My Fiancé’s Bodyguard by Ivy Wild

A womanwho reminded me a lot of Doris had been my saving grace that evening. Johnny ruled Boston, but Eleanor ruled Johnny. She served us dinner and dessert, and afterwards, when Johnny tried to dismiss her, she refused to leave until I was taken to my room.

If anything, she seemed like the real matron of the household and the woman Johnny should be marrying. I thanked Johnny for the afternoon and the evening and made my way through the horribly decorated house behind Eleanor.

When we reached the guest room that was apparently for me, she closed the door behind us and stood against it, her hand holding the knob tight. I gave her a questioning look and she returned it with a sad smile. "I've done all I can for you this evening, but keep your door locked and don't answer it during the night."

"Um, okay," I replied to her. "Am I in danger?"

She sighed. "I suppose that depends on your interpretation. But, let's just say you're not the first young girl Johnny has intended to marry, and I don't think you'll be the last either."

I tried to process what Eleanor was saying. "If I sleep with him, do you think he would call off the wedding?" I wasn't sure if that would be a good or bad thing at this point. My thoughts were a swirling mess.

But Eleanor shook her head. "It takes him about a year to lose interest. You're a little older than the ones before you."

"How is that even possible?" I replied. "I've only just turned twenty-two."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow at me and a shiver ran through me. "Keep the door locked," she said. "And pretend you are asleep even if there's a knock."

I nodded my head, and she turned around and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. I immediately went to the door and locked it, not wanting to take any chances. I looked around the room at the horrible blood-red wallpaper and antique furniture. The whole place just felt old, and I wondered how many young girls Johnny had sleep in this bed before me.

My father sure knew how to pick 'em.

My little pink suitcase was leaned up against the wall, and I walked over to it and placed it on the bed. I unzipped it and breathed a sigh of relief. The contents had definitely been rearranged and the lining had been pulled back. The journal was gone and some of my anxiety lifted. I'd put my trust in Max and he'd come through.

I so desperately wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't fall. It was probably a good thing. Making any noise would only invite trouble.

I realized that he was the thing giving me the strength to keep going. I thought about my mother and his friend and reminded myself of what was at stake in all of this. I made my way to the attached bathroom to shower and change.

I was exhausted, but sadly, I knew I wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.

Around 2 a.m.the tap I knew would come sounded quietly in my room. I was still wide awake, just staring up at the ceiling, completely unable to sleep because I felt both unsafe and uncomfortable in this house.

The tap sounded again and I stayed absolutely still in the bed, not wanting to give any indication to the person on the other side of the door that I was awake.

The tap sounded a third time, but this time, I realized it wasn't coming from the door. And it didn't sound like fingers on wood. It sounded like stone on glass. I chanced to sit up in the bed and the faint tapping sounded again.

This time I knew it was from the window. I walked over to it gingerly and pulled it back. I had to cover my mouth from screaming in surprise. Max put his finger up to his lips to tell me to keep quiet, and I nodded my head and opened the window ever so slowly.

He was dressed in all black and was perched precariously on a nearby branch of an oak tree. Climbing from the branch to the window would have terrified me, but he did it effortlessly and within thirty seconds, he was inside the room, closing the window and pulling the blinds tight.

His steps were silent as he moved through my room, grabbing the throw pillows from a nearby chair and shoving them under the door to help prevent any sound from escaping. I stood there in the still of the night as he checked the entire room over before finally walking right up to me.

He didn't say anything and he didn't let me say anything. Instead, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he pulled me flush against his body before kissing me. His lips moved against mine and I never wanted the feeling to stop. The entire day I'd felt anxious, but when he pressed his lips to mine, all of it just melted away.

He pulled back and I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head. He grabbed my hand and led me into the bathroom, closing the door behind us before stuffing more towels beneath the door.

"Okay," he said. "We can talk in here but quietly."

"Did you get the journal?" I asked him with bated breath.

He nodded his head.

"And?"

He looked sad and the anxiety that I thought had disappeared returned and hit me right in the chest. He shook his head and I leaned against the wall for support.

"It might help if we had something else. But, on its own it's not going to give us what we need," he said.

Tears started to fall from my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks. "Oh my god," I said, mostly to myself. "I've ruined everything by doing this. They're going to suspect now."

He came over to me and pulled me tight against him. I let his strength hold me up. "It's okay," he said. "You staying here has given me a different opportunity."

I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes and looked up at him. "What did you do?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I just need you to worry about staying safe here." He paused before asking in a dangerous voice, "Did he touch you?"

I shook my head. "No. Eleanor wouldn't let him."

"Who's Eleanor?" he asked.

"This house's Doris," I replied, knowing he would understand that.

He nodded. "Good. Because if he did." His words trailed off and I didn't need to hear the rest of them to know what he was thinking.

"Max," he said, trying to get him to look at me. "I'm all but engaged to him. If we don't have what we need yet, I might end up marrying him. You have to understand that." I said it, but my mouth felt like glue the entire time.

I could see Max's jaw tense. "He doesn't deserve to touch you," he finally said.

"And you do?" I asked him. I didn’t know why I asked him that. But, I think something deep inside me wanted his answer.

He was quiet for a minute before he looked at me with those gray eyes of his. "No. But, I can't keep away from you. Us being together is reckless and dangerous and stupid, all wrapped into one. But, it's all I want."

He breathed his answer out as his fingers held tight to my shoulders.

"On the phone," I whispered slowly. "You said you lo--" But he didn't let me finish what I was saying.

His lips pressed against mine and he pushed me into the wall. I could feel his need for me pouring out from him and I responded. For weeks I'd been without him. Only able to talk to him over the phone. Only seeing him from a distance.

His feelings didn't translate well through those mediums. My doubt about him, about this, about us had grown the entire time. But now, as he pushed himself into me, kissing me like I didn't belong to some other man, I knew he wanted this as much as I did. I knew that in the fakest of circumstances, we'd started to build something real.

"Max," I breathed out as I felt his erection grow against my body.

"Tell me I can have you," he rasped against my neck as he worked the skin there.

"Yes," I whispered back. His hands moved over the loose silk chemise I was wearing before he pushed the straps down and let it fall to the floor. He reached down and picked me up, wrapping my legs around him before bringing me over to the vanity and putting me down.

"We have to be quiet," he whispered into my ear, and I shuddered but nodded my head. His lips pressed against mine again before he pulled back. "You can't make a sound."

We held each other's gaze and I nodded. He reached down and grabbed hold of my ankles, placing my feet up on the vanity, forcing me to expose myself to him. I gasped but he gave me a warning look and I put my hand over my mouth. His finger slipped beneath the lace of my underwear and pulled it aside. I bit my lower lip as he lowered himself down, pressing his tongue against me and tasting me.

I'd only ever been with Max, but I couldn't imagine letting any other man do this to me. I didn't want any other man to do this to me.

I kept my hand pressed over my lips tightly because keeping quiet while he worked me with his tongue, tasting me, teasing me, sucking me, was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do.

"Fuck," I let slip out as first one finger then the second one entered me. He worked me slowly at first, getting me warmed up and stretched out until before I knew it, his fingers were gliding in and out of me, the sounds of his tongue and fingers working against me filling the bathroom.

Just when I thought I was about to come, he stood and pressed his lips against mine. I could taste myself on him as he kissed me. It felt taboo and forbidden, just like this entire encounter. But, in some ways, that made it so much more thrilling.

I reached down to start undoing the buttons on his pants and he let me. When I'd finally freed him, I tried to climb down from the vanity, but he pushed me back and held me in place. "No," he said as he lined himself up with me. "I need you now."

He didn't wait for my response. He knew I wanted him, wanted this, as much as he did. He sheathed himself inside of me and I gasped. He brought his hand up to cover my mouth this time as he started to press into me. "Fuck you feel so good," he whispered into my ear. His movements were smooth and he'd already worked me to the point of no return.

Within seconds I was cresting as he continued to press in and out of me. My walls pulsed out my release as warmth and pleasure spread through my body. I let my head fall back against the mirror and watched him as he watched me.

The way he was looking at me was so intense. Max being inside of me was dangerous. He was putting his life and all his hope for vengeance on the line by being here with me. It made me feel desired. Not for my position. Not for my status. But, for me.

"I love you." The words slipped from my mouth as he continued to press into me. His gaze intensified on me as his hand slipped behind my neck before pulling me into a searing kiss.

Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me off the vanity and flipping me around. I found myself staring at us in the bathroom mirror as he slipped into me from behind. I let out another gasp and his hand pressed down on my lips again, cupping my mouth to prevent me from making any noises.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he husked against my ear quietly as he continued to press into me, faster this time.

The stone of the vanity was cold against my palms as I held myself up. It felt wrong but I couldn't look away from seeing us in the mirror. Max looked animalistic, fierce, and totally consumed by the moment, and I found myself falling deeper and deeper for him.

I knew in this moment that there was no way I could marry Johnny. Not given how I felt about Max. And not how he clearly felt about me.

His hand left my mouth, traveling down to my neck, choking me slightly as he pushed into me, using his hold on me as leverage. His lips were hot against my ear and he began to whisper things to me as he got closer to his edge.

"I can't stand seeing you with him," he whispered as he continued to press into me.

"Fuck, Max," I whispered as my hand came up to brace myself against the mirror.

"I want to be the only man who sees you like this," he husked. "Who fucks you like this."

"God, yes," I breathed out.

"Tell me."

"I'm yours," I whispered as I looked up. Our eyes met in the mirror.

"No, you're not," he whispered. "But, I want you to be."

And with that, he closed his eyes and let himself go inside of me.