Page 46 of Her Guardian
“I guess this means you won’t need all those old stories,” I say sarcastically. “You’ve got plenty of content now that your favorite serial killer is back.”
“I’m sure I’ll need them in the future,” she says, taking a puff of her vape. “But did you see how many listeners I had? Every true crime blog will be pointing people to my podcast by this time tomorrow. There are already a dozen posts about it on Reddit.”
“Mm,” I say, not really understanding much about it. “Is that how your podcast got popular before? Blogs and whatnot?”
“Sorta,” Sarah says. “I was still pretty new to podcasting back then, but I covered the first two murders in Chicago and was one of the first podcasters to suggest it could be a serial killer. People remembered that, and by the fourth murder, everyone was listening to me. And I didn’t even really have any exclusives back then. I just got lucky because my podcast was heavily focused on Mafia true crime. Now there’s a million podcasts like mine thanks to the Mafia Prince Killer.”
“Well, none of them got the exclusive, did they?” I question.
“Nope.” Sarah gets up and walks over to me. “I have you to thank for that.”
“Yes, you do.” I grin and pull her into my lap. “Time to pay your debt for that exclusive. I know exactly what I want, too.”
I spin Sarah around, put her on the bed, and my lips are on hers in an instant. She whimpers into my mouth, and I feast on the beautiful sound. My hands pull at her clothes while she unbuttons my shirt. My dick is hard in my pants before her hands make it that far, and I’m so eager, I shove them off.
“Don’t rip my bra off this time,” she whispers, her nails digging into my neck. “I only planned to stay a few days, so I didn’t bring that many.”
“I’ll buy you some more,” I promise, twisting the padded fabric until the clasps break. “I might rip off your panties, too. If you don’t take them off fast enough.”
“Oh, sweet mercy,” Sarah sighs, but she grinds herself against my erection, begging for more.
Sarah arches her back and lifts her hips so I can strip off her jeans. She slides her panties down quickly, so I spare them, and yank them the rest of the way off her gorgeous legs.
This beautiful girl has become my addiction, and I need another hit. I rub my fingers along her folds until I feel the wetness, then I guide my cock to it. She groans when I go inside her and it feels like her tight pussy cuts off the circulation in my dick, but I don’t care. I needmore.
“Who do you think…” she groans into my ear. “Who do you think the Mafia Prince Killer might go after next?”
“If you talk about your damn podcast while I’m fucking you, I’m going to wear your ass out with my belt,” I threaten, a little more harshly than I should.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
If she can eventhinkabout her podcast right now, then I’m not doing my job well. I hold her close and drive my length into her tight little pussy hard enough to make sure the only thing on her mind is my big fat cock. No fucking distractions. No fucking podcast. Especially right now.
I love the way she feels. The way she smells. The taste of strawberries and cream on her lips. Everything about this gorgeous woman has captivated me. And she’s mine. All fucking mine. If she needs me to help her get exclusives for her podcast, then I’m the man for the job. Becausesheis my job now—the only one I care about. If the Morandi family doesn’t need me, then I don’t need them. I just need Sarah.
In my arms. In my bed. Whimpering my name before she screams it.
I settle into a hard rhythm and pound myself into her. She can take it now. Her body welcomes me like a glove welcomes a hand.
The pressure builds up in my balls, but I fight against it. I don’t know how many I have left in me, even after a nap, but I intend to find out. I’ll fuck her until sunrise if I can. Even that won’t be long enough for me to get my fill. I’ll need a lifetime for that.
I feel her walls twitching and I can tell she’s close. Her breathing gets rapid. Her heart thumps against my chest so hard I can feel it.
“Don’t come yet,” I rasp into her ear. “Not until I give you permission.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whimpers. “It feels too good! Boyd!”
“No,” I snap, tangling my fingers into her hair and yanking until I hear a loud moan. “Not yet.”
I hammer my length into her while she teeters on the edge of an orgasm. Her hips squirm and her breaths turn into ragged pants of pleasure. The need is practically radiating from her body. I feel it too, but I don’t want to give in. I want to feel her sweet release while I unload inside her tight little pussy.
“Boyd, please,” she whines. “I can’t hold out much longer!”
“You won’t do it without permission,” I warn, lifting her off the bed until she’s straddling my hips so I can slam my cock deeper. “Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you? Say it.”
“Oh, sweet mercy!” she cries out, her body tensing up from the new angle. “I’m your good girl. I won’t come without permission… but please give me permission!”
“Permission denied,” I say, slapping her ass now that I have access.
