Page 17 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

He snaked an arm up my chest and gripped my breast, circling his thumb over my taut nipple.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. Bianca, do you like the way I tongue fuck you?”

“Yes,” I moaned as my eyes rolled into the back of my head as my back arched.

Catch slid his tongue along my folds, providing a new sensation, one that danced over my nerve endings.

“Come for me, baby.” He sounded drunk.

His tongue sucked my nub as he plunged two fingers into my pussy, intensifying the way my body craved his tongue and mouth.

A scream tore through me as my body jerked in his arms and tears streamed down my face.

“Catch,” I cried as multiple orgasms rippled over my skin.

My shaky hands palmed my breasts, trying to control my heaving chest. I peeked at his face. He looked like he was in heaven. There was a calmness that took his handsome features while he ate my pussy and slurped my cum. It was beautiful. Yeah, we’d have to do this again.

Catch jumped up, stuffing his rock-hard cock into his boxers. His face glistened with my juices. “Be right back.”

My pussy vibrated with new desire. I wouldn’t be able to turn him down when it came to his tongue working my pussy.

Catch returned. He sat on the sofa and placed the warm washcloth over my pussy.

“Bianca, what’s the name of the bath gel?”

“Moonlight Path.”

“I like it a lot,” he said.

“I have other fragrances you might like, but I’ll be sure to wear it next time we’re together.”

Catch nodded. “You do that.”

Ten minutes later, my head rested on his chest while we sat in the middle of the sofa watching the movie.

I pointed to the TV. “That was badass right there.”

“It was. You can never go wrong watching Fast & Furious.” he grinned.

My eyes met his. “I agree.”

The smile on my lips withered. “I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Rossi.”

“Is Catch your real name?” I asked.

“He sighed like sharing his last name was a bother. He thought he could blow it off. Nope, he couldn’t.

“No. It’s Callum. But I like being called Catch.”

“But I love the name Callum.”

He tugged the sleeve of his shirt, drowning my body. “I never let women wear my clothes. But you. I want you in my shirts’ all the time. You look fucking beautiful.” His lips pressed against my neck.

He ignored my statement about his name.

“How many women have you been with?”

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