Page 128 of South Beach Bodyguards

He knew it too. The corner of his mouth turned up in to a slight smile and he started toward the house, stalking me. He stopped right in front of me. I stared up at him, waiting. Then his hands came up to cup my cheeks and he leaned down and kissed me—a hard, angry, demanding kiss, that made my insides tighten with need. Expertly his tongue swept open my lips so that he could dominate my mouth, while his hands wound up into my hair and twisted the strands.

It felt like drowning. Being dragged under by a riptide, and swept out to the open ocean. That had happened to me when I was about ten years old, being dragged under by a current, and feeling powerless, panicked, until it had spit me back out.

This was similar, but it was the desire, an intense overwhelming arousal that had me stunned, unable to free myself. It wasn’t until he stepped back that I could even think.

“Get in the house, Miranda,” he said, his voice low and rough.

I didn’t even hesitate.

six

I couldn’t have stopped myself from kissing Miranda for anything. The way she stood on her stoop, framed by the doorway of the house she was trying to make a home, dressed in those sexy shoes and tight pants, I had never wanted a woman as much as I did her.

The way she said my name—a plea—almost undid me. So I had kissed her and now she was obeying me by turning and retreating into the house. My cock was throbbing, my heart racing, and I felt the heightened anticipation of knowing I was going to get what I wanted—her.

I had always fantasized that I would take this slow, that I would be sweet and loving and tease her into full satisfaction.

But all these years of wanting her just caught ahold of me, gripped me in its fury, and I pushed her up against the bare wall in her entryway, kicking the door shut with my foot. Her eyes widened and she moistened her bottom lip.

Burying my head in her neck, I bit her earlobe, possessively, needing to get some of my feral energy out. She gasped in delight. Running my tongue over her sweet flesh, I found her pulse and sucked it for a second, closing my eyes to process that this was actually happening. I was tasting Miranda.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding scandalized.

Raising my head slightly, I slipped the front of her shirt down below her breasts. “Consuming you,” I told her, lifting her breasts so that her nipples were closer to me, an offering. A meal. “You taste delicious.”

With that I took her nipple into my mouth and sucked, teasing her with my tongue. Miranda gave a low moan that made my cock harden to steel. She was all juicy curves and soft skin. I wanted her naked. Now. But I’d settle for these bountiful breasts displayed for me with all their pink perfection. I bit her nipple, just a light nip, and that previous moan was nothing compared to what she gave me now. A rich cry of anxious desire, torn from deep inside her. Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails digging into the cotton of my shirt.

I wanted her to claw at my flesh. To rip my skin open and leave her mark on me. So I briefly stepped back while she gave a soft sob of disappointment. I raised my shirt over my head and tossed it on the tile floor.

Her hands reached out, eager to touch me. While her palms ran over my chest, my muscles, her eyes drifted half closed. “God, you’re so hot,” she said. “But I bet all the girls tell you that.”

“I’ve only ever wanted to hear it from you.” That wasn’t a line. I didn’t need the ego stroke of women telling me I was hot or had a great body. I worked out hard as hell. I knew what I looked like naked and it was pretty fucking good. But that I would hear those words roll off Miranda’s plump kissable lips meant more than a thousand girls saying the same.

As she explored my body, I teased at her nipples with the pads of my thumbs, back and forth, back and forth, rolling the buds into tight peaks. Goose bumps rose on her flesh, and her breathing changed, grew short and anxious. Her reactions were priceless. Easy to coax forward. For a split second I worried that she hadn’t been with anyone since Max, and how fucking weird that would be, but then I shoved that thought to the back of my head.

Max had given all this up.

She was mine now. All mine.

And if her lips tasted so damn good, her pussy would taste even better. I yanked on the waistband of her pants and the stretchy fabric gave in to me. After a few tugs I had them past her thighs, taking her panties down at the same time.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding both eager and frightened.

There were a million things I could say as I cupped her cheek and kissed her, not as dominating as before, my finger teasing across her clit, and finding her damp heat. I could tell her I was making her forget the past, or that I was making her mine. That I was giving her exactly what she wanted, whether she had realized it or not. I could tell her the hard and brutal truth.

Or I could just show her.

So after a few strokes, as she relaxed her grip slightly, I went down in a squat and I buried my tongue inside her core.

“Alejandro,” she said. “Holy… shit.”

The words were drawn out in an anguished ecstasy. “Yeah, baby?” I asked, before tasting her again, thoroughly. She tasted tangy and sweet and I couldn’t get enough of her. I teased open her folds and slid my tongue up and down. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop. Please. It’s too much.”

She was shoving me away from her so I paused, lifting my mouth from her tender moisture. “Stop?” I glanced up at her, nostrils flaring. “Is that what you want me to do?”

Miranda was biting her bottom lip. Her cheeks were flushed pink, a stain blooming above her breasts, which were still bursting above her neckline. Even as she stood there making up her mind, her hips rocked toward me, offering herself. But I waited, despite the fact that it made me want to pull my dick out and shove it inside that hot offering. “Tell me what to do, baby,” I urged her. My breath caused goose bumps to rise on her inner thighs.

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