Page 28 of The Prince and the Bodyguard
“So good,” I managed, then decided turnabout was fair play.
When my hand palmed his dick through his pants, Eddie made a sound that was part gasp, part moan, his back arching off the couch cushions. He was hard, as aroused as I was, and the knowledge that I could affect him this way was almost as intoxicating as the physical sensation of touching him.
“Oh god,” Eddie breathed, his hips moving involuntarily against my palm. “I’ve never… That is, I haven’t…”
“I know,” I said softly, understanding what he couldn’t quite articulate. “Me neither. Not like this.”
We found a rhythm together, hands moving over each other through increasingly restrictive clothing, mouths meeting in kisses that grew more desperate by the moment. Our tongues dueled, chased, danced until I wasn’t even sure where my mouth ended and his began. I wanted to inhale him, devour him, possess him. Eddie was making sounds that drove me absolutely crazy, little gasps and moans that suggested he was as close to losing control as I was.
The friction was perfect and not nearly enough, the barrier of fabric both frustrating and somehow intensely erotic. Maybe we should’ve undressed, but somehow, this felt right. We had time and with him being a virgin in every way, he deserved to experience all the steps and not skip any.
I could feel how close Eddie was getting, could see it in the flush spreading across his chest, in the way his breathing had become ragged and desperate.
“I’m going to…” Eddie started, then cut off with a sharp gasp as I increased the pressure of my touch, pressing against his cock with the flat of my hand. He rutted against me, moaning loudly.
“Yeah,” I encouraged, eager to see him come. “Come on, Eddie. Let go.”
When Eddie came, it was with a soft cry that he muffled against my shoulder, his whole body going taut before melting back into the couch cushions. The sight of him completely undone was enough to push me over the edge right alongside him.
I came harder than I had in years, probably since I was a teenager discovering the mechanics of my own body. The intensity of it was almost embarrassing, but Eddie was holding onto me like an anchor, pressing soft kisses to my neck as we both tried to remember how to breathe.
For a long moment, we lay there tangled together on our small couch, the sounds from the TV seeming to come from another world entirely. Eddie’s skin was damp with sweat, his hair a complete disaster, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.
“Well,” Eddie said finally, his voice hoarse and satisfied. “That was unexpected.”
I laughed, because what else could I do? “Good unexpected or bad unexpected?”
“Very, very good,” Eddie assured me, tilting his head to look at me with a smile that was equal parts shy and smug. “If a tad messy.”
“Yeah.” I laughed again. “I haven’t come in my pants since middle school, probably.”
His blush deepened. “I’ve never…”
I cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Then I’m glad I got to give you your first.”
He bit his lip. “If I do something wrong, will you?—”
“I highly doubt there’s anything you could possibly do wrong here, honey. Just do what feels good or what would feel good for you, and you’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” He let out a small sigh. “We should probably clean up.”
He was right, though I was reluctant to move. Eddie felt perfect against me, warm and pliant and mine in a way that I was already getting addicted to. We were both a mess, and the reality of what we’d done was starting to sink in. We’d crossed a line that we couldn’t uncross, moved into territory that was strictly prohibited in any professional bodyguard handbook.
Eventually, practical concerns won out over the desire to stay wrapped around each other forever. We disentangled carefully, both of us hyperaware of our sticky clothes and the need to make ourselves presentable again. Eddie disappeared into the bathroom first, emerging a few minutes later in clean pajamas with his hair somewhat tamed, looking like the picture of innocence except for the satisfied glow in his eyes.
By the time I came out of the bathroom, Eddie had turned the TV off and tidied up our abandoned tea mugs. The couch cushions were straightened, but I could still see the impression where we’d been tangled together, still catch the faint scent of arousal and satisfaction in the air.
We went to bed separately—Eddie to the bedroom, me to my familiar spot on the couch—but everything felt different now. I lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment, every sound Eddie had made, every response I’d drawn from him.
This was dangerous territory we were entering. Not just because of the professional complications or the potential consequences if anyone found out, but because of how much I already wanted it to happen again. How much I wanted more.
Tomorrow, we’d have to figure out how to navigate this new reality. We’d have to go to classes together, maintain our public couple facade, pretend like everything was normal while dealing with the knowledge of how Eddie sounded when he came undone in my arms.
But tonight, I was going to marvel at the fact that it had happened at all. That Eddie—brilliant, beautiful, impossibly-out-of-my-league Eddie—had wanted me enough to let me see him like that.
I was in more trouble than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about the responsible thing or the safe choice or any of the reasons why this was going to end badly.
All I could think about was doing it again.
