Page 32 of Big, Burly Bodyguard

I laugh. “A bed sounds good. Though I’m eager enough that I would probably accept just privacy.”

His hand runs up my inner thigh and cups my core.

“Is your pussy needy?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got you, wife. I’m going to make sure your every need is taken care of.”

“I have no doubt.”

“I don’t suppose you have a bucket list for bedroom activities?” he asks.

I laugh. “I don’t, but we should definitely make one.”

Finally, we stumble into the hotel room—keycard beeps, door clicks shut, and then it’s just us. No more chapels, no brothers, no crowns. Mitchell flips on a lamp, casting a soft glow over the king-sized bed that suddenly looks both inviting and intimidating. He turns to me, eyes dark with desire, but there’s that tenderness again—like he knows this is huge for me.

“You sure about this?” he asks, stepping close but not crowding. His fingers trace my arm, sending goosebumps racing. “We can wait. No pressure. I know… this is your first time.”

I swallow, my throat tight with nerves and want. “I’m sure. I want you, Mitchell. All of you.”

He smiles, slow and sexy, pulling me into his arms. “Good. Because I’ve been dreaming about this since the moment we first met.” Our lips meet again, softer this time, building from sweet to scorching. His hands explore—under my shirt, tracing the curve of my back, unhooking my bra with practiced ease. I tug at his shirt, desperate for skin on skin, and he obliges, yanking it off in one fluid motion.

“I had to take myself in hand that first night in the shower,” he admits.

I stare at his chest, the perfect abs, the tattoos, the scars. I trace my fingers over his skin. “I want to watch you do that sometime.”

“Item one on our new bucket list?”

“Sure. Your body is insane,” I admit. “I’m very… squishy and soft.”

“Like a woman should be. I love your curves, Evie. I’m ready to get my hands and my mouth on every one of them.”

That gives me enough courage to take off my own shirt, let my bra fall to the ground. I kick off my flip-flops and then peel my leggings and panties down. Might as well get the big reveal over with right here at the beginning. He’s my husband. He’s going to see all my wiggly bits and stretch marks. The mole on my hip and all of my other insecurities.

“I’m pretty sure my right boob is slightly smaller than my left,” I admit.

He cups my face again. “You are beautiful. Every part of you. Mismatched boobs and all.” His lips quirk in a repressed smile.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“I might be.”

“Rude.”

“Evie, my love, I am not going to measure you or inspect you. I only want to love you. With my entire being. Right now, in particular, with my mouth and my cock.”

“Oh,” I breathe.

“Yes, oh.” He keeps his eyes on mine as he removes the rest of his clothing.

His penis is large. At least I assume it’s large. Certainly bigger than anything I’ve seen on statues or in other artwork. I tried once to look at pornography on the internet, but the palace’s restrictions wouldn’t connect with any of the sites.

In any case, he’s proportionate. He’s a big man, so it makes sense that his appendage would also be big.

He grips his shaft and gives it a tug.

“Oh, that’s very sexy,” I say.