by Kade, Teagan
She reaches between us, her hand sliding underneath the waistband of my jeans and finding me hard. “Help me forget then. Take me until I’m numb.”
*
Something stirs beside me. I smile knowing it’s Winter, half-naked but fully satisfied.
Last night was incredible. Yes, the sex was next level, orgasm after orgasm blending together in a never-ending night of mutual pleasure, but it was far more than physical. Last night we connected on a level I’ve never connected on with anyone before. We were completely in tune, body and soul, moving, thinking as one. If I was being protective of Winter before, I know now I’d do anything to protect her—even catch a bullet if it came down to it. She deserves more in life than the shitty hand she’s been given.
You think she deserves you? says my inner voice. What can you offer her?
I shut that self-critic shit down real fast. I learnt a long time ago it doesn’t do you any good. That talk’s poison, liable to get you up from the inside-out.
“Mmmm,” Winter purrs, nuzzling into my shoulder. Her bare legs are tangled in mine, the heat of her sex pressed against my upper thigh. Suffice to say, it’s a welcome start to the morning.
I glance at the clock next to the bed. “We should really get up. I’ve got to be down on the sand in an hour.”
“For the big volleyball match?” she asks, one of her cheeks rosier than the other where it’s been against my chest.
A single shard of sunlight has found its way across the bed, halving her face and turning one of her eyes opalescent.
I smile back. “Like I said, it’s a real big deal. For charity yadda-yadda, but I think everyone knows the real reason is seeing a bunch guys getting sweaty with their shirts off.”
She laughs. It’s lighter than usual, unburdened. She taps against my chest with a closed fist like she’s knocking on a door. “You’re talking about this? People come from far and wide to see this?”
I block her hand with my mine, locking fingers. “Yes, as a matter of fact. This chest right here is the real moneymaker around these parts. Besides, I didn’t exactly hear you complaining last night? In fact, I’m surprised I can hear anything at all the way you were, you know…”
Her smile grows. “I was a bit loud, wasn’t I?”
“Not at all. I only think they heard you in Fort Lauderdale. No biggie.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’m your asshole.”
She throws her head back. “Maybe not the most romantic line I’ve heard.”
I shift sideways so she can feel my hardness, let it slowly grind against her skin. “Who needs lines when you’ve got this?”
“Careful,” she replies, reaching down to take hold of my cock, “you still need energy for today, remember?”
“Baby,” I tell her, “I’m the god-damn Energizer bunny.”
*
As usual, Main Beach is insane today. After this morning’s frivolities, we make it with less than five minutes to spare at the red-and-yellow tower colloquially known as the Ronald McDonald House. The court’s already been set up in the sand, a makeshift stage to the left with a DJ and live music, trophies ready to go for the winners, read: us. We haven’t lost a game in ten years, even if the local firefighters are a bunch of injectable gym junkies. The cops aren’t much competition. They’re just here for the free food.
I enter the tower first, finding Robbie standing there with his shirt off, a bottle of olive oil in one hand and cling wrap in the other. He appears to be applying it to his chest. I have no fucking idea what the cling wrap is for, and don’t really want to find out. “You looking to slide out of here like a seal, do some tricks for the crowd?” I suggest.
He turns about with that shit-eating grin I know all too well, Ray Bans in place. “Bro, I’ve got to look good for my fans out there.”
“Bro,” I laugh back, “you’re going to cook like a Sunday roast with all that oil.”
He spots Winter hiding behind me. “Hello there.”
I step aside, but her body language is still ten kinds of cautious. “This is Winter,” I tell Robbie.
He looks at me with an eyebrow raised saying ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’
I throw him a double-brow raise that replies, ‘You don’t need to know everything, dickhead.’
“Hi,” squeaks Winter meekly.
Robbie points between us. “You two are…?”
I pull Winter into my side. “Seeing each other, yeah, so paws off, big boy.”
He puts up his hands. “Hey, hey now, like I said, I’ve got plenty of fans out there. Swipe left. Swipe right. I can have my pick, baby.”
“You see what I have to deal with?” I tell Winter, which elicits a small smile.
Robbie’s right, though. These comps always deliver. I usually come home with enough numbers to fill a phonebook.
Not today, I think. They’re all yours, Robbie.
Amy enters the tower in a red one-piece looking every bit a younger Pam Anderson, but I only have eyes for Winter today.
The horn blows outside, signaling the first match is about to begin.
Robbie pushes me towards the door, smiling at Winter. “Nice to meet you, Winter, but your boy’s got business on the sand.”
I look at Amy, knowing the girls’ team won’t be playing for another few hours. “Amy, do you mind looking after Winter here, keep her at the tower?”
Amy shrugs. “Sure thing,” smiling at Winter with a wink. “Best seat in the house.”
I place my hands together. “I owe you.” I kiss Winter on the cheek as I pass. “I’ll be playing right outside. Anything you need, just ask Amy, okay?”
Winter attempts a smile. “Okay.”
Robbie and I hit the sand. It’s hot enough to peel skin off, but years of running around on it have turned my feet to Teflon. I look back to see Amy leading Winter out to the balcony on the front of the tower overlooking the makeshift volleyball court.
Robbie places his arm around my shoulder as he walk onto the court to join the others.
“Jesus,” I tell him, “you’re like a super-slippery Dwayne Johnson, and I’m talking the WWF years.”
Robbie laughs aloud, smiling and waving at the crowd. His bicep flexes against my shoulder. “You didn’t tell me anything about this mystery girl? Keeping her under wraps, huh, you dog?”
I slip, literally, out of his grip and take up my position as center, clapping my thighs and jumping on the spot to warm up. “She’s a special lady.”
“Yeah, right,” he bellows. “What’s the longest relationship you’ve been in, since I’ve known you? That girl, the one with the braces, the weird inverted nipples?”
“Brenda,” I confirm.
“She was two days, or was it three? A Benjamin says your Winter’s on her way back to her ice castle come tomorrow morning.”
I wave it off. “No, she’s different.”
Robbie cups his ear. “Excuse me. I didn’t quite catch that.”
“You heard me fucking fine, and she’s staying. I’m looking after her.”
He reaches down and grabs his dick, a cheer going up from a group of college girls to the left. “Looking after her with that shiny schlong of yours, I bet.”
“Beats your car crash of a cock.”
He blows me a kiss. “You fucking love it.”
The firefighters enter the court on the other side of the net in matching red speedos, flexing like it’s Mr. Universe. The crowd goes wild.
I stretch out as best I can.
“What’s the matter?” asks Robbie. “Long night?”
“Something like that,” I smile back, looking back to the tower and seeing Winter wave. I wave back wondering how I got so damn lucky. I know she’s what I’ve been searching for. Now I’ve just got to keep her close, keep her safe until I can untangle the mess she’s wrapped up in.
“You know they’re making a Top Gun 2, right?” says Robbie, flexing one bicep and then the other like the af
orementioned Mr. Johnson.
“Really?” I reply. “Tom’s got to be, what, sixty?”
“Fucking Maverick hasn’t aged a day in thirty years. Real time-travel shit.”
The second siren goes off signaling the start of the match. I squat down, placing my hands together, glancing over at Robbie. “You ready for this then, Maverick?”
He smiles back, teeth blinding in the sun. “Bring it on, Iceman.”
It’s easy pickings. The firefighters put on a show, but they ain’t got game. The cops don’t fare much better.
This year is different in one way, though. I struggle to divide my attention between the game and the tower where Winter stands watching on. I look back one time to see her gone, see her emerge again with a water in hand, Amy pointing at the ball flying for my head. I barely managed to dig it back into play.
I meet Winter at the tower after the second game.
“I’ll leave you to it,” says Amy, giving me a sly wink as she disappears into the tower.
I lean over the railing.
“You’re sweating,” Winter notes.
I look down to the side of the court where Robbie’s busy mingling with the crowd… or every attractive, single girl in a two block radius rather. “At least I’m not a human oil spill.”
“He seems nice, your friend.”
I nod, squinting against the sun even though I’ve got my sunglasses on. “We’re tight here. A family.”
“It must be nice,” she says, sadness returning to her eyes.
I reach up to her face. “Don’t worry about your father. We’ll sort it out. I promise.”
“How can you promise that?” she says. “The cartel… You don’t know what they’re like.”
I’ve had a couple of run-ins with drug runners, mules… Desperate people doing desperate things, but she’s right in one way. Direct contact with the cartel? No, even if I have seen their handiwork first hand. Still, the bigger players tend to keep a lower profile on local soil, preferring to work remotely.
“As I said,” I tell her, “you have my word.”
The siren goes again. “I’ve got one more game, sorry. After that, I’m yours—sweat and all.”
She smiles. “Who’s left?”
I look down at the court. “Paramedics, but don’t be fooled by their scrawny appearance. These guys can actually play.”
She leans forward to kiss me, her lower lip sticking to mine in the heat as she pulls away. “Better put on your game face then.”
I bring my hand down over my face, changing my expression to a serious scowl.
“Archer!” Robbie shouts from the court. “Get your ass down here.”
I jump off the railing back down to the sand. “Wish me luck.”
“Luck!” Winter shouts.
The last match is tighter than the rest, but we still manage to pull ahead, the poor paramedics forced to concede.
I whoop and holler with Robbie, the crowd in a frenzy by now. He’s busy lapping it up, climbs the umpire’s chair to beat his chest and throw water over the crowd.
I decide to leave him to it, turning around to find Winter but spotting something in the crowd to the right. It’s quick, fleeting, a blur of black, but I have an instinct for these things, know trouble when I see it. But just like that the mystery person I think I saw, the man in black, is gone, blended back into the crowd.
I dismiss it and climb back up to the tower, taking hold of Winter and spinning her around. The crowd below us gives a small cheer.
“Well done,” she says, unable to keep the happiness from her face.
I lead her into the tower. “Come.”
There’s another female lifeguard inside. She tosses me a water. “Quite a show.”
I twist off the top and drink the entire bottle in seconds, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thanks,” I reply, dropping the empty bottle into the bin and taking hold of Winter again, leaning her over the small table we keep up here. No one seems to be taking notice, and I wouldn’t care if they were.
“How should we celebrate?” she asks.
I’m about to reply when someone taps me on the shoulder.
I turn around to find a grinning Robbie standing there. I’m about to tell him to fuck off when he holds up a set of keys. “You might be needing these.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WINTER
It’s close to midnight. Outside, the beach is a dark teal, little moon to provide illumination bar a light shimmer across the surface of the ocean. The sound of the waves is only muffled by the windows of the tower—a living, breathing energy.
At first I didn’t know why Robbie was giving Archer the keys to the lifeguard tower, but now it all makes sense, as does our shopping excursion to Agent Provocateur following the tournament.
I’ve never worn lingerie before, but feeling the silk against my skin, the delicate fabric sitting against my most intimate area, I’m starting to understand the appeal. Archer was like a kid in a candy store. I had to stop him before he spent his life savings buying everything in the place. We almost did it right there in the changing room, but Archer assured me this would be worth the wait.
I didn’t think about the cartel, about my precarious position here at all during the day, too caught up in the excitement, of being with Archer, to care.
The view is impressive, I think, my thoughts not lingering on the ocean, but the incredible specimen of a man before me.
I seat myself on the desk near the front windows.
Archer closes the door and stops there, watching.
“Aren’t you going to lock it?” I suggest.
He starts to walk forward. “And where would be the fun in that be? Why do you think I wanted you here, at my place of work, so to speak, taking you here so I can think about it every day, think about how you sound when you come over and over and over again.”
My greater concern is someone seeing us from the beach, but I remind myself it’s darker in here than it is out there. No one will be able to see in even if it’s like looking out of a fishbowl inside.
He stops before me. “Why don’t you spread your legs for me?”
A hot blush runs up my spine, moving into my shoulders and neck. Slowly, I spread my legs. Given the obvious and growing bulge in his pants, it looks like he’s enjoying it.
His eyes light with the hint of a smile. “Good girl.”
Just having him watch me is such a turn-on.
He dips his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say those new panties of yours are already wet. Have you been touching yourself?”
My cheeks burn with shame even though I’ve done nothing. I play along regardless, reaching down with a tentative finger and hooking the crotch of my panties, pulling them to the side and allowing a second finger to roam across the swollen bud of my clit above. It’s not long before my breathing’s short and fast, each breath rushing in and out of my fast burning body.
Watching, Archer slides a hand down the front of his trousers. I can see it working below the fabric. Seeing him touch himself only sends fresh sensation to my core.
“Slide a finger inside yourself,” he says, eyes glued to the dark space between my legs.
I nod and press my longest finger inside myself as deep as it will go, right to the second knuckle. He’s right. I’m wet, my hot sex begging for the kind of attention I know only Archer can provide.
“Yes. Beautiful.”
I stare at him across the space of the tower through half-lidded eyes.
With his free hand he reaches down and unzips his trousers, pulling his cock through and continuing to stroke it before me. He concentrates on the head of it, balling his fingers before stroking back down over the shaft. “Are you thinking about my cock right now, how it would feel inside you, filling you up?”
“Yes,” I murmur, drawing my finger out of my center to concentrate on my clit, rubbing it while I keep my eyes fixed on his hand and swollen cock.
We start to match
rhythm, our hands moving in time to one another, our breathing rushing in and out in tight syncopation.
I think of hot summer nights spent back home beneath the sheets, my hand working against myself. I never came, though. I didn’t have someone in mind when I masturbated back then , but I sure do now.
My mouth hangs open, my sex slick and wet.
“You’re making me so fucking hot,” he says, voice clipping, the wet sounds we’re making filling the small room and only seeming to turn him on more.
He pulls lightly on his scrotum, his eyes never leaving mine, that intangible connection between us remaining unbroken as I begin to lift towards orgasm.
I’m panting, barely able to get in enough air. I know I’m close to release, but deeper still I’m quietly hoping he’ll let go of his cock and come to me, press it into my body. I don’t just want to come. I want him to feel me come, to feel my pussy grip and squeeze his cock. The thought almost sends me over the edge.
I concentrate on my clit, the sensation fast becoming overwhelming. I bite down on my lower lip to stave it off, to contain the sounds I want to scream out aloud.
I’m so close.
He loosens his top button, his pants falling to the floor in a puddle. He steps out of them, walking towards me still pumping away at his cock. His eyes are hot, full of desire.
I bite the inside of my cheek, anything to hold my climax back a little bit longer.
When he’s a foot away he reaches for a manual of some sort on the desk beside me, smacking it lightly on the desk.
Thwack.
The front of the manual is laminated plastic, spiral bound. I begin to realize what he’s planning.
His stare is hard and unmoving. The manual meets his palm again and I flinch at the noise, struggling to contain the building excitement at what I know is inevitable.
“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?”
I shake my head slowly, playing along. “Yes, sir.”
He waves the manual in the air, testing it. “Do you think you need to be punished?”
“Yes,” spills from my lips.
“Turn around. Put your hands on the desk.” His tone is stern and firm, far from the Archer I’m used to.