He passed through the living room, and the pool was visible from the glass doors.
He went straight to the bedroom where he had given Beatrice permission to sleep. Even though he knew it was a terrible, terrible idea, he’d set her up in the bedroom right next to his.
The door was open, and he could see the outline of her slender figure in the bed.
He walked in until his knees almost touched the frame.
Moonlight streamed in through the glass doors that dominated one side of the room and bathed the sleeping girl in an angelic glow. Her face was facing away from him, but her back rose and fell with gentle, steady motions.
His eyes fell to her dark-colored panties, he then noticed the socks that came all the way up to her knees and a t-shirt that rode up high to expose her lower back and the curve of her waist.
Her skin was creamy and pale in the nighttime glow. Her blonde hair was tangled around her like golden vines even in the dim light.
She was a vision of innocence… and temptation.
And damned if Zion was not confronted yet again with how much he wanted to fuck his best friend's daughter.
He turned and walked away from her, limping from how hard his erection hurt.
At 7 a.m., Zion was lying in his bed wide awake.
For a man who usually slept in past noon, this was highly unusual.
He hadn’t slept a wink since he’d come in.
After he’d left the guest room, he downed a shot of whiskey washed himself off under an ice cold shower. Neither whiskey nor near-freezing water had done a thing to ease his discomfort.
He couldn't get to sleep. No matter how hard he tried, his stiffy kept on throbbing, threatening to pop the seams of his black silk boxers. All for Beatrice.
Hearing Beatrice move about just beyond the confines of the master bedroom did little help his discomfort.
Zion has always a selfish bastard.
He was the first to admit it.
Whatever he wanted, he did everything within his power to get. It wasn’t often that he restrained himself and even rarer that he didn’t get what he wanted.
And right now, he wanted to fuck Beatrice.
Badly.
His need to fuck her is what made him leave the farm a lot sooner than he’d intended to. He even felt a bit guilty when he thought about all the shocking things he’d exposed her to during his stay.
But she was his best friend's daughter and inexperienced.
Zion would never disrespect the man by tainting his clearly innocent little girl with his filthy ways.
Even Zion had boundaries, as few as they were.
Out of loyalty to his best friend, he would try to be a good uncle even though he wanted to fuck the little seductress's brains more than anything in the world.
I can do this! He gave a determined nod of his chin.
After all, Beatrice would only be staying a few days.
Chapter 7
Puffy puff
Beatrice was not happy.
It was her second day staying with Zion, and things were not going as expected.
It was late afternoon, and she was casually dressed. Her flip-flops lighted sounded against the hardwood as she paced up and down the living room.
Zion was acting strangely. He was acting… normal.
He was treating her like she was made of precious crystal. With respect and kindness, for goodness sake!
Exasperated, she grabbed hold of the air as if to choke Zion’s neck.
She wanted him to treat her like all the other women he banged so wantonly.
She wanted him to use her as his own personal toy. To flick his serpentine tongue all across her. To spear her deep with his massive cock. To pump her full of semen. To leave her utterly destroyed by the experience.
But no, he was treating her like his little niece who had just stopped by to visit.
Unlike the first day when she’d shown up and caught him in a state of undress, he now walked around the house fully clothed. He woke up early and made her breakfast most mornings. He said “please” and “thank you” and bit his tongue to stop using curse words. He made sure she was comfortable and entertained. He even went as far as to have his personal assistant arrange tours of the sights of the city for her.
When he was not busy being a perfect gentleman, he was nowhere to be found, and she spent far too much of her time wandering around his big house with no purpose.
She wanted to rip her hair out!
This was not what she’d imagined living with him would have been like. She’d expected to find him walking around naked, having wild orgies every night and sleeping in till mid-afternoon.
She’d expected him to throw her on her back and have his way with her for no other reason than her being female and available.
He seemed to have a hard-on for anything female that moved when he’d stayed in her place on the farm.
Getting him to fuck her should have been easy.
With a humongous sigh, Beatrice flopped onto a white couch and puffed her hair out of her face.
It looked like it was not going easy as she thought to get him to pop her cherry.
The girl was, however, determined.
She was going to get Zion to fuck her. No matter what.
Chapter 8
Come over to my place
Beatrice's promise to stay “just a few days” had turned into a full week, and Zion had was going insane.
The goody-two-shoes act was not his style and had gotten old real fast.
His cock was unhappy with him, and he walked around all day with a painful hard-on.
And for what? He asked himself.
To prevent this little girl from feeling uncomfortable?
Bullshit!
She was the one who came to his home uninvited. Why should he be the one inconvenienced?
He steamed as he paced the length of his bedroom.
The glass doors were open but not even the chilly midnight air could cool his ire.
Women were pretty much all the same. Whether they admitted it or not, women just wanted a good time. Zion gave women what they needed and, in return, he got his and moved on. Simple.
Beatrice was a different story.
Sometimes he caught her looking at him with such intense desire that it was a mammoth exercise in self-control to keep from pouncing on her.
Other times, she turned as cold as the Arctic with her bitchy responses and upturned nose.
He didn’t know what to make of her, and he didn’t like this state of confusion at all.
She was messing with his sanity, and he could not allow this situation to continue.
He was who he was. Trying to suppress his beastly nature was the dumbest idea he’d ever had.
And so he decided to quit repressing himself. Oh, he’d still keep his hands off his best friend's daughter, but the good guy act was over. He was going to call a woman over and fuck her in his own house. His house, his rules. Beatrice be damned.
Besides, Beatrice was sensitive and easily triggered. Him reverting his old ways would probably send teenage girl packing. Mission accomplished.
He grabbed his phone to scroll through his contacts and pulled up a woman’s number at random.
Tiffany.
His eyes looked up and to the left as he tried to recall who Tiffany was, and when he remembered her, he nodded to himself.
Australian brunette with huge fake tits, tattoos and, most importantly, an insatiable sexual appetite. She would do.
They’d met at a tattoo parlor. They had both been getting new ink and had screwed like kangaroos no more than an hour after they’d spoken their first words to each other. She had a huge libido and was not ashamed to let him know. He liked that in a woman.
She answered on the second ring, never that it was the middle of the night.
“If you are calling me this late, you can only want one thing. You miss my pussy, don’t you baby?”
“You know it,
babe,” he answered even though he could hardly remember the feeling of being inside her.
Having shagged so many women, it was hard to find one who’d left a lasting impression.
Pussy, however, was pussy. No matter the body it was attached to. They all felt good, but one was as replaceable as the other. If Tiffany hadn’t answered, there were tons of other numbers that he could have called.
Women are easy and disposable, he thought, quickly quelching any stray thoughts of Beatrice.
“So, you free?” he asked.
“For you, Zion? Always,” was Tiffany’s sultry answer.
“Can you come over to my place or do you need me to pick you up?”
“I’ll be there in a few, no worries. Can I bring a friend?” she asked. “My girlfriend is stressed about her man and needs a good root to take her mind off things.”
“You know I won’t say no to that. The more the merrier, see you soon.” His cock rose swiftly in his pants.
She laughed, and he hung up with a smile.
His cock pulsed, aching with the anticipation.
Chapter 9
You gonna give me what I want?
“Oh Zion, yes! Right there! Harder!”
Beatrice’s eyes snapped open and her ears perked up, yanking her out of her slumber.
Wide awake now, she sat up and tilted her head toward the man’s bedroom.
Then the bed-creaking started. Two female voices joined the erotic melody along with the deep bass of Zion’s groans.
Slap, slap, slap came the sound of wet skin smacking against wet skin.
Zion was back to his old debauched ways!
Beatrice threw her head back and laughed.
She could not have been more thrilled.
Swiftly, she shucked her panties and t-shirt.
Settling herself back in the big bed, she spread her legs wide. It didn't take much these days to make her wet.
Fingering herself, she came several times as she listened to the wall-banging action only inches from her.
The sun was coming up by the time things quieted down in the other room. The area between Beatrice's thighs was sticky with her cum and she felt like a limp noodle after her marathon masturbation session, yet her mind was alive with energy.
The beast is back!
Next morning, Beatrice woke with red eyes, a dry throat and a head full of cotton. With insufficient sleep and her insides shriveled up from excessive self-stimulation, she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and stumbled to the kitchen.
Beatrice needed coffee.
Not that she was much of a coffee drinker back when she lived on the farm, but Zion’s kitchen housed a complicated-looking machine that produced these delicious frothy concoctions that were hard to resist.
This particular morning an even more delicious treat awaited her in the kitchen.
Zion, naked, cooking breakfast, with only a tiny red apron to protect his privates from hot oily backsplash.
Simmering sounds and tasty smells erupted from the pans on the stove but that’s not what made Beatrice salivate. It was Zion’s butt cheeks, flexing as he moved from refrigerator to stove that made the girl drool. There was a mole on this left cheek which she imagined herself licking before taking a bite of his glutes to see if they were as firm as they appeared.
He must have heard her entrance and looked back briefly before greeting her with a “good morning.”
Her voice was rusty when she finally managed to return his greeting.
Unsure of what to do with herself, she hovered awkwardly.
Is it gonna screw me now? Is this his way of seducing me? Am I supposed to just go up and jump him?
Her heartbeat hastened as her mind conjured up more and more questions. All scenarios led to one thing -- Zion finally fucking her. Finally turning her into one of his women.
She was excited. She was nervous. She was needy.
He finally turned off the stove and created two plates. She was perspiring by the time he got near her.
“Help yourself,” he told her and walked passed as if there were nothing unusual about the situation.
Shocked, she watched the nearly-naked man as he walked outside the house.
Anger and embarrassment soon crowded in with the host of other emotions making her tremble.
How dare he?
How could he get her hopes up like that only to walk away so nonchalantly?
She stomped after him. He was going to get a piece of her mind today!
She followed the path he’d taken. It led to the garden.
When she got there, Beatrice was again stunned into stillness at the sight before her.
Zion was getting sucked off among the greenery.
The tiny red apron lay on the neatly manicured grass, forgotten.
The raw image he and the dark-haired woman created was such a contrast to the natural and bright setting.
There he was, sitting in one of the two chairs that matched the round table. The woman was hunched between his thighs. She had a beautiful body and was clearly confident in her looks because she showed not an ounce of self-consciousness, naked to the world as she was.
Anyone could have walked in and caught the two of them in the act, but they were unperturbed.
Zion gathered the woman’s long, wavy hair in one hand to get a closer look at his cock being swallowed by her expert mouth.
This woman took far more of Zion’s tool into her mouth than the college girls outside the farmhouse had, and Beatrice was both impressed and curdling with envy.
It was supposed to be me and Zion!
As if Zion had heard her telepathic transmission, he lifted his head.
His eyes connected with hers and they remained that way as he thrust into the woman’s mouth.
His actions produced wet, gagging sounds but the woman eagerly met his motions as her fingers plunged into her own dripping cunt.
Beatrice, eyes filled with hunger, watched as the woman pleasured Zion.
It was difficult for Beatrice to stay still, what with the arousal and aggression that was causing her cells to vibrate. She could feel the insides of her thighs getting slick with need whilst trying her best to prevent herself from physically going over there and forcibly removing the unknown woman on Zion’s cock so she could finally have a taste.
Eventually, he said something to the woman and she stood.
Beatrice tracked the women's movements as she swung her legs over his. Grabbing hold of his pillar with one hand, she lowered herself onto him. She threw her head back and her moan traveled across the grass to Beatrice’s ears.
The woman noticed Beatrice then and winked at the teenager while blowing her a kiss.
She let her head fall forward and kissed Zion as she began to move, bouncing upon his phallus. Her titties swung in his face and he wasted no time taking one in his mouth.
The sound of them going at it competed with the breeze, the bees and the distant buzz of traffic.
The woman began to express her pleasure so loudly that Beatrice wondered whether or not the classy neighbors were listening as they sipped their mid-morning tea.
Zion stood abruptly, his grip on the woman's ass ensuring that they’d remained connected.
The tattooed woman giggled and wrapped her legs around his hips.
Zion started to walk. The woman threw Beatrice a little wave and a grin before they disappeared around the corner, leaving Beatrice at the very peak of frustration
The breakfast Zion had prepared was on the table and remained untouched.
Ever since Zion had brought that first woman home, he had become even more of an unruly beast than he had been at Beatrice’s countryside home.
He was now drinking, filling the air with all kinds of smoke, partying all night--and all day sometimes--and most of all, fucking like a man possessed.
Beatrice did not know what to make of him as he was now.
All she knew was the near-constant state of arousal she was in and
the fact that she had yet to figure out a way to become one of his playthings.
Every day, there was at least one new woman who he banged all over the house with complete disregard to Beatrice’s proximity.
She wanted to seduce him but she had no idea how to even begin.
Maybe she should just walk right up to him and ask him?
Tired of thinking, Beatrice threw caution to the wind and sprinted to Zion’s room. Before she even made it, she ran straight into him, bumping up against his big beastly frame.
He steadied her with his strong hands.
He opened his mouth to speak then suddenly closed it as his eyes ran up and down her body with deliberate slowness.
Only then she did she realize that she’d left her bedroom in only a towel. She had only just had a bath, the white cloth only barely covered her butt while clinging most tenuously to her wet nipples.
His gaze heated. As her body became liquid under that look, she thought she might not have to ask him to screw her after all.
When he finally found his ability to speak, he said the last thing she’d expected him to.
“Isn’t it time you went home, little girl?”
She stumbled back, clutching the towel to her chest.
“What?” she cried.
“You said you’d only be staying a few days and it’s been over two weeks. I’d say you’ve worn your welcome.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” she said, hoping like heck that he was.
“This is not a good place for an innocent girl like you. You’ve seen what kind of life I live. Look, how about this? What if I paid for you to stay at a fancy hotel for the rest of your time in the city? Your meals, shopping, entertainment, and transportation would all be on my tab. You’d want for nothing.”
“Why are trying so hard to get rid of me?”
“Because I don’t want you here. I am a bachelor and I live the life of one. You’re cramping my style.”
Beatrice was humiliated.
Trixie Provoked Page 5