"I'm too sensitive," I tell him, whimpering.
"Good," he growls. "Think about that the next time you decide to wear a see-through dress to a club. Do it again and I'll turn you over my knee and spank your ass until you're sore. After that, I'll tie you to the bed and make you come until you can't come anymore."
I swallow a laugh because the prospect of that is hilarious and ridiculous. "A million orgasms as torture?" It's not so funny, I realize immediately, not with him between my legs right now tormenting me the way he just did. The sensations are too intense; a million orgasms would be torture.
"Try me," he growls, and he slaps my pussy lightly with his hand, sending a little shock of pain through me that makes me want more.
"I do want to try you," I tell him, giving his cock a meaningful glance. "I want to taste you."
I want to suck his cock with my wrists and ankles attached to the bed, and that desire must be written all over my face.
"You want me to take your mouth the way I did in the stable," he says slowly. "But right now like this, I'd be completely in control of you. You'd be powerless to stop me from doing whatever I wanted, from fucking your mouth exactly how I want to. You understand that."
I nod, desire rushing through me. I didn't know how much I wanted exactly this before. I couldn't have known how much I'd want it.
He lets out a low moan, moving to straddle me, positioning himself so his cock is near my lips but not quite touching. Pre-cum glistens on his thick head, beading at the tip. "Do you trust me?" he asks.
I nod, even as my heart stops beating. He's right that having my hands bound together in the stable was a whole different experience from being completely immobilized, the way I am right now.
Right now, I'm entirely his to use.
And I want him to use me for his pleasure.
I open my mouth, arching my back so I can just barely touch the tip of my tongue to his cock where pre-cum leaks from the tip. He tastes so familiar already, and the taste causes heat to surge between my legs, a nearly automatic response apparently already developing.
"Greedy little girl," he chides, but he gives me what I want. His cock slides between my lips, just a little bit at first as he tests me, but it's not long before I'm relaxing for him more and more. His hands go to my hair, threading it between his fingers, pulling and gripping me tightly as he thrusts into my mouth. At first, he takes my mouth gently, carefully, and slowly, taking his time and looking down at me, his eyes searching mine for any hint of discomfort. "Greedy for my dick, aren't you? You like me fucking your mouth like this, don't you?"
I can't do anything except moan my response, my mouth filled with him as he slides in and out. The only sounds in the room are our moans and the wetness created by his cum and my mouth.
If my hands weren't bound, if I could reach to touch him, I'd wrap my hand around his shaft and stroke the base of his cock. I would slide my fingers between my legs to touch myself, because the longer he's in my mouth the more the void between my legs becomes unbearable.
"I want to fill this greedy little mouth up with my cum, Alexandra," he groans as he fucks my mouth deeper. I force my throat to relax, to take him in as deeply as he gives it to me, and I'm strangely pleased when he begins to lose control, fucking my mouth faster as he grasps my hair tightly.
The thought of him exploding into my mouth only makes me want him more, and I moan my desire for him.
But he stops suddenly with a sharp gasp. "I want your pussy more," he declares, pulling his cock from my mouth and dismounting me. I groan my disappointment as he disappears for a moment, then returns, rolling a condom onto his length. "Are you ready for me?"
I'm aching for you.
"I'm so wet," I reply softly.
He tests me, straddling me as his fingers go between my legs. "You're so fucking wet for me all the time," he murmurs, teasing my entrance with his cock. "But right now you're soaked for this because of the way you're lying here, spread and tied up for me."
"Yes," I breathe, arching my hips as he presses against me with the head of his large cock, but he only gives in an inch, pushing inside me just barely in order to torture me. I can't wrap my legs around his waist and pull him into me. I can't slide my hands around his neck and bring him down to me.
I'm wholly powerless.
"Tell me how much you want my cock inside you, Alexandra," he demands. "Say it."
"I want …" I start, my voice drifting off.
I want.
Those are the only words I have right now.
"Beg me for it."
"Please," I say, my voice a whimper. "I want you to fuck me like this, tied up and waiting for you."
"Such a good, polite little girl. I love hearing you say please." Then plunges his cock deep inside me. I inhale sharply at the sensation, made even more acute by the way my legs are spread, by how I'm pinned to the mattress. His large cock fills me all the way up, his balls slapping against me as he begins to fuck me, slowly at first before he gains momentum. "I could keep you like this, you know. I could tie you up and keep you at my mercy, my little fuck doll to do whatever I like with."
My little fuck doll.
His words should be totally repulsive. They shouldn't make me hotter. They shouldn't send heat surging through every inch of my body. The thought of him tying me up and using me solely for his pleasure shouldn't make my pussy swell the way it does around his cock.
He feels my response, and it turns him on. He thrusts harder and deeper inside me, and I'm moaning louder and louder as he fucks me into oblivion. "You love the idea of being my little fuck doll," he says, his voice thick. "You love the idea of me fucking you whenever I want and however I want."
His hand goes to my jaw, holding my face as he covers my mouth with his. When he pulls away to take a breath, I'm driven completely to the edge and half-crazy with desire. "Yours," I gasp. "Your little fuck doll."
As soon as I speak the filthy words, I come. My orgasm is insane and happens completely without warning, overtaking me. I cry out a string of obscenities and his name over and over. My orgasm doesn't slow him down, though. He pumps into me harder, and as my muscles squeeze his cock, he finally comes with a loud groan.
We stay there like that, both of our chests heaving as we try to catch our breath for a moment. Then he reaches to untie my wrists, still deep inside me. When he pulls off the silk ties, his thumbs go to the red marks on my wrists.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his brow furrowed, concern evident on his face.
Am I okay?
I'm totally exhausted, completely spent after my body has been racked with multiple orgasms. Am I okay?
I giggle and nod. "I. Am. Fucking. Amazing."
He bursts out laughing, a whole-hearted warm sound that I haven't heard from him before. "You are fucking amazing, Alexandra," he agrees. Then he looks at me with such tenderness that I have to look away.
Max clear his throat, pulling out of me and disappearing to the bathroom, only to reappear a moment later with a warm washcloth. Meanwhile, I haven't moved an inch, not even to untie my ankles; that's how languid I feel right now.
It's an odd feeling, not wanting to move. It's totally unfamiliar.
"You look pleased with yourself," he notes as he releases my ankles from their restraints. "What's going through that head? Did you steal my wallet or something?"
"Did I steal your wallet?" I ask, barely able to suppress another burst of giggles. Oh my God, why am I giggling? Is this what good sex does to your brain? Am I suddenly going to become an airheaded bimbo? Or, worse, even: optimistic? "You do see that my ankles were still attached to the bed up until this very moment, don't you?"
"You look like you're up to something," he says, reaching between my legs with the warm cloth and cleaning me gently.
"You do realize I'm a princess," I note. "You seem to think my skills all run in the direction of criminal enterprises."
He rolls onto his side beside me on the bed, his elbow p
ropping up his head. "You're the knife thrower," he points out. "Frankly, I expect you to be scamming casinos out of money, counting cards or something." When I hesitate for a split second, his eyes go wide. "Wait a second. Can you count cards?"
"What?! No, of course not," I protest lamely. But I can't stop laughing as he rolls on top of me and pins my wrists above my head, trapping my body underneath his.
"You're lying," he accuses me. "The card counting thing was a joke, a total shot in the dark. I didn't think you actually could count cards. But you can, can't you? I can see it on your face!"
"A princess never reveals her secrets," I tell him.
"I have ways of torturing information from my sources," he threatens, grinning as he crooks his finger and goes straight to the side of my abdomen.
I shriek as he finds the most ticklish spot before letting out a peal of hysterical giggling, punctuated by a snort. "Stop, stop, stop! You're going to make me pee!"
He stops. "Did you just snort?"
"I heard no snort," I lie, but I can't seem to stop laughing.
"You're right. It was more like an oink, I think." He makes a little pig sound.
"It was not an oink!"
"I can't believe you can count cards," he says, shaking his head and laughing. "I mean, I can, really, because it's so you. Tell me: how many Russian mobsters have you fleeced?"
I pretend to count. "More than five, less than a hundred?"
"Does anyone know that you're a secret little math genius?"
"It's not that hard," I protest. "I got bored and taught myself. I could teach you."
"Remind me to kidnap you and take you to Vegas."
"I've never been to Vegas," I tell him. "Albie went, though. That's where he met Belle, I guess."
"I haven't been either," he says.
"Then we should go sometime," I declare. The words just come right out of my mouth from nowhere. As soon as I say it, I feel my face flush warm.
What the hell am I saying? I don't do future plans and tomorrows. Of course, I also don't do this kind of thing, this lying around and talking thing.
But Max just laughs. "Vegas it is," he says. He rolls onto his back and pulls me to his chest like it's the most natural thing in the world.
So I wind up lying here like it's the most normal thing ever. I lie here with my fingers lazily wandering over his chest, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I don't have the impulse to run away.
I don't even want to run when we start talking, or when he asks me a million more questions about myself. I don't want to run when he tells me all about his life in Kentucky, about the small town where his parents still live that has one stoplight and just got a Wal-Mart, which was apparently the biggest thing to happen in the town in years. I don't want to run as he tells me about all of his childhood and high school shenanigans, growing up in a small town – like when he and his friends rearranged all of the road signs in town, or how he learned to brew gin in an actual bathtub.
I listen and laugh and I want to know more. I want to know everything about him.
And I don't want to run at all.
33
Max
This entire thing is fucking crazy.
I'm lying here with Princess Alexandra in my arms, and she's lightly snoring as she snuggles up against me. I don't know what the hell I'm doing lying in the bed of a princess after spending the entire night talking and fucking … and talking some more.
Every part of me is screaming that this is the worst idea in the entire world. I'm her bodyguard, and the bodyguard who's been with her the longest now. That's my first duty, even if I haven't been her bodyguard for years.
I always do my duty. It's who I am and who I've always been, especially as a Marine. Even though I might not be active duty anymore, I'll always be a Marine.
One thing I've never done is something that might compromise doing my duty.
Yet that's exactly what I'm doing right now, lying with her here. It's exactly what I have done by touching her.
Fucking her.
What we're doing puts her at risk. More than anything else, my duty is to keep her safe, and I'm too entangled with her now to keep her safe.
My judgment is compromised, and I'm too close.
Logically, I know that. I also know that if her father found out I was sleeping with her, he'd probably deport me – at the very least.
Yet I don't want to be anywhere except in her bed.
I don't get up and leave, not until the light streaming through the crevices of the almost-closed shutters on the windows changes from a bluish to a warm yellow glow. Only then do I slip out of the bed and out of her room, disappearing back to my bunkroom to shower and check in and pretend like this was just a regular night where the princess went out to party and returned to the palace – and definitely not a night like the one it was.
When I come back a couple of hours later, she pulls herself up in bed and pushes her hair away from her ace. "You brought coffee. And you showered. Do you ever sleep?"
"Occasionally." I set a tray beside her bed and pour coffee into the delicate royal china cup. "How did you sleep?"
She sighs as she takes the cup from me. "Well, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but there was an intruder in my bedroom last night."
"An intruder, huh?"
She sips her coffee. "He tied me to the bed, Max," she says, looking at me with wide eyes. "And he did things to me. Dirty things."
My cock stirs at the memory of exactly what I did to her last night. "That bastard," I declare. "I'll need to make a detailed report." I sit down on the bed beside her and slide my hand up her thigh, eliciting a squeal from her.
"Hot coffee!" she shrieks. "It's going to spill!"
I take the cup out of her hand and set it on the table. "I'll need to have you walk me through the events of last night," I say, my tone mock-serious.
"Will this require a reenactment?" she asks playfully.
"It might. I haven't decided yet. Tell me: did he touch you here?" I ask, my hand going between her legs.
"Hmm. I think I recall something like that happening," she says softly. "It's all a blur, really."
"Well, then, I should probably refresh your memory," I tell her. She's slick and wet and immediately ready for me. I thrust inside her with my fingers and it's a matter of seconds before she's clenching them, her muscles squeezing me so tightly I think she's going to come any moment … and she does, surprising both of with a loud cry. When she finishes, she looks up at me with her cheeks flushed pink, her hand going to her face to cover it in embarrassment. "Um, that was fast."
"Don't be embarrassed. I'm going to feel smug as hell about that," I tell her. When I pull my fingers from her and taste her sweetness, my cock presses hard against my pants, begging for release.
"Are you going to take off those clothes and get back in bed with me?" she asks, her voice seductive.
"Not now." I try to ignore my hardness and congratulate myself on exercising some control around her. It requires superhuman willpower, especially with the way she's looking at me right now. "You have to get back to the summer house. You're supposed to help out with planning some kind of charity thing."
Alexandra sighs. "Planning a charity thing?" she asks. "Is that coming from Sofia?"
"That's coming from your father. The helicopter is waiting for us."
She lets out a long sigh. "You and the rules," she says.
I'm about to remind her of just how many damn rules I've already broken here and just how much I've breached every standard of propriety, but then she rolls over onto her stomach, her bare ass and legs splayed out on the bed as she reaches for the coffee again.
I can't help but let out a low rumble at the sight. "The plans I have for that ass…"
I don't even realize I've spoken the words aloud until she stands up, the coffee cup in her hands, and walks over to me. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do, Bodyguard."
"Is that a
challenge?"
"Maybe."
"I told you I'm going to claim every part of you, princess. It wasn't an idle threat."
"I do hope not," she says, her voice light. "I'd be ever so disappointed if it were."
I curse under my breath. This girl will be the death of me. I run my hand over her perfect bare ass cheek as she looks at me mischievously and takes another sip of her coffee. "Go put on a skirt," I tell her, my voice terse. "A skirt and no panties."
Her eyebrows go up. "Haven't you learned that you can't dictate what I wear?" she asks. "Did my see-through dress teach you nothing?"
I look down at the dress crumpled on the floor. "Did it teach you nothing?" I counter.
She grins. "It taught me I should definitely wear whatever the hell I want."
"Wear a dress or a skirt," I tell her firmly. "Something appropriate. Something with actual fabric, nothing see-through, and nothing that shows your ass cheeks or your tits to anyone else. From now on, those are mine and only mine to see."
She laughs and takes another sip of her coffee. "Oh really. You think so, Max?"
"I know so, sweetheart," I tell her, turning toward the door. "The other bodyguards are waiting. You have fifteen minutes. Remember: appropriate and demure."
"Demure?!" I hear her ask from behind me. I think she might be choking on her coffee.
I grin, stifling the laugh I feel building in my chest. "That's right. But no panties underneath. In fact, you should never wear panties again, now that I think about it."
When I turn around, she's looking at me with her hand on her hip, her other one holding her coffee, amusement on her face. "Let me get this straight. I should wear a demure dress with no panties."
"That's my new rule," I declare, deciding that at just this very moment. "I'm going to need access to your pussy any time I choose."
"Oh, you are, are you?" she asks. "I let you tie me up one time and the power's already gone to your head. Now you want me ready and waiting all the time?"
I grin. "I don't want you ready and waiting, sweetheart – I know you'll be ready and waiting. That's especially true now that I saw that little display a minute ago – or have you already forgotten that it took you a grand total of ten seconds to come once I slid my fingers inside you?"
Her Bodyguard (Raunchy Royals Book 2) Page 22