by Sylvia Fox
The weight atop me was suddenly lifted and a hand touched my face.
“Ambrose. Ambrose, are you alright?”
The voice of Sledge. That deep, rumbling bass I’d known since I was a little girl.
I was safe.
We were safe.
I sat up and looked at what I could make out in the darkness. The van sat where it had been, the driver slumped over the steering wheel behind a shattered windshield. The man in the back of the van was flat on the floor, still as stone.
No one moved.
CC and Taylor were in a sobbing embrace behind Sledge, who was dressed all in black.
“Ambrose, if you’re okay, we need to move. I got the drop on this group, but they won’t be alone. I’d also rather not spend New Year’s Eve talking to Metro,” Sledge explained, referencing the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.
He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. I started to look down at where Scott lay, but Sledge put a hand on my face.
“Don’t look at that. Don’t look back. Christina, Taylor, stay with us. Back the way we came. Toward the Strip. Quickly, now.”
The commands Sledge gave left no room for interpretation. His tone was authoritarian and all business. “The three of you, right next to the crane. Stay in the light. Don’t move. Look at each other. Find strength in each other.”
We huddled together as he stepped quickly back to the site of the carnage. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him drop to one knee and roll one of the men over and yank the back of his shirt up. He studied tattoos he found there and shook his head.
“Go! Now!”
Sirens were getting closer, and he led us back to and through the fence. Within minutes, we were back at the periphery of the crowd.
“Ambrose, hold my hand. You hold Christina’s, Taylor at the rear you’re the tallest, it’ll be easiest to see you. I’ll guide us through. Side of the Sirocco is our goal. Keep hold of each other’s hands. Let’s move.”
Sledge’s rough hand engulfed mine in an iron grip, and I reached down to squeeze Christina’s. We formed a human chain and Sledge navigated us through the swelling crowd with aplomb.
We arrived back at our hotel and Sledge swiped a keycard at a service entrance. A long corridor ran away from us to the right, an elevator to the left, and a large set of double doors directly ahead. Once we were all inside, he pulled the door shut and tested it.
“Sit down. Everybody. Deep breaths,” he instructed.
The three of us slid to the floor, crying and holding onto each other.
He squatted down in front of us.
“Is everybody okay? Physically, I mean. Any injuries? Anything at all?”
We all shook our heads. Aside from bumps and scratches, we were, mercifully, unharmed.
“Did any of you drink or take anything any of them gave you?” Sledge asked.
We all looked at each other and shook our heads.
“No, they didn’t give us anything. What was that? What’s happening?” Christina sounded frantic.
He took her face in his hands and made eye contact. “Hey, hey, you’re safe now. Nothing can happen to you now. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“Those men were traffickers. Sex traffickers, more than likely. If I know my tattoos, they were Romanian. I can’t believe they were that brazen.”
“How did you…” I wiped tears from my cheeks and managed to blurt out the words, but not finish the sentence.
“I was watching the three of you. Chaperoning from afar. In the SEALs we have a saying ‘Two is one; one is none’. If you have two of something, it doesn’t matter if one gets broken or lost. If you have one and it doesn’t work or can’t be found, you’re sunk. It boils down to ‘always have a backup’. I was your backup.”
I rose onto my knees and hugged his neck. I cried on his shoulder even as CC and Taylor embraced and wept together. I didn’t want to let go.
Shortly, hotel security arrived to find out why we were there, and Sledge gave them a brief explanation. He led us down the hallway to a service elevator that took us up into the hotel tower, where we switched to the express that took us up to our floor.
“You’re safe in here and you’ll have a good view of the fireworks and everything. I’m going to have two men posted on your door. I have some phone calls to make to my contacts in local law enforcement and the FBI. If you want me to, I can call your folks and let them know. Or not. It’s up to you. Order anything you want to eat. I’ll have some champagne sent up.”
The three of us encircled Sledge and hugged him, thanking him again and again for rescuing us. He gave us a squeeze and told us he’d check in on us in a bit.
Once he was gone, we huddled up on my bed, the largest in the suite.
“What. The. Fuck? How fucking insane was that?” I asked. I was pacing the floor now, adrenaline still pumping through me.
CC opened a soda she’d pulled from the minibar and chugged half of it.
“That was the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me,” CC said. “I need a shower. I peed myself when he grabbed me.” She burst into tears and we did our best to comfort her.
“Use my shower. It’s amazing. Stay in it all night if you want to. I need chocolate,” I told my friends. “T, hand me the phone, please.”
“I got this,” Taylor said.
She picked up the phone and dialed up room service.
“Send up the entire dessert menu. One of everything. Yes, that’s right. Oh, and three of everything that’s chocolate. Thank you.”
We all laughed for the first time since we met the quartet of college football playing imposters. As strange as it was to laugh after something so traumatic, we were in shock. And just grateful to be alive.
We wouldn’t think of the what ifs now. That would be later.
Christina showered and we all changed into comfy clothes, and when the dessert cart arrived, we inhaled pie, cheesecake, mousse, ice cream, brownies, cake and every other sugary concoction the Sirocco’s chefs could concoct. We ate our feelings. Every last one of them.
We fell into a heap on my bed, moaning and holding our tummies. Out my window, the Bellagio’s fountains shot skyward and the crowd below swelled.
Christina took two Tylenol PMs, saying she didn’t care about fireworks, she wanted to wake up and have it be 2017. And that she’d never been so ready to be back home.
Taylor drew a bath, wanting to soak in the New Year. She took a bottle of champagne with her and left the door to her bathroom open, affording her a view of the window, where she’d be able to watch the fireworks. She was quiet, and I guessed scared. We all felt so stupid.
We were the daughters of fucking SEALs. How had we been so stupid?
After I lay sprawled on my bed a while, I checked my phone. We’d decided not to scare our folks with news of what had happened until the next afternoon, when we’d be flying home anyway. We figured it wasn’t worth ruining their New Year’s Eve celebration, since we were safe and there was nothing they could do but worry.
I had texts from a few friends wondering how everything was going and expressing their envy, and then one from Sledge:
“Checking in. Hope you’re okay. Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”
I replied:
“I’m okay. We just ate our collective weight in desserts. C is asleep. T is taking a bath.”
His response caught me off-guard.
“Think they could spare you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I feel terrible about what happened and I want to see you. I want to be sure you know you’re protected. My condo is attached to the hotel. Hang out a bit?”
I read his text three times, then jumped up and went to stick my head into Taylor’s bathroom.
“Are you okay? I mean if I leave for a little while, are you okay?”
“What do you mean ‘leave’? To go where?”
“To see Sledge. He wants to make sure we’re alright.
I didn’t want him to come in while you were in the bath.”
She gave me a smirk. “Behave yourself, Ambrose Wellington.”
“It’s not like that,” I insisted.
“Cheers,” she replied, lifting her bottle of champagne in an imaginary toast. “We only live once, friend. Make the most of it.”
“Love you,” I answered, rolling my eyes and spinning to leave. I walked back to my room and texted Sledge en route.
“Yes, I’d like that. Meet me at my door in fifteen minutes?”
I checked myself in the mirror. The amazing makeup had been ruined by tears, but my hair still looked as good as it ever had. I was wearing one of my college hoodies and a pair of gray sweatpants.
Glamour had been abandoned for comfort.
I went into the bathroom and used a washcloth to remove as much of the rest of the makeup as I could. Satisfied that I no longer looked like a sad clown, I put on flip flops and went out to the living room and swiped the edge of a towering slice of chocolate cake with my finger, licking it clean of the divine chocolate buttercream icing.
A knock signaled Sledge’s arrival, and I pushed a button on the small screen next to the door to display what the camera mounted outside saw: Sledge, changed into khaki pants and a tight green t-shirt that stretched across his pecs like a superhero.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
5
Sledge hugged me tight, and I never wanted him to let me go. He took my hand in his and led me down the hall to the elevators after instructing the security men outside the door to make sure our suite was guarded throughout the duration of our stay.
We crossed a skywalk to the adjoining Sirocco condo tower, and the express elevator took us to just below the penthouse, where his boss, the owner of the property, resided.
The elevator ride was awkward. He stood in the corner with his hands clasped behind him, and watched the highlighted numbers change as we climbed floors. As surreptitiously as I could, I gazed at the prominent bulge in his pants. More than ever, I wanted to feel it again. Feel it throb like when we shared that slow dance. I hoped he didn’t see me lick my lips while I stared at it. Or maybe I hoped he had seen. That he’d know what I craved so badly without me having to beg for it.
The floor we reached had four units, all occupied by members of the owner’s “cabinet.”
Sledge swiped his keycard and he held the door and let me walk in first. He had floor to ceiling windows with a view facing south on the Strip toward the MGM Grand and the great pyramid of Luxor.
The furnishings were sparse and masculine. Dark, natural wood and steel. Rough and hard. Like him.
The television in the living room was modest, especially compared to the giant flat screen we had in our hotel suite. It sat across from a simple black leather sofa.
He gave me a quick tour, showing me the guest bedroom, his office, the kitchen, and finally the master bedroom. I caught him staring at my ass numerous times.
His bed was perfectly made, a military habit shared by my father.
“This place is just as I imagined your place would be,” I remarked. “I wouldn’t change a thing, except putting a big TV at the foot of the bed. That bed looks so comfy and perfect for watching a movie.”
Sledge cocked his head slightly to the side and stared hard at me. “I believe a bed is only for two things. One of them is sleeping. The other isn’t watching TV.”
“Reading?” I asked, lifting my voice into a higher register, sounding more girlish. The sexual tension between us was making me itch.
“Ambrose,” he said my name. “Tonight was my worst nightmare. If something had happened to you…”
I stepped toward him and put my hand on his handsome face. His eyes were so despondent.
“You would never let anything happen to me,” I said. “And you didn’t.”
“I’ve never been so full of rage,” he said. “When I saw that fucked touching you at the fountains. It was hard not to make the jump right then.”
“Why?” I asked. “Only you can touch me? Because you’re the only one I want to ever touch me.”
My mouth was so close to his now.
“You know I want you,” he said. “But I can’t have you, Ambrose. I owe your father my life. I couldn’t…”
“But I want you too. Desperately, Sledge,” I said. “And if tha’s just for tonight, so be it. No one would ever have to know.”
“But what if I wanted more than a night?” he replied.
“Than take me for however long you want,” I said.
“Ambrose, you’re playing a dangerous game with me,” he replied.
I swallowed hard, turned, and leaned over. I placed both hands on the footboard of his bed, my feet planted too far behind me for my intent to be mistaken.
“I’m not playing a game. Not at all,” I insisted.
I arched my back to lift my ass and I stared straight ahead. I fought the trembling that attempted to overtake my body, but forcing myself to be still only increased the tremble deep in my core. Being alone with this man, surrendering my body to him so wantonly, I was so fucking wet.
I’d nearly lost my life tonight. All I wanted was to feel him inside me, to have him take everything I had. He deserved that. He’d saved me.
“Tell me what you want, Ambrose. You have to tell me.” His voice was low, and came from just behind my left ear. He wasn’t touching me in any way. Goosebumps formed all over my body.
“I’ve never… when you spanked me yesterday it was…” I struggled to make words.
“That dress you were wearing made me think very dirty thoughts, Ambrose. But now you’re hiding your body from me. I’m not sure which torment is worse.” His hand played with the hood of my sweatshirt, laying between my shoulder blades. “Being able to see your wicked curves yet not being able to have you, or knowing what’s under these bulky clothes but barely being able to see anything.”
His hand moved down to the small of my back. In the position I was in, my sweatshirt had ridden up just enough to expose a narrow strip of flesh. His index finger found it and slowly traced it, nudging the shirt up a bit higher.
“I…”
The words caught in my throat as his finger hooked itself into the waistband of my sweatpants, going to the first knuckle and dragging itself across the top of my ass.
“You’re shaking, Ambrose. Tell me to stop and I will. We’ll reach a point where nothing on Earth will stop me, but we’re not there yet. Should I stop?”
I could only whimper and grip the footboard harder.
He pulled the finger out of my waistband and pushed my shirt up to the middle of my back. His fingers spread across the small of my rear and he pressed down, gently but firmly, making me arch my back ever more.
“Just like that,” he instructed. “Keep it high in the air for me.”
I swallowed hard and shut my eyes tight, nodding.
“Ambrose, Ambrose, Ambrose…” Every time he said my name, I clenched down there. He stepped behind me and put his hands on my bare sides, letting them slide so that his fingers touched at my belly button and then back around so his thumbs met on my back.
I shimmied back as far as my awkward bend would allow, my body seeking his.
“Eager and shameless. I like that,” he said, his hands easing my sweatpants down just a bit as he continued to explore my back and sides.
“Your panties are black lace. Sexy. Were you hoping someone would see them tonight?” he asked.
I managed to rasp a single word back to him. “You.”
“Then you’ll want me to have a much better view than just the top, no?”
I nodded my head. My face was flushed as hot as the surface of the sun.
“Feet together. Maintain your back just as it is.”
On tiptoes, I slid my feet together, trying to keep my ass presented as he’d commanded.
I opened and closed my hands on the wood of his footboard, biting my bottom lip. I knew what
was coming next.
Slowly, he slid my sweatpants up and over the curve of my ass and then down my straightened legs. They puddled at my feet. He was seeing me in a way no man ever had.
He made a contented sound, sort of a “Humph” as everything came into view.
“Step out and spread your legs again, Ambrose. Don’t forget your back.”
I felt a tickle on the inside of my left thigh, and as it moved I realized what it was. I was so fucking aroused I was dripping.
He stepped back to admire the view as I spread my legs, and he noticed what I’d felt. He reached down with a single finger and caught the droplet, moving his finger back upward to collect as much if it as he could.
I had never been more mortified. Or more turned on. My heart was beating so hard I feared my ribcage would shatter.
“That’s delicious.”
My eyes flew open and my head, which had been hanging between my shoulders, shot up. He had tasted me.
“Give me more, Ambrose.”
He ran his hands slowly up the backs of my thighs and I gave up struggling not to tremble. My hips rolled and bucked. I must have looked like a whore. Desperately in heat.
He gathered up the edges of my panties in his hand and pulled them upward, putting much-needed pressure on my pussy and exposing the cheeks of my ass completely. I white-knuckled the footboard.
“Please fuck me, Sledge.”
The sound, feral and guttural, shocked me.
My pussy, my libido, had completely bypassed my brain and accessed my voice.
His hands were maddening, all over my thighs and ass, up to the small of my back, pushing my sweatshirt up to my shoulders and unhooking my bra.
He made no indication that he’d heard my request.
“I need you so bad, I need to get fucked, I’ll do anything, please!”
I was begging for Shane Hammer’s cock. Pleading with my father’s superior officer and best friend to fuck me.
“Yes, you will, girl. You’ll do anything and everything I order you to do, won’t you? I own this sexy body of yours, don’t I?”
With my bra hanging loose, he reached beneath me and let his palms graze my nipples. The touch sent shockwaves through my body, and I began to grind back against him in earnest. I could feel his erection pressing against me through his pants and the sodden mess that was left of my panties.
