Fearless_The Alpha Bodyguard Series

by Sybil Bartel

  She glanced at the couch, and I followed her gaze.

  “I guess I’m good at bloodying sheets.” Quiet and too fucking restrained, her voice barely cut through the silence in the house.

  “Fuck the sheet.” I grabbed my dick and stroked myself.

  Her gaze cut to my hand.

  “You want to come?” Because I fucking did.

  She looked down at her thighs again. “I’m… messy.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the blood.” If I did, I was in the wrong fucking business. I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Take your shirt off.”

  She pressed her thighs together. “What are you doing?”

  Making her feel good. “Giving you what you want.”

  “And you don’t want it?” she challenged.

  Shit, I loved the unassuming backbone on this woman. “I fucking want it.”

  She took the hem of her shirt, but she didn’t take it off, she tugged it down. “You swear a lot.”

  “And you’re fucking gorgeous. Come here.”

  Hesitant, sexy as hell, she stepped toward me.

  I stroked my cock. “Closer.”

  “I’m…” Her gaze darted to my hand, and her voice went quiet.

  “I’m embarrassed,” she admitted.

  Beaten, bloodied, and in borrowed clothes after having her virginity freshly taken, she still stood in front of me with poise. The same poise she’d had outside the club, but now there was more to her than good upbringing and money. “About?” I hated what that more was from, but Jesus, she was beautiful.

  Her gaze dropped, and her hand fell to the front of her thighs at the juncture of her legs. “The blood,” she whispered.

  I gave her the hard truth. “I slit a man’s throat in front of you. You think I give a fuck about a little blood?” That asshole had bled out all over the goddamn floor.

  She barely shrugged.

  “Look at me,” I clipped.

  Her head came up.

  “Don’t start that silent bullshit with me again. You don’t want to talk to anyone else? Fine.” I could fucking relate. “But with me, you use words. Understood?” I’d fucking earned that much from her.

  She started to nod

  “Words,” I corrected.

  “All right,” she whispered.

  “Promise me,” I demanded, taking more than I should. “Promise you’ll always give me your words.”

  Her gaze intent on mine, she licked her bottom lip, then she gave me what I didn’t deserve. “I promise you.”

  I fucking inhaled. “Good.” Grasping the back of her leg, I urged her forward.

  She stepped between my thighs.

  I stroked her soft flesh. “Did I tell you I didn’t give a shit about this?” I ran my thumb over a streak of her blood.

  She nodded.

  “Words,” I clipped.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t.” I stroked her again. “I also won’t lie to you.” She’d been through enough. “I want to fuck you.” I pressed my thumb with just enough pressure along the outside of her thigh. “I want to be inside you again.” I drew two fingers up and stroked between her legs. “Tightest cunt I ever felt.” And the sweetest, but I didn’t fucking tell her that.

  Biting her lip, her hands found my shoulders and she leaned in to me.

  I stroked through her heat again and pressed on her clit. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She shook her head.

  I narrowed my eyes, and my hand froze.

  “No,” she said, breathless. “Please don’t stop.”

  “NO,” I BEGGED. “PLEASE DON’T stop.”

  His fingers moved again, and I swayed like an ebb tide.

  He pressed his thumb, and my breath hitched.

  Then he stroked his thick fingers, and I was swaying again.

  Stroke, sway, press, shudder.

  Over and over, he played me like an instrument only he had the notes to. I didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to make me forget about the blood, or where we were, or what was happening outside the walls of this hideaway.

  He touched me and everything drifted away like the dust motes swirling in the moonlight that fell through the window. Lazy and directionless, they moved, and I floated.

  But I also breathed.

  Deep and cathartic, in through my nose, I filled my lungs. Every inhale he stroked me, and every exhale he pressed against my most sensitive spot and made me wetter.

  A need grew.

  Embers low in my belly became a burning heat, and my mouth went dry. I needed to taste him, his skin and the hard length he kept stroking with his huge hand.

  These were the thoughts, drifting aimless like the dust motes, that stole my mind in between every inhale and exhale, but when he shoved two fingers inside me, my breath caught and I froze.

  I remembered the blood and my liquid limbs tensed to breaking.

  Hot, wet, sticky—desire mixed with my lost virginity, and the very last remnants of my period, and it was all between my legs, and now it was going to be all over his hand.

  “Your fingers,” I half gasped, half groaned. “They’ll get….” I couldn’t say dirty. I couldn’t finish the sentence at all.

  He’d switched his angle, and the words he’d made me promise to always give him were stolen right out from under me. His touch was so deep inside me, making an indelible impression, that didn’t leave me a way to ever turn back or forget him, and I didn’t want one. I’d wanted to live, really live, and he was giving me everything I’d wanted. But my need was growing, and it wasn’t enough for him to just give. I needed to take. So on his next stroke, I did something I never would have done as the old me.

  I rutted.

  Like an animal.

  Carnal and unrehearsed, no rhythm, no fear, I fucked his hand.

  “Hell yes, sweetheart.” His low voice barely more than a growl, he pressed inside me harder. “You like that?”

  I loved it.

  Dirty and wrong, like the men we’d left lying on the dock, it was sinful… and it was everything.

  I wanted to ride him like I was riding his hand, but the notion of asking stuck in my throat.

  His thumb pressed harder, and his mouth found the swell of my stomach. Inching down with swirls of his tongue interlacing with nips of his teeth, I feared where he was going.

  But my hips wouldn’t stop moving, and my mouth wouldn’t speak, and my neck was losing its battle to hold my head proud.

  I wasn’t a lady. I wasn’t a Loic. I wasn’t even human.

  I was an animal that wanted what his gravelly voice had asked with sheer dominance.

  Do you want to come?

  The question still fresh in my mind, I forced a single word from my throat. “Yes.”

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how you come.” His mouth found the exact spot where his thumb had been, and I lost control.

  My back bowed.

  My knees gave out.

  And I exploded.

  His thick, solid arm wrapped around my waist as his tongue thrashed my most sensitive spot. His fingers deep, his breath hot, his tongue strong, he was everything and nothing I could have ever imagined.

  Before I could breathe, before the aftershocks of the orgasm had even dissipated, before I could form the thought of more, he was pulling me onto his lap and positioning himself.

  His fingers left my core, his mouth closed over mine, and he impaled me.

  Shock and pain stole every molecule of air from my lungs as his tongue, thick and laced with my taste, swept through my mouth.

  Stretched to my limit, my body froze.

  But he didn’t.

  His tongue coerced, his hands ran up my back, pressing me into him before his huge palms cradled my head and his fingers sifted through my hair.

  “Breathe, sweetheart.” He kissed my cheek, my temple. His mouth found my ear. “Breathe.”

  Gooseflesh chased the shiver up my spine.

  “This is as de
ep as I’m gonna go.” He pulsed inside me and kissed my neck as his hand dropped to my waist. “Stretch for me, love. Let me move.” Guiding me, moving my hip against his, he snuck his thumb between our bodies and circled my clit.

  The hint of a tide shifting pushed at my senses, and the burning pain became something more.

  “That’s it, sweetheart.” He stroked my clit again and pressed me down as he angled up.

  Something much, much more.

  Wetness flooded deep inside me, and I sucked in a sharp breath. “Ty.”

  “Fuck yeah, baby, that’s it. That’s what I wanted from your sweet cunt.” He grasped my hips and ground into me hard and fast just once. Then letting out a half grunt, half growl, he brought back the control in his movements, and he drove in and out of me slow and measured. “Feel good?”

  Unbelievably, indescribably good. “Yes,” I moaned, pushing my hands up his hard biceps and wrapping my arms around his neck. “So very good.”

  His dark-eyed gaze devoured me with a fierce expression for a single heartbeat, then a devastating smile spread across his face as he winked.

  My heart slipped out of my grasp.

  BARELY HOLDING ON TO MY control, I drove into her slow. “Feel good?”

  Her whole gorgeous face went soft as she stared into my eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, running her hands up my arms and grabbing the back of my neck. “So very good,” she breathed.

  I lost my fucking mind.

  Then, because I’d lost it and I didn’t give one single damn that I was catapulting toward disaster with her, I fucking smiled. But I didn’t just smile, I winked. Like a tool, like a player, like a man who ate the motherfucking proverbial canary, I winked because I had her.

  I fucking had her.

  The sweetest goddamn victory and prize all rolled into one that I’d ever tasted. Her soft curves putty in my hands, and her tight pussy wet as hell for me, I felt like I’d won.

  Then a concept I’d never fucking thought about hit my thick skull like an IED detonating.

  She was mine.

  Fucking mine.

  No man had ever been inside this woman but me.

  I’d fucked virgins before. I knew what the fuck I was feeling the second I’d popped her cherry. But the difference was I’d never cared before. I hadn’t fucked a virgin since before I’d enlisted, and back then all I’d given a shit about was getting my own.

  But now I was staring at a gorgeous woman getting off on my cock, knowing no other prick had ever fucking gone where I was going, and goddamn it, I wasn’t just stroking in and out with my dick, I was fucking her with more than my body. I wanted to fill her sweet cunt and come over and over. Then I wanted to do that shit again.

  I wanted my seed running down her leg, I wanted to be the mess between her legs, and for once in my life, I thought about what-if.

  What if I kept her? What if I took her again? What if I didn’t walk away? That shit chanted in my head, and I opened my fucking mouth.

  Grabbing her hair, pulling her head back, I latched my mouth onto her throat. “You still thinking you want more?” Fuck, I wanted to come inside this woman a thousand times, then start over and do it all again.

  Sweet and soft, she moaned, “Yes.” Then she clamped down on my dick. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Fuck me. “Good,” I growled, taking her hips again. “I’m coming inside you.”

  Pulling her down as I thrust up, I drove in once hard.

  Her back bowed, and she fucking let go. “Ahhh!”

  I was done for.

  Holding her tight, I fucking pounded into her and I came. Goddamn, I came. Her tight cunt filling with my hot seed, she shook. My eyes swam to the back of my head, and for one single fucking moment, every goddamn thing was perfect.

  Then it got fucking better.

  I fell back, she landed on me, and our sweat mixed. Her hair stuck to my chest, my dick was covered in her blood and my come, and her small hands flattened on my chest before she did the last fucking thing I expected.

  She kissed me. Right over my heart.

  Sweet and soft like her, her lips touched the only place on my body I didn’t trust, then she laid her cheek against me and went lax.

  Her virginity was a gift I never should’ve been given. But that kiss? No woman had ever kissed me like that, not even my own mother. I rubbed a hand up her back, and my voice came out rough. “Thank you.” Jesus, I didn’t deserve this woman.

  “Thank you,” she whispered back.

  I twisted her thick hair around my fist, already hating the inevitable moment when she’d climb off me. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” So fucking innocent, it crushed me, she kissed my bruised ribs. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine.” Unlike every other woman I’d ever been with, this woman had fucked-up thoughts of permanence filling my head faster than I could drive them away, and I was opening my mouth. “Why can’t you get pregnant?”

  “Because I have my period.”

  I pushed her up so I could see her face.

  Her gaze, spent and satiated, met mine as a shy smile touched her full lips.

  My heart fucking skipped, but I schooled my expression. “So you can have kids?” I had Nash I had to help raise. I didn’t need to be thinking about this shit. I wasn’t keeping her, and she wasn’t keeping me. I couldn’t afford her even if I’d wanted to keep her. Half my salary I socked away in an account I’d set up for Nash for when he turned eighteen or when I died, whichever the fuck came first. So I had no business asking, and zero fucking business even thinking about whether or not this woman could have kids.

  But then she smiled hesitantly and destroyed my sanity. “Well, yes. But not right now. Not when… you know…” Her voice quieted. “I have my period.”

  I fucking blinked. “So you were just feeding me a line?”

  “No, I mean, well, yes, but it was true and…” Her cheeks flamed and her voice turned hesitant. “I thought that’s what every man wanted to hear?”

  Jesus fucking Christ, this woman.

  I laughed.

  Looking horrified, her eyes went wide as hell. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because you’re fucking funny. Come on.” I yanked the sheet off the couch and wrapped it around her as I grabbed the backs of her thighs and stood.

  She gasped. “Ty!”

  “What?” I hadn’t noticed my ribs when I was fucking her, but now I was.

  “Your injury. You can’t carry me.”

  “I can do any damn thing I want.” I lifted her higher. “Wrap your leg around me, woman.”

  No hesitation, she did as I said.

  Wondering how the fuck I was going to let her go in a couple hours, I carried her upstairs to the shower.

  HE WASHED ME.

  Leaving my arm bandaged, he carefully soaped every inch of me from head to toe.

  But he’d stopped talking. And smiling.

  Intent, serious, he’d stripped me, put me in the shower, then taken the soap and set to task.

  Not sure if I could touch him, I studied him.

  From his thick thighs to his ridged abdomen to his broad, strong shoulders and huge biceps, his body was pure muscular perfection. But the perfection ended there. He was scarred almost everywhere. It made the bruising already coloring his ribs seem almost appropriate.

  A scattering of small lances peppered his right thigh. Three small round scars were grouped on his left shoulder. A scar the size and shape of a pen traveled across the side of his neck where it met his shoulder, like someone had drawn it there. And when he squatted to wash between my legs, I saw a scar that looked like road rash covering the back of his shoulder.

  But the most shocking was the cluster of slit-sized scars on the left side on his abdomen. I was sure they were knife wounds. There were five of them, and I couldn’t imagine getting stabbed five times.

  When he stood back up to his full height, I couldn’t help myself. I touched them.

  He didn’t flinc
h, and I hadn’t expected him to. They weren’t fresh scars like the one on his neck, but he stepped back.

  “Go dry off.” His voice rough, he moved under the spray.

  I shifted out of his way, but I didn’t leave the shower.

  His eyes closed, rinsing himself off, he didn’t look like a fearless killer. He looked like a wounded warrior, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d told me he didn’t date women more than once.

  Date.

  I almost laughed at the absurdity of a man like him on a date. I’d been on plenty of dates, usually with men my father introduced me to at the bank. Men who wore suits and glasses and whose middles were soft and smiles were eager.

  Ty Asher was not that.

  Not even close.

  I couldn’t imagine him owning a suit, and I knew he would never date me.

  He’d said as much, and I wasn’t going to lie to myself that this could go anywhere. I’d asked for more from him because I’d had to. The old me had to. I’d had ideas of grandeur about love since as long as I could remember. A pretty package all wrapped up in a perfect husband and a perfect life and perfect kids and everything calm and sweet and organized and stable.

  One look at the man in the shower in front of me and those dreams were less than a single breath of air.

  I knew that.

  I’d prepared myself for that.

  I’d told myself before I asked him to unknowingly take my virginity that this, that he, would be a memory the second we walked out of this unfinished house.

  But then he’d smiled at me.

  His hard length buried so deep inside me, I didn’t know where he began or I ended, and he’d smiled. My heart had been racing full throttle away from me ever since.

  Except now I was standing here, seeing this incredible man naked who’d washed my body as if I were the most precious thing on earth to him, and he wasn’t smiling or talking, but hiding a brewing storm behind his stony expression. I couldn’t help but take in his scarred body and imagine the hell he’d lived through to bear such marks of survival. And now, even more than before, I didn’t want this to end when we left here.

  I didn’t want it to end at all.

  He felt like the first real thing in my life, and I wanted to grasp hold of it and live, really live.