by Amy Brent
“Wow,” I said. “You guys broke all the rules.”
“Nannie said you would say that, and she told me to say that that’s what her job was if you ever said it.”
“Oh, really? She told you to say that?”
“Yep! Did I do good?”
“You did perfect, sweetheart,” I said.
We had a wonderful day eating and walking around the zoo, and on the drive home, Lacey fell asleep. I knew she’d run hard and that the sun would wear her out, so I carried her to her bed, took off her shoes, and tucked her in tight. She looked so peaceful and always fell asleep with a slight smile on her face. I leaned over to kiss her forehead just before Bridget popped into my mind again. I hadn’t heard from her all day, and part of me was starting to get worried. I shut Lacey’s door and went to go get my phone.
Just wanted to check in with you. How are you doing?
I sent her the text message and sat on the couch. I knew I was opening up a massive can of worms by initiating the conversation, but when my phone buzzed in my hand, I knew it was no longer in my control.
If I lost my job, I lost my job, and I’d simply find another one.
I’m good. Just at home with Rachel, the girl from last night.
How’s she doing? I asked.
She’s good. I’m not sure what you did to get us home, but thank you.
You’re welcome, I said.
Thank you for last night, by the way. It was really nice.
About that… am I gonna have to look for a new job? I asked. It was a valid question, and one I needed an answer to. My stomach fell to my knees when I saw her number calling through.
Here goes nothing. “Hello?”
“Why the hell would you think you’d have to look for another job?”
“Because what we did last night crossed a very serious boundary between employer and employee,” I said.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re a contract worker and work for yourself, but that’s besides the point. You’re my favorite bodyguard I’ve ever had to employ. You’re not gonna need a new job. Especially with all the perks that come with you.”
I could hear the lustful sultriness in her voice, and my cock came to life. I swore her scent was still circling my nose, but I shook the thoughts of last night from my head and tried to reel in the conversation.
“Miss Meyers—”
“Bridget, please. We’re far past that boundary, don’t you think?”
“Yes, and that’s a problem,” I said. “Bridget, you’re a beautiful woman, but the truth is, I’m your employee, and I’m a single father. What happened last night was not ethical, and it can’t happen again.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “I was just teasing you. But let me just say, you are very skilled at what you do. I bet that tongue—”
“Bridget,” I said.
“All right, all right. Geez. Don’t get your panties in a bunch like I did last night. I promise nothing like that will happen again.”
“I’ll see you Monday morning,” I said.
“Unless I need you sooner,” she said.
“In which case, I’m only a phone call away. Have a good night, Bridget.”
“Oh, I will. I’ve got some wonderful memories to reflect on.”
She hung up the phone before I could respond, and I found myself wishing it wasn’t true. What happened last night was nothing short of perfection. The way her eyes screwed shut in pleasure, and the way her pussy molded exactly to my fingertips. She was spicy and innocent, all at the same time, and the way she begged me was incredible. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if she had pulled my cock out and let me feel that throat of hers wrapped around it.
My hand slid down my pants, and my legs spread wide on the couch. My balls were hanging low with need, and my cock was already leaking onto my pants. I pulled them down my ass and let my dick bounce against my stomach while I thought about how sexy she had sounded on the phone. The smoky lust that had filled her voice vibrated in the recesses of my ears while my hand grabbed my thick dick, and I slowly pumped to the memory of her thrusts.
I bet she was in this cute little nightie number while her and her friend talked, while sitting on her bed. Those beautiful tits I’d taken a bite into last night were probably swinging free underneath the silky fabric of her gown, and my hand started to pump a little faster as I envisioned what she’d look like right now. I bet she was sprawled out on her bed while Rachel told her stories, her pussy airing out in her room while it was covered by the silk of her pajamas.
“Oh, god. Bridget.”
I imagined her tits free from her nightgown while she sank to her knees. I saw my hand wrapped around those soft, beautiful tendrils of hair while those plump lips coated in that purple lipstick streaked its color across my throbbing cock. I’d bury myself so deep down her throat, her nose would touch my skin, and soon, I was thrusting into my own hand and bucking my ass off the couch.
Bridget. Yes, god. Your mouth is so warm. Fuck. Swallow me down. Let me see you gobble it all up.
I pumped my dick faster and faster as I felt my balls curl into my body, then hot streams of come erupted and splashed all over my shirt. My legs pulled taut, and my arms trembled in ecstasy. When my ass finally collapsed back to the bed, my come leaked off to the side and slid all the way down the couch cushion.
Shit, Bridget.
That would pervade every single inch of my thoughts while I worked with her. Now that I knew what she felt like and sounded like in her most vulnerable state, I’d never be able to look at her without thinking about burying my face between those legs. I’d never be able to hear her name without remembering how sweet her tongue felt raking across my lips.
And I’d never be able to sit next to her without wanting to slip my hands in between her legs.
I was in a lot of trouble, and I loved every second of it.
Chapter 9
Bridget
I really wished things had gone further than they did Saturday night. He was a sexy man with a protective streak that called to me, and had I not been so tired from the orgasm that crashed over my body from him, I knew it would’ve gone further. The way his cock grew at the sway of my hips had been intoxicating, like I had this power over this beautiful man who had the strength of ten bulls. He’d picked me up like I was nothing and had pinned me to the bathroom wall. Every part of me would’ve done whatever he asked of me in that very moment.
Thomas had come in that morning and made some sort of breakfast, and I had to hide my disappointment when I came down the stairs. I wanted to throw myself at him and have him take me right on the kitchen table. I wanted to spread my naked body out for him while he ate his fill of breakfast before he dove between my legs and ate his fill of me. It’d been a long time since I had been willing and wanting to hand myself over to a man like that, but he proved his expertise Saturday night.
Shivers of pleasurable memories raked up my spine as I came into the kitchen that morning.
“Morning,” he said.
“Cooking breakfast, I see. Leave anything for me?”
“Look in the microwave,” he said.
I opened it up, and a plate of breakfast was there, waiting for me. Eggs with cheese and a colorful fruit salad sat alongside toast that was still steaming from the toaster.
“I don’t have a toaster?” I asked.
“Good thing I didn’t make the breakfast here, then.”
“Did you get it from somewhere?” I asked. “Let me pay you back.”
“No worries. I had to grab myself something, and it wasn’t a big deal.”
For a man who didn’t want to cross any sexual boundaries, he had no issues throwing it in my face why I’d caved to him in the first place. Every time I turned around, he was doing something above and beyond his job, like making me coffee or paying for lunch. If he didn’t stop, I was going to try and push those boundaries again, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone involved.
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sp; I carried way too much baggage, anyway. I was an incredibly damaged person who would be a detriment to his daughter if things took off between us. He would figure out all the things that were wrong with me, and he’d toss me to the curb just to protect his daughter, and I wouldn’t even be able to be mad at it. I wouldn’t be able to blame him, yell at him, or call him a dick hole, because he’d be right.
I would put his daughter in danger and risk damaging her more than she already had been from what his ex did to him.
What his ex did to them both.
But he had been on my mind all weekend long. When I got that message from him, asking me how I was, I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. It took me a second to remember that checking on me during the weekends was how we negotiated his weekends off, and then it dawned on me that he really was working for me. But to my body, that didn’t matter. The moment he checked on me to make sure I was all right, I felt my nipples stand at attention.
Rachel called me out on it, telling me I was falling in love, or some shit, with my bodyguard and to be careful. I told her nothing like that was happening, that it was just a meaningless hook up that went really well, and the only issue was I was pissed it didn’t go any further. I gave her all the dirty details, like how thick his fingers were inside my pussy and how the callouses of his thumb felt heavenly against my clit. She squealed and clapped her hands, saying something like “it’s about time,” and I had no idea what she meant.
Until she told me how I’d been eyeing him the entire night.
“You were practically hovering over him,” she said. “Like a vulture or something.”
“I was not!”
“Your ass was buried so far into his dick, I thought he’d stuffed you with it, Bridge! Face it. You have the hots for your bodyguard.”
And she had been right. He’d plagued my dreams all last night, to the point where I had to get up in the middle of the night and rub one out in the bathroom. I had to slink down into a corner, with Rachel snoring in the other room, and bite down into my shirt just to keep from crying out his name. The orgasm I gave myself was nothing like the one he gave me in the bathroom stall at the club, and it was like a high I’d chase for months before he would finally fade from my system.
Maybe by then, he would be gone, and all of this could just go away.
“Anything on the agenda for today?” he asked. His voice ripped me from my trance, and I took a bite of my fruit. It was succulent and delicious, and the cantaloupe squirted from between my lips and dribbled down my chin. I scrambled for my napkin while I was giggling, but the heat that rose in Thomas’s eyes was unmistakable. He watched the sweet juice drip down my chin before I wiped it away, and I could only imagine how much his cock was trembling from the sight.
“I have to go shopping for a party I have on Saturday.”
“Which means you’ll need me for Saturday,” he said.
“If you can get it,” I said. “If not, I’m sure I’ll be all right for a day by myself.”
“Nope,” he said. “I’ll arrange it with my parents.”
“It’s wonderful that you have such supportive parents,” I said.
“I bet yours are, too,” he said.
“Any interview you’ve seen of me should tell you otherwise.”
I had been very candid with my audience about how I’d distanced myself from my parents. Many times, they tried to take advantage of my financial situation, and the last time they asked me for money, it came out as more of a demand. They tried to guilt trip me, telling me how hard it was to raise me and how they deserved a chunk of that money, and I hung up the phone on them and never looked back.
They tried calling every once in a while, but all I did was ignore their calls until they eventually ceased.
“Then, I’m sorry the interviews are actually correct,” he said.
“What did you think they were?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I thought maybe you were painting an image of yourself to garner the favor of a specific population.”
“That’s… actually not a completely false statement for some actresses,” I said.
“What time are we going shopping?” he asked.
“Most stores have a lull between one and four, so I figured we could go then. We’ll be less bombarded with people in the store who just wanna take pictures.”
“Sounds fair enough,” he said.
“And go ready to try on clothes. You’ll need a tux where we’re going. And before you say anything, I’m paying for it. Think of it as your uniform.”
“Normal people pay for their uniforms,” he said.
“Tough titties. I’m paying for your tux. Now, eat your breakfast.”
The day was pretty slow. He stayed downstairs, and I stayed upstairs. It was pretty obvious we were both trying to avoid each other, and I hated that. I enjoyed the playful relationship we had been cultivating, and I didn’t understand why it had to stop, just because he touched my pussy a couple nights ago.
But he told me he wanted all the flirting to stop, so I didn’t push my limits. I wasn’t going to fire him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t quit.
I came down the stairs around twelve-thirty and saw him standing at the door. His shoulders were rolled back, and his hands were clasped in front of his body, just like he had been the first day he showed up. A part of me ached that he felt he had to go back to that type of business lifestyle with me, but things had been made very clear, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“Ready?” I asked.
I got into the car before he slid in next to me, and the ride was silent. He stayed on his side of the seat, and I stayed on mine. My eyes got hooked on the scenery passing by. The entire world of L.A. seemed happy and jovial. People were walking about, swinging their bags by their sides, carrying on conversations with those they loved and enjoyed. The sun was shining, and I could smell the cotton candy as we passed by the stand. I felt an odd knot of emotion build within my throat before Bernie pulled us up beside my favorite store.
“We’re here,” Thomas said.
“I can see that. Come on. Time to get you measured for a tux.”
We walked inside, and the moment I entered, three different people rushed to my sides. They held out fabrics in different colors and textures, while someone was talking to me about jewelry and different shoes, but all I did was quiet them down and ask them for a tux specialist.
“My bodyguard needs to be fitted with a tux. Black, with a cummerbund, and one silk stripe running down the outside of each leg. His skin’s a little sun-kissed, so do a champagne shirt instead of a white one. It’ll really make him pop.”
“Any preference for the tie and cufflinks?” a man asked.
“Do I get a say in any of this?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Try on a few, and see what makes those blue eyes of his pop. Maybe he’ll find someone at the party he’s comfortable taking home afterward.”
I spat that last sentence a bit more than I needed to, and his eyes whipped over to mine. For a split second, I saw something akin to guilt pass along his face, but it was gone before I could pinpoint it. The man with the tape measurer was dragging him off, and I turned my attention back to the fabrics in front of me, just so I didn’t have to look at him.
I didn’t realize how angry I was at him for putting a stop to things until just now. He was going to look amazing in that suit, and another woman was going to get to take him home.
And that woman wouldn’t be me.
“Any particular color you’d like for your dress, Miss Meyers?” one of the designers asked.
“Something dark. Like crimson or black. Maybe a nice hunter green?”
“Oh, the hunter green would go wonderful with your hair and eyes. Give me a moment.”
I tried on dress after dress, with none of them really suiting what I wanted. I felt too constricted in things that were form-fitting, but the flowing fabrics hung on me like I was a clothes hanger. I tried on tw
enty-two different dresses before the last hunter green dress came in, and of course, it had a champagne-colored bow that wrapped around the waist.
“I know it’s lace, and I know you hate lace, but just try it. For me, hmm?”
I took the dress from the fitter and slipped into it. The moment I got it to my shoulders, I knew it was the one for me. The full-length gown had a sweetheart neckline that flaunted the cleavage I had, without overstating it, and the bow wrapped around my waist cinched it in a bit before the fabric flared slightly and swished across the ground. I felt like a princess who had finally found the dress she had been looking for, and tears rose to my eyes when I saw myself in it.
“You look marvelous,” the fitter said. “And that’s right off the rack. No hemming, no tailoring, no nothing. It was like it was made for you.”
“What do you think about pearls with this type of dress?” I asked.
“Hold on. I’ve got a set I know you’ll love.”
He left the room, and I was left with my thoughts. Part of me wanted to rush out and tell the tailor to switch the color of the shirt, but part of me wanted to match him Saturday evening. I didn’t want him to be upset or think that I’d intentionally matched him in any way, and then my brain finally kicked back into gear. Why the fuck did I care anyway? I was paying for this shit, and I could wear whatever the fuck I wanted. If he didn’t like the tux after the party, he could burn it for all I cared.