by Rowena
I get her drift.
“I’ll wait outside while you do your thing,” I say.
No one likes someone hanging over their shoulder, and there’s really no need for me to be in her unit while she does her routine.
“That’s a good idea,” she agrees lightly, though the signs of arousal all over her. My cock stirs. “I need to shower, check my messages…”
I’m not sure what else she said because my mind got stuck on the word ‘shower,’ birthing from it a fantasy sequence involving both of us in there, the spray on our skin as…
“Hello! Earth to Jimmy!”
She’s snapping her fingers in front of my eyes and my eyes eventually focus on her hand, my mind returning to the present.
“Don’t ever call me Jimmy,” I say firmly.
“Or else what?” she says with fake sass.
She loves pretending she has way more power than she has.
“You really want to challenge me now?” I say, calling her playful bluff since a very real threat exists with the slow expansion of my greedy cock.
She backs away immediately, clearly acknowledging my power to fuck her senseless again, making her beg and beg for more.
I really need to get out of here.
I head to the door.
“Keep it locked, stay away from a direct path, don’t answer it to anyone but me.” I swing it open and step out. “Call or text me if you need me to come inside,” I say, fully aware of the many interpretations and meaning every single one.
She nods, her eyes widened a little, and after closing the door behind me, I hear the locks engage.
I head to my car.
Can be there tomorrow.
I sigh in relief at Aaron’s text, grateful for both the message and the interruption of the quiet boredom as I hang out in my car outside Angel’s place.
Once Aaron gets here, we’ll likely crack the case pretty soon and find out who Angel’s stalker is.
I had hoped it wouldn’t take longer than a week to sort things out for Angel, and it seems we’re right on schedule.
Well, in this one way, at least.
I did not plan to end up in bed with her; I had no intention of compromising my mission by getting entangled with her, thrusting my cock between her legs, blowing my load inside her—not while she’s in danger, anyway.
And now look where we are—no closer to finding her stalker, but closer to each other than ever before, which is a win, in my book.
I’m more confident that when this whole thing blows over, she and I can finally be together.
But I can’t focus on that right now—I have to sort out a replacement, find someone who can do for her what I have partially failed to, which is look out for her best interest at this time; it certainly wasn’t in her best interest for me to get distracted the way I did.
I start making calls, searching for someone available, willing, and able to be here soon—someone with the time to hang around for the next few days.
A few of the guys I know are out of the military—some honorably discharged, others, not so much.
I’m willing to pay whatever they need to make it worth their while.
It takes a few tries, but I finally get a hit.
“How soon can you get here?” I ask Butch, the brother of a deceased friend of mine from our joint special forces team.
Butch has a military background himself, and he’s been sort of bouncing around since being discharged—doing bouncer work, security guard shit.
“As soon as you can fly me down. And I get to stay in your condo, right?”
“Right. You’ll have your own bed and bath. We’ll tag in and out—I’ll hang out with her during the night…”
He chuckles.
“What?”
“I heard about your crush, and I can’t believe you finally got her.”
“What do you mean ‘got her?’ I’m just making sure she’s safe. She contacted me…”
“Look, no judgment here. Can’t really control how you feel, right?”
“Right,” I agree, getting an odd impression, but unable to make heads or tails of it. “You sure you’re okay with the rate?”
Maybe I should offer him more—it’s pretty short notice after all.
“Oh, yeah. That’ll hold me over good,” he says. “For what you’re giving me, I’ll be there whenever you need me. I can even watch while you two go at it if you want.”
“Get the fuck outta here. Soon you soon, bud.”
Butch’s impending arrival means I have less than a day to make the most of with Angel.
Butch gets in late tonight and begins his shift tomorrow morning.
He’ll keep an eye on Angel’s place until it’s time for her to leave it for whatever reason—lunch, errands—like I’m doing now.
It kills me that I have to pass her on to someone else, but it’s the right thing to do.
I can’t look out for her like I should; instead of having her back, I might have her bent over, taking it from the back, shoving my hard cock in and out of the hot sweetness I’ve come to know.
Instead of paying attention to the environment around her while she people-watches, sipping her latte, I might end up scouring for places I can drag her to for a quickie, searching for opportunities to take her against a wall, in a bathroom stall.
Even now, my body is gearing up to move things along to have her beneath me again, my cock growing at the possibility.
You’d think after three times overnight I’d calm down a bit.
Luckily, my phone buzzes, killing the mood a bit, but I see it’s a text from Angel and my groin area gets going again.
I can send you some good zombie stories to read while you’re out there, her message says, making me smile.
Gotta stay focused, I send back. Don’t forget to feed me, though.
And just like that, my mind’s in the gutter again as I imagine my head between her legs, eating her sweet pussy.
I’ll make something this time; you can come up. Around 12?
I check the time—four hours from now.
I send her a thumbs up emoji.
I head back up to Angel’s for lunch, intent on keeping things professional.
I’ll update her about the guys coming over—both Aaron’s impending arrival and Butch’s—fill my belly, then get out.
“When does he start?” she asks me after I’ve told her about Butch.
“Tomorrow morning,” I say, keeping my eyes on my sandwich. “Any new messages from J?”
She shakes her head. “Just the usual: You’re so hot. Go kill yourself. Get a real job. Marry Me. You know.” She shrugs, and I’m again struck by how well she takes it all.
Her casual shrug wasn’t forced—for the most part, it’s clearly easy for her to brush off the various energies coming at her daily.
No matter what, she seems happy.
“I can’t believe how many crazies you expose yourself to,” I say, wondering how many more could be lurking, waiting for the right time to pounce.
“You’re one to talk.”
“What we do is not similar in any way.”
“No, but lots of jobs come with some sort of risk. Yours is one of the most dangerous. I’m good with not having to worry about land mines or friendly fire or whatever.” She shrugs again. “Internet crazies gon’ crazy. I’m happy with the way my life is career-wise, and I wouldn’t change a thing. As far as I’m concerned, this creepy guy is just another type of challenge, and dealing with him will help me learn how to manage my security better as a public person.” Then she gives me a tentative look, which is unusual since she tends to be fairly bold about getting answers to questions, so I know what’s coming worries her.
“Do you plan on sticking with the military until…?”
“Until a helicopter I’m in gets shot down?”
Until my team gets taken out by an RPG? Until I get hit by friendly fire?
I see now why she had that expression; death is a f
airly sensitive subject for most.
Many of us remaining know someone who never made it back; it’s pretty much a guarantee with this line of work.
I’ve had a funeral to attend at least once a year for the past few years. Two of those guys died at home, one after putting a gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. He’d been tasked with literally picking up pieces of his friends blown up by an IED, and I guess he eventually got sick of the mental images haunting him.
I shrug. “Depends,” I say.
“On what?”
I’m not sure what to say for a moment.
“On the options presented to me,” I finally say.
As vague as that was, she doesn’t press it.
I think she got my meaning, the things I wanted to say.
She’s a smart girl, despite careless obliviousness at times.
For example, it seemed to surprise her that I’d had feelings for her all this time.
I always thought I was good at hiding them since neither she nor Leonard caught on, but others did, and not just Tyler—someone who was around me far more than Leonard was these days and knew me better. Her friend spent one lunch with us and picked up on it immediately.
Now that it’s in her mind, I figure it’s easier for her to accurately interpret what I’m saying—or in this case, not saying—and I think she’ll appreciate I didn’t apply additional pressure at this time.
“I feel so bad you’re hanging outside for hours,” she says lightly, changing the subject. “I see now why my compensation offer was so pathetic. I’ll make dessert with dinner this time. Come up around six.”
She digs in her purse for a moment then hands me a key.
“A copy in case of…emergency,” she says, not looking me in the eye.
When I meet back up with her for dinner, I quickly realize that, despite my best intentions, it’s just not possible to keep my hands off her.
Once the dinner is done and I’m supposed to go back to my car, an ache fills me, and I can’t bring myself to leave her.
She probably could have done a better job of keeping us focused if it was just up to her, but unfortunately, my desire to bring my lips to hers again is too strong.
Before she can clear the table, I move to her, pulling her up from her seat.
Once our lips come together, our tongues invading each other’s mouths, my cock rises to the occasion and drowns out all logic.
I can tell she’s having a hard time resisting me, so I forge ahead.
I clear a space for us on the table, plopping her butt down on it while I loose myself from my pants, my cock happily bouncing free of the restraints.
Her eyes go to it as she breathes shallowly, her mouth hanging open while she pants.
I pull down her bottoms, panties with them, and free her ankles from them, tossing the clothing aside.
I grab her hair as I kiss her hard again, my hand making its way to her core.
She is definitely wet, and I slip a finger inside her, sliding it in and out as a tease of what’s to come.
Her moans get louder, and she suddenly grasps my cock then starts moving her hand up and down it.
She looks up at me with longing, and that’s it—positioned between her legs, both of us still in our tops, I find her sopping entrance with the head of my cock and then push inside her with one thrust, making her cry out.
I grab her legs, encouraging her to wrap them around me, which she does.
I look down at our joined bodies for a moment, my thick, engorged cock plugged into her juicy slit.
I take the mental picture, then I start moving, pounding her wet pussy hungrily.
I find her mouth with mine, and our lips stay locked, our tongues dancing with each other while I plow her warm cavern.
We stay connected in both ways as we take pleasure from each other, still kissing while her small hands finding my thrusting hips, resting on my clenching butt cheeks as I pump into her pussy over and over again.
Moaning and groaning in each other’s mouths, her body tightening in a certain way sets me off, and we both climb toward climax, our movements more frenzied as we thrust and thrust and thrust.
The grip of her orgasm milks me, and we hold each other’s bodies tighter as our sex organs throb against each other in our juicy finish, my cock shooting jets and jets of cum inside her once again.
Inside my chest, somewhere behind my ribcage, I feel open in a way I know I can’t come back from.
I barely stop myself in time from telling her how I feel—how thoroughly I belong to her.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” she says breathily. “I’m glad I didn’t stick to that stupid celibacy plan with you.”
“Angel, there’s no way I won’t fuck you senseless every chance I get now.”
She giggles adorably. “I’m more than happy to receive you every night.”
Relief floods me, as my cock continues to flood her.
“This poor table,” she says, looking at it. “It’s been tainted. No pun intended.”
I laugh, still unwilling to break our connection, my thick cock still enjoying her snug warmth.
“I’ll sort it out—bleach it or whatever. Get a tablecloth. But no more banging where we eat, mister,” she says while lightly tapping her finger on my chest. Then she sighs against me. “Maybe you can sleep on the couch tonight instead of in your car.”
My smile widens, and I’m glad she can’t see its nature.
Sure, I’ll play along.
It’ll start that way, but I think we both know exactly where we’ll end up.
“Sounds good to me,” I say. “I’ll go down and grab a few things from my car. Oh, and don’t forget Aaron will be here sometime tomorrow, so hide your porn or whatever—he’ll be all up in your computer and other devices.”
10
Angel
I’m super disappointed when I finally meet Butch the next morning.
Not because he doesn’t look capable or anything, but because…well, he’s not James.
I know James and I are doing the right thing getting someone else, but it sucks not having him a short distance away; I realize how comforted I felt that he was nearby.
Butch will be doing the exact same thing he did—sitting outside and keeping an eye out for suspicious behavior, accompanying me on any errands—but it just doesn’t feel the same.
I still feel vulnerable for some reason, which is dumb because Butch looks exactly like how you’d expect a bodyguard to look—he’s about six feet, strong build, bald, and has unblinking cold gray eyes—not someone to be messed with at all. He looks super disciplined and focused, screams competency in every way and yet…
Guess I should just accept it—I’ve become super attached to James.
Obviously, I’m still underplaying it, deceiving myself a bit longer, but the truth is, I think I’m actually in love with him.
I always miss him when he’s not around, in a way that makes it clear that there’s no way things can go back to the way they were before.
It even makes me question our previous interactions.
Could we have ever been ‘just friends?’ Even without the complication of Leonard?
For example, if I had met James separately from everything—in a bar or whatever—would our chemistry have been so natural and easy? Would we have quickly torn each other’s clothes off, with me inspired to have a one-night-stand for the first time in my life?
Was I always attracted to him sexually but I was so committed to being a good girlfriend that I never recognized how I felt about him until it was staring me in the face? Until he was staring me in the face more specifically—that one dance we had at the wedding almost illuminated everything, but I quickly convinced myself of a different narrative at the time. It was just the soft lighting, the romantic music, the way I seemed to fit in his arms, the relief at being rescued from the embarrassment of my boyfriend’s abandonment; I’d simply been seduced by a fantasy come to life.
B
ut could it really be that all this time…?
No. I couldn’t have missed it.
But how else do I explain how quickly James got to me, how deeply he has already embedded himself inside me? He’d been chipping away at me all this time, and I simply hadn’t been aware—or more likely, I blinded myself to what was in front of me once again.
And like a beaver or termite colony, there he went, chomping away at parts of my foundation and then one day, the entire carefully constructed structure came crashing down and I became vulnerable to him.
Shit.
I can’t be with a guy like that—he lives in such a dangerous world.
He did imply he had other options, though, and I think… no, I definitely want to explore them with him.
Maybe the next time I see him we can talk about it—our future.
No use putting things off longer.
I’ll invite him in once he and Butch switch tonight and we’ll have a serious talk; I’ll let him know how I feel.
Butch is accompanying me to a coffee house this morning.
It’s just me this time—no friends or industry people to meet.
I like being outside every now and then, taking time to relax in open air, people-watching behind my shades.
I get some of my best ideas when not trying hard—like how showers suddenly provide answers when you’re taking a break from actively brainstorming a solution.
I’m on my second mocha when my phone buzzes with a text.
I smile, thinking it’s from James, but I quickly realize it’s from an unfamiliar number.
You have angered me. You were supposed to save yourself for me. You will pay.
Alarm rises in me.
This phone number is definitely not listed anywhere—I have a specific number set up for my business as Lailah.
I had my number changed after college, and only people who actually have a relationship with me—friends and family—have it.
“He sure does love you,” a masculine voice says near me, and it takes me a second to realize it’s the new bodyguard.
He’s looking in my direction, but with his dark shades, I’m not one hundred per cent sure he’s actually talking to me.
