Page 36 of Damaged Protector

“Lemme alone,” she protested, slapping at my bothersome hand.

I chuckled low and deep, pulling my hand back. “You want to wake up and put some pajamas on?”

She let out a growl of frustration like I’d just asked her to run a marathon with cinder blocks tied to her ankles. Brow furrowed, lips pursed, she glared. Even though her eyelids were closed, I could still feel it.

Someone was grumpy when their sleep was interrupted, and it was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

Until…

“Fiiiiine,” she groused, unbuttoning and unzipping her jean shorts before lifting her hips and shoving them down her thighs.

Christ on a fucking crutch.

Pulling my eyes away, I stared at the white padded headboard behind her, but not before I caught a glimpse of panties that exactly matched the Barbie-pink of her shirt. Lace ones, for fuck’s sake.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most moral man when it comes to sex stuff, but my absolute gold standard is consent. It’s something I’m completely feral about, and Mallori hadn’t consented to me ogling her in her underwear.

Number one, she’d admitted to being tipsy, and number two, she was half asleep. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of who was in her bedroom as she kicked her feet until the tiny shorts flew across the room.

“There,” she snapped grumpily, “happy now?”

“Ecstatic, Little Bee,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes away from her tight ass when she rolled onto her side and curled up. I swiftly covered her with the sheet and comforter, proud of myself for not looking down even once.

I’m a paragon of virtue, I chanted in my head as I walked away and closed the door behind me. My will power is forged from reinforced steel.

After shutting down the house, I went to my bathroom and turned on the shower before shucking my clothes. My cock was fully hard, and I surrounded it with my large hand, my fingertips flicking at the piercings near the tip.

Stepping into the hot steam of the blue-tiled shower, I gave myself a long stroke. Relief. That’s what I needed. My dick had been unused for weeks, and now I had this forced hiatus from sex due to Mallori staying here.

Nope, not gonna think about her.

My thickness throbbed against my palm, and I squeezed almost to the point of pain before setting a quick, rough pace up and down my shaft. It was smooth and hot, the tip leaking to ease the glide of my hand.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I groaned, slapping my free hand against the wall and allowing the water to spill over my lowered head. I watched my cock disappear into my fist, the head reappearing with each quick stroke.

I loved sex. Everything about it. The sights, the sounds, the smells. But especially the sights. Watching my length vanish inside a woman was my favorite thing. That’s why doggy was my preferred position. The view was fucking outstanding, whether I was taking her pussy or her ass.

But a blow job… “Fuck yeah,” I groaned, punishing my dick with a hard fist.

A woman on her knees for me. The gagging noises. My hand around her throat. Her quickening pulse against my fingers, not knowing if I was going to squeeze the life out of her if she spilled a single drop of my cum.

Standing in my shower, I allowed my mind to draw the filthy picture until I could visualize the woman kneeling before me. Full lips stretched around my impressive girth. Saliva sliding from the corners of her mouth.

“That’s it, honey. Take every inch,” I growled. “Suck that cock like you mean it.” Cherry lips swallowed me down, and watery aqua eyes stared up at me.

I slammed my lids closed. No. Not aqua. Brown eyes. I forced dark irises to the forefront of my mind and when I opened mine again, chocolate eyes held my gaze. Twisting my fingers in the top of the brunette’s hair, I defiled her mouth until she would be hoarse for a week from my treatment.

Without my permission, those fucking eyes turned blue-green again, and the hair my hand was gripping morphed into a pale blonde. Small tits bounced with the force of my thrusts, and I caught a hint of pink lace panties.

I squished my lids shut again, but the vision was still there.

And I came—hard—my release hitting the tiles and sliding down the wall in thick trails.

“Fuuuuck,” I moaned, letting my forehead thunk against the wall of the shower as I pumped myself dry.

Paragon of virtue, my ass.

Chapter 11