BODYGUARD - Part One (The BODYGUARD Series, Book 1) (7 page)

I am sitting astride him, and his cock is snuggled deep inside me. I don't want it to end, not ever. This is so good it is almost unfair the rest of the world can't ascend to this bliss that is almost unreal. He moves a little, and inside me the sensation is exquisite. I open my eyes in shock, and he is smiling.

"You like?"

"Oh, yeah. You?"

"Yep."

As he says the word, he pushes harder, deeper, and I close my eyes again, lose myself to the moment. I am surrounded by nothingness. There is Jamie, and there is me. We are one. I reach an orgasm, and I writhe around his shaft that refuses to submit. This guy is tough. His cock is like a steel rod. Maybe it was his training in the SEALs. Do they teach them things like that? Somehow, I don't think so.

I come down from the climax. Yet there is no time to draw breath, he's bringing me back. Up, up, to that high peak that is the ultimate frontier of our lovemaking. He grunts as his cock drives in and out of the depths of my sex. The rhythm is at once powerful and delicate. I don't know how that can be, it just is. I feel myself rising, rising, it's almost like I'm flying, and then I'm there.

Someone is screaming, a shout of joy and passion. It's me. His climax is powerful, and I feel his warm semen squirt inside me. I hope he remembered a condom. He stops, frozen, holds it in there as long as he can. Then he withdraws it, slow, so slow, and I almost start again. He moves to the side of me, and I turn to trace my fingers along his well-defined six-pack. We are surrounded by an odor of sweat and passion, and it is a powerful mix. He folds his arms around me and says my name.

“Tiffany, would you do something for me?”

“Again? Sure, give me a minute to catch my breath.”

He uses his hands to push me a few inches away. We make eye contact. “Not that. You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“Is that a problem?”

He chuckles. “No. Except now, I need a favor.”

“You want a blow job?”

He shakes his head. “What I want is to hear that song you wrote. The one about water.”

“Well? You picked up my message on your voicemail.”

“That’s right. You’ll be great. There’s nothing to worry about.” His eyes bore into mine. “You have to do this, Tiff. For me.”

I give him a hesitant nod. I could mean anything.

“I want to come to the theater and watch. If that wouldn’t put you off your stride.”

He’s assuming I’ll do it. I’ll cross that bridge later. “If you want.”

“I do. There’s something else.”

Now he wants the blowjob?

“Your song, the one that's called 'Well.' I’d like to listen.”

I panic. I can’t sing, not now. Not after that. Not anytime, not in front of another person. What if I freeze? I’ll be a laughing stock. “Jamie, I can’t. Please…”

His face is gentle, and I see understanding there. “I know you’re not ready. I didn’t mean for you to sing. I'd like you to say the words. Like a poem.”

He puts his hand on my inner thigh, and he strokes me. I shiver. “Jamie…”

His hand slides higher, until it rests a half-inch from my clit. “For me.”

What can I do? “Okay.”

I recite the words from memory.

“Deep water, fresh and pure. A dream.

When I go to the creek, hard clay greets me.

I return home to parched throats.

When will it come? The well.”

I finish the song, and there is silence. I wait, and he says, “You took me to that distant country. I wanted to help those people.”

“That’s the idea.” I smile with relief that he didn’t laugh.

He smiles back. “You need to practice, every day. Make sure you put your name forward for the audition. Promise me.”

His hand has slipped inside me, and his light touch is like a lightning bolt to my aroused flesh. “Yes,” I whisper.

“There’s slight problem, Tiffany. I may not be able to get here so often.”

Uh, uh, life lifts you high in the sky, and then drops you onto the jagged rocks. I wait for him to explain.

“It’s just a work thing. This client needs a bodyguard from eight until eight, overnight. She insisted it was me.”

“She?”

“Erin, you know. The singer.”

Why Jamie? “I know.”

The gorgeous celeb that stared at me for a brief second in the Waldorf.

“I’ll sleep through the day, and if there’s time, I’ll call around in the evening before I go on shift. I won’t make it every day.”

“Okay.”

He climbs to his feet. “You need a shower?”

“I what?” I can hardly believe my ears.

“Take a shower, and sing to yourself. Pretend I’m not here.”

I hold out for a bit, but he persuades me. I stand underneath the running water, close my mind to everything. To my work, my friends, even Jamie. And I sing. After the final note slips out of my mouth, I see him standing in the doorway. He claps his hands.

“That was sensational. If I was Erin, I’d be worried about the competition.”

I start to protest, but he interrupts me. “Is there room for two in there?”

I see he is erect again. I smile and beckon. “There’s even room for that.”

Afterward, I have an idea. I’ll find somewhere quiet, a remote park outside the city. When I know I’m alone, I’ll open my mouth and sing. My audience will be the trees. Waving strands of grass, and the birds that fly overhead. No human witness to snigger if I fail.

I think I may have made a start.

I have found a quiet space, in Manhattan. More than quiet, it’s one place I can be alone. I take the A Train to Inwood Hill Park and thread my way across the grass and through the trees to a spot close to the Henry Hudson Bridge. I am alone. For the first time, I can open my mouth and sing to the rooftops. Outside my apartment, that is. I can see squirrels in the trees. Watching me. And yeah, sometimes they cock their heads, so I know they're listening. If I mess up, I know they won't laugh.

Today I am in the audition theater. Jamie fixed up for me to get in some time before they open for the evening. I hold a microphone and look out at rows of seats. Only one is occupied. Jamie. He smiles, and I feel reassured. It is time to begin, and so I nod to the musicians who share the stage with me. They play the opening bars of my song. I close my eyes, open my mouth, and start to sing.

At first, I hold back, my throat needs to warm up. After a minute, I sense I am ready. I breathe deep, and up the volume. The words soar over the empty auditorium, circle the theater, and come back to me; a big, full sound that has strength and passion. In my mind, I picture the African village. The parched ground, hungry people, and men are digging, and soon, fresh, cool water comes out of the ground. They clap and cheer. They will be thirsty no more. I open my eyes.

And almost freeze. Another guy is with Jamie. Older, he wears tinted glasses and an expensive leather jacket. My voice wobbles, but I get to the end. Jamie and the stranger applaud, and even the musicians give me a ragged cheer. I sit on the edge of the stage, and they join me.

Jamie smiles. "That was outstanding." He gives me a kiss, and the touch of his lips calms my frayed nerves. "This is Stanley Everton. I brought him along to hear his opinion. He's an agent. We sometimes meet when I'm working."

He means bodyguarding celebs. The agents are never far behind, I know. We shake hands.

"Call me Stanley. Your boyfriend is right. You're a great singer. You wrote that song?"

I run a hand through my hair, a nervous reaction. "Sure."

"Outstanding. If you want representation, I'm here to offer it to you. If you don't pass the audition, I tear up the paperwork. If you do, I can put you up there with the stars." I am about to say no, but he adds the clincher. "When you're famous, you may need a bodyguard like Jamie to take care of you."

A bodyguard. I picture myself in a revealing gown, with handsome Jamie at my side. Forget Erin Best, I will be his best client. "Where do I sign?"

We leave the theater to find a coffee bar. Jamie is happy, but what have I done? When I sing at that audition, they won't be squirrels in the audience. They'll be real people. Can I do this without freezing? I must. There is a future laid out for me, like the red carpet outside the Waldorf Astoria. I will walk it. I will!

He touches my hand. "Are you happy?"

I put my other hand over his. "I think so. You?"

He pulls me close and leans over to kiss me. "More than I can remember."

"I couldn't have done it if you weren't there."

He waves away the comment. "That's crap. Up there on the stage, you were all you. Not me, not anyone else. Tiffany Durham."

I feel pleased. Scared, but pleased. "You taking me home?"

He checks his watch, and his brow furrows. "Not today, sorry. I have some paperwork I need to finish, and they want me to make an early start. Sorry, gorgeous, I don't have a choice."

I force a smile on my lips. "Erin Best?"

"Uh, yeah, she asked for me again. She’s paranoid, said some crazy was staking out her apartment building. It’s okay. I’ll make sure nobody gets near her. By the way, your friend Emily will be there as well, doing Erin's makeup and nails."

Emily? It's our day off, the day we chill out together. Not today, because of the theater thing. I don't recall her saying anything about working. Cozy. Erin Best and Emily Blake, two girls who are outstandingly pretty and slim. I think of Emmie, the lithe, pretty physical therapist. Three knockout girls, and all connected to Jamie. How strong is the bond between us. Is it strong enough?

I grin, but it is not easy. "Don't wear yourself out. Save something for me."

"Always." His eyes are thoughtful, "Tiffany, we can't go on like this."

I've never been hit by a truck, but if I was, I now know what it would feel like."

"What do you mean?"

His arm comes around me. Strong. Protective. "I have something I've been meaning to say."

I wait. I can't speak. I can't breathe. It is a frozen moment in time.

"I've fallen for you. Totally. I think of you every waking moment. Sometimes I dream about you. About the things we do together."

"Things."

A chuckle. "You know. The kind of stuff we do best."

He means when we fuck. I feel the same way. The earth stops and there's just the two of us. Floating on a sea of pleasure.

"I know."

I decide next time he calls around I'll make sure. I'll give him something to make absolutely certain he never forgets what a good thing we are. Together.

I touch his smooth skin, and it almost feels like plastic. He is sitting on my couch, and I am kneeling over him. It's our favorite position; somehow it feels deeper that way. Deep is good. I look down, and his hard shaft is sticking up like a baseball bat. We are waiting, and I don't think I can take much more. It's a game, how long we can hold out. I usually lose.

His eyes meet mine. "Give in?"

I give an agonized shake of my head. I want you now, Jamie. Stick that long, iron-hard length joy pole inside me. Fuck me until I beg for mercy.

"No."

A minute goes past. Then I heard him say, "Tiffany."

"Yep."

"I give in."

"Okay." I lower myself over him, and gasp as he enters me, and goes deep, deep, deep. When he's all the way in, I wriggle my hips, and he groans. He likes it when I surround him and make a circular motion. He says it stimulates his cock even more. How could he want more when he has me?

We settle into a rhythm, and I start on my journey to the stars. My eyes are closed, but I sense movement, and when I open one eye, he is looking at his wristwatch.

"Tiffany, I don't have much time."

It is mid afternoon. I did an early shift this morning and promised to go back on duty for the evening. It means I have time with Jamie. Or I thought I did.

"How much time?"

I wriggle some more, so he knows what he'll miss.

"About an hour."

"We'll make it."

He grips my shoulders, and my eyes fly open. "What?"

"I need a shower. I have to go to work, and if my skin smells like..."

"You've visited a whorehouse?" I smile so he doesn't feel it's an insult.

"No, smelling of sex. You know about my job, the kind of people I deal with."

"But you have just had sex. Well, we're having it now."

He cups my chin in his big strong had. "I know that. You're the most wonderful girl I've ever known, and I don't want to be anywhere else. It's just, my job. They're relying on me."

I think of a way to please him more. "Tell you what. Why don't we do this in the shower?" I smile, "It'll save time. But you'll have to carry me."

"Like this?"

"Like this."

"Okay then."

He lifts me up, and he is still inside me. It almost blows my mind, and when we reach the shower, I am his sex slave for all time. It can't be this good, people would do it all the time. I would. He steps into the shower cubicle, still carrying me. The water cascades over us, and I use a free hand to soap him down.

I've never tried soaping down a man when he's holding me in his arms. Not with a huge cock stuck inside me, and I'm dying of passion and lust. My hand touches a scar on his back. It's one I haven't noticed before.

"Jamie, what is this?"

"Something I picked up in Afghanistan." His voice is hoarse. I think he has something else on his mind.

"Was it a bullet?"

"Uh, huh. Taliban sniper."

"Poor you. Was it bad?"

A pause. We are still fucking, but he has slowed as he thinks. "It was bad. Bullet went deep, and they had to medevac me back to base in a helo."

"Helo?"

"Helicopter."

"Right. Any other wounds?"

"I got hit in the heart."

Now my eyes are wide open. "You did?"

"Yep, by a pretty girl. She's right here."

I wriggle, and this time he groans louder. I sense he is close, very close. Or maybe he's late for work. Either way, he holds me tighter, his cock rams into me even harder, and I feel my arousal peak. I come a couple of seconds before him, and I shriek with joy. Then he comes, and for that brief moment in time, we are one. We are joined. Together.

He's still holding me, and I want to know about his parents. I ask him what they thought about him fighting in Afghanistan. Were they very worried?

"They're dead."

"Oh."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

No reply. We stay for a minute longer to wash off the soap, and he carries me outside the shower and puts me down.

"That was something," he gives me that lazy grin, "You could drive a guy crazy like that. We'll do it again, real soon."

I have an idea. "Sure. Jamie, why don’t we shower in your apartment? Maybe I could call around and surprise you. Send you to work with a smile."

His expression darkens. I have said something wrong, but I don't know what.

"You can't do that."

"I can't?"

"No. There was a legal problem with my apartment contract, and I had to vacate. It was in someone else's name. I'm bunking with a friend."

I do not want to, but ask just the same. "So who are you staying with?"

Please don't say the last name in the world I want to hear. Please, please, please!

"Emmie. She offered me her spare room. It's just until I get fixed up. You don't mind?"

He touches my lips. He knows that's what I like. Not this time. I keep my voice level. "Of course not. Why would I?"

"No reason. Hey, I'll call round tomorrow. You up for this again?"

But I shake my head. "I'm working tomorrow." His face falls, and I can't resist a final shot, "You know what it's like, don't you?"