Stacy Vs. SEAL Read online

  Stacy Vs. SEAL

  Mona Cox

  Naughty Angel Publishing

  Contents

  Description

  Also by Mona Cox

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  A Note From Alexis (a.k.a. Mona)

  1. Stacy

  2. Sanders

  3. Stacy

  4. Sanders

  5. Stacy

  6. Stacy

  7. Sanders

  8. Stacy

  9. Sanders

  10. Stacy

  11. Stacy

  12. Sanders

  13. Stacy

  14. Sanders

  15. Stacy

  16. Sanders

  17. Stacy

  18. Sanders

  19. Stacy

  20. Stacy

  A Note From Mona

  Fiona Vs. Football Player

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  21. Fiona

  22. Danny

  23. Fiona

  24. Danny

  25. Fiona

  26. Danny

  27. Fiona

  28. Danny

  29. Fiona

  30. Danny

  31. Fiona

  32. Fiona

  33. Fiona

  34. Danny

  35. Fiona

  36. Danny

  37. Fiona

  38. Danny

  39. Fiona

  40. Epilogue - Fiona

  Carla Vs. Cowboy

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  41. Carla

  42. Chase

  43. Carla

  44. Chase

  45. Carla

  46. Chase

  47. Carla

  48. Carla

  49. Carla

  50. Chase

  51. Carla

  52. Chase

  53. Carla

  54. Chase

  55. Carla

  56. Chase

  57. Carla

  58. Epi

  Lisa Vs. Outlaw

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  A Note From The Woman Behind Mona

  59. Lisa

  60. Diesel

  61. Lisa

  62. Diesel

  63. Lisa

  64. Lisa

  65. Lisa

  66. Lisa

  67. Diesel

  68. Lisa

  69. Lisa

  70. Diesel

  71. Lisa

  72. Lisa

  73. Lisa

  74. Diesel

  75. Lisa

  76. Lisa

  77. Epilogue

  Also by Mona Cox

  Stacy Vs. SEAL

  By Mona Cox

  Copyright 2017 by Naughty Angel Publishing

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

  Join Alexis’ Naughty Angel’s Newsletter and receive a bonus chapter from this book!

  Description

  Alright, Mr. SEAL. You’re sweet. And that’s a giant…uhm…’fin’?

  But, like, why do you like me?

  You protect me all the time. Even when I don’t know you’re there.

  I mean, you take strong and silent type to the extreme.

  But it’s cute. It’s sweet. I can’t get enough of you.

  And if other people fall in love at hello, I fell for you at just your glance. Mainly because you’re so quiet you didn’t even bother saying hello.

  But WHO are you?

  What do you want with me?

  Will you stay?

  I’m dying because I need to find out…

  *** It's the cute single girl versus the Big Bad SEAL in this installment from Mona Cox. Guaranteed to be sweet, sassy, and fun. No cheating or cliffhangers. Happy Ending? Always, babe ***

  Dedicated to Virginia.

  Also by Mona Cox

  Alicia Vs. Billionaire

  Ashley Vs. Boss

  Natalie Vs. Prince

  Christine Vs. Professor

  Kim Vs. Stepbrother

  Lisa Vs. Outlaw

  Carla Vs. Cowboy

  Fiona Vs. Football Player

  Becca Vs. Biker

  Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero

  Rory Vs. Rockstar

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  Hi ladies!

  If you’re like me, once you finish, you’re not going to want the story to end!

  To receive exclusive sneak peeks, (before anyone else!), bonus content not seen anywhere else, giveaways, and tons more swag, visit me and my Naughty Angels on Facebook at Dirty Lil’ Angels.

  We’ll make it worth your while…

  :)

  Kisses!

  Alexis

  A Note From Alexis (a.k.a. Mona)

  Well hello there, ladies!

  Let me first begin by introducing myself. My name is Alexis Angel - and I’m half of Mona Cox. I usually co-write but I’m looking for a partner who dropped out after we finished this because of family reasons.

  I write steamy contemporary romance. Steamy is another word, I guess, for dirty. And dirty is another word for fun. In fact, the dirtier the better because at heart I’m just a bad girl looking to have some fun.

  That’s why I created Mona Cox with a dear friend of mine. They’re supposed to be short, sweet, sexy stories that are a quick read that make you laugh and get you a lil’ wet. Kinda like me!

  Every week, Mona Cox (get it, Moans for Cocks?) will give you a short and sweet story about a young independent girl who goes up against something in her life that gets her stronger and makes her a better person. Maybe she falls in love to. But she definitely gets to cum lol!

  Having fun is why I do this. And, I’m just having fun in the next few hundred pages, doing what I do with a wink and a nod. It’s supposed to bring out some emotions and give you a chance to forget about your cares for a little bit. That’s all I’m looking to do.

  Some people want realism in their books. I say reality is too depressing. So you might see certain things as over the top or ridiculous in terms of never being realistically possible. Yeah, I agree. You’re coming into the world of Alexis by turning the page. Into a world where you have twin stepbrother quarterbacks with 12 inch …uhmm…appendages… that fall in love with their stepsister, where you have dragons who shift into billionaire BDSM rock stars and you get the picture. I think reality should take a second place to fun.

  So I just wanted to say that, in case you know, you were hoping for like super real. The men and women in the pages below represent the best, and worst, of all of us as a collective whole. This is all about leaving your cares for the world behind, as we hold hands, and just for a little while go on a journey that makes us smile. And hopefully a lil’ wetter than before.

  Kisses!

  Alexis xoxox

  1

  Stacy

  Good morning, New York, I think to myself, taking a deep breath as I step out of my apartment building. The air is fresh and clear, and the colors of the city look vibrant in their morning dress, the sun making its steady climb over a clear blue sky.

  It’s a good day to be alive.

  I march onto the sidewalk, blending in with the crowd of New Yorkers, and start making my way toward the studio. It’s one of the ultimate luxuries, the way I see it - being able to walk to work every morning. No buses, no subway, no endless lines of impatient people clutching their coffee cups. Just me and the click of my heels on the pavement, the morning breeze gently whipping my hair back.

  Buying an apartment here, 53rd and Lexington, was probably one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. It’s o
nly a short stroll to 53rd and 6th Avenue, where Rockefeller Center rises from its concrete roots to tower over its domain, which means I can commute in about five minutes. And without that terrible morning anxiety.

  “Stacy!” One guy in headphones waves at me from the other side of the street, and I wave right back at him, a cheery smile on my lips. I’ve never seen him before, but that doesn’t count for much. I’m the lead singer on Saturday Night Laughs, which kind of makes me an household name in the country.

  “STACY!” Another girl squeals from behind me, and I hear her sure footsteps closing in on me. “Can I… take a… selfie?” She asks me as I turn on my heels to face her. There’s a crimson flush to her cheeks, and she’s breathing hard, which means she has probably ran all the way toward me. She has pretty eyes of a clear green, and her red hair is tied up in a bun, which gives her a tomboyish look; all in all, she can’t be older than fourteen.

  “Sure!” I tell her, placing one arm around her and smiling to her phone as she holds it up in front of us.

  “Thank you, Stacy! You’re the best!” She chirps, looking down at her phone with an expression of pure delight.

  “Have a good day, sweetie.” My smiles widens as I walk down the street, a few more girls waving at me. Two selfies later and the Rockefeller Center’s shadow falls over me, almost as if it were greeting me back. I take one quick glance at my wristwatch - I’m not late yet, since I always make sure I leave home earlier than I need to - and start making my way toward the studio.

  That’s when I hear someone groan from the side. I stop and look around, trying to see where that sound is coming from, and then a cry of pain makes me face the dark alleyway just a few steps behind me. I walk back, stopping right before the long shadows of the alley swallow the morning warmth, and blink, my eyes adjusting to the pale light.

  Straight like a train track, and equally narrow, it feels like the alley is out of place in here. Sitting on the hard concrete floor, there’s a man with a ragged jacket; he’s clutching one arm close to his chest, his teeth gritted as he groans in pain.

  “Please… Help me…” He groans again, raising his eyes toward me. He seems old, an unkempt beard adorning his cheeks, the creases around his eyes like grooves on wood.

  “Are you okay, sir?” I ask him, taking a few steps into the alley. The shadows swallow me whole, and the sounds of New York seem to be muted as the cramped walls around me stop them.

  “No… I… Please, help,” he groans again, unsteadily going up to his feet, his back against the wall.

  “What’s the matter, sir?” I ask him again, closing the distance between him. The moment I’m within reach, his eyes narrow smartly and he moves as fast as a snake, curling his dirty fingers around my right wrist. “Hey! What are you doing?” I cry out, but he just pushes me back and presses me against the wall.

  “Shut up, bitch!” He hisses, and suddenly he looks much younger than what I thought initially. Slumped on the alley, he looked as if he had sixty years on him, but now that he’s up close I’d say he isn’t older than forty. “Money and phone,” he growls, taking a small knife from one of the pockets in his ragged jacket.

  “Okay, okay…!” I cry out, holding my breath as the foul stench of alcohol and cigarettes hit me. I fish my cellphone and wallet from inside my purse, and he snags them out from my hands as fast as lightning.

  “What the fuck is this?” He whispers, disappointed, as he looks at my old cellphone. I’ve always been somewhat of an old-school girl, and so I still have one of these old flip phones, a throwback to when people used the things to talk to each other. With an angry scowl, he throws my cellphone to the ground, the back cover jumping out and turning into a million plastic pieces. For good measure, he presses the heel of his boot onto the screen, ruining it for good.

  “Just take the money and go!” I say as he opens my wallet, frowning as he takes three five-dollar bills from the inside.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He whispers, leaning into me threateningly. The stench coming from his mouth hits me in full-force, and I make an effort not to retch.

  “The credit cards… Take them!”

  “The fuckin’ credit cards, uh?” He whispers to himself, taking a golden one from inside the wallet and making it turn in its fingers. “You’ll just cancel them and --” he stops talking as his eyes find the salient silver letters on the plastic card, spelling out my name. “I know you!”

  “I don’t think --”

  “Yeah, you’re that singer from that Saturday show…” The creases in his forehead seem to deepen, and his eyes start to wander up and down my body. This isn’t looking good. “A woman like you likes expensive things, right?” He asks me, his eyes focused on my shoes. Oh, seriously? “Take ‘em off! Now!” He growls, waving his knife at my shoes. “Or I’ll cut ‘em off of your pretty lil’ feet!”

  “Screw you!” I hiss right back at him, snagging my wallet from his hand and kicking him hard in the shins. No way in hell am I giving him my Christian Louboutin’s. These heels cost more than $1000, and no way in hell am I going to hand them out without a fight.

  You don’t mess with a girl's’ shoes.

  “Fuckin’ bitch!” He cries out, pushing one arm back and then hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. The impact makes me spin around, and I feel something give out inside my ankle. I press my back against the wall, losing control of my body, and then stumble onto the dirty pavement.

  “I told you I’d cut ‘em off your feet, bitch,” he says, lowering his voice as he points his knife at me, taking one heavy step toward me. My heart tightens up inside my chest and I hold my breath, my brain trying to think of a way out but finding none.

  I’m screwed.

  “Maybe I’ll cut something else too…” He continues, the blade in his knife reflecting the alley behind him. I grit my teeth, preparing to try and fight him off, and that’s when I see something - someone? - reflected on the mugger’s blade.

  And, just like that, something hits him on the side of his head and he falls over, his narrowed eyes turning white as he loses consciousness.

  What the hell?

  2

  Sanders

  Red dress, black high heels, and a confident strut - now that’s a woman whose every step demands attention.

  I stroll casually down the sidewalk, keeping the distance, but my eyes are drawn to the perfect shape of her body. Every step she takes makes her body sway in a delicious way, her thighs moving unhurriedly and her ass cheeks clenching in such a way that I can’t help but imagine how it’d feel to slide my hands down the side of her body.

  Damn. That ass is basically rippling. What I wouldn’t do to put my tongue in the middle of those cheeks. Just lick. Oh, yeah. Then pull out my cock and stick it in between those cheeks. Give them a good smack. Unngh. I bet she has no idea what I want to do to that fucking hot body.

  Okay. I gotta stop this.

  I take one deep breath and keep on walking, watching as a few girls approach the woman in the red dress, cellphones in their hands. I feel the muscles in my body tightening up as the woman stops more than twice for photographs, and I only relax when she starts going on her way uninterrupted.

  Suddenly, she stops right before an alleyway, and I stop dead in my tracks as I notice her walking toward the shadows there and talking to someone. She clutches her black purse close to her chest and, still talking, hurries inside the alley.

  What the hell?

  I keep my steady pace as I close in on the dark alley, and I stop right in front of the narrow gap between two apartment buildings. I blink once, and then twice, as my eyes adjust to the dim light of the alley; in the distance, I see the woman in the red dress shouting something at a man in a dirty jacket, and I immediately realize what’s going on. I grit my teeth, ball my hands into fists, and feel a violent fire incinerating every single one of my muscles.

  And that’s when I see the glint of a blade.

  Fuck.

 
; I hurry down the alley just in time to see the man slapping her with the back of his hand, sending her reeling onto the ground, and I close the distance between me and him, careful enough to be as silent as possible. Even though my boots are heavy, he never hears me coming.

  Standing just two feet away from him, his back turned to me, I raise one hand up into the air and, rotating my hips, I send my knuckles into a collision trajectory with the man’s skull. Fingers meet bone in a fraction of a second, and all strength leaves the mugger’s legs, making him fall onto the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

  I prod his limp body with the tip of my boot, making sure that he’s still unconscious, and then I turn to face the woman in the red dress. She’s sitting on the pavement, fingers curled around her swollen ankle, and she’s looking at me with an expression of disbelief.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her, my eyes roaming up and down her body as I try to look for any bruises or blood.

  “I… Yes... Yes, I am,” she says, still looking up at me as if I just stumbled out from a different dimension. One where damsels in distress are rescued at the very last minute by a knight in shining armor. Except I’m everything but a knight in a shining armor, and if there’s something I hate its jumping into action at the last minute.

  “Where do you work?” I continue, doing my best not to stare at her legs. The hemline of her dress is slightly raised, showing just an hint of inner thigh, and I have to grit my teeth in order to banish all lust from my system. Which isn’t the easiest thing right now.

  “R-Rockefeller Center,” she stammers, eyeing me curiously. I guess it’s not everyday you see a guy like me stepping in like I did to save the day. “Who are you?”

  “Just a guy,” I reply flatly, and her eyes narrow slightly.