Guarding Her Body
He thinks I’m his. He thinks I was made for him. Made to please him. Made to follow his orders.
I gulp as he towers over me.
I think he’s right.
A whole lot happened at my first concert.
I snuck backstage. Met the band.
But when the lead singer made some unwanted moves, his rough and mean bodyguard stepped in and decided to protect me instead.
Now I have a huge obsessive alpha male throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me up to the top of the jumbotron where we can finally be alone.
Just me, him, and twenty thousand people below us as he claims what he keeps saying is his.
I shouldn’t want my first time to be like this.
In public with a rough gorilla of a man who seems to have a soft spot for me.
But there’s something about the way he uses those hands that will have me screaming ‘encore.’