The Lifeguard

by Kade, Teagan

There’s hesitation, but a quick nod from the Pretty Boy sends everyone scooting back.

  “Back!” I yell at the top of my lungs, shaking the grenade for effect. “I will fucking do it. Do NOT test me.”

  I start to back out towards the door. I’m sweating up a storm, that adrenaline I’d been trying so hard to suppress flowing thick and fast now.

  I walk back but they are still too close. “Back!” I yell, waving the grenade around and trying to look as crazy possible. “You want to redecorate this place with your fucking brains? Do it. Please. My fingers are getting itchy. I’m dying to let go.”

  “Easy, easy,” Pretty Boy warns, slowly trying to walk towards me but as yet no one’s tried to wrestle the grenade away from me. For good reason, too. No one wants their arm blown off tonight.

  I manage to make it outside, the whole bar gathered in front of me as I walk across the road to my truck.

  A car comes screeching to a halt in front of me, the horn blasting, but no one pays it any attention.

  I open the door of the truck with one hand and slide myself in, still holding the grenade out the window as I close the door. Meanwhile, they continue to stand there as a silent mob, the Thriller music video come to life.

  Even when I hit the gas and drive off, they’re still there watching me—calm, quiet, cold.

  *

  As soon as I’m sure I’m not being tailed, after I’ve burned through half a tank going pedal to metal back towards Robbie’s, I toss the grenade into the glovebox. It was a souvenir from my time serving abroad, nothing but a replica, but it did the trick.

  Even when I reach Robbie’s, I loop around the block looking out for tails, any suspicious cars. It’s quiet for two in the morning, making the task a little easier, but I’m still cautious.

  I park a good three blocks away and walk, knowing I can’t return to the truck now they’ve got a fix on it.

  In a strange switch of direction, Robbie opens the door and welcomes me in to what looks like a sleepover. He’s in his pajamas, there’s popcorn and candy on the table, some sappy movie playing on TV.

  “Can you believe she’s never seen When Harry Met Sally?” He sees my haggard expression. “Fuck. What happened?”

  “They didn’t go for it.”

  Winter hears my voice, getting up from the sofa and running into my arms. “Are you okay?” she asks breathlessly.

  I nod. “I am now, but it didn’t, ah, go so well.”

  “What do we do?” she asks, and I sure as hell wish I had a better plan.

  “We have to go to my friend,” I tell her. “We have to go to the cops. It’s the only move.”

  She’s shaking her head, pulling away. “No, no, no.”

  “Yes,” I say firmer. “Liam can protect us. I can trust him. We don’t have any other option. They’ll find us.”

  I expect more defiance, more fight, but I can see the toll all this running around has taken on her. “Alright,” she says weakly, “if you think it’s best.”

  “I do. We’ll go first thing tomorrow. For now, I think we both need rest.”

  “I’ve already set up a bed down back,” chimes in Robbie. “Will that do?”

  I clap him on the shoulder. “My friend, I’m so tired I’d sleep on a concrete slab.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  WINTER

  Once the door to the bedroom is closed, I take Archer by the shoulders. “What did you try and do?”

  “Something very, very stupid,” he confesses.

  I reach up to kiss him. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

  “How was Robbie?”

  “We were having a nice time.”

  “Reenacting the Breakfast Club?”

  “He’s quite in touch with his feminine side, actually.”

  Archer’s eyebrow lifts in surprise. “Who would have thought?”

  He kisses me again, his hand searching down my side.

  I hold him away, very conscious of my own, growing desire. “I thought you said you were tired.”

  He holds me away to look at me. “I’m never too tired for you.” He kisses me on the lips—oddly, a hint of whiskey there. “Do you know how absolutely fucking perfect you are?”

  My cheeks flush hot.

  Archer starts walking forward, forcing me towards the bed. I hit the end of it and fall back, but he manages to take me by the thighs before I reach the bed and toss me onto my back. He steps between my thighs at the edge of the bed and pushes them apart with his knee.

  I look into his eyes and see a hunger there that’s new, like he simply can’t wait to devour me whole.

  I want to say something, but I can’t find my voice, too lost in the heat and moment.

  When I do find it, it’s coarse and rough. “Won’t Robbie hear us?”

  Archer laughs. “Robbie’s heard worse. Now, strip.”

  With shaking fingers, I stand and do as he commands, watching while he slowly strips himself until we’re standing there completely naked in front of one another, exposed.

  Without warning he grips my hips and pulls me against his hard body, driving us back into the bed.

  I swallow, even that simple action almost too much to bear.

  “Tell me you want me,” he says, his voice surprisingly calculated.

  “I want you,” I reply, my voice weak.

  “Where?” he asks, looking to the hot space between my legs. “Where do you want me? Say it.”

  I swallow again. “My pussy,” I stammer. “I want you in my pussy.”

  “That’s fucking right you do.”

  And I do. I want him to kiss me, touch me, fuck me into oblivion so I never have to think again. I want him to love me harder than anything he’s known before.

  Light flashes through the window behind the bed, enough so I can see the urgent hunger in his eyes, the way they glint in the light like precious gems, so striking, so beautiful.

  His grip firms on my hips. “I’m going to take you now, as hard as I want, and you’re going to come, harder than you ever have before. Yes?”

  “Yes,” I reply, but it’s barely audible.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes… please.”

  He doesn’t waste a second more. He covers my mouth with his own, the kiss rough and fast. We break and he draws my lower lip into his mouth, releasing it and pulling away, making me work for each and every kiss, breaking away again to trail them down my neck.

  I kiss the top of his head, breathing against his scalp as he takes my nipple into his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around the sensitive pillar of it until my spine snaps forward, pleasure licking at my body from bottom to top, a constant, never-ending swirl of sensation.

  “Yes,” I moan. “God.”

  But even a higher power can’t save me from Archer’s tongue. It moves from my right nipple to my left, latching there, tending my need until I’m a senseless, panting muddle.

  “I need you,” I tell him, growing more confident, my thighs spreading further and my sex open and wet.

  “And I’ll tend to your needs,” he tells me firmly, “but we’re doing this by my rules tonight, my way.”

  He kisses down my chest, hands sliding up to cup my breasts. He pinches my nipples, twisting them lightly until the mix of pain and pleasure threatens to tear me limb from limb.

  “Please,” I beg, “I can’t take it.”

  “You will,” he purrs. “You will and you will enjoy every fucking second of it.”

  Lord help me.

  He rises, using his large hands to push my knees apart until they can’t go any further. He kneels, almost solemnly, and starts by pressing his lips against the soft, puppy flesh of my inner thigh, slowly working his way inwards.

  The way he kisses me, the way his tongue moves… It’s incredible. He is incredible. I try to focus on what he’s doing, to compartmentalize and capture the moment, but it’s all happening too fast, the flood of sensation too much to pin down.

  His hands slide up and do
wn my thighs, warming them, squeezing them tight. I clench with anticipation, my breathing raspy and dry. I’m bucking from the mattress, levitating until a firm hand presses me back down, Archer’s lips inches from the wet mouth of my sex.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I nod, drawing in a sharp intake of breath when I feel Archer’s tongue sweep over my sensitive folds, the tip of it hunting for the tight confines of my hole.

  I reach out and grip the sheets, pulling them tight as he hums against me, licking from tip to tail but never moving inwards. He circles, teases, nips… always moving, avoiding my clit until I’m begging him, body and mind, to apply his tongue.

  It’s torture of the grandest kind, exquisite. My eyes shutter tightly closed, all I know the deep sensation, the way my aching clit pulses for him.

  He lightly sucks on the lips of my labia, letting them fall away wetly before dipping his tongue inside me.

  A guttural “uh” is released from my lips, my mouth open.

  Another jolt runs up my spine, his breath hot, on my clit and then, finally, it’s followed by the warm plane of his tongue.

  He laps at it like a man possessed, just the right amount of pressure to slowly build me towards orgasm.

  “Oh, God,” I mutter, lost in the moment.

  He hooks his arms around my thighs and flattens his hands against my stomach, pressing me down into the bed, making me his own, his personal little fuck toy.

  I inhale when his tongue shifts, curling around my clit but with such slow intensity it’s practically criminal. I can’t help reaching down and running my hands through his hair, holding him tightly against me, suffocating him with my sex.

  By the time he’s sucking my clit in earnest, I’ve lost all control, bucking hard against his face, my thighs tight around his head, locking him against me. He continues to focus on my clit, sucking and running his tongue in hot figure eights, the pressure always perfect.

  It builds, pins and needles forming in my extremities, my entire body tight as a bow, pulling, pulling, clenching, building, until I cannot take a second more.

  I don’t fall off the edge, I throw myself from it, the climax crashing into me with all the intensity of a winter tempest. My thighs are clamping against his head so hard I worry I’ll crush it in some dim, distant corner of my mind while my orgasm carries on, forcing the wet wall of my pussy harder against his mouth.

  It’s forever before I remember to breathe, able to suck in a quick draw of breath before it all starts over again, Archer’s tongue relentless. I rise and fall in orgasm, riding it until I don’t know where I end and he begins.

  It’s only as my eyes open and start to focus again, that I can see where I am, I’m able to process just what happened.

  I sit up and see him looking back at me with a lazy smile—head intact.

  He comes forward, crawling onto the bed. I can taste myself on his lips, bringing my arms up and around his neck, pulling him against me. “How do you want me?” I ask.

  “You’re going to ride me,” he replies. “You’re going to ride me until I come in that tight little pussy of yours. You think you can do that?”

  “Yes, sir,” I smile.

  He rolls onto his back and I waste no time throwing my leg up and over, straddling his body. He reaches up to palm my breasts, barely big enough to fill his hands. He doesn’t seem to mind, smiling appreciatively. “Did I already say how beautiful you are?”

  “Once or twice.”

  He reaches back, sharply smacking my ass, enough to elicit a surprised yelp. He looks down between us. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  Nervous, I take hold of his cock, thick and hard in my fingers, and guide it against me. It parts my pussy, sitting there while his hands come to my waist, his eyes finding mine saying ‘Do it.’

  Slowly, I let myself down, rolling my hips to take just the tip of his cock inside, being sure to watch his expression when I lift and then drop, watching the way his eyes widen when he slides deep into the silky glove of my pussy.

  I thought his tongue felt good, but the way his cock fills me, the wonderful sense of satisfaction it provides, is without equal.

  “God, yes,” I moan. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  I rock and grind against him, lifting and falling, taking him to the hilt every time until my pubis is flat against his chest, my clit rubbing exquisitely against the hard slab of his lower chest.

  He thrusts upwards from below, urging me on, telling me in minute detail how it feels, the wet warmth I’m providing.

  He grunts and takes hold of my ass, rolling us over until I’m on my back and starting to thrust deeper.

  “Yes,” I choke, “fuck me.”

  I never thought I’d ever hear myself utter those words, but in that moment I am someone else completely, someone possessed.

  His head drops, his lips brushing mine. I lift myself up to meet them, my neck straining, but he always pulls away at the last second, each taunt forcing my pussy to clench around his cock.

  He groans and bucks against me harder now, the wet slap of our bodies echoing around the room, the erotic sounds we’re making only adding to the act.

  I can’t suppress the sounds coming out of my mouth.

  If Robbie couldn’t hear us before, he sure can now.

  “I can’t wait to have you every night,” Archer tells me, his breathing labored, cock sluicing in and out of my sex. “I want to know every part of you intimately—your mouth, your pussy, your asshole. They’re all mine. Understand?”

  I nod, unable to do much more. I dig my nails into his back, rake them against his shoulder blades as he fucks me. His words, the way he takes me… It’s turning me into a hot mess, more animal than woman, a new and profound creature of his making.

  “I want you to look at me,” he says, a sharp thrust sending a bolt of pleasure up my spine. “I want to see the look on your face when you come again.”

  My eyes begin to roll back in my head, but he takes my face in his hand. “No, no, baby. I said look at me. Look into my eyes. Yes, you fucking like that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, already feeling the familiar strum of something building, growing inside me.

  He builds in turn, each thrust running deeper and longer, harder and harder until the entire bed is shifting.

  He doesn’t tire, continuing on and on, head dropping to take a nipple into his mouth, pulling it away from my breast until I grunt with pleasure.

  “Yes,” he says, “come for me. Come all over my cock, beg me to fill you.”

  “Y-yes,” I stammer, “please. Please,” I repeat, a hot tear sliding down my cheek.

  This time the climax comes unexpected, a freight train barreling from the darkest of nights. I half-scream, half-shout in surprise, stiffening before my body falls into a complex series of contractions from which there is no escape.

  I twitch and buck, exploding from within, my sex gripping and releasing Archer’s beautiful cock in quick succession. It’s at that moment he grunts aloud, finding the end of it and stopping there, a flood of heat following.

  We come together, holding each other tight through it, never wanting this to end.

  With a final jerk of his hips, he allows himself to breathe, falling against me and sliding to the side, his cock coming free to sit wetly against my thigh.

  My body continues to thrum, alive and energized.

  “That was…” but I can’t find the words.

  He rolls onto his back beside me, his leg bent over mine. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?”

  The need’s cooling between my thigh, a growing wetness there I’m pretty sure it going to ruin these sheets for good.

  He reaches a hand across into the space there and feels the mattress.

  “Holy shit,” he says. “You came so hard. Do you know how fucking hot that is?”

  I was kind of embarrassed, but now I smile. “I don’t know what happened.”

  He rolls back on top of me, brushing my ha
ir from my face and covering my mouth with his own. I slide my tongue over his lower lip, testing while he presses his forehead against mine. “How do you feel?” he asks.

  I look deep into his eyes, sliding my hands around his neck. “Better,” I smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ARCHER

  We arrive at the police station just after noon. The precinct is surprisingly quiet given the madness outside, but I’ve heard they keep a tight ship around here.

  Beside me, Winter seems uncertain, holding her arm, eyes darting everywhere but straight ahead.

  We talked about this again this morning and agreed this was the right decision, no matter Winter’s distrust of law enforcement.

  I pause before we get to the front desk. Taking her by the arms and holding her gaze. “This is the best way,” I tell her. “I’ve known Liam forever. We served together, we fought together… He’ll treat you right.”

  “What if they lock me up? I’m an illegal alien, aren’t I?”

  I pretend I’m checking her head. “Two eyes, no antennas… Seems like you’re pretty human to me.”

  She’s in no mood for my antics. “I’m serious, Archer.”

  “I have Liam’s word you won’t be locked up. You’re an informant, after all. I run my thumb lightly over her forehead. “There’s so much knowledge up here, and in here,” I say, waving the envelope with her notes, “the Lacoya Cartel can kiss their narco asses goodbye, and I don’t think anyone’s going to be sorry to see them go.”

  She nods. “I suppose you’re right.”

  She drops her eyes, but I lift her chin back up. “You can be strong, can’t you, for me? You’re a badass remember?”

  She nods again.

  I lean forward to kiss her. “Good. Come on.”

  Liam meets us at the front desk, taking Winter’s hand. “Winter, is it? So nice to meet you properly.”

  “And you,” she replies meekly, shaking it.

  There’s no subtle wink in my direction or wise-crack about her rescue. Liam is in full business mode. He stands there with his hands on his hips, pulling his jacket back into place when he sees Winter’s eyes wander to his weapon. “Welcome to the Miami Beach PD, I guess,” he says, looking around. “It ain’t the Westin, but it’s got a quaint kind of eighties charm, you know.”