My Number One Priority

Emma Starletto's stuck in her bedroom flipping through magazines when her bodyguard Codey Steele walks in to say he's done the last check of the day. She rolls her eyes—yeah, she's under protection, but does he have to check on her every five damn minutes? Parents got targeted, so she's house-bound, bored out of her skull, and taking it out on the guy who's just doing his job. Restless doesn't cover it. She heads to the kitchen for tea. Codey follows like a shadow. The burner won't light, so she asks him for a hand. Their fingers brush, eyes lock for a beat too long. She reaches for a top-shelf mug; he steps in to help, chest pressing warm against her back. She thanks him with a flirty little smirk. He plays it cool—professional. Then she drops a tea bag, they both dip for it, mouths inches apart. Water spots on his suit—she starts wiping, bodies flush. Doesn't back off. Rubs his lapels, straightens his earpiece, feeling the muscle underneath. Tells him she's caught him staring. Admits she's been staring too. They could blow off some steam, keep it between them. He fights it—her safety comes first, job's on the line—but she's persistent. He cracks. They go at it right there in the kitchen, weeks of built-up tension pouring out in every thrust and moan. Blonde on her knees, small tits bouncing, his cock in her mouth, then deep inside until he fills her up. No more pretending.