Her Bodyguard Read online

  in my mouth, my tongue flicking over and over her nipples until her whining becomes louder and louder.

  I don't want to stop. I want my mouth on her breasts constantly. I want my tongue on her skin, tasting all of her.

  As I kiss my way down her abdomen, her muscles quiver. I breathe her in, sweet and musky, like I've never smelled anything in my life. I want to bury myself in her, to take every inch of her body and make it mine.

  Between her legs, I pause, taking in the sight of her just like this. Spread for me. Wet for me. Panting for me. Tied up like this for me.

  She looks down at me with half-lidded and heavy eyes, drunk with lust and desire and anticipation.

  "Tell me," I say, my fingers meandering slowly up the inside of her thighs. My cock is ramrod-straight again, rock hard and pressing against my pants as I look at her perfect pussy, glistening with her wetness. "Tell me how much you want to feel my tongue on your clit."

  "Please," she whimpers. "I want your mouth on me."

  It's enough.

  Even without saying my name, it's enough to hear her ask me for it. A low rumble comes from somewhere deep inside my chest. I'd like to say that I take my time with her, that I tease her longer, or that I run my tongue in circles over her clit again and again. I'd like to say that I lick every inch of her sweet pussy before thrusting my tongue inside her entrance.

  But I don't do any of that.

  I don't try to draw anything out. I can't.

  I just don't have that kind of control anymore.

  My hands gripping her ass cheeks to keep her steady, I bring my mouth to her pussy. Once I taste her sweetness, I can't think about anything else.

  I fucking devour her.

  I eat her like I'm starving. I'm tonguing her clit and her entrance and she's moaning, louder and louder until she's almost screaming. Her hips buck against my face as I thrust my tongue inside her, no matter how tightly I grip her ass cheeks and press her to me. She fucks me back, the way I think she would if I had her pinned down underneath me in bed.

  When I spread her ass cheeks, a finger pressing tightly against her puckered hole, she comes. She comes with a loud cry, my tongue lodged firmly inside her. Her hips jerk, and I think I might hear her call my name – Max, not James – but I can't be sure because I also think I might have lost my damn mind.

  With one hand, I reach between my legs, stroking my length frantically as she orgasms. I've lost all control, suddenly a horny teenager, and it takes moments before I'm coming again, spilling all over the ground between us.

  When I catch my breath, I look up at her from where I kneel between her legs with my pants undone. She's still trussed up, her hair falling in large pieces from the messy bun that was piled on top of her head but is now sliding to the side. Her chest rises and falls and she's panting as she tries to catch her breath. A sheen of sweat glistens on her arms, chest, and abdomen, and the air between us smells of sex and dirt and hay and summer.

  I breathe it in. I breathe her in.

  She's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

  When I loosen the ties on her wrists, my fingers trace the light red marks on her skin. "I didn't think I tied them that tight," I say, suddenly feeling terrible for tying her up. I don't know what's gotten into me.

  "It didn't hurt," she says softly.

  I bring my lips down to hers. This time the kiss is so tender that it surprises even me. Sarcastic, abrasive, bitchy Princess Alexandra practically melts against me, and my arms encircle her, pulling her into me tightly.

  My heart races and more than anything, I want to pick her up and take her back to the summer house and get her straight into my bedroom. I want her in my bed and I don't want to let her leave. "I think I heard my name when you came," I tell her.

  She pulls back, her fingers tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. "I think you might be hearing things, James. You might want to get that checked out. I'd be happy to have the royal physician pay you a visit."

  "I know what I heard, sweetheart."

  She looks away, suddenly intent on finding her clothes. "I – we – shouldn't be out here like this," she says, her voice trembling. "Naked. Someone's going to come in any second."

  Just like that, she's running again.

  26

  Alexandra

  I've never been much of a runner. I mean, not literally anyway. Metaphorically, I guess I've always been one. Well, maybe even literally if you count the times I've run away from my bodyguards, which have been numerous. Those incidents mostly involve sprinting.

  The past couple of days, though, I don't know what's gotten into me. I've been waking up early in the morning and dashing out of my room to run before Max comes onto his shift. With one of the other bodyguards lumbering silently a respectable distance behind me, I've gone running for an hour every morning around the outskirts of the large property.

  I don't know why I've been running. I just know that ever since what happened in the stable, I've had all of this nervous pent-up energy I can't get rid of. The orgasm should have relieved that feeling – at least that's what I would have expected – but that's not what happened.

  It's a million times worse now.

  I find myself wanting him more and more. Hooking up with him wasn't what I thought it would be – a one-off that scratched an itch and made me want him less afterward.

  Instead, I keep thinking about him. I keep fantasizing about being with him again. Worse, I keep thinking about how much I want him to take control, to render me helpless and to take me completely.

  That's freaking terrifying.

  So, I've been keeping Max at a respectable distance, trying to ignore the way he looks at me and how he smells when he stands close to me. I've been trying to forget how he tasted, and how his mouth felt between my legs.

  It's not working.

  So, I call Charlotte to distract myself. What I need is to talk to my friends. I haven't talked to any of them since we got to the summer house. I need to remind myself of who I really am, the Princess Alexandra who parties and flirts with boys and is completely carefree.

  The Princess Alexandra who doesn't think about one man all the time, who doesn't crave the touch of one man.

  The princess who doesn't surrender control to one man.

  "Earth to Alex." Charlotte's voice cuts through my thoughts. She holds up her phone in front of her face, lying in her bed chatting to me through the video app. She sighs, snapping her gum loudly as she twists a long strand of hair around and around her finger. "I can't believe your father is keeping you all cooped up like this for the entire summer. It’s a tragedy, you know."

  I can't hide a snort of laughter. "Yes, it's practically criminal the way he's forced me to spend two months in this mansion in the countryside with a pool and tennis courts and stables and lakes and household staff and chefs."

  "Are you defending your father?" Charlotte asks, surprised. "And yes, it should be criminal. He's basically killed you, you know."

  "Come again?"

  She rolls her eyes. "Socially, I mean. He's basically killed your social standing. You're going to be a pariah by the time you get back. You've become a leper."

  "I'm a princess. I'm not going to become a pariah. Don't you think that's a touch dramatic?"

  "Is it, really?? You haven't posted anywhere online in weeks, Alex. That's basically the social equivalent of years. You've pulled a Kardashian and disappeared completely. People are asking if you're okay, you know." She points to her temple. "In the head, I mean."

  "Who's asking if I'm okay? And Kim Kardashian disappeared after men broke into her apartment in Paris. I retreated to the country like we do every single summer for vacation. It's hardly the same thing."

  "Reporters are asking," Charlotte insists. "They're asking your friends for quotes about your mental stability. Eva and I were out last night and they asked us about you."

  Now I giggle. "Well, I'll count on you to let them know that I'm just as mentally un