Thresh: Alpha One Security: Book 2

by Jasinda Wilder

  “Oh…fuck. Fuck. I’ll—oh goddamn, Lola—I’m gonna strip you naked and kiss every single perfect inch of your fucking glorious body. I’m gonna start at your hands and then your feet and work my way in to all the best parts, and I’m gonna save your sweet pussy for last. By the time I get there, you’ll be begging me to lick your pussy. And I will, baby, I’ll lick you until—oh fuck, oh fuck, god, Lola, don’t you fucking stop now.”

  I took him from my mouth and grinned up at him. “No? Don’t stop? Like you did, earlier? Got me to the edge, and then chose that particular moment to ambush the bad guys?”

  He slammed his head back against the headrest. “Knew I’d pay for that.”

  I caressed his length again, the upper few inches now wet with my saliva. I gathered a mouthful of spit and, making sure he was watching, let it drop into my palm, and then smeared it onto his head and used both hands to spread it all over him, top to bottom—only there was so much of him that I had to spit into my hand again just to coat his entire massive, lovely length. And when he was fully coated, I wrapped both hands around him at the base, one atop the other, and started pumping his length. No more fucking around, now. No more teasing. No more playing.

  He groaned long and loud, then, when I started caressing him faster, with long smooth strokes up and down his unbelievable cock.

  “Tell me what else you’re going to do to me, Thresh.” I lowered my face to his cock, smirking up at him. “Tell me what you’re going to do to my pussy.”

  Ohhhh, I was twisting in desire, just thinking it, just saying it. Dirty talk was never something I’d done, it was new, and it was sexy and erotic and I could have come again right then if I’d let him touch me.

  “God, Lola. I’m gonna eat you out, baby. I’m gonna lick you and fuck you with my fingers and make you scream, and I’m gonna do it until you come so hard so many times you’ll beg me to stop. I’m gonna teach you the meaning of multiple orgasms, Lola. And then—”

  He halted, then, because I’d taken him into my mouth and was stroking him at the root and bobbing my mouth up and down on his crown, licking the glans each time I went down, sucking as I moved up, and I was giving this to him hard and fast and without mercy.

  He throbbed between my lips, and I knew he was close, knew it from the way he gasped, from the way he couldn’t quite fully thrust, but was pulsing his hips in taut, tensing movements, from the way he tasted in my mouth, from the helpless grunts he was making.

  I paused just long enough to murmur around his cock, “What? What else?”

  “I’m gonna come, Lola. I’m gonna come so fucking hard—oh Jesus…”

  I asked it again. “What else will you do, Thresh?”

  As soon as I heard his voice, I gave him my mouth, gave him the stroke of my fists.

  “I’m gonna put my cock inside you.”

  “Gonna fuck me hard?” I couldn’t help asking. And god, did I want that too—in that moment, at least.

  “No.”

  I paused in surprise, shot him a shocked look. “No?”

  He wrapped my braid around his fist, but still didn’t try to push me onto his cock. He gave me a look so hungry, so fierce, and so intense I had to look away or risk being scorched to cinders from where I sat. “No. I’m gonna fuck you slow. So slow it’s not gonna be fucking.” At this, I couldn’t make him wait any longer. I wrapped my lips around him, stroked his length with one fist and cupped his balls with the other, massaging them I caressed his length and sucked and licked his crown. “Oh…oh—oh fuck, Lola, yes, yes, god yes, please don’t stop. I’ve never begged for anything in my life, but I’m begging now, baby, Lola—please don’t stop.”

  I hummed around him: mmmm-mmm, meaning no, I wasn’t going to stop.

  He kept talking; bless the beautiful giant with the perfect cock. “I’m gonna show you how it should feel to be worshipped, Lola, ’cause woman, you are a Polynesian goddess, and you deserve to be worshipped, and that’s what I’m gonna do, Lola, that’s what I’m—fuck, fuck, I’m right there, I’m so close.”

  Worshipped?

  Polynesian goddess?

  It was an effort to not cry.

  I wanted that, so fucking bad.

  I wanted to be worshipped.

  I wanted to be shown how that feels. More than I’d ever wanted anything in my life, I wanted that. And I wanted it from Thresh.

  I felt his fist jerk my braid twice, and I remembered that signal too.

  I hummed an affirmation around his cock—mmmmm-hmmm—but that turned into moans of pleasure, because god, yes, it did feel that good to have him lose it, to feel his loss of control, to know I could drive this man past his breaking point and take him into ecstasy, and god, yes, I did love the feel of his cock in my mouth sliding against my tongue and in and out of my fist.

  Now…

  It was time to taste him.

  I kept moaning, because I felt that good, and I knew he loved it when I moaned on him.

  And I kept sucking, stroking his enormous length, massaging his balls.

  “Oh—ohhhhhhhhh—fuck…” he gasped.

  Mmmmmmm….mmmmm…mmmmm, from me, high-pitched, each moan timed with the furious bobbing of my head and the stroke of my fist around his root, my bare tits draped against his thighs.

  I was fucking his cock with my mouth.

  When I felt him tense, then, I slowed. Switched from fucking his cock to making love to it. Slow, taking him to the back of my throat and then just kissing the tip, like I had before, sucking it and licking it and stroking him with both fists now, from top to bottom, chin to root, sucking—

  “Lola—”

  It’s all he said when he came.

  Salty, wet, hot, thick warmth splashing on my tongue—god, I loved his taste, that hint of sweetness, the musk. I swallowed it and kept sucking, kept caressing, fondling his cock with both hands, milking his orgasm from him, moaning until he spurted into my mouth again, and I swallowed that, and moaned and fondled and sucked and stroked him through a third spasm, and then I let him fall out of my mouth. I looked up at him. Loose, limp, his hand resting on my back, still panting.

  And his cock was still so hard I could climb on and ride him to orgasm—

  “Lola, holy shit, Lola.” He groaned this, helpless, breathless.

  He brought me up to his face by my braid, whispered against my lips. “Lola, that was—fuck, I don’t even know how to explain what that was.”

  “Good?” I breathed.

  Would he kiss me after he’d come in my mouth?

  “Honey, good isn’t the word.”

  I whispered back, my breath on his lips. “What is the word, then?”

  He did kiss me, slowly, deeply. Thoroughly. Plundering my mouth, showing me where his words failed. “Best. Ever.”

  “Best blowjob ever, huh?” I tried for casual, and failed.

  He pulled my face back so I was looking at him. “Lola. That was so much more than a blowjob. For you, and for me.” He wiped at my lips with his thumb. “So don’t pretend it wasn’t.”

  He was so right, and the fact that he could see and recognize the significance of what I was doing…that sent something hot and sharp twisting through my heart, something so potent it worried me, scared the fuck out of me.

  Because now, out of the moment, the heat having abated, I knew I’d have to tell him what had happened to me.

  I wanted more.

  I wanted what he’d promised me, that he’d worship me.

  Didn’t every girl want to be shown what it felt like to be worshipped?

  Goddammit, but I wanted that so fucking bad. After what had happened to me, what was done to me…I needed that. I needed that affirmation.

  I just wasn’t sure I could get through telling him about it without losing it.

  And I also knew I was probably going to have a major freak-out when he tried to get me naked, when we went to have actual sex. Touching him, kissing him, and sucking his gorgeous cock, those were all breakthro
ughs for sure, but the real emotional landmines were all buried around the act of sex. The intimacy. The trust. And how completely I’d had those ruined for me.

  I wasn’t sure I could go through with it, no matter how much I needed and wanted it.

  At least, not without having a serious panic attack before, possibly during, and definitely afterward.

  And Thresh deserved to know, deserved fair warning, if and when we ever got to that point.

  He rubbed his thumb across my lips, and his eyes were piercing, knowing. “I’m losing you, ain’t I? You’re falling into your own head.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, sort of.”

  “Care to share?”

  I shook my head, shrugged, but couldn’t manage either. “Just…there’s a lot.”

  “That you haven’t said.”

  “Right.”

  He nodded. “I get that. But, babe, don’t even think on it. We’ll cover it when the time comes.”

  I shook my head. “No, you don’t get it—you don’t get it. I’m going to freak out on you. If we ever get around to—all the things you promised you’d do to me, how you’d fuck me long and slow, that you’d worship me? There’s a lot of shit to get through between us and that point, Thresh.”

  He cupped my face in his palm, tilted me so I had to look at him, and fuck me if the expression on his face didn’t wreck me. “Maybe so, Doc. But I’ll take it all, every bit of it, if it means I get you at the end. ’Cause baby, you’re worth it.”

  I fell against his chest. “You did not just quote Fifth Harmony at me.”

  “Maybe I did. So what?” He chuckled. “Don’t mean it ain’t truth.”

  Well…shit.

  That plan to just enjoy what Thresh was offering in the moment?

  Shot all to fucking hell.

  9: INTO THE EVERGLADES

  She was quiet the rest of the way to our destination, which turned out to be a trailer park on the edges of somewhere called Plantation Island. It was a tiny oasis of civilization in the middle of the Ten Thousand Islands area of the Everglades, on the far southwestern edge of Florida. Mainly occupied by Everglades tour guides, it was…well, remote wasn’t quite the word, as Lola had pointed out earlier. A whole lot of not much—it occupied not even four hundred acres, and had a population of less than two hundred….

  Yeah, if you liked your space and privacy, this was where you went.

  And this was the starting point for getting to her dad?

  Yeesh. Hermits are weird, man. I mean, I like my space. I like a few miles between me and the next fella, but I also like to be able to pop into town and grab a Starbucks and a burger, or pop a squat in a dive bar and have a glass of bourbon with Duke, check out the selection of ladies. But out here? There wasn’t anything.

  And I hated it. Hated.

  Because it reminded me of how I grew up. Home for me had been a ramshackle, dilapidated single-wide in the middle of literal nowhere. Just plopped down in a little holler a good twenty miles from fuckin’ anything. Only reason we even had running water or electricity was because there happened to be a freight depot not too far from our trailer, so whoever had originally occupied the spot where we lived had somehow convinced the powers that be to run a line and some pipe to the holler. Hell if I know how, or why. I just know it was fuckin’ remote.

  I had a six-mile walk to the nearest bus stop, and another forty minutes one way on the bus to the school, and I considered that a blessing, because it got me out of the fuckin’ trailer and away from my old man. It meant being out from under his drunken stare, away from his swinging fist and boot. It meant I got fresh food in the afternoon, from people who seemed to give at least half a shit about me.

  I don’t mean Ma, when I say that. Ma cared, probably too much. She’d always try to step in between the old man and me, try to get his attention on herself, to spare me the beating, but once I was old enough to figure out the way of things—when I was four or so—I’d make sure he went after me. I couldn’t bear to see him take after her. She was a tiny little thing. Frail. Weak. But she was my angel, the only good thing in my life, the only reason I had for existing, so I had to protect her. Had to. Which meant I’d learned to take a vicious motherfuck of a beating without a peep by the time I was five or six. He broke my forearm with an empty whiskey bottle once, and I don’t think I even cried; I was barely seven.

  Lola shot me a few glances as we slowly meandered down the road onto Plantation Island. Finally, she spoke up. “You’re awful quiet all of a sudden, Thresh.”

  “This place reminds me of where I grew up, is all.”

  “The trailers?”

  I nodded. “That, and the remoteness of it. The silence. The emptiness.” I glanced out the window at the trailered boats and scrap heaps and makeshift porches. “Takes me back.”

  “And that’s not a good thing, is it?”

  “Not so much, no.”

  “Well, if all goes well, Uncle Filipo will have us in the water pretty fast, and we can get you out of here.”

  I didn’t say it, but I’d be grateful for that. My hands were getting twitchy, and that never boded well for anyone.

  Lola gestured at a trailer indistinguishable from any of the others. “Here.”

  I snorted when I saw the…watercraft, I guess you could sort of call it…on the front lawn. “Boat? Sweetheart, that’s a tin cup with a trolling motor attached to it.”

  She eyed me. “Ever been out there?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “One, there’s a no-wake law. Two, you can’t go fast anyway, or you’ll miss a turn, hit something, get snared, any number of things. Trust me, this is the best option.”

  I eyed the boat skeptically. “Will it hold me? I ain’t exactly dainty, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “If it can hold my dad, Filipo, and me, I’m sure it can manage you.”

  “And you know where we’re going?”

  She eyed the sky; it was early evening. “It’s gonna get dark soon and I, for sure, don’t fancy making the trip at night. Filipo could do it, and so could Dad, but if I’m navigating? We’d best get moving.”

  “That’s not exactly inspiring my confidence, Doc.”

  She just shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m what you got.”

  “Getting lost in the ’Glades isn’t going to help our case any, Lola.”

  A man appeared in the doorway of the trailer. Older, tall, obviously was once powerful, but age had stripped him of his muscle mass. Long hair pulled back in a ponytail, shading his eyes against the sun with one hand. The other hand clutched a sawed-off shotgun.

  “Who that out there?” he called out.

  Lola exited the Jeep, waving. “Hi, Uncle Filipo!”

  “Lola? What’chu doing out here? Talofa, baby girl, o a mai oe?”

  “I—” She halted, obviously struggling with what to say. “I need to see Dad.”

  “He been askin’ ’bout you. Been a while.”

  “I know, Uncle. I just…it’s been busy, you know?”

  Filipo shrugged. “Not so busy ’round here, baby girl.” He ducked, trying to see more of me. “Fancy new wheels, huh? Who that wit’ you?”

  She shot me a glance, jerked her head to indicate I should get out too. I shut off the engine, snagged my backpack, unfolded from the vehicle.

  Filipo’s eyes widened as I reached my full height. “O’ai oe?”

  Lola gestured for me to join her as she moved toward the house. “Uncle Filipo, this is my—this is Thresh.”

  Filipo didn’t move, didn’t relax, but he also didn’t level the scattergun at me. “What kinda name is that?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “The one I go by.”

  “Not what your mama gave you, though.” That didn’t seem to require a response, so I didn’t offer one. Filipo turned his attention back to Lola. “Tai don’t like strangers, baby girl. You know that. ’Specially not a big fuck-off alelo like that.”

  “No shit, Fili
po. Think I don’t know that? I wouldn’t have brought him this far if it wasn’t important.”

  Filipo considered. “You ain’t ever been valea, so I guess it’s all right. But you gotta come in and tell me what trouble you got into.” He stood in the doorway as Lola and I made our way inside, and I know the wary, sharp-eyed old man didn’t miss the knife on my belt, or the gun at my back.

  The inside of the trailer matched the outside. Cluttered, dirty, old. He’d been here a long-ass time, and didn’t give much of a shit about appearances. Beer bottles and soda cans were clustered on a coffee table, along with an overflowing ashtray, contractor bags full of more empty bottles, takeout containers, dishes, and more than anything else, fishing gear. Tackle boxes, lures, flies, rods, reels, and waders. If there was anything that helped catch fish, Filipo had several of them of varying ages and qualities.

  He cleared off the couch by sweeping his arm across it to knock the detritus to the floor, and then kicking it aside. Lola sat beside him, while I did my best to hunker near the door. The trailer was small enough that I barely cleared the ceiling if I stood upright, which only served to make me feel all the more conspicuous and claustrophobic. The smell of cigarettes and old booze, the fake panel walls, the threadbare couch, the shit everywhere, the oppressive heat and humidity…I was back in the trailer in Mississippi again. I hooked my thumb in my hip pocket and focused on keeping my breathing even.

  Filipo focused on Lola. “Why you here, Lola? Real talk.”

  “I’m just…there’s trouble. I need to get away for a while. I thought I could go in and see Dad for a few days.” She looked at me. “He’s helping me.”

  “Help you do what?”

  “Keep away from the trouble.”

  “What’s the trouble?”

  “Less you know, better for you,” I said.

  Sharp dark eyes fixed on me. “That kinda trouble, huh? So you’re runnin’ into the ’Glades to get away?”

  “I’m taking her in there, make sure she gets there, and then I’m gonna go handle things.”

  “Problem with that is you go in, you don’t come out unless you know the way.”

  I hadn’t considered that aspect.