Page 83 of Her Guardian
“Y-yes,” I whimper, my breathing causing me to stammer my words. “I-I’m yours…”
“Tonight, tomorrow. Every single fucking day,” he murmurs, plowing into me with harder thrusts once my orgasm peaks.
I gasp something that sounds like his name. Or maybe it’s just a plea for more. Boyd keeps going, not slowing down at all, even when the orgasm finally fades. The pleasure continues to curl through me in waves, sharper and stronger with every hard thrust. Deep, powerful, and they make my g-spot hum as another torrent of pleasure tightens everything inside me. My legs twitch and breathing gets more ragged. I writhe, pulling at the restraints on my wrists and ankles, but I’m not trying to get away. I’m just trying to ground myself before I get overwhelmed with another cascade of bliss.
“You’re going to come for me again,” Boyd rasps, kissing the back of my neck and squeezing my hips. “I can feel it.”
“Yes!” I cry out, my body shaking with a release that makes my knees weak.
“I promised I was going to fuck you hard,” Boyd growls, his length slamming into me while I orgasm. “I meant that.”
My body clenches around him, a fresh wave of heat crashing over me as I shatter into my climax. I cry out—loud. Boyd doesn’t stop. He keeps hammering his cock into me. I’m not sure if he’s just chasing his release now or desperate for another one of mine.
His bed is a lot sturdier than the ones at Salvalagio. The one he broke, at least. He slams into me so hard we’d be amongst splinters if we were in the only one left standing in my room. His doesn’t even move. It doesn’t even creak. Is this why he wanted me in his bed tonight? So he could show me what itreallymeans to get fucked hard?
“Boyd! Oh, fuck! Big Boyd!” I scream, my eyes rolling back in my head as another burst of pleasure erupts inside me.
“I knew you would love getting fucked like this,” he gloats, pulling my hair and furiously pounding his dick into my pussy. “Admit it.”
“I love it!” I gasp, not even thinking about my words, but they’re the truest ones I’ve ever said. “Oh, sweet mercy, I love it!”
Boyd’s hips rock faster until I feel him tense. His breath stutters out in a groan and his pace falters. I feel the full force of his pleasure, throbbing inside me. His hands tighten their grip. My hair strains against the roots. My hip feels like I already have a bruise. But I don’t care. I need to feel his pleasure until there’s nothing left.
“Sarah! Oh, god!” he roars, viciously driving his pulsating length into me as I feel the warmth of his release.
I push back, and another orgasm consumes what is left of my strength while he fills me with his hot seed. He holds me steady, but I go limp once we’re both spent, the afterglow of our shared euphoria making me tingle from head to toe.
Boyd leans forward, releasing the grip, and letting me sink into the mattress. He places a soft kiss on my back. Another on my shoulder. Then he tugs the blindfold until it falls away from my face. I blink into the dim lighting, a couple of tears rolling down my cheeks. Not from pain. Just pleasure so incredible it made my eyes water.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently, removing the cuffs from my wrists.
I nod, still breathless, but I find my words. “Better than okay, Boyd. That was… amazing.”
He massages my wrists where the restraints have left faint red lines from my writhing. Then he slides his hands down my body and removes the cuffs holding my ankles. I stretch out, but then he gathers me in his arms and pulls the sheets over us. I snuggle into his chest, feeling content, safe, and still tingling with the aftershocks of bliss.
This is the only place I want to be.
I wake up the next morning, and there’s a moment of panic due to my unfamiliar surroundings. Then I feel Boyd’s warmth. His big, powerful arm, still wrapped around me. I smile, relax, and lean against his thick chest, tracing a scar that blends into his ink.
It’s so peaceful here. Extremely quiet. I rarely get moments like this at Salvalagio. There are too many guests. People arriving and leaving at all hours. Some celebrating their winnings. Others trying to get out of Las Vegas with what they have left. It doesn’t even feel like Las Vegas here.
Not until I pry myself out of Boyd’s arms, at least. Then I see the city, beautifully framed in every floor-to-ceiling window, like dozens of postcards. I exhale sharply, reach for my vape, and take a puff before I get out of bed.
“Hmm, it’s almost eight,” I mutter, glancing back at the sleeping mass still in bed. “I’m not sure when he’s supposed to get up. I hope he didn’t forget to set an alarm.”
I worry for a few moments before walking to the kitchen. Boyd’s coffeepot is fancier than the ones I’ve used in the past, but after playing with the settings, I figure out how to get a pot brewing. I consider making breakfast, even though cooking isn’t my specialty, but his fridge is practically empty. The only thing edible is condiments, unless you count the beer. It’s way too early for that.
I didn’t bring my laptop, so I sit down with my phone while I wait for the coffee to brew. Boyd’s phone would be lighting up if there was anything new about the Mafia Prince Killer, so I’m not surprised when all I see are recaps. There are several stories about some motions filed by Arthur Dykstra’s attorneys. I make a mental note to review those. I don’t have anything new to share, so I’ll focus on that during my next podcast.
A series of grunts and some heavy footsteps tell me Boyd is awake. The coffee is done, so I hurry over to fix two cups.
“Never been happier to see a naked woman in my kitchen,” Boyd chuckles as he turns the corner.
“You see that often?” I tease, turning to him and sliding a cup of coffee across the counter.
“No,” he says, ignoring the coffee and walking around the counter to pull me into a warm embrace. “I lay in bed for a few minutes convinced last night was just a fucking dream. Then I smelledyouon my sheets.”
“If you were lying in bed, you must not have overslept,” I say, leaning my head against him and enjoying the way his arms feel. “I was worried you forgot to set an alarm or something.”
