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Eventually, Xander Hale happened. Becoming that kid’s bodyguard was a bright spot in my life. Not because I could see more of the world, but because I still had a hand in protecting someone else’s. It’s what fuels me. I’m strong to protect the soft.
Her breezy voice and distinctive way of speaking is like honey dripping down my throat.
It’s my job to make her life safe. It’s not my job to imagine tasting her words against my tongue while I push deep inside—don’t.
It’s not my job to think about what she’d taste like if I spread her legs. I have pictured it, and I’ll do a hundred deadlifts as punishment for even thinking about her pussy.
“I want to make you an unbreakable promise,” I tell her. “Do you do blood oaths?” “Oh no, no blood.” She smiles. “These days, we Cobalts shake on spit.” I would’ve even shaken on blood. Good to go.
Eight months later, I know I’m in deep, but I can control myself and my nine-inch cock.
alright big guy we get it, you have a huge cock to match your huge body
In another life, I’d wrap myself up in the powerful heavenliness of Thatcher Moretti, like he’s my warrior archangel prepared to blanket me with his twelve-foot wingspan. All before he hoists me up around—
“You look…impressively big in my car,” I confess, confronting embarrassment like blasting a slingshot at my own forehead. I possess the unfortunate inability to run away from my own mortification.
It could be much, much worse. I could’ve said, Oh God, Thatcher, I’m dripping wet right now. You’ve soaked me like Niagara Falls. Please, please plunge your sinful tongue inside of me.
Thatcher suddenly rips the frilly lace right off its seams. In one motion, it’s gone. My ovaries just exploded. And my lips rise in a small smile. I give him my other arm. “Again, please.”
Thatcher is like a sacred text. I’m tempted to rush through the pages, but something has compelled me to draw out each line, each word. Reading so slowly and carefully so as to never miss a syllable. So a single book, a single person, could last me forever.
“You’re most surely going to hell, Jane,” I whisper more softly to myself. Two out of my five brothers will certainly be there, so at least I won’t be alone. But knowing Tom and Eliot, those two menaces will destroy all eternal pits of fiery damnation the second they enter. There will be no hell left for me to even occupy.
I would much rather cheer in the stands and watch Sulli win an Olympic gold than ever hope she loses. I can’t imagine rooting against people I love.
I won’t devalue her achievements just to find value in myself. My mom is brilliant and beautiful. And so am I. Just in my own way.
“…thank you.” I pat his firm chest, not just once, but thrice.
I know who I am, but sometimes, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
Jane Cobalt is smart as all hell, and the whole world knows that fact. But I’m fortunate enough that I get to see all of who she is on a daily basis.
It’s a heinous power-move that deserves booing and tomato-throwing.”
I think everything Samantha does deserves booing and tomato throwing actually
“I can’t know for sure, but I’ll take care of it.” I straighten up to a towering stance. “I’ve got your six, always.”
She’s living inside some type of modern age battlefield. Which is the only reason she needs a soldier. The only reason she needs me.
But my biggest irritation is the radio. Omega uses comms like a gossip network or complaint hotline. It was fucking painful during the FanCon. Banks and I say that it’s 104.1 Call-In-Your-Bullshit channel.
Intrigue drops her gaze to my unshaved chest
why would it be SHAVED keep that sexy man chest hair
“Take it.” I nod to the half-gallon. “I can get more later.” It’s either going to her six cats or a cereal bowl, and her cats are more important than one of the guys eating Frosted Flakes.
Jane deserves the full hundred yards from me. Not just a fucking millimeter.
my breath comes out like I’ve jogged five-miles around the block. In practicality, that’s five-miles more than I would ever jog.
If I remove some bias, then I’m left with facts, and those facts are that I don’t need more from anyone. Not love, not sex, not anything in between,
I don’t prefer leading anyone anywhere. It’s a terrible pressure to make decisions for large groups.
Maximoff—my compassionate, stubborn, strong-willed best friend with a great aversion to big life changes—was willing to complicate his world by letting Farrow in.
He’s given my best friend more, and somehow, he’s given me more, too. I feel as though I’ve gained another confidante, another ally, another defender and secret-keeper from the perils of our chaotic world. I think Farrow is a beautiful person inside and out, and I will never desire to go backwards. To a time where he’s not with us. To just me and Maximoff. Our worlds are more full of life with him here.
But after much consideration, I’ve learned to love my body. Because it’s mine and there is only one of me.
I don’t have all the right curves in the right places. I am chubby. But I love my belly rolls, and I adore my love handles and my flat pancake-like ass that’s dimpled with cellulite. The more I love myself, the more I feel a warm, invisible hug wrap around my body. Better.
Maximoff almost reddens, not in embarrassment. We are all so very flushed these days.
He unravels my best friend in such small moments. I can’t help but watch with an infectious smile.
My brothers think I should change the requirements of the ad. Make “twelve-inch dick” a prerequisite and weed out everyone, and while funny, it’d only cause more headaches and bad press.
He feigns surprise. “I totally forgot you can’t count. I’m sorry, man.”
“I’m guessing she only thinks bad press is good press when it’s convenient for her.”
‼️‼️‼️
This feels like that one time where I told Jane I’d help her find another guy to provide her “oral assistance”—when I was right there and she would’ve been willing. That was like running a 99-yard touchdown for the wrong team. Knowing I had to score for someone else. Wanting to turn around every inch gained on the field. Pretty much hell.
Imagining Jane falling in love with other men punctures something hot in me and I need to think of brighter things before I pop a blood vessel. Puppies. Rainbows. Pussy. God, Jane is right in front of me. Maybe not pussy.
“Hopefully they’ll disperse and we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming.” Maximoff feigns confusion. “What is that again?” “Glorious dumpster fires on Tuesdays,” I say theatrically. He nods strongly. “Shit storms every other Friday.” I smile at him. “And we can’t forget the evening apocalypse.” Maximoff smiles back. “Jesus, we’ve survived the apocalypse. It’s like we’re pros at this already.” “That we are, old chap.” I mime tipping a top hat to him.
Thatcher is a soldier. Tremendously tall. He’s physically a powerhouse, a supreme godly and angelic being who is built to protect and defend. I see so clearly that this is where he wants to be. I see how much of himself he’s willing to give to keep my family safe. I’d just like to be next to him. To be a wingwoman. His confidante. His right-hand. I want to slip into his back pocket.
“How are you feeling?” Thatcher drops his voice another cavernous octave. “The same.” He holds my gaze much more securely. “I feel a strong responsibility to you.”
“Give it to him sloppy,” Donnelly smirks. “Ignore Donnelly,” Oscar tells Jack. “You’ll feel smarter.” Donnelly scoops pudding with his finger. “Ignoring Oscar makes your dick feel bigger.”
“Who bought a hundred banana cream pie pudding cups? Literally, a hundred.” Quinn scrunches his face and hoists a plastic bag at the table. Oscar tosses a chip in his mouth. “Who do you think? There’s only one guy who’s eating that shit.” Donnelly is crushing the cup, squeezing pudding in his mouth.
I was raised in a family with parents and siblings who love to be right. The ego of my dad alone could fill the entire Milky Way.
Thatcher. Thatcher. Thatcher. His name is a heartbeat in my head.
“I’d do anything to keep you safe, Jane,” he says deeply and without falter. I hear what he just told me: I feel a strong responsibility to you.
“I know what I’m stepping into,” I say with severity. “No cost is greater than the cost of your life.”
Oh and one more: buried beneath all these professional restrictions and complications, I want to bring her to the edge with orgasms so fucking intense they eke out her energy and sink her to sleep.
“When we say no sex, maybe we should be more specific.” I never flinch. “Specifically, my cock isn’t going inside your pussy.”
There is only one of Jane, no other person can be all of who she is, and anyone who harasses this girl might as well be tearing the wings off an angel. I’m honored that I get to be the one to keep her safe.
