Royal Protection: Little Queens Duet 1

by Amy Briggs

  She started to moan a bit, as she guided her hips up and down my cock, driving me crazy. I started to rub my thumb on her clit gently while she continued riding me at a steady pace. As her pussy started to squeeze on my cock, drawing my orgasm out, I pulled her toward me so her body was pressed against mine, and she cried out in pleasure, meeting me thrust for thrust while her tits bounced against my chest. I grabbed at her hips roughly, falling over the edge and yelling out her name as I came harder than I ever had in my life. After screaming out my name one last time, her body fell to mine, sweat glistening on both of us.

  I could not recall a time where I’d been fucked so good. She was insatiable and we’d just gotten to my house. I hadn’t even shown her where anything was, and she was riding me like a goddamn cowgirl before I knew what had happened. I’d never get over this woman. As she rolled herself off me, both of us still breathless, I asked her, “Was that what you were going for in the car?” I tried to laugh, but I was so out of breath, it was almost impossible.

  Letting out a stifled giggle, she replied, “Yeah, something like that.”

  I pulled her to me, just holding her for a few minutes while we regained our composure.

  “Don’t ever forget that I love you,” I said, kissing the top of her head.

  “I could never forget something so important,” she murmured, nuzzling into me.

  The next day, I woke up to the smell of delicious food cooking. As the scent of bacon hit my nose, I felt my lips turn up in a little smile, waking me up slowly. I glanced across the bed to find that Ryan wasn’t there, but I could hear the faint sound of music coming from the kitchen. I pulled on his t-shirt that I picked up off the ground, inhaling his scent, and made my way down the stairs to his kitchen, passing by his gun on the nightstand, where he’d taken it off the night before. I mused to myself how mad I’d been when I found out what his job was, and how sexy I thought it was now.

  The smell of breakfast cooking coaxed me toward the kitchen like the Pied Piper. I loved breakfast. As I turned the corner, I found him shirtless, in basketball shorts, cooking away. I leaned against the doorway just watching for a moment, as he hummed along with the radio, fussing with bacon, and flipping pancakes. It was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  He turned around to grab a plate, and caught me watching him. “Well good morning, beautiful!” he said cheerfully. “Come over here and give me some sugar.” He waved me over to him, spatula in hand, making me laugh.

  I scampered over, wearing nothing but his t-shirt, and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me for a kiss. “Good morning,” I giggled.

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked, turning back around to check on breakfast.

  “Amazing. Must have been all that exercise before bed,” I replied.

  “That’ll do it,” he grinned at me, still humming along to the radio between our conversation. “There is coffee over there in the pot. Please, help yourself. Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, and then we’ve got fun day planned before heading down to Bar 7 tonight.”

  “Isn’t that the place we’re performing at on Saturday?” I asked, helping myself to a mug and pouring some coffee in it.

  “It is indeed. I know the guys who run it, and Caleb and I would like to fill them in on your situation so we can set a trap in case the stalker tries anything there. We have the element of surprise on our side this time. So, if he shows up, we’ll all be ready,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Well, that doesn’t sound very fun,” I replied, sipping my coffee.

  Spinning back around to me, pointing the spatula playfully in my direction, he answered, “Oh, just you wait. There’s plenty of fun to be had. Our kind just happens to be fun that will also keep my girl safe, so you can just put that pouty lip away right now.” He made a snarky face at me, then brought me a plate piled high, which changed my attitude immediately.

  “Here you go, my love.” He kissed my forehead as he handed me the plate. When I turned around to walk to the table, he smacked my ass with that spatula he’d been waving around, eliciting a little yelp from me.

  “Hey!” I said, rubbing my butt.

  “That’s a warning.” He pointed it at me again. “You get some coffee and bacon in you, and then get yourself ready. We’re about to have some fun in my town, without any worries today.”

  He brought his plate over to the table, sitting across from me. I took a bite of bacon that had some syrup dripping off of it, and I couldn’t help but let a little moan escape. It was so delicious, and I was starving. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten, and on top of that, we’d had a marathon session the night before, working up an appetite apparently.

  “This is so good,” I drew the words out.

  “Ah, there’s my girl,” he grinned, watching me devour the food he’d made.

  After we finished breakfast, we showered. Together of course, which always took twice as long, but we didn’t care. It was August, so it was warm, and I put on some denim cutoffs and a flowy teal tank top that matched the colors in my tattoos. Ryan always wore jeans when I saw him, and today was no different. He had such a classic, rugged look with his now full beard, his ripped jeans, and a tight white t-shirt that hugged his biceps. I was excited to go out and spend the day like a normal couple, which I guess we’d become.

  If you’d asked me two months prior if I thought I’d be in a relationship with anyone, let alone the man my dad hired to be my bodyguard undercover, I’d have laughed in your face. But there we were, driving in his truck toward the water, the wind blowing in our hair, our hands intertwined. We pulled up to a boat dock and parked. Before us was a huge boat, loading up with passengers.

  “Are we going out on the boat?” I asked excitedly.

  “We sure are. We’re taking a tour of the bay, under the bridge and by Alcatraz today. I wanted you to experience a little of the city I call home,” he smiled.

  I hadn’t been on a boat in years, and I could barely contain my excitement. I loved the water, and even though Nashville was home to me, I always looked forward to traveling to places near the ocean.

  We boarded the boat with the other tourists, finding some seats, and settled in. We spent the next couple of hours taking a guided historic tour of the bay, under the bridge, passing along the city. It was an absolutely spectacular day, only made better by his company. He pointed out various landmarks along the ride, and even let me take some selfies of us with my phone, insisting on kissing me in half of them. Every moment I spent with him, I fell harder, and I wasn’t afraid. He calmed me, and I made him loosen up. We were becoming the perfect yin and yang, and I supposed that since we were out on a boat, he was less concerned for my safety, and he let himself have fun.

  We stopped on the pier on our way back and ate some fabulous seafood, which always tasted better with a view of the ocean. We walked out to the end of the pier, just looking out over the ocean quietly. He had caught my glance and I noticed he was staring at me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong, babe,” he looked at me wistfully, with a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just enjoying this day.”

  I slid closer to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. “I haven’t felt this relaxed and free in as long as I can remember. Thank you for today. I needed it.” I rested my head against his chest.

  “Me too, babe.” He rested his chin on top of my head, pulling me into his embrace. “I love you,” he whispered, squeezing me a little more tightly.

  “I love you too,” I murmured into his chest, sighing. I was truly happy.

  Later that night, we got changed to head over to Bar 7. My sister was joining us, as was Mike, who I felt like I hadn’t seen in forever. Leo said he’d be meeting up with us later, but Travis hadn’t gotten back to anyone.

  When we walked in, I noticed the long custom-made bar along the wall. It was beautiful. I ran my hand along it, admiring the craftsmanship, when a cou
ple approached us.

  “Ryan! Hey man, how are ya?” he said, shaking Ryan’s hand. “You remember my wife, Brandi?”

  “I do! So great to see you.” Ryan kissed the dark-haired beauty on the cheek before turning to me.

  “Miranda, I’d like you to meet Irish… I mean, Chase.” He chuckled, and I realized Irish was a nickname. “And this is Brandi, his lovely wife.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say lovely,” she replied with a bright white smile, hugging me. Chase gave me a kiss hello as well.

  “So nice to meet you both. I’m really looking forward to performing here Saturday. This place is beautiful,” I said, admiring the bar. It seemed like they took great care of it, unlike a lot of the places we played.

  “Thanks so much. This is our baby, for sure,” Chase said.

  “Let me get us all a drink?” Brandi offered. The bar was still quiet; we’d gotten there earlier than the rest of the crew we were meeting up with, so that Ryan could talk to Chase about what had been going on. We all sat down at the bar, and Brandi stepped behind, taking our drink orders and pouring herself one as well. “So, I hear you have yourself some kind of fucking lunatic crazy stalker?” she asked me bluntly.

  “Brandi! Tone it down a notch, would ya?” Chase snapped at her, causing her to roll her eyes at him, turning her attention back to me.

  “It’s okay, she’s totally right. Someone’s been leaving notes, random flowers, and packages at venues I’m performing at. It started before the tour, but it’s gotten extra creepy since New Orleans,” I explained.

  “New Orleans! I fucking love New Orleans! I got kicked out of a pretty low-end strip club once in New Orleans. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, just telling my friend how pretty some of the ladies were, and how less than pretty some of the others happened to be, when one of them started yelling at me from the tiny stage about how much courage it takes to get up on that there pole. It was really something. That town is fucking great,” a large guy interjected, shaking his head. He’d come out of nowhere; taking me by surprise, but making me laugh out loud with the story he’d just told. His southern drawl made the impromptu story even better.

  Shaking his head, Chase waved in the man’s direction. “This is Jimmy. Feel free to ignore him.”

  Still giggling, I held my hand out over the bar. “Hi Jimmy, I’m Miranda.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miranda. I’ll be telling stories all night, so get comfortable.” He winked at me.

  “No, you will not be telling stories all night,” Chase replied. “You’ll be tending bar with my wife, who doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

  “Fuck you, my love.” Brandi flipped him the bird, and went to the end of the bar to fill some containers.

  “Alright, so what can we do to help you out, bro?” Chase turned his attention back to Ryan.

  “Well, we haven’t been able to catch anyone delivering any of this shit that shows up, since we have no connection to any of the venues they’re performing at. So, I was hoping that you could put the word out to your guys, on the DL, that any deliveries should be stopped, questioned, detained, whatever you’re comfortable with, particularly if it’s mentioned that it’s for Miranda.”

  Nodding his head, Chase replied, “That’s an easy one. You already know we’re a tight bunch here, so we got this.” He turned his attention back to me. “Miranda, I can promise you that nothing will get by us here. My guys will have this place on lockdown the rest of the week.”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble,” I replied. While I certainly wanted to catch this guy, I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass for one of our venues either.

  “It’s not any trouble at all, and if we can help catch this motherfucker, we’re all over it,” he assured me.

  “Thank you so much,” I replied.

  “Now, I’ve got some work to do, but you guys enjoy yourselves, and make sure you come Friday night for our show. We’ve been advertising it as a weekend event that’s not to be missed. Gallows for the Guilty, Friday, and the Little Queens on Saturday,” he beamed.

  “We can’t wait. We’ll definitely be here Friday,” I smiled.

  “Thanks again, man, I appreciate your help. Caleb will be here later tonight, too. He’s joining us the rest of the tour,” Ryan said.

  “You got it, man. You guys need anything while you’re staying here, just holler. We’re always here for our people.” He shook Ryan’s hand and walked off.

  “That’s a step in the right direction,” Ryan said, seeming satisfied.

  “You think we’ll catch the guy?” My eyes widened at the prospect of freedom.

  “Well babe, if he tries anything here, we definitely will. And that’s more than we’ve had to go with so far, so we’ll take it.” He squeezed my hand, and led me from the bar over to a table where our friends could join us.

  Friday night, we gathered at my house for some drinks before heading over to Bar 7 to watch the Gallows for the Guilty show. I would have rather had Miranda all to myself, but the guys were doing us a huge solid looking out for my girl, and it was the least we could do. I had seen them perform there before, and they were a fucking great band. I knew Miranda and Carmen would have a good time getting out anyway. Since we’d met with Irish down at the bar, he’d kept me updated, letting me know that no one had come by with anything, and no strangers, other than our sound guy, had stopped in. We vouched for Travis, so there was no one else lurking about so far.

  I drove us all over the venue, which was actually in Diablo, just outside of the city. Irish had tickets waiting for us, and backstage passes so that we could go anywhere we wanted. A table had been reserved for us as well; they really took great care of us. I made a mental note to offer my services if they ever needed anything, even just a favor off the books. As much as I didn’t want Miranda upset, I was really hoping that this guy would show up with something and we could nail him. He deserved worse than jail for putting her through the anxiety she’d had to endure, and before I turned him over, I’d planned to hand out some punishment of my own, if given the chance.

  The night had gone over uneventfully, and the girls had a fantastic time. The guys put on a hell of a show, and even sat with us for a few drinks afterwards. I hadn’t met Xander before; he was quiet, but killed it on stage. His wife Paige was quiet as well, but sweet as can be, and seemed to have a nice time hanging out with Miranda and Carmen. Shane, one of the other owners, who I’d met before, stayed for just one beer. His girl Gabi was recovering from a pretty serious surgery and wasn’t feeling that well, so she had stayed home.

  Even though I was friendly with the guys at the bar, I wouldn’t have necessarily considered them friends until that night. They’d gone above and beyond to not only make us welcome, but they looked after us, and that is what people in your fucking tribe do. Those guys were legit, and their women weren’t shitty to other women; they were funny and smart, and got along with Carmen and Miranda like they’d known each other forever. The majority of us closed down the bar, and while Carmen took off with Logan, a bar back who was Irish’s younger brother, Mike headed back to the hotel, and Miranda and I left to go back to my place.

  She seemed quiet on the ride home. “You okay?” I asked, bringing her hand to my lips while I drove us home.

  Swiveling her head in my direction, she smiled softly. “I’m great, actually,” she replied. “It was such a fun night.”

  “Yes, it sure was.” I squeezed her hand gently, resting it on my lap. “What did you think of the band?” I asked. I loved hearing her opinions on music. She always made me think harder about what I was listening to, and why something appealed to me.

  “I thought their sound was super clean. You can tell that even for a house band, which they think they are, they’ve been playing together for a long time. I think they’re better than a house band, actually,” she mused, clearly thinking it over.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked. I agreed with her, but wanted to hear her
professional opinion.

  “They have their shit together, for starters,” she chuckled. “They know who they are, and they own it. They’re not trying to be someone else. Carmen and I worked really hard at that. We do our Heart tribute every night, but that’s because they influenced us. And we figured if we owned it, and gave them their props every show for helping shape us as musicians, no one would ever say we were trying to be them.”

  “Wow, that’s fascinating. I had no idea that’s why you did it,” I replied. “I love all of your music, but I have to say, that portion of your show is one of my favorites. When you and Carmen eliminate all the noise around you, and it’s just you two and your instruments, out there on stage, just singing. It’s powerful,” I admitted. I got chills every single time I heard Miranda hit a high note, or belt something out.

  “Wow, thank you,” she replied, sitting up.

  “You know, I don’t tell you nearly enough how amazing I think you are,” I confessed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, you told me this morning in the shower once or twice,” she teased me, referencing the amazing blowjob she had given me in the shower.

  Laughing loudly, I blushed a little. “That doesn’t count, does it?” I was cracking up.

  Starting to giggle, she replied, “Oh it totally counts.”

  The next morning was the day of the show, and nothing had happened at Bar 7 all week. It seemed our stalker was either going to hit that night, or he was skipping San Francisco… or he was onto us. Either way, we were off to Portland afterward for a Sunday night show there. The girls didn’t do many of those because two nights in a row was a lot for them, and Sunday shows were apparently hit or miss when it came to good crowds.

  Voodoo Donuts was originally where the girls wanted to get food in Portland, until the incident in New Orleans, so they were both crabby and disappointed that doughnuts were ruined for them and wanted me to catch the stalker today in retaliation. I shook my head, laughing at them as they explained their philosophy for avoiding the most well-known doughnut joint that wasn’t a chain while they sat getting their hair and makeup done by Leo.