Her bodyguard, p.15
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       Her Bodyguard, p.15
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           Sabrina Paige

  freshly-waxed pussy, to her trim waist, my eyes lingering on the little piercing she has in her navel. I take in her bare breasts, sized perfectly to fit in each of my hands. I have to resist the overwhelming urge to reach out and see if they really are just the size of my palms. Her pale pink nipples are as hard as rocks, little circle beads practically begging to be stroked by my tongue.

  I'm practically salivating at the mere thought of putting my mouth on them. My cock jumps, the memory of my dick pressed up against her smooth wetness only minutes ago still very fresh in my mind.

  "Can I help you, James?" she asks casually. She stands there with an absolutely triumphant expression on her face because she knows she has me.

  She wants me to be completely taken with her, the way any red-blooded male would be when confronted with a woman like her standing naked in front of him. She wants me to pick her up and close the door behind me and fuck her.

  But that's exactly what I'm not going to do. A girl like her is used to getting her own way, all the time, from everyone.

  The hell if she's going to get it from me like that.

  Even if all the blood in my body has rushed straight to my cock, at least I can think clearly enough to realize that.

  "I had an urgent security matter to discuss," I tell her.

  She smiles smugly, raising her eyebrows as her gaze flickers down to my pants, where I know she can see that I'm hard as a rock. "Oh?"

  I step inside the bedroom without closing the doors behind me. I need to leave the doors open, because hell if I'm going to be able to resist her without knowing that someone could come down that hallway at any moment and discover us.

  That, and her recklessness makes me want to be reckless too.

  I stand in front of her, so close that her nipples touch my shirt. But I don't touch her. I just lean close to her ear and whisper "I told you what was going to happen if you kept calling me James."

  She nods. "I think you said the punishment would be worse than what you just did in the library." Her voice is thick and breathy. "To which I say, then I'm ready for my punishment, James."

  "Is that what you want, princess?" I ask, my breath catching in my throat. Bending her over like that in the library – cuffing her like that –was insane.

  I've never done anything like that to a girl before. I've never felt that kind of need before. I've never been spun up and annoyed and so fucking hard for a girl like that before.

  Having her breathless, cuffed, and completely at my mercy, her orgasm totally mine to give, should make me feel terrible, shouldn't it? A good man wouldn't be hard as a rock at the thought of making a woman like this submit.

  She whimpers. "I'm a very bad girl."

  She wants me to spank her. She wants me to bend her over and tie her up and fuck her, but I can't do any of those things, because she's demanding it. Instead, I hold strong. I whisper in her ear. "My name, princess."

  A slow grin spreads across her face as she slides her palm over my hard cock. "You don't really care about the whole name thing," she says softly. "Do you? It's really just a silly little thing."

  I grip her wrist, stopping her from doing what she's doing with her hand. "I do," I tell her. "All you have to do is say it."

  She sighs. "You're no fun."

  "I'm lots of fun," I tell her. My lips brush her ear, and the smell of her shampoo is intoxicating. "But you don't get to come until you say it."

  She laughs. "You're so stubborn."

  "Pot, meet kettle."

  She steps back a foot or so, her expression defiant. Sliding her palm across her abdomen, her fingers go lower until they dip between her legs. I take a deep breath as she touches herself. "Well, then, I guess you'll have to watch."

  I do.

  I watch for a moment as she fingers herself – until I think my cock is going to explode right then and there. I watch until I'm on the verge of picking her up and carrying her to the bed because I don't fucking care about what the hell she calls me. I watch until she's on the verge of coming, her lips parted and her breath short.

  I won't be able to contain myself if she comes.

  So I walk to her, pulling her hand from between her legs. Her eyes go wide as I bring her fingers to my mouth. Her wetness is intoxicating, sweet and perfect, and I silently curse myself for tasting her because now I only want her more. "No, princess," I growl. "No touching yourself. No fingers. No vibrators. Nothing goes between your legs except me. You can come when I give you permission to come."

  Her eyes go wide. "You are completely insane."

  "It's just one word, princess," I say, turning to leave. "One simple word."

  I take one final look at her naked body, because chances are she's going to come to her senses by tomorrow and decide to never let me see that naked body ever again. Then I close the bedroom door behind me.

  The other security guy is just returning from his break, walking down the hallway in my direction. He chuckles at my very clear boner. "She's hot, eh?"

  I don't know what comes over me. I push him up against the nearest wall. "She's the princess," I say gruffly. "You speak about her like that again and I'll report you. Understood?"

  I let go of him before I hear his answer and make a beeline for my room where I have to immediately drop my pants. I stroke myself, thinking about her naked. I think about coming all over her bare ass in the library and remember the way she moaned when I touched her. I think about how fucking wet she was for me, how willing and perfect.

  I think about all of the things I want to do to her, about all of the ways I want to debauch this girl, and when I do, I come hard.

  20

  Alexandra

  "Why are you so cranky?" Albie asks, coming up behind me and throwing his arm around my shoulder.

  "Fuck off," I tell him, stepping away. I'm cranky because of all the pent-up sexual tension between Max and I, not to mention the fact that I haven't been able to make myself come since he told me I wouldn't come without him. It's completely ridiculous, too. It's not like I've ever had trouble doing exactly the opposite of what someone tells me to do; I even tried touching myself last night. I slid my fingers between my legs and … nothing. So, I'm a little bit tense. But it's not as if I'm going to tell my brother any of that. "You're messing up my dress."

  Albie laughs. "Who pissed in your coffee? You weren't out late partying, since we're at the summer house now and there's literally nothing to do here all summer long. So I assume it's not that. Are you still mad about having to come out here?"

  "I was never mad about having to come to the summer house," I huff. "I used to like it out here."

  "That was before you became a regular on the club scene."

  No, that was before Mom died.

  I stick out my tongue at him. "Don't you have someplace else to be? Like humping your stepsister?"

  Albie's face goes white. "There's no humping going on." He grabs my hand and drags me into the nearest room, like we're kids again trying to keep secrets from our parents. "Seriously, what gave you that idea?"

  I cock my head and look at my brother like he's an idiot, because really he's a complete idiot. "Are you joking?"

  "No," he says. "There's nothing going on."

  "Okay, um, first of all, I have eyes."

  "Really."

  "I'm not blind. I can see what's happening. I don't know why you don't just come out with it, already. At least to me. I am your sister, after all."

  "You're seeing things."

  "Yep, totally. Like the vibrator that rolled along the floor in the pool house."

  Albie narrows his eyes. "You knew what that was," he realizes.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. "I understand you want to treat me like your kid sister, but you do realize that I'm old enough to have seen a vibrator before. And that little egg that fell on the floor? Definitely a vibrator. I'm guessing it was one of those remote-controlled things, and you shoved it up Belle's twat –"

  "I'm not listening,
" Albie says, putting his fingers in his ears. "This is me, not listening to my freaking sister talk about twats."

  "Fine." I sigh loudly. "Vagina."

  "Still not listening!"

  "Okay, if you're not going to admit to it, then I'll just ask Belle if you stuck a vibrator in her."

  "Stop talking about that."

  "Vaginas? Do they make you uncomfortable?"

  "To hear my sister talking about Belle's, yes."

  "Then stop accusing me of being cranky," I huff.

  "Clearly, I struck a nerve," he says. "Someone needs to get laid."

  "Says the guy who was uncomfortable hearing his sister use the word 'vagina' two seconds ago."

  "I don't need to hear my kid sister talking about anyone's vagina."

  Noah bursts into the room, shaking his head. "You guys are so weird." He pauses. "No offense."

  "Saved by the bodyguard," I tell Albie. "I'm sure you're very relieved."

  "I apologize for interrupting, but your father wants to speak with you, sir."

  "Don't worry," I call to Albie. "We'll continue this conversation another time."

  Albie turns to look at me and rolls his eyes. "Stay out of it, little sis."

  "You're my brother, and we're at the summer house with nothing to do, so I don't think that's humanly possible," I shout back.

  He and Noah leave, but Max walks through the door. "Nothing to do?" he asks, a sly smile spreading on his lips that makes me go weak in the knees.

  "That's right," I say imperiously. "The summer house is all about rest and relaxation and no obligations, which is just the way I like things."

  "With no obligations," Max repeats.

  "No strings," I tell him. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a no-strings kind of a girl." I blurt it out, but I'm not sure why I do.

  I want him to know that he shouldn't get attached because I'm not the kind of girl to get attached to.

  He steps forward, close to me, and when he looks down at me, the intensity in his eyes makes me immediately wet. "No strings, huh?"

  "That's right."

  He whispers against my ear. "What about ropes, then? Would ropes do?" he asks. The sensation of his lips brushing my skin underneath my earlobe is so intense that I think I lose the ability to breathe for a moment. When his lips go lower, down the side of my neck, I think I might pass out.

  "Ropes?" I ask innocently, as if I don't know exactly what he'd want to do with me and ropes.

  "Ropes," he whispers. "Encircling your wrists, like before, pulling your arms above your head... maybe I'd tie you to the bedposts and decide exactly what I want to do with you."

  I swallow hard. Did the temperature in the room suddenly go up by a thousand degrees? I'm flushed warm, from my head to my toes. "The bedposts?" I whisper. I can't come up with anything better than that as a response because I'm rendered stupid and witless at the mere mention of him tying me to the bed.

  I'm not that girl. I'm not the submissive type. So why is the suggestion of being rendered completely submissive to him making me so incredibly dizzy?

  "The bedposts, a beam on the ceiling… The sky's the limit, princess," he whispers. The heat of his breath makes me flush even hotter.

  "I don't recall saying I wanted to be tied up."

  He steps back from me, straightens his suit jacket, and winks. "You didn't say it, but you can tell me if I'm wrong. Am I wrong, princess?"

  I clear my throat. My face feels like it's on fire. "I think you're wrong about lots of things," I say dismissively.

  "I'm not wrong about that." He gives me a long look, and I feel like he can see through me. It's infuriating.

  He's right, of course, but he's not going to get the upper hand.

  Clearing my throat again, I stand up straight and wipe my palms down my dress. "You're right," I say softly, walking past him. "And if I were wearing panties, they'd be wet right now."

  The way his cheeks turn red gives me a sense of smug satisfaction as I sashay my little ass right on out of the room, knowing full and well he's watching me as I go, imagining me bare underneath this dress.

  21

  Max

  As I buzz the intercom to Princess Alexandra's bedroom suite, I look over her agenda for the day. The printed handout, in calligraphy on royal stationary, is like a relic from a bygone era. I don't know quite why the palace hasn't caught up to the twenty-first century yet by making everything digital. If her schedule showed up directly on her phone, Princess Alexandra might actually read it once in a while. "Who is it?" she calls, the sound muffled.

  "It's Max," I reply. "I have your schedule for today –"

  The princess doesn't answer. Instead, the door lock clicks, interrupting me. Pushing the bedroom door open, I stand just inside the sitting room, clearing my throat to let her know I'm in her room. "Princess, your agenda is –"

  I stop mid-sentence as Princess Alexandra walks out of her closet wearing the tiniest white bikini I've ever seen in my life, paired with white sandals and a matching white floppy-brimmed hat. Giant sunglasses cover half her face, and she's carrying a tote bag that's almost bigger than she is.

  She pauses with her legs apart and her hand on her hip. "Ta-da. Presenting … my summer swimsuit."

  Her over-the-top confidence would be funny if she weren't so damned hot.

  As she turns around, she wriggles her ass just enough to be incredibly uncomfortable. Uncomfortable for me, that is, because my cock hardens immediately and strains against my pants.

  I clear my throat again, attempting to wrangle some semblance of professional behavior when really all I'm focusing on doing is making sure I blink so my eyes don't look like they're bugging out of my head. I'm also trying to stay cool, because I know exactly what she's up to right now.

  The girl is trying to provoke me, just the way she did yesterday with the whole "I'm not wearing any panties under my skirt" bit. That was definitely a provocation, one that I had to respond to later by jerking off as I imagined her slipping out of that dress she was wearing, the one with no panties underneath.

  But she's not going to provoke me today. No, sir.

  I keep my eyes locked on hers.

  Do not look lower. Do not look at her breasts, or her ass, or her legs, or that fucking swimsuit.

  Holding out the agenda, I pretend like she's wearing a winter coat and I'm not standing here with a boner. "Your agenda, princess," I say. "You'll see that you're rather busy this afternoon, unfortunately."

  She sashays slowly across the room, her curvy hips swaying back and forth as she balances on her sandals. When she reaches me, she
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