Diva (Ironclad Bodyguards Book 2) (13 page)

He reached around her to key open the door and push her inside. She sputtered and turned on him, her eyes alight with fury. Why should
she
be angry? He was the one who’d just been outed by a buffoon of a French gigolo. He should have just let the two of them fuck. He should have shut his mouth and waited down in the lobby.

“I. Cannot. Believe. This.” She said each word like a condemnation, a curse. “I can’t fucking believe this. I can’t.”

“It’s not that big a deal. It was years ago.” He hated being on the defensive. He’d paid the price for his stupid choices, oh, so many times, but he’d moved on. “It’s part of my past. My employer knows about it, and he doesn’t care. It has nothing to do with my ability to look after you.”

Lola threw her arms out to her sides. “Oh, it has
everything
to do with your ability to look after me.” She sucked in a breath, then blew it out. “You judged me, you fucker. You lectured me. You wouldn’t let me have sex because you said the men I chose were creepy, or dangerous, and you… And you…”

“That guy was scary,” he said, pointing down the hall. “He probably has a thousand diseases.”

“You’re no better than him,” she yelled. “You were a porn star. You probably have a thousand diseases too!”

“I have zero diseases, Lola. I’ve been out of the business for over a decade.”

“Oh, you quit the business. Good for you, you freaking slime ball.” She waved a finger in his face. “You acted like you were so much better than me.”

“Why? Because I counseled you? Because I told you to lay off the partying and drugs? I was doing my job, which has nothing to do with—”

“You were being a hypocrite. You’re worse than that dumbass gigolo. You fucked on film. Anyone can see you right now, on the Internet. You made fucking
porn
.”

Ransom’s stomach clenched at her condemning words. Yes, he was worse than the gigolo. He’d made hundreds of films from the age of nineteen to twenty-five, drunk on money and pussy and all the cocaine he could shove up his nose. And yes, you could see all the porn you ever wanted with a simple search for
Rico Rockhard
. Or, in France,
Le Grand Eclair
.

“Don’t dare look on the Internet,” he said. “Don’t even think about searching for those videos.”

“You can’t stop me.” She was in tears. He understood her anger, but he didn’t understand the sadness. Had she felt
that
judged by him? As judged as he felt now?

He knew he couldn’t stop her from finding his films. He couldn’t supervise everything she looked at every minute of every day. She had a laptop, a phone, a tablet, a second laptop she used for her music. He couldn’t stop her from watching them, but he wanted to. He’d made ugly, violent films in an ugly, violent business, fucked women like objects, used drugs to make his dick last longer, the same way the girls had used all kinds of fucked up pharmaceuticals to get through the shoots. “Don’t watch them, Lola.” His voice caught. Her expression was pitiless. “They’re awful. All of them are awful.”

“Oh yeah? I bet they still turn me on.” The glittering tears in her eyes turned harder, into ice blue diamonds. “I need sex. I need release. What am I supposed to do? You won’t let me get it anywhere else.”

So it was sex, then, or his videos. He shook his head.
Don’t do this. Don’t force me. Don’t blackmail me. Don’t make me give in, when I’ve tried so hard to resist you.

“No,” he said. “Don’t even… No.”

“Yes. Fuck you. I’m getting off tonight, one way or another.” She lifted her chin. “I can’t wait to see your pornos, to see your big, fat, tattooed cock. I knew all along you had a porn cock, or you wouldn’t act like such an asshole. I’m going to download every one of your films and jack off to them over and over
and over
.”

He wanted to kill her. He wanted to lose himself inside her. He wanted to erase everything bad he’d ever done, but he couldn’t. He could only do another terrible thing.

Furious lust replaced horror and humiliation, and filled his porn-sized, lightning-tattooed cock. If she wanted sex from him, she’d get it. He ripped her mesh shirt up over her head, then shrugged out of his jacket and threw it on the floor. “You’ll regret this,” he murmured against her neck as he grasped her breasts. She moaned and tugged at his buttons, too frantic to pry them open.

Jesus, her skin was so soft, her body so perfect. She was perfect, but he was terrible, and he was going to end up hurting her. “Out of everything,” he snarled in her ear, “this is the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever done.”

Sex

L
ola shuddered as
Ransom squeezed her breasts, then pinched her nipples. Her hands traveled up to his collar to yank loose his tie. He felt so hard. So big. So strong.

So angry.

But she needed this. She’d wanted this for so long, dreamed of him taking her just like this, in the furious heat of passion. His teeth raked over her ear. Hot breath condensed on her skin.

Lightning.

All this time, her stern and inflexible bodyguard had been an ex-porn actor with a lightning bolt tattooed on his cock. Under that suit, under that tie, under the lectures and warnings, Mr. I Don’t Believe in Empty Sex had a
grand éclair
and a sordid past. He thrust his tongue in her mouth, rough and hot, and while it unbalanced her, it didn’t surprise her. Somehow her body had known this other person lurked inside him. She’d known there was a reason she ached so hard for him. As his kiss deepened, turned commanding and raw, she knew he’d ached for her too.

He released her, leaving her to shiver from the intensity of his assault. She watched as he strode across the room and went through her luggage, through the pocket where she stored a variety of condoms. She could have backed out now that he was away from her. She should have backed out and said,
never mind, forget it
, and he would have left her alone, but she didn’t. She just waited and longed for him until he returned with a gold-wrapped rubber. He threw it on the side table, next to all the normal, everyday things they kept there. Her magazines, his phone charger, his eye drops, her water bottle. Electrolyte water.

He turned and glared at her. “We shouldn’t do this.”

She held her ground. If she had to, she’d threaten him again with the videos, even though they both knew she was going to watch them either way.

Instead, she told him her honest feelings. “If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to die.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

That was all he said, and then he was undressing, tie on the floor, buttons flicked open, shirt and undershirt discarded, dress pants unbuttoned and unzipped.

Oh my God.
My God.
His naked body. The muscles. The chest hair. His…lightning bolt.

Oh.

My.

God.

His huge, erect cock pointed to the sky, and the lightning bolt—the very
long
lightning bolt—pointed there too. She stood enraptured as he finished undressing, then he crossed to her with an impatient look on his face. That was when she realized she was still dressed, except for the top he’d pulled off her. He shoved down her skirt, and ripped off her panties with a caveman grunt that made her pussy throb.

He was naked, right in front of her, and she was naked too. His physicality was a force. His touch grew insistent as his cock poked between them, ridiculously fat and hard and porn-y.
A porn star. Ransom.

Oh my God.

His hands were all over her, stroking, pinching, pulling her closer. He squeezed her ass and yanked her against his thick shaft. She felt overwhelmed by this animalistic side of her bodyguard, so different from the carefully straitlaced person he pretended to be.

There were so many things she wanted to say.
I’ve wanted this for so long. You smell amazing. You’re even rougher than I imagined. Kiss me again, please.
But she couldn’t say any of them because she was so shocked to finally be in his arms. His hands moved up her back and twisted in her hair, guiding her head back so her neck was bared to his kiss. She gave a whimper of pleasure as her sensitized nipples dragged across his chest, across his caveman pelt of hair.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. Those were the only words she could call forth as his fingers pressed against her scalp, causing pleasure and pain. Her other lovers were so tentative, so servile, so grateful just to find themselves in Lady Paradise’s bed. None of them ever possessed her like this, with glorious hunger and forcefulness.

He shoved a knee between her legs and she was wet, so wet. His hand slid down her back and over her ass, and then down to grope her from behind. There was no delicacy in it, no attempt to give her pleasure, only firm fingers searching and penetrating through the flood of her arousal.

“You want me?” He rubbed his cock against her front. “You want this?”

“Yes.” The word came out on a sob. She was already halfway to orgasm, just from the way he manhandled her. “Yes, please.”

It had been too long for her. It had been forever. She’d never been this turned on, this overtaken. He nudged her toward the bed and pushed her back on the rumpled sheets. Her bed, not his. She didn’t care. She’d sleep in the wet spot. She’d sleep in a thousand wet spots just to enjoy this thrilling experience.

He came down over her, his knees spreading her legs, his cock arching up between them. He reached for the condom and rolled it on like a pro.

Because he was a pro. He’d been a pro. She had to remember that before she totally lost her heart to him.

She’d thought he was just a hardass, a stick in the mud bodyguard, but oh no, he was so much more. He moved his hips so his cock nestled between her pussy lips, but he didn’t enter her. She craved him, ached for him, but he only teased her with a long, slow slide over her jangling slit.

Oh God, her clit screamed at the fleeting contact. It was fucking on fire, swollen and super sensitized, and now taunted by his massive tool.

“More,” she said. “Please. I want you inside me.”

“Do you?” He gazed down at her, utterly controlled when she had zero control. She made a sound like she was dying, but it only made him smile.

“Please, Ransom.”

He put a finger over her lips as he teased her again, slick, hard flesh against her pulsing button. What would he feel like inside her? She arched up her hips, reaching for him. He pressed her back, not giving up an iota of control.

“Be still a moment,” he said. “I want to look at you.”

She lay under him, panting, splayed open for his slick, sliding torment. He did more than look. He ran a hand up her stomach, over her torso and between her breasts. He squeezed her boobs and then slid his fingertips to her nipples. She thought he might pinch them again, but when she tried to turn away, he made her turn back, and then he pinched them even harder than before. It hurt like crazy, but also felt so damn good her mouth fell open. When she tried to writhe away from the overwhelming sensation, he held her hips and forced her to submit. She couldn’t take this much longer.

She looked up at him and said, for the twentieth time, “Please, I need sex.”

“I know, baby. You’re gonna get it.”

He was like a god, all his strength and muscles on display, and his control so much more dignified than hers. He held her still and positioned his cock against her entrance. Her pussy blazed like an oven. She was so hot, so wet, so gone. Even wet as she was, she had to brace for the shocking stretch of Ransom’s cock invading her walls. He leaned on one arm, pressing her down with the other as he eased inside her body inch by inch.

“Yeah? Is that what you needed?”

She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She felt too transported to manage words. He captured her half-open lips in another questing kiss as he drove the rest of the way inside her, until she felt too full to move. He stopped then, and held her gaze.

This is a man
, she thought. Not a gigolo. Not a groupie. Not an ass kisser. His eyes said,
I’m inside you. Deal with it.

She squeezed on his girth and he made a soft growl that resonated all the way up to her heart. “I want to fuck you forever,” she said, because those were the first words that came to mind.

He didn’t laugh, or answer her, only started giving her exactly what she needed. Oh, she’d needed this for so long, ever since he’d told her
I’m here to protect you. As long as you’re with me, you’re going to be safe.
He made her feel safe, but he made her feel other things too, like happy, and normal, and oh God, so horny.

His body felt so strong sliding over hers. His arms surrounded her like a cage as he drove in with masterful control, filling her to the hilt. He smelled delicious, like sweat and soap and expensive cologne.

He’s twice your age, Lola. You’re twenty. He’s almost forty.

But she was glad he was almost forty, because twenty-year-old boys didn’t fuck like this. Every time he surged into her, he lit up some spot that made her body shake with building pleasure. “How are you doing that?” she asked, but it came out a bunch of scrambled syllables, like
oh
and
fuck
and
yes
. He smothered her babbling with a kiss. The man kissed like he fucked, with no-holds-barred possession. He moved a hand beneath her, cupping her ass and angling her so he could thrust even deeper.

God, he just grabbed her and moved her wherever he wanted her. She was losing her mind at the novelty of it. He was taking her somewhere she’d never been, where sex and connection made magic. She’d felt connected to him for a while now, because they’d spent so much time together. She’d played her songs for him. She’d told him things she usually kept a secret, like how worn down and confused she felt sometimes.

But she hadn’t realized she could ever be
this
connected to him.

“Beautiful. God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he held her and fucked her, and turned her inside out with his porn star virility. Rico Rockhard, huh? He was rock hard, all right, and rock solid. He was her rock, and she clung to him as her arousal grew to a fever pitch.