Surrendering to the Bodyguard

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by Asha Daniels


  “You’re very special. I hope you know that.”

  “Only because you tell me.”

  She had no idea what she’d become, how important in his life. He crawled onto the bed, pressing kisses along her chest, sucking on first one nipple then the other. “Turn over.”

  “Sir?” she managed, the sound husky.

  “I said, turn over.”

  Her body stiff, she did as she was told, turning over onto her stomach.

  He rubbed his fingers down her spine then eased her body further up on the bed, positioning her hands against the iron posts. Easing two pillows under her stomach, he opened her legs then patted her ass. “Relax.”

  “Yes, sir.” She pressed her face against the comforter, a smile on her face.

  Cutter moved back onto the floor, watching her for a full minute before pulling a bag from the closet. While he hadn’t brought the straps for this purpose, they would do nicely to secure her to the bed. He wrapped the leather coil around her wrist, twisting the strap around until he was able to fasten it. Repeating the move with her other arm, he stood back after he was finished, admiring his work and the woman lying in wait.

  “You look perfect.” He heard the almost savage tone of his voice, heard the slight echo in his ears. He moved her long hair to the side, exposing her neck then rubbed his fingers down her back to her ass, tapping first one ass cheek then the other. Red marks remained but they’d faded, the previous spanking little more than a light tap. He chuckled at the thought. He wanted nothing more than for her to wear his marks for days, always. Yes, he could envision his marks covering her legs and ass, her back. The thought was riveting.

  He moved toward the dresser, grabbing his belt. For tonight, for this moment, the strap was the implement of choice. The light outside was gray, creating shadows in the room and he stood in the back, watching her reaction. She didn’t struggle, only testing the bindings once. Her face held a sense of peace, a look of excitement. She was surrendering.

  He folded the belt, rubbing his fingers on the leather. Yes, he’d whipped several women during the last few years, but none meant as much as this. He opened her legs and patted her ass, caressing both ass cheeks until her breathing became even.

  Then he moved next to the bed, holding his breath.

  Crack!

  The single smack was positioned perfectly, hitting the middle of her ass.

  “Oh!” She pulled her arms then both hands grabbed the leather straps holding her in position, yet her legs stayed exactly where he’d placed them.

  Smack! Pop!

  The sound the belt made whooshing through the air was powerful, forcing his heart to beat in an irregular fashion.

  Crack! Slap!

  His snapped his wrist, the angle perfect and his mind reeled around her acceptance. She wanted more. Craved more.

  Pop! Slap!

  With each hard strike, she jerked less and less, her cries becoming moans.

  Crack! Pop!

  He was sweating, a slick string running down both sides of his face. He swallowed and wiped his mouth, falling into a peaceful place of his own.

  Smack! Whoosh!

  He slapped her upper thighs, keeping the strikes even, the command of his strength perfectly controlled. But he was hungry, losing grip of his own needs.

  Pop! Slap!

  “Oh!” She moaned, no longer jerking, her fingers relaxing.

  The place of ecstasy was powerful, a haunting draw and he could tell on her face the zone of raw ecstasy.

  Pain and pleasure. Agony and ecstasy.

  She belonged to him.

  Smack! Crack!

  When she’d had enough, he thought of her drive to be perfect and coiled the belt, placing the strap on top of his clothes. He wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft, pumping up and down, his hand twisting. Just for a moment. Just for a sense of relief. There would be no release until he was inside of her.

  “Sir…” The word lingered in the air, creating an almost urgent need.

  Moving behind her, he kept his hand wrapped around his shaft as he positioned the tip of his cock at her pussy. Leaning over, he growled, “Now, I’m going to fuck both your holes.”

  “Mmm…”

  He thrust his dick inside her cunt, the force pushing her hard into the bed. Her pussy muscles instantly clamped around him, drawing him in deeper. Allowing a breath to escape, he pulled out until just the tip was inside. Then he drove into her again. And again. Using the power of his thigh muscles he was able to control, to maintain his stance and he was churning with need, his skin prickling, his face swimming in sweat.

  “Yes!” She flexed her fingers and while she couldn’t move, she jutted back her ass, as if trying to meet every hard thrust.

  Cutter continued fucking her, driving in and out, his rhythm practiced. Panting, he smacked her ass several times, adoring the loud cracking sound, her intense moans. He wanted to drive his cock as deep inside as possible, filling her. Taking her. He was losing his grip, his needs rushing to the surface.

  When he pulled all the way out, dropping his head, allowing beads of sweat to fall on the small of her back, he could still hear her moans of raw desire, guttural and anguished. He caught his breath and slipped the tip of his dick to her dark hole. When he slid the tip inside, there was less resistance. She was yearning for him, relaxing her body, so prepared for him to devour her.

  “Fuck me. Please, sir. Fuck me.”

  Tossing back his head, he penetrated her asshole, shoving his entire dick inside and roaring. “Yes!”

  “Oh. Oh!” Her body shook as he thrust in and out, her moans peppered with whimpers.

  He was on fire, his legs shaking to the point he struggled to remain in control. Yet he wanted more. More time. More of her. More of everything. Harder and faster he pumped, wincing as his balls became anguished, so painful and so full. He wasn’t going to be able to hold back long.

  “Yes. Yes!” She panted, twisting her body, her face contorted.

  He thrust in deep, taking her. Filling her. Yes, this was perfect. This was everything. Grunting, he could no longer focus as every action became savage, his testicles swinging back and forth. He was losing control, losing his grip. More. Yes! Harder. Faster. “Yes. Yes!” As every muscle tensed, he gripped her hips before exploding deep inside, filling her asshole with his cum.

  While she filled his heart with her love.

  When he was finished shaking, he released her bindings then crawled next to her, curling close but not touching. Not yet. He needed to see her face, study her eyes.

  She blinked, a slight smile on her face. Then she said the words once again that would forever chill him and on this dark afternoon, as the snow began to fall, he was taken back to his private prison then released.

  “I love you.”

  * * *

  Jasmine swam up from a dream, the beautiful mountains and twisting trees creating a surreal setting. Sniffing, she managed to open her eyes and the darkness almost terrified her. Then she sniffed again and smiled. Bacon. Rolling over, she winced and bit back a moan, one of utter pain. The man had whipped her ass as if trained. She shifted again, this time savoring the way the sheets scraped across her ass. If only he’d remained in bed. Her mind swirled around their heated passion, his kisses and the way he’d held her.

  She eased out of bed, feeling her way to the dresser, and felt for his clothes. The shirt remained exactly as she’d folded it, placed with such care on top of the dresser.

  Smiling, she eased the belt from the top, holding the strap under her nose. The scent of leather was strong, so masculine, and she inhaled, remembering the intensity of their lovemaking, the way he’d rubbed her from head to toe before releasing her bindings. The man was incredible.

  He was also in desperate anguish.

  She gently positioned the belt before grabbing his shirt. When she slid into the sleeves, she shuddered. There was no need to study her reflection to know the shirt fit her like a dress.
She took comfort in the fact, the scent of him, the feel of the roughness against her skin, her bruised ass. Fastening a few buttons, she ran her hands through her hair as a giggle slipped past her lips. My God, she was practically giddy with happiness.

  Could this last, or would he shift back into his padlocked box?

  No, she refused to think about anything other than right now, perhaps tomorrow. As she padded downstairs, she could hear the wind howling, beating limbs against the house. The crackle of the fire as well as the warm glow was comforting, and she eased into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway. “Howdy, stranger.” Standing in his jeans and bare feet, hovering over the stove, she knew he had to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

  He also had the gun positioned in the waistband of his pants. The constant reminder of the danger they were in.

  Tipping his head, he gave her a heated look, his eyes gazing down to her feet then back to her face. “I like the attire. Suits you.”

  She rubbed her hands down the front of the shirt. “I do too. Special tailor.”

  Cutter chuckled as he forked the bacon from the pan, turning off the burner. “We didn’t have dinner.”

  “Well, we kind of did.” The taste of his cum lingered in her mouth. She inched closer, inhaling. Her eyes darted down to the pistol, a sliver of fear replacing joy. She’d never seen anyone shot or been near this kind of situation. “What else are we having?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Pasta? Wine?”

  He shrugged, his eyes housing a forbidden moment then a quiet sadness. “Only if you’re willing to help.”

  “I’m always willing to help.” They remained quiet as she moved through the kitchen, searching for various ingredients. She was surprised when he poured two glasses of wine, even shocked when he turned on some music, allowing the mellow sounds of jazz to fill the air. There were so many layers to this man, so many aspects of his personality to learn.

  He moved to the window, peering outside, a glass of wine in his hand. “The snow is very light, barely sticking.”

  “Maybe we won’t have the storm at all.”

  “I think it’s just beginning.”

  “You’re worried,” she said as she turned on the burner and pulled spaghetti from the single box.

  “Cautious. I don’t like the quiet. I can’t stand the not knowing. I feel like there are details I missed.” Cutter took a sip of wine, his eyes scanning, shifting back and forth.

  “The gun never leaves your side.”

  “No.” The single word was succinct.

  A cold shiver hovered over her bare legs, sliding into her toes. This was no game, no concept of fantasy. She waited until the water boiled, tossing in the pasta before reaching for her wine. “Do you really think my father has anything to do with this?”

  He slowly turned his head, nodding toward the table. “See for yourself.”

  Eyeing the newspaper, she huffed before heading to the table. He’d left the page open and folded. She yanked the crumpled paper into her fingers, sighing the moment she noticed her father’s face and that of his entire team, their faces beaming, clapping for the photographer. Then she took a closer look at her father, his expression that of a King standing in front of his kingdom. “Mr. Winston Rush announced from the steps of the capital today his candidacy for President of the United States. Way to go, Daddy. Your daughter is in hiding and you’re moving forward with your life.” Tossing down the paper on the counter, she slapped her hand on the granite, jarring her wine. “Why does the man hate me so much?”

  “I doubt he hates you. He may think this will draw out the attacker. The FBI could have suggested that he go ahead and do this. I wouldn’t put it past them.”

  “Wow. Interesting tactics for the good ol’ Feds. I knew my father was going to announce. Everybody did.” Just not now.

  “What about his enemies? Do you know who they are?”

  She laughed as she moved behind him, daring to place her hand on his back. “I honestly don’t know. I think there are many men who want to be in his position, but Daddy never talks about his law practice, or his politics.”

  Cutter nodded before turning to face her. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and gave her a slight smile. “I’m certain the FBI are investigating every concern.”

  “But you think differently than they do.”

  “Than the FBI? Perhaps. I just know that usually these kinds of attacks are very personal. There is a distinct reason you’re the target. That’s what the agents are trying to figure out. We shall see.”

  “What happens after we leave?”

  “When you’re safe?”

  She shrugged before walking back to the water, grabbing a spoon out of the drawer. “Yes, when the threat is gone. What will you do?”

  “Another job.”

  “And us?”

  Cutter didn’t blink as he walked toward her. “Day at a time. That’s all I can think about right now.”

  “Of course. Never planning.” She was worn down by the fear and worry, as well as her concern for the man she’d fallen in love with.

  “My work takes me all over the world.”

  “I understand that. I’m not asking to get married.” When she noticed the slip of horror on his face, she laughed.

  “That’s a good thing, sweetheart,” he murmured as he moved behind her, taking the wooden spoon from her hand. “I’m not the marrying type. You couldn’t stand to live with a man like me.”

  “Why is that? Messy? Coming home late?” She tipped her head back, resting against his chest.

  Leaning down, he captured her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside.

  She closed her eyes, the passion roaring once again. As their tongues entwined, she moaned, her nipples hardening. She wanted this man more than she dared to say.

  When he broke the kiss, he pressed his lips against her forehead. “Something like that.”

  “Give me back my spoon!”

  “Hmmm…” Cutter grinned as he twisted the spoon in the air. “I can think of more than one use. Easing his wine onto the counter, he lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing her naked ass.

  Smack! Crack!

  “Ouch! It’s not morning yet,” she whimpered.

  Pop! Slap!

  “In my world, morning is any time of the day.”

  Smack! Pop!

  “You are terrible,” she teased and turned down the water, gripping the edge of the stove and opening her legs wide.

  Crack! Pop!

  “And you love every second,” Cutter growled and slipped the spoon between her legs, rubbing the handle up and down her pussy. “Someone is very wet.”

  “You keep me that way.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Slap! Pop!

  She shivered, her entire body tingling. He was trying to let go, to allow her in, to open up to the world, forgiving the man he’d become. She didn’t want to think about the future, or any disturbing possibilities.

  Smack! Crack!

  “I’m a good girl.”

  “You’re a very disobedient girl, but I can help with that.”

  Pop! Slap! Whack! Crack!

  As he continued smacking her, her head dropped, the steam of the water creating sweat beading along her hairline.

  Slap! Pop!

  “You look good in red.” Cutter wrapped his arm around her waist, flexing his fingers open, rubbing his crotch back and forth across her ass.

  “You keep that up and we won’t finish making dinner.”

  “I know what kind of food I prefer.” Easing his hand between her legs, he rubbed his fingers around her clit.

  “God!” Her legs threatened to buckle, and she licked her dry lips, goosebumps appearing along her naked skin.

  He turned her around, lifting and placing her on the counter, using his arm to push away the items on top.

  Clangs and whooshing sounds rattled, echoing in the kitchen.

  “Oh!” S
quealing, she was pushed down until her head dangled over the edge. She lifted her arms as he widened her legs, spreading them open until the cool air shifted across her shorn pussy. “Cutter.”

  “I am very hungry.” Grunting, he dropped his head, burying his face into her cunt.

  She panted and stared up at the ceiling, her mouth slack as he feasted, his tongue swirling, driving her into a heightened state of sensations. She planted her heels on the edge of the island and moaned as he slid his hands under the shirttails, kneading her breasts.

  “Wet. Hot. Perfect,” he muttered and licked around her clit, growling as he dragged his tongue up and down the length of her pussy.

  “Oh, God!” The force of his actions slid her back up and down and she fell into a state of utter bliss, her vision becoming foggy, her mind moving to a surreal place. She was cognizant that he was pinching her nipples, twisting until she yelped from the pain. But the ecstasy was amazing, creating ripples of pleasure.

  “Such a bad girl.” His voice little more than a husky whisper, he continued pinching her nipples as he licked up to her stomach. “This is in the way.”

  Jerking up, she couldn’t help but grin as he unbuttoned the shirt, peeling back the edges. She could see the extreme hunger in his eyes, could tell he was losing control with her.

  And she wanted nothing more than for him to take what he wanted. To demand her submission as well as her obedience.

  Cutter toyed with the spoon, sliding the smooth wood across her chest and stomach, rubbing the handle down her inner thigh and back up the other.

  Snap!

  “Oh, shit!” Tears welled in her eyes the second he smacked the spoon against her pussy. The pain was different, stinging. Biting.

  Smack! Slap!

  Every move was practiced, careful and he wore a wry smile as he studied her face. “Pain and pleasure.”

  “Yes, sir.” She could barely whisper the words.

  Pop! Slap!

  He repeated the move then engulfed her pussy, his tongue thrusting inside.

  There wasn’t a portion of her body that wasn’t shaking, tingling as the desire swelled, encapsulating every part of her. Mind. Body. Soul. She was lost to the man wielding the spoon.

  And dear God, she wanted more.

 

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