My Bodyguard Hates Me

My Bodyguard Hates Me

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 44m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Dec 10, 2018
"So when are we getting to this so-called 'safe' place." I ask his stone faced ass. I'm just trying to get a little conversation going. It is to quiet. The only thing I hear is the car engine and our- well my breathing. His quiet ass. I mean he won't even turn the radio on. Who does that!?! Since he isn't gonna talk to me I might as well get comfortable. I lean my seat back and put my feet up on the dashboard. Luckily I had painted my toes the day before. "Get your feet down now." I look at him stunned. "Now you wanna talk." Being the stubborn person I am I keep my feet up. He swerves the car to the side of the road so quickly I bang my head against the window. "Oww!" I complain. I'm probably gonna have a concussion now. He turns toward me with such a hateful look I flinch. "Get your fucking feet down now or I will cut your pinky toes off and grill them." My feet are back in their shoes in record time. He pulls back on the road then. "At least my feet don't stink."
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I have been following him for months and I practically know everything about him. He wakes up at 6am and goes for his morning run at 6.15am, he usually runs for 45 mins. He has breakfast at 7.20 am (he probably takes his bath at 7.05am. Oh, what I would give to watch him take a shower). He drives his pale turquoise blue Aston Martin rapide E to his workplace at 7.30am. He stops to grab a cup of cappuccino with two shots of expresso and a muffin from coffee and more. He arrives at work at 8am. He owns the largest publishing company in town and his office is on the fourth floor, a mile away from the elevator to the left. His favorite color is beige, his favorite food is rib eye steak ( and I don't even consider that food). His favorite movie is the sound of music ( not a perfect fit for an extremely sexy man), he also likes Jazz( who likes jazz these days??).

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