Double Dare: A Fake Fiancee MMF Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  Like a man possessed, Daddy turned his attention to my wetness. I was literally trembling and dripping, a smear of clear juice on my thigh as he pushed me backwards and spread my legs, baring that wet pinkness for his gaze.

  “Cleo,” he moaned deep in his throat. “You’ve only gotten more beautiful,” he groaned before diving into my muff, sampling that sweet woman cream. I almost cried as he licked and tasted my twat, pulling my lips wide so that he could touch me internally, sampling that deep pink flesh. He played with my bud, running his tongue up and down along that tight bundle of nerves while his finger stroked my hole, prepping me for where his dick would go. And finally, Daddy surprised me in the best way possible. He bent my knees far back so that my asshole was exposed and took a deep lick of that pungent hole, burying his nose into my back door, sampling that intense, heated space.

  I was shocked. Drake and I had done anal sure, but I’d been a virgin at the time so we’d never played extensively down there, the big man careful not to hurt me more than necessary, introducing me slowly to the glories of anal sex. But now Drake wasn’t holding back, licking my back hole, lapping at the pleats, pushing his nose against that dark, steamy space. I creamed again, the wetness gushing out of me as he chuckled deeply, lapping at my ass with long, wet laves.

  “Little girl,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got to have you.” And with a mighty roar, Drake stood and pushed into me, his ten-incher buried in me to the hilt.

  I screamed, my vaginal lips parting, cushioning that length, almost split in two by his magnificence. I’d never felt so filled than as at that moment, penetrated by my Daddy’s dong, riding his shaft to heaven.

  Like a drowning man, he took me with no mercy, possessed by demons within. His hips rocked furiously, pushing his dick into me again and again as my pussy was pummeled. The stripper in me exploded and I shrieked. “Ravage me, fuck my pussy, trash it, trash it.”

  The dirty talk propelled Drake to even greater heights and without missing a beat, he pulled out and shoved his dong into my anus. I screamed again, the penetration unbearable, like my ass had just been ripped apart by a massive poker. But Daddy didn’t stop. He just kept pushing until my sphincter gave in with an audible pop, and his rod was buried in my rectum, his balls snug against my ass.

  On the one hand, I was glad he’d pussy-fucked me first because his dick was coated in my juices, making the anal reaming more bearable, more tolerable as he picked up the pace. On the other hand, it was just so hard, so painful, to feel a monster in my butt, dicking me for all it was worth.

  But soon enough, my body relaxed and I was able to enjoy the dong pummeling my back channel. I felt my cunt begin to run again, the juices dripping down to lube his penis as it pounded my anus, and Daddy groaned with arousal, the cream a steamy aphrodisiac.

  “Fuck you’re dirty,” he rasped, and with a mighty roar, he came hard in my butt, releasing rope after rope of hot sperm into my anal chamber. His big body shook like an earthquake, and he held me tight to him as his penis erupted, jerking and twisting as the white spurted.

  I squealed too, my body convulsing on his rod, the hot friction making me orgasm. My pussy and anus clamped down, grabbing his dick, pulling the sticky sperm deeper into my body, welcoming the hot wetness as it sprayed.

  I sighed with satisfaction as I felt the final spurts pulse. Slyly, I reached down and squeezed Drake’s balls, making sure that they were completely emptied, that I’d milked him dry.

  “You’re such a little slut,” he murmured into my ear. “But you’re my little slut.”

  “Daddy!” I squealed, writhing in his grasp. “You’re the one who’s bad! What about all those people waiting still? They’re probably wondering where we are, and I don’t even have a dress to wear now,” I said, nodding at the torn scraps of red fabric on the floor of the car.

  “Baby, who gives a fuck what they think?” he rumbled into the soft skin of my neck. “They work for me, make them wait,” he moaned, as his cock twitched in me once again. “I’ve just rediscovered you, and I want to do it again … second times are always better,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

  And I smiled sweetly, clenching my bottom around his stiffening cock. Daddy was, and has always been, my love, my life, and this was only the beginning of our partnership.

  EPILOGUE

  Cleo

  After our abrupt departure, I can’t say that I was looking forward to facing the Hustler crowd again. I’m sure everyone was talking about the CEO of News Enterprises escorting a barely-clothed stripper out the door. And the hubbub of gossip was to be expected.

  “What the fuck happened in that room?”

  “Wasn’t Cleo Jones a stripper before?”

  “Did that whore just call Drake Markham ‘Daddy’?”

  The talk kept going for a while as rumors and lies swirled around us. But I just lay low, minding my own business. I’m not performing now, I let my stable of girls take the spotlight on CleoWorld, and the Donkey Club hasn’t come knocking, probably because of my changing body.

  That’s right, I’m pregnant … with Drake’s baby. Daddy had the vasectomy reversed at my request, and we weren’t sure if it was going to work, so I was ecstatic breaking the news to him.

  “Daddy,” I whispered, as his cock was still buried deep in me after another session of wild lovemaking. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Mmm?” he rumbled, his eyes still closed as his hands languorously traced my body.

  “I’m having a baby. He or she is due in July.”

  And his hands stilled immediately, although his eyes didn’t open.

  “Honey,” he rasped, “are you sure? You know it’s something that wasn’t guaranteed to happen, vasectomy reversals don’t always work.”

  “I’m sure,” I whispered. “I went to the doctor today and we saw the little one, heartbeat and all.”

  Drake swept me into his arms, burying his head in my neck, holding my curvaceous body close. “Cleo,” he ground out. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, you and this baby. Marry me?” he asked.

  I paused for a moment. “But you’re still married to Lorena.”

  That posed a difficulty. My mom was long gone but that didn’t mean that Drake was automatically divorced. Instead, we had to go through a lengthy process of trying to locate Lorena before going to court, and so far our investigators haven’t had any success. They’ve even gone to Lima, Peru, Lorena’s birth place, and talked to various Jones family members, but no luck yet.

  And so I grew large with our baby, basking in the loving, approving glow of Drake. We weren’t married yet, but will be once he gets a divorce. Did I feel bad that he was leaving my mom? Well yes, but Lorena had done such a trip on us that I just wanted her out of my life, and certainly out of my daughter’s.

  Because we know that the baby’s a girl, and Drake’s going to be a phenomenal Daddy. It’s ironic because I still call him “Daddy” sometimes, but he’s going to be my little girl’s Daddy for real.

  THE END

  BONUS CHAPTER

  Read about Drake’s wild past – a threesome with two nubile coeds when you subscribe to my newsletter at http://eepurl.com/cgt2DD.

  Continue on to read Beg Me: Sold To My Dad’s Boss.

  Beg Me

  ~Sold to My Dad’s Boss~

  A May December Romance Novella

  (Erotic Romance)

  © 2016

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/cgt2DD and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Ten days. I had to spend ten days with Mr. Jones, my dad’s boss, so that my dad could keep his job.

  My dad was caught stealing from his company and Mr. Jones fired him on the spot. But that meant financial ruin for my family. We’d have no place to live, nothing to eat, and I’d have to drop out of school.

  But then M
r. Jones proposed a solution. I’d spend ten days with him at his mansion and everything would be forgiven.

  Except the alpha male had rules.

  I had to wear his clothes.

  Eat his food.

  And worst of all, beg when he asked.

  And I’m ashamed to say … but I desperately wanted it!

  DEDICATION

  For everyone who’s ever begged …

  Admit it, you liked it!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lindy

  I struggled into my swimsuit. It was kinda obscene, I had to admit. I’ve grown a lot in the last year, horizontally mostly, and my boobs, which had been tiny before now went out to here, while my ass went out to there. Basically I was the proverbial hourglass, sassy, curvy, busting out in all places.

  But I sighed. What choice did I have? It was my parents’ twentieth anniversary and I’d rushed home for the party after finals. I’d been so busy studying and trying to do well that I hadn’t had a chance to buy myself a new swimsuit. So I scrutinized myself again. Okay, well if I hiked the top up a little at the neck, and made sure the butt part stayed down, at least most of me would be covered … almost. Barring any accidents, any slippery mishaps, I’d be okay.

  So I sighed again, turning away from the mirror in my childhood bedroom. Yep, the space was exactly as I’d left it last year, a blast from the past. In high school, I’d been really nerdy, studying all the time so that I could get into a good college and the room showed it. The walls were bare but I had a huge bookshelf filled with textbooks and “serious” reading like Charles Dickens and some Russian authors whose names I couldn’t pronounce, then or now. Go figure.

  But despite the boring exterior, I’m still a fun girl … it’s just fun of a personal kind. Because I got a Kindle for Christmas and suddenly there was unlimited access to all sorts of naughty stories, steamy times with my hand tucked between my legs, bringing myself to heaven as I devoured the words, ate up the dirty pictures and videos. So I was the proverbial good girl with a bad side – innocent on the outside but filthy within.

  But I shook myself, sighing. Right, back to business. This swimsuit. I looked kinda like a pornstar even though it was a modest black one-piece, something that was supposed to cover real acreage, totally appropriate for a family setting. The problem was me, there was so much of me now that the conservative cut was now racy, flesh jiggling this way and that, creamy and exposed. But sighing again, I gave up, tying my brown curls into a ponytail, grabbing a towel and leaving the room. I’d just have to be careful, I reminded myself, padding downstairs to the kitchen and glancing through the back window to the patio outside.

  The party was already in full swing, people splashing in the pool, my dad at the grill looking jovial, chatting up a storm. It was mostly older folks, my parents’ friends, middle aged couples in their forties, wrinkled and tired.

  But then I saw him. Christopher Jones was my dad’s boss at United Electric, although I think he was actually a few years younger than my dad. I’d always had a crush on him and at this moment, the big man was hauling himself out of the pool, his arms strong as he dragged that muscular torso from the water. I gasped, my breath coming fast, knees literally going weak because the man was like a god come to life, so gorgeous and dominant emerging from the water.

  Rivulets of liquid sluiced off his hard muscles, his arms strained and flexed as he pulled himself to hip height, level with the pool’s edge before maneuvering himself out all the way, rising to stand on the deck. He was like a warrior come to life, his body muscled, perfectly proportioned, those broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, the thick, heavy thighs. And as if feeling my gaze on him, he turned sparkling blue eyes to me, meeting my eyes through the window, his look knowing, warm. I flushed, growing bright red, forcing myself to stay still instead of instinctively ducking out of sight. Oh my god, had he seen me, or was it just a trick of the light, a reflection of the window pane?

  It was impossible to know for sure, but my inner parts tingled suddenly, wetly moist from that masculine stare. Oh god, how did Mr. Jones do this to me? There were boys at school who’d been interested but they did nothing, I’d shared a couple kisses, wet and slobbery, and a few had felt up my boobs, moaning with ecstasy as they grabbed fistfuls of breastflesh, making me squeal with pain, pull away at the manhandling.

  But I knew with certainty that Mr. Jones would be completely different. Reflexively, my gaze dropped to his large, square hands, dripping with water and my mouth went dry, a fire lighting within my body. Because those hands would be so smooth, so agile on my curves, stroking me to heaven, making me come again and again, my body moist, open, begging him for more.

  And oh god, that package. The big man was wearing board shorts, the kind that looked like regular shorts, coming to his knee. But even through the loose canvas material, I could see a hard edge, an outline of something massive, a promise so hard, hot and hungry that my pussy began to tingle, responding to the call of this male animal.

  And as if reading my mind, Mr. Jones grinned at me through the window, winking before turning away to talk to someone, nonchalant, like nothing was wrong. I snapped back to reality. Holy shit, he had seen me, I hadn’t been imagining the eye contact, those blue eyes had read my desire, how I’d grown flushed with heat, needing him, my breasts heaving with excitement. My mind went crazy, spinning into various scenarios, imagining being with him, on him, in him, in all sorts of illicit, crazy positions.

  But real life struck. I was a nineteen year old college girl whereas he was an experienced, dominant alpha male. What did I have to offer him? Chris could get any woman he wanted, any female would be happy for a few minutes alone with that hard, male body. So I snapped myself back to reality. What had felt like a slow-mo scene to me, a fantasy sequence complete with flashbacks and flash forwards, had probably been two seconds of real life at most. I’d probably imagined the whole thing, it’d been nothing but a daydream, the fantasies of an inexperienced girl. Because of course, Mr. Jones was already chatting up some middle-aged woman, a skinny blonde chick with an orange tan who looked him up and down hungrily, eyeing him lasciviously while licking her lips, hanging onto his every word, devouring him with her eyes.

  And embarrassed suddenly, I turned away, head down, grabbing my towel before making my way outside, going over to sit over behind a tree, making myself inconspicuous. Mr. Jones had so many options, the world at his fingertips, women dying to meet him. And as for me? I was a teenage girl, a complete nobody, and absolutely, utterly out of my league.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chris

  I’ve known Lindy a long time now. The first time we met was when she was sixteen and she’d come to a company function. Back then she was rail-thin and mousy with huge clunky glasses, and I hadn’t paid much attention except to say hello to my employee’s family.

  Because Lindy’s dad, Jim, works for United Electric. We’re a small construction outfit, doing jobs all over Long Island, both residential and commercial, and Jim was a great guy, talkative, outgoing, like a friendly golden retriever always ready to do your bidding.

  But there had been some anomalies in his performance lately, some things I couldn’t overlook and I’d had to take it up with him.

  “Jim-boy,” I said casually last Friday, leaning back at my desk. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened with that last job?”

  Jim got really red, made all the worse by the fact that he had blonde eyebrows. He looked like a red potato with golden whiskers, fresh from the oven. I almost felt sorry for him, the dude was so uncomfortable and fidgety, but I steeled myself. I was the boss and this was business, nothing more.

  And he hemmed and hawed, making excuses.

  “Costs got out of control, the supplies were more expensive than we thought and you know Danny over with Kamco, he was supposed to extend us credit, but he didn’t,” the man babbled nervously.

  But I shook my head slowly, the drivel running through my ears.
These were just shady half-truths. Jim was our controller, he was supposed to be on top of the numbers and the problems didn’t stem from supply issues or cost overruns. It was far more serious, a rotten inner core from deep within.

  So ignoring the other man’s chatter, I leaned over my keyboard, tapping a few times and pulled up a spreadsheet before turning the monitor towards my employee.

  “These are the books from last month,” I said casually, “Your job is to keep on top of them, make sure they reflect United Electric’s daily revenues, our spend, our take from each job.”

  The blonde man nodded miserably, so nervous that he was beginning to sweat, and I could see a shiny slick on his forehead. But I was going in for the kill and this was no time to back off.

  “And this,” I said pointing to a column numbers, “is less than it should be.”

  Instead of denying it, Jim just looked down, nodding, twisting his hands in his lap.

  “I know, I know,” he babbled, “I’ll look at it again, I had a feeling something was wrong, the numbers didn’t square up, didn’t meet our estimates …”

  I cut him off.

  “This has nothing to do with estimates or projections,” I drawled smoothly. “The numbers don’t add up because you’ve been taking from the till, helping yourself to some extra, Jim-boy. Why? Why did you do it? Do I not pay you enough?”

  And Jim looked about ready to burst into tears then, his chin quivering, eyes growing moist and bright.