Close Protection (Blood Brothers #2)

by Manda Mellett

  “I can’t wait to have you.” He pulls back a bit, and I see he’s breathing fast and looks like he’s trying to get himself under control as he draws his hands out of my top, and takes hold of my arms. “First, though, I’ve got to check in with the office and Detective Coulten. We’re going to have to put this on hold for a moment.” He’s reluctant to move away, his eyes making contact with mine.

  I’m wet and ready, but I know he’s right. I nod as he goes into the sitting room to make his calls. I’m still carrying my handbag, so I slip the strap off my shoulder and throw it down on the hall table noticing the letters again. Oh well, I might as well deal with these now. I collect them and take them with me into the kitchen. My mind is more on what I’m going to cook tonight, and what might be in the fridge or freezer for the makings of dinner. I stand by the counter, quick and simple recipes going through my mind, and idly slit open the first letter. It goes straight into the bin, the second likewise. The third is from my bank explaining some changes to my account which don’t seem to affect me, but being an official communication; I glance through it just in case. The fourth has a typewritten envelope, but no custom franking mark, just a stamp. I tear it open and then gasp. Oh shit! I drop the contents on the floor, and then bend to pick them up. The peace of the last few days shatters as I read the words:

  GONNA SMOKE YOU OUT, BITCH! COUNT YOUR DAYS!

  “Jon!” I scream out but don’t wait for him to come to me. I tear into the other room and throw the typewritten page at him.

  He stands up and glowers as he reads the message, his arms come around me. Tears fall from my eyes; I’m crying, but I’m not sure whether it’s more from fear or frustration. I just want this over and done with. Who the hell is this bastard who’s messing with my mind and my life?

  As Jon jumps into action, getting back in contact with Coulten and his colleagues at Grade A, informing them about the latest missive, I sit with my head in my hands. Over the past few days, I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security, even beginning to wonder whether the stalker had given up. I hate the weakness that makes me give into tears, but I just haven’t got it in me to be strong anymore.

  Jon spends most of the afternoon on the phone. From his side of the conversations he’s as pissed off as I am, but it doesn’t sound like anyone’s any closer to finding the identity of the man who’s making my life hell for me.

  My joy in the day having been blown to the four winds, we end up having yet another takeaway for dinner, Thai this time, but I’m unable to eat much. Jon’s worried about me and keeps throwing me looks full of concern.

  “What bugs me most is that I’m powerless to do anything!” I tell him as we sit having a drink after the dinner I could only pick at.

  Putting his arm around my shoulders, he pulls me close. “I know, sweetheart. But don’t be worried. I’m here with you, and this house has got the top of the range security. You’re safe.”

  His closeness comforts me. I snuggle into him, breathing in his unique aroma. I needed this man to hold me. “I’m so glad you’re with me, and I don’t have to handle this alone, I don’t think I could do it,” I tell him then add, “I just want to get back to normal, you know? I hate how he’s making me feel so helpless!”

  “What normal do you want to get back to?” he asks, seeming concerned, “With, or without me?”

  My head swings round. With him, of course. “I want to explore what my new normal might be. With you.” I offer, tentatively, still anxious about our relationship, still a little nervous that things might be different between us when they catch my stalker.

  He sits up and regards me, his eyes shining. “That sounds excellent to me, sweetheart.” As if in slow motion he leans forwards and puts a gentle kiss on my lips.

  Suddenly I have to know. “Have you had a relationship with anyone else like me?”

  He chuckles softly. “There’s no one like you, Mia.”

  I brush his comment off. “You know what I mean. Had a relationship with the person you’re protecting?”

  My comment seems to hit a chord with him. “Never.” His response is adamant. “I’ve already told you; I’ve not had what you’d call anything like a relationship before at all. And if I had any sense I’d be leaving you well alone.”

  That stings. I make as if to move away, but he holds me down. “I’m here to provide protection for you, Mia. But you distract me.” He looks away, rubs his hand across his face as if he’s thinking. “I won’t leave you, but I need to think how best to handle this situation. I refuse to put you in danger ‘cos I’m staring at your fucking fantastic arse instead of keeping an eye out for the motherfucker threatening you.”

  I start to glow, and can’t stop my mouth broadening, “Fucking fantastic arse?”

  “Yeah.” He grins back. “And then you’ve got these fucking fantastic knockers as well.” To make his point he leans forwards and tries to suckle my nipples, but it’s not too successful as I’m still wearing a T-shirt and bra. He nuzzles my neck, and speaks so quietly I hardly hear him, and it takes a second for his instruction to sink in. “Take off your clothes, Mia. I want you naked.” He moves to my side and sits, waiting.

  At first, I hesitate, waiting for him to take over. It’s one thing for him to undress me, another for me to give him a personal striptease. Although his voice might have been soft, his tone was dominant. I glance at him, and he just raises an eyebrow. Slowly I get to my feet and draw in a deep breath for courage. Keeping my eyes on his, I cross my hands over my front and take hold of the hem of my T, and slowly pull it up over my head. My bra is plain, a simple white one from a chain store. I’ve never bothered with fancy underwear, and it dawns on me that that’s something I’m going to need to rectify. His eyes narrow appreciatively; he’s concentrating on what I’m revealing, not what I’m taking off. Inhaling another breath, I undo the button on my jeans, then the zip. In as sexy a way as possible, I shimmy them down my legs, kicking off my shoes at the same time. My knickers match my bra, plain, simple and not particularly attractive.

  I falter, but he waves his hand for me to continue. So I reach behind me, undoing the clasp of my bra I let it fall free. I hear him whistle through his teeth, and his evident admiration spurs me on. Not allowing myself time to reconsider I take off my knickers, pulling them down and stepping out of them. He holds out his hand, and I give them to him, and watch, wide-eyed, as he brings them up and sniffs them.

  “Hmm.” He breathes in my musk. I flush; it seems an oddly intimate gesture.

  I’m feeling awkward now. Do I go to him, will he come to me? But he doesn’t leave me much time to worry, and I realise he is taking control. The Dom is in the room.

  “Stand still.” He rises. “Spread your legs, and put your hands behind your head.”

  He’s going to do a Dom’s inspection.

  I’m nervous. In all the time I’ve been writing about such things I never expected experience this situation myself. Nevertheless, I do as he instructed, remembering as a Dom he’ll want to push me out of my comfort zone, and he’s certainly accomplishing that! He steps forward, softly stroking my breasts which have been pushed out by the position I’m holding. “Beautiful.” He tells me.

  He lets his fingers trail down my stomach. It tickles, and I flinch, but try to keep still. “Remember your safewords, Mia?” His eyes take hold of mine.

  “Yes.” The word comes out as a husky gasp.

  He cocks his head, waiting for more.

  “Red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green’s good to go.” I expand.

  He’s still gazing straight at me, trying to read my expression. “Give me a colour.”

  “Green.” The way he regularly checks in helps to put me at my ease.

  Once satisfied with my response, his hand moves further down, across my waxed mound and between my legs. His fingers probe me, and then he removes them, my arousal evident and glistening on his fingers. He puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks my wetness from
them. “You taste fucking incredible.” He does it again, this time holding his fingers out to me. “Taste yourself,” he instructs. I open my mouth and lick. I’m not sure I like the taste as much as he does, but it pleases him that I obey, and the very thought of the dirty things he’s doing causes a new rush of wetness through me.

  Next, he moves around to stand behind me. “Bend over and grab your ankles.” He waits for me to get into position, and then reaches forwards to put his fingers on my clit. He toys with it, and it’s hard to resist the urge to stand up and reach for him. But he moves his hand again, putting a finger inside my pussy. Then he puts in another. Unlike last night, I don’t freak, but he checks to make sure. “Give me a colour.”

  “Green.” Again it comes out as a gasp.

  He moves his fingers around, gathering up as much of my moisture as he can, placing one hand on my back as if to hold me in place. He’s moving his finger around the rim of my arsehole. I start to tense, having to remind myself this is Jon and not one of the monsters. Gently he pushes against my hole but doesn’t try to get inside.

  “This will be mine, Mia, not yet, but one day.” It’s a statement, not a question. Then he pulls his finger away. “Kneel in front of me.”

  The sudden instruction takes me by surprise, and I take a minute to react. Then I’m kneeling before him, me completely naked, him fully clothed. I’m more turned on than I would have thought possible, my pussy throbbing as though it needs to be filled. He puts his hand under my chin and lifts my head. He’s looking at me searchingly. “You can stop at any time, Mia. I don’t want to make you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. I’m pushing you, but you need to talk to me if I’m taking it too far or too fast for you.”

  I find it difficult to answer verbally, so I just nod. I suspect I know what is coming, and to my immense surprise find my mouth watering in anticipation. I want Jon. I want all of him. I want to taste him as he’s tasted me.

  He waits until he’s certain of my mental state. “Take my cock out.”

  His jeans are button up, so I fumble a bit getting them undone, but at last I do. Realising he’s gone commando today, I take care as I loosen the denim and put the material down just over his hips. His cock springs free. I want to examine it properly, and I feast my eyes on it greedily. It’s thick and long; the head is bulbous and an angry purple-pink colour, it has a sheen, almost like satin. Thick veins run along it, and I itch to touch it and see how it feels. He reaches down and fists himself, stroking long strokes from his heavy balls to the head, making a pre-cum ooze from the slit. I lick my lips.

  He chuckles. “Like what you see?”

  “Can I?” I wait for him to grant permission.

  For an answer, he puts his hand behind my head and gently pulls me forwards. My tongue flicks out and collects the moisture gathered at the tip. It’s salty, and I press my legs together to try to get relief from the pressure building there.

  “Suck me, Mia.”

  I open my mouth as wide as possible and still can only get the head of him inside. I run my tongue around it, then pull away, and lick the sides of his cock following the path of the veins. I cup his balls in my hands, rolling them between my palms. I’m doing something right as I hear a moan escape him. Running my fingers along his length, I discover it’s as hard as marble, yet the skin feels soft like velvet.

  Suddenly his fist is in my hair, and he’s holding my head to him, pushing his cock against my lips. For an instant, I get a flashback, but then I smell his musk, taste his pre-cum again, and know this is Jon, that he’s not going to hurt me, or force me to do anything I don’t want to do.

  “Relax your jaw,” he instructs as he pushes into my mouth. “Breathe through your nose.” Gently he pushes in and out, gradually going further and hitting the back of my throat. I instinctively swallow my throat muscles spasming against him. “Fuck, you’re killing me!” His obvious pleasure spurs me on. He picks up the pace and starts fucking my mouth. I gag; immediately he pulls out before I start panicking.

  “I need you, Mia. Now!” He pulls me to my feet and then pushes me forwards, bending me over the couch. He’s behind me, but his touch leaves me, and I hear a crinkling of a foil packet. He’s putting on a condom. Once ready he reaches round with his hand and touches my already stimulated clit, making me gasp, my reaction showing how close I am to coming. I’m so wet and ready he thrusts inside me in one go and then stills to accustom me to his invasion. It feels so good; I’m almost ready to come. Sensing my closeness he pulls out and then starts pounding into me. This is different from last night; he's no longer holding back, and I’m elated that he’s using me so hard. It feels so real. With each plunge into my depths, he stimulates that spot inside me so I’m almost going crazy in my effort to go over the top. He presses one finger against my arsehole, and pulls my hand down, so I’m playing with my clit. As he pushes his finger inside my arse, I barely notice anything except that it propels me close to climax, and I feel him expanding inside me.

  “Come for me.”

  I explode, unable to breathe, my muscles continuing to contract in seemingly never ending waves. Everything goes black. As last, with a gasp, my starved lungs steal in much-needed oxygen.

  “Fucking hell!” Jon’s lying across my back as though he’s collapsed there.

  Carefully he pulls himself out of me and pulls me back towards him. I shake my head, trying to clear it. I think I might have blown a few brain cells that time.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

  “Me? You?” My breathing is still fast, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think I just died.”

  He chuckles, hugging me close, and a huge belly laugh comes from him. “It’s not called le petit mort for nothing. Hang on; don’t go anywhere, I’ve just got to go and clean up.” I hear him go upstairs to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. I couldn’t move if I tried. He’s back quickly, and puts us both onto the sofa with me lying on top of him. I let my head rest back on his shoulder.

  He runs his hand up my stomach, caressing it then, whispers in my ear, “Ever since we saw Mary, I’ve got strange thoughts in my head. I’m wondering what it would be like to see your belly swell knowing my child is growing inside.” His hand moves up to caress my breasts, “And to watch my son or daughter suckling here.”

  I give a short laugh. “And would you like watching me puke up morning noon and night? Shuffle around ‘cos my back is killing me, wobbling on swollen ankles? Will you be there for the birth when I’m trying to push something the size of a football out of my pussy?”

  “Christ! I didn’t think about any of that.” He’s rubbing my arm as if deep in thought. “I never want to see you hurt or in pain.”

  “Anyway, we’ve only known each other a week. It’s a bit too early to start thinking about a family.” My words are sensible, yet inside my heart races. Is he that serious about me? Serious enough to start thinking about a family? And suddenly, I realise I could want that.

  He gazes at me; his pupils still dilated from our recent pleasure. Then he says in a solemn tone. “I know it is, Mia. I don’t know what’s come over me. Fuck, I’ve never had this kind of feeling before. What the fuck are you doing to me, woman?” He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, but stands up, pulling me with him, and then lifts me in his arms. “Bed. I’m knackered, and I think you are too.”

  I could get used to being carried, I ponder, as he takes me upstairs. It stirs something primitive inside to be with a man who’s strong enough to carry me in his arms. He only puts me down to open the shower door and holds me upright until the water runs hot enough. He notices my old fashioned shower cap hanging on the door and offers it to me, and then has a good laugh at my expense at the picture I make when I put it on. But he’s right; I’m dead beat, and I don’t want to bother about washing and drying my hair tonight. He steps into the shower with me, gently soaping my body. I take hold of the shower gel and return the favour. In some ways, this feels even more
intimate than the sex we’ve just had. When he turns the water off we manage to manoeuvre ourselves out; my shower wasn’t built for two. He wraps me in a large fluffy bath towel that’s been hanging over the radiator and dries me, before taking the smaller towel and drying himself. He leaves me alone for a moment while I complete the rest of my pre-sleep preparations, and then uses the bathroom after me. By the time he’s returned, I’m already curled up in bed. I notice he’s been down and collected our clothes from the sitting room which was thoughtful. Then he gets in beside me, quickly adjusting his position until he’s spooning behind me. Already I’m getting used to his warmth nestling against my back and know I would miss it if he wasn’t there. It’s only moments before I fall asleep.

  Sometime later I’m disorientated as the sound of a crash downstairs rudely wakes me, along with the shrill sound of the alarm system. Before I have a chance to register what could have disturbed my rest, Jon’s already leapt out of bed, and is getting into his jeans. With a fraught whispered instruction for me to stay put, he leaves the room.

  I’m naked, so I reach for my clothes as well, wanting to be prepared if necessary. I’m only half into them when I hear his panicked shout.

  Chapter 21

  Jon

  Three years ago

  Nijad was unconscious for almost two days. While the police had him cuffed to the hospital bed, Jasim, his brother, had flown over from London, the family lawyer arrived, and I stood in the doorway in guard mode, my legs apart, and hands behind my back. When I forced myself to look at my former friend it was with disgust that only deepened when, with obvious reluctance, the police officer removed his restraints. It emerged that the Kassis family had bought the woman off with such a large sum that she was now saying it had been an accident that caused her injuries. No one believed her revised story, but there was nothing anyone could do unless she again changed her mind. Nijad was claiming to have convenient amnesia and said he couldn’t remember a thing.