Chapter Two: Silent Nights (Claimed by my Bodyguard)

The figure—scratch that—my husband’s marketing director seems to be more in shock than I am, seeing how stunned he is and how his briefcase is on the floor. I lick my lips, still tasting the minty taste of my bodyguard.

“Mrs Moore…” He clears his throat as he speaks, quickly picking up his briefcase. This is a huge mess.

I straighten my hair and dress when I see some workers walking past the elevator. None of them look in my direction; they all mind their business. And as I take a step to leave the elevator, I realize I’m not holding my bag. I must have dropped it when he was kissing the fuck out of me.

I lower my eyes, searching the elevator floor, but he is already holding my bag out to me.

My bodyguard.

I take it, carefully avoiding his hand, trying not to look at his face. As if that would make anything better.

“Mr McKinney.”

I walk out of the elevator confidently. I cannot and will not make myself look scared in front of my husband’s employee.

I finally look at my bodyguard and see him running a hand through his hair again and again, wiping my smeared lipstick off his lips with a handkerchief. That single act reminds me of how he made my pussy so wet and needy for him. I tilt my chin at him, gesturing for him to leave. He walks away immediately, giving me and Mr McKinney some privacy.

“How’s your wife and kids?”

“I saw nothing, Mrs Moore. I swear it.”

Good. He understands where this is going. I don’t intend to hurt his family if he opens his mouth to my husband. I met his wife and kids during my husband’s birthday party. Such a lovely family.

I have no choice but to threaten him. Maybe even buy his silence.

I’m not scared of what will happen to me if my husband finds out.

I’m scared of what will happen to my bodyguard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, I’m exhausted from my Christmas charity visit to the elderly home. The gift presentation went well. And all I can think about right now is home.

And him.

Not like I stopped thinking about him or the moment we shared in the elevator. Every now and then, I catch him looking at me through the rear-view mirror while he drives me home. The silence is painfully, and awkwardly thick.

When we arrive at the mansion, he continues following me. Doing his job.

But his job has become unbearable, because all I want to do is fuck him and kiss him.

“Stop following me,” I say quietly when we reach the staircase, making sure none of the other guards or workers are in sight.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

And suddenly that word, ma’am, has never sounded so sexy. Not on his lips. Not in that voice.

“I’m in my house now. I’m safe.”

He keeps looking at me. His eyes intense, pleading.

He wants to fuck me, as much as I want to fuck him. It’s written all over his face, in his flushed cheeks.

I look away before my thoughts turn into actions. Then I continue climbing the stairs to my room.

He still follows me.

“I said stop following me.”

His footsteps stop instantly. I turn to look at him, only a stone throw from my room now.

“I can’t.”

He’s out of breath. Looking at me like I’m his life support.

“You can’t?” I repeat. “Do you intend on following me to my room?”

No response. Just the sound of my own heartbeat.

“I guess not.”

I shake my head, disappointed he stands there saying nothing.

I continue walking to my room, quickly.

Because part of me wants him to say yes.

Stupid, stupid me.

I kissed him, and I don’t regret it. Instead, I want more. I want to feel him inside me. And I’ll starve myself of it… because I need to be a faithful wife to my lying, cheating husband my parents forced me to marry.

Tears burn my eyes. And the hallway feels longer than usual.

I reach for my door handle after pressing the keypad, but a hand grabs me. His.

“Stop it.”

I try to fight him off, push him away, but he pulls me into him and kisses me.

And I melt.

“I don’t wanna hide it anymore. I can’t hide it anymore,” he says between kisses. “I crave you.”

I whimper as tears roll down my cheeks.

I hear footsteps approaching as we stand there kissing, and quickly, I open my room door and drag him in, dropping my bag and shutting the door. I push him against the wall when the footsteps stop outside.

His eyes widen as he looks at me, and then he bites his lip. It doesn’t seem intentional. Maybe he’s worried like I am. But at this very moment, it’s so damn sexy.

He takes off my coat slowly when a knock comes at the door. I swallow, eyes locked on his reddened lips.

“Ma’am, what would you like me to prepare for dinner?” a feminine voice calls from outside.

“I’m not hungry. I will–”

I'm interrupted as my bodyguard’s hands slide to my waist, and he gives me a lingering kiss.

I feel him against my stomach. His cock. Definitely hard. And definitely big.

“Ma’am?” the voice outside calls again.

“Oh God…” I mutter, pulling back from his kiss, placing my hands on his chest when he tries kissing me again.

My pussy buzzes as he kisses my jaw, my neck.

“I will let you know when–”

He grabs my ass, both cheeks, hard, still kissing my neck.

“–when I’m hungry,” I manage to finish, holding myself from moaning. “This is wrong,” I whisper as I hear the footsteps fading away.

I make him look at me, and then we kiss again, stripping each other quickly.

When we are both down to our underwear, I climb onto the bed, and he does the same, pulling off my panties.

His eyes lock onto my wet pussy, spread open for him.

Begging him to take it.

And just when I think he’s finally going to show me his cock, he pushes my breasts out of my bra, gripping them before sucking one into his mouth. His tongue circles my nipple—slow strokes, then a big, hungry suck.

He lets my breast slip from his mouth, making it bounce. Then he takes my other nipple, his fingers sliding through the wetness between my legs.