Guarding His Obsession

Rubbing my tip back and forth across her clit, Zoey moans louder as I leave small traces of cum on her. Her hips start to rise, like she’s inviting me inside her, and I go stone still. I can’t go inside her, not yet. But her pussy is moving up and down, and she’s trying to take me inside her.

“Fuck, Zoey.”

“I think that would be nice.” She moans and moves her hips up again, trying to make me penetrate her.

Taking my thumb to her clit, I rub her there a little and bring my thumb to my mouth. I need a little taste of her to help me keep my strength.

Her flavor hits my mouth, and I swear I feel a groan come out. It’s too much, but it’s not enough. I’ve got to get her off so I can cum and try to ease the beast I feel inside me.

Grabbing my cock, I go back to rubbing the tip of my cock on her clit. “Just like this, Zoey. Cum for me like this, cupcake.”

I hold her hips down with my free hand, keeping her from trying to take my cock inside her. She wants more, but right now I’m only giving her what she needs.

I feel her pussy start to pulse as her back bows off the bed. She shouts my name, and the sound of it is enough to set me off.

“Drake!”

I watch as her body tenses and rides out the waves of her orgasm, and I cum all over her sweet little pussy. Thick jets of cum splash onto her clit, and I watch as I mark her. I move down a little, pressing the tip of my cock to her virgin opening, and release a little of my cum there, too. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I feel like I have to shoot some in there, too. I want all of her to belong to me, even if I haven’t fully taken her yet.

When the last of my cum has left my body, I grab Zoey by the waist and roll her over on top of me before I collapse all of my weight onto her.

I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My orgasm rocked me hard.

Suddenly, I feel Zoey sit up, and I open my eyes to see the biggest smile shining down at me.

“That was incredible. Now this time, I think I want to be on top so I can do what I want.”

My still-hard cock pulses at the idea, but I shake my head as I smile back at her. “I’m beginning to think you only want me for one thing, Zoey.”

She looks like she’s contemplating something, and I try to shake her off her train of thought before she can tell me that maybe sex is the only reason she’s interested in me.

“Let me show you my culinary expertise while we go over the stalker information. Deal?”

She leans down, gives me a quick kiss, and hops off my body. “Deal,” she says, and she covers her cum-covered pussy back up with her panties and slides her jeans back on.

Why does the thought of me coating her make me impossibly hard all over again?

7

Zoey

I watch him as he moves about the kitchen while I sit at the breakfast bar. His shirt is off, and I can see the ridges and lines of his muscles as he moves around. For such a big guy, he moves almost with a silent grace. I wonder if that has to do with his job. Something he was trained to do.

I’ve never been so fascinated with a man in my life, and the more I seem to learn about him, the worse it becomes. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from him, memorizing every mark on his body. At first I was intrigued by the scars that littered his body, but now my eyes linger on the tattoos that run up and cover every inch of both his arms.

“Do you like pain?” The question pops out of my mouth.

He turns to look at me, his back muscles flexing once again. I wonder how much he has to work out to keep those things. I bet a lot. I know he can lift me like I weigh nothing at all.

“I wouldn’t say I liked it. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just all the tattoos and scars. Seems like you have lot of pain going on.”

His head cocks to the side, a half-smile pulling at his mouth. At this angle I can see a dimple in his cheek, one I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe because of his light facial hair, but I see it now.

“Scars kind of come with the job, and the tattoos kind of do, too.”

“You have to get tattoos to be a bodyguard?” Maybe this is some kind of ritual they do. Like when my sister was a cheerleader and she wore ribbons in her hair and painted crap on her face. I didn’t get it, but they all did it. It looked pretty stupid, but the tats don’t look stupid on Drake.

He lets out a bark of laughter as he goes back to chopping up an onion.

“No, cupcake. It’s not required. It just something the guys and I liked to do. I haven’t gotten a new one in a long time.”

“Do you want more?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it. I think the last time I got one, I was with SWAT.”

“You should get one with color.”

He sets the knife down and runs a hand up his other arm, looking down at his tattoos.

“You don’t like all the black?” he asks like he really cares. Elle hasn’t asked me anything about fashion or what looks good in forever. I have absolutely no fashion sense, and mostly I just don’t care. I just throw stuff on.

“Thought it might look nice.” Everything about him seems dark and big. Almost scary. I really noticed it when I was studying him moving in the kitchen. He’s right. I should have been scared when I walked into my apartment and he was just standing there. He’s built like a freaking giant. His dark eyes and dark hair feed into the deadly edge. I’m sure he could just snap someone in half if he needed to. The tattoos and scars only add to his whole “I could snap you in half or go Hulk smash on you” mystique.