by Gina Kincade
She'd never get a guy based just on her looks, or have the luxury of waiting to fall in love. No, she would have to be married off long before that. But, she was fine with that. Marriages of convenience were more prevalent than anyone liked to admit in her world. To hear the girls at school go on about their parents was proof enough. Sometimes she wished she had a mother to ask things of, about all the crap that rolled off the tongues of the girls at school. Yet, she didn't, and she'd turned out just fine. Well, until the past few weeks, trapped with these goons paid to protect her. They'd taken her to whatever hairdresser they found, the one closest to wherever they'd had her shacked up, not the most reputable. Her long, mahogany locks were starting to show it. She fingered a big curl, less tamed than usual, and grimaced at the mirror on the back of the door, feeling sorry for herself. This was outrageous.
She formed a plan to march out there, demand to be taken shopping, to have her hair, and her nails done properly, and then be fed an appropriately edible meal. He felt sorry for her, so maybe this one would work out, attend to her needs as he should. The grin she flashed the mirror should have made her feel better. It didn't. Instead, with some odd sensation growing in the pit of her stomach, she let her hefty body fall to the sorry excuse for a bed, wincing as the springs loudly protested.
She let the brief image she'd gathered upon meeting Jason form in her brain. Solid. Tough. As they all were. Yet, she'd wanted to run her hand over the scruff on his face. She let herself off the hook for that one, deeming it some sort of curiosity with all the clean-cut type she normally met, dressed to the nines in high-priced suits. Jason's warm brown eyes had literally twinkled when he'd smiled at her, as if the man, any man for that matter, could be genuinely happy to see her. The small, dark curl of his hair around his ear, on his neck, had looked soft, inviting to touch, leaving her breathless and dumbfounded prior to being shown quickly to her room so Derrick could complain about her. The desires had disappeared quickly when she'd heard Derrick's voice, but now knowing she was alone in a small condo with the maybe nice guy, who felt sorry for her, something akin to lust laced in irritation rolled through her tightly held core. Becoming suddenly conscious of resting her hand on the soft pouch of her stomach, she couldn't help but wonder how hard Jason's abs must be.
She didn't even realize the thought of teasing her hand across his firm stomach brought a slight quirk to her full lips as smile spread across her mouth.
Chapter Two
Jason Majors decided this was the most unusual case he'd ever had in his protective services career. A full time rancher and a part-time bodyguard for his best friend's firm, Jason knew his job and did it well, every single time. Up until now, that is.
Sure, he had watched out for and cared for some pretty big names in this business, but this one stood out beyond anyone he'd been assigned to prior.
Sequestered in a private school for more than half her life, young Miss Caruthers was nothing more than an ordinary rich man's kid, really, but her Daddy was an honest man–a rarity in the political world–and he'd apparently pissed off the wrong people because of it. Sadly, honest or not, he'd raised a monster. One had to feel sorry for the guy, though. Surely he felt the need to make up for her not having a mother the only way he had the time and means to, by giving her everything he could, buying her stuff. Boarding school raised her.
To make the case for his assumptions, Kathryn presented as a typical little rich girl: Daddy's materialistic, spoiled brat used to getting everything she wanted. So, basically this case should have been simple with the ordinary, run-of the mill stalker out to payback the Senator for refusing a bribe, right? Wrong, it had been anything but ordinary. He'd catered to her every demand so far, these first days with her, honestly feeling sorry for her. He didn't believe she had a true friend in the world, and she definitely didn't have family in any real sense of the word. He figured he was being paid enough to take care of her in the manner she was accustomed to, or at least some semblance of it that he could pull off. What else did he have to do? It was his job to just stick by her, watch her, protect her as she lived her life as normally as she could under 'house arrest,' as she'd called it. He'd done his best to do his work. He just wished being around her wasn't such a physical hardship. Regardless of her attitude issues, a personality that needed some work through no real fault of her own, that body of hers... Well, there was a specific kind of suffering being around a woman who resembled a goddess in his eyes. Kathryn had every physical attribute he craved the way a pregnant woman craved food so bad it became a need.
"Stop it!" he chided himself, slamming his hand holding the remote down onto the couch, clutching the plastic control with a force that made his fingers ache. If his grip were any harder he'd crumble the stupid thing.
Bored with the random flicking through the channels–he wasn't paying attention to the images on the screen anyway–he pressed the power button and stared as the screen went dark. Standing with a stretch to rouse his tightened muscles, he sauntered into the kitchenette, and grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, slipped out the sliding glass door, careful to leave it open just a crack behind him.
It was so unseasonably warm for early June here in California this year; he was starting to sweat already. Taking a long, slow swig from the bottle, he sighed audibly, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the wall. Filthy habit, smoking, he knew, but one he only indulged in on rare occasions and likely out of sheer boredom.
His attentive nature automatically alerted him to the man standing in the parking lot of the condo looking under the hood of his car and shaking his head. Somewhat suspicious, really, since the guy hadn't touched a thing yet. Jason watched him for a minute, mentally committing the guy's attributes to memory as he pulled smoke down deep into his lungs. Overhearing a one-sided conversation, assuming was the dude requesting a tow truck, his gut instinct determined the guy no true threat, and his gaze traveled on. The old lady walking her dog down the block did not even catch more than a glance. Scanning the entire visually accessible area in no time flat, he decided all was secure, figuring perhaps it was just too damn hot for many people to bother coming out tonight, even a stalker.
This was the fourth place they had taken the young lady, and he was the third man on the job; their best this time, according to Pete. His friend's last chance, really. It was getting to be too much, the pressure of this high profile client. Both he and Pete were worried they had a leak on the inside. The damn jerk always managed to find her, slipping notes under the door of her location no matter where they were, getting bolder each time. Besides her locations being compromised, the other two guys who'd had this job before him couldn't handle her anyway, and he'd started to understand why.
Drawing deep on his cigarette once again, he held the tainted breath for a moment and then exhaled loudly, the smoke getting caught in front of him in the still slightly muggy night air. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a faint light on in Kathryn's bedroom through a part in the curtains. Damn woman! He'd told her to shut them tight. She presented a challenge in more ways than one. Definitely more, many more, ways than any other client he'd ever taken on.
Leaning slightly to the left, he realized he could see straight into her room where she lay on the bed, covered only by a thin sheet, the outline of her curvaceous body revealed as clear as if the sheet did not exist. His gaze followed the curve of the rounded nature of her breasts until he found himself perusing along her waist, then up over the small rise of her mound. He forced his stare to trace over the outline of her hips, more than generous for a man to grab hold of and...
Another deep drag of the cigarette helped him semi-refocus his wayward thoughts. Holding the smoke in, shutting his eyes tight, he willed away the glimmer of a desire to spank her for leaving the curtains open, reminding himself this young woman was his charge, not his consenting, willing partner. The dominant in him had taken quite the blow to his ego dealing with this woman these past few days. Shit, how he wante
d to tame her, train her to obey his commands, to keep her safe despite the post's necessity.
Damn, something about this woman attracted him to her, and it seriously mucked with his professionalism in a huge way. Some kind of sizzling energy seemed to spasm in his gut any time she came into his immediate vicinity. Even now, as she lie sleeping, he had this uncanny weird feeling rushing through his veins and making his heart thud in his chest. He didn't get it. Not one of his charges before her had ever had this kind of effect on him. None of the women he'd know in his life had, for that matter. So why did his libido go into overdrive in response to this particular full-figured vixen with her soft looking, light mahogany curls trailing across the pillow? He was losing his edge over a spoiled little rich girl, for Christ sake! Apparently to his baser desires, when faced with such a voluptuous body, her attitude became a non-issue. It made no sense. He'd told himself quite a few times the poor girl was just a product of her upbringing, that the depth of a good woman just laid in wait under all of the privileged nonsense. Still, he couldn't justify the thought process or time he'd spent on it given she was literally a charge, a non-touchable mission to serve and protect. Of course, she gave new meaning to the word serve, and he'd no idea why he'd been waiting on her hand and foot to some degree. Wasn't like he was getting laid for his efforts. The idea of disciplining her grew as a more appealing idea daily.
Knowing it wrong, and he could get himself fired for it, he moved closer to the window as she rolled toward him in her sleep. The sheet had slipped down when she'd turned onto her side, revealing the most perfect set of pale, supple globes he had ever seen. Natural, too, which in this day and age was a rarity. She's been over-endowed by the gods, though, and his mouth watered with the thoughts of suckling on the rich flesh.
He just stood there, marveling at the way the diffused light from the bedside table only enhanced his view. His mind began to fill with thoughts, images of things he definitely shouldn't be envisioning.
He twisted away from the tantalizing image between the parted curtains, not even realizing he'd formed his left hand into a tight fist. Not before noticing she had her window open just a little as well, however. Holy Christ! Does this woman ever do what she is told? The imprint of his wide hand outlined in red on her ass came to mind, and he suddenly flexed his clenched hand, his fingers spread as if to spank the delectable large mounds.
Grinding out his cigarette with the toe of his pointed cowboy boot, he opened the sliding door and moved to go back inside when he heard a noise that sounded almost like an animal in pain. Moving quickly across the short span to her bedroom door, he called, "Kathryn, is everything okay?" Silence greeted him in response.
He shrugged, figuring it must have been a cat in heat outside her window or the like. She did have the damned thing open. He should go in and close it for her, but he didn't actually trust himself to walk through the room with her in such a state of undress. He'd be more than justified in doing so, of course, but the risks remained too great that no matter how it played out he would get fired. He couldn't risk that. Nothing posed a threat outside. He'd just made sure of it. More than wide awake, vigilantly attentive, he'd hear any changes.
Leaving the sliding glass door open to catch the light breeze that had drawn up, but closing the screen door to keep the bugs out, he strolled back to the living room and flopped back down on the couch with an audible sigh. Turning on the television, he lowered the volume until he could barely hear it, and began to aimlessly channel surf again. How he hated the night shift; sometimes it could be so damn long. Pictures flashed before him, meaningless, too fast to even discern what they were. Not that it mattered.
Within moments the strangled sound rang out again. Jabbing the mute button, he immediately cut the sound to the television completely. Jason rolled up off the afghan-covered old furniture and trotted back to the sliding door. Damn it, he couldn't see shit through the screen. Pushing the feeble visual obstruction to the side with a finger, he stepped out onto the brick-covered patio, slamming the flimsy, mesh-covered aluminum behind him.
Scanning the area once more, his steely gaze came to rest on the barest movement in a thatch of thick, shadowy green bushes about ten feet away. Glancing back at the entranceway to the condo and the curtain parted beside it, he crept over to the bushes, moving cautiously and quieter as he got closer. He launched himself at the shrubbery just as two cats darted out from beneath the boughs. He landed, hard, grabbing nothing but air.
"Shit!" Getting up and dusting himself off, he glanced around at the empty premises, thankful no one appeared to have witnessed his stupidity. Strolling back to the open door of the unit at a hurried pace, although he hated to prove Derrick right, he contemplated again about leaving this job. Some of the shit things he had to do just didn't seem worth the blow to his ego anymore. Besides, he'd been working for Pete for over a decade now, and he'd been seriously considering just focusing his efforts on the ranch before this job even came up. Sighing, he promised himself he'd give it one more week, his best shot, for his friendship, and because he knew Pete really needed him on this right now. The Senator was too big a client for Pete to lose, and Jason was the best man for the job. He just seriously hoped it didn't take that long to catch this jackass running about the streets causing havoc for the Senator and his daughter, not to mention all the guys at the agency.
Just as he moved to go back into the condo, the sound, more like a moan now, drifted to his ears again, but this time he heard it clearly coming through the open window of the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to go looking in on her while she slept. If he didn't look, though, she could be in some danger. It was his ass on the line as well as her life. Worst case, he might see that voluptuous body again, with those absolutely perfect boobs with their pink, ripe nipples. Groaning inwardly, he peeked through the window, observing her still on the bed, the sheet completely off this time. She couldn't have looked more ideal, her body more inviting than she did; right down to her perfectly manicured patch of hair between her thighs. She was alone, thankfully, on all accounts. Ironically, with his thoughts constantly derailing to devouring her well cared for human form, hearing her scream his name as he plunged deep into the heated apex between her thick thighs, he stood as the only true threat to her at this moment.
Just about to move away by sheer force of will, he detected something new in the vocal harmony emanating from her throat. Her guttural moans seemed to be akin to some sort of pleasure, apparently, despite the fact she remained alone. Obviously enjoying a nice dream. I can only guess what it's about.
He knew he should walk away, now, before he got himself in too deep. He shouldn't continue to gaze upon her with the physical reaction she had on him. Nothing actually threatened her. He didn't have to save her from her dreams, or even nightmares. Regardless, he stood outside the window and stared like a perverted stalker. Oh dear lord, her long, dark auburn-streaked curls spread out on the pillow around her, that curvaceous body, and those long legs with the artfully painted crimson toes were near about killing him. Damn, he could imagine her solid thighs wrapped tight around his hips as he thrust into her heat. The mental combination stopped him. She was simply so damn distracting, so delicious, so...fucking perfect. He'd always found women with more meat on their bones to turn his crank a hell of a lot more than the skin-on-a-stick type. Skinny wasn't his thing. Well, if it weren't for her prissy little rich bitch attitude, and the fact he was on a job he was supposed to be focusing on, she'd be a perfect match for the type of woman he preferred.
Feeling a painful thickness begin to develop behind his zipper at her continued pleasurable sounds, knowing in his gut she must truly be enjoying something pretty heavy in her dreams, he moved just an inch to make himself a little more comfortable, leaning heavily against the wall. He watched, enraptured as she slid her hand from where she'd been fondling her breast to down between her creamy thighs, dipping into the crevice and back out, repeatedly, and ever so gently.
Oh shit, now he was well and truly hooked. This up close and almost personal show stimulated more than anything he'd perused over the Internet when his libido got the better of him and release was a necessity. He wasn't a porn addict or anything, not by a long shot, but he definitely admitted to enjoying the scenes created with the intent to help him along the way to self-satisfaction when necessary. He was human, after all.
He hated himself at the moment, though. Self-loathing and raging hormones battled within. Even as his conscience told him to step the fuck away from that window, right now, his traitorous body encouraged him to stay put. As much as he knew this was wrong, he was taking advantage of his charge's innocence which made him feel much like a dirty old man, he could not move away even if he wanted to–which, truth be told, he didn't want to at all. The universe evidently decided to justify his continued appreciation of this beautiful woman. Kathryn definitely no longer dreamed, and evidently decided to continue the gratifying activity that had begun in her dream.
As Jason watched, like the stalker he'd sworn to protect her from, she opened her legs to allow easier access. He had a perfect view of those pink, glistening lips as she continued to rub her clit with one perfectly manicured thumb. He groaned as two of her red-tipped fingers dipped lower and finally pushed into her glorious, slick pussy. Holy Christ, this was enough to make a man mad! Creeping her like this, he felt more like a 'Peeping Tom' then a bodyguard! This was so not in his employment description, but here he was.
Her fevered pitch had increased to quite a loud level he began to wonder if the neighbors would hear her. Knowing he'd lose his job, probably ending his career entirely and losing his best friend in the process if he were caught, he still could not tear himself away from the damn window and the extremely stimulating scene happening just on the other side of those curtains! He knew in his gut he was very close to embarrassing himself. Not to mention he had a lot to lose here. Oddly, none of it seemed to matter in the face of seeing her like this. Fragile, all the hoity-toity, holier-than-thou attitude had disappeared and in its place remained a woman so full of passion it intrigued him all the more.