A/N- iâm 3 days late but thatâs okay. Happy belated to my baby and enjoy!
cw- oral (f receiving), face sitting (f receiving), praise kink, unprotected piv (donât do this!) riding, spanking(slight), tyriq is a loverboy.
You and Tyriq stumbled into the semi dark hotel room, bumping into each other and giggling. You two had just gotten back from Tyriqâs birthday dinner where yâall both got tipsy and touchy which led to calling an uber to leave early.
Leaving his own birthday party to fuck was crazy but neither of you cared at the moment.
As soon as Tyriq closed the door with his foot he began to start walking you towards the bed. Once the back of your legs hit the bed, he pushed you down onto it.
âRemember what you promised me?â He asked while leaning down to hover over you.
A few weeks ago, Tyriq asked if for his birthday, youâd sit on his face.
It was something youâd always felt opposed to but with some liquid courage and your manâs encouragementâŠYou were down.
âYes.â You nodded your head and scooted up the bed.
Tyriq followed you up the bed, stripping his clothes as he went. Once he made it to his dress shirt, he started to fumble with the buttons.
âYou taking too damn long to unbutton that shirt.â You burst out into laughter with him falling into laughter right with you.
âAh fuck it.â
After a few more attempts, he gave up and left the shirt half unbuttoned. He started crawling over to reclaim his position on top of you.
âYou sure you wanna do this?â The softness in his voice was definitely a contrast from the look in his eyes. He stared down at your designer dress and how it fit your figure so well, he just wanted to eat you upâwell he was about to.
âIâm sure.â
The second the words left your mouth, he wrapped his arm around your waist and flipped you so you were straddling his chest. You reached for the hem of your dress but he pulled your hands away from the hem.
âKeep it on, and get up here.â Tyriq couldnât wait any longer. You shifted higher, giving him more reach to touch the pink lacy panties you had on. âSo pretty. You wore these fâme?â
âI did. Do you like it?â
âMhm I do.â A loud rrrip went throughout the room. He ripped your panties straight down the middle.
âTyriq! I thought I told you to stop doing tha-â A sharp smack to your ass cut you off.
âShut up and put that pussy on my face.â He wasnât asking, he was telling. And what did you do? You listened. He formed a tight grip on your hips as he pulled you down onto his face.
He aligned your pussy with his mouth and you didnât hesitate to close the distance.
Tyriq didnât waste any time licking from your sopping hole to your clit with his slick pink tongue. Almost immediately, you regretted not doing this any sooner. He always ate you out but the feeling of being on top of him like this was something out of this world.
The room was silent except for your heavy breathing and the sound of Tyriqâs mouth lapping and sucking up all of your juices.
âFuck, we shouldâve been did this.â You looked down at him and his darkened eyes and how drunk he lookedânot just off of the alcohol you drank earlierâoff of the taste of your pussy.
He hummed against you as a response and pulled back momentarily. âI told you baby.â His voice came out lower and rougher than he last spoke. His enjoyment in giving you pleasure was evident by the way his bulge strained against his jeans.
Tyriq moved you up some more and you felt his tongue slide into your pussy, making you gasp. You could feel him swirling and flicking his tongue inside of you like he was trying to scoop out your orgasm.
You couldnât help but start rocking your hips against his mouth. A soft yelp left your mouth when his nose nudged against your clit.
âSo perfectâŠâ You whispered and groped your breast through your dress. Tyriq didnât seem to be complaining about his position so you sped up the movement of your hips.
The hums deepened into moans and you looked back over your shoulder to see him rutting against the air. You faced forward again and locked eyes with his hungry stare.
He dragged your hips up and down his mouth, quickening the speed at which they moved. One hand scratched at his low cut hair while the other remained on your breast.
âYouâre enjoying this way too much.â A breathless laugh left your mouth watching Tyriq close his eyes, relishing in your pleasure and making you feel good.
He smiled against you and held your hips down while he sucked on your clit. âOh thatâs it Ty!â Your body stuttered and you clawed at his scalp even more.
Just as you were about to reach your peak, he pulled away and moved you onto his chest. âW-What?â Your brows furrowed, thighs shaking, and chest heaving.
âYou not coming nowhere but my dick right now.â He grumbled and moved you to his lap before sitting up against the headboard. His arms wrapped around your waist to undo his jeans and pull himself out of his underwear.
He wasted no time pulling you flush against his chest and lining his dick up with your pussy and dragging you down onto him.
âThis pussy is so warm and wet baby.â He was hardly 3 inches in and he was already losing it. Slowly but surely you sank all the way down onto him, swallowing his thick cock whole.
Tyriq grabbed your ass cheeks and started to guide you up and down his cock. A sniffled moan left your mouth as you two fell into a rhythm.
Your hands flew to his shoulders for stability while he bounced you on his cock. âSo deep.â A raspiness left your throat as skin clapped against skin and Tyriq let out a guttural groan right against your neck.
âI love this dick.â Your nails were digging into his shoulders as this point but if anything, it turned him on.
âMhm you do, my love?â One of his hands moved from your ass to grip your jaw, forcing direct eye contact. You nodded the best you could but he wasnât taking that for an answer.
âSpeak up.â He planted his feet on the bed and slammed up into you. âYou love this dick?â
âYes!â You exclaimed with a moan, back arching and toes curling. It was like the sound of your wet pussy plopping on him got louder the more he spoke to you.
âThatâs my good girl. Keep riding me just like that.â He looked you up and down like you were a 5 course meal. He stopped your hips for a split second just to pull your dress over your head.
âNeeded to see this body. So pretty, so mine.â A gasp left your mouth when he wrapped his lips around your nipple while he pinched and pulled at your other one.
While he was sucking on your boobs, he continued his thrust up into you. He was holding you so lovingly while fucking you like he hated you.
The pleasure was getting to be too much. You were reaching your climax sooner than expected which is exactly what Tyriq wanted.
He felt the way you tightened around him, and the way your moans got pitchier. He pulled off your nipple, leaving it covered in saliva.
âNeed you to cum for me.â His voice came out a bit shaky, as if he was on the verge of release with you. His thumb trailed down your stomach until it reached your twitching neglected clit.
He almost immediately got to work and started rubbing it in rough circles. âI love you so much.â You whimpered and grabbed his face and leaned forward to kiss him.
Your tongues and teeth clashed together messily. His thrusts never faltered or slowed. He was gonna bring you to that orgasm no matter what.
You pulled back with a string of saliva disconnecting from your lips as well. âIâm about to cum,â you threw your head back towards the ceiling and started to bounce yourself.
âYou so pretty when youâre right on the edge. Look at me.â He tapped your cheek. You looked back down at him and how intense his gaze was.
âIâm gonna cum for you baby.â Your lips quivered as you pulsed around him, signaling how close you were. âIâm right there with you, honey. Let it all out for me.â
After a few more rough thrusts, a rush of pleasure ran up your spine. Your eyes fluttered shut and nails dug into the back of his neck as you came.
At the same time, Tyriq buried himself inside you, spilling loads deep while holding your hips down against him.
After about a minute of panting and heavy breathing, Tyriq slid out of you and pulled you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.
A light sheen of sweat coated his body and you could feel his heart beating right where yours was. He kissed the top of your head.
âBest birthday gift ever.â Laughter erupted from the two of you as you sat in silence with each other.
The next morning hangs heavy in the air, NolĂĄna's silence a wall between them thicker than the fortress walls Jackson's been building around her home. She moves through the kitchen like a ghost, pouring coffee without a glance his way, her attitude snapping back into placeâarms crossed, lips pursed, eyes anywhere but on him. Jackson feels the sting of it, the regret from last night twisting in his gut, but duty calls. He retreats to his temporary office for a two-hour Zoom with the head of DSS, updating on the stalker's patterns, the breached security logs, and the upgrades in progress. "Keep her safe, Brooks," the director says before signing off. "No slip-ups." Anderson's on watch duty, posted by the door with a nod from Jacksonâreliable guy, but even he can't predict a firecracker like NolĂĄna.
When Jackson emerges, the house is too quiet, the kind of stillness that sets his teeth on edge. No music blasting from her studio, no clatter from the kitchen. He strides to the living room where George lounges on the couch, scrolling his phone. "George, where is she?" Jackson demands, voice low and edged.
George looks up, blinking. "She went out... you didn't know? She said you approved an outing."
"WHAT?" Jackson barks, fists clenching at his sides, heat rising in his chest.
Before he can fully unleash, the front door swings open. NolĂĄna breezes in, arms loaded with glossy shopping bags, Anderson and Roman trailing behind with more, their faces sheepish under the weight. She drops her haul on the coffee table with a dramatic flourish, flipping her hair like nothing's amiss.
"Ma'am, where did you go today?" Jackson says, pissed, his green eyes narrowing as he steps closer.
"Out!" she fires back, chin lifted, defiance sparkling in her dark eyes.
"Without proper authorization and prep! What the hell were you thinking?" He barks, voice booming through the room, his muscular frame towering over her.
She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. "Oh my god, I'm in one piece! God forbid I wanted to hang with my girls and go shopping." Her attitude is sky-high, laced with spiteâshe's doing this to twist the knife from last night, to make him feel the burn of her rejection mirrored back.
He cuts his eyes at Anderson and Roman, who shift uncomfortably, bags still in hand. "You two! Y'all know better! Y'all cannot just take her anywhere!" Jackson barks, pointing a finger at them, his authoritative tone brooking no argument. "This isn't a joyrideâthis is a high-threat detail. You clear every move with me, or you're off the team. Anderson, you're supposed to be her shadow, not her chauffeur. Roman, same goesâyou drive where I say, when I say. Get your heads in the game, or I'll have you both reassigned by end of day. Understood?"
Anderson nods quickly, setting down the bags. "Yes, sir. Won't happen again."
Roman mutters, "My bad, Brooks. She said it was cleared."
"Excuses don't cut it," Jackson snaps. "Out. Both of you. Debrief with George and wait for my call." They exchange glances but hustle out, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving the room thick with unresolved tension.
It's quiet now, just the two of them, the air charged like before a storm. Bags rustle as NolĂĄna starts unpacking, ignoring the elephant in the room. Jackson takes a breath, forcing calm into his voice. "NolĂĄna..." he says, stepping closer, his tone softer, almost pleading.
She doesn't look up, rifling through a bag.
"You can't just scare me like that." He tries, hands flexing at his sides.
She ignores it, pulling out a shimmering bottle of lotion. "Ouuu, this is gon' look good on my skin," she murmurs to herself, twisting the cap.
"NolĂĄna? I know you're upset with me about last night, but I really think we need to talk." He tries again, voice steady but insistent.
She ignores him, the previous anger bubbling up in him like a pot about to boil over. "So you not gon' speak?" he asks, professionalism cracking at the edges.
"I ain't got shit to say to you, Brooks. You want professionalism? You got it." She snaps back, the rejection from last night still raw, sitting heavy on her heart like a bruise.
He groans, patience fraying. "We need to talk. I feel I need to apologize, and you not hearing me out."
"Leave me the hell alone and worry about me not getting killed." She says, turning to another bag, her back to him.
That's itâhe snaps. Professionalism gone, evaporated in the heat of her defiance and his own pent-up frustration. He's had it with her fucking mouth and disobedience, the way she pushes every button like it's her job. In one swift move, his hands grip her waist, hoisting her up and tossing her over his broad shoulder like she weighs nothing. Some bags tumble from her grasp, spilling onto the floor.
"Let me fucking go, Brooks! I fucking hate you!" she yells, pounding his back with her fists, legs kicking, but there's fire in her voice mixed with something elseâarousal flickering despite the anger.
He doesn't stop, marching all the way to her bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them. He locks it with a click, then drops her roughly onto the king-sized bed. She bounces once, glaring up at him, chest heaving. The short dress she wore out has ridden up, bunching at her waist, revealing she's got no panties onâher smooth, bare pussy exposed, already glistening faintly from the adrenaline rush.
He looks at her, eyes darkening with hunger and fury. She's turned on, nipples hardening under the thin fabric, but still mad, cheeks flushed with a mix of emotions.
"What? Don't look and want my pussy now. You made it real clear last night where we staâoh my god, Jackson!" She's cut off mid-sentence as he dives in, crossing the room so fast she didn't see it coming, too busy stewing in her anger. His hands pin her thighs apart, mouth latching onto her pussy without warning, tongue plunging straight into her wet folds.
"Sense of awareness is still trash, ma'am," he growls against her clit, the vibration sending shocks through her.
Her back arches off the bed, fingers twisting in his short hair. "Mmmm fuck!" she breathes out, hips bucking involuntarily.
He devours her like a man starved, tongue lashing her clit in firm, circling strokes before sucking it hard between his lips, pulling moans from her throat. His hands knead her thick thighs, spreading her wider as he laps at her entrance, tasting her sweetness, the slick heat coating his chin. "This what you been hiding under that dress all day? Teasing me while you out there risking your neck?" he murmurs, voice muffled as he thrusts his tongue deep inside her, fucking her with it, curling to hit that spot that makes her gasp.
"Jacksonâoh shit, yes!" she cries, her anger melting into desperate need, pussy clenching around nothing as he alternates between broad licks and pinpoint flicks on her swollen nub. He groans into her, the sound rumbling through her core, one finger sliding in to join his tongue, pumping slow and deep while he sucks harder. Her juices flood his mouth, and he drinks her down, relentless, not letting up until her body tenses, thighs quivering around his head.
"Cum for me, NolĂĄna. Let it go," he demands, adding a second finger, scissoring them inside her tight walls.
She shatters, back bowing, a sharp cry escaping as her orgasm crashes over her, pussy pulsing, soaking his face.
He stands then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on hers as he strips. Shirt off first, revealing his chiseled abs and broad chest, then pants and boxers shoved down, his thick dick springing free, hard and veined, tip already leaking pre-cum. NolĂĄna kicks off her heels and peels the dress over her head, baring her full breasts and curves, nipples dark and peaked.
"Iâm finna show you what happens when you donât fucking listen," he says, voice rough with need. If this is the only way sheâll listen, so be itâwho is he fooling? He wants her just as bad, has since day one. He climbs onto the bed, grabbing her ankles and folding her legs back toward her shoulders, exposing her completely. His dick notches at her entrance, and he thrusts in fast and deep, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
She gasps, eyes widening, her pussy stretching around his girth. He drills into her relentlessly, hips snapping forward, pounding her with short, powerful strokes that hit deep, his balls slapping against her ass. She's a whimpering mess already, words dissolving into broken moans and cries, her hands clutching the sheets. "AhâJackson! Fuckâtoo much!"
"You hard-headed as fuck! This what you wanted? Huh? Where that loud-ass mouth go, mamas? You was talking all that fucking shit, now all you can do is cry." He picks up the pace, slamming harder, the bed creaking under them, his muscles flexing with each drive.
Tears of overwhelm and pleasure streak her cheeks as she runs from the dick, hips twisting to escape the intensity. Her hand comes up shakily, pushing at his hip. "Nah, move that hand!" he growls, batting it away, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
"Itâsâitâs too big, baby, too big!" she cries out, her pussy clenching as she cums on his dick for the third time already, walls fluttering wildly around him, milking his length.
"You knew that when you decided to piss me off. Take this fucking dick like a good girl." He leans down, kissing all over her neck, sucking marks into her skin, then capturing her lips in a messy, devouring kiss, tongues tangling as he keeps thrusting through her climax.
"Iâm tryna do right by you, and you gonâ leave this house without me knowing? You out your damn mind, girl. Say youâre sorry to daddy!" He flips her suddenly, manhandling her onto her knees in doggy, gripping her hips and digging deeper into her pussy, the new angle letting him bottom out, dickhead kissing her cervix.
She lets out a strangled moan, face pressed into the pillows, ass up as he smacks her fat cheek, the sting blooming red. "Come on, tell daddy youâre sorry, mamas."
"Iâm sorry, daddy. IâI'll fuck! Iâll listen, oh god, please, can I cum? Fuck, Iâm sorry!" she moans, voice breaking, body trembling on the edge.
"Yea, cum on this dick, baby. I know you sorry." He coos, one hand sliding around to rub her clit, pushing her over.
She squirts hard, juices gushing around his dick, soaking the sheets as her body shakes violently, cries turning to sobs of ecstasy. Jackson follows, burying deep and cumming hard, ropes of hot seed flooding her pussy, his groans mixing with hers as he pulses inside her.
After, they collapse, breaths syncing as she cuddles into his side, blissful and spent, head on his chest. His arm wraps around her, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.
"Now can I talk and apologize for last night?" he asks, voice soft.
She nods, tilting her head up with a teasing smile. "Yes, sir."
He chuckles, pulling her closer, the tension finally easing into something warmer.
They lay tangled in the sheets, sweat cooling on their skin, NolĂĄna's head resting on Jackson's chest as his heartbeat steadies beneath her ear. The room smells of sex and her perfume, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains in soft golden streaks. He strokes her back, thumb tracing the curve of her spine, before breaking the comfortable silence.
"If we are going to explore this, I cannot have you pull shit like this just because you are mad at me. You really could've gotten hurt today," he says, voice low and serious, green eyes searching hers when she lifts her head.
She nods, propping herself up on his chest, her full breasts brushing his skin. "I'm sorry." Her tone is sincere, the fire from earlier banked into something softer.
"You pull some fuck shit like this again and I'm gone. You hear me?" He warns, hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her lip.
She nods again, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, tongues sliding together briefly. "Yes, Jackson."
The weeks that follow settle into a rhythm that's equal parts routine and revelation. In public, they keep it professionalâNolĂĄna's still stubborn, pushing boundaries with eye rolls and sassy retorts, but Jackson eases up just enough. Give him a few days' heads up, outline the route, and she can hit the city for lunch with friends or a quick studio session, Anderson and Roman shadowing discreetly. No more sneaking out, but the leash is looser, earning him reluctant smiles from her.
Private moments? That's where the walls crumble. He'd make love to her like the clock didn't exist, bodies pressing close in the dim light of her bedroom or the guest suite he'd claimed. Slow thrusts turning urgent, her nails raking his back as he pins her down, whispering her name like a prayer. Their relationship bloomsâlate-night talks about her music, his DSS stories (the ones he can share), shared laughs over takeout he finally approves. She's opening up, vulnerability peeking through her armor, and he's hooked, the protector's instinct twisting into something deeper, possessive.
They hit the gun range twice a week, her grip on the pistol improving, stance solidifying under his guidance. "Breathe out on the trigger pull," he'd say, hands adjusting her hips, the contact lingering a beat too long, sparking heat. Sparring followsâher trying to flip him, him catching her mid-move, bodies slamming together in controlled chaos that always ends with heated kisses against the mats.
The stalker? He's a ghost now, escalating subtly. Calls come through blocked numbers, heavy breathing or distorted voices promising 'soon.' Notes slip into fan mailâ'I see you, Canary. Sing for me one last time.' He's following too, tailing their convoy from afar, a shadow in traffic Jackson spots in the rearview. It grates on him, this cat-and-mouse wearing thin. Intel digs deeper: not some obsessed fanboy. This guy's tied to an organizationâshadowy network of extremists pissed at NolĂĄna's activism, her lyrics calling out corruption, inequality. They want her silenced, kidnapped for leverage or killed outright to make an example. Jackson briefs her team, ramps up protocols, his jaw set harder each day.
One evening, over dinnerâsteak and greens he grilled himselfâhe slides a slim bracelet across the table. Silver chain with a delicate black onyx pendant, pretty enough for her wrist but packed with tech. "GPS tracker and panic button. Press it, I come running. Is that cool with you?"
She eyes it, then him, slipping it on. "Bossy as ever." But her fingers linger on his when she thanks him, pulling him into a kiss that turns the kitchen counter into their playground.
Tonight's gig at the downtown arena pulses with pre-show energyâfans chanting outside, crew hustling gear. NolĂĄna feels off, a knot in her stomach she can't shake, but the show must go on. In her dressing room, she slips into the outfit: a skimpy ensemble of black leather shorts that hug her ass like a second skin, a cropped top barely containing her breasts, fishnets up her thighs, and thigh-high boots that scream sex appeal. She checks her reflection, adjusting the choker at her neck, the bracelet glinting under the lights.
A stagehand knocks, entering with a vase of roses and an unauthorized box wrapped in plain paper. "More from fans, miss. This came with 'em."
Her gut twistsâsomething's wrong. Without a word, she slams the panic button on her bracelet. Seconds later, heavy boots thunder down the hall. Jackson bursts in, vest strapped over his black shirt, gun holstered at his hip, eyes scanning like a predator.
"Ma'am, you calledâoh shit," he says, spotting the box in the stagehand's hands.
"Where did you get that and why did you bring it back here? We specifically told y'all not to take these kinds of things from people without it being inspected. Do not move. Do not put it down." His voice is steel, commanding the kid to freeze mid-step.
He grabs NolĂĄna's shoulder, ushering her out firmly. "We can't just leave them, Brooks!" she cries, twisting to look back.
"It's okay. I'm just gonna check the box." He says, turning back, calm but coiled.
"YOU'RE GONNA CHECK IT?!?" She yells, lunging after him.
"Anderson!" Jackson barks, and strong arms haul her back, holding her steady as she protests.
He re-enters the room; a bomb squad team's already swarming, tools out, faces grim. "It's rigged. One wrong move and this room would've been decimated. We disarmed itâhere's a note." The tech hands it over, gloved fingers careful.
Jackson unfolds the paper, stomach dropping. Scrawled in jagged red ink: 'Sing your last note tonight, Canary. We'll pluck your wings and cage you foreverâor bury you under the lights. Your voice ends here. - The Silence Keepers.'
He groans, crumpling it, fury boiling. Storming to the green room where Josh, Miriam, and George huddle, he thrusts the note at them. "This is getting out of hand."
Josh scans it, paling.
"She cannot perform tonightâthey're here." Jackson states.
Josh bristles. "She has canceled four shows already because of Mr. GI Jackson and his damn precautions! We cannot cancelâthey're already lining up! This will NOT be good for the press."
"He is right," Miriam chimes in, arms crossed.
George meets Jackson's gaze, nodding subtlyâthey all know the score. "After this show, we leave immediately and go somewhere safe. That box was rigged with explosives worse than the first one she got months ago. They want her dead at this point!"
They nod, tension thick. "Heads on a swivel. She finishes this show, and then we leave."
Jackson finds her back in the dressing room, door locked behind him. She's pacing, eyes wide. "Baby?" she whispers, rushing into his arms.
"I won't let anything happen to you." He holds her tight, breathing her in.
She nods, pulling back. He rakes his gaze over her outfit, heat flickering despite the crisis. "Fuck, you look good." He teases, smirking.
"Professional, Mr. Special Agent Jackson Brooks." She smirks back, sass cutting through the fear momentarily.
"I love it when you say that." He grins, hand on her hip.
"I love this." She tugs at his vest, fingers tracing the straps over his chest.
"Oh yeah?" He leans in, but she sobers.
"You're not telling me something. The box was gonna kill me, wasn't it?"
He nods, jaw tight. "God, what the hell!" She groans, sinking onto the vanity chair.
"This is fucking with my head."
"After this show, I'm taking you somewhere safe. Somewhere that isn't connected to you in any way, shape, or form."
She nods, steeling herself. "Okay."
The arena throbs with anticipation as NolĂĄna takes the stage, spotlights bathing her in electric blue. Jackson's in the wings, first time catching her liveâheart pounding not just from the threat. She's magnetic, voice soaring through her hit single, hips swaying in those shorts, the crowd roaring. But tonight, she's dialed it up: more grind in her moves, hands trailing her curves, eyes locking on him during the sultry bridge, licking her lips as she drops low, ass popping to the beat. It's hotter, rawer, like she's performing for him alone, the sexual energy crackling across the space. Is she...? Nah, focus, he thinks, scanning the crowd, hand near his earpiece.
He spots itâa red laser dot dancing on her thigh. "Red beam, five o'clock," Anderson hisses, rushing up.
Jackson MOVES. Barreling onto the stage mid-note, he tackles her down, body shielding hers as three shots crack through the airâpop-pop-popâbullets whizzing past, embedding in the backdrop. The crowd erupts in chaos, screams echoing as people scramble, chairs toppling.
"Roman, let's move it! Exit 6 at your readyâwe're exiting the building!" He yells into his earpiece, scooping NolĂĄna up, her arms locked around his neck as he sprints backstage.
He rushes her out a side door, tossing her into the armored SUV. She's shaking, tears streaming, clutching his vest. "Watch her! Don't move! Keep an eye out! Draw your gun and be ready." He tells Roman, who nods, pistol out, scanning the lot.
"Don't leave me!" She cries, grabbing his hand.
"I'll be right back!" He reassures, squeezing before diving back in.
Inside, pandemoniumâfans shoving toward exits, security herding. Jackson directs flow, barking orders: "This way! Stay calm!" A minute in, George claps his shoulder. "Go back to herâwe got this here."
He bolts to the car, sliding in beside her. Roman peels out, tires screeching toward the house, sirens wailing in the distance.
"Pack a bag. Warm clothes. I got authorization to take you out of stateâsomewhere safe."
"Where?" She asks, voice small, wiping her face.
"Colorado. Up in the mountains."
She nods, scooting close, burrowing into his side, still trembling. He wraps an arm around her, kissing her forehead gently.
"Whatever you say, I'll do." She murmurs, finally grasping the severity, her independence yielding to the fear coiling in her chest.
The morning after the chaos at the arena, NolĂĄna's team releases a statement through her publicist: full refunds for all tickets, citing 'unforeseen security concerns' as the reason for cancellation. The press frenzy is immediateâheadlines screaming about the shooting, speculation running wildâbut Jackson keeps her offline, phone silenced, the world at bay. By dawn, the group's assembled at a private airstrip: Jackson, NolĂĄna tucked close under his arm, her eyes still shadowed from the night; Tela, her best friend and social media manager, scrolling her phone with forced nonchalance; Anderson and Roman, gear bags slung over shoulders; Josh and Miriam, barking last-minute calls to handlers.
They board the private jet, engines humming as it taxis into the crisp LA sky. NolĂĄna leans into Jackson's side during takeoff, her hand finding his thigh under the armrest, a silent anchor. The flight's tense but uneventfulâsmall talk about logistics, Tela cracking weak jokes to lighten the mood, Josh fretting over schedules. Hours later, they touch down in a remote Colorado airstrip, fresh snow dusting the peaks visible through the windows.
A black SUV waits, and Jackson drives them deeper into the Rockies, winding roads flanked by towering pines. The cabin emerges like a fortressâlog walls, steep roof blanketed in white, isolated on a ridge with no neighbors for miles. Smoke curls from the chimney, a caretaker's touch.
"Where did you find this place?" Josh asks, peering out as they unload.
"It's mine," Jackson responds, pulling a key fob from his pocket, the click unlocking the heavy door. Anderson and Roman exchange shrugs, hauling bags inside without question.
He gets them settled efficiently: assigning rooms, stocking the kitchen with provisions delivered aheadâcanned goods, fresh meats, enough for weeks. NolĂĄna's room adjoins his, a subtle choice she appreciates with a grateful glance. The cabin's cozy but secureâreinforced doors, window bars disguised as rustic shutters, a generator humming in the shed. Days blur into a fragile normalcy: mornings with coffee on the porch, bundled in coats; afternoons of strategy sessions where Jackson briefs the DSS remotely, piecing together the puzzle. Authorities confirm the 'Silence Keepers' were mercenaries, hired muscle for a bigger player. Who would want to kill her? The question gnaws at him, looping in his mind during sleepless nights. He doesn't tell the teamâtrust erodes when betrayal's possible; it could be anyone close, feeding intel to the shadows.
NolĂĄna adapts, sketching lyrics by the fire, her voice humming soft melodies that pull at him. Evenings find them tangled in his bed, bodies seeking solace in slow, deep fucksâher riding him with quiet urgency, his hands gripping her hips as she gasps his name, chasing release amid the uncertainty. Tela keeps to herself more, nursing drinks by the hearth, her laughter sharper, eyes distant.
Everything fractures on the fourth night. The power dies with a snapâlights flickering out, the hum of appliances silencing into eerie quiet. Snow howls outside, wind rattling the panes. NolĂĄna's in Jackson's room, stripped down to panties and his t-shirt, curled against him when the blackout hits. He bolts upright, instincts firing.
"Hide," he whispers, grabbing his pistol from the nightstand, chambering a round. She scrambles to the closet, heart slamming, pulling her own gunâthe compact 9mm from their range sessionsâfrom the drawer. He kneels, pressing the barrel into her steady hands. "If it's not one of us that enters this room, you shoot." His lips brush hers, fierce and brief, before he creeps out, door clicking shut behind him.
She's shaking, back against the wall, finger hovering near the trigger, breaths shallow in the dark. Footsteps echo in the hallâhis socked feet on wood, deliberate.
Jackson pads into the main room, gun low and ready, shadows swallowing details. Voices murmur from the kitchen; he edges closer, spotting Tela slumped at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand, face streaked with tears. Over the past months, he'd learned her history with NolĂĄnaâchildhood best friends, inseparable through fame's grind, Tela handling the online storm with fierce loyalty. But tonight, she reeks of booze and regret.
"You need to get somewhere safe," he says, voice low, gesturing toward the bedrooms.
She looks up, eyes glassy, shaking her head. "I should tell you something." Tears spill faster, her words tumbling out in a slurred rant. "I hate her, Jacksonâcall it what you want. Itâs jealousy. She's got it all: the voice, the money, the body, the spotlight that never dims, and you. I was supposed to be there with her, but I'm just the shadow, posting her life while mine crumbles. He promised money, enough to start over, away from her glow. I thought it was just pressure, make her sweat, but it's deeperâhate that festers. He told me if I did this we could run away with her money and be together. Now he keeps trying to kill her! I didnât want for her to really die. Just to scare her!â
It clicks for him, crystal clear: Tela was tricked by someone.
"How do I stop them?" he asks, stepping closer, gun still at his side.
"You can't. He won't stop until the job is done." She sobs, hands twisting the bottle. "I didn't read the agreement the night I signed it. It was supposed to only scare herâkidnap her for ransom. Get the money and move on! Only they had their own agenda for her. They used me to get to her.â
"Who is he?"
"I don't know! I never met him! We talked online. Iâm not even sure he is real. I signed my best friends life away." she cries, voice breaking.
Gunshots shatter the nightâcrack-crackâfrom the back door. Tela jerks, a red bloom erupting on her chest, body slumping forward. Jackson dives behind the counter, returning fire into the shadows. The intruderâa masked figure in black tactical gearâsprays bullets, splintering wood, before bolting out into the storm. Jackson pursues, snow biting his face, shots echoing off the treesâpop-popâone grazing his arm, hot stingâbut the perp vanishes into the whiteout, engine roaring to life in the distance.
He circles back, breath ragged, dropping to Tela's side. Her eyes stare vacant, blood pooling beneath her. Dead. No pulse, no saving her.
The cabin's alive nowâteam scrambling, flashlights cutting the dark, voices overlapping in panic. Jackson waves them off, bloodied sleeve hidden, and trudges to his room. The door opens to NolĂĄna, gun still gripped white-knuckled, eyes wide in the sliver of moonlight.
He locks it behind him, holstering his weapon, and pulls her into his arms without a word. She drops the gun, clinging tight, sobs muffled against his chest as he holds herâstrong, unyieldingâwhile the world outside crumbles further.
Pop R&B Sensation NolĂĄna Moore or as her fans like to call her? Black Canary.
Jackson? Has protected higher ups and governmental officials, so when DSS reassigns him to protect the musician, he is a little irritated by the assignment after being debriefed of the situation. âI feel one of the other agents would be better for the job sir.â
âHer team wants somebody of higher training and intelligence for the job. Her original team is of need of proper training and assistance. They want you to run operations until whoever is trying to harm her is found.â
âFine when do I start?â
âNow, your flight leaves in an hour. The full file will be sent to you with full details I expect you to go over it before you meet her.â
Based loosely on The Bodyguard with Whitney Houston.
Chapter 1: You
Chapter 2: Ride for You
Chapter 3: Right My Wrongs
Chapter 4: Work Song
Chapter 5: Yellow
This series is completed!
Untitled @southernbell-11-2016 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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