Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

37

Heather

“You’re joking,” I said. “Cora is always a little angel.”

“Maybe when you see her,” Maurice replied. “But she can’t fool me. She’s the ringleader. She’s been convincing the boys to act out, and bribing them with her candy.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard them talking in her room,” Maurice replied. “And both boys had chocolate on their hands after that. She got a candy bar from the big bucket, and then gave it to the others.”

“Or they stole it from her,” I argued.

“That’s what I said,” Brady chimed in. “Tell her the rest.”

Maurice nodded. “It was all carefully orchestrated, but I’m an actor, and I noticed it immediately. After dinner, when the candy reward was given, Cora announced loudly that she was going to her room to read. Ten seconds later, both boys followed her. When they came out of her room, they had chocolate on their fingers and were behaving worse than ever before, tossing pillows and knocking over things in the kitchen. And Cora? She calmly walked out of her room with a smug look on her face. I know that look, Heather, because that’s how I looked when I did something bad as a kid.”

I processed what I was hearing. “That would explain why the candy isn’t incentivizing the boys anymore. They’re getting bigger pieces at the end of the night from their sister. But why?”

Brady shrugged. “Who knows why little kids do stuff? All I know is I’m going to give Asher so much shit about it when he gets home. He’s always gloating about how good Cora is. Well, who’s the perfect little angel now?”

Maurice finished his drink. “That’s enough fun for me tonight. I’m heading home.”

“I’ll Venmo you the cash for babysitting,” Brady said, downing his coffee and getting up too. “You want a ride home? I’m heading to Amirah’s, and your place is on the way.”

“What a gentleman.”

Brady kissed me goodbye. “Wish I was staying here with you. We’d have a lot of fun.”

“I wish that too,” I replied.

He gave me a wink, then led Maurice to the door. “Okay, so my buddy Jason I was telling you about. He didn’t come out until he was twenty-eight, but everyone in his unit knew. He lives out in Bakersfield, but I can give him your number if you want.”

“What type is he?” Maurice asked.

“Uh… the gay type?”

Maurice laughed. “No, I mean is he a bear, twink, otter, leather daddy…”

“Bro, I don’t know what any of that means,” Brady said.

“I have much to teach you.” Maurice blew me a kiss and closed the door.

I was once again wiped out from filming all day, so I went right to bed. I never even heard Asher and Brady come home. Dustin woke once in the night and needed help in the bathroom, but otherwise the kids let me sleep undisturbed.

“I don’t believe it,” Asher said during breakfast the next morning. He looked skeptically at the kids in the living room. “Not Cora. It’s not possible.”

“Read it and weep, buddy,” Brady said while guzzling coffee. He looked more tired than usual, even though things were quiet at Amirah’s last night. “She’s the ringleader of this out of control circus.”

“But she’s a little angel.”

“Lucifer was an angel, too,” Brady pointed out.

“That’s enough gloating,” Rogan cut in. “What should we do? Confront her?”

“We could, but I’m not a fan of that plan. Not yet, at least. I’d like to see it with my own eyes. And if we catch her in the act, it will be more effective than bringing it up now.”

Rogan tongued the inside of his cheek, then nodded. “If you think that’s best.”

The day progressed like normal. The boys were bouncing off the walls, while Cora behaved perfectly. But I noticed her watching her brothers and smiling to herself. Something was definitely off.

Rogan came upstairs while the kids were napping. “You want some lunch?” I asked him. “I just made a batch of chicken salad. I used low-fat mayo, but…”

Wordlessly, Rogan took me by the arm and led me into his bedroom. He locked the door, then proceeded to kiss me more fiercely than he ever had before. We fell onto the bed together and he hastily pulled my dress up around my waist. His urgent need for me made me as wet as could be, and his cock sank between my legs with ease.

He gripped me in his strong arms and fucked me hard and fast, practically slamming himself into my pussy like he couldn’t hold himself back. I surrendered to the wonderful feeling of his desire, clamping my lips down around his shaft with every stroke and driving my own hips up into him. Both of us were letting out our individual frustrations on each other, diving into the sex as a distraction, and we lost ourselves to the mindless drive of our bodies.

“Filming sucked yesterday,” I said while we clung to each other afterward. The good thing about a quickie was that it left plenty of time for cuddling. “Two full days shooting and re-shooting the same small scene. I was ready to scream by the end of it.”

“At least it’s over,” Rogan murmured into my hair.

“Yeah, but it left a bad taste in my mouth. I feel disillusioned about the entire acting process. If it’s this bad for a thirty-second commercial, how will it be on a major project? It must take forever. I don’t think I can take that, day-in and day-out.”

Rogan listened while gently stroking my hair. I could feel his heartbeat underneath my cheek, a steady thump of life. After a few moments, Rogan spoke softly.

“My first deployment was to the Gulf of Mexico. It was during one of the early flare-ups in Venezuela. We were told to prep for a variety of potential missions: special reconnaissance, foreign internal defense, security assistance, personnel recovery. The whole nine yards. I remember packing my gear to ship out, thinking that I was finally going to do what I was meant to do. And do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Our carrier group dropped anchor off the coast. And we sat there for six months. We were always on standby, so we had be mentally prepared at all times, but for half a year we didn’t do anything. We could see the goddamn coastline in our binoculars, but our team was never sent out on a mission. And then, after six months, our carrier group returned home to Norfolk.

“I remember that first night back in port, drinking at a bar,” Rogan went on. “I felt so disillusioned about everything. I had trained my whole life to do something, and then we didn’t get to do it. I didn’t sign up just to sit around all day like a lifeguard. Then we were sent out on another deployment. And do you know what happened on that one?”

“It was much better than the first?”

Rogan shook his head. “It was the same. The exact. Fucking. Same. We sat at NAMRU-6 for months. Never even left base.”

“NAM-what?” I asked.

“NAMRU. A Naval Medical Research Unit down in Peru. That was our base of operations in case we needed to be inserted into Columbia, but guess what? We never were. Another few months sitting around like a bunch of jackasses.

“But then, at the end of the deployment, we finally got our chance. They had the location of a cartel leader deep in the jungle. This was the worst kind of person in the world. He had publicly killed children as a warning to anyone who opposed his methods. I never believed in evil until I read the mission briefing on this guy. We were dropped into the jungle, and… I’ll spare you the details. But we captured him, and with the help of local law enforcement, he was brought to justice.”

Rogan grunted deep within his throat. “I felt invincible after that mission. Like I was Batman or something. A real superhero. That mission reminded me of why I enlisted in the first place. It just took a while to get to that point.”

“So you’re saying I should join the SEALs?” I asked. “Is swimming a prerequisite? Because I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t let one bad experience ruin your dream of becoming an actress,” he said. “Stick with it. Endure the parts that suck, at least for another year or two. It will be worth it in the end, I promise. Nothing worthwhile in this world is easy.”

I felt better after that. Yeah, this commercial sucked. But it was over, and the next role might be better. You couldn’t run a marathon until you’d run a lot of smaller training runs.

I heard the kids stirring from their naps, so Rogan and I got out of bed and made ourselves presentable. But we slipped out of his bedroom right as Micah was coming out of his room.

He paused in the hallway. “What were you doing in daddy’s room?” he asked.

“Um…” Rogan said. “We were, uh…”

“Your daddy was taking a nap too,” I quickly said. “I didn’t want him to sleep too long, so I woke him up.”

“You woke something of mine up,” he whispered. I elbowed him in the ribs.

Micah shrugged and accepted the story. Both of us breathed a sigh of relief.

The boys continued misbehaving the rest of the afternoon. I grew more and more frustrated, to the point that I was almost losing my temper around them. I forced myself to take deep breaths. These were children, and it was my job to get them under control.

But first, to see if Cora really is the ringleader.

The seven of us had dinner together at the dining room table. While the dads cleaned up the dishes, I went to the fridge and announced everyone’s star totals. Micah and Dustin weren’t very interested in this part, and I had to practically drag them over to the fridge.

Once again, Cora got to choose a treat from the big bucket. She selected a king-sized Twix, which was suspiciously easy to divide into two parts. She shoved the candy in her pocket and then cuddled with Brady in the living room while he watched the Lakers game.

Then she yawned, stretched out her arms, and said, “Can I read in my room, please?”

She was like a polite little lady. It would have been cute if not for the sinister undertones of her plan.

“Of course you can, Cora,” Brady said.

She walked down the hall to her room. Dustin and Micah watched her, then continued playing with their trucks on the floor. They lasted thirty seconds before jumping up.

“I’m going to get another toy truck,” Dustin said.

“I’ll help you pick it out,” Micah said.

It was so rehearsed that I almost busted out laughing. When they were gone from the room, Brady muttered, “Son of a bitch, they’re wicked guilty.”

I peered down the hall. The boys went into Dustin’s room. Then, a few seconds later, they scurried across the hall to Cora’s.

I tip-toed down the hall until I was right outside Cora’s door. It was open, allowing me to hear everything inside. Asher and Brady followed behind me, pressed against the wall like really bad spies. It was tough to believe they were both Navy SEALs before this.

There was a crumpling sound like a candy wrapper, and then Cora whispered, “One for you, and one for you.”

I jumped around the corner and saw each boy with a Twix half in his hand. All three of them had deer-in-the-headlights stares.

They were caught red-handed.

“What’s going on here?” I demanded.