Page 12 of The Brat and the Bodyguard

I glare right back at her.

“Don’t make me come over there and do it for you,” I rasp, my fingers curling in on themselves with tension. “You’re not going to like it.”

Ainsley merely smiles sweetly before reaching for a bottle of shampoo and pouring a dollop into her hand. She applies it to her red curls as I watch, mesmerized.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Iwouldlike it,” she says in a teasing tone. “I regularly see a masseuse, and Evelyn is worth every penny she charges. Same with my manicurist, and same with my facialist. It’s nice to be waited on.”

“I’m not a facialist, nor a masseuse, nor a manicure whatever-ist,” I growl, my eyes glued to her ivory curves as she massages suds through her red curls. They’re wet now, so they’re almost black, but the contrast only highlights how silky smooth and pale her skin is.

“I’m not saying you have to be a masseuse, but it’d be nice to feel someone else’s hands on my scalp,” Ainsley teases. “I have so much hair, and it’s so long that I could use the help,” she adds. “I really mean it, Karl. Come help me wash my hair.”

Jesus Christ! What the fuck is going on? One second, I had a hellcat on my hands, fighting me tooth and nail. But now I have an alluring siren in her place, beckoning to me with a sweet smile.

I stare, my heart beating so loud that Ainsley must be able to hear it too. My blood pressure is sky-high, and my cock’s stiff as it spurts another load of pre-come onto my sweatpants. Ainsley sees, and giggles again, her fingers still massaging her scalp.

“Come here, Karl,” she hums in a melodic voice. “I need you.”

I can’t resist anymore. Like a man in a trance, I rise to a towering height and begin to advance on the nubile young vixen in the tub.

7

Ainsley

Oh my god, is this really happening? Am I a siren, calling to Karl as I wash my hair? Of course, I don’t need his help exactly. Yes, my tresses are long but they’re manageable, and I’m able to shampoo them myself.

But I want this man because he’s so handsome and powerful, and I love seeing how he’s been reduced to mush by my curvy body and teasing ways. Okay, Karl isn’t mush. The opposite. This man is hard and massive, and a small gasp escapes my lips as he approaches because his cock is leaking pre-come. It stands straight up now, flat against his abdomen, the tip pressing against his stomach. It glistens at the top, and as I watch, a bead of pearly cum forms before sliding down to coat his length.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, my heart rate accelerating as moisture pools between my legs.

His expression grows dark as his gaze holds mine.

“You’ll be praying for more than salvation by the time I’m through with you, Ainsley,” he rasps, taking a seat by the massive tub. Then, those big hands are on my scalp, massaging my red tresses. “Let me,” he growls.

I’m so aroused that my nipples are diamond hard, visible beneath the surface of the water. The pillows of my breasts bobble a bit, and another warm gush of liquid pools between my thighs. What is the alpha male doing to me with just his fingers on my scalp? Yet his touch is so gentle and soothing that I let out a breathy moan.

“Mmm,” I murmur, my lashes falling shut as my head tilts back so that it’s supported on the ivory porcelain. “That feels incredible.”

There’s no reply from Karl, but my every cell is attuned to him. His masculine presence dominates the room, invading my senses, and the musky scent of an aroused alpha male fills my nose. It’s a mixture of pine, cedar, woodiness, and just plain male musk. It intoxicates me, and I moan again as he lifts a small jug to let warm water trail through my hair.

“What next, sweetheart?” he rasps. I turn a bit to smile at him over my shoulder, and the heat in those blue eyes stun me.

“Just a bit of conditioner,” I manage, reaching for a second bottle. “Massage it through my tresses, please. Thank you, Daddy.”

The word “Daddy” makes him jolt, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes the bottle and squirts some in his hand before continuing that delicious massage of my scalp.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers behind me, his voice reverential. “Built like a woman.”

“You like my curves?” I ask with a giggle, rousing from my half-dazed state for a moment.

“You know I love them,” he replies in an almost pained tone. “You were built for sex, baby. You were built to make a man happy.”

His words should be offensive but instead, they make me go loose and warm inside.

“Mmm, am I?” I say in a coy tone. “Why, what’s next on the menu, Daddy?”

My growly bodyguard merely pours water through my strands, rinsing the conditioner out, before shifting to sit at the halfway point of the tub, near my waist.

“One foot on each side,” he growls, those blue eyes aglow with hunger. By now, I can see that his sweatpants are gone, and he’s completely naked. My mouth goes dry as my heart-rate accelerates because this man is gorgeous. Huge.Aroused. His pole is at least ten inches long, and as thick as a soda can at the base. Glorious veins snake along the sides, and my pupils dilate because I want to taste it. I want to trace those veins with my tongue before pressing my lips to his tip and sucking the come out.

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