Under His Protection

by Isabella Laase

  When his hot mouth covered her nipples, the effect split her attention between the heated wax across her skin and the sensitivity from her nubs, reducing the rest of the room to a blur until he drizzled the liquid heat across her breasts, and she cried out. His hand slid between her legs, but he didn’t have to nudge them apart. She was open and ready for him, the effect so warm and smooth, slipping through her channel with her wet response providing the necessary friction. Rubbing, prodding, he explored her sex until he located her clit. With the wax still finding virgin places to torment her, he vigorously rubbed along her labia, pinching and pulling until her belly tensed, the pleasure building to send spasms rolling through her middle.

  The overwhelming force from the coming orgasm made her fear she’d roar like a slut, and she tried a second time to pull away from him both physically and emotionally, but his voice was as stern as she’d ever heard. “Stop fighting me, little sub,” he whispered darkly. “You have no idea what I can do to make you scream, in pain and in pleasure, so fucking come for me so I can hear what it sounds like.” His finger entered her wetness, first one, then two, harsh invasions reaching the hidden depths of her empty pussy. She groaned as the spasms defeated her fighting, and she gave into him completely, letting go with a scream, her cunt pulsing with pleasure.

  She was still moaning when he slipped out of his clothes, his erect penis still tantalizingly out of her reach, and the sight of his smooth hardness sent a spasm of wet release spurting through her channel. Despite her orgasm, she wasn’t done, and she’d have taken him anywhere he demanded. Straddling her breasts between his thighs, his cock remained a tantalizing few inches from her lips, dramatically awakening her salivary response to prepare for him. He rubbed her lips with his erection, and she tried to grab him with her mouth, but he stayed just far enough out of her reach that she was reduced to using her tongue, licking him over and over until he granted her his entire shaft. She finally latched on, sucking and pulling, rewarded by his groans and tiny taste of his pre-cum before he pulled out.

  Untying a few of his ropes, he rolled her to her side, stretching her shoulder muscles to accommodate his remaining restraints and settling her between his thighs to drive his unsheathed shaft into her pussy with a single force. Filling her channel with his breadth, he moved in and out of her wet cunt, returning her to the edge of uncontrolled pleasure. The effect reduced her breathing to steady gasps and her hips rocked in unison with his before she came again. Her pussy was still pulsing when he roared, filling her with his seed to leave a sticky residue staining her swollen lips and her aching thighs.

  There were only a few hours left until daylight, but she didn’t care. They were miles from everywhere and everyone who would bother them. From their distant spot in the parking lot, the FBI would keep them safe, but Cruz was the one with whom she placed all of her trust. He wouldn’t rest until he found out what had happened in the White House, and he’d be there for her, knowing what she needed even when she didn’t fully understand it herself.

  Holding her tightly, he spoke softly. “I love you, Victoria. You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world.”

  “I love you too,” she said as she buried her face into his firm shoulder. She fell asleep in his arms, the one place in the world where she felt safe, at home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They spent two of the best days of his life in that plain little condo, cuddling on the couch or working on the big Christmas-themed jigsaw puzzle they’d found in a back closet, and learning even more about each other’s past experiences and future dreams. Their kink continued as well, providing him with new information to deliver the most pleasure and identifying more of the small cues to indicate she was approaching her max. He remained alert, but felt safe in that thousand or so square feet. Few people knew where she was and, if the news accounts were any indication, few people were looking for her.

  By their third morning, he knew he’d have to contact the waiting FBI agents for more supplies. The essential nondescript vehicles in the parking lot had provided twenty-four/seven monitoring of the surveillance cameras surrounding the small apartment, but he postponed the call as long as he could. The outside intrusion would destroy the magic, pushing them back to a harsh reality where questions needed to be answered about jobs and fates. He had no idea what any of that was going to look like when this was all over, but with Victoria sound asleep on his lap, it would most definitely involve her.

  Careful not to disturb her, he used his FBI-issued cell phone to check the status of the ongoing investigation, but public information was all he had until he could reconnect to his sources back in DC. All of the reputable news agencies told the same, non-descriptive story, making him think that the feds were holding onto key evidence until they could put all of the pieces together. There were a few interesting accounts about Teresa Maddox, however, that included allegations of heavy drug use, hinting that there might be more to her than he’d originally been led to believe. He’d show it to Victoria when she woke up. As much as he wanted to protect her from the drama, she trusted him to share all that he knew.

  But another Google search led to an obtrusive headline across his screen, causing him sit up. Where is Vicky Ann? included an unflattering picture of Victoria showing way too much skin. The source was The Party, a successful, post-college venture run by a bunch of rich kids in their late twenties. Cruz had enjoyed the page’s political stand and smart writing in the past, but they always seemed to have a lot of quotes from Victoria and not all of them had portrayed her in a positive light.

  Since the explosion, a few alternative media sources had questioned her location, but this one quoted a ‘close friend’ of Victoria’s. “She’s feeling guilty over the whole thing because she thinks they were trying to kill her. She was a personal friend of Theresa Maddox’s and now she’s been forced into seclusion to some safe house a few hours from here. She’s completely isolated from everybody.” But the next quote was credited as Victoria’s. “I trust in my protection detail to keep me safe, and I don’t want people to worry about me. I’m fine.”

  The article included the standard response from the White House press secretary that asked for privacy for the president’s extended family, but it didn’t help his temper. He shifted his body a second time, and the move was enough to rouse her, slowly, like a little girl waking up from her nap. She gave a few of those adorably cute kitten moves, stretching her back with her arms over her head and succumbing quietly to a big yawn before sitting up and curling into his side with a shy smile.

  “Good timing,” he rumbled, studying her reaction carefully. “What do you know about this quote?”

  She looked a little confused, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, but the bright brown ovals grew damned wide when it registered that the article was about her. “I don’t know anything,” she exclaimed. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks, honest.”

  “Him? Who’s him?” he asked with a growl.

  “You’re kind of cute when you get all jealous,” she teased, “but Trevor King is sort of Amanda’s boyfriend. I was actually surprised that she didn’t move to Boston to be closer to him after we graduated, but she came back to DC instead. Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless.”

  “This is serious, Victoria,” he scolded. “That information is way too close to being accurate. Who exactly did you talk to after the explosion?”

  “Nobody,” she said defensively. “You didn’t even let me bring my phone out here, and you carry that FBI one around with you like it’s an infant. I haven’t been near it.”

  “Watch your tone,” he warned. “What about before we left DC? You wandered off a few times at the White House when I was setting all of this up. Did you talk to anybody then?”

  “Why are you being so suspicious?” she said, pulling away from him. “I saw some of the housekeeping staff. Most of them were pretty shaken up and a few of them were crying. We talked. We hugged. That was about it. I didn’t even call Amand
a, but I’ve been feeling guilty about that. She must be really worried about me.”

  “She’ll manage,” he said dryly. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility, but it’s unusual for the White House domestic staff to talk to the press. The article is vague and, under the circumstances, what he did get accurate could have been a good guess. He could have made the whole thing up.”

  “Trevor’s not some scumbag reporter,” snapped Victoria. “It’s a reputable paper. If he used the quote, he got it from somebody.”

  “You aren’t making the case that you’ve kept your mouth shut,” he responded in the same dry tone. “Either he made it up, or you talked to somebody. How does this guy get all of your quotes, anyway? Do you two have some kind of an agreement?”

  “Okay, well, maybe he got the quote legitimately,” she said with a frown, “but the person who gave it to him lied. That could have happened. And yes, he does get a lot of real quotes from me, and he probably does have access to White House staff through Amanda. She spends a lot of time there, but he’s a friend. We talk politics, and he encourages me to be my own person.”

  “That’s ending today,” he said sternly. “There are way too many leaks in your life, and we’re going to plug away at them, one by one, starting with this one.”

  Pointing her finger at him dramatically, she stood with her temper starting to boil. “You know, we need to get something straight. I understand all about this BDSM dom thing, and it’s great for the bedroom, but I’m still an adult and the scenes we play aren’t going to extend to my real life. I’m going to make my own grownup decisions because that’s what grownups do.”

  “I agree,” he said darkly, also standing. “I never said that I wanted to run your whole life. A relationship where the sub has no personal choices is too close to abuse for my tastes, but I’m not going to sit back and watch you make poor decisions. I may not be your bodyguard anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t give fuck about what happens to you.”

  She stared at him for a second before the tiny smirk appeared. “You really need to work on your romance skills, Cruz. This whole little lecture would probably have gone down a lot smoother for you if you’d said up front that you cared about me and don’t want to see me hurt.”

  “It’s implied,” he said dryly. “And this arrangement is going to be a lot less painful for you if you remember that I’m not the kind of boyfriend who’s going to be all gushy and sweet. I’m the kind of dom who’s going to beat your ass if you piss me off.”

  “Yeah, Agent What-the-Fuck?” she asked in a sassy tone. “Exactly what are you going to do about my attitude?”

  Damn, she had a way of turning on his dom side; the snarky little girl was just asking for him to take her to task. He was more than willing to give her what she needed, but he had a lot of ways to make sure that it wasn’t what she wanted. With a growl, he moved toward her, watching her face fall when she’d realized exactly how far over the line she was. “I can think of all sorts of ways to keep that mouth of yours under some kind of control,” he said darkly. “And you’re not going to like any of them.”

  After days without any real contact from the outside, the high-pitched trill of the cell phone’s ring tone startled both of them, and he was shocked to find Joe MacMillan on the other end. “Cruz,” he said without any greeting. “You two need to come back to Washington. The White House is clear, and there’s no reason to stay away.”

  To give Victoria firsthand information, Cruz put the call on the speaker phone with his finger to his lips to keep her quiet. “How did you get this number, MacMillan? I thought only the FBI knew how to reach us?”

  “Everything was given to us about an hour ago,” said MacMillan dismissively. “It’s over. They’re pulling your FBI extras right now. Get her back here, and that’s an order, so don’t give me any of your shit. The maid received a large deposit of cash from some offshore account the day before the explosion, so she’s their number one suspect. Logistics revealed a faulty timing device, so I’m guessing she just fucked it up and got herself killed. Nobody with any credibility is taking credit, and that’s unusual, but everything else supports the theory that the president was the target, not Victoria. She’s fine. I’ll expect you back here by six tonight, and we’ll talk about the next steps.” He hung up before Cruz could say anything else.

  Cruz wasn’t ready to take orders from MacMillan, but he couldn’t think of a single reason to keep her removed from her DC life. She gave him a few seconds of reflective silence to think about it, but he finally sighed. “Let’s pack. You probably will be better off in DC.”

  It only took a couple of minutes to prepare for their departure. With one of the backpacks over her shoulder, Victoria spoke sadly from the door of the condo. “Maybe all of this is going to work out. He made it sound like you still have a job, but I feel bad about Teresa. As much as I want them to figure out who did this, I really don’t want it to be her.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed absently, gently pushing her through the door. “And as long as you move back to the White House, I won’t worry as much, but under the circumstances, the Secret Service job probably isn’t the best place for me. I’ll pull my resume together, and I have some cash put aside to get me through the interim. It’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said with a sigh. “But I’m guessing that you won’t listen to what I have to say, anyway. I’m just glad all of this is over.”

  “I’ll always listen to what you have to say,” he said, tapping her nose gently. “But watch how you say it because we’re going to be back in the city in about three hours, and there are a few lessons you still need to learn about submission in my world.”

  But no matter what she said, it wasn’t over. The nagging, underlying uncertainty that had haunted him for weeks refused to dissipate, and MacMillan’s phone call had come out of nowhere. Despite the fact that the guy was a dick, Cruz had a hard time believing that the veteran Secret Service agent had anything to with any of this, but he’d completely contradicted Cruz’s understanding about their security. He also had a boatload of unanswered questions concerning Victoria’s safety with the press, and the semi-accuracy of the King quote bothered him more than he could explain.

  Holding her hand tightly, they went to the parking lot to find that the FBI vehicles were gone. Before he could open the car’s passenger door to put her inside, she pulled back. “I’m going to miss this place. Can we put our feet in the ocean before we go? I’ve been at the beach for almost three days and haven’t even touched sand. Maybe we can buy one of these condos and fix it up the way we want. It’s an easy drive from DC, and it’s a great place to continue with our, uh, slightly kinky arrangements.”

  Cruz sighed, pointing her toward the beach. “You do know that there’s nothing ‘slightly’ kinky about what we do, don’t you? We can check out the water, but we’re not talking about buying a vacation place while I’m unemployed. I’m not going to let anybody say that I went into this relationship for your money. We’re going to keep some boundaries.”

  “And that,” she said with a smirk, “is probably the most romantic thing that you’ve ever said to me. We really need to work on your dating skills.”

  “I have all the dating skills I need, little girl,” he said with an arched eyebrow. “Maybe I should take you back upstairs and show you some of them before we leave?”

  Laughing out loud, she took off like a bullet, leaving him with their bags and throwing that blonde hair over her shoulders as she ran. “Hey,” he called out with a grumble, still unwilling to use her name in public. “Wait for me.”

  It took him a few seconds to secure the luggage in the trunk of the car, especially the one filled with FBI-issued guns. Moving quickly, he closed the gap between them as she reached the pool area leading down to the beach, his palm twitching slightly with eager anticipation of how she’d pay for the sassy maneuver. An earlier pop-up thunderstorm had soaked the chairs and decking
, leaving big puddles and few tourists except for a small family with two blonde-haired preschoolers in matching blue ruffled bathing suits splashing happily in the kiddie pool. Slowing her pace, Victoria passed the adults on lounge chairs, offering them a brilliant smile and a friendly hello on her way to the beach and turning long enough to give him a smart-assed wave.

  The van was parked on the grass about twenty yards ahead of her, the idling engine immediately put him on edge, but he didn’t have time to call her back before a stranger stepped from behind the wall and grabbed her by the hair, a small-caliber Glock in his right hand. With a shout, Cruz drew his gun and ran toward them, but the distance was too large to cover quickly, and with the panicked family in his sight line, he had no clear shot at anything. “Federal agent,” he shouted to the parents. “Get the kids down.”

  On her own, Victoria was fighting for her life, scratching and punching at the bastard’s eyes and landing a few solid kicks to his groin, but before the perp could get her to the van, he pushed her to the ground and fled without her. Cruz ran past the young parents who were frantically grabbing their children, reaching Victoria just as her assailant jumped into the vehicle.

  Breathing heavily from sheer adrenaline, he stood between her and the van, his gun still drawn between two steady hands, but there was no way he’d leave her to give chase, and the sparse crowds on the beach still denied him a clear shot. The suspects took off, leaving huge ruts in the grass before hitting the pavement with a squeal of tires. He mentally took down the plate, make, and model, but had a pretty good suspicion that either the vehicle or the plates were stolen. Still on edge, Cruz surveyed his surroundings for additional threats. With big dark eyes full of fear, she’d stayed frozen on the ground until he nodded, a silent approval that all was well.