Page 16 of Escorting the Bodyguard
I kiss her.
Soft at first. Testing the edge of a line I swore I wouldn’t cross. She exhales against my mouth, and then her lips part, meeting me halfway, like she was just waiting for the excuse.
The kiss deepens. Her fingers thread into my hair. My body goes tight, cock straining against the waistband of my shorts. She shifts, sliding one leg over mine until she’s half on top of me, all heat and softness and sin, wrapped in the curves I’ve been dying to touch since the moment we met.
Her hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt.
And everything in me seizes.
I catch her wrist. Not rough. Just enough to stop her. She goes still.
There’s no question in her eyes, not yet—but there will be. She doesn’t know what she’s reaching for. Doesn’t know what I can’t let her find. I don’t give her the chance to ask.
I move her hand away from my shirt as I kiss her deeply, keeping her focus anywhere but there. Then I guide her up, one firm grip on her thigh, shifting her weight higher until her knees bracket my head. Her breath hitches.
“Sit,” I say, voice thick.
She hesitates. “I’m going to smother you.”
I look up at her, dead serious. “Then my headstone’s gonna say I died doing what I loved.”
A beat passes. Then she obeys.
She shimmies out of her sleep set first, slow and silent, like she’s daring me to stop her. I don’t. I can’t. I just watch, hungry, until she’s naked above me.
Her pussy hovers above my mouth—bare, wet, and fucking perfect. I grip her hips and pull her down, burying my face in her without hesitation. The taste of her hits like a drug. Warm and slick and messy in a way that makes me forget everything else.
She moans and rocks against my mouth, one hand braced on the headboard, the other gripping my hair like she’s hanging on for dear life. Her thighs tremble, thick, soft, strong as they flex around my face. I want to lose myself here, between her lush curves and the way she writhes when I touch her just right. When I slide my hands up her waist and feel the give of her soft belly under my palms, I nearly groan.
Every inch of her body is a fucking obsession.
“Jesus, Ford,” she moans, breath hitching. “You’re so good at this…”
I grin against her skin. “You only like me for my youth and stamina.”
“It’s definitely a perk.”
I nip her clit in mock punishment, and she jerks, gasping.
Then I suck it between my lips and flick with my tongue, and she cries out, sharp and desperate.
“Ford—fuck—I’m gonna?—”
I double down, fingers curling inside her as I keep licking, relentless until she breaks. She comes hard, hips jerking, thighs clenching around my head, her whole body shuddering with it.
I lick her once more, just to hear the way she whimpers—sensitive and undone. I could stay buried in her for hours, worshipping every curve. But I don’t. I press a kiss to her inner thigh before letting her go.
I look at her, really look at her. Her skin glows, her chest rising and falling with every breath. She’s wrecked and radiant, and it hits me square in the chest. I’ve never wanted anything so badly.
She kisses me hard, tongue licking into my mouth like she needs more. And fuck, so do I.
My restraint snaps. I flip her onto her stomach, grip her hips, and shove a pillow beneath her. My shirt stays on. It always does. I shove my shorts down just enough, line up behind her, every nerve lit and sparking.
I drag the head of my dick through her slick folds, and she moans.
Then freezes.
“Condom?” she asks, breathless.
