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He led me to the master bedroom. In it, a large TV screen emerged on a remote from a cabinet at the foot of the bed. Warwick put on a romantic comedy, and we sat back against a mountain of fluffy pillows. I sipped the wine and stole glances at the hunk of a man beside me. Warwick stood suddenly and undid his pants. Was he about to seduce me? My pulse quickened, hoping that’s what he had in mind. I was saddened when he sat back down on his side of the bed and took a swig of his wine.
My crotch tingled as I side glanced at him. The blanket covered his groin, but I’d caught a glimpse of his package, clad in tight boxer briefs, before he sat down. It looked huge!
The wine hit me hard as I drank it and tried to focus on anything but the massive cock next to me. Warwick poured me some more and snuggled deeper into the covers. Before long, I had a warm buzz everywhere in my body. Emboldened by the drink, I inched over toward him. If he wasn’t going to seduce me, then maybe I would seduce him.
I put my arms around him. Warwick looked at me, surprised. His eyes seemed to plead with me, but I was too dopey from the wine to understand what they were saying.
“You’re so handsome,” I slurred. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done.”
He stroked my face gently in response. I slid my hand down his muscular pecks and stopped right at the top of his underwear. Warwick’s eyes registered confusion and then regret of some kind as he slowly reached for my hand and moved it off his taut body.
“You’re drunk, baby girl. You know I can’t,” he said. “You’ve had a rough day. We both have. Let’s sleep it off and talk in the morning.”
“You saved my life,” I said. The events of the day ran through my addled brain at warp speed. What would have happened if Warwick hadn’t taken the shot or if he hadn’t hit the man? I watched as my brain replayed it the other way, with Warwick not being there to save me. My skin broke out in goosebumps as I saw myself getting shot and slumping over. I would have been killed today for sure. I shivered slightly and then the shiver turned to uncontrollable shakes. I withdrew from Warwick, still terrified by the vision. Tears that I didn’t even know existed streamed down my face and my muscles felt out of control as if the shaking was happening all on its own, against my will.
Warwick pulled me to him and wrapped his strong arms around me. I shivered and sobbed against his muscles for what felt like an eternity. When the sobs finally subsided, I slumped against him, spent and beyond exhausted.
“You’re going to be okay,” Warwick said quietly. His gravelly voice was comforting.
“How?” I asked. How was I going to be okay? I’d be a hunted woman for the rest of my life if I couldn’t figure out a way to fix this.
“I don’t know tonight. But I do know you will be,” Warwick replied. “I promise you. I’m with you. I could have left you there, but I do know right from wrong. I’m not like the rest of my family. When I picked you up, I knew I’d have to figure this out with you. So we will. Together. I promise. But for tonight, let’s enjoy the wine and sleep if we can,” Warwick finished.
I nodded and wrapped my arms tighter around his firm torso. He felt safe to me, comforting. I listened to his heartbeat, lost in my miserable thoughts for a long time. He sat next to me, a firm rock, watching his movie. His arm was around me casually, the way a best friend comforts their comrade.
“Thank you,” I said sleepily into his smooth chest. I wanted to reach down again into his underwear and stroke his manhood into a hard shaft that I could ride and connect with, but I didn’t. He’d already made it clear he wasn’t interested. Instead, I listened to his heart and closed my eyes against the intrusive memories and fear from the day.
And that’s the last thing I remembered before I fell into a peaceful slumber.
I woke up the next afternoon unsure of what had transpired. I was clad in only my bra and panties. Warwick was out of bed and in the shower by the time I rose. Had I had sex with this handsome specimen and been too drunk to remember it? I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t sure. My crotch pulsed with desire when I thought about Warwick almost naked. His taught abs and muscular arms, his cock and balls covered by the tight-fitting thin cloth. I remembered bits from our time together, my head on his chest and arm around me, soothing me. I tried to play the evening over in my head, but most of it was a tired blur of confusion, shock, and alcohol.
I jumped out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. I wanted to use this pent-up energy for something other than ruminating about my good-looking rescuer.
I plated bacon, eggs, and hash browns and was just browning the bread when Warwick emerged, freshly showered. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and was shirtless. On his left pectoral muscle was a hummingbird tattoo, and on the right one was a massive skull. I’d had my head resting on them last night, yet I didn’t remember them at all.
I must have been drunk.But with a body like that, who could pay attention to the small details?
I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it.
“Wow, that’s quite the dichotomy in tattoos you have there,” I said, giggling.
“Yeah,” Warwick nodded. “The hummingbird represents my life before Pauly and the skull after. I’m going to get a phoenix on my back to represent me, present day,” he finished.
“That’s so cool,” I said. My crotch felt wet as I pretended to scrutinize the tattoos. “I’d better get dressed,” I added, glancing down at my bra and panties from the night before. I thought I’d have time to cook first,” I concluded. “Apparently, I was wrong.”
I hurried from the room, certain Warwick could see the wet stain my active pussy made on my boy-short underwear. I pulled a shirt and shorts on and returned, eager to serve him breakfast.
“This is great,” he said in appreciation. “Thank you! Maria won’t be here till this afternoon.”
“I know. It’s the least I could do.”
I trained my eyes on my plate, careful not to stare too hard at him. My insides danced and pulsed in a way I had never felt before meeting Warwick. Sure, I’d been turned on before by men, but not one as delicious or as naked as he was.
After the dishes were cleared, I excused myself and went to the shower. As soon as I stripped my clothes off and was safely under the rainfall shower, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I was alone for a few minutes to relieve some of the pressure. It turned out the handheld shower did just the trick. I turned it on the pulse and guided it around my swollen clit, slowly at first and gradually gaining momentum. In my mind, I pictured Warwick’s cock, erect and ready to be pushed into my tight, wet vagina. I moaned quietly as the image grew. I stared into his deep eyes as he penetrated me, his soft lips brushed against mine. My daydream turned more aggressive the closer I got to my climax. Warwick grabbed me and pinned me to the bed as I imagined his lust as his orgasm built. His cock was inside me, all the way to the hilt in my mind’s eye, and his balls slapped at my ass hard.
“Oh god, make me come,” imaginary Warwick gasped as I exploded all over the shower stall.
I lay on the shower floor and panted as the water poured over me. My clit pulsed with happiness, and I felt giddy inside. What would it feel like to fuck a man as perfect as Warwick? I had no idea. I’d never been much of a dater, preferring to hide and read books or bake to going out and meeting boys my age. Besides, dating is not fun when your dad is the head of a well-known Mafia family. That tended to deter the regular boys and forced me to stay within our small circle of families connected to organized crime. And there was no one worth dating in that circle as far as I was concerned so I never did. I wanted to date now, however, and Warwick was the man I craved.
