Guardian

by Kaitlyn O’Connor

  He swept her into his arms without even groaning or straining, as if she weighed next to nothing. Transition from the living area to the bedroom wasn’t quite as smooth. He stumbled over something and ping ponged from one wall to another before he rang the door and then sort of leapt toward the bed with her.

  Or maybe sprawled?

  The landing was minimal. He managed it without breaking contact with her mouth or making her bite her tongue.

  Breaking contact after a moment, he pulled her upright and tunneled under her hoodie, pulling it off over her head and tossing it. Then he pulled his own shirt off and tossed it after the first and shoved her flat, pulling on first one nipple and then the other with the hot suction of his mouth until she was tugging mindlessly at his hair.

  Mindless because the last thing she wanted was to detach him—even for a moment.

  She felt like she was lying on hot coals, as if she was going to burst into flame any moment.

  Thankfully, he knew what to do to put the fire out.

  He yanked her pants down and plugged the cock in, waltzing up the bed with her in his effort to sheath his flesh.

  He stopped when he banged his head on the headboard, lifted his head and looked around. And then he dragged her back down the bed. Catching his cock in one hand, he dragged the wonder wand along her cleft to gather moisture, pulling notes from her throat she didn’t even know she could make as he bumped along the sensitive crevice with the hard knob of flesh.

  She let go of his hair and grabbed his arms, digging her nails in.

  He let out a hiss, but otherwise ignored the frantic demand.

  Confused by his objective, thinking he just couldn’t find the right spot, Marilyn lifted and settled trying to help him ring it.

  Finally, thankfully, he not only speared the mouth of her sex, his plowing efforts paid off. They still waltzed up the bed, but when they ran into the headboard he had just the bracing he needed to sink in and it was a wild ride after that. Enough pumping to send her into the stratosphere when the tension building inside of her snapped like a breaking rubber-band.

  She sang the lover’s anthem until he silenced her by covering her mouth and ramming his tongue down her throat.

  Almost the instant he managed to focus, he went off like a cannon.

  Marilyn could almost have sworn she felt the hot semen hit the back of her throat he was so deep.

  They were both asleep almost before they touched down again.

  Marilyn regained consciousness first, just as the first fingers of dawn began to peep through the blinds. In no great hurry to leap up, she coasted for a little bit, enjoying the warm body curled around her.

  And then she remembered what had brought her back to Jarrod’s apartment and she was instantly wide, wide awake.

  Unfortunately, she was also pinned to the bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Marilyn knew the odds were stacked heavily against her, but she also knew that she had a window that was closing fast if it wasn’t already closed.

  She was afraid that it was, but she felt a desperation to see if she could retrieve or delete the recording of her searching Jarrod’s place if there was even a chance of it.

  Unfortunately, Jarrod was a dead weight on her. He felt like he weighed a ton, and she doubted she could lift him at all, let alone remove herself from beneath him without waking him up.

  She decided to try, though.

  She tried just slithering out from under him first.

  His arm tightened.

  She stilled.

  After waiting for a count of three minutes, she tried rolling.

  He shifted closer.

  She subsided, thinking.

  Just about the time she decided she could try again, someone pounded on the front door like they meant to break it in.

  Jarrod left the bed as if he’d been catapulted from it, landing at the foot with his feet spread in a fighter’s stance.

  Marilyn was so stunned by the transformation she couldn’t do anything but gape at him.

  The pounding came again.

  Stark naked, Jarrod strode from the room.

  Marilyn couldn’t decide if he was sleep walking or knew what he was doing. She scrambled out of the bed, though, looked frantically for her top, and, spotting it, snatched it up as she heard Jarrod open the front door. His growl was unwelcoming.

  “What can I do for you … officer?”

  Marilyn almost had heart failure. On the point of heading for the bathroom, she whirled and ran on tiptoe to the door to flatten herself against it and listen.

  Dillard stared at the naked, thoroughly ruffled giant, and felt something he was unfamiliar with—fear.

  Maybe even a little envy.

  The librarian was right, he thought vaguely. This was no geek. He might look slender in clothes. Without them he was ripped muscle from neck down.

  It took him a minute to recall the story he’d cooked up. “Sorry to wake you, Mr. … uh…?” He studied his note pad, which was actually blank.

  The guy finally used one hand to gather his balls and dick in and cover them and Dillard’s head cleared. “I don’t seem to have your name on the list. You a new tenant?”

  “Depends,” Jarrod said in that same growly sleep laced voice.

  Dillard fixed him with his most intimidating frown. “On what?”

  “Your definition of new.”

  Dillard nodded and decided to launch into the ‘tale’ that had brought him. “We’re canvassing the area for statements from residents. We’ve had reports of some burglaries.” Which was true, except it wasn’t his case and they were pretty sure they already had the perp in custody. “If I could just come in for a few minutes to talk?”

  “No.”

  Dillard gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not dressed and my woman is in my bed.”

  Dillard felt his face redden. It annoyed the hell out of him. “Well … I guess I should stop by a little later to talk?”

  “Fine.” Jarrod slammed the door in his face.

  Dillard gaped at the door with a mixture of disbelief and dawning anger. What the fuck? Usually a threat to come back was enough to convince people to let them in and be done with it.

  This was some cool character, alright.

  Not a geek. He had none of the mannerisms you would expect and no lack of confidence—not really surprising considering the way the bastard was hung—and he didn’t have the soft build of somebody that never lifted anything heavier than a book.

  As Dillard made his way back down the stairs, it occurred to him to wonder if the guy was a cop. There was just something about him, Dillard decided, that said cop.

  Undercover.

  He decided to check that out.

  The kook was right, he thought. Something was definitely not kosher here. If he wasn’t an undercover cop—and he thought there was probably a good chance of it—then he was up to something serious.

  * * * *

  Jarrowd was pissed as he stalked back to the bedroom. Now he was wide awake, after being out half the night relocating a couple of witnesses, and then screwing half the night.

  Not that his brain was functioning at full capacity after so little sleep.

  Marilyn was in the bathroom he discovered when he got there.

  Releasing a pent up breath of frustration, he settled on the side of the bed to wait.

  It occurred to him that he not only did not have to leave now, he could not.

  Because that was no longer an option!

  Because he was fucked!

  Cop to cop—he knew what suspicion looked like and that bastard had him in his sights. If he tried to relocate now he’d just track him down.

  And the only way he could ‘lay low’ was by telling his superiors that he was under suspicion and had to lay low and he was not confident he could cook up a story to cover his ass. They would assume, rightly so, that he had screwed up.

  Not that he did not admire Marilyn’
s inquisitive mind and tenacity, but it was damned inconvenient!

  It had been bad enough when it was only her he had to worry about.

  Now he had a bloodhound on his tail, as well.

  He was diverted from his internal venting by the sound of the shower. He got up immediately and headed for the door.

  It was locked.

  He gave the lock a jolt and walked in.

  Marilyn had just pulled her top off over her head.

  He admired the breasts, but he frowned, wondering when she had put the top back on.

  She got tangled trying to yank it back down.

  He helped her by pulling it off.

  “I was … going to take a quick shower. I mean, if you’re ok with that?”

  “Sure. Come on in.” He stepped in and hauled her behind him. “Damn that is hot water, woman.”

  She did not look particularly pleased that he had joined her, but he diverted her by lifting her straight up and sucking on one pert nipple.

  She delighted him by throwing both arms and both legs around him.

  “Easy access,” he murmured, bracing her back against the shower wall and forming a shelf for her ass with one arm while he grabbed his cock to ram it home.

  She gasped when she felt the maneuver, but she did not object and there was just enough moisture to make a connection possible. He still had to jog her up and down a few times before he managed to completely sheathe himself, but it that by itself felt so damn good he was about to explode before he hit bottom.

  “Come on, baby,” he murmured, nuzzling his face against hers to encourage her to give him a kiss.

  She lifted her face in mute surrender and he pounced, kissing her deeply with his tongue while he delved her lower mouth with his cock. It was all either of them needed to shoot to the peak and fly over it.

  He was weak in the aftermath. It took all he could do to lower her gently to her feet. “Baby, I am an old man. You will be the death of me if you keep jumping me like this.”

  Marilyn snorted.

  “I am serious. I think I might have just had a heart attack.”

  “And yet, you look so lively,” she said sourly.

  He chuckled. “Want to bathe me?”

  “Jesus! You can’t be ready to go again!” Marilyn snapped, not without amusement.

  “I am always at attention and ready for you, baby.”

  Marilyn shook her head and focused on bathing herself. She wasn’t terribly comfortable washing the semen off—which was her objective when she’d turned the shower on and that was before he’d given her a fresh deposit. But she scrubbed her genital area good when he stuck his head under the water.

  Not that there was much point in it beyond the discomfort of going around with sticky wet panties!

  Well, pants. She’d been in such a rush to break into his place the night before she hadn’t bothered with underclothes.

  She wondered if she dared try a quick look while he was finishing his shower?

  She decided she could at least try.

  She stepped out and dried off.

  “No snooping,” Jarrod growled from the shower. “You are liable to find something that could hurt you.”

  A cold chill raced down Marilyn’s back at that. She threw him a frightened look.

  Jarrod was looking at her. He shook his head. “Electronics, baby.”

  Nodding a little jerkily, she hastily dressed.

  She didn’t stop for a look around, though. She headed for the door and took off back to her place as fast as she could.

  There was no point in looking now.

  Clearly, he already knew.

  She would’ve liked nothing better than to hide in her apartment, but it wasn’t a terribly safe place to hide when he knew exactly where she was. Instead, she raced through getting ready for work and took off.

  She loved her job. She was ok with having days off. She needed them to prepare for the next work week, but she was always happier at work. It was quiet and she didn’t get much chance to interact with people, but she was at least around people that she had something in common with.

  At home, she was just alone.

  She felt exposed, though, once she got into the cavernous building with nothing but row upon row of shelves holding books. Suddenly, there seemed to be way too many places for someone to hide.

  She didn’t think Jarrod knew where she worked, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that.

  She tried to tell herself that Jarrod hadn’t really sounded angry, that the warning seemed to be genuine concern that she might touch something that could shock her.

  But she wasn’t as convinced as she wanted to be.

  It seemed to her that she could just as easily interpret the exchange as a very cold blooded threat.

  He didn’t strike her as cold blooded, but she had to admit that she hadn’t really ‘read’ him all that well.

  The inventor thing could fit, but that fit the geek scenario and he just didn’t seem to fit in that category at all.

  Not that there was any such thing as ‘one size fits all’. She was pretty sure most people thought of her as a nerd, or geek.

  But she didn’t believe Jarrod was even almost a geek.

  Accepting that she’d read him wrong from the beginning, she began to wonder, a little hopefully, if she’d assumed wrong when she’d decided he knew she’d been snooping. What if had been nothing more than a ‘be careful’ sort of warning?

  And did it matter?

  Because he was bound to check if he hadn’t already.

  Well, it did matter, she supposed, because she was already trying to hide and the suspense was really getting to her.

  She considered whether it would be helpful to go back and talk to Dillard, or not helpful at all. She’d overheard the conversation between him and Jarrod. And maybe the story wasn’t a story but an actual case he was working on, but it was also possible he’d decided to check out the tale she’d spun for him.

  Did she really want to tell him she’d searched Jarrod’s apartment, though? And now she was afraid he was going to make her disappear, not because she’d actually found anything, but because she’d been snooping.

  She might be better off locked up, she thought glumly.

  But she’d seen jail—in movies. She didn’t want to experience jail.

  On the other hand, she didn’t want to experience dead either.

  Could he be that cold blooded? To fuck the daylights out of her three times and turn around and kill her?

  Who was she kidding! Men did it all the time. Any time a woman went missing, they checked out the husband or boyfriend and exs first—because it was usually one of them that had disposed of her. She watched true crime!

  She was exhausted from the nighttime romp—all the unaccustomed emotion and exercise—and worry by the time she got off work, but she didn’t know what to do except go home. It wasn’t as if she had the money to go on the run.

  It really sucked that she’d barely climbed the first flight of stairs when she realized the men’s voices she heard at the top belonged to Jarrod and Detective Dillard.

  Chapter Nine

  Marilyn halted indecisively for several heart beats and then turned to tiptoe back down the stairs.

  Unfortunately, they’d heard her approach and when she flicked a look back over her shoulder, both men, who’d clearly been standing just out of sight at the top of the stairs, had leaned over to look down.

  She met Jarrod’s gaze with a wide eyed look of her own, glanced at Dillard, and then back at Jarrod.

  His eyes narrowed, his expression harder than she’d ever seen it and she knew instantly that he realized she knew the cop and …. Probably everything. She curled her lips up in a semblance of a smile. “Forgot something!” she called out merrily and then virtually raced down the stairs, out the front of the building and then whipped around the side and kept going until she reached the dumpster. Taking cover behind it, she huffed for breath, struggled to
listen over the noise her heart and lungs were making.

  “Please, please, please don’t follow!”

  By the time her heart had stopped trying to beat its way out of her chest and she could catch a decent breath she’d decided the fates had been smiling down on her for once.

  She didn’t entirely trust, though.

  Getting to her feet with an effort, she rose slowly and carefully until she could see over the edge of the dumpster.

  With her shit luck, she shouldn’t have been surprised to see Jarrod standing at the mouth of the alley or the fact that he whipped a look in her direction just as she stuck her head up.

  She ducked, crossing her fingers that he hadn’t actually seen her.

  “What are you doing down there?”

  Inwardly, Marilyn winced. Outwardly, she lifted her head and smiled as if she was so pleased to see him. “Jarrod!” she said, playing for time and wracking her brain for a believable lie.

  She decided to throw Dillard to the wolves. “I was hiding from that man. I think he might be stalking me.”

  Jarrod stared at her, doubtful but willing to give her a little rope. “The detective?”

  Marilyn gasped. “He’s a detective?”

  She got up and dusted herself off. “That is so weird! I don’t know why I’d keep seeing him. I certainly haven’t done anything.”

  “Well, except search my place.”

  Marilyn gaped at him. “I was … uh … looking for something I dropped.”

  “In my closet? Under the couch? Something you dropped that ran away and hid?”

  Marilyn looked at him in dismay. “You have a camera in your room, too?” she asked instead of telling him she’d been hunting the bathroom then. “I was looking for the bathroom. Mine’s on that side. I swear!”

  He shook his head at her, but as pissed off as he was that he was probably screwed because of her snooping, he knew it was his own damned fault, not hers.

  If he’d been doing his job and not focused on chasing ass, as humans called it, he wouldn’t have given enough away to scare her.

  And he had scared her.

  “It’s ok, Marilyn.” By the grace of the gods she hadn’t actually found anything that would enlighten her. She just had suspicions, and he had to make sure it stayed that way.