I moan into his mouth, rolling my hips upward against him. Every muscle in his body is tightening up, tensing to stay in control. It’s all he can do to keep from grabbing me and ravishing my body, using me. How can I tell him to go ahead? That there are things I am so afraid of in this world, but he is not one of them? There might have been a time when I would shy away from this. Recoil and withdraw, run away back to my lonely condo and lick my wounds in private. Tell myself in the mirror that I don’t want it. I don’t need it.
Tell myself I can do without love. Without passion. After all, it’s just another pretty distraction from work, isn’t it? Just another weight to slow me down.
But even if it may be true, it doesn’t matter to me now. My career is being held captive in Eddie Arnold’s greasy hands. I can’t work. I can’t plow away into the future. I can’t put on those blinders that keep me moving forward without ever glancing back or taking time to watch the world slide by around me.
All I have, all I want right now is here. In this room. Underneath the watchful gaze of the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Wes pulls back and sweeps the hair back out of my face, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the very first time. And it’s that expression on his face that finally gives me the courage to say the words I’ve been holding onto.
“Don’t make me wait anymore,” I whisper. “I know what I want.”
Wes kisses me again, fiercely, his tongue probing into my mouth while his hands rove down my face. Down my neck, my arms, and back up to my breasts. He cups them in his hands, the calloused skin rough and ticklish on my sensitive flesh. He bites my lip, not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to hurt. I can feel that warmth between my legs getting hotter, tingles rolling from my head to my toes. He unfolds me like a flower, blooming under sunny blue skies. I spread my legs for him, arching my back to press my breasts into the cups of his hands. He massages them, squeezing gently, then rolling his thumbs and forefingers over my nipples until they stiffen into peaks. I groan, tossing my head back as he bends to tug a nipple between his teeth. He flicks his tongue over it, sucking and squeezing until I’m panting with need. Tendrils of sharp pleasure reverberate through me, making my clit ache. I need him to touch me there. I need his hand or his mouth or his cock. Badly.
Almost as though he can read my mind, he slides a hand down along my stomach, over my pelvis, to cup my mound, using his middle finger to stroke my slick sex. I thrust into his hand involuntarily, instinctively pushing toward that glorious touch. His fingertip brushes over my clit and I cry out, trembling. I reach my arms out and grab hold of the sheets, steadying myself. He lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks my sweet juices from them, his eyes closing tight in pure enjoyment. He leans back down, kissing his way up between my breasts, along my collarbone, to that ticklish spot on the side of my neck. I shiver, torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to stay in this position forever. He kisses lightly at first, just letting his teeth brush over the skin, and then he sucks harder. One hand cups my left breast, stroking my nipple and squeezing the taut, smooth flesh, and his other hand slips down between my thighs. He circles my clit with two fingers, making me burn and shake.
“Oh god, oh god,” I murmur breathlessly, my eyes rolling back in my head.
Wes sucks a deep, bruising kiss into my neck, making a mark on me to brand me as his own. I almost can’t wait to look in the mirror later and see what it looks like. See the purple proof that Wes fucked me, took control of me, marked me for however long the bruise lasts. I wish I could keep it forever, remind myself every time I pass a reflection that I was his. That I will probably always be his. Because right now, in this overwhelming, pulsing tidal wave of emotion and passion, I know. I know I’m his.
Wes knows it, too. I can tell by the way he plays me like a beloved guitar, his fingers slipping over my skin like he knows me by heart. He finds those sensitive, hidden places so easily, by instinct, reading me from memory or by some crazy psychic connection. Whatever it is, I never, ever want him to stop.
He slips a finger inside me, hooking it to stroke expertly at that most hidden of gems deep within. His lips rove down to suck my breasts again, licking and biting gently at my nipples. I rock my hips and moan, unable to even think of a coherent sentence, much less say one. My pleasure is mounting, circling around that little knot of bliss he’s building inside me, making it almost hurt, it’s so fucking good. I whimper, gripping the sheets tightly.
“Yes, baby,” he growls, looking up at me. “Come for me. I want to feel your sweetness all over my hand. Give it to me, sweetheart. I know you need this.”
I rock against his hand a few more times and then I come with a shattering scream, collapsing like a ragdoll as my pussy clenches and twitches around his fingers. Wes bends to kiss me, biting and sucking as he positions the head of his thick cock at my pulsing hole. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, begging him to fuck me.
“Tell me how you want it,” Wes commands, those blue eyes flashing with danger.
“Hard. Please, Wes. Fuck me hard. I want it… I want it to hurt,” I beg him. “Fill me up.”
He teases me for a moment, rubbing the head of his shaft in a tight circle around my pussy, tantalizing me, making me desperate. I thrust up toward him and he smirks. There’s no question who is in control, and it sure as hell isn’t me. Normally, that might scare me. I like to be in control. I’m always taking charge. But not now. Not with Wes. I don’t have to. He knows just what I need and how to give it to me. It’s liberating. Freeing.
And it’s fucking hot as hell.
“I’m gonna fuck you until you’re screaming, but don’t you dare come until I tell you to,” Wes orders. “Got it?”
I nod. “Yes. Yes,” I manage to whisper.
“Good girl,” he hisses through gritted teeth. And then he pushes the full, enormous length of his cock inside me, sliding in to the hilt. I whimper and clench around him, my pussy convulsing instantly at the overwhelming pleasure. He’s so fucking big. I can feel myself stretching to accommodate him. It hurts, in the best way possible.
“Fuck me, Wes. God, I need you to fuck me,” I plead. He wraps his arms around my thighs and moves backward, yanking me to the edge of the bed as he stands up, his shaft still feeling sheathed inside me. He hooks my legs over his shoulders, slides a pillow under my ass, and with his hands gripping the soft flesh of my thighs, he starts to thrust. At this angle, I can feel everything-- every last glorious inch of his massive cock slamming into me, striking my g-spot over and over again.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Such a tight little pussy.”
He fucks me so hard I can feel my body sliding up on the bed, but he pulls me back, snapping his hips to shove his cock in and out faster and faster.
“Touch yourself. Play with your clit, sweetheart. I want to see you writhe.”
Obediently, I reach down and start to massage my clit, moaning at the near-incomprehensible bliss of stimulating my clit and my g-spot at the exact same time. Wes smirks devilishly, licking his lips at the sight of me, like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever seen in his life. He fucks me deeply, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting me up to slam into me harder while I tremble and whimper. I can feel my orgasm coming closer, my pussy tightening up as Wes pounds into me.
“You want to come, don’t you, baby?” he growls.
I nod. “Yes. Oh, fuck. Please. I need to come,” I breathe.
“Not yet. I’m not finished with you yet,” he promises darkly.
He reaches down and scoops me up. I put my arms around his neck as he holds me up, his strong arms bouncing me up and down on his cock, spearing me so deeply it almost feels like he might break me in half. Face to face now, he kisses me, swallowing back every single one of my moans. My climax is getting closer and closer now, stimulating further by that deep ache.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Wes whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“I’m ready. Please,”
I gasp.
“Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock,” he demands. He fucks me faster, holding me up and bouncing me on his shaft harder.
And just like that, I’m screaming, going limp as I gush all over him, making us slippery as he lowers me back onto the bed. He stands up and snaps his fingers. “Turn around. Get on your hands and knees like you did in that air vent. Show me that beautiful ass,” he commands.
Still pulsing from the waves of orgasm, I do what he orders, bending over and looking back at him over my shoulder eagerly. At this point, he could tell me to do absolutely anything and I would do it in a heartbeat. As long as he keeps making me come, he can have anything in the world he wants. I have never felt like this before, and I don’t want it to end.
Wes grabs me by the hips and shoves his cock back inside my trembling, slick pussy easily, starting out slow for a second before picking up the pace. He bounces my ass against him, his balls slapping against my clit as he buries his cock deep within me.
“Such a good girl, taking every fucking inch,” he groans, fucking me so hard it brings tears to my eyes. “I think you deserve to come again, don’t you?”
“Fuck-- oh god-- yes! Yes!” I exclaim as he pounds into me, stuffing me full of his shaft.
He reaches underneath me to stroke my clit, rubbing his fingers in tight circles around and around while his cock shoves into my g-spot, hit after hit. I can feel my body going all tingly and tense, building toward another orgasm. Wes slaps my ass, then squeezes it tightly with his free hand, using it to steady himself as he fucks me faster and faster. I can feel him starting to lose control, the rhythm getting more and more erratic. I clench my pussy around him, squeezing him tight and making him groan.
“Yes, Molly. Just like that, sweetheart. You want me to come inside you, don’t you? Just stuff you with my come?” he rumbles, rolling my clit between his fingers until I’m seeing stars.
“Oh--oh, fuck-- yes. Yes! Wes, oh god!” I cry out.
“Yeah, baby. Tighten that little cunt for me,” Wes groans.
“Feels-- so-- fucking-- good,” I whine, falling forward and burying my face in the sheets while he pounds me so hard from behind, his hand gripping my ass, bruising me, marking me as his own just the way I like it…
“Molly!” he bellows, and he tightens up for a moment just before letting his thick seed pour deep inside my pussy. Scarcely a half-second later I’m wailing, pulsating around him and gushing sweet honey all over his cock as he fucks into me a few more times, milking every last drop of his come into me. Both exhausted, he pulls me up to kiss the back of my neck, wrap his arms around me, his hands squeezing my breasts as we cling together through the last dazzling waves of shared pleasure.
He releases me and slides out, climbing onto the bed beside me as we collapse against the pillows. Still shaking, I wriggle into his arms, resting my forehead against his powerful chest while his muscular arms slide around me, shielding me from the world. Here, in this moment, nothing can hurt me. No pain in this world can reach me. With Wes, I’m safe.
We stay this way for the rest of the night, curled up on the bed, soaking in the warmth of each other’s presence. We don’t need words. We don’t need anything but this, just being together in the comfortable silence. I’m exhausted, and Wes hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. For a moment, he acts like he might get up, go post up and keep guard. But I pull him closer, unwilling to let him go for even a second. The moon casts glowing pillars of light through the windows while the city goes to sleep outside. Just before I drift off to sleep, I reach out and grab my burner phone. There’s still no answer from my sister. I know I should be worried, but I’m so fucking tired, so comfortable here with Wes, ready to sleep.
But before I close my eyes, I send a quick SOS text message to Andie.
In the morning, I wake up still wrapped in Wes’s arms, my whole body aching with the effort of last night’s fuck. I roll over and kiss him gently on the nose and those bright blue eyes flutter open. He smiles, warming my heart.
I slowly sit up, stretch, and then instinctively check the burner phone. It dawns on me, the memory of sending that SOS message to Andie last night. I click the screen open, and my heart stops. There’s still no answer. Andie has never ignored an SOS message. Ever. Something is horribly, horribly wrong.
12
Wes
“You need to stay calm right now,” I say as I pull my jacket on.
Molly isn’t on the same wavelength.
She’s been pacing back and forth for the past five minutes, checking her phone repeatedly as if she’s trying to make sure she hasn’t just missed a message or is reading something wrong.
And in all honesty, I don’t think her fears are unfounded.
“I can’t,” she snaps, brushing a lock of hair out of her face yet again. “I need to figure out what to do, I-I-I can’t just sit around and do nothing, there’s no way that Andie wouldn’t be answering unless there was something seriously, seriously wrong!”
“I believe you,” I say, nodding firmly and making eye contact with her. “But we can’t do anything until we have a clear head and think things through step by step.”
“We don’t have time!” she nearly shouts, stopping at the kitchen counter and leaning back on it, consciously trying to keep herself from biting her nails. She wrings her hands instead. “But I’m on the run, I’m supposed to be staying under the radar, there are fucking mercenaries after me! That fucking bastard Eddie has to have something to do with this, he has to!”
“He could be trying to lure you out,” I point out, crossing my arms. “He must know the two of you are close. If he wants to get to you or draw you out somehow, this is easily the best way to do it.”
She nods in agreement, but the worry on her face only gets worse. “That doesn’t help either of us though. Fucking...fuck!” she walks in a circle in the kitchen, putting her hands on her hair before forcing herself to take a breath. “That fucking bastard.”
It’s a dirty play--and it’s one that I recognize. It’s the kind of thing the mafia does all the time, and I’ve known people who have done similar things personally.
“So if I try to find her, I’m just putting myself out there for Eddie to find, but if I don’t, Andie’s in trouble, but even if Eddie isn’t behind it, I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile and and and-”
“Molly!” I say, stepping forward and putting my hands on her shoulders gently, squeezing them and looking into her eyes. They’re wild and panicked, so I keep a calm as face as I can. “You need to get a hold of yourself. Follow my breaths,” I say, and together, we practice breathing--five seconds in, seven seconds out, several times, until Molly’s hands have stopped shaking.
While we breathe, my mind races with possibilities. My instinct is just to keep her here and keep my client safe. That’s the responsible, professional thing to do.
I’ve broken all kinds of professional boundaries in the past two days, though.
I know my feelings for Molly--whatever that means--are affecting my judgment, but that aside, I know there’s a good chance her fears are very valid. And I know Molly enough by now to know that she won’t stay put in peace. She’s better than that.
“Alright,” I say once I see the panic settle down in Molly’s eyes. “My professional opinion is that we should work backward from what you know about Andie’s whereabouts. It’s the day after Christmas. Who would Andie have talked to recently?”
Molly gives a frustrated sigh and breaks away from me, pacing into the living room. “I have no idea. She has a huge network of people she could be in touch with, we both do. She’s always out with someone.”
That makes Molly pause, and I can see why. I step into the living room with her.
“Okay, so it would be unusual for her to be alone.”
“...but if something happened to her and I don’t know about it yet, then it was either someone close to her who did it,” she winces at the thought, “or she was alo
ne for some reason.”
“Right,” I say, nodding. “So, do either of those options ring a bell?”
“I...can’t imagine,” she says, shaking her head. “She should have been with my parents on Christmas Eve, but I don’t know what her plans for the next day were. She can’t have been with my parents, because they had plans on their own, and we aren’t that close with the rest of the family. Most people don’t work around Christmas, so that rules out most of the work contacts, unless there was something going on she wasn’t telling me.”
“Does she live alone?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “She lives with a couple of other models--Stella and Taylor. They’re about her age, but they don’t do anything on screen, I don’t think, they’re full-time models.”
“So not likely suspects,” I say.
“God no,” she says. “I’d try to get in touch with them, but they’re definitely out of town for Christmas. I remember Andie saying something about the apartment being empty for a little bit and giving her some breathing space.”
I nod. “So we don’t have any leads and don’t know who she might have talked to last.”
“And it’s the day after Christmas,” she adds, slumping on my couch and burying her face in her hands, “so anyone who works in information is probably shut down still.”
We’re silent for a few moments before I bring up the elephant in the room that’s only obvious to me. “Well, that leaves us with one obvious option.”
She looks up, and I look down at her.
“But you’re not gonna like it.”
“If someone finds out about this, I’ll never live it down.”
I smile. “Then we’ll be careful.”
We’re driving up to the security guard box at the gate of the neighborhood where Andie and her roommates live.
Rock Hard Bodyguard Page 11