Page 84 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

His gaze returned to me. “They can fucking wait,” he muttered before capturing my lips.

Once in our suite, Ritchie performed his sweep. The man would always ensure my safety first.

“How are you feeling, Tori?” Ritchie sauntered toward me.

The glow of the lights from the Vegas strip cascaded over our bodies.

“Honestly?”

His brows lowered. “Yes.”

“Pain whips through my back in waves every now and then. It’s from hitting the ground so hard this morning,” I admitted.

Ritchie scooped me up into his arms.

“You’re in no condition to carry me.”

Ritchie ignored my words and marched into the bedroom.

He gently placed me on the bed. I leaned up and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “I can take the pain...” My finger slid along his pecs. “...and the pleasure. I’ll be fine, Ritchie.”

His brows lowered. “I know you will because Sunday you’ll spend half the day in bed.”

I opened my mouth. He raised a finger. “Tori, I will too.”

“Ok and what about tonight?” I asked.

He shrugged out of his navy suit jacket and tossed it onto the nearby chair. “I’m in no shape to fuck you like the obsessed man I am, but I’ll give it my all. Tonight, let’s practice making a baby.”

My lips parted. “Ritchie...”

He silenced me with a passionate kiss, one that conveyed his desire for me. As we broke away, I slowly slid the thin spaghetti straps off my shoulders, feeling his intense gaze on my body. His gray eyes roamed over every inch of me.

Ritchie took a step back and kicked off his pricey brown wingtip shoes. He called out to his phone and commanded it to play a playlist. A slow ballad bellowed around the room.

Ritchie raised his hands over his head, snapping his fingers to the beat.

His lust filled piercing gray eyes held mine as he unbuttoned his crisp white dress shirt slowly. His muscled abs came into view. He wasn’t wearing a wife beater tonight. Probably because he had this special show planned just for me.

I giggled inside. His moves made me hornier, if that was possible. He rolled his hips and the bulge in his slacks was evident.

He grinned and gave me a sly wink, confident in his ability to captivate me.

I was entranced by my cocky man as he put on a private striptease just for me. It was far more exhilarating than any strip club experience with some random stranger.

Ritchie curled a hand around my throat and pulled me close as he circled his hips. His hard dick rubbed my pussy through my soaked panties.

I could get used to these exclusive dances. His tongue slid along my cheek as he slammed against my center, forcing a moan from my throat.

This man who almost died this morning, because of me, gave a hell of a performance.

His head dipped down to my chest, his hot breath tickling my skin. Ritchie plucked my breast from the dress, cupping it in his big hand. I felt his tongue trace over my nipple, sending shivers down my spine.

He was exhausted and in pain, but he pushed through it because he knew we wouldn’t see each other for a while. I could tell he was giving it his all to please both of us.

The thought of being without Ritchie for two weeks filled me with sadness, but I didn’t want to show him how much it would hurt.

Was I taking advantage of him? Should I have asked him not to flip me onto all fours and bite my ass cheek?

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