Her Irresistible Guardian

by Lisa Torquay

  Ms Scott smiled relieved and bid him good-bye.

  But Mark’s anger only grew, to blinding level. He was feeling like a fool. The last to know about the decisions in his own company. Needing airing, he freed himself of his tie and suit-coat in broken movements and threw them irritably on the sofa. Brusquely, he took his car keys, laptop and walked in large annoyed strides to the car park. She’d see where her insubordination would lead her to. He drove above speed limit and didn’t give a damn if he got caught. And he didn’t give a damn that sexual frustration drove him.

  As a rocket he entered home and flew up the stairs, two steps at a time, kicking his shoes away in the process. Amy’s bedroom door was ajar and a dim reading light shone beside her armchair.

  He pulled the door full-palm abruptly, without caring to knock. “What the hell...” He begun to shout.

  She startled and jumped from the armchair letting her blanket and book fall on the carpet. Mark froze, his voice stuck by the view of her. She was dressing a short silk pale pink night-gown held by almost non-existent shoulder-straps. It barely reached her mid-thighs. Mark swallowed a dry lump.

  Amy looked at him and saw his angered expression. She didn’t need to ask the reason: it must have something to do with the day-off thing. Now he was looking at her, legs apart, hands on his waist, the perfect dominant male. Then the anger gave way to something else: that panther-like angled look that tore her guts apart. They glared mesmerized at one another for a long moment. His fierce eyes induced her female instincts to the extreme. Her instincts commanded her shamelessly, for this was her mate.

  And she moved. Hypnotized by the demand of his dominant male stare. Slowly, eyeing him in the eyes, she backed. One step at a time. Until she felt the bed against her calves. Never leaving his enchanted stare, she sat. Slowly. His mouth fell open. Still slowly, she lay down, her arms above her head in a bold offer. Her silky cinnamon curls spread on the pillow. The translucent eyes of hers hazy with invitation. Their eyes still locked together. He never blinked.

  His rational mind shut down and his body reacted instantly to her. He footed the door closed and neared the bed. He stared intensely at her, inch by inch, hypnotized. Mark lay over her as she nested his hips between her flexed legs. His both arms embraced her under her back, tightly.

  Amy received the weight of him as relief. Her clear thought had bugged the moment he entered her room. Total system failure, not to be rebooted so soon. His thin sensuous lips came down on hers in a multitude of kisses. He licked her lips; he sucked her upper-lip; he small-bit her lower-lip; all in rapid succession causing waves of sensation to clash in her body. Her arms and legs circled him. And finally he kissed her as she wanted. He dipped his tongue in her mouth, demanding all, taking everything. She gave what he wanted and more. Their tongues entwined, chasing each other eagerly. Each fooling of his tongue put more fuel to her fire. It was burning her in every sensitive place.

  When he lifted his head, they were both heaving in ragged breath. His mouth followed down her neck awaking her skin in its wake. But he wanted more. “Amy.” Her skin prickled in every inch he touched.

  She tried to unbutton his shirt. She managed it to the middle with fumbling fingers. She made to distance from him to complete the task.

  He embraced her tighter. “No!” He murmured in his deep desirous voice. “Don’t put a single inch between us!” He nibbled her shoulder. “I can’t stand it.” He plunged in her mouth again, even more hungrily. She let him, opening hers wider to allow him full access. She witnessed herself melding to him, her tongue involving his, responding to his.

  Her fingers left his shirt and immersed in his silky hair to keep his mouth kissing. They kissed lengthy, until they could not keep from breathing anymore and had to part lips, panting. One of his hands came to her full breast, caressing all of it. But he wanted his palm on its smooth skin. Without hesitating, he tore the delicate night-gown and almost went mad. A soft murmur of surprise and excitement left her lips. She wore no panties: All her glorious beauty at the mercy of his admiration. Dear god! This woman was driving him to the edge! He held the base of her breast and tasted it with his mouth. She groaned, arching her body for more, her head lolled. Little electrical bolts originated there and travelled through her body right to the centre of her.

  As she arched her body, she felt his considerable member stone hard. She wanted it. All of it. Her fantasies imagined him inside her. Oh, dear! She was getting desperate for him. Her hands roamed on his muscled body, getting the most they could from its half-dressed state. Her feelings went far beyond the physical sphere. As he drove her to maddening need, her mind, her heart, her essence were absorbed, taken over.

  Her reaction fuelled him, he went on worshipping her breast, nibbling the pebbled nipple. It was not enough. He wanted more. He wanted all. He opened his mouth wide and sucked as much of that tempting mound in, wildly. It provoked such an intense reaction in her that she writhed under him. Her fingers drove down to search his trousers waistband. With difficulty, she undid it and pulled it down, revealing his full manhood. It was his turn to groan then.

  “Amy.”

  One of his arms never stopped embracing her possessively. The other wandered over her delectable body, which he appreciated in every detail with his narrowed calid eyes. His hand found her vital bud. She felt him stroking it tearing her apart with pleasure. And his fingers swam on it to the point of despair. Her despair.

  They were both on the extremes of passion. Oblivious to reality. The fresh autumn night outside never mattered. The dim lamp cast a suave light on their tightly entangled bodies, as they moved, seeking one another.

  His fingers tormented her and she could not wait any longer. She was on the verge of an explosion. She undulated under him, arched more for him and gasped pleadingly.

  “Are you protected?” He asked breathlessly in a murmur.

  “Yes.” Was the only possible breathed out sound for her. She had to take birth-control pills for health reasons.

  The free arm of his sneaked under her waist again, holding her close, the closest possible. He positioned himself between her legs and entered her in one deep thrust. He filled her up and it felt like salvation. She sighed lengthy in contentment. But it was brief and her body protested for more. He moved in and out of her in sensuous long thrusts, intensifying her hunger. He held her more firmly, making her feel safe, warm, wanted.

  “Amy.”

  How could she have thought he was not affectionate? He was probably the warmest man on this planet. He continued moving arousing ever more intense waves which tightened her womb.

  Mark was in a haze of heated passion. His mind clouded, his heart swelled with a kind of sunny warm feeling. He melted in her, melded, moulded. It was as if his whole being was funnelling into her in a potent joining.

  He was losing control. Quickly. His urgency drove him out of himself. His mouth endeavoured hers in a savage kiss and when she broke it for air, his mouth descended to her neck, sucking it in total abandon. It got her hotter, all his caresses multiplying the sensations brought by his thrusts. She couldn’t hold it anymore, she exploded in a red-hot orgasm that reaped the whole of her, throwing her in a black pool of pleasure.

  Now he let himself go crazy in her. Thrusting among grunts. Deeper. Deeper. Until he spent the life of him in her in a long groan. He fell on her in total release. He kept there, embracing her in complete rapture for a long moment.

  Mark pulled the duvet which was placed on the brass bed-foot board. He finished undressing himself. Spreading the duvet over them, he lay behind her, holding her close, his face involved in her cinnamon fragrant hair. He put off the light. They fell asleep relaxed and happy.

  Amy was warm and cosy in her hazy sleep. There was a muscled calid body enfolding hers in its arms. There were lips kissing her behind her ear. And it felt good. Too good. Arousing, in fact. There was a hard...oh...hard member pressing on her back. Solid biceps turned her to the god who had pleasured
her so shamelessly. She awoke to find Mark’s feline eyes on her in the penumbra of her girlie bedroom. On her queen-size brass-boarded bed. Her hands itched to caress his magnificent body. She indulged in running her privileged hand on his trained biceps, his tank-shaped chest, his six-packed belly and their silky hair. Her fingers dared down, to the huge extension of his total erection.

  And immediately he was over her, embracing her with both arms, engulfing her in double as much enjoyment as before. They had it again: complete abandonment, mindless surrender, maddening orgasm.

  Mark opened his eyes to the faint early morning light and looked at Amy in his arms, under the duvet. She meant paradise. Exactly as he knew she would. Their lovemaking was so fulfilling that he wanted nothing more than lie there forever, enfolding her. He grinned self-mockingly. Wasn’t it so timely to have the day off today? He wanted to spend it making her go crazy in his arms. All the twenty-four hours! His body reacted at the thought. He moved his hand and cupped her full tempting breast. He rolled the already hardened nipple between his thumb and his fore-finger. She groaned her sleep fading. He rubbed his erection on her buttocks and she awoke to have him. They made love again, steaming.

  It was mid-morning when Amy opened her eyes to full morning light. She still felt Mark’s arms around her. His stubble mouth was caressing her shoulder idly. She turned to him. Their eyes met. She felt no embarrassment. What they had shared seemed only natural. But this deep molten desire coursing through them was a complete novelty for her. Therefore there was no false modesty as she met his intense stare. He appeared relaxed, released. Content.

  “Good morning.” He wished in a low deep tone. But his hand was wandering distractedly over her thigh, hip, waist in such a slow, inviting caress.

  “Good morning.” She revelled in the warmness of him. Her hand took the opportunity to feel the muscles of his chest and the silky hair that covered it. It looked like they were heading for another session.

  “Bath and breakfast?” He suggested, frustrating her expectations; and his own as it went. He was beginning to fear he could not keep his hands off her.

  In common accord, they headed to her very feminine bathroom. He rolled the large bathtub taps. Soon they were able to immerse in the tepid water. He sat down and accommodated her in between his long powerful legs. He took her flower scented shower soap and commenced to spread it over her lush body. She sat back on him and gave herself to his hands, enjoying every second. His hands didn’t miss a single inch of her. Her head fell back, her lashes closed in delight.

  When he was finished, she took the soap from his hand and turned to him. He eyed her with his intense attention. She started with his thick neck, gliding to his strong shoulders, to his hard arms and went back to his throat, his skin so smooth over his taut muscles. Her hands descended to his tank-like chest, feeling the whole of it, she explored lower, his six-packed belly and didn’t stop. Her hands found his hard-as-a-rock member, proudly displayed. She caressed each inch of it. He closed his eyes and sighed as his head fell down. She continued her diligent task, until he could take it no more.

  He brought her on to him, laced her waist with his arms and lowered her, filling her, pleasing her. He helped her move, holding her tight. The water splashing around. His mouth circled her breast, throwing more fuel to her already decontrolled fire. Her head fell back as his other hand covered her second breast. And she was lost to reality. They moved to the point she exploded with a multi-prismatic pleasure. Then it was his turn to find paradise in her once more.

  Amy had told Mrs Smith that it would be a day off at the company. So she thought it only a little strange when both Amy and Mark showed up same time and wet hairs. And they were behaving a trifle different as well, but she had to go about her work and couldn’t think much of it.

  That evening, after Mrs. Smith had left, Mark sat on the sofa in the sitting room and pulled Amy to sit across his lap. Her head rested on his broad chest. They both dressed hobbies.

  They had been discreet the whole day in respect to Mrs Smith. Each one went about their own things. Mark had been training and in his study. Amy had been reading and helping around.

  Amy circled her arm around his thick neck and felt his hand wander from her thigh, up to her hip, her narrow waist and her shoulder. It was relaxing as a massage.

  “This was a nice day off, I must admit.” Mark said self-mockingly.

  “Wasn’t it?” She wouldn’t point a reproachable finger at him.

  “I hadn’t had time to check the Intranet or read the latest e-mails. So it was an utter surprise when Ms Scott wished me a nice weekend.” His other hand caressed her cinnamon silky curls.

  How could he explain to her that, the moment he heard Ms Scott, he dreaded a whole day at home with her, without being able to touch her? How could he tell her how bitterly frustrated he was when they came back from Mallorca, to the point of having those wicked dreams all over again in the night?

  “I just thought the staff needed it. I figured out you’d approve of that, but I should have confirmed anyway.”

  “It’s alright. You deserve a promotion, to tell the truth.” He unbound her hobby and found out that she was dressing another silky short night-gown, this one in a colourful water-coloured pattern.

  “It was not all my idea, you know. I heard to suggestions.”

  “Whose suggestions?” Now he caressed her bare skin: smooth thigh, her bare hip. Holly Heaven! She wore no underwear! His hand slid to her narrow waist; and the gown slid up as his hand reached her full tempting breast.

  She sighed. “Travis at first.” She felt his fingers close around her hardened nipple and moaned. He rolled it mercilessly.

  “I see.” He tried to ignore the cold claws of jealousy around his heart. He took her hand, instead, and placed it on the extreme volume below his waist. She caressed it.

  He lifted her gown to her chest and caught her nipple in his mouth. He suckled on it to the point of her unbearable pleasure. He made her lie on the sofa and knelt on the floor. His fingers dived in her middle and his sinful mouth played with her breasts.

  Those multiple sensations welled all in her womb and she arched, widened her legs to take agonizingly more.

  “Mark!”

  It was all he needed to cover her body with his, to fill her up with his arousal. They got rid of their clothes. He embraced her tightly with both arms and invaded her mouth the same way he invaded her body: desperately. They moved until the unendurable pleasure threw them into oblivion. After a while, he carried her to his very masculine bedroom, where she slept wrapped firmly in his arms. Or didn’t sleep at all.

  Chapter VII

  It was a busy week. Mark thought about having MBS’ own R&D department. Until now they had been buying technology from third parties. But with the company growing exponentially, they would need to build up their technology internally. Naturally, the HR department would be intensely involved in the process. But Mark and Amy were disagreeing in the way the new department should be structured.

  Mark was in favour to hire one senior professional and only trainees, who could be trained in the company culture and follow those guidelines to develop new technology.

  Amy didn’t agree with this. In her conception, a new department should have fully experienced professionals at first.

  The overcharged sexual tension that sparkled between them twenty-four/seven wasn’t helping in any way. It seemed the calid deeply sensual nights they shared weren’t enough to keep it under control. Furthermore, Mark was amazed with her professionality. He wanted her all to himself, but she insisted in keeping her independence and keeping her life as before. She would depart for work at the same hours, leaving him alone in bed and at breakfast. She’d go home without him, making him come rushing to her bed at night in a shameful state of hunger. She acted just as an ordinary employee, following her working hours to a T. No more, no less.

  Mark knew he had to tell her about her father. It’d had to be soon. And
it’d change the whole situation. But something kept him from doing so.

  Now Mark and Amy stood around the table of a meeting room. The RH department had contacted a head-hunter to find the R&D leader for the company. They were waiting for the appointed professional to start the meeting.

  Mark looked at Amy, as if he hadn’t seen her for days, instead of having slept by her warm side all night. She dressed a white silk chemise and an elegant skirt. His eyes wandered over her whole body appreciatively. The memories of the past nights assaulted him, tightening his groins. He expected that having her would moderate the fire that rushed in his blood for her, but she made it only hotter. The more he had her, the more he wanted her.

  Amy felt Mark’s indolent stare on her and her body stirred for him. The calid pleasures he presented her with every night was so overwhelming she kept counting the minutes for him to be by her side again every night. She dared lift her eyes to him and their stares clashed in sparkles. He dressed a black suit with a snowy shirt and dark green tie. The power of his tall muscled body barely concealed.

  Amy saw a movement at the door and a tall olive skinned man in his thirties stood at the threshold. Juan Torres, from Madrid, entered the room. His qualifications were outstanding and Amy had no doubts that he was the right man for the job.

  “Good Morning.” She stood up. “You must be Mr Torres.” Amy extended her arm to shake his hand. “I am Ms Amy Holt.” But he was not as tall and manly as Mark.

  Mr Torres looked her in the eye, took her hand and, instead of shaking it, he bent and kissed it gallantly. “Nice to meet you Ms Holt. Just call me Juan.”

  Mark glared furiously at that project of a Latin lover and didn’t have a very good first impression of him. His flirtatious attitude towards Amy was disgusting.

  “Alright, Juan.” She smiled politely. “This is Mark Benton, our president.”