Booty Call (Forbidden Bodyguards Book 2) (14 page)

“Good. When I get you to my place, I’m going to do just that, you know. I’m going to spread you out on my vanity and shave you bare. And then I’m going to lick you until you come on my face.”

Scott loves going down on me. And I love it, too, but good Lord, can anyone hear him? I close my eyes as he slides two fingers deep inside me. He doesn’t fuck them in and out of me. Instead he finds my G-spot and presses there, pulsing a bit as his thumb starts to work my clit.

“Did you know that the G-spot is the back of the clit?” he asks, quiet as a mouse. I swallow a moan and shake my head. He makes a tutting sound with his tongue. “And you’re such a smart girl. What are they teaching you at Georgetown?”

“Not that,” I pant.

He presses his fingers apart, intensifying the feeling. “It’s true. After I shave you, I’ll do this again. Give you a
thorough
anatomy lesson.”

“Awesome,” I say, and he leans in closer, covering my lips with a soft, gentle kiss.

Then he flicks my clit, hard, with his thumb.

I moan and he swallows my cry. He does it again and I jerk. A third time pushes me over the cliff, sending me spiraling into a free-falling climax.

Twenty seconds later, the railway equivalent of a stewardess comes by and offers us warm towels for our hands. Scott takes them both with a straight face while I reconsider my question about sex killing me.

“You’re so gorgeous when you come,” he whispers as he hands over a towel.

Yes, definitely dying.

—twenty-two—
 

Scott

“You have…oh my God, look at that tub!”

It amuses me that a woman raised in the lap of luxury is impressed by the claw foot bathtub in my London flat. “It’s deep,” I murmur, enjoying the swell of her ass as she braces her hands on the edge of it and leans over, stroking the far side.

“You can’t really buy tubs like this. I had a fancy soaker at my parents’ estate, but nothing this legit. Holy crap.” She groans as she straightens up. “I will be thinking about this tub all day.”

“Not me?” I smirk at her as she turns around.

“Not hardly. You, I have at my beck and call back home. This tub… my affair with this tub is going to be a limited-time event.”

And we aren’t? But I know better than to ask her that. Because we are, one way or another, although we both want to push the inevitable end out as far as possible. And
not
asking questions like that is part of the dance.

We’re not going to talk about what we aren’t, what we can’t be, because it’s a given.

But what we
can be…
“I’ll run a bath,” I hear myself saying. “And move my meetings to tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly,” she says, but her eyes light up like it’s Christmas.

And it’s not silly. “When was the last time you had an entire day to yourself? No school work, no obligations?”

She presses her lips together. I suddenly realize the answer is her birthday weekend in New York, and I fucked that up for her, didn’t I?

I pull my phone from my pocket and fire off a text message to my brother, who is at the Mayfair Enterprises offices here.
 

S: Just landed at Gatwick. Delays and now rush hour. Meet tomorrow?

It’s not really a question, but I’m being courteous.

J: Fine. Swamped anyway.

I grin. “Out of the way, babe. I’ve got a tub to fill for you.” I press up against her as she stands up and brush her hair to one side. I lower my lips to her ear. “I’ve got a fresh razor in the closet in the hallway. Go and fetch it like a good girl.”

She shudders and I lazily spank her bottom. She presses against my palm.

While she’s gone, I get naked and start to fill the tub. I add bubbles, which she squeals over when she comes back. I get in first, and she joins me, settling against my front, giving me free range to play with her boobs, which look amazing floating on top of the bubbles. She protests half-heartedly when I slide my hands lower and cup her pussy.

“Gentle,” she reminds me.

My dick flexes at the memory of how many times we’ve fucked already this trip.

“I’ll be good to her,” I promise. “Super gentle.”

She spreads her legs for me. I can’t stop touching her, and not just her pussy. Every inch of her body is perfect to me, from her heavy breasts to her tight ass, and all the curves and long, lean limbs around them. She reaches back and tucks her hands behind my neck, arching her back.

I kiss one soapy arm, then turn and nuzzle behind her ear. She’s got this sensitive spot there, and when I trace it with my tongue…

“Ahhhh!”

She grinds her ass back against me.

I grin. That gives me all sorts of ideas, but she wanted a bath. I’ll give her that before I get dirty.

I sink lower into the hot, sudsy water, and she makes a little sound that punches me right in the chest. It’s pure happiness. I want to bottle this moment for her. Maybe I’ll have this tub ripped out and shipped across the Atlantic for her.

When she’s boneless and blissed out, I nudge her to turn around in my lap.

She straddles me, finding my dick and giving him a happy little squeeze with her hands. “Who knew a bath would make me this happy?”

Not me. If I’d had half a clue, we’d have done this way sooner. “Come here,” I whisper, my voice surprisingly hoarse.

She slips and falls into my chest, giggling as her lips seek mine out. Our kiss starts out lazy and silly, all lips and tongue and laughter, until she shifts on top of my erection and we notch together.

My brain short-circuits. We’ve done this once before, the first time, and I stopped myself.

Her breath huffs against my lips. Her eyes lock on mine. I’m a granite statue. This is her call.

“Just for a minute, maybe,” she says, swivelling her hips in a mini-circle.

She’s so slick. My cock is fucking begging for it. “Uhhhh….God, Ali.”

“Yeah.” She’s breathing so hard as water sloshes around us. “That’s hot, huh?”

“Shit.”

She lowers herself down, inch-by-inch, engulfing me in her heat.

I drop my head back and let my hands cup her breasts. Fucking perfect moment.

She goes slow, riding me up and down. Water’s going everywhere and I can’t get a good pinch on her nipples, she’s slick and sudsy and it doesn’t matter.

Fuuuuuck. I’m going to blow my load inside her. She’s taking her fucking sweet time, and I’m going to fill her with come if she doesn’t stop.

My head is swirling and my balls are practically drumming with excitement. Somehow—I have no fucking clue how—I manage to get my hands on her hips and stop her.

“Not yet,” I say, not quite believing myself. “I promised to shave you.”

She rocks in my lap. “But this is good, too.”

“Good? This is perfect. But we agreed to talk about it, not just…” I groan and thrust into her. I twist one hand into her hair and give her my sternest face. “When I fill you with my come, it’s going to be a deliberate fucking act. Got it?”

“So responsible,” she teases, but she climbs off and balances herself on the corner of the tub, against the wall. As if she hadn’t just scrambled all my brain cells, she lifts her legs and stretches them out along the sides of the tub. “So what do you want to do to me?”

I want to carry her to bed and do unspeakable things, but I’d promised other unspeakable things—that I really have no problem naming—so I shove my hungry dick back under the water and reach for the razor and shaving cream she’d procured from the closet.

I start by lathering myself up. She’d talked about wanting to watch me get myself off. This is just a variation on that, with shaving her in the middle.

“I don’t like to shave everything off,” I mutter, trying to watch her and keep working at the same time. “But I like having smooth balls.”

She’s staring at me, wide-eyed.

“Is this too dirty?” Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

She shakes her head. “Too awesome. Not too dirty. Keep going.”

I clean myself off, then sink into the water. “I thought I’d do the same for you. Leave your pretty curls on top, and shave the rest. It feels good.”

“I bet,” she breathes.

I squirt on a dollop of shaving cream and enjoy spreading it liberally over her mound and over her lips. I inspect my work area closely and decide to start on her mound, just above her clit, carefully shaving around a wide triangle of golden brown curls that would stay. Then with a few easy strokes, I bare her lips, pretty and pink and swollen. I press her open, doing a final swipe up the inside to catch any last strays, then scoop up some water with my hands and rinse her off.

She touches herself. “Oh,” she says. “That’s nice. That’s…very, very nice.”

I lean in and lick her fingers, her folds, her clit. I love my tongue over every inch of her delicious pussy, eager for more of her slippery juices. She leans back on her hands and her legs rise up out of the water. She’s like a goddess in the surf, her tits jutting out and her tiny little waist nipping in, her legs bent and wide open for me.

I want her to come undone for me. I kiss her deeper, fucking her with my tongue as she grinds against my face. It gets me so fucking hard that I’m the only man who’s ever done this to her. The only man who’s felt her tighten like a coil, who’s gotten to wind her up and taste her burst like a fucking peach.

Her juices are running down my face now, so fast I can’t even swallow them, and in the tub below her I’m jerking myself off. She reaches her orgasm before I do, her thighs slamming tight around my head, and I keep her going until she pushes me away. Then I rear up, fisting myself as I rub my cock head all over her slippery cunt.

“In me,” she whispers. “I just want to feel it.”

She clings to me as I snap my hips and find home. My cock has to fight through her swollen folds, and I think it’s gotta hurt her, but she’s writhing against me, begging for more. She comes again, just like that—bam bam—and the slick pull does me in. An electric pulse starts in my balls and shoots through me. I pull out just in time and jerk my cock against her belly, shooting white ribbons of jizz all over her abdomen, and watch it drip down the crease between her hip and her thigh, onto her bare, silky pussy.

Before I can say sorry for being a dirty bastard or you’re welcome, maybe, since she’s whispering how good that was, she’s pushing me back into the tub. She falls on top of me, laughing and kissing my mouth, long drugging kisses that would make me hard again if I had anything left in the tank.

“We’re making a mess,” she finally says, peering over the edge of the tub.

I don’t fucking care. “Worth it,” I mutter, squeezing her ass. “Best bath ever.”

—twenty-three—
 

Alison

We’re heading out for dinner. Mostly because we need some fuel, but also because I’ve never been to England before, and I’d like to see more of it than just Scott’s bathroom. And his bedroom, although all we did in there was nap.

Getting dressed reveals a neat side effect of being shaved—I’m super sensitive.

Scott grins at me as I shift while we wait for the elevator.
Lift
, I remind myself. I like all the different words. They’re fun. England has shot to the top of my “run away from the family” destination list.

“Stop thinking about my bare pussy rubbing against my lace panties,” I say under my breath. Then it’s my turn to smirk. Ha.

“Stop giving me hard-ons in public,” he mutters back.

We’re hopeless. It’s kind of gross, except that it’s our secret and it’s not gross between us. It’s…I had no idea it could be like this. This kind of stupid-happy? This is what other people must mistake for love.

If I wasn’t so jaded, I might do the same.

Good thing I’m totally cynical about such things.

The lift is old and creaky, and we joke about it, so when it stops with a bit of a bang and the doors open, I stumble out, giggling. Scott stops abruptly, and I right myself before looking around.

Ahead of us in the lobby is a woman.

She’s beautiful. Blonde and aristocratic. Well dressed. We have the same boots, I notice. And she’s staring at my boyfriend with a warm smile on her face.

I tell myself this isn’t one of those times when everything I’ve started to let myself believe is proven to be a total lie—like the time I caught my mother sneaking into my grandfather’s room in the middle of the night…or the time my oldest sister, who I idolized, gave the Vice President of the United States a blow job and filmed it for kicks…or the time my father murdered a call girl and got away with it—but I know this feeling.

I trust my gut. I’m twenty-fucking-years-old and I shouldn’t be this wise to feeling like the floor is about to give way beneath me, but here it is.

Hello, betrayal, my old friend. I was wondering when you’d break my heart again.

Scott puts his hand on my arm. “Ali,” he says, and I don’t know if it’s a warning or a plea.

“Scott,” the woman says. “I didn’t know you were back. I mean, I knew you
must
be returning, what with Jeff’s new plans, and the expansion—”

“Madelyn.” His grip on my arm tightens. “We were just heading out for dinner.”

“Delightful!” She claps her hands together. “Could we join you?”

No, my heart hammers.

“Unfortunately our reservation is just for two,” he says. It’s a lie. We don’t have a reservation. We don’t even know where we’re going to eat.

“Where are you going?” She gestures at the doorman behind her. “I’m sure Jacques can call and convince them to move us to a table for four.”

“Four?” Scott asks, and there’s an edge there that confirms I’m not going to like the rest of the conversation.

Madelyn smiles. “John is just parking the car.”

I dart my eyes back and forth between them. Who the hell is John?

“I see. Shame we’ll miss him.” Scott didn’t sound like that was a shame at all. Since when did he lie through his teeth like a socialite on the dating circuit? “But we really must be heading off.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” With a start, I realize that’s me. Scott stares at me and I colour. “If you want…”

“Yes,” Madelyn says, delighted. “Fine indeed!”