by Lyn Rosella
When he sank two fingers deep inside me, I moaned up at the ceiling and to the heavens. Yes. Yes! He pumped his digits once, twice, then pulled away. I whined at the loss, feeling so hot and bereft.
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging, honey.”
“I know, sir.” I did know it. I was just so damn horny, I couldn’t control the sounds I was making or the desperate way my body moved.
His weight on the mattress shifted. I internally rejoiced when I felt him lean over me and position his manhood against my waiting entrance. Remembering how big it had been in my mouth, I shivered.
I wanted to buck my hips; I wanted to wrap my legs around his thighs and urge him forward. But he was in charge - he’d sink himself inside me when he was ready, when he thought I could wait no longer. “Please, sir,” I breathed anyway, “Please fuck me.”
He grunted with pure masculine pleasure at the sound of my begging. “Say it again,” he demanded.
“Please fuck me, sir, please, I need to feel you inside me so badly.” My pussy clenched and twinged in agreement with my words.
“Good,” he said, stroking my cheek, “Very good.” Finally, finally, he pressed forward. I moaned as he slid inside, once slow, delicious inch at a time. God, he felt so good, I wanted to scream. I tilted my pelvis as he sank inside, angling to get him as deep as possible. I’d expected it to hurt more, but the pain of my stretching was minimal. My body was so hungry and so ready for him that he sank to the hilt with relative ease.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grated. “So hot and tight.”
I moaned his name as he built a slow, grinding rhythm. Every move sent fresh waves of arousal through my body, making me tremble and gasp. Each deep thrust, each grinding motion of his pubic bone against my clit drove me higher. My world was nothing but a blur of sensation, his hardness inside of me, his lips on my skin.
He brushed my hair aside and kissed me along my jaw, tilting my head for access to my neck. Then he began to move faster. He withdrew and teased me with a few shallow thrusts, just barely inside me, before slamming back home. My toes curled and my fists clenched - but I couldn’t wrap myself around him as my body longed to. The restraints held me in place.
And I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t see where he would touch next, or when he braced himself to move faster, or anything at all. I could only hear him, breath in the masculine scent of him, and feel. Every damn sensation, they were all so heightened when I couldn’t see.
He grasped my hips tight, lifting me partially off the bed as he fucked into me, moving fast and hard, grunting as he found his rhythm. He didn’t move back very much, so his rapid thrusts created a nonstop vibration through my body as he pounded me hard.
I had never been fucked like that, ever. I made sounds that I didn’t recognize as my own. The slaps of our bodies colliding were impossibly fast, and the big bed rocked beneath us as if caught in a thunderstorm.
And he was like a storm - he was an explosion of savage energy and I was the very ground that he ravished. I was going to come - and I had no control over it. I couldn’t grab at him, urge him faster, deeper. I couldn’t slow him down and hold it off. He was going to make me come, and I was just along for the ride. The fact of it turned me on even more, and almost violent spikes of arousal wracked my body.
It was the vibrator-like effect that send me tumbling over the edge, screaming out a sound that resembled his name. I came hard, clenching around his pumping cock, and yet he never slowed.
It was too intense, too much - I was so sensitive, and yet he kept thrusting, pushing me higher and higher once again. Was it a second orgasm? Or just the first, drawn-out in one long, endless whirlwind of sensations?
He slowed just enough to speak. “You come so hard for me, honey. So beautifully.” He kissed my forehead. “You submit perfectly.”
I glowed with his praise. “I just want to please you, sir,” I said.
“I want to feel you come again,” he replied. He rotated his hips in a tight circle. I could barely comprehend how good it felt. My eyes squeezed shut and my mouth fell open in a wordless sound of joy. “And again,” he growled, grinding into me and against me with more force. “I want you to never stop.” He had me on the edge again in seconds.
I cried out in protest when he suddenly withdrew. “On your hands and knees,” he said, unwrapping my wrists and ankles rapidly. I groaned with relief as I curled my limbs in and around him. “No,” he said, grabbing both of my hands and slamming them back to the mattress. He growled down at my face, his fierceness frightening to behold. “What did I say?”
“On my hands and knees, sir,” I breathed, “I’m sorry.”
“I was going to let you remain free, but if you can’t follow one simple order…” He rolled me onto my stomach and gathered both of my wrists in one big hand. He bound them together in one of the restraints that had held me earlier. Trapped again. At his mercy. I moaned and pressed my hips back at him, begging with my body.
He yanked me up onto my knees while pressing down on the back of my neck, holding me against the sheets. Face down, ass up, he positioned me as he wanted. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream,” he hissed against my neck.
Something primal came awake at his dirty words. “Please do it, sir, make me scream for you.” He penetrated me again with one swift movement, sinking to the hilt. The new position was different but just as intense. He reached around me to pluck at my nipples, so sensitive after the orgasms I’d just had. I pressed back against him and he chuckled.
Then he hammered into me with all the strength and fury he’d promised. I would be nothing but a puddle of a human before he was through with me. His powerful surges rocked my whole body, driving the air out of my lungs and the thoughts out of my brain. My entire existence shrank to a pinpoint - Vaughn, fucking me like his life depended on it. I loosened the blindfold with my shoulder and glanced back over my shoulder at him to drink in the sight - bulging muscles, the fine sheen of sweat, that dark, hungry look in his eyes. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed deeply with the effort of fucking me so hard and so fast for so long.
“Did I tell you that you could look at me?”
“No-”
Smack! He’d struck my ass with an open palm before I even saw him move. Yet he never slowed, still plunging away between my legs. Smack! I moaned and dropped my head back to the mattress. Holy shit. He was overwhelming my senses, shorting them out. I lost all sense of myself as he spanked my ass twice more - I was just his, all his.
I gripped the sheets tight and held on. “I’m sorry, sir!” I cried. I wouldn’t be able to sit the next day if he kept that up.
He soothed my stinging cheeks with one hand - his other snaked around my thigh and his thumb found my clit. I squealed and bucked as he circled the sensitive button. It felt so good that it almost hurt. It was almost too much. My back arched as I surged back against him, working with him to take us over the edge.
His cock swelled even harder and thicker inside of me, stretching me even wider, and I knew he was about to come. “Yes, please, sir, come with me,” I urged. My exhausted body tensed and tightened. His finger rubbed and swirled around my slippery clit, and I tumbled over the edge once more, blinded by the pure ecstasy of the most intense orgasm yet, clenching and spasming around his cock and grasping at the sheets.
His deep groans drove me impossibly higher, and I dropped forward onto the mattress as he thrust himself deep and held himself there, his fingers bruising my hips. I could feel his cock pulsing with his pleasure.
I felt high on it - high on him. I hoped that the feeling would never end.
“Shh,” he said, running a soothing hand down my back. “Good girl.” He pulled the blindfold off of me and flung it away. Then he unwrapped my wrists.
He rolled onto his side and pulled me along with him. My whole body was deliciously sore, as if I’d had a great workout, except I was so fulfilled and satisfied and just plain happy on top o
f it.
“How do you feel?” Vaughn asked. He clutched me to him, my back to his broad chest.
I thought about it for a moment. “Is ‘drunk on sex’ a feeling?” I asked.
“It is,” he said. He kissed my shoulder. “Was there anything you didn’t like?”
“Questions,” I teased.
“I’m serious.”
“No,” I said, smiling, “It was all pretty damn amazing.”
I rolled over to look at him, to look into his eyes for the first time since he’d blindfolded me. The wild fury I’d briefly witnessed was gone. Instead they held nothing but tenderness.
My breath caught and my throat tightened.
I felt something, a golden warmth deep in my chest, around my heart.
It wasn’t love yet. It couldn’t be… just because the sex was incredible didn’t mean I could be falling in love with him, could it?
But looking up into Vaughn's face, I could feel it somewhere off in the distance, getting closer, ever closer. We weren't there yet but we were definitely on that road. Just don't hurt me, I projected with my eyes. I couldn't take it.
His hand cupping my jaw so tight, tilting me, preparing me for another scorching kiss, somehow assured me that he wouldn't.
He was kissing me hard, pressing me down into the mattress. His cock pulsed and grew against my thigh, and my legs fell wide, ready to accept him inside again. But then a loud, indiscernible beeping tone ripped me out of my haze and woke me back up to reality.
Our phones rang in tandem. If it had been just one of ours I would have ignored it. But if we were both being buzzed then something was wrong.
Vaughn reached his phone first. “Yeah?” he asked, annoyance dripping from his voice. I grabbed mine and rolled away to answer it.
“Lexi, you’d better have a good fucking reason to be calling me right now.”
“Come to Pauline’s room,” she said. “It’s urgent.”
“It better be.” I hung up. Vaughn was off the phone, too, and wearing a frown. “Well?” I asked.
“Pauline wants to see me.”
My heart sank. They know. How do they know? But it could be something unrelated, couldn’t it? “You go ahead of me,” I said, grabbing for my pants. “I’ll keep them waiting a little bit.”
He nodded but he seemed doubtful. If they knew, our little charade of showing up separately would be laughable. Let them try laughing at me. See how that ends up.
He dressed quickly and left me pacing in the room. I wanted to make them wait, wanted to draw it out just to prove that I was in charge, this was my show. But impatience got the better of me and I rushed out the door less than five minutes behind Vaughn.
"What the hell is going on?" I demanded as I burst into Pauline's hotel room. Pauline was standing by the window - Lexi was seated on the edge of the bed, and Vaughn was leaning against the dresser.
"You're gonna want to sit down for this," Lexi said, gesturing at the chair near the desk.
I kept up my angry facade but inside I was shaking. There was no doubt they knew. Someone had found out that I was in Vaughn's room - but how?
Sure enough, Pauline pushed her tablet into my hands once I was seated. There it was - a photo of me in my ridiculous disguise, standing outside Vaughn's door. It was open and you could just about make out his face in the shadows.
That motherfucker at the candy machine. Fuck!
I scrolled down and read the headline, "Movie Plot in Real Life? Pop Diva Zenaida's Secret Bodyguard Affair."
I shoved the tablet back at Pauline and snarled, "Fucking Twitter!" I'd been in that damn room for under an hour and already the news was all over the internet.
"Well?" Lexi asked.
"Well what?"
"Is it true?" I should have kept my face straight and eyes on her. But I exchanged a glance with Vaughn. It was enough to sink me. "It's true?!" she shrieked, jumping from the bed. "Zenaida! How could you not tell me?"
I put my head in my hands. "The shrieking. Is is necessary?"
"Yes!" she and Pauline both shouted. Pauline went on, "Vaughn, we'll have a talk with you separately. You can go."
He'd been silent the whole time, but when he did finally open his mouth to speak, my own jaw dropped open. "They're going to dig up some dirt on me," he said. He didn't look at me, he refused to look at me. He kept his gaze studiously on Pauline. "You may want to consider firing me now if my company doesn't jump on it first."
I spluttered. "For fuck's sake, this is the entertainment industry, I'm not a politician! People would be disappointed if there wasn't any dirt!"
"He's right," Pauline barked at me. "Vision is going to let him go no matter what the three of us in this room do or say."
I felt like I'd been struck. This whole time I'd been worried about what the tabloids would say about me if we were found out, what the effect might be on my career. But now Vaughn was almost definitely going to lose his job. I felt sick.
"I'm so sorry," I said to him, too shocked to even tear up on his behalf.
He shrugged. "It was a gamble."
A gamble? Was that all? "Vaughn." My voice cracked.
But he turned and left without looking back.
I couldn't stop replaying it all over in my head. At first I was devastated. Everything we'd done, all the things he'd made me feel, and I was nothing but a gamble to him? This was nothing but a game? I'd never harbored any fantasies about making it a long term thing, getting married and having babies, that would have been downright ridiculous. But it was too real, too raw and intense to mean nothing at all.
But when the tabloids dug up his "dirt" the very next morning, it became apparent that there was a lot more going on with him.
"Bad Bodyguard: Zenaida's Beau Charged With Negligent Homicide." It was a sensationalist headline, of course. The case had happened eight years ago and the charges never stuck. He was never even indicted.
But he was right. This was dirt. People would jump on this news like rabid dogs.
And I'd had no idea. But of course, I'd never asked him. We'd never talked about much of anything.
I researched what I could about the case. Apparently he'd been a bouncer back then, but some heiress paid him to keep an extra eye on her teenage son at a concert. There were drugs, fights, and chaos, and the kid ended up dead.
My stomach churned as I read it. How awful it must have been for everybody involved! The mother accused Vaughn of standing by and doing nothing while her son took drugs, claimed that being a bodyguard for a teenager meant protecting them from themselves. Vaughn said he had no knowledge of any drugs being taken and that short of standing with the boy at the urinals, he'd done all he could to watch out for him.
I slammed my laptop shut. I could either keep reading every dirty detail or I could ask the source himself. The magazines and news articles wouldn't answer the real questions I had, which were "How did you deal with it?" and "Are you doing okay?"
We were flying back home that night without him. He'd already checked out and disappeared, so I had to cross my fingers and hope that his company would know where to find him. Or that they would at least give me his phone number. Maybe Lexi has it. I would deal with the girl's meltdown if it meant I could get in touch with Vaughn.
The atmosphere on our jet was chilly, to put it mildly. Pauline and Lexi especially avoided speaking to me in more than a few clipped words, or even looking at me for that matter. Why did they care so much, anyway? A little affair like this wouldn't hurt my career for long, and therefore wouldn't hurt theirs. I suppose it created a little extra work for them but they would have time while we were gearing up for the tour.
"Don't worry," Gavin said to me once we were in the air, "They'll all get over it."
"They'd better," I mumbled, glaring from behind my sunglasses. Or else Zenaida the Queen of the Pink Slip would have to make a reappearance. I hadn't fired anyone in almost two months and their disapproving frowns were making my trigger finger itch.
Maybe it was time to remind them of who I was. I didn't shrink away from anything. And now that I'd faced Camden, I could honestly say that. I didn't shrink away from anything.
"I want you to get me Vaughn's phone number and address," I said to Lexi, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Lexi looked like a deer caught in headlights. But Pauline spoke up for her. "Do you really think that's a good idea? You did read the papers this morning, right?"
I stared her down. Maybe she was my long-time manager and even on occasion a friend, but she was not coming between me and what I wanted. I hadn't worked as hard as I'd worked so someone could tell me that it wasn't a good idea to see someone that I wanted to see.