KT had a smoking hot security guy always at the ready. He was the strong, silent type, a former Marine, and a crack shot. He had the body of a Greek sculpture and had been with Kennedy for quite some time. He watched her like a hawk and trusted no one who came near her. Kennedy knew she could get away with almost anything when it came to her bodyguard, and she pushed the limits on a daily basis. She also had erotic fantasies about him. Maybe it was the uniform, or more specifically, the way he filled it out. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted him. She once thought about shifting into witch-mode and tying him to the bed. She could have her way with him and he wouldn’t be able to fight her off. She would have the upper hand. As if reading her thoughts, Truman shook his head. “No, Kennedy. Marcus is off limits,” he had said sternly.
“You don’t know that,” she whined.
“Enough!” he shouted, and fortunately she dropped the subject. Truman was a little bit afraid of Kennedy, though he knew he dare not show it… ever.
Truman was Kennedy’s personal assistant, teacher, baby-sitter, and too often, reverse pimp. Kennedy was a precocious minx of a witch, and men loved her. She had big, bedroom eyes and used them to her advantage. She was the biggest flirt on the planet and thought she could have any man she wanted, which she could, fairly or by other means. So when her flirting went a little too far, it was Truman’s job to rein her in before some man tried to kidnap her and hide her away on his fancy yacht. The poor slob wouldn’t have known what hit him when he found himself grasping onto the nearest rock or shrub just to stay alive after Kennedy dumped his tired body into the ocean.
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