Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

30

Gage

I heldSavannah in my arms as she trembled, and her pussy clenched around my cock. It felt good, sure—it felt amazing—but it was so much more than that. It was transcendent. It was like a religious experience. It transported me to realms beyond this earthly one.

I wanted to tell her that. I wanted to kiss her forehead and stroke her hair and whisper to her what this meant to me.

But I couldn’t. I held it back. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, actually. So I just held her, and then kept thrusting into her when her powerful climax had passed.

She clung to me, kissed my neck, moaned against my skin, ran her fingers through my hair. God, it felt amazing…but it also felt really intimate. Too intimate, as a matter of fact. And, suddenly, I knew I couldn’t stand that anymore.

But the sound of her tears after I had pushed her off of me last time were still fresh in my mind. I also knew I couldn’t put her through that again. I was going to have to make this less personal, but never let her know that that’s what I was doing.

I dipped my head and growled in her ear, “I want to take you from behind.”

With that, I pulled back, grabbed her hips and spun her around like a ragdoll, and then thrust into her again. Her palms slapped against the shower wall and she moaned.

“God, Gage, it’s good…it’s so good.” Her voice rose on the last word, turning the moan into a whimper.

That was fine. I could handle that. It turned me on, even. I just needed that little bit of distance, that little bit of being removed. My heart just wasn’t ready to go all the way in.

I slid one hand around her waist and up her belly, still gripping her hip firmly with the other one so that she wouldn’t slip. With the hand that was exploring her body, I cupped her breast and flicked her nipple with my thumb. God, even with the hot water sluicing over our bodies and making our skin slick and wet, her nipples were so hard that I felt the distinct scraping against the pad of my thumb as it passed over the stiff nub.

Judging by the way she cried out when I did it, and the way her pussy tightened on my cock again, I guessed that she felt it, too.

Pride bloomed in my chest. This had always been my mission in life—protecting Savannah, serving her. Giving her safety and comfort, tenderness and pleasure. I had been adrift those dozen years we’d been apart. I had no mission.

Actually, no, that wasn’t true. It was worse than that. I’d had a mission. I just hadn’t been allowed to complete it. And that was torture.

I leaned forward, pressing my chest against her back. It felt so good just to hold her in my arms, feel her skin against my skin. I was fulfilling my mission again. This was what I’d been born for, I was sure of it. To hold Savannah, to care for her, to protect her.

To love her.

My gut clenched at that last thought. I loved Savannah. I knew I did. It was just a lot to deal with. Especially with the physical closeness we were sharing making my emotions so much more intense.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Better to just focus on my body. On one part of it, in particular. I pounded into her harder, hearing our skin slap together with every bone-shaking thrust, the sound mixing with the steady stream of the water to form a syncopated beat.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so good,” I rasped in her ear. “I’m gonna come, Savannah. Fuck, I’m gonna come right now.”

She tilted her head back, nestling into my shoulder. “Yes, baby,” she whispered. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want you to feel good.”

That was all I could take. It put me over the edge.

I pulled out of her and whipped off my condom lightning quick. I wanted to shoot my load all over her. Like marking my territory. I didn’t care that we were in the shower and it was going to wash off of her and down the drain almost immediately. That was beside the point.

She would know. And I would know. And that was enough.

With a loud grunt, I came, covering her lower back and ass with my ejaculate. Even at that intense moment, I couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful she was…the curve of her lower back, the way her waist nipped in. The shape of her, the feel of her skin, the way she moved—she was intoxicating.

She was my dream woman. For so many years, in fact, that had been literally true. The only place I could see her, could be with her, was in my dreams.

But now she was here, she was real, she was in my arms. She was naked, pressed against me.

It was almost too good to be true.

With a flash, I realized that that was what all of my fear had been about. Not wanting to get too close, or give my whole heart. It wasn’t that I was afraid to love Savannah. Hell, I did love Savannah. That ship had sailed.

It was that I was afraid this was all too good to be true. That I was going to wake up tomorrow and find out that all of this had been a dream.

Or, worse, that this was reality—but I was going to fuck it up somehow. That I wouldn’t survive long enough to get to enjoy love, and life, with her.

Or, the worst possibility of all—the one that I almost couldn’t even think about, it was so horrible—that she wouldn’t survive this.

And that it would be all my fault.