Chapter Four: Silent Nights (Claimed by my Bodyguard)

I wake up, alone, staring at the wall clock in my room. He gave me one of the best sex sessions of my life, and he left without letting me know. I sigh, groan, hands on my face, wondering if I’ve made the worst mistake of my life. I thought of dashing out of my room to hug him, tell him never ever to leave my sight. And I do—at least one of those things. But he isn’t there, at my door. I’m being delusional, knowing he’s only ever at my door when I inform him of leaving the mansion.

Am I in love? I shake the thought off immediately. I need to pee and wash up. Down there aches sweetly, and I can’t walk properly. Yeah, undoubtedly the best sex of my life.

Minutes pass in silence. Just the sound of the clock ticking, then my phone ringing. My phone! I jump out of bed and rush to it.

But the smile on my face disappears faster than I had ran to pick up the call when I see it’s my husband calling. I expected a call from the man who’s probably scared of what our encounter will mean. Delusional.

“Love you too,” I lie, ending the call with my usual words. He told me he won’t be back tomorrow for Christmas Eve like he promised. I couldn’t care less.

I promised myself a good Christmas Eve, with or without him. We had both made plans and preparations, inviting neighbors, colleagues, and friends.

They all came. We celebrated, did a countdown, and wished each other a Merry Christmas after the fireworks lit the sky. Each guest received a present. I was given gifts too, but I wasn’t happy. I could only fake it because, even though he was present and on guard, he never looked at me. He watched, alert, but never made eye contact all through the night.

The mansion quiets again. And I try not to think about it. Even when I attempt to sleep in the early hours of the cold Christmas morning, near the fireplace, I can’t.

That’s why I'm putting both of us at risk, going to the bodyguards’ quarters and telling the two bodyguards on duty that I need to see him. They direct me to his quarters immediately, and I walk to it, not caring what they might think.

The door opens just as I’m about to knock. He’s there, looking scared and surprised to see me. My body tenses as I glance toward the bodyguards now out of sight. I start second-guessing my decision. I am putting him in danger.

“Mrs. Moore?” He steps out, eyes darting behind me, scanning quickly.

I shiver in my thick nightwear. It’s still snowing outside. “Where… where are you going?” I rub my arms, curious. “Are you leaving?” He’s still in his suit from the Christmas Eve party and had opened the door before I knocked.

“No, I’m not leaving.” He pulls me inside and shuts the door. I glance around his small but comfortable apartment. Beside him is a small table with a glass of wine and a pack of cigarettes.

He notices me staring at the small table.“It’s cold”

“I’m not judging you.”

He sighs. Even though the apartment feels warm, he takes off his suit, draping it over my shoulders. Goosebumps run across my skin. He offers me a seat and something hot to drink, but I decline—I don’t intend to stay long.

“I heard footsteps,” he says, sipping the wine. “Thought it was an assassin coming for me.” My jaw drops. My hand flies to my chest. What?

“Jeez, I’m kidding. You should see your face right now,” he chuckles, setting the glass down.

“It would take more than an assassin to kill me,” I snap, almost angry that he could joke about something like that.

He chuckles again, his charming dimples on display. “I looked through the window and was shocked… happy to see you.”

I smile, but his constant alertness makes me think. The responsibility he carries—does he sleep? Are both his parents alive? Does he have siblings?

All questions I could ask, but not now. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I say.

He shrugs, hands on his waist. “And…” I pause. He furrows his brows, urging me to continue. I hesitate, afraid of his reaction. “And your colleagues know I’m here.” By colleagues, I mean the bodyguards.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it, Damian.” He smiles at the mention of his name, exhaling heavily. “I couldn’t sleep. I needed to see you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m aware they know.” I don’t ask how he knows. “I couldn’t sleep either.” He sleeps. Good.

“Well, you didn’t look at me,”

“I am looking at you,” he says, eyes flickering up and down my body, assessing me. His gaze lingers on my chest—my breasts—for a beat too long.

I roll my eyes. “I mean you didn’t look at me during the Christmas Eve party. It’s like you regretted it… the sex.” I whisper, embarrassed

“It’s not that. I loved–” He mimics my voice, whispering “the sex.” I laugh, and so does he. “And I would never regret it. Ever.”

He clears his throat, unbuttons a few buttons on his crisp white shirt, not in a sexual way, and continues. “Looking at you then, after having you that night, would have stirred the desire burning for you. You wouldn’t want me fucking you in front of everyone.” I close my mouth, licking my dry lips, turned on by the thought of us fucking publicly.

“Because that’s what looking at your face does to me. Especially seeing you in that red-hot dress, and your Christmas hat.”

“I need you now. Badly.” I let his suit drop to the floor, touching myself, horny.

“Come here.” I go to him, and he kisses my forehead, hugging me tightly. My body crashes into his as if it was made for him. My arms wrap around his waist. When I look up at him, he lowers his lips to mine, kissing me sweetly. His cologne, and intoxicating breath mixing with the scent of cigarettes. I like it.

“You’re hard,” I whisper as I feel his erection straining.

“That’s what you do to me. Being around you makes me hard.”

We start kissing, I wrap my hands around his neck.

“You know… I couldn’t stop thinking of you… of your glistening pink wet pussy. So pink. Your nipples in my mouth” he murmurs between wet kisses, hands slipping under my nightgown, caressing and grabbing my ass. I moan, our tongues now touching.

“And I couldn’t stop thinking about your huge cock,” I rub my hand against his cock in his pants.

“Only my cock?”

“And your handsome face.”

He bites his lip, spanks my ass hard, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. Hands under my ass, we kiss, moving to his bed.

“No,” I stop him just as we near the bed.

“No?”

“No.” Confusion crosses his features. “I want to worship your pretty cock.” He opens his mouth to maybe protest, but I slide down him, kneeling, and start unbuckling his belt. Pulling down his boxers quickly, his cock springs free—the beautiful pink tip glistening with pre-cum.