Under His Protection

by Isabella Laase

  “Did she have children?” asked Victoria, the question coming without context.

  “Yes,” he said, his attention on the car’s mirrors and the road in front of them. “I know what you’re thinking, but this may not have anything to do with you.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” she responded softly. “Murder is terrible under any circumstances, and I don’t think it would make me feel any better to find out that I wasn’t the target. Any one of us could have been killed—you, my father.” She shuddered openly. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  He squeezed her hand before gently kissing the back, the effect as powerful as if he’d enveloped her entire body with his, just like he’d done when the bomb exploded and again in the bunker when he’d declared his commitment to her in front of all of those people. “Stay with me, little bit,” he said gently. “You’re strong. You’ve got this.”

  But she didn’t feel strong. “Are we going someplace scary?” she asked, feeling very much like a lost little girl. “It’s so dark. I don’t think I can go to a dark place.”

  “No, honey. We’re heading to a high-rise resort complex on the coast of Delaware. Most of them are rentals, so there’s a heavy, touristy turnover every week. They’re putting food in the fridge, and there’ll be agents nearby to help us if we need anything else. We’re even getting a nice ocean view with a balcony in case you start to feel closed in, but we’re going to stay inside the condo until we get the all-clear.”

  Short of knocking her out with some tranquilizer, he’d done everything possible to support her during those miserable few hours below ground, even holding her hair while she’d vomited in a trash can in front of a dozen high-ranking government strangers, but never once did he criticize or berate her weakness. “I’m sorry about freaking out back there,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I’ve always had a little trouble with closed-in spaces, but never like that. I should have been braver.”

  “You’re one of the bravest women I’ve ever met,” he responded with a smile. “I was damned proud of you this afternoon when you stood behind your father while he gave his statement to the press. I know how hard that was, and I guarantee your choice meant more to him than you’ll ever imagine. But even brave people have enough sense to get scared when confronted by violence.”

  They rode in relative silence for hours, listening to the soft rock music station before the dark farmers’ fields and small neighborhoods gave way to deserted restaurants and mini-malls. Cruz pulled into the huge parking lot of the only high-rise as far as she could see, the coastal scents of fresh salt air and marshy depth making clear their location despite not actually seeing any water. A large van and a nondescript SUV pulled in behind them, but Cruz just gave them a quick glance. “They’re FBI, aren’t they?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah, they’ve been with us since we left the White House. I told them to give you a little space.”

  The two-bedroom apartment at the end of the long, open-air hallway was a throwback to the nineties with shiny brass light fixtures, square white ceramic floor tiles, and a pale blue laminate on the kitchen counters. The well-worn furniture and carpet was a neutral sandy brown and the walls a shade darker in the same earthy tones. Cruz sat one of the backpacks on the kitchen table. “This one has extra guns and some ammo,” he said, taking off his sport coat to reveal his familiar holster over the red sport shirt that he’d put on that morning. “Everything we brought with us was cleared by the FBI for tracking devices, but I don’t have a place to secure the weapons. Promise that you won’t touch them, or I’ll blister your ass.”

  “Fine,” she said, moving to the living room. “I don’t want to even look at a gun. You can make them all go away.”

  “Not this time,” he said absently, checking out the rest of the small apartment. The brassy, decades-old wall unit in the living room held a cheap television, a few beat-up board games, and somebody’s old DVD collection, but the small apartment was too stark and impersonal to provide any true comfort. Unsure how to counter the emptiness, she awkwardly stood in the middle of the room. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. “You seem to be stuck in one place.”

  Shaking her head to erase the cobwebs, she pointed to the balcony. “Can I go out there?”

  “At night? Yeah,” he said, opening the slider, “but leave the curtains closed to block the light.”

  She moved to the outdoor space and leaned against the railing with Cruz close behind her. The complex’s pool was between the condo and the beach, deserted at that late hour, but a few landscaping lights broke through the darkness that stretched forever. Even the unique scents from the salt air and the gentle sounds of waves crashing against the beach did nothing to calm her nerves. “Am I safe here, Cruz?” she whispered, closing her eyes tightly.

  “Yes,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his gun pushing into her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t safe. They’re adding cameras in the hallways, and that big van down there is filled with heavily armed, FBI thugs just waiting for something to jump on. Even the Secret Service wasn’t told where you are.”

  “That must have gone over with them like a lead balloon. And you tell me that I have a temper. You shouldn’t have tried to hit that guy back there. Do you even have a job anymore?”

  “That guy was my boss,” he said simply. “And I have no idea if I have a job when we get back, but I’d do it all over again to keep you safe. No matter what I tried telling myself back in my apartment, there’s no way I can walk away from you, and I hope that you’ll forgive me for causing you any sadness while I figured that out.”

  “Forgive you?” She twisted around to face him. “You should be forgiving me for bringing this whole crazy shit-show to your doorstep. You can’t give up your career over this. Apologize to him. Tell him that you were in shock or something over the explosion. They have to give you some leeway under the circumstances.”

  “I don’t want any leeway. Maybe the job will work out and maybe it won’t. My grandmother used to tell me that for every door that closes, another one will open, but if you’re too busy being angry or resentful, you’ll never see it. Just like being here. I know that you aren’t happy, but it’s just a small step. We can do this, together.”

  From the seventh floor of her latest prison, the darkness and lack of escape made the space just as debilitating as the underground hell in the White House bunker. The heavy panic returned out of nowhere, blocking access to any rational thoughts and turning her stomach. “No,” she said, pulling away as her heart rate began to pulse. “I... I can’t stay here.”

  “They’ll clear everything out in a few days,” he said calmly, “and then we’ll go back. You’ll be fine.”

  Fine. She’d never be fine again. Teresa’s lifeless body. The noise. The blood. The destruction. Pushing past him, she grabbed the keys off the counter and headed toward the door, but he caught her by the wrist before she could turn the knob. “I’m getting pretty tired of arguing with you over closed doors,” he said wearily, removing his shoulder holster and laying his gun on the kitchen counter. “Just breathe, so we can talk about this.”

  “I don’t want to talk, Cruz,” she whimpered. “I want to go home. Please. I promise I’ll listen to everything you say, but I want to go home.”

  Home didn’t mean her apartment, and it didn’t mean the White House. The fact that she didn’t really know where home was increased her anxiety to a boiling point, and she pulled a little harder against his grasp. Cruz wrapped himself around her small frame to effectively restrain her, but it didn’t calm her. She fought him, striking out against his rock-hard chest and firm shoulders, but there was no venom in her attack. She had no true desire to leave because there was no place to go.

  Ignoring her completely, he picked her up to move her toward the couch, easily slipping off her shoes and socks as he walked. Unsnapping her jeans, he sat her on his lap. “Come on, little
bit. Slide out of these, and we’ll take care of this attitude problem.”

  “You can’t possibly spank me?” she asked incredulously, wiggling furiously until she was allowed to stand between his legs. “I can’t do this tonight. Please, let’s just go back to the car. I need to get out of here.”

  His grip tightened around her wrist to keep her from moving. “You asked me to be your dom. If you have trust and faith in me, you’ll what you’re told. Let’s take off your pants. Now.” Holding her between his legs, he worked her jeans and panties to the floor and slipped her out of the worn sweatshirt. Unhooking the simple cotton bra, he tossed it aside, leaving her small and naked frame exposed to both the slight breeze from the open slider and his irritation. “Over the arm of the couch, little bit,” he grumbled.

  “Cruz...” she started to protest.

  There was no hint of a smile on his handsome face. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, but you’re getting over that couch one way or the other, so you pick how it’s all going to go down.”

  Trying to keep her gaze on him, she settled her tummy over the arm of the ugly beige fabric, but he turned her face to the wall and moved her arms over her head, resting her palms on the couch cushions to force her nipples against the roughness. Sliding his hand between her legs for leverage, he moved her feet off the floor and pushed her ass upward, a quick reminder of their previous night’s kinky scene. The overall vulnerability defeated some of her stress and focused her attention on her immediate problem. “Don’t spank me, Cruz,” she whimpered, her submissive responses returning without warning. “I’m sorry.”

  She fully expected him to restrain her before finding some sort of weapon to paddle her ass, but instead, he massaged her back, deep, powerful caresses working up and down her spine and around her neck, slowly relaxing her muscles’ tense hold before moving onto her arms, thighs, and calves; nothing was left untouched. For a good fifteen or twenty minutes, time was her ally as he sculpted her toned body. Her mind slowed its race of confused thoughts, her serenity returning under the sound of his voice.

  When he started to massage her bottom, she wiggled, arching her back to bring him closer, but a stern spank quickly settled her to his chosen position. “Don’t start getting greedy there, little girl. I’ll decide when we move onto the next step,” he said quietly, moving with both hands down her thighs. “I’m sorry that I don’t have any oils, but how does this feel?”

  “That feels nice,” she said a little bit sleepily. “Warm. You know, you could probably just rub my ass every night to get it all cozy and happy. You don’t need to spank it to get those nerves moving.”

  “Where would be the fun in that?” he asked with a chuckle. “A maintenance spanking is a valuable tool to use on naughty little subs, especially when life is out of everybody’s control.”

  She turned her head with a questioning frown as his palm smacked her ass, the spank a perfect addition to her already toasted bottom, morphing her skin into a river of heat without the lingering bite that his spatula had delivered a lifetime earlier. Gentle. Soft. Strong. Painful. He alternated his message with a deeper kneading of her ass, uniting her frayed nerves until her breath grew steady.

  Spreading her thighs to tickle her already wet channel with a single finger, he moved upward to rub her tight, private hole, grumbling, “No more threatening to walk out on me, or I’ll take your ass with something a hell of a lot bigger than my plugs. There’s a limit to how much patience I have, and I’m not going anyplace. Do you understand?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said as he allowed her to stand, her ass as warm as her face. Like anytime he’d moved his hands over her body, the overwhelming stimulation had started a wet quivering through her labia. She wanted to rub against her mons to erase the effect, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t support the move. “I wasn’t really going to leave. And I have a confession to make. I wasn’t going to make it easy for you to walk away from me back there in your apartment. I’d kind of planned on stalking you until you took me back.”

  “Stalking me, huh,” he said, pushing the single loose hair behind her ear with a gentle touch. “There would have been some punishment involved in that, but I need to fuck you, little bit. I know that you went through a lot of emotions today, but I could have lost you, and I’m not going to sleep until I get as close to you as I can. Either I have a job or I don’t, but there’s only one you. And I want you. Now.”

  “I’m sorry that we don’t have any toys to play with,” she said shyly. “You should explain to those FBI guys that we want to move back to your place so we can fuck like bunnies.”

  “What kind of store-bought dom do you think I am?” he asked darkly, pointing toward the open door to the big master bedroom. “Lie down on the bed and wait for me. I want to slide my hand between those legs, so they’d better be open when I get in there.”

  * * *

  He came to her with an armful of household treasures, listing each one as he dropped them on the bed. “I found some candles so we can have a little romantic lighting, a few potato chip clips to smarten up those nipples, some clothesline, another trusty spatula because we both know how much fun that was, and a banana.”

  Her eyes grew wide and her mouth formed into a speechless oval before she slid her bottom along the mattress until she reached the floor at the opposite edge of the bed. Holding out her hands like she had some chance in hell of stopping him, she mumbled, “What do you think you’re doing with the banana there, buddy boy?”

  “I’m going to eat it,” he said with an arched eyebrow, peeling the banana and taking a bite. “Did you just get off that bed without my permission?”

  “I, uh...” She looked hard for any hint of teasing, but the man was a model of steel resolve. She slipped back to his desired location, but he tossed the banana peel onto the end table and crossed his arms until she wiggled uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, unable to withhold a tiny whimper. He could melt a freaking glacier when he looked like that, and she trusted that he had every tool he needed to make her even sorrier.

  “Apparently you’ve forgotten my only rule,” he said, arms still crossed. “I tell you what to do, and you do it. No questions asked. Maybe I need to put these expensive paraffin candles to a better use than a little mood lighting, but I don’t want to start any fires, so I need to make a few adjustments to this scene.”

  He twisted her loose locks back to a rough ponytail with a lot of stingy hair pulling, cutting off a piece of the clothesline with his pocket knife to tie it in place. Twisting the rest of the soft rope around her naked frame, he created an intricate series of twisting length and knots until her arms went over her head. Her thighs were opened to expose her mons, and with an unnecessary smirk, he restrained her to the bedframe to hold her in place.

  Running his hand between her labia and her breasts, he tweaked her sensitive nipples until she cried out. “Hush,” he demanded with a growl. “Or I’ll give you something to whimper about. I’m only getting started, and I don’t want you moving. This game is way too much fun, for me, anyway.”

  Returning to the kitchen, he was gone for a long minute or two before coming back with a small fire extinguisher and escalating her panic. “Wait,” she shouted, pulling against her restraints. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “What’s not a good idea?” His tone was calm as he fondled her over-sensitized breasts, warming the skin all the way to her belly before he teased the thatch between her legs. “Do you mean the part where I have you tied up so you can’t move, just waiting for my dick to enter you in all sorts of fun places? Or do you mean the part where I’m going to dribble this hot wax on your wet cunt just to hear it sizzle?”

  None of it, she thought to herself. All of it. The fear was growing stronger, and she ran her safe word over and over in her mind just to make sure that she still knew what it was. She controlled this scene, she reminded herself. She could stop this anytime she wanted. But when he lit th
e candle, the tiny flicker of flame caused her to beg. “Please, no. I don’t want to do this.”

  He held the candle away from her, giving her a minute to breathe and nibbling across her belly with tiny bites until he reached her nipples. He latched onto the first one, rolling his tongue over the edge and scraping his teeth with just enough pressure to spark a shock of heat straight to her core. “There’s only one way to stop this,” he said, “and you know what that is. And since I don’t hear any safe word, I’m going to keep playing with you.” Sliding his hand between her legs, he added with a laugh, “My god, you’re so wet. I’m a lucky man, little girl.”

  As hard as she tried, she couldn’t look away from the candle that he held about a foot and a half above her belly, its inherent danger magnified tenfold due to her lack of control. His hands continued to rub her tummy, increasing her warmth despite her overt fears, and the first drizzles of burning heat hit her less sensitive outer thighs. The bite was sharp enough to force her whimper, but the pain dissipated almost as quickly as it started, leaving the soft liquid to harden to a crusty, opaque layer on her skin.

  “See, little bit,” he said softly. “You like that, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer and continued his game, trickling the wax closer to her breasts, and leaving a fiery, intricate pattern across her stomach and down her sides. Her body writhed in a futile attempt to avoid him, but he continued, still speaking calmly. “Good little sub,” he said encouragingly. “Look how well you’re taking this. It feels good, doesn’t it? All those little red marks are going to look beautiful.”

  By the time he allowed the wax to tangle into the curls between her legs, she’d started angling her body toward him, but he quickly tweaked her nipple with a sting. “You’re not asking for me to do this your way, are you?” he asked dangerously. “Because I only have one thing around here to give you a good ass punishment for getting too pushy, and I’m pretty sure you won’t find that pleasant.” She rolled back into position, her face burning a beet red and her vulva filling with her swollen clit.