#c evans

He led your bewildered form into the cozy cathedral ceiling bedroom, rubbing your back along the way. “It’s ok if you don’t want to try this, I just thought it’d be fun.”

Once you crossed the threshold and spied the daunting, black Fuck Machine propped at the foot of the bed, there was no way you could say no.

Your knees buckled when you saw the thigh straps laying innocently on the blue and white striped comforter but luckily Chris caught you with a solid hold around your waist.

“Gettin’ excited already, Sweetheart?” Chris whispered, tickling the shell of your ear. “It’s gonna be a long night. I’ve wanted to strap you down for a while now.”

You whimpered pitifully knowing he’d make this a night you’d never forget.

He helped remove your clothing and watched as you got comfortable on the bed, curiously eye balling the machine. Suffocating heat consumed your body and made your pussy slicken picturing yourself tied down and at his mercy.

“Bring your ass close to the edge. Gotta line it up correctly.”

You shimmied down, bumping your soaked core against the black dildo and smearing your slick on the small head. The thickness wasn’t intimidating but the mechanism it was attached to had your belly somersaulting.

“Comfy?” Chris asked while tightening the black strips surrounding your thighs. He pulled on the binds making your legs spread obscenely wide, showcasing your shiny inner folds desperate for attention.

Tearing your eyesight from the peculiar contraption with a cradling hand to the back of your neck, he directs you to look at him. “Anytime you need to stop, say “RED” or snap your fingers.”

You nod in compliance and repeat the safe word.

Chris seemingly pleased with your submission trails his fingers down your chest playfully, tweaking your perky nipples between his fingers and making you squeal before moving on until he reaches his final destination.

His thick fingers trace circles around your tiny nub and runs the pads of his fingers over your outer lips slowly before sliding his digits into your heat.

Two ample fingers stretch you wide and press against your walls making you purr. “Gotta open you up a bit. Make sure you can take this fake cock real good. Wanna watch your cunt get fucked hard tonight.”

Chris smirked when your pussy clenched and you mewled wantonly under his touch. Your eyes locked on his as he scissored his digits making you feel the burn as he held your head in place.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you writhe under my thumb.” His eyes gleamed with elation as your bottom lip started to tremble.

“Relax, Darlin’. This’ll be fun.” He winked before letting your head drop onto the bed with an “-oof”.

He drizzled a copious amount lube onto the phallic object and placed the small tip just past your opening. “Not that you really need lube, you’re already soaking the comforter.” He said condescendingly, making your face warm as you felt your arousal drip between your cheeks.

He stood and reached for a tiny silver and black remote he left on his nightstand as your heart raced a mile and minute just waiting for him to press the button. He loved making you wait, loved watching your eyes go wide with nervous excitement.

And with a click of a button, the machine whirled to life.

It ever so slowly pushes into your drenched heat, spreading your walls with its ridged texture before dragging itself out leisurely. The sensation was unusual, the stretch you were familiar with but the whirring of the machine made everything feel different, almost clinical.

Chris clicked the button again upping the speed when your eyes shut at the pleasure blossoming in your belly. Letting out a soft sigh, you relish the way the machine never ceased, constantly prodding and pushing past your inner lips with prowess.

You’re shaken from your thoughts when Chris leaned on the bed with his fists and loomed over you.

“Ready for more, Darlin’?”

His eyes are hard but edged with his usual softness, making sure you were alright with continuing.

You wiggled your hips, desperately needing the machine to pick up its pace. The steady drives were starting to feel torturous and you wished it to move faster.

Your hands dug into Chris’s shirt as you begged, “Yes. More. Please.”

Chris licked his lips as he watched you squirm, already looking shamelessly fucked and on the brink of cumming and it was only the second speed. He loved seeing you this way, so worked up, knowing it was all his doing. Something about the way your eyes glazed over and the sweat that beaded your brow got him rock hard.

He ripped his shirt off and unbuckled his jeans and let them hang open on his hips while he teased you a bit more with the slower speed. He fisted out his hardening cock with a groan and gave it a few tugs as he took in the tantalizing view.

“Like what you see, Baby?” Chris teased as you watched him work his thick length. You groaned obscenely; the image of your tatted man touching himself add fuel to the flames.

Your core fluttered around the dildo as Chris jerked his cock in time with the machine. Up and down, up and down. Constantly spreading you open and dragging itself over your clit. It started to drive you mad as it held you just on the precipice.

You tugged at the binds holding your thighs open and reached for Chris, “Fuck, please, make it go faster!”

He upped the speed, clicking the remote 4 times quickly which propelled the machine to pound into your heat at a much quicker pace. The fake cock dove past your opening and slid over your G-Spot with every thrust as it met your tilting hips.

Your back arched from the invasion of the unrelenting machine. Each drive sending you closer and closer to your peak as it plowed into your depths ravenously.

“Fuck, Chris. I can’t- I can’t hold it!” You called out, unsure if he’d allow you solace from the intense pressure blossoming in your belly.

You heard him moan at first but his command was solid. “Cum, Darlin’. Cum all you want tonight.”

Your body locked up tight, tipping over the blissful edge as you finally hit your peak with a hoarse scream. Sweat dripped off your body as your channel spasmed from the pleasurable assault.

Your heart echoed off your ribs as you came down from the exhilarating high, wincing when the dildo nudged against your cervix as your body sagged deeper into the comforter.

“Ok. Ok. I’m good.” You motioned to Chris to turn the machine off as it worked your sopping, sensitive depths at the same speed. You whimpered with every thrust; the sensations too powerful.

He smirked from his spot at the foot of the bed, gripping the base of his girth tight before taking a step forward and kneeling over you.

“I thought you’d want to try out one of your fantasies.” He traced a finger down your sweaty jaw before bringing the salty digit to his mouth. “You know… taking a cock from both ends.”

“Fuck.” Your belly twisted hard.

You let out a lewd moan at the thought of having your mouth stuffed along with your pussy. He was right. It was one of your biggest fantasies ever since you met him. He had the most suckable cock and your pussy longed to be spread every time you went down on him to quell the ache.

“Oh, is my Girl getting’ cold feet now?” He mocked, tapping his red, swollen crown against your lips. “Come on. Open that pretty mouth for me like you did your cunt.”

He bucked his hips forward, earning a surprised moan from you as it vibrated his length. He pressed the bulbous head past your lips with a grin, feeling your mouth instantly water.  

Your eyes rolled into your skull as he slid over your tongue was ease, nudging the back of your throat with a grunt. You felt fingers scratch at your scalp and a caramel like voice flood your ears.

“Thatta Girl, knew you’d love getting stuffed this way.”

You stretched your lips wide trying to accommodate his length as he pushed into your warmth. His hips thrusted steadily into your mouth matching the unrelating pace of the mechanical device between your legs.

It was so overwhelming. The incessant pounding from both ends was nonstop and you didn’t know which to focus on. Chris’s low grunts and the way he looked down at you with such an animalistic hunger made your heart stutter.

“You look so pretty like this.” His voice was calm and collected as he dug his fingers into your locks, “All spread out and ready for me to use however I want.”

The constant pressure in your belly boiled over so quickly you didn’t have time to give a warning as you let out a muffled shout around his cock, squirting your release all over the veiny dildo and the comforter below.

“Fuck. Love it when you can’t hold back. My wrecked, little cock slut.” He slapped your cheek with a harsh smack adding to the immense sensations, making your mind spin and your skin sizzle.

Your hands grasped his hips for purchase, needing something to ground you while your body quivered under his command.

His brows pinched with surprise when your hands cupped his sack and gripped the sensitive balls, giving them a light tug. His hold on your hair tightened severely, making you vibrate his length with a painful whine.

“Maybe I’ll text Seb… tell him to come over for some beers one night.” He suggested before holding steady at the back of your throat after a rather unforgiving thrust, halting your breathing with his thickness.

“Dress you up real pretty and let him fuck that filthy mouth of yours while I pound your pretty cunt.”

You sputtered then, choking around his girth at the thought of being used in such an obscene way. Your pussy spasmed around the relentless dildo as it forced you to the edge yet again.

“Do you think he’d fill your mouth as much as I do? I’d cum so hard seeing your throat bulge around his cock.”

The thought of having them both ravage your body, fucking into you with all their strength and loosening your holes made that tight coil in your belly snap. Your body shook heavily as you exploded around the machine for the 3rd time that night despite the lack of air.

“Fuck.” The lewd swear he gritted out barely registered as you floated in a foggy abyss, just on the edge of passing out.

You desperately sucked in a deep breath when Chris pulled his cock free from your lips, oxygen swarming your burning lungs and ramping up the intensity of the blissful onslaught as you let out a ragged scream into the bedroom.  

He laid your limp head onto the bed softly as you lazily blinked up at him with a glistening, spit covered chin.

“Lookin’ like I fucked you dumb, Darlin’.” He chuckled before mounting your face with a knee on either side. “Hold on just a bit longer, wanna see you choke on my cum.”

Chris angled his cock over your lips, hushing your pitiful whimpers as you welcomed his cock back into your mouth with a soft mewl.

He clenched his teeth, gripping the sheets hard as you swallowed around his length, tempting him to cum with every tilt of his hips.

He held your head steady with one hand as he fucked your skull into the mattress with heavy shoves, “Such a good girl lettin’ me do whatever I want.”

Your eyes fell shut and your core fluttered around the merciless dildo, knowing without a doubt you’d always let him do whatever he wanted. You were wrapped around his finger.

A stinging slap to your cheek and a gruff command of “Look at me” forced your teary eyes open.

“Think you can cum again? One more time for, Daddy?” His lips twisted into a sly grin knowing the term would do a number on you.

You yearned to groan aloud at him calling himself “Daddy”, but all that came out was a garbled, juicy mess as he stretched your lips wide. You felt a wave of pleasure ramping up even though your body was spent, so exhausted and overstimulated, but still, you couldn’t help the way your body bent to his will.

“Your cunt’s gonna be so tender tomorrow.” He drawled, out between groans, “So raw and used I might have to fuck that tight, little ass of yours.”

Knowing he would try to fit his thickness into your barely touched puckered rim made your body severely thrash as the impending orgasm crashed down hard. Your jaw went slack and your body drifted on a cloud of angelic pleasure that allowed Chris to prod your throat with his throbbing, angry crown.

He smacked your cheek making sure you were alert, “Gonna cum, my little Cock Slut. I want you to take it all.”

You felt his grip tighten on your numb scalp as he flooded your mouth with his seed. Grunting out a gravelly, “Fuck”, when he coated your tongue with white.

Automatically you swallowed, only to choke on the thick spend as it slowly slid down your throat causing your eyes to go wide.

“Swallow, Sweetheart. Swallow.” He commanded while hushing your frantic coughs when he slipped his cock from your lips.

He rubbed at your neck helping to ease down the copious amount of cum sticking to your windpipe as you swallowed for the final time.

You grasped his wrist suddenly, surprising him as he looked you over with worry watching as your face twisted in pleasurable agony when the machine made you cum for the 5th time tearing a guttural groan from your body.

“Oh, God. Please, no more, Daddy!” You begged at him with teary eyes.

“Fuck! Sorry, Sweetheart!” Chris thumbed the tiny remote quickly slowing the gears to a halt and finally turning it off.

Your breathing was labored but you licked at the drying spit/cum mixture from your lips lazily. You were so tired even the small act was draining.

Chris untied your thighs from the straps and carefully laid your legs straight out making you groan with discomfort. “I know, Sweetheart.” He said with a sorrowful sigh as he laid down next to you.

He cupped your chin turning you to face him, “Was it everything you wanted?”

You could tell he was worried, especially since he forgot to turn the machine off. With a soft smile, you tried to calm his worry, “More so. It was perfect. Thank you, Daddy.”

“'MARVEL'S AVENGERS' STAR, Y/N Y/L/N IS ATTACKED BY A CRAZY FAN AFTER LEAVING A RESTAURANT!”

“DISCONCERTING VIDEO OF A MAN PUNCHING HIS FAVORITE ACTRESS AFTER HARASSING HER. CLICK THE LINK BELOW.”

“EMMY NOMINEE, Y/N Y/L/N, SUFFERS MINOR INJURIES WHILE TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM AN AGGRESSOR.”

All captions said the same. The press, as always taking advantage of the misfortune of others to create gossip and gain followers and reads on their sites.

You shut the laptop and took your face in your hand.

It all started the day before, when you were waiting for a cab outside an overly expensive Thai place, after having a meeting with one of the most acclaimed thriller film directors to discuss a role he was offering you for his next project.

With the deal made and dessert finished, Mark, your manager, offered to take you home, but you declined his offer, telling him that you had to run some errands before. He left with the promise of calling you during the week.

The ringtone you set for your best friend sounded loudly in your back pocket. Answering her call, you covered your eyes from the sunlight.

“Hey, babe. How's it going?”

“I should be the one asking that, but given your apparent good mood, I think things went as planned.”

Raising your arm, you called for a taxi, but the driver ignored you. “It went better than planned! Not only did I get a role in the movie. I got the role in the movie. So, you better greet and bow to the new Mistress of the Underworld next time you see me!” Your voice went from arrogant to excited as you spoke, letting her know that you were joking.

“That's awesome, dude!” your friend exclaimed. “Damn, there'll be no way to get you out of your throne now.”

You fake laughed and asked, “Do I really have to get the drinks? I mean, it's me who we are celebrating.”

“Hey, your achievement, your liquor.”

“Hi. Are you Y/N/N?,” A guy you vaguely remembered having seen some times behind the security bars of different events shyly approached you. “Yes, you are! I love your movies. Can I… can we take… is it okay if…?” Phone in hand, he tried asking.

“Hold on a second, girl. I’m taking a photo with…” you didn't finish the sentence, waiting for the man to complete it.

“Oh uhm, Bern.”

“With Bern. I’ll be right back.”

“Do it fast, we gotta toast because you’re paying the bills again.”

“Shut up.” You giggled and then turned your attention to the red headed in front of you.

He was taller than you by a few inches. His green eyes, small, and his nose and cheekbones covered with hundreds of freckles. He seemed nice.

“So, how would you like the photo?” you asked as you fixed your perfectly combed hair. “Do you want us to pose or just a simple selfie?”

“A selfie is fine.” he stood beside you, close enough for both your faces to fit on the broken screen of his phone.

Raising your hand, you made a peace sign and gave your biggest smile to the camera. He clicked the button and it was done.

“Well, it was so nice seeing you, Bern but, I better get going. People are waiting for me.” You waved at him and turned to start walking, but he stopped you by taking your wrist.

“Can we repeat it? I don’t like how I look.” His insisting eyes, trying to convince you.

“Sure, why not?” Your friend was still on the line and you told her to wait for a little longer.

You got in position and showed your teeth once more, but your smile faltered when you felt his cold fingers touching your lower back from under your top.

"That hand.” You warned in a playful voice.

His touch disappeared, but the feeling was still there.

Once the photo was taken, you stepped away and shakingly said your goodbyes, in hopes of getting away from him as quickly as possible.

“No, wait! Let’s take another one!” His hand gripped your waist. “Just one more.”

“I'm gonna be late. My friends are--.”

He dragged you closer to him and you stepped on his feet accidentally, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes, big and sparkling.

“The lighting is not good.” He looked around. “Let’s go somewhere else to make it perfect.”

Fear ran down your body, the closeness of his face to yours, disturbing you to the point of wanting to start running.

“Please, let go of me.” Calm flew from your mouth, even though you were feeling the opposite.

“Not until we take another photo!” His tone was contundent, nothing like the one he used while asking for the first one.

“You’re hurting me!” A few people were passing by, only turning to see if you were really that actress they had seen somewhere, none of them knowing what was going on.

“You really want to leave me?” You pulled, intending to shake him off. “Then, leave.”

Instead of just freeing you, he shoved your arm. The unexpected force, bringing you to the ground on your side. Your whole weight, falling on your left hand.

Screaming in pain, you heard your friend calling for you asking if you were okay, while with teary eyes you saw Bern running away and a lot of curious people forming a circle around you.

“Hey girl, uhm,” You took your phone to your ear and brought your other hand to your chest. “I think I’m gonna be late for the party.”

After some X-rays, a movement test and a bunch of medical terms that you didn't understand, the doctor told you that you only had a slight sprain and that you'd only need to wear a wristband for two to three weeks, take some painkillers and anti-inflammatories, and avoid movement as much as possible.

Luckily, you were already done filming the second season of your series. Your only concern, the pre-production of the new movie that started in a couple of weeks.

Those events led you the next day, sitting in front of Mark’s desk, being given a speech of how you should be more careful while talking to fans.

“… And that's why I consider it appropriate for you to take an escort with you.”

“But I don’t need protection!” you yelled at your manager. “I can defend myself.”

“Yeah? How did that go yesterday?”

Licking your lips in exasperation, you tried to come up with a compelling argument so you could persuade him to put his crazy idea aside and let you be.

“Look, Mark, I’m just saying that I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Y/N, understand, I don’t want anything like that happening to you again. While that lunatic is still out there, you cannot go out alone."

“It was not a big deal. I don’t know why you’re all acting like he beat the hell out of me.”

“He could have.”

“But he didn’t!” You stood up and wandered around his office. “I’m tired of telling people that I can handle these kinds of situations just fine.”

“I don’t care what you think.” Pointing at the chair in front of him, he signaled for you to sit again, which you did recultanty. “I found a guy. He’s supposed to be the best of the best; good recommendations, excellent resumé, and an impressive knowledge of, what seems to be, martial arts." He said as he held an open folder. "Just... give it a chance, would you?" He handed you the folder. "If after a month you feel uncomfortable with someone following you around twenty four seven well, we'll find another solution."

You looked at the information printed in the piece of paper, not paying attention to it and sighed in defeat, throwing your head back. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Of course, you should have known better than to think that.

Two days later, Monday morning, during breakfast –or study time, as you usually called it, your doorbell rang.

Still in your pajamas, you went to open the door. A half empty bowl of fruit, held between your left forearm and ribs. Your hand, immovile, caught in the wristband.

Mark stood in front of you, looking as if someone had dropped ice cream in his favorite pair of shoes. Right eyebrow raised and lips pressed in a tight line. He was mad. At you, specifically. But it was not his expression what caught your attention. It was the man behind him; a hundred and eighty-two pounds of pure muscle and six feet of gorgeousness remained silent and still, wearing an immaculate black suit and showing no emotion in his handsome face.

“What did I tell you?” Mark asked as he showed you his phone. A picture of you and two other girls adorned the screen.

“I don’t know.” You took a grape from your plate and turned to walk to the living room again, both men, following you inside. “You’ve told me plenty of things since we met.”

The other man looked around unimpressed, hands behind his back and an analytic glint drawn on his pupils.

You dropped to the couch, taking the script and marker again to continue with your previous task.

“I specifically said that I didn’t want you to expose yourself by going out alone.” He sat on the coffee table. The other guy, rigid and impassable a few steps away. “And, what do you do? You decide to go for a walk, wave at paparazzis, give autographs and have long conversations with strangers in the street.”

“They’re not strangers.” You threw the script aside. “They’re my fans, and if it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.”

“One of those fans is the reason we’re having this conversation right now.” He inhaled deeply, as if it helped him calm down. “I’m not here to argue with you.” He stood up.

“Lucky me!” Your sarcasm had him shaking his head.

“I came to introduce you to the newest addition to your team.”

For some reason, you felt as if they had practiced that part, with the man walking in your direction and reaching out his hand to you the second Mark finished the sentence.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name’s Christopher and I'll be the one taking care of your safety.”

You eyed him up and down from your seat.

My safety. You thought, chuckling. He's way too cute not to be an actor… model, if not.

“Well, Chris, welcome aboard.” You shook his hand with your healthy one.

“I would appreciate it if you called me Christpher, if you don’t mind.” He straightened, the tone of his request calm, but firm.

“Sure, Chris.” He narrowed his eyes in discomfort but did nothing to correct you again.

With an eye roll, Mark moved to sit beside you and invited Christopher to have a seat as well.

“Let's start, shall we?” Your manager asked, putting out a notebook full of post-its. Your new shadow, doing the same.

You spent the rest of the day checking your activities for the next week, preparing security measures and a contingency plan, in case it was needed.

Your script reading, delayed until dinnertime.

The first two weeks were not as boring as you thought they'd be. Rumors of a certain actress dating a mysterious guy blew the internet as soon as he was spotted helping you get out of your car in the parking lot of a mall. Gossips about your love life, breaking social media when photos of you two carrying your shopping bags were published. Speculations regarding him moving in with you were heard the day he accidentally appeared in the back of a video you posted. All of them, dismissed during an interview, answering a question about the incident that caused it all.

Although you were having the time of your life, calling him "Chris" in every chance given, teasing him, he didn’t flinch even once.

The only problem you found was when it came to greeting people that approached you asking for a photo. Chris would create a barrier between you and your fans, and ask them to step back, scaring most of them. He took his job too seriously. That did not mean you didn’t manage to sneak out of his trained ocean eyes to get closer to them every now and then, getting on his nerves every single time.

Week three was here, which meant that you had run out of food, therefore you needed to go to the store to get some supplies for the rest of the month.

It was nine o’clock when the doorbell rang. Still in bed with eyes closed, you groaned in disbelief and covered your face with the blankets. It had been like that since his hiring became official… kind of. The first day, he arrived at six am with the excuse of needing to inspect your apartment to rule out possible access for intruders. Deep inside, you suspected it was his retribution for ignoring his wish of being called by his full name during your first reunion; The second day, he was at the door at seven, with the argument that his working hours started that early; On day three you decided to shorten his duty time by asking him to show up at ten thirty in the morning and gave him a key so he wouldn’t interrupt you with whatever you were doing.

Yet, he thought that it was better if he was there earlier in case an unexpected event arose. And if it was not enough, he clung to the idea that waiting to be invited in was the right thing to do.

The shrill sound echoed through the house again, making you want to disconnect it and knock him out with it. Instead, you got out of bed and with slow, heavy steps, went to open the door, leaving your robe and slippers behind. You gave up your efforts of looking presentable on day six.

Unlike you, with tangled hair, morning breathing and wrinkled pajamas, he was wide awake, prepared to start the day with his batteries fully charged.

“You know where the coffee is.” You let him in and closed the door behind him, knowing damn well that he didn't need a cup as much as you did. “I’ll be right back.”

Dragging your feet on the floor, you walked directly to the bathroom, not ready to say goodbye to the comfort and warmth of your bed and replace them for the awakening effect of a shower.

Your voice accompanied the music coming out of the radio on your way back to your apartment, hands playing simultaneously an imaginary guitar and the biggest air drum someone could imagine. Singing the guitar solo and shaking your head to the beat of the song from the passenger seat had Chis peeking at you, successfully hiding a smile behind a weary face.

Right when the chorus started, your stomach roared, ruining the moment and your performance in the process.

“We can go get you something to eat.” He suggested, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, I’m starving!” Unlocking your phone, you searched for a place nearby where you could have a pizza. “Bet you too.”

“I’m good.”

“I doubt that.” Clicking on the pin of a pizza and pasta restaurant, you said. “This morning you rejected my kind breakfast offer,” Sarcasm, coming out easily. You offered him a bowl of cereal with barely any cereal on it with no milk. “And I hadn’t seen you eat anything the whole day.”

“I’m good.” He repeated, shaking his head, putting the conversation to an end and turning right when you told him to.

There was no explanation. No apparent reason for it to happen the way it did. Maybe you had bad luck with food establishments, maybe you should resign to home deliveries and never step on a restaurant for the rest of your life.

Chris had parked a block away from the pizza place due to the lack of space in front of it, which meant that you had to walk a couple of meters to get there and then to your car when you were finished.

Halfway to your car, with Chris on your right facing forward, you felt a hand stopping you by your shoulder from behind and jumped in surprise, letting out a sight.

Faster than light, Chris placed himself between you and the stranger and with brute force, one of his fists collided with the guy’s stomach while the other pushed him back by the neck, sending him to the ground. You swore you saw him falling in slow motion.

“Oh, my God!” someone said. A bunch of teens quickly approached the scene.

Looking down, you saw a boy not older than nineteen, holding a napkin and a black marker.

No amount of words could describe how embarrassed you were, no amount of autographs you were to give could make you feel better.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You apologized to him and his friends, sending a deadly glare in Chris’ direction, who stood impassive as if it was nothing. “This won’t happen again, I swear.” You vividly imagined next day’s headline: “FAN IS SENT TO THE HOSPITAL WITH INTERNAL BLEEDING AFTER TRYING TO SAY HELLO TO Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t worry.” The guy on the floor said as you helped him stand up, his hand covering the side of his abdomen. “I read what happened to you, it’s good that you have backup.”

“What can I do to compensate you for this? I feel horrible.” Your concern, showing as you bit your lip.

“We can always take a photo and forget this happened?” He asked with a smile drawn on his lips, which made you relax your shoulders. The weight of guilt, slowly disappearing.

Taking a look at his friends, they all nodded in agreement and signed up for a photo themselves.

As punishment, you proposed that Chris took the photo this time to make up for the misunderstanding, making them all laugh. He didn’t like the idea but did it nevertheless after he decided that they were harmless.

You two would have a conversation as soon as you were alone.

“Are you crazy?” You had barely entered your apartment when you started with your lecture. “Why did you think that punching a fifteen year old was a good idea?!”

“I didn’t know he was fifteen.” he said, as composed as always.

“Exactly. You didn’t know.” You pointed your finger at him. “Because you didn’t stop to check who was ‘attacking’ me.”

Slapping the door closed, you marched to the living room, willing to start an unlikely discussion.

“He shouldn’t have touched you in the first place.” He left the bags in the aisle of the kitchen. “I was just doing my job.”

The coolness of his statement sent you over the edge.

“Attacking people is not your job!”

“And, what exactly is my job, then?” The tranquility with which he had handled himself up to that moment fading little by little. “You have treated me as your assistant all this time. I am not here to do your grocery shopping, I am here to protect you!” He yelled at you, His anger and frustration, evident. Until now, you were not sure if he was able to show any sort of emotion.

“How many times do I have to say that I don’t need protection?” You yelled back.

“If so, why am I here?”

“You, my friend,” Shortening the distance, you poked his chest with your index finger. “Are here because my manager is a paranoiac grandpa who believes I’m too naive to put my trust in everyone.”

“In everyone but me.”

“I. Don't. Need. To. Trust. You.” You added force to your touches with each word.

“Stop it.” He said, taking your hand in his.

“What? Can’t stand a girl telling you that she doesn’t need you to be her knight in shiny armor?” With your other hand, you resumed your poking, with less force thanks to the pain it caused you.

“I’m serious.” He caught your other hand, making you whine in an ache.

“Yeah, me too.” You got closer to his face. “Go terrify teenagers elsewhere.”

Attempting to step away from him in a dramatic way, you pulled your arms down, not giving a damn if it hurted, but he didn't let go. Instead, he held you with more strength. You did it again but ended up with the same result. The only one thing you thought would set you free, spitting from your mouth like poison: “You're fired.”

He tilted his head, contemplating if you were kidding or not. When he decided that you weren’t, he huffed. A dry and somber action that sent chills down your spine.

“You don’t get to decide that.” His hold on your wrists relaxed, giving you the opportunity to step away.

“No, I don’t. But I’m calling Mark to tell him that this,” You gestured circles with your hands. “Didn’t work.”

One second you were reaching for the phone and the second, being slammed against the wall next to the couch by Chris, whose right hand was firmly placed in your throat. The amused look on his face and his head shake, had you voiceless.

“You really are a pain in the ass.” he affirmed. His face was so close to yours that you could count the hairs of his beard if you wanted to, see the almost imperceptible tint of green in his eyes, kiss his plump lips if he just leaned enough…

His eyes explored your face, absorbing every inch of it, learning your features, like trying to memorize them. When you parted your lips to exhale and your breath hit his face, he closed his eyes. His long lashes brushing softly above his cheekbones and his bicep, looking more prominent under his tight ironed black shirt, thanks to the growth on strength of his grip.

“What are you doing?” The tremble of your voice brought his gaze to you once again. The way you practically moaned the question, had his cook twitching under his trousers.

“When I accepted Mark’s offer to work with you, I did not expect you to be as difficult as he described you.” The sides of his thumb and index finger dug in your jaw, forcing your head up and the rest of your body to be supported by your tiptoes. “I thought I’d be able to do my job as I’ve been doing it all these years but you had to make it complicated, hadn’t you?”

You wanted to answer him, oh, how much you wanted to give him a smart comeback to lower his guard, but given the predicament you were in, with your back flat against a cold wall and your panties damped for an inexplicable reason, you decided to wait for the perfect moment to do it.

With his other hand, he removed an unruly lock of hair that covered your face, tucking it behind your ear. The gesture felt so sweet, so intimate that you almost forgot what his other hand was doing.

“Being close to you has been torture.” The ghost of his words grazed your face. “Watching you roaming around in nothing but those extremely thin pajamas of yours, listening to you sing while taking a shower,” His lips made contact with your cheek ever so slightly that you wanted to move forward to feel it again, something impossible at the moment. “Having to put up with all those hormonal high schoolers undressing you with their eyes and standing there as if it didn’t affect me.”

“Are you saying that you find it offensive?” Collecting all the lucidity you had left, you asked. “Or that you also want to undress me?”

He smirked. An incredulous smile adorning his charming appearance.

The fingers of his left hand drew your collarbone, passed over the hem of your sundress and stopped above its first button.

“I think the answer to that is obvious by now.”

He was still keeping you glued to the wall with his big hand wrapped around you. Not that you were to move an inch if he wasn’t.

“And, what are you waiting for?”

For the second time during your discussion, he analyzed you, looking for any mockery or sarcasm –since it came natural to you. What he found this time, surprised him, pleased him; the words desire and hunger were written all over you. Not a bit of disgust or discomfort about his grip on you was visible. And it clicked to him. You liked it. It was the reason why you hadn't tried to escape or push him away.

Sadly for you, his hand left your hot flesh to get at the neckline of your dress, taking the piece of fabric in between his fingers, as well as with his other hand.

In the blink of an eye, he pulled, ripping the buttons from their seams and making them fly all over the place, leaving your dress open and hanging from your shoulders as if it were a cape, displaying your almost naked body to his view. You were not wearing a bra, but it was not a surprise, he had been purposely looking up and away from you the whole day. Your underwear was not so different whatsoever, the smallest thong he had ever seen was kept in place by two thin threads hugging your hips. It was not difficult for him to get rid of it, putting it on his pocket.

Not wanting to stay like that forever, you reached for his belt, willing to undo it with shaky, slow fingers since your wrist still hurted. As you did so, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere near the dining table.

He was tattooed; an eagle was drawn on the right side of his chest while a legend was written in the left, various pieces adorned the upper part of his arms and some others were scattered around his abdomen, a bigger one was visible near his v line. You felt the urge of licking every single one of them, recreating the patterns which the artists probably used to ink him.

“Like what you see?” He asked. Having had your mouth opened, you would have most likely been drooling.

“I think the answer is obvious.”

He took your face with both his hands and stamped his lips to yours in a heated kiss. It was all tongues and teeth, your faces moving in different angles to have better access to each other’s mouths. His beard scratched your cheeks, tickled you, but you barely registered that, too immersed in the battle of dominance your tongues were fighting.

For a second, you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing, but resumed their task after his went to your now ruined dress and slipped it down your arms.

Pulling down his pants you ended the kiss to gather some needed oxygen. Looking down, you saw his length had formed a tent in his boxers and you throbbed.

“Is it too late to say that this is utterly unprofessional from you?” your breathless question was just finished when he dug his fingers on your neck again, spun and threw you to the couch with enough force to move it minimally.

“It is.” He climbed on top of you, opening your legs with one hand and keeping himself up with the other, holding onto the back of the couch. At some point, he found the opportunity to take off his remaining piece of cloth.

His cock stood proud resting against his lower belly, its red tip, already leaking with precum. The sight of it, of all of him, had your hips jolting forward, searching for that which would end the torment you were being a prisoner of. You closed your eyes, attempting to compose yourself and don't seem too eager to be one with him.

You were soaked. Your arousal going down your ass and wetting the surface of the couch.

“Well, I think--” He cut you out in the middle of a sassy comment. “Shit! Chris!” You screamed when he shoved inside of you with no warning. His hips, stopping when he bottomed out, not precisely to let you adjust to his size. Your hands, flying back to hold onto the arm of the couch, your left wrist, complaining in pain as you bent it.

“Say it again.” the hand that held your waist, now was on your throat, tightening its grip once more. “It’s been driving me crazy this whole time.”

Suppressing the need to remind him all those times he told you not to call him that, too afraid of letting out a whimper, you obeyed, repeating his name like a prayer, wishing that he started moving.

He did. Slow. Agonizingly slow.

With each unhurried thrust you wanted to drag him down hard, but him, having the back of your head buried in the soft material of your couch, made it impossible.

“Isn’t it funny?” He looked down at you. “How you wouldn’t forgive me for kicking the air out of someone but would beg me to do exactly that to you?”

His fingers squeezed your flesh, making you whine.

You swallowed, the difficulty of it evident for both of you. “I didn’t beg.” Your raspy voice came out as a whisper, but he listened. Of course he did.

Fire came out of his eyes, an almost primal groan left his lips right before his hips started moving back and forth with an animalistic determination.

“Oh, God!” you moaned.

“Do you have any idea of how frustrated I felt every time I caught you running away from my side to risk yourself getting hurt again?” His peace was ruthless, the slapping sounds of his hips colliding with the back of your thighs, getting louder as well as your cries, filling your ears in the most sinful way. “How useless I thought I was when my most important task was to hold the door open for you?” The vein in the side of his neck was more visible than usual, popping up due to the effort to which he was subjected. “How I felt like garbage when you saw me as if I was a monster for doing precisely what I get paid to do?”

He sounded hurt, brutally honest and it made your heart sink. The contrast between his words and movements, lighting a dilemma in your head. You were not going to justify yourself for what you did, but you also felt like he deserved an apology for putting up with your shit. After all, it was not his fault, he was just following orders.

Too lost in your thoughts and pleasure, you didn’t notice his hand had left the couch to find your clit. Only when he applied pressure, rubbing fast circles, did you decide to enjoy what he was giving to you and to feel bad for your recklessness and childish behavior later.

“Please, keep going!” high pitched pleads fell from you as your hands abandoned the soft material of the couch and gripped on Chris’ wrist.

“Are you being nice now?” He somehow managed to fasten his assault, causing your breasts to bounce up everytime his pubic bone hit you and raising the sound of your squeals. “Let’s see how nice you can cum.”

Every time he pushed inside, you saw from the corner of your eye the painting hanging in the wall moving away. Or, was it the couch what was moving? At this point, you didn’t mind. You only cared about the immeasurable pleasure Chris was giving you and the knot forming in your stomach, telling you that you were close to your release.

“I’m--” You tried announcing but a particularly deep shove stopped you.

“Me too.” He inhumanly doubled his efforts rubbing your bud with two fingers and tightening his other hand around you, nearly having you seeing stars without pausing his thrusts.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me.” The term he used, snapped the coil inside of you, bringing you to the strongest and more powerful orgasm of your life with a raw scream that came from the top of your lungs. He could feel your fast pulse coming back to normal.

Squirming under him and clenching your spasmic walls around his still hard cock, you heard him curse. His hips faltered and he twitched inside of you.

Throwing his head back, he kept moving, reaching his own climax, something your over sensitive body resented.

“Chris…” moaning his name was all it took for him to paint your insides with his hot seed.

Both of you were out of breath and covered with a thin layer of sweat, and while he looked like the personification of a greek god, you imagined your appearance was not so different from when you got out of bed, with your hair a mess and your voice raspy –only, for a whole other reason this time. Yet, he looked at you as if you had been hours in front of a mirror, getting ready for a red carpet.

Still buried inside of you, Chris took you by the waist and moved to the side, laying on the couch, putting an arm behind your shoulders, hugging you to keep you from falling, and placing one of your legs on top of his thigh to be more comfortable.

The white mark of his hand was slowly fading from your skin and he explored it with his fingertips, making sure that he didn’t hurt you for real.

“You’re still fired.”

He laughed at that. Genuinely laughed. It had been the first time since you met him that you heard him laugh. And for some reason, you didn’t want it to be the last.

He took your injured hand and interviewed his fingers with yours.