But Mr. Jones was an experienced man, an alpha male who dominated and gave with no quarter. So his demand took my breath away, never in a million, zillion years would I have expected this.
“Move in with me,” he ground out. “For ten days, you’ll belong to me, and after that?” he said, his eyes dark, possessive. “Your dad can keep his job.”
I paused for a moment, my heart fluttering.
“Mo-move in?” I stuttered, “You mean, cook for you and do some light housekeeping, that kind of thing?”
As embarrassing as it was to admit it, I kinda wanted more kisses and fondling, exploring this new side of myself, so I was devastated that all he wanted was a glorified maid. Oh god, it was so shameful that I was even thinking this, that I’d been envisioning the big man with his clothes off, learning his body, tracing that massive, thick dick with my hands, my tongue. My imagination had gone completely off the tracks, and I shook myself sternly. All Mr. Jones wanted me for was my cleaning skills, not anything like a girlfriend.
But that was all put to rest in a second, squashed like a fly. Because in a low rasp, Mr. Jones made his intentions clear.
“No baby,” he drawled, “Not as my maid. As my fuckdoll.”
And my face flushed, my body growing hot as my heart pumped a million miles a minute, my cunt growing wet and steamy, the liquid running moistly from my untouched hole. His fuckdoll? As in fuck + doll? Oh my god, oh my god … yes, I wanted it.
CHAPTER SIX
Chris
Lindy was so exciting, practically naked again in the close confines of the SUV with me. Because yeah, this car was huge but somehow we’d wound up right next to each other in the front seat, the brunette’s curvy, nearly-nude form pressed up right next to me, making my dick jut out with nothing more than her presence, her nearness.
Because oh yeah, the teen looked that good even first thing in the morning. She was positively delectable, her brown curls in disarray, a glorious mass down her back, her curvy body covered by nothing but the thinnest of cotton, a nightshirt that was indecent, bra-less, those big boobs jutting out, huge and pendulous. And fuck, but I could almost see her pussy through the cotton, the pink, threadbare material doing nothing to hide those luscious lips, the outline of her puffy flesh practically visible through the filmy material.
So yeah, my fuckrod was on full attention the minute I saw her, the minute I touched her hand on the porch. And I couldn’t control the animal within, she made me that crazy, that alpha, that I couldn’t even act the gentleman. Because yeah, I propositioned Lindy like she was a whore, and not an innocent teen.
“A fuckdoll,” I confirmed. “You come to my house, stay with me for ten days, and let me fuck you every which way,” I ground out, never letting go of her eyes, her caramel ones penetrated by my deep blue.
And she gasped, the color rising to her cheeks, so beautiful, so delicious that I almost spurted right there, almost let it go right there in the cab of the car. But I forced myself down, willing my dick not to give it up so soon, so close to winning.
And with a slow, trembly inhale, Lindy spoke.
“Mr. Jones, are you sure?” she whispered. “Because,” and here she paused. “Because I’m a virgin,” she stumbled a bit on the words.
Now it was my turn to be astonished. A virgin? The teen girl before me was a virgin? How could any woman with a body like hers, the huge tits, the soft, strokable tummy, the luscious thighs and pink cunt, be a virgin for crying out loud? How was it possible that no man had ever breached this beautiful acreage, had never pushed his dick into that tight cunt, never been milked by her inner walls? I practically fell out of my seat but forced myself to stay calm, my breathing ragged even as I stared at her.
“Baby, is it true?” I ground out hoarsely. “You’ve never been touched by a man?”
And her blush grew even deeper, spreading to her chest, disappearing below her neckline, making her breasts rosy. Oh god, how much I’d give right now to see those tits, those creamy pendulous orbs quivering before my eyes. But if I played my cards right, they’d be mine and so much more. Because the girl was nodding again, her eyes bright, chin trembling a little.
“Yes, Mr. Jones,” she said biting her lip. “I’ve never done it before so I’m not sure I could be- be your fuckdoll,” she said, stumbling over the words, as if almost unsure of the correct phrasing. “I’m sorry, is that okay?” she said quickly, her eyes lighting up with worry. “I just wanted you to know first,” she finished quietly.
And I sat back in my chair, leaning my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes for a moment. Holy shit, this changed everything. Because I was going to be able to use an untouched girl, sample flesh that had never been touched by a man before, teach a girl to love taking dick, scream for my cock night after night. Her cunt would be curved to the shape of my dick, and I wanted to, oh god yes, I wanted to, I wanted to make Lindy mine, imprint her with touch, brand her with my mark before any other man.
So I sat up abruptly, eyes blazing, taking the teen’s chin in my hand and meeting her gaze intensely.
“Baby, it’s even better this way,” I growled. “I’ll take care of your body, of you, I’ll make sure everything’s okay,” I promised, my eyes full of emotion. “Just say yes.”
And the brunette nodded, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Yes, Mr. Jones, yes,” she whispered against my lips, her sweet, scented breath mixing with mine. “I’ll be yours.”
And I kissed her deeply then, pulled the brunette to me and kissed that pouty, full mouth, searing her lips with mine, imbuing our contact with everything I felt, every hope I had, giving her a preview of our intimate moments to come, her breasts flush against my chest, that sweet, curvy body leaning against mine, so soft, so willing, so womanly.
“Baby girl,” I murmured into her ear. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
And the girl sighed against me then, melting into me, giving herself to me fully. And although I was the one supposedly in charge, the one who had all the experience, held all the cards, somehow the situation was careening away from me … and I was in serious danger.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lindy
I swung my duffel bag and ran down the steps to the kitchen.
“Hey Mom, hey Dad,” I greeted lightly, “Sorry I have to go back to school early, I know it’s a surprise.”
And Brenda made a frowny face before leaning forward to kiss me on the forehead.
“Oh honey,” she sighed, “we barely saw you and now you have to head back so soon? But you just got home.”
And I nodded, flushing a little on the inside. I was supposed to return for summer school, that was true, but summer session didn’t start for two weeks. I’d fed my parents a white lie about the coffee shop needing extra help during this time, how they needed me to come early to hold down the fort.
So my parents had nodded sagely, eating it all up, never suspecting that I was moving into Chris Jones’ place for ten days to be his … oh god, I could hardly say it. Fuckdoll. Fuck. Doll. Fuck + Doll. The word made my cunt shiver, the cream begin to drip, my insides moist and hot. Because even the thought of what was about to happen made me grow achy inside, my pelvic region tingling, my knees weak as my pussy pulsed pleasantly. Was I ready for this? Could I do it?
But even though it was so wrong, so crazy, I felt oddly at ease, which was strange because a chasm gaped between me and the big man. On the one hand, Chris was an alpha male, worldly, in his forties, and my dad’s boss for crying out loud, whereas I was an nineteen year-old girl, untested, naïve, and a virgin no less. There could be no two people more different, with different experiences, outlooks and expectations.
But the thing is, none of that seemed to matter when it came to Mr. Jones. Not the age gap, not our differing backgrounds, not his abundance of experience or my lack of it. Instead, we’d always seemed okay around each other, casual, friendly, without any crazy awkwardness. And that was part of the reason why I
’d agreed to this. Because of course, I wanted my dad to keep his job and only Chris could make that happen, but at the same I felt comfortable around the big man, knowing instinctively that he’d take care of me, make sure everything turned out okay on this wild adventure.
So with another goodbye to my parents, I skipped down the porch and hopped into my little car. My parents trailed behind me, waving, with no idea that I wasn’t about to make the drive back to school. Instead I was driving twenty minutes to Chris’s house, in the expensive area of our neighborhood, a gated community with huge estates and lavish grounds.
And as my little Jetta pulled up before Chris’s mansion, second thoughts started screaming into my head. Here I was, little Lindy in my college sweatshirt and jeans, whereas Chris lived in a huge stone mansion, sculpted grounds perfectly manicured, a fountain tinkling melodiously next to the front door.
And as if on cue, the big man came out then, casually handsome in jeans that hugged those long legs and a blue t-shirt that showed off his broad chest and thick, strong arms.
“Hey,” he growled low in his throat, the eye contact between us electric.
I smiled shyly him.
“Hey yourself,” I said softly, and like that it was on. His mouth came crashing down on mine as he dragged me into the house, slamming the door behind us before seizing my head between his hands and tilting it for better leverage, to thrust his tongue even deeper into my warm mouth.
And I loved every second of it, pressing up against him, pushing my boobs against his chest, mewling, squirming, sucking on his tongue as he ravished me, running his hands through my curls, all over my body, tracing my hips, ass, and waist as if they belonged to him.
Because they did … for the next ten days. But Chris didn’t take me immediately although I was more than ready. I’d been mentally preparing myself to lose my virginity the moment I set foot on his property but instead, he pulled up for a moment, breathing hard, and shot me a smile before lifting me in his arms and striding into the kitchen.
“You’re gorgeous, baby girl, and I’m gonna be in you soon enough, but first we eat,” he growled.
I giggled nervlously.
“No worries, I had a bite at my parents’,” I said, flushing. Even using the word “parents” made me blush, reminded me of how illicit this was, how Brenda and Jim, even now, thought I was merrily driving back to school when actually I was at my dad’s boss place about to lose my virginity.
But Chris just chuckled seeing my blush, how I turned pink and bit my lip.
“Baby,” he growled gently. “Don’t feel bad about what we’re doing, it’s natural and we’re two consenting adults. And trust me, I’ll take good care of you, your parents won’t have a thing to worry about financially.”
And I bit my lip again, nodding. Because his promise felt so genuine, the look in his blue eyes sincere even as he pulled out some pots and pans to whip up a mysterious concoction.
So I let go, taking a deep breath. After all, I’d agreed to this bargain and it was time to hold up my half of the agreement. But what was this stuff about eating first? It was a weird detour when I’d expected to be thrown onto his bed within seconds of the first day.
“Um, Mr. Jones,” I said hesitantly. “I’m not sure what you’re making but if it’s a protein powder or some kind of energy drink, I’m not really into that stuff,” I said. The blender was whirring and he had about a million ingredients out on the corner.
“I mean, I eat anything, I love food,” I amended quickly, not wanting to sound picky, “It’s just that you must do protein shakes, right? You’re in such great shape …”
My voice trailed off. Oh god, why had I put my foot in it so soon? I was already talking about his physique like I couldn’t get enough, it was the first and only thing on my mind. But Chris just glanced over at me and grinned.
“Really, I’m in great shape, huh?” he rumbled. “You like what you see?” he said casually while cracking an egg into a bowl.
And what could I say? Mr. Jones was positively gorgeous at that moment, the sun shining on his ruffled dark hair, casually handsome, confident, deft with his hands as he mixed things up, his big body at ease and yet filled with latent power, energy that I could feel crackling all around us.
And so I just nodded silently, my eyes wide, lips trembling. Chris paused for a moment to lean towards me, taking my mouth in a sweet kiss, his lips gentle, tracing mine, savoring my plushness, marking what was already his.
“Mmm,” he murmured, drawing back to stare into my wondrous eyes. I was going to melt into the floor right there, slip off my stool and became a puddle on the ground because the kiss had been so warm and so utterly surprising, I was breathless. The big man had tricks up his sleeve, a side to him that was gentle, tender, warm and caring.
But Mr. Jones just shot me another grin.
“Baby,” he said smoothly. “You’re gonna see more sides to me than you ever imagined, more than you ever bargained for,” he said with a wink. “Because so far, you’ve only known me as Mr. Jones, the boss man, but we’re about to change all that. We’re gonna become something more, a man and a woman, exploring each other, enjoying each other, and you’ll get a feel for what I like, as well as what you like … and love,” he said with a heated glance.
But before I could reply, warmth rushing to my pelvic region once more, Mr. Jones poured a huge cup of orange juice and set it before me determinedly.
“But first,” he said with a growl. “We’re eating.”
And I flushed again.
“But I already ate,” I protested in a small voice, although the orange juice bubbled invitingly, the vivid color indicating that it was chock full of nutrients and vitamins.
“No worries,” rumbled Chris casually. “We eat five meals per day around here, and baby, you’d look better bigger,” he added with a sly smile. “You’re too thin.”
I gasped then, my cheeks coloring.
“Too thin?” I parroted dumbly. “But… but … look at me!” I sputtered, gesturing to my figure. Even in the college sweatshirt and jeans, it was obvious that I was curvy, the cotton unable to hide the swell of my girls, my thighs thick on the stool. I guess there’s this new thing called “thigh gape” where skinny girls have a hole between their legs, but I was the complete opposite. I have “thigh smush,” where there’s absolutely no space between my clunkers, no light to be seen.
But I like it. I love being curvy, sassy, and fine, it makes me feel confident and powerful, it was just surprising to hear that my man wanted more. After all, the “preferred body shape” was skinny, but I guess Chris had different tastes?
And the big man nodded, grinning at me again.
“Yep baby,” he confirmed, while slipping a stack of pancakes onto a dish. “You’re gorgeous honey, but I think about twenty pounds more would do the trick,” he said, carefully spurting whipped cream onto the golden mound of dough. “Yep, about twenty sounds right,” he said before pushing the heaping mass towards me.
And I gasped, not just at the amount of food, which was unbelievable, but also at his comment.
“Twenty pounds!” I parroted, hardly believing my ears. “I’d have to eat non-stop to put that on.”
And Chris just grinned at me again.
“Yep, and we’re starting today,” he rumbled, “I’m gonna help you honey, don’t worry, I do all the cooking around this place, I’m good with the pots and pans.”
And blushing, I melted even a little more. A sexy man who was an expert chef, who could whip up every meal, who wanted me curvy, sexy and bouncy all for him? Oh god, this was like a dream come true, a romance hero come to life and I dug in obediently, cutting off a slice of fluffy pancake, dipping it in gooey syrup before putting it in my mouth.
“Don’t forget the butter,” added Chris helpfully, pushing a huge tub of the good stuff towards me. “Everything’s better with butter,” he said with another wink, seating himself on the stool next to me and helping himself to a
short stack.
And so my introduction to my ten days wasn’t scary or weird at all. In fact, it seemed like a completely harmless breakfast with an older man, one who was funny and charming, one who went out of his way to cook for me, make me laugh, put me at ease. I could almost say that there was nothing to worry about, except reality had to intrude at some point. Once the last bite of pancakes was finished, I leapt up and began clearing the plates.
“Here, I’ll clean,” I said with a smile at the big man, “You cooked so I’ll clean, it’s fair.”
But Chris’s hand came down over mine, his big palm square, the fingers blunt and oh so warm.
“That can wait,” he rumbled deep in his chest, his eyes electric suddenly. “We have some things to talk about.”
And my breath caught in my throat, my fingers stilling on the plates.
“Um, of course,” I said, “Just give me a minute to clean up and we can talk all you want,” I said with a sassy smile before fleeing to the bathroom.
I could hear plates clinking outside as I stared at myself in the tiny powder room mirror. Everything about me looked normal, the same brown curly hair, the same big caramel eyes except that there was a new awareness humming all through me, my lips trembling slightly, a little more pink than usual, my eyes were especially bright.
Calm down, I directed myself. You signed up for ten days with Mr. Jones and you know what you’re getting yourself into. It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, I reassured myself.
So taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the kitchen once more, smiling brightly.
“Ready schmeady, I’m at your disposal,” I teased with a confidence I didn’t quite feel, and the big man quirked an eyebrow at me before shutting off the water, turning to look at me with a dishtowel draped over his shoulder, crossing his arms over that broad chest. Oh god, he looked so good, that white towel was so small and limp draped over a strong shoulder, the contrast only highlighting his masculinity. Again, I could feel myself losing control, spinning helplessly once more in his powerful orbit, drawn magnetically by his aura of confidence.
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