He presses almost in, the head of his cock spreading my pussy, and again he slides up and down before he pulls out completely again. He rubs against my outer lips, against my clit. I have to close my eyes and think about something else--I want him to put it in, and I know that the temptation to tell him I need it is going to be too strong any moment.
He looks up at me again, a look of stern disapproval, but also determination. And then he reaches up to my throat and chokes me. It hurts for a moment, but then I feel okay with it as my brain panics and floods everything with feel-good chemicals, for a death that won’t come. Eric knows his limitations, but I grab at his hand anyways, to complete the image. With his free hand he rubs his cock against my pussy lips again, and I want it too much.
“Please,” I wheeze through a tight-constricted throat. His hand loosens.
“Please what? Be specific, Taylor.”
“Fuck me.” I gasp between breaths. “Please put it in.”
He looks down at me expectantly. I try to squirm my way out of following the rules of the game, but in the end I surrender once more.
“... Sir.”
He pulls my lips apart and presses his cock-head against my dripping pussy. For a second I think that he won’t put it in, but then he thrusts forward. I feel him spreading me, stretching my pussy out. I feel like it can’t stretch any more, like his cock is the perfect size, the biggest I can take. He looks at me, at my slutty expression, and he smiles.
“You like my cock, don’t you?”
He pulls out, thrusts back in.
“Answer me, slut.”
I moan in response, my head feeling too heavy to face forward so I let it loll to the side and roll to and fro as he pounds me.
“Fuck me, sir, don’t stop please.”
I barely manage the whole thing between ragged gasps for air, gasps Eric tries to cut short with his thrusting. He leans forward, inadvertently hitting even deeper inside me, and two of his fingers invade my mouth. I suck them, lick them, and he thrusts into me, faster and harder as a reward when I show my enthusiasm for his body. I let my tongue roll between his fingers, and then he pulls them out of my mouth. He wipes them on my tits, and I can’t explain why but it feels deliciously slutty.
“You want me to cum inside you, don’t you, you whore?”
I nod vigorously.
“That wouldn’t be very smart, now, would it? You know you’re not on the pill. I’d knock you up, you know that? Slut?”
I moan out loud. He pushes into me hard to punctuate the last few words and for a moment I have trouble forming the words in my mouth.
“I won’t tell!” I’m almost crying at this point, rolling through orgasms. “Please just knock me up. Please!”
He smiles again, that predatory smile. He speeds up. I wonder if he’s close, if he’ll give me what I want. He grunts with every thrust, pushing himself as hard as he can into my waiting cunt.
“Cum inside me, baby. Please.”
He pounds into me. Again. And then he groans, loud and low, and I can feel his balls twitch, and I know what is coming. A spurt of hot white cum fills me up, a second fills me to the brim, and then a third presses his cum into all the nooks and crannies of my pussy. I feel the warmth of it, and I wonder if I just got knocked up.
He pulls out of me, stands up. I try to sit up, but I find myself too tired to manage. Instead I wave at him, come down to me. He leans over and I kiss him hard on the lips.
“It feels so good.”
He smiles, this time the boyish looking embarrassment that so often crosses his face when he’s not in the bedroom. When he’s not fucking me like an animal. He looks down at me sadly.
“We really shouldn’t do this, you know.”
I smiled. I kissed him again, grabbed him and pulled. He fell down next to me with a grunt. The bed bounced beneath him and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Don’t be silly, Eric.” He doesn’t fight my kisses. “You know I’d be terribly upset without you.”
He kisses me this time, a back-and-forth that goes on for minutes. He reaches across me and spanks my ass again. The sting goes up my spine, sending a shiver back down. I smile at him.
“Are you saying that you’d like another round, sir?”
He swats me again for my tone. I knew he would. He practically had to.
“Your youth is going to be the death of me.” He chuckles. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
Naughty, Naughty Nanny
I'll Show You Everything
Dalia Daudelin
The drink went down like fire and tasted like paint remover. I put the glass down with my eyes shut tight. I could feel the entire mouthful as it went down my throat, into my stomach, and I almost thought I felt it sitting there in my stomach like a pool of burn.
I kept my eyes shut even when the pain was just a distant memory, imagining. I could almost feel his strong arms around me. I could feel his beard bristling against my cheek when he kissed me, his arms pushing me back onto the bed we would share, even if it would only be for that one night. My breathing was ragged and it took all the strength I could muster not to start hiking my skirt up.
He was due home in twenty minutes, and I had to have dinner on the stove in ten, but in that moment I sat back on the couch and just let myself revel in the fantasy. His smell came to my nose, sharp and dark and manly. I wondered where he got his cologne once, an unlabeled bottle whose simplicity belied, in my experience, a higher price than something flashy with a bright white label emblazoned across the front.
The second swallow went down easier, and the third only tickled my throat as my mind continued to drift on about him. He was tall, taller than my father, and strong. Oh, he had patches of gray now, patches he made a point of discussing in a self-deprecating way. I didn’t have the courage to tell him how good they looked on him. And then my cell beeped and it was time to cook.
He came home late, that night, but not so late that dinner was cold--just late enough that I when I heard him coming I had time to take the steak off the burner and put it onto a plate with the rest of his dinner. When the door opened, and he shut it as quiet as can be, he turned to find me waiting.
“Hi, Daddy. Dinner’s on the table. Do you need anything, or should I go back to my book?”
I’ve called him Daddy since the first week I came here, hired as a live-in babysitter. It was just Daddy and his son, until I came to watch Simon. I can’t entirely explain why but I guess I thought it would fit better for Simon if I just called his father Daddy, too. Daddy didn’t seem to mind too much--an odd look at first, but then silent acceptance.
“Thank you, Erin. Do you have the Giants score?” He had walked into the kitchen and I could hear the sound of his chair being pulled out, pulled in, and then pushed back out and he went for the fridge. He’d forgotten to grab a drink. He always did, to the point that it was almost a formality to sit the first time. I smiled to myself.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen it. You want me to look it up?”
“No,” he called out, “that’s fine.”
I could smell him, the same smell I’d just been thinking about. The smell was intoxicating, and I suppose the liquor played a role in it too.
The burning from my stomach had come back, but it was between my legs, and I didn’t fight it. It seemed so harmless at the time. I lifted my skirt, inch by inch, and then I let my hand sit between my thighs, touching my pussy, and then I started to move. I don’t know if I just wasn’t paying attention, or what, but I heard his voice all too late.
“Anything on the television, Erin?”
His voice sounded close, I thought. Is he yelling? He can’t be done eating.
“I was thinking of watching a mov--” He stopped dead. No, he wasn’t yelling. He had just walked through the door to the den, and his face was blanched. His expression was blank, but I could tell it was a mask, and behind it was a great spinning wheel of uncertainty what to do next. Leave? Apologize? Ignore it and ho
pe it went away? I know, because I thought the same things. What I did next surprised me more than anyone, and was none of those things.
I turned toward him, my skirt still around my waist, my legs spread. The wet spot in my panties visible to anyone who cared to look. I put on my best bedroom eyes. And then I said, “Do you want to help with this?”
Daddy didn’t like that. I could see it in his eyes. I don’t know how I could’ve done a single bit of it but the haze was thick at that point. I’m half surprised I didn’t just start humping his leg, with that smell permeating the air.
His face hardened and he strode across the room in two steps, grabbed my wrist, stood me up, and laid me across his lap like a little kid.
Daddy pulled my skirt up. I had been feeling a little sexy that morning, so I was wearing my thong. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but this seemed to drive Daddy nuts. Everything I’d done up to that point seemed to focus in his mind around the idea that I was wearing these slutty panties. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks--I hadn’t expected anyone to find out I had dressed like that.
I heard the first blow before I felt it, a loud “POP” that I almost wondered about the source of until my butt lit on fire. I gritted my teeth and for a fraction of a second I felt proud of myself for maintaining what little composure I had left. Then another POP, and another, and that was all I could take. I screamed. I screamed like I haven’t screamed since I was a little girl, it hurt so bad. I felt his hand touch my bare ass cheek and I stiffened.
He didn’t pull away, didn’t prepare to spank me again, so I relaxed, and that was when he took another swat. I yelped again. It hurt, but I felt in control of the pain. A tear fell down my face, and in some dark primal part of my brain I couldn’t understand why.
He reached down and grabbed my chin. Gentle, but with I guess an understated firmness, some subtle inflection that said there was no room for fighting him. He pulled my face up to look at him and I didn’t resist. By this point the tears were falling freely.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Erin,” he said, “you’re a good girl, and a wonderful babysitter. I’m sorry I had to do that. But you can’t present yourself like that, not around men. Love is not a game, Erin.”
I opened my mouth but no words came out, only a low sobbing sound. I tried to close it but to no avail. Daddy sat me up and left the room as I cried on the couch. I could hear the sound of water running and then he came back into the room with a glass of water in one hand and a pair of pills in the other.
“There. Those will help with the pain, Erin.”
I wiped my eyes and drank, taking the pills down with the water. I felt like my hands were shaking, but I couldn’t see any visible tremor. I kept sipping, taking deep breaths, and eventually I managed to get myself back in order. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Daddy. The silence went on for a long time, until I broke it. I could hear the wavering in my voice, the wavering that comes with being on the edge of tears again.
“I wasn’t trying to act...slutty,” the word sizzled on my tongue and I could feel the tears coming back. I had to take a deep breath, and a second, and then sip the water. It went down cold and I gritted my teeth and tried to keep going. “I just wanted to make you happy. You know, Jack’s mother’s been gone so long, and you never have any lady friends over...”
Daddy sighed from across the couch, looking at his hands folded in his lap. He looked at me, then back down, and shook his head.
“I’m sorry if you feel that way. But, Erin, I’m don’t need you to take care of me. I’m not paying you for that, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to sleep with a man just because he’s your boss and he seems sad. I’m fine, Erin. Go to bed and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I leaned over toward him and tried to quell the sick feeling in my stomach.
“But Daddy, it’s not...” I couldn’t finish the sentence, and then it seemed like I couldn’t figure out how it was supposed to end. “I wouldn’t have done it for just anyone, you know.” I was glad, then, for my tears, because they meant that my blushing was a little less obvious. I hope it was. To me it seemed like my face was a light bulb. My cheeks burned and it was all I could do to keep my eyes on him, to not curl up into a ball and try my very best to disappear.
He didn’t look at me, for a long time, though I know he could feel my eyes on him. And the embarrassment only got worse as time went by, feeling worse and worse. Finally I stood up.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll go to bed now.” I started to walk away, my shoulders slumped in shame and defeat.
“Wait, Erin.”
I stopped. I didn’t want to stop, but he was in charge, and I didn’t have it in me to say no to him--I was too ashamed of myself; my sole rebellion was in not turning back to him, even though I was almost certain that was what he intended.
“Erin, come here, and sit back down.”
I did as I was told. I kept my eyes on my feet. Shuffled across the wooden floor, to the couch. I sat, not looking up, studying my legs bending me carefully into position and my hands in my lap. I watched my hands smoothing my skirt, as if I hadn’t any say in it at all.
“What did you mean by that remark, young lady?”
I looked up, and he still had his stern, fatherly face on, as if I were his daughter.
“I’m not your daughter.” It was surprising to hear it in my own voice. I immediately regretted it, knew it was only picking a fight, but the damage was done.
A tiny, almost imperceptible furrow appeared between Daddy’s eyebrows, only for a split second before it was gone. I almost would have missed it. He looked at me, and then he looked at me more, and I broke first, letting my gaze drop back down to my hands.
“What did you mean, Erin?” His voice still had that hard edge, the voice I always thought he’d learned in his army days, and it took a strong force of will not to talk back again.
“Well,” I swallowed. I tried to think of it like swallowing my pride and the lump in my throat along with it, but they stuck there and I had trouble getting the rest out. “I just. I um, I like you, Daddy.”
“I like you too, Erin. You’re a very good helper around the house, and you’re a wonder with Simon.” His words suggested that he had missed my meaning, but his voice betrayed the fact that he knew exactly what I meant and wasn’t sure how to respond to it. He paused for a long time and no words were said. “Look, Erin. I can smell your breath. You’re a perfectly capable girl and I know you’re not going out, so I wasn’t going to say anything. But you’re not in your right mind.”
I growled.
“No! I just--” I could feel the contortions my face was going through trying to get the words to form themselves in my mouth.
“I can’t say anything to you about it. Tonight was an accident, even. But here,” I reached under the couch, where I hid my diary--indeed, where I hid most things, since nobody ever seemed to look there, and I did the cleaning so nobody would stumble upon it unless they were snooping, and if they snooped then they’d do it in my room and not in the public den. I flipped through the pages until I found the entry I wanted. I handed it to him. “Read this. I think you’ll find it’s perfectly lucid, perfectly sober, and perfectly in love with you.”
I could feel the pit in my stomach opening, and the insides doing flips. The enormous stupidity of the line I’d just spoken hit hard and my head buzzed. Daddy took the book, glanced at it, and then closed it without reading a word. He reached over, drew me into a hug.
“Okay.”
He kissed my forehead, my nose, my eyes. And then he pressed his lips into mine and I could feel my heart skip a beat. I kissed him for all I was worth, loosening his tie without breaking the kiss. He pulled away.
“This is too fast, Erin. You might mean it, but there’s no need to rush.”
I planted another breathless kiss on his lips.
“I’ve waited long enough, and frankly, I never did get to finish what
I started, Daddy.”
To punctuate the point I put my hand on his cock. His look defied expression, a mixture of desire and amusement and superiority, with a dash of doting and a pinch of wickedness.
“Erin, darling, I do think you are a bit drunk.”
“Why should that matter?” I rubbed up and down the shaft I could feel hardening through his slacks. Daddy leaned over, and for a moment I thought he was going to whisper in my ear, until he took my earlobe in between his lips and suckled on it gently. I cooed softly and made a concerted effort to continue gently stroking.
I could feel his hands on my blouse, could feel the buttons coming loose, the hem coming untucked. And then he stopped kissing me. His eyes settled on my bra-clad breasts, and I flushed again, tried to cover them.
“Those aren’t for looking at, Daddy. You’ll notice how small they are.” Joking took the edge off but he pulled my arms away and I giggled to hide my embarrassment.
He pushed my bra up, then, looking at my nipples, nipples I’ve always worried were too dark for my porcelain skin. Tanning had never helped to darken it. When he drew one into his mouth, it hurt for a second, before being washed away in a sea of sensations. My breath hitched, and then his hand slipped up under my skirt and he rubbed just so, and for a second I forgot that breathing was an issue at all.
“Daddy, don’t stop.” He didn’t, rubbing gentle circles around my button, speeding up ever so slowly. I ground against his motions, but it didn’t seem to help, his hand always staying one step ahead of my rocking. My eyes slipped shut and I let the feeling of absolute bliss wash over me for a few minutes as he let the ‘massage’ continue.
I heard a zipper coming undone and I hoped I knew what was coming next. Daddy didn’t disappoint. I had laid back on the couch and he pushed my skirt up around my waist, laying bare my slutty red panties. When he pushed the crotch to the side and slid a strong, course finger into me I felt like heaven. When he added a second I could feel myself stretching, straining against the intrusion, and I wondered what it would be like to wrap around his cock.
Billionaire Heir (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 14