by Kira Blakely
Table of Contents
Forbidden Three
Copyright
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Thank you!
Forbidden Daddy
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About the Author
Blakely After Dark
KIRA BLAKELY
Hello, my naughty Kiralites!
You’re not going to want to miss any addition to my Blakely After Dark series. This series is not my typical book. These are shorter reads where I push boundries and get naughty! Sign up for my Blakely After Dark newsletter and recieve a free extended epilogue to Forbidden Daddy that has a SUPRISE ending!
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Copyright © 2018 by AG Media, LLC, a representative of Kira Blakely.
All rights reserved.
AG Media, LLC owns exclusive rights to all content herein. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from AG Media, LLC, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
A gold letter, wrapped in diamonds, addressed to me.
You are cordially invited to Mystique Island.
I’m the nanny to the world’s sexiest billionaire.
He spends his spare time at Mystique Island.
Days of masked sex. No names. No obligations.
Perfect for me. He’s my truest fantasy.
And I just received an invitation.
When I arrive, I’m moaning for hours.
But the rough hands, the ocean-blue eyes, and the cologne…
They’re different on this island.
And when I find out why, my fantasy is twice as fulfilling.
It’s not just my boss who’s waiting to claim me.
It’s his twin brother, too.
Now, I have a choice. Take one. Take both.
Or leave the love behind.
I’m in over my head, but it’s too late to stop.
These big boys are making me beg.
Welcome to Blakely After Dark. This is a naughty read for mature audiences only. This is a 40,000 word story. About 200 5x8 print pages. I’ve included Forbidden Daddy, book 1 of the Forbidden Series. Happily ever after’s are guaranteed!
Forbidden Three
This is book 4 of the Forbidden Series. Each book is a stand alone and does not have to be read in order. This book is twice as long as others in the series, but still not full length. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Danielle
Holden Long is my personal form of torture.
He’s my boss. He’s my fantasy. He makes me ache in all the right places.
And I can never, ever touch him.
I stand in the kitchen of Holden’s two-story home, a brick-faced duplex in Manhattan, and prepare his daughter’s snack for her trip to her mom’s house.
Five-year-old Jessie is super excited to see her mother, and I’m always happy to see this precious little girl, whom I’ve only known for a month, reacting like this. Even if it means I have to take a weekend off, away from Holden and his sharp gaze, his sturdy silence, his presence.
Ugh, it’s been one month! Get a grip. You can’t fall in love with someone after a month. It’s never gonna happen, girl. And it’s totally wrong, too.
“Mommy’s here!” Jessie scoots into the kitchen, dressed in her princess outfit and grinning from ear to ear. “I’m leaving, Nansy!” She calls me that instead of “the Nanny,” and I kinda like it.
“That’s great, honey. I hope you have an awesome weekend with your momma,” I say, handing her the little Finding Nemo bag I’ve packed her lunch into. “Be safe. Where’s my hug?” I crouch in front of her.
Jessie flies into my arms and squeezes so tight I wheeze. “I’ll be back on Monday, Nansy.” She pats me on the back of my head. “Don’t worry. You won’t be lonely for too long.”
“Aw, thanks, sweetie.”
She steps out of my arms, grinning broadly, her blue eyes sparkling. They’re the same as her father’s.
“Ready to go, angel?” His voice purrs through the kitchen, and my heart tha-thumps against the inside of my ribcage.
Speak of the devil. The delicious, totally-out-of-reach devil.
The newly divorced Holden Long fills the doorway that leads into the kitchen. He takes up all the space—hell, he steals the air right outta the room.
Towering above me, with those ice blue eyes, a sharp, long nose, and full, expressive lips and that beard I’m dying to touch, he stuns me. A swimmer’s body. That’s probably the best way to describe it. So sexy.
But Holden Long is so much more than a hot, muscly frame and forever eyes. He’s strong and silent, and he’s borne the hurt of his divorce without showing any pain. He’s helped Jessie adapt to a new life these past few months.
The only reason I’m here is because it’s difficult for him to juggle a billion-dollar empire and all his duties at home without a partner to share the load.
“Bye,” Jessie cries out, one last time.
“Bye, sweetheart. See you soon.”
The two of them head out, and I hurry to finish cleaning the mess I’ve made. I may have gone a little overboard with Jessie’s snack. I’ll miss her, after all, and she deserves a treat after going through so much.
“What are you doing, Dani?” I mutter to myself.
This is supposed to be a way to save money for my studies. I’m twenty-two and desperate to go for my private pilot’s license, then the commercial, but I can’t afford a loan. This job is a total boon.
Holden pays well more than what I need to survive, and he’s put me up in the guestroom in his house, just down the hall from the master bedroom.
My core tightens—the thought of him in there, naked, under the sheets.
Stop! You need this damn job. You can’t screw it up!
I busy myself washing off plates then wrench open the door to the dishwasher and start stacking.
It’s probably a good thing I have to leave this weekend. I’m going to visit my sister upstate. Get my head away from Holden, out of his bedroom, out of his pants. God, I’ve had maybe one boyfriend in my entire life, and I’ve never been this hard up for it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The door slams and footsteps echo down the hall.
I tense up but keep stacking, bending so my ass is on display in the tight skinny jeans I chose this morning. Each day, I try a little something to grab his attention, as pathetic as that may seem. Nothing’s ever going to happen.
Still, I wiggle my butt and hum.
“Danielle.” His voice is a growl behind me.
I shut the dishwasher’s door, straighten, and flush hot from head to toe. Then I turn slowly to face my fantasy. He’s inches from my chest, looking down, his pupils dilated.
“Hi, Mr. Long,” I say. I never call him Mr. Long.
“I’ll be leaving this afternoon to see my brother.” His gaze lights on the sparse cleavage that shows above the lip of my blouse
. I try to keep it modest around the house. “Have you got somewhere to go for the weekend? Or will you be staying here?”
My breath hitches in my chest. God, I wish that was an invitation. “Yes. My sister’s.”
“Good.”
Silence builds between us. Heat. I have to get out of this kitchen before I throw myself at him. Wrap my legs around his waist, grind my already wet pussy against the outside of his jeans, which fit him to perfection.
I lick my lips and look down to avoid his gaze. I catch a glimpse of his crotch, and the bulge there, a length of what looks like thick pipe.
Oh, god, he’s hard! He’s hard!
My nipples pucker and pluck against the cotton of my bra. I’ve chosen something comfy today, and it does nothing to hide my reaction to him.
“I hope you have a good weekend, Mr. Long,” I say. Again with the formalities. Cringe.
I scooch past him and make for the door, because I absolutely, 100 percent cannot afford to lose this job.
I won’t make what I need working at McDonald’s or any other restaurant around here. I’ve already tried waiting tables, and after my mom’s passing, money is super tight. We’re a family of five sisters and one tired dad.
I distract myself with the thoughts and rush out of the kitchen. “I’ll pack my bags,” I say, over my shoulder, then dart out into the hall.
I pause a second, press my back to the wall, and catch my breath.
Calm down. Calm down.
It’s the first time he’s ever been that close to me. That he’s ever reacted to me. And I’m tempted to go back in there, drag his dick out of his jeans, and polish him off with my mouth, my hands, every fucking part of me.
God, why do I want him this much? It can’t be normal.
I push off the wall and spot the mail waiting on the foyer table, a mess of envelopes I usually organize for Holden into two piles: junk mail and bills or personal correspondence.
Perfect distraction before I leave.
I grab the bunch and sort through them letter by letter.
Bill. Junk. Bill. Junk. Happy New Year Card—ha, that’s a little late. Junk. Junk. Ju—
What’s this?
A golden envelope addressed to me. Weird. I never get any mail. And I certainly haven’t listed Holden’s place as my current address.
But there’s no mistaking it. That’s my name embossed on the front, surrounded by… diamonds?
No way.
I’m tempted to crack a tooth on one just to see—yeah, I’m that kinda bad bitch—but I don’t. Instead, I slip the letter from the pile and hold it in both hands.
My gaze skips past it to the remaining mail, and my eyes widen.
There’s another letter. This one in exactly the same print as the first.
Mr. Holden Long.
He’s got one, too. My curiosity hits the roof. I quickly finish sorting the rest of the mail then hurry past the entrance to the kitchen. I don’t dare glance in, in case I spot Holden in there and lose my resolve.
I take the stairs two at a time then rush down the corridor and burst into my bedroom. I shut my door behind me and lift the golden envelope again. My pulse races.
This feels important.
I’m not sure why. And Holden has one, too. That has to mean something, right?
I turn the envelope over, fingers trembling, and open the golden lip. I slide a delicate piece of paper out from within.
Dear Ms. Danielle Powell,
You are cordially invited to join us for a weekend of sex and mystery on Mystique Island. Masks will be required at all times during the course of your stay. All clothing, food, and accommodation will be provided for you.
Welcome to the sexiest event of your life.
The envelope is unsigned, but there’s an additional page of details. A plane ticket included, and a brochure explaining the island and what the parties there entail. Very explicit pictures dot the pages and my mouth goes dry.
Mystique Island?
And Holden is invited, too?
This sounds way more intriguing than a weekend upstate, but can I really do this? I’ve never been a prude. I’m more of a sixties child without the necessary sexual experience. Going to this type of “event” doesn’t scare me too much, though I’m kind of nonplussed about who invited me.
If we both have an invite, does that mean that it’s from him? No, it can’t be. Holden wouldn’t jeopardize this.
I scan the words again.
Masks will be required at all times.
What if I can be with him? No strings attached. Get rid of my desires for him once and for all. Live out my fantasies during this one weekend?
I swallow and lick my lips, the memory of Holden’s dick pressed against his jeans front and center in my mind.
I’ll do it. Just this once. And if he’s not there… I’ll leave. That’s it. Just one weekend, and he’ll never know, and it won’t matter when we’re back.
Will it?
Chapter 2
Holden
The golden envelope holds the words I’ve read several times over the past few years. I rarely visit Mystique Island. When I do, it’s to catch up with my twin brother, Joey, because he’s out of town doing business for us most months. In fact, I haven’t seen him in almost half a year.
He’s been in Japan for ages.
Joey’s my total opposite in everything except looks.
He’s the bad version of me. He’s a party animal, a man who is always free and never settles down.
Joey will take a look at this envelope and its invitation and hop on a flight and boat ride to Mystique whether I go or not.
He loves fucking, and he loves parties. That’s Joey.
But I’m not him. I’m the responsible dad. Or I was until the fucking divorce ripped my family in two. It was an amicable resolution, but it still messed with Jessie, and that eats me up inside.
I walk to my king-sized bed and sit down on the pale blue sheets. I turn the envelope over and over in my hands, shaking my head.
I have a whole weekend to myself, and I promised I’d go to this damn island, if only to catch up with my brother. It’s my excuse.
The truth is, I want to fuck, too. But not any of the women there, in their masks.
I’ve visited Mystique several times, and I’ve made a connection with a woman maybe once or twice. I’m never interested when I get there. There’s mystery, yeah, but there’s nothing I haven’t had before.
Threesomes, women in all shapes and sizes, they’re shit from my past. From when I was young and dumb. Joey’s still in that phase, even though we’re the same age. Fine, I’m a minute older.
“Fuck,” I grunt and drop the envelope on my bedside table.
I shouldn’t be conflicted about this. It’s not a difficult decision.
My problem, my big fucking problem, is the woman who’s down the hall this very minute, packing her bags to leave my house for the weekend.
I don’t want her to go.
I want to drag her into my fucking bedroom and eat her out until she screams my name. I’m craving her. I have been since she arrived in this fucking house.
Hiring her was my mistake.
She’s become a constant, and I love that. I love seeing her in the kitchen in her tight jeans, her ass up in the air, tempting me to touch.
A noise echoes from two doors over. Her room. I get up again and walk toward the exit to my master bedroom. My big, empty master bedroom.
I crack my door open, a frown wrinkling my brow.
“Oh, god.” It’s a moan. From her lips.
My cock twitches. This is too much for me to handle.
I can’t fuck my nanny. I can’t mess around under this roof. I can’t jeopardize Jessie’s state of mind.
But she’s not here this weekend. And Danielle is. Danielle, who smells like soft, sweet vanilla and spice. She’s what you want. Take her. Fuck her.
“No,” I grunt to myself and click the door closed.
Danielle isn’t packing down the hall—she’s caught in a private moment. Likely, she thinks I’m still in the kitchen and doesn’t want me to hear. She ran out of there fast enough once she realized how much I wanted her.
I won’t bend to this. I’m not a fucking animal.
I can’t fuck her.
Any other woman would’ve been bent over a desk by now, but not her. Not Danielle.
I walk to my bed again and slide open the top drawer. I draw out the bottle of lube from inside. I’ve run out of it this month and replaced it twice. Danielle’s presence has me jerking off every day, at least once.
It’s the only way I maintain my sanity around her.
Another moan leaks in from underneath my door, and I’ve effectively lost it.
I unzip my jeans and tug them down, bring out my dick. It’s bigger than most women see in their lives. I know because I’ve been told. I’ve witnessed the gasps and the licked lips, the excitement.
Danielle will love it.
I let myself fantasize about that.
I grab the lube and pop the cap, squeeze some into my palm, then smooth it over my dick, focusing on the tip.
“Fuck,” I growl and buck my hips.
It’s too good. This will be another one of those orgasms.
Any time I fantasize about the nanny, I come so hard my toes curl. It’s not just her tight little ass, those perky tits, or the long dark hair that falls past her shoulders. It’s not those pouty blow job lips, or the sparkling hazel eyes, flecked green.
It’s her manner. Her care.
I want her to nurture me. Nurture my dick, god damn.
My dirty thoughts lead me. I walk to the door and lean against the wall next to it, listening hard.
Another moan, this one breathier than the last.
I stroke my dick, up and down, shut my eyes, and picture her naked on her bed.
The sheets in her room are pristine white, and she lies back on them, now, I fucking see it.
Danielle’s hand is thrown up over her head, fingers caught in the sheets, her other hand working her pussy. She slides two fingers inside and rams them in and out, moaning, writhing, her feet planted on the bed.