Protecting His Subs

by Eileen Green

  “I can’t wait, baby girl. I need to be inside you. Tinker said it was heavenly in there,” he said anxiously. “I need you.”

  “Then come to me,” she said, holding out her arms.

  He leaned down over her, resting his forearms on the bed next to her head. His cock found her pussy, and after swiping through the moisture several times, he sank deep into her with one thrust.

  Her gasp was welcome, for the tightness was heavenly. Tinker had been right. A tight fit, but she was made just for them.

  Waiting just a bit to savor the feel of her, her heat seared him through the latex. He wanted to spend many long hours in Abigail, now and forever.

  With eyes flashing her arousal and excitement, she showed him her feelings. There was so much of her to love, and she had so much to give.

  Jackson began to move within her. He pulled back until just the tip of him remained in her. Her muscles tried hard to hold him in by contracting. The thought that she was so tight before, when she squeezed, it felt as if she was trying to strangle his cock.

  Never before had he had a woman be so naturally tight. He took it as the universe telling him that Abigail was made for him. All was right in his love life.

  Thrusting in until he couldn’t go any further, his balls hit her perineum. Abigail moaned.

  She shifted slightly as she hooked her legs around the back of his thighs. They were flush together as she slipped her arms down to his waist.

  Between the tightness and the heat surrounding him, he knew his time within her was short. Repeatedly, he moved in and out of her. Each time he made contact with her, he ground his hips, causing his pubic bone to rub against her clit.

  Her breathing was coming quicker as she worked her own hips against him. He was going to make sure she came either before him or at the same time.

  As if reading his mind, Tinker’s hand slipped in between Abigail and Jackson’s hips. Jackson could feel his friend and lover rubbing at the top of Abigail’s slit, working her clit.

  Jackson was shuttling in and out of her, and soon, he felt the familiar tingling in his lower back. He could feel her walls shudder against him as she began to moan louder. She clung to him as if he was going to disappear, but he was here to stay.

  Liquid heat boiled in his balls. Abigail screamed out as her orgasm hit her, letting Jackson know that he could let himself go. Fire shot up through his cock and out into the condom as his climax overtook him. He shouted his own release, his cock buried deep within her, as he held on to her.

  Once he was able to move, being fully sated, he raised up on shaky arms to keep from crushing Abigail. Her breathing was short and shallow. A light sheen of perspiration coated her skin, her face, neck, and chest, as well as a bright pink hue.

  Her pussy was still fluttering, but it was getting lighter. Her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping. “That was fantastic,” she murmured, a smile appearing on her face.

  She was still, her arms and her legs wrapped around him. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose before placing one on her lips. “You were magnificent, baby girl. Are you all right?”

  “I’m good,” she mumbled, her eyes remaining closed. “I think I need…a…”

  Abigail’s arms and legs went slack as it appeared she had dozed off. Between him and Tinker, they did probably wear her out if she wasn’t used to sex, let alone twice in a row. She would have to get used to it, for both Jackson and Tinker were horny men.

  Tinker helped him unwind from Abigail’s hold. He pulled his softening cock from her depths and rose off the bed. He walked out to the bathroom where he disposed of the condom. After cleaning himself, he took a wet washcloth and was at the doorway to the bedroom when a pounding sounded at the front door.

  Whoever it was better have a good excuse for disrupting his morning.

  He tossed the cloth at Tinker who began cleaning Abigail as she slept. Jackson retrieved his sweatpants from where they had landed on the floor and headed to the front door where whoever was on the other side was pounding again.

  “All right, all right,” he grumbled.

  When he got to the door he flung it open, ready to give his visitor a piece of his mind. He stopped himself from saying anything.

  Men dressed in dark suits always meant something important. This one was standing next to a very irritated Alex who was dressed the same as Jackson. He, too, had been interrupted from his morning.

  “Sorry to interrupt your morning, Jackson. But this is John Drake of the FBI.” Irritation was in Alex’s voice as he spoke. “Mr. Drake, this is Jackson Malone.”

  “Call me John,” the FBI agent said as he extended his hand.

  “Jackson,” countered Jackson, shaking his hand. “Come in.”

  Holding the door for the two, Jackson watched them walk in. As he closed the door, his mind was racing. Why was Alex staying? Had he done something wrong? What the hell did the FBI need from him?

  Alex had moved over to the couch and moved the blankets that Jackson, Abigail, and Tinker had used while they were sleeping. Both Alex and Drake sat. Jackson sat on the coffee table in front of them.

  “Jackson, I understand you are familiar with the Garza cartel,” Drake said, getting to the point of his visit.

  A chill ran up Jackson’s spine at the mention of the reason he had lost his career, his hearing in one ear, and nearly his life. He knew this was not going to be a good conversation.

  Chapter Nine

  Adrenaline rushed through Abigail as she moved toward the firefighter down on the ground. Before she got to him, an explosion rocked the building that was before her. Knocked off her feet, she braced herself for the fall as she clutched the medical bag she was carrying in one hand. She used her other arm as a makeshift shield over her head that did a poor job since it didn’t cover as much as she hoped.

  Pain sliced through her cheek, and the wind was knocked out of her as she landed on her back. A groan escaped her, something she hated for it made her sound vulnerable and nonprofessional. She was here to take care of the injured in a four-alarm fire that was tearing through a block of high-end apartments, stores, and restaurants.

  Shouts, screams, and the sound of water being sprayed seeped into her hearing. Chaos was all around her, firefighters moving about to put out the blaze, police trying to keep the crowd back, as people tried to rush them. People were still inside the building, and rescuers were doing their best to try to get them out.

  Dizziness swirled in her brain, something she knew was from losing oxygen so quickly. Gathering her wits, she moved to get up, ignoring the pain on her face. She began to get to her feet, but the world spun briefly. Strong arms helped steady her. It was only a few moments before she looked around at the person behind her.

  He was a firefighter she knew from the station, Ian Shepard. She knew he needed to get back to the duty at hand. “I’m okay,” she said loudly.

  “Are you sure?” he shouted, his voice muffled a bit due to the ringing in her ears. He had pulled his face mask down, but his eye protection was still on.

  She recognized him immediately, even with his helmet on. Abigail had a crush on the man at one time, but her heart was now taken by two men. The man before her was quite handsome, but he didn’t compare to Tinker and Jackson.

  “I’m sure,” she nodded, hopefully sounding confident. Her face burned where something had hit her, but she had a job to do.

  His hands remained on her shoulders for a few seconds longer before he released her. Digging deep within her, she willed herself to be steady. She took those last few steps over to the man lying on the road next to an engine that sat across the street from the blaze.

  Ignoring everything going on around her, she knelt and took a mental assessment. His headgear had been removed, and an oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. He was holding it in place himself, his hand shaking.

  The jacket he wore had been sliced open at his left bicep, by what, she didn’t know. The object had to have been metal to
cut its way through the thick material. It was probably a trajectory piece, something that came flying at him or downward.

  Blood was coloring the arm of the jacket and the asphalt beneath him. The flames from the fire and lights from the engines and stores nearby were bright in the night sky, giving the illumination Abigail needed to see.

  Recognizing him from Station 17, she smiled down at him. “Hey there, Toby. I hate to do this, but I’m going to need to take your jacket off. Do you think you can help me?”

  Toby nodded. He tried to sit up but struggled a bit. Abigail helped him, trying to avoid moving his arm too much. Once he was up, she helped him shrug out of the bulky item. He groaned loudly as he pulled his injured arm out of the sleeve.

  She helped him lie back as she pushed the jacket aside. Glancing around, she looked for her partner, Felix. He was working on someone else about half a block away.

  Toby groaned again, drawing her attention back to him. Abigail opened her bag and began reaching for items automatically. Before long, she had gotten a police officer to come over and help her hold a cloth to the wound to try to staunch the bleeding.

  It wasn’t working well, the red blood soaking up the cloth quickly. Talking into the mic on her shoulder, Abigail let the hospital know she had a patient coming in and the trauma Toby had endured.

  Tying the current cloth to his arm with tape, the police officer helped her load the injured man onto the gurney two of the firefighters retrieved for them. With the amount of blood Toby was losing, he was going to need a transfusion once they arrived at the ER.

  Felix arrived just as they had finished pushing the gurney into the ambulance. Abigail climbed in and took her seat next to him as Felix took the driver’s seat, and they were off in a minute.

  At the hospital, there were other traumas from the fire in the triage area, but Toby was taken in immediately. Wanting to stick around to see if he was going to be all right, Abigail knew that wasn’t going to happen. They were needed back at the fire.

  Another explosion had ripped through the building, sending several more firefighters, police officers, and civilians to the hospital. It was going to be a long night.

  * * * *

  She was late getting home the next morning, for she stayed to help, and she had a pile of paperwork to turn in.

  Pulling up into her parking spot at her apartment around ten o’clock, she noticed Jackson’s car sitting one of the visitor’s spots. Taking a moment to herself, she thought how the night’s work had kept her from dwelling on the danger Jackson was in.

  Tinker and she had stayed in bed when Jackson and his guests had been talking. They heard the FBI bring up someone named Garza who ran a drug cartel.

  Jackson had told Abigail and Tinker about his last mission as a Navy Seal, and how it had turned into a clusterfuck. Not only had they lost one of the civilians they had gone into rescue, but Jackson had been shot in the neck and had lost his hearing in his right ear. She couldn’t help but cry from the story, but she was thankful that he had made it. For the most part, he was fine. Occasionally, he wouldn’t hear a conversation, or movement to the right of him, but she and Tinker knew better than to sneak up on him or talk quietly on his right side.

  Once Alex and the FBI agent left, silence came from the living room. They expected Jackson to come back into the room when they were gone, but he hadn’t.

  Abigail was tired, but she knew her man was most likely worried. He always tried to be strong, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally.

  “I’m going out there,” she announced as she sat up. Tinker followed suit.

  Not meaning to be disrespectful, she hated to rummage through Jackson’s drawers, but, she found three T-shirts and a pair of sweats. Slipping a shirt on, she was glad it reached almost to her knees as the one from the night before. Tinker put on the sweats and a T-shirt, and the third shirt was for Jackson, who had gone out in pants, but was shirtless.

  They made their way down the hallway to the living room where they found Jackson sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. She moved around until she was standing next to him and handed him the extra shirt.

  He accepted it with a lame smile. Abigail looked at Tinker who sat on the coffee table before Jackson. He looked as confused as she felt.

  “Do you want to talk about it, buddy?” Tinker asked, concern lacing his voice.

  Plopping down next to Jackson, she waited. It was best to let him talk about it, but their close proximity let him know they were there to listen to him.

  Now, ready to end her ‘long day’ after her shift, she was home and apparently, he had come to visit. She had given him a key, so he could come and go as he pleased. However, he usually didn’t come over until later in the day, giving her time to take a nap after her shift.

  Fatigue overtook her as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Before she could put the key in the lock, the door opened, and she was pulled into strong arms. She landed against a hard chest and was cradled there. Breathing in, she knew it was Jackson she was pressed against, his unique aroma along with a woodsy scent of his body soap tickling her nose.

  “God, I was so worried about you, baby girl,” he whispered into her hair. “I saw what was happening on the news last night and this morning, and I knew you were out there.”

  “I’m fine.” Her words were muffled by his chest. “Just tired.”

  Jackson pulled her inside and closed the door behind them. He led her over to the small dining room table and sat her down. “I’ll fix you some breakfast. I’m sure you’re hungry, too.”

  Abigail nodded. Jackson leaned in and gave her kiss on her forehead. She was glad he did, for if it had been a kiss to the lips, she wouldn’t have been able to resist him.

  Moving around in the kitchen, she watched him dice up some ham, onions, and bell peppers. He then scrambled some eggs and poured them into a pan. He added the cut-up items and then proceeded to make her an omelet. Being generous with the cheese, which she liked, Jackson finished cooking it and then transferred it to a plate. He added more cheese, and then took the slices of bread he had toasted, buttered them, and placed them next to the egg dish.

  He placed the plate in front of her and sat to her right. Being hungry, she dug in as soon as the plate hit the table. There had been no time to grab a bite to eat with all the chaos going on last night.

  The flavors were fantastic as she scarfed down her breakfast. She drank of the hot coffee Jackson had set down before her after he had realized she needed some. A chuckle had sounded from her as he eyed her with mock anger as he had poured the brew.

  After she was finished, she rose. Jackson stood also, and took the plate from her as she reached for it. “I’ll take that. You go shower and relax. I’ll be in the bedroom after I finished the dishes.”

  It was fascinating to see a big burly Dom be humble enough to cook, clean, or be domestic in any way. But right now, she didn’t feel up to teasing him about it. She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to stand for a shower.

  Making her way down to her small bathroom, she looked at it critically. After getting used to Jackson’s fantasy bathroom, this was a letdown. She shed her uniform, dropping them into the hamper right outside the bathroom door, and then stood and waited for the water to come through the faucet heated.

  Once it was ready, she stepped past the shower curtain and leaned against the tile wall, letting the hot water rain down on her. Steam filled the space, filling her lungs. Coughing a few times helped to alleviate the some of the smoke she had inhaled at the fire scene.

  She didn’t know how long she had been in there, enjoying the water, but hearing Jackson ask if she was okay, she knew it was time to get out. Picking up her body poof, she poured her vanilla-scented body wash onto it and scrubbed the last twenty-seven hours off her body. When she was finished, she got out, used one of her lukewarm towels to dry off, grabbed the terrycloth robe from the back of the back of the door, and slipped into it.

  Ja
ckson was lying on her bed, the covers pulled back for her. He was fully dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with Navy emblazoned on the front. He looked cozy enough.

  His hand patted the pillow next to him in invitation. Abigail moved over the bed and slid into the empty spot. Turning onto her side, she faced him.

  “I know you are going through something right now, Jackson, and I wish you would talk to us about it.” Abigail tried to keep her voice even, for it hurt that he wouldn’t open up about the extent of what was going on.

  He was silent for a while before he pulled her up against him, wrapping his arms around her. Her head was resting on his chest. The beating of his heart was steady, soothing. His aroma surrounded her. She loved being in his arms. Tinker was the only one missing in this bed.

  Jackson kissed the top of her head. “I know I’ve told you about my last mission and how it went wrong.” She nodded. “I killed the leader’s brother. Apparently, he has taken an offense to that. According to the FBI’s sources, Garza has put a bounty on my head.”

  Pain stung her heart at his declaration. That someone had a death warrant hanging above Jackson’s head was frightening. His life could be snuffed out just as she had found him, tearing apart her life, and Tinker’s.

  Tears fell. She couldn’t stop them. She cried into Jackson’s shirt, letting worry and fear seep into her. Terrible images flashed in her mind like a slideshow, including ones where he lay lifeless, his blood streaming from his body.

  Her sobs wracked her body as her energy dwindled until her fatigue turned into sleep.

  * * * *

  Opening the door quietly, Tinker was wondering what was going on. He had peeked in the front window that had been opened since the previous day when Abigail had left for work. Her car was in her parking spot, and Jackson’s was in the lot also.