Page 99 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

“That’s it, Tori baby, ride me as hard as you want. I love watching your ass bounce,” I said, slapping her cheek until a red handprint appeared on her cinnamon skin.

“Hell yeah,” she screamed.

“Get on your knees,” I commanded.

Tori repositioned herself and I sat up, pushing into her tight walls. “Look at me, Tori.”

I gripped her jaw and kissed her deeply, dominating her mouth. As she moved up and down on my cock, I circled two fingers over her clit.

“Come for me, baby.”

“Ritchie,” she breathed against my lips as I grabbed her hips and thrusted into her drenched core.

“Give me that orgasm, Tori.”

“Oh my God, Ritchie.”

I had her right on the edge. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her head fell back onto my shoulder.

The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room - the sweetest fucking sound.

“I’m coming, Ritchie,” she yelled as her body convulsed around me.

I held still inside her tight warmth as I released ribbons of cum inside of her pussy.

“Fuck shit,” I growled through clenched teeth.

I came so hard that my cum spilled out of her pussy.

“Tori, tell me you’re coming home to see me next week,” I demanded.

Silence.

I knew she was planning to see my neighbor in Jersey. But what I really needed was to hold her in my arms for at least one-night next week.

“Yes, Mr. Toscana. I’m coming to Jersey to spend time with my husband.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TORI

THE WOMEN RUN THE STREETS

“It’s so good to see you in person, daddy,” I stated, hugging him tightly.

“Facetime was cool,” he said, stepping back giving me the once over.

He was dressed in dark gray slacks, a heather gray dress shirt, and black Ferragamo shoes.

A smile widened his chestnut face. I got my cinnamon skin tone from my mother.

My dad had a low-cut fade hairstyle and stood about five feet ten inches tall with a lean build that showed he worked out regularly.

“It feels good to see my baby girl in person,” he said warmly.

I returned his smile. Our big brown eyes were nearly identical. For being forty-five, Dad looked good.

Stretching my right hand, I marveled at the medium-sized warehouse. “This is your command center, daddy.”

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