Bound: The Seduction of the Futa’s Bodyguard

The first thing Rian noticed about Isabelle was how gorgeous she was. Dark eyes, willowy curves, hair like rich chocolate, and milky skin that the blonde would bet never tanned. Full lips with a scar, or perhaps it was a birthmark, etched into the top left corner of her upper lip only added to her beauty. A stark contrast to Rian herself. But the second thing she noticed was that Isabelle was definitely stubborn. Stubborn, stuck-up, and quite frankly -- a bit bitchy.

They would not get along.

When Rian had been investigating Stephan De Niro while she was still a cop, she'd been aware of his wife, but the cop in her was like a dog with a bone, focused only on what was pertinent to the case. And Isabelle had seemed like window dressing. A pretty armpiece his friends could envy him for. Younger than Stephan by at least twelve years, the entire relationship and subsequent wedding had seemed cliché. Isabelle needed money, and Stephan was all too willing to share it with a pretty woman.

But as Isabelle argued rather heatedly with Dani in another room, voice rising with every syllable, Rian wondered if she'd been wrong. Clearly, the woman had a temper, but in the end there was nothing she could do against Dani's determination. While Rian despised the casino owner, she had to admit that Dani did whatever it took to protect those she cared about.

After a sulky silence, during which Rian hadn't endeared herself by putting out Isabelle's boy toy, Isabelle had begrudgingly shown the blonde to her room with a warning not to get too comfortable.

The place was swanky. A bona fide estate, more than a home. But it didn't take the bodyguard long to find her way around, and she checked the perimeter and security cameras. Slipped into Stephan’s office and looked around, though she hadn’t had a chance to finish once she heard the telltale signs of stilettos announcing Isabelle’s approach. But she had a feeling if there was something to give any leads on what had happened to him, that was where she should start.

By day three, she knew all the staff by name and learned that Isabelle enjoyed testing her patience.

"I don't understand why Elias can't be here," the widow said, hands on her sumptuous hips.

Rian had been doing her best not to stare, but she wasn't sure if Isabelle was wearing the dress or if the dress was wearing her. It fit like a second skin, deep red like blood, and dipped so low in the cleavage that one wrong move and she'd show off a little more breast than was appropriate.

Needless to say, this did nothing to help Rian's arousal. She hadn't even gotten herself off after Dani had interrupted her one-night stand in the club, and the pent up frustration was making her short-tempered.

"Because right now there's someone out there who wants you dead, so it's best to limit who comes and goes..." Rian said through her teeth as she cleaned her gun.

"Elias wouldn't hurt a fly, and he's certainly had more than enough opportunities to kill me if he was going to." Isabelle scoffed.

"I imagine so with all the vulnerable positions he's had you in." Rian snapped, pleased to see Isabelle flush almost as red as her dress. "Why don't you just get a vibrator and chill out?"

"A vi-- you asshole! Fuck this. If he can't come to me, I'll go to him," Isabelle said, snatching her purse. The heels of her stilettos stabbing the marble floor as she headed towards the door, but Rian was faster and rose to bar her way in several swift strides.

"Miss Stone, get out of my way." Isabelle said, voice low in warning of an impending storm.

"Nah, can't do that." Rian said, her own voice firm. Though, the sound of her name spoken with such spite filled her with an odd sense of heat. “Jesus, did you even like your husband? Barely cold in the grave and you’re already banging some other guy.”

"How fucking dare you. You don’t know anything about me. I loved Stephan.”

“Sure you did,” Rian said. 

“In my own way, I did. Just as he loved me in his own way. And you have no idea what went on in our marriage.”

She said the words with such conviction that Rian actually believed her, though she had to wonder if Stephan had known about Isabelle’s little boy toy, or if the two had an open marriage. Swingers or something. Didn’t really matter now…unless that was what had actually gotten him killed.

Jilted lover that wanted more? 

Do you really think you can keep me prisoner here?"

Rian shrugged. "Prisoner is a strong word. We're currently standing in a mansion. But, if you insist, yes, until there's at least a lead on who's out to get you, any unnecessary excursions are prohibited. Including dick appointments."

"You're fired!" Isabelle hissed, eyes dark with undisguised rage.

"Cute, but you didn't hire me. I work for Dani, not you. And Dani's instructions were explicit. Keep you safe, no matter what I have to do."

The calmness of Rian's voice only seemed to infuriate the young widow further. So much so that her sneering lips -painted the same shade as her dress- twitched as she took a step so close that the blonde could feel the heat radiating off of her body, and the scent of her expensive perfume.

"I'm going to tell you one more time... Get. Out. Of. My. Way."

Rian dared to lean closer, a smirk forming as she whispered, "Or. What?"

Isabelle raised her hand, fully intending to slap her, but instinct kicked in. Rian caught her hand, grasping it at the wrist as she turned Isabelle around to press her front first against the stucco wall with the same arm pressed to the small of her back.

Rian liked the gasp that escaped the widow's lips, just as much as she liked the way Isabelle felt against her as the bodyguard pressed her body against that amazing ass.

"Let me go," Isabelle growled through clenched teeth.

"Not until we have an understanding of who's in charge," Rian purred against her ear before moving back to turn her around so that they faced each other. A mistake on her part, because she was confronted with Isabelle's beauty and the luscious curves of those pale breasts with nipples erect and straining . Her aquamarine eyes fell to take in the sight of them, rising and falling with ragged breaths, before flickering to the temptation of Isabelle's full lips.

Good God, it was suddenly difficult to think.

She returned her gaze to Isabelle's dark eyes, and what she saw there made her pause. Anger, sure. Surprise at being manhandled, definitely. But arousal seemed to eclipse both and before Rian could think twice about it, she leaned forward and captured Isabelle's lips.

To her surprise, Isabelle met her hunger with that of her own. And there was something so hot about the fact that they couldn’t stand each other that made it even better. Rian’s pent up need poured out as her body pressed more insistently against Isabelle’s,  lips smearing the dark haired widow’s lipstick all over her mouth, Isabelle’s chin, and her neck as Rian’s mouth explored. 

Isabelle thrust her chest forward and Rian happily obliged, moving the scant fabric out of the way to capture breast and nipple simultaneously to suckle. 

“Oh fuck,” Isabelle gasped, fingers grasping Rian’s hair, and from the tugging and pushing, it seemed she couldn’t decide whether she wanted Rian to continue further down or push her away. “We can’t do this.”

While the blonde was inclined to agree, she wasn’t really thinking clearly at that moment, and in her mind the reward far outweighed the risk. 

Besides, if this kept Isabelle from leaving the house, who was it really hurting?

The voice in the back of her head, as Isabelle pulled her up for starving kisses once more, told her it could be hurting Isabelle if she ever found out who Rian actually was. 

What she’d done. 

But it was easy to drown that voice as Isabelle reversed their positions, pushing Rian back against the wall as she pressed needily against her. 

And was that. . .?

Through the lust filled haze of her thoughts she was aware of a bulging hardness against her thigh and reaching down, she dared to hope. But just as her hand made contact, Isabelle drew away. 

God above, she looked sexy as hell with her thick hair mussed, lips kiss swollen and smeared with lipstick, eyes dark as the night and wild with desire…and fear. 

“I don’t like you,” she spat.

Despite Rian’s one track mind, she figured they could agree on that much.

“I don’t like you either, but it feels like that doesn’t really matter much right now, you know,” Rian quipped, her voice rough and breathless with heated yearning. “Look…if this is about…”

“Don’t say it,” Isabelle snapped, her cheeks flushed.

“I don’t fucking care. You’re a pain in my ass and stubborn as fuck, but you’re also sexy as hell and I don’t care if you’ve got a cock or what… I’m horny, you’re clearly horny… I don’t see what the fuckin’ problem is, if I’m honest.”

Isabelle’s lashes fluttered and for a split second there was a moment of vulnerability on her features that Rian had never seen. Vulnerability and uncertainty. It did something to Rian’s heart that she did not like.

Sex was one thing. Emotions were completely different. 

Moving towards Isabelle, she captured the widow’s chin and her lips, drawing a guttural moan from them both as Isabelle’s fingers tore at her button down. 

Good thing she’d never liked that shirt…

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