Her Mafia Bodyguard

“I know it can be.” She goes back to her food, scooping some eggs onto a piece of toast. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

“You can tell yourself that all you want—”

“You know what?” She drops the rest of the toast onto the plate, swiveling around on the stool until she’s facing me head-on. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not some bubbleheaded, naïve little thing, no matter what my father thinks about me.”

“I never said you were.”

“Then why do you insist on telling me what I want? I know what I want. I know what’s right for me. And you can’t tell me it’s been easy, the two of us living together all these weeks, both of us pretending we don’t want what we so obviously do. Have you forgotten what it was like that night in my room? Will you ever be able to forget what it felt like to kiss me? Because I know I’ll never forget it, and I don’t want to. It’s insane to think we could walk around and pretend it never happened!”

She has a point. And that’s not just my dick talking. Most of the misery of the past two months has come from denying ourselves. I know in my case, my cravings for her can only be channeled into picking fights with her. Being jealous. Petty. That’s not how I want to be.

I also don’t want to be dead, which I’m afraid I would be if word of this ever got out.

“Zeke. Look at me.” I lift my gaze to find her smiling. “Let’s stop all this. Let’s stop kidding ourselves. And let’s stop believing my father would have any way of knowing about us being together. I know we can both be discreet adults. Right?”

She’s right, you know she’s right, just tell her so. I take a deep breath, like I can will myself into believing something I don’t. I can make myself believe there’s any way we can get out of this fucked up situation with her still being a virgin in the end.

She slides off the stool, standing between my legs. “You know what I want?” Her palm makes contact with my straining cock. “I want to know how to make you feel good. I want you to teach me to do to you what you did to me. It doesn’t seem fair, with me having all the fun. Teach me. Show me what to do. I want to learn so much.” She massages me in slow circles, and I have to wonder how often she’s thought of this.

I catch her wrist and hold it still. “You’re playing with fire,” I warn.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she whispers, her lip disappearing under her teeth. So fucking sexy. Innocence and sensuality all wrapped up in one perfect little package.

And she’s handing herself to me on a platter. How insane am I to think I can fight against this?

“Let me touch you,” she urges, still whispering. “Let me see you.” With her other hand, she tugs at the waistband of my loose, flannel pants. I don’t bother trying to stop her; it would be like stopping the sun from rising. This is going to happen no matter what I do to stop it.

“Let me help you.” I hook a thumb into the waistband of my pants and my boxers and tug, giving her room to dip her hand inside and close her fingers around me. My breath catches before I moan in approval.

“It’s so thick,” she murmurs, looking down. She gives an experimental stroke, and I groan.

“Not too tight,” I whisper, and she loosens just a bit. “And it’s better if you can get it wet.”

She’s determined to surprise me today. Her eyes meet mine, locking onto me, and she raises her other hand before running the flat of her tongue from the heel to her fingertips. She wraps that hand around me this time, and I’m afraid I might come already. Either she has a very active imagination, or she’s been watching porn. Either way, I don’t care. It feels incredible.

“What next?” She pumps slowly, almost experimental. Watching me closely, seeing how I react. She’s holding my whole life in her hands, and she doesn’t know it. I would do anything for her, whatever she asks, so long as she never stops.

“Put it in your mouth. Get on your knees. I’ll tell you what to do.” Because fuck it, why not? It’s a waste of time pretending this isn’t going to happen. And I have imagined her sucking my cock too many times to keep from taking advantage of the situation. She wants to learn? I’ll teach her.

She lowers herself slowly, still watching me. “Take off your shirt,” I murmur, and the sight of her gorgeous tits dropping down from her nightshirt is a fantasy come true. Having her on her knees, eager, only wanting to learn. No holds barred.

“Put your lips over your teeth,” I say. “No teeth. Relax your throat. It’s not going to choke you, no matter what you think.” I take myself in one hand, guiding the head over her lips. “I’ve wanted to fuck your mouth for so long.” Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn’t pull away.

In fact, the tip of her tongue darts out, and she catches precum as it oozes from my head. It’s almost too fucking hot. “Go slow. Take your time.” Sliding between her lips and into the warmth of her mouth is bliss. I have to focus on not losing it, or I might have no choice but to take her by the back of the head and fuck her until she gags.

And I will do that one day. But not yet.

She eases her way down, one inch at a time, until she finally has most of me in her mouth. “Now, ease your way back up,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “Just like that. Don’t part your lips. Keep that suction going. Use your tongue—press it against where the shaft meets the head. That’s right, baby,” I groan. She’s a quick learner and eager.

I’m eager, too. I won’t be able to hold on much longer, even with her taking it slow. If anything, it’s that slow, sensual pace that has me ready to burst. “You’re so good,” I groan before withdrawing with a groan of regret.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes are wide, surprised. “I thought you liked it.”

“I did,” I assure her, one hand still in her hair. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”