Page 13 of Bodyman

I began by kissing his ankle and dropping more open-mouthed kisses up his shin and on the inside of his knee. My hands roamed across muscular thighs covered in the crisp texture of his body hair.

President Garner Ashley was a runner. It was something he’d always done as a quick way to get cardio no matter where in the world he was, but he’d also turned it into a great stress reliever, jumping on the treadmill in the residential gym when what he really wanted to do was scream or cry.

I’d run alongside him hundreds of times now, and yet I’d tried my hardest to keep from staring at his muscular legs while they worked. Now, I could take my fill.

And I did.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” I murmured, running the tip of my tongue up his inner thigh to his sac and nosing it out of the way. When I tasted the skin in the crease between his leg and his cock, he sucked in a breath.

I moved my hands to his legs to push them up until his hole was visible in front of me.

And then I blew hot breath across it to tease another gasping curse out of him. He was so fun to tease, his noises and the clenching of his muscles a satisfying reward for touching and tasting him.

I reached out my tongue to swipe it across his hole and continued to kiss, lick, and suck it until he had to slam a hand over his mouth to keep from begging. All that was left were desperate whimpers when I finally slicked up my fingers and began to stretch him open.

“I haven’t slept with anyone in four and a half years, Garner,” I said, making sure he heard me clearly. “And I know you’re negative. Can I go bare with you?”

Deep green pools met my gaze as he nodded.

When I moved over the top of him and finally, fucking finally, began pushing my cock inside of him, I closed my eyes on a groan.

President Garner Ashley’s hole squeezed around me.

And I knew I was finally home.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

GARNER

I felt like a virgin again, all nerves and excitement. My hole stretched uncomfortably wide to accommodate Kenan’s girth, and I secretly hoped to still feel the burn tomorrow and for a long time after.

I clutched at him as he slowly pressed inside me. How had I gone this long without touching him like this? How had I survived this long without experiencing his hands on me, his mouth on me, his dogged determination to give me physical and emotional pleasure?

When I’d adjusted fully to him, he leaned over me and pressed light kisses to my lips and face. “You okay?”

I held his head and tried not to let my emotional overwhelm leak out of my eyes. “So okay.” I swallowed. “I love you.”

So much for holding back the emotion. When I saw the vulnerability in his eyes, followed by radiant joy, I knew I was lost. This was the beginning of everything, and I would find a way to make it work one way or another.

“I love you too,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes closed for a beat. “And I’ll do anything you want except walk away from this.”

As we kept our eyes locked together, Kenan began thrusting in and out of me, slowly at first, until I begged him to move faster. He changed the angle before speeding up, and I felt my eyes roll back. My entire body thrummed with need, and my balls drew up. I reached down to stroke myself at the same time he reached for my cock.

“Baby…” he urged. “Tell me what you need.”

Apparently, all I’d needed was an endearment spoken in his voice and loaded with affection. I came on a muffled cry, biting down softly on the meat of his biceps to keep from screaming.

I felt his muscle bunch against my lips as he gasped and grunted, shoving his body as deep into me as he could to ride out his orgasm.

His hot, damp skin was a magnet for my hands. I touched him everywhere, trying to map the contours of his body so I could replay this moment over and over again long after he was dressed and gone.

Because there was no way Kenan Harper, bodyman to the president of the United States, could spend the entire night in the president’s bed on board Air Force One.

It was one thing for him to be in here late at night, even for a few hours. For all anyone knew, he was consulting with me on my clothing, facilitating personal jobs like discussing needed appointments and errands, or simply organizing my personal effects.

But if he stayed in here long past the time I was supposed to be asleep… there would be no way to keep this interlude secret.

People would talk, and the rumors and speculation would move through the staff like wildfire. His private life would cease to exist the way mine had, and he’d be targeted even more by the press than he already was.

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