Page 83 of The Bodyguard Affair
“You on top of me, your hands touching me everywhere,” I admit, dropping my hand from my stomach, lower, to where I’m strung tight.
“Where are your hands right now?” he asks, like he can sense my every move.
“Um, my thigh.”
“Close your eyes, okay? And imagine it’s me touching you. Dragging my finger up and down your inner thigh. Are you doing it?”
I do as I’m told. I imagine the warm length of his body pressed next to me. The scruff of his beard scratching against my jaw. The rough pads of his fingertips digging into my skin. All the blood whooshes down, lower and lower, until I’m squirming under the sheets. “Yes,” I manage through a whimper.
“Good girl. Where would you want me to touch you now?”
“You know where,” I rasp, desperate to touch myself even lower to soothe the ache between my legs.
“Not yet,” he orders. “Drag your fingers up to those gorgeous tits.”
I do as I’m told, circling my fingers around my nipples, driving myself wild with need, chasing what I imagine is his touch.
“You have the nicest tits, you know that? Do you know how much I’ve wanted to touch them? Suck on them?”
I let out a low, grumbly sound from the back of my throat. I’ve never wanted anyone more.
“Okay, now drag your hand down, over your stomach, and down. You’re wet for me already, aren’t you, baby?” he asks without hesitation, because he already knows the answer.
“Soaked,” I admit, a thrill rocketing down to my toes.
“Swirl your fingers around that swollen little clit, just a bit,okay? I want to hear it. Don’t put your fingers in yet. Just imagine it’s me down there, working you until your pussy is dripping wet and ready for me.” There’s a huskiness in his voice, an edge to match the intensity pulsating through me.
“Fuck,” I moan, swirling my fingers over myself, quickening the pace as the tension pulls tighter in my belly at his voice alone.
“Faster, Andi. I want to hear you beg for me.”
“Okay.” I hold back a desperate noise, letting the feeling simmer and swell there for an unbearable stretch of time.
“Now slowly slide your index finger in.”
“Fuck,” I moan, clenching around myself, imagining panting against his bare skin as he holds me, guiding me through it.
“You’re doing so good. Now put another one in. Is that pretty pussy as tight as I’m imagining it is?”
The moment my second finger slips in, everything feels heightened. The buzz of the ceiling fan, blowing cool air over my naked body. The sound of my own heart hammering against my chest. “So tight. Oh god, it feels so good. You feel so good.”
“I wish I could see your face. I wish I could fuck you myself. Press those legs down, spread you open, and—”
“I want you to fuck me. I need it so badly.” Being here in his bed, enveloped in his scent without him next to me, feels brutally unfair. So I close my eyes, picturing him burying himself in me, losing himself in me entirely.
“Faster, okay? God, I can hear it, the wet sound of your fingers in your pussy. You’re drenched,” he says with a pained grunt, like he knows it. Like he can see me.
“Nolan. I’m close,” I rasp, my other hand swirling over my nipples, pinching, deepening the sensation.
“Open those legs. Wider for me,” he commands.
I do it. I’d do just about anything he wants me to, at this point.
“That’s it, fall apart with me.” Just the sound of his voice alone drives me senseless with need. I think he could order me to do just about anything right now, and I’d do it. No questions asked.
That’s when the tension breaks. He sucks in a breath and then there’s only silence, as though the entire world has frozen over. I let out a wild sound I can barely even hear over the ringing in my ears, suppressing it with my other hand as the shock waves erupt. As I spiral into another galaxy, imagining him next to me, entirely spent, gaze heavy and satisfied. Me tracing my fingers over his chest, over each groove and freckle, like a treasure map.
“Feel better?” he asks, breathless after a stretch of blissful silence.
