by Kade, Teagan
“I think this is the best sandwich I’ve had in my life,” I tell Archer, talking with my mouth full, two hands wrapped around the sandwich in question.
He finished his a full five minutes ago; took him all of two bites. “It’s a bit of Miami tradition, this place. There are sub places all around here now, but the difference here is the quality of the ingredients, plus they’re open super late. Trust me, there’s nothing to cure a hangover quite like a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup, chaser Cuban sandwich with pulled pork, swiss cheese, pickles…” He licks his lips. “God damn it I’m getting hungry again.”
I work my knee between his legs. “You know your ‘Cuban’ sandwich isn’t actually Cuban, right? I don’t know where you Americans come up with these things. That said, I’m kind of hungry too, though it’s not a sandwich I’m after.”
“More like a foot-long then?”
“You wish, buddy.”
He shifts himself a bit closer, the bulge of his cock pressing up against my knee. “You didn’t seem to be complaining earlier.”
I put my sandwich down, meeting his eyes. “I will admit you have certain… skills in the bedroom.”
“Baby,” he laughs, “I wrote the book on sex, and trust me, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. You must have some fantasies. Some kinky thing you’ve been wanting to try all these years now you’ve lost your… you know.”
I play coy. “No, I don’t. And what is it I’ve lost now?”
He just smiles on back, holding up his hand. “There’s a whole chapter dedicated to my pinky finger alone.”
“You’re going to play ‘This Little Piggy Went to Market’ with me?”
He sits back. “Well, I’ve never heard it quite called that before, but sure.”
I laugh back, surprised at how easy-going we’ve become around each other. “Shouldn’t I meet your parents first?”
Archer sips from his cola. “They’re down in the Keys living large. They retired maybe five, six years ago now, got a tiny place down there you can barely swing a cat in, but they’re happy, you know. The water is a short walk, there’s this trendy vegan café on the corner Dad goes nuts for… They’re happy.”
“You sound like you have a lot of respect for them.”
The sun’s getting lower, Archer’s face becoming more golden by the minute. “I do. They’re hard-working people who have devoted their lives to others. Dad was in the Army too, Mom worked in a retirement home for thirty years. I guess I saw all that and wanted to give back in my own way, you know? I want to leave the world a better place than when I found it. I want to make a mark, even if it’s one life saved, one tragedy prevented. You can’t save everyone, I know, but I can sure as hell try.”
“How many people do you think you’ve saved?”
“As a lifeguard? I used to keep count. I think everyone does when they start out, but after a while the number doesn’t really matter. The cards of thanks you get do, seeing someone you’ve saved come back three, four years later, some pregnant or with a new partner. Those are the small details I love, where you can see the impact you’ve had, can actually see the tangible result of your actions.”
“I’m a lucky girl.”
He leans forward and bumps into me with his shoulder. “Because you fell for a schmuck like me? You could have had your pick of Miami sugar daddies.”
I shrug. “But I’ve got you, haven’t I? And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
He leans forward to kiss me, the sugary aftertaste of cola still on his lips, his tongue. I melt into it, allow myself to fall slowly forward until I almost send us both skittering over.
I straighten, laughing, hooking my hair over my ear.
He stands, helping me up. “Come on. Let’s get back to the apartment and start working our way through the Kama Sutra.”
“The what?” I ask, knowing full well what it is.
He gives me a playful slap on the butt as we walk back towards the truck. “Why, my very favorite picture book.”
“Oh, so it’s not The Little Engine That Could?” I tease.
He pinches my left ass cheek. “There’s nothing little about my engine, baby.”
The drive back, the sun setting, is almost a spiritual experience. I never thought I’d be here, in America—illegally, yes, but I am here. Cuba’s known for being bold and bright, but everything here in Miami seems turned up to eleven. It’s the excess, I realize, the money, that unusual contrast between the old and new, the kitsch and avant-garde.
And I freaking love it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ARCHER
Owing to a street carnival, the road is blocked ahead. I decide to park the truck and walk us the couple of blocks back the apartment. It’s such a beautiful night out anyhow it seems a shame to waste it driving.
Winter’s happy for the exercise, seems wrapped up in the carnival.
“What’s it living in Cuba like, permanently?” I ask, curious to relate it to my own experience there.
“Is that a serious question?”
“It is.”
She brings a finger to her lips. “Hmm, well, I guess you could say it’s like living in a kind of musical nirvana.”
“How so?” I press.
“There’s always music playing wherever you go. People don’t care if it’s loud or boisterous. They dance and sing and move, all ages… In Cuba you can dance anywhere and everywhere, any hour of the day. It’s beautiful. What’s more, you’re never ridiculed if you’re not a good dancer. Even if you’re the world’s worst dancer, but you try all the same, people will embrace you, hug and kiss you. Basically, go crazy.”
“So, what you’re saying is I’d get a lot of hugs and kisses if I started dancing in the street in Cuba?”
She bumps into me, looking up into my eyes. “Cubans love to see yumas dancing.”
“Yumas?”
“Foreigners.”
“You don’t think I could pass for a local?”
She kind of pouts and bites her lips in a quizzical way that’s adorable. “Ah, no.”
“So it’s just the music you like?”
“No, it’s the entire lifestyle there. For example, there are no big billboard ads or magazines trying to push a certain type of beauty, this product to cure that or make you look better. No, I tell you, every woman in Cuba loves their body. It doesn’t matter their age or shape, they’re proud of who they are. That is a beautiful thing.”
“You are a beautiful thing.”
“Will you take me back there one day?”
“To Cuba?”
We stop to cross the road, a cavalcade of costumed performers streaming past. “I don’t think I can. I’m too scared of the consequences. I couldn’t risk it.”
My cell starts to buzz in my pocket.
I signal Winter to give me a second, stepping into the shadow of a nearby building where I’m sure she won’t be able to hear. I bring my phone to my ear and cover the other with my free hand to block out some of the noise of the parade. “Liam,” I answer, “long time no speak.”
I can picture him smiling on the other end of the line. It sounds like he’s at work, the general cacophony that is the central Miami cop shop. “It was great to catch up the other night, brother.”
“It was. Just like old times.”
“Only without me having to be wheeled out of there with my pants full of piss and my head full of nails.”
“Almost like old times,” I correct.
“You got your phone?”
“I did, thanks.”
“Look,” he says, “I was thinking about what you were saying the other night, about that girl, was it? The one you found on the beach?”
I look over at Winter, give her a small wave. “Sure, sure. What about her?”
“We’ve known each other a long time, right? I can tell when something’s up.”
I’m not too sure what he’s getting at here.
“What I’m saying,” he continues, “is that I’d like to help. When I showed up at the apartment, she seemed… I don’t know… scared or something. It is the same girl, right?”
I don’t know where he’s going with this. “She’s fine. Really, but thanks for your concern.”
“I saw something on her shoulder, the other night—kind of like a weird tattoo or something. You know anything about that?”
Liam’s not a stupid guy. He’s probably seen the brand on Winter’s shoulder and made the connection to the cartel, which might make things a whole lot more complex. I know I can count on him to be discreet, and yeah, he probably could help, but Winter said she didn’t want any police involvement. I have to respect that.
“Can’t say I’ve really asked her about it,” I lie.
“You down on the strip?” he asks, breaking the silence that follows.
I look around, my fingers raking through my hair. “Ah, yeah. Just swung by La Sandwicherie, about to head back to my place.”
“Cool, cool,” he says. “Well, I just thought I’d call anyhow, let you know I’m here.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell him, “and if I do need anything, I’ll call, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What about you?” I ask, swinging the conversation around. “Working late?”
“I could work twenty-four hours a day and not put a dent in the bills I’ve got stacked up. Damn debtors got me by the balls.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s my own stupid fucking fault. You go on, have yourself a good time with your mystery mermaid there.”
“I will,” I laugh, “and don’t you go working too hard.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
We sign off and I hang up, sliding the cell back into my trouser pocket and walking back towards Winter, silhouetted by the low-hanging sun.
“Who was that?” she asks.
“An old Army friend,” I reply, which isn’t technically a lie.
“You seem to have a lot of old Army friends.”
I take her hand and we start walking. “What can I say? I’m a likable guy.”
She puts her hand on my chest. “Stop it.”
“Being likable? Shit, I don’t know. It’s kind of my thing,” I smile.
We arrive at the apartment building and enter through the rear because the crowd’s so thick out front. I don’t even know what the parade’s for, but that’s the thing about living here in Miami—it’s a party a minute and you rarely know why.
Once we’re inside, I direct Winter into a small alcove under the main stairs that used to be where a payphone was located but is now a quiet nook with an ugly patch on the wall where the phone used to be.
I press Winter up against the wall and bring my lips to her neck, her arms wrapped around me. “Archer…”
“I don’t know if I can make it up the stairs you’re making me so god damn hot.”
Her words are spoken directly into my ear. “You want to have me here, don’t you?”
“You’re reading my mind.”
I run a hand down her side and lift her thigh, my fingers walking towards the heat of her sex.
My cock’s a fucking rod of steel in my pants. A little more pressure and I’m pretty sure they’re going to split.
I slowly pull the crotch of her panties away and move a testing finger towards her pussy, not surprised to find it wet, but this wet? It’s a god damn pool party down here.
“Fuck me you’re wet,” I announce.
She reaches down, rubbing my cock through my pants. “And you’re hard. Isn’t that how this works?”
I tilt my hand and the finger in question is basically sucked into her body, gliding easily to the second knuckle in her heat and wetness. It’s exquisite inside her.
I start to move it in and out, lightly pushing her up against the wall, letting the bulge of my cock press against her clit. It doesn’t matter there are layers of fabric between us, that it’s not skin on skin. The sheer friction alone sends a flush of rosy red to her cheeks, her head angling back against the wall.
I bury my nose in her hair, breathing her in, the night air mixing with the sounds of the parade outside and the whole thing a heady mess of sexuality.
I can’t believe how quickly this has escalated. I press my hard body against her, add a second finger to join the first and slowly fill her out. My free hand moves over a breast, a nipple, firm, under my hand.
I know need’s building in her core, her pussy, the way it grows wetter and hotter around my joined fingers. I continue to work them in and out, watching her with eyes the color of an upturned iceberg, watching the way she succumbs to me body and soul, the tether growing shorter and shorter.
The idea of making her come in here, in such a public space, is beyond hot.
I withdraw my fingers, the crotch of her panties coming back into place. I run the two digits into my mouth still hot with her desire, take my time tasting them in front of her and watching the way she melts in return with both shock and delight.
“That’s… hot,” she moans, struggling to get the words out properly.
I groan back as she uses the butt of her hand to press against the glans of my cock. “You want to be inside me, don’t you? Inside my warm, wet little pussy.”
“You’re getting awfully good at this dirty talk thing, you know.”
She strokes downwards to my balls. “I guess you could say I’m being taught by the best.”
“And I’ve got a lot more to teach yet.”
“Like what?”
“Like the insane pleasure taking your ass is going to provide.”
“My ass?” she laughs. “I don’t think you’d fit.”
“We’ll see about that.”
If I don’t watch out all this talk’s going to make me come before I even get my cock out of my pants, but that’s the effect Winter has on me. A single word, a simple gesture, and I’m fucking putty in her hands. It’s oddly freeing, in a way.
I’m about to take out my cock, to slide it in when I hear the rear door click open and someone enter with what sounds like grocery bags.
“Wait here,” I mouth, stepping out just as one of the guys from the lower levels enters.
“Oh, hi,” he says, wrestling with his grocery bags.
“How you doing?” he asks.
“Good, man. Good.”
He gives me a smile and shifts past me, completely oblivious to Winter still with her back against the wall in the nook.
I consider finishing the job, but it’s peak hour at the apartment block, people constantly coming in and out. I don’t think one of my fellow residents finding me engaged in hot, sloppy coitus will go down too well with the building owners.
I reach out for Winter’s hand. “Come on,” I say. “We’ll finish this upstairs.”
“Only if I get to come first,” she says, peeling herself from the wall and flattening her skirt down.
I growl as she comes out into the hallway, leaning forward to kiss her, to taste that sweet mouth I’ve been craving all damn day. “As you wish.”
Giggling like a couple of teenagers, we head up the stairs.
On our way up, a door to our left swings open, a woman in her eighties poking her cotton wool head out. “You having a party or something up there, Archie?”
I stop, can’t be bothered correcting her. “Mrs. McKinsley, how are you?”
“Sounds like you’ve got a pack of elephants stomping around. You know the rules about parties and gatherings. Anything like that must…”
“…be approved by management,” I finish. “I know the rules, Mrs. McKinsley. Are you sure it wasn’t the parade outside?”
“Is the parade happening on the floor above me, wise-ass? No, it’s damn well not.”
“Alright, Mrs. McKinsley.”
She gives a sharp ‘hmpf’. “Well, keep it the hell down, will you? Some of us are trying to watch Jeopardy, you know.”
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. McKinsley,” I salute, though it’s to a closed door.
“Neighbors,” I shrug to Winter, who laughs beside me.
“She didn’t seem very friendly.”
“After the racket we’ve been making, do you blame her?”
But as I think on it, I’m pretty sure that’s not what Mrs. McKinsley is talking about. I’ve had girls up in the apartment who could shatter glass they were screaming so hard, girls you’d think I was murdering with my cock up there, but no one’s ever complained, least of all Mrs. McKinsley with her hearing aids all amped up.
It’s curious, is what it is.
“Everything alright?” asks Winter, sensing the shift in my demeanor.
“I’m not sure,” I reply cryptically.
I get a strange feeling as we ascend the stairs leading to my apartment. It deepens when we reach the hall and I see the front door’s open.
Fuck me.
I push Winter around my waist. “Stay behind me, okay?” I tell her.
Her eyes are wide and I know what she’s thinking, but I’ve got to be sure and I don’t want her downstairs or out in the open.
I move slowly past the threshold, listening for anything in the apartment, but it appears quiet.
I wait and move inside, and that’s when I know we’re in deep, deep fucking shit.
“Oh, my god,” says Winter, moving out from behind me.
The entire apartment has been trashed. Every print and painting on the wall has been ripped down and torn apart. Even the carpet’s been shredded and lifted up. The kitchen cupboards are open, plates and saucers forming a demolition pile of porcelain on the floor.
Now I realize what Mrs. McKinsley was talking about.
I fight down the shock and move carefully to the bedrooms and bathroom, but they’ve suffered the same fate.
I stop and allow myself to think, Winter still standing in the middle of the lounge with her hands on her head.
So the cartel knows she’s here. They came looking for her. That’s clear. When they couldn’t find her they tossed the place, but looking for what? Or maybe they weren’t looking at all. Maybe they were just pissed off.
I know one thing is certain: They’ll be back.
“It’s not safe here anymore,” I tell Winter, trying to be as direct and honest with her as possible, trying my hardest not to freak her out.