Tempt the Boss_A Forbidden Bad Boy Romance

by Katie Ford

  “Why Teresa? Why would you do this?” I choked. Only a girl who’d given up would engage in this kind of self-sabotage.

  She shrugged. “There was no need to pretend anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m not ashamed of being illegal, I’m applying for deferred immigrant status and should be able to legalize soon,” she said. “And I was just tired of living a lie,” she concluded. “I realized that we’re going to go our separate ways now, you back to your glamorous life, me back to mine as a maid.”

  “Thank you for the payment by the way,” she said quietly, meeting my eyes for the first time. “It’ll help me get through the next few years.”

  I was so consumed with rage I almost shook her, the ring still burning a hole in my pocket. And I wasn’t about to let this go.

  “Teresa,” I said roughly, grabbing her by the shoulders. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. Look,” I said reaching into my pocket. “I got this for you.”

  I wish I’d been a bit smoother, at least gotten down on one knee, but I was a desperate man at this point. She inhaled sharply at the sight of the velvet box but turned her head away.

  “You don’t have to Matt,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to pretend.”

  “No,” I insisted, pushing the box into her hands. “Open it.”

  And she did. Inside was a beautiful five carat diamond, one that I’d picked out with this girl’s brilliance and sparkle in mind. I’d decided that she was the one for me … a permanent running mate if you will.

  “Matt,” she said, her eyes growing big and tearing. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s only one answer,” I replied. “And that’s yes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Teresa

  He hoisted me into the air, the tulle bunching around my waist like a ballerina’s tutu.

  “Matt,” I squealed. “The guests are already waiting outside!”

  “I don’t care Mrs. Sterling,” he rumbled while nuzzling my cleavage, popping out one boob from my strapless bodice and suckling. “I don’t give a flying fuck,” he said again, his voice muffled in my luscious flesh.

  And I sighed, throwing my head back, winding my legs around his waist. It was finally happening. I was getting married to the Mayor in front of a crowd at Mission Dolores, although you’d hardly know it given how determined he was to fuck me, the processional hymn already starting outside, the murmur of voices growing quiet.

  But I couldn’t fight him, his hands were so clever. Bracing me against the wall, Matt ran a hand between my legs, snapping my g-string so that my pussy was bare, ruining my wedding lingerie before we even got to the honeymoon. With a groan, he slid his fingers through my folds, savoring that wetness before unzipping his fly and pushing into me with an urgent thrust, his dick rubbing my clit, angling me so that I seized almost immediately, my cunny clamping down on him, that hot box like a vise on his monster member.

  But Matt wasn’t done yet. Shifting me in his arms, he pushed my knees up so that my ass was exposed, that pucker pink and bare, contracting reflexively in the cold air. Without missing a beat, he pulled out from my vag and shoved into my anus hard, drilling my rectum on our wedding day.

  And reader, it was so fucking disgusting, so fucking wrong that I came immediately. I cried out loudly, uncaring of the guests waiting, uncaring that we were already late for our own ceremony. All I could feel, think about, was that huge cock in my butt, the one that would be lodged in my ass for years to come.

  Because I’m a slut still. I’d come clean with Matt, telling him everything about me there was to know, wanting to give him a way out, the excuse he needed to break up before beginning his new life.

  “My uncle,” I’d said slowly. “He raped me when I was a child. I don’t know if “rape” is exactly the right word, but remember how I screamed the first time you did oral? It was because my uncle licked my pussy for three years when I was a pre-teen.”

  That stopped Matt, the look on his face serious. He’d been running a lazy finger through my vagina, testing my hole, touching my clit with light flicks, but paused when I uttered those words.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “When did it stop?”

  I took a deep breath. “It stopped when my mom found out. And that very night, we started our trek to the United States. And it was really rough, the coyotes, the smugglers, the walk for days through desert. But we got here in one piece and I’ve never been ashamed of my past because things could be so much worse, you know?”

  “I know baby,” he rumbled, looking at me with new respect in his eyes. “But what about the molestation? Are you mentally over that?” he asked with concern.

  “Yes …,” I said slowly. “The fact is that after the first few weeks, it didn’t bother me at all.” I’d dropped my head so that he could barely hear me. “Matt, I loved it. I loved every second of getting my pussy licked, getting it touched and fondled, and I’m a slut because of it.” You could barely hear my voice now, I was so quiet yet so matter-of-fact.

  Matt had hauled me into his lap, circling me with his arms. “You’re beautiful honey, and I’m proud of you for making it through such an experience at a young age. There isn’t a woman I know who isn’t more tough, more real, more amazing. And I love that you’re a slut … my private slut for the taking,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

  And that’s how I ended up with his cock in my ass. Because we knew we were right for one another. My shamelessness and inability to hold back complimented his aggressiveness, his willingness to get down and dirty and explore the deep recesses of fucked-up sex. And there’s a lot more, toys, ropes, all that kind of stuff that we haven’t gotten to yet …

  But in the meantime, the wedding bells were ringing and it was time to make an appearance.

  “Umph!” I squealed one last time as he roared his ecstasy into me, that white hot semen shooting into my rectum, branding my backside. And reader, you know what? I walked down the aisle with the billionaire’s cum trickling down my thigh.

  And it never felt better.

  THE END

  Please turn the page for some more sizzling reads!

  Loving the Babysitter

  ~An 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 www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  DEDICATION

  For everyone who’s ever loved someone they weren’t supposed to …

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mandy

  My ancient Accord puttered into the driveway of the Parkers’ house, coming to a grinding halt, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d made it. My car hadn’t broken down and I’d made it all the way to my next job. Because I hadn’t babysat for the Parkers in months now, and the money would definitely be useful with tuition due soon.

  But as I got my bearings, another sigh escaped me because driveway probably wasn’t even the right word to describe the gravel road. It was a huge, circular rotunda, the kind that you could imagine an army of horses and carriages pulling up to, with a butler answering the door, stiff-lipped with a tray of drinks. And in addition to the huge, stone mansion, there were vast grounds, a beautifully landscaped garden, plus an infinity pool that I could glimpse just around the corner, the water peaceful and smooth in the winter light.

  So yeah, the Parkers lived like kings. And even though we’re technically neighbors in the same gated community, my parents are in the modest portion, with medium-sized homes and small yards, whereas my employers lived up the hill in the extravagant millionaires’ section. But what the hell, I was here for a job and little Violet was the cutest thing, a spunky ball of fire. I couldn’t wait to see her again, those flaxen curls, the baby blues that could melt your heart. Even when she was a terror, the tiny blonde was still adorable, a small whirlwind of energy that could make any adult smile and sigh with exa
speration at once.

  So switching off the ignition, I stepped out of my battered car before carefully walking up the steps to knock on the big door. Just a couple months ago, I would have bounded up the steps like a streak of lightning, athletic and thin as a whip. But I’ve changed these past couple months, and where I used to be rangy and gristly, now I had curves. There was no more tearing up the stairs like a girl on fire, there was too much bounce and flesh, too much sweet heft. So I walked like a lady, hips swaying, trying to keep things decent.

  But total silence greeted me after ringing the doorbell. Weird, that was strange. After another minute, I rang the bell again. Maybe they were all upstairs and couldn’t hear? But then some scuffling noises sounded, some bumps, and finally the door opened, revealing Mr. Parker.

  I smiled shyly, trying not to show my nervousness because Mr. Parker’s always been gorgeous and this time was no exception. The big male was huge and dark, filling up the doorway, making me feel positively tiny, teacup-sized. Of course I’d always noticed, but seeing him again only confirmed his hotness. Coal-colored hair and blue eyes so intense they positively seared my frame. Plus, he had body to die for as well, none of that flabby dad-bod stuff. Broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, with long, powerful legs clad in dress pants.

  “Oh hey Mandy,” he rumbled. “So sorry, we’re a little … Violet, stop!” he called out.

  And as we stood there, a giant wail rang out, making Mr. Parker grimace a bit.

  “Come in, come in,” he ground out, exasperated, taking a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”

  And even though my heart was pumping from his nearness, I made myself smile and step into the foyer. This, I definitely remembered. The space was huge, all marble floors with a giant chandelier swinging over our heads.

  “Where’s Violet?” I asked tentatively, trying to look nonchalant.

  Mr. Parker took another deep sigh. Come to think of it, he was worn around the edges, there were brackets around his deep blue eyes that hadn’t been there before and his laugh lines were a little more prominent. Must have been his job, I knew he worked in finance doing something, what I wasn’t exactly sure.

  “Violet,” he called out again, one hand on the bannister. “Come down please, your favorite person is here.”

  And the patter of small footsteps sounded before a tiny blonde bundle hurtled down the stairs into my arms.

  “Mandy, Mandy,” cried the five year-old. “You’re here!”

  The little girl was such a sweetheart. Despite today being a regular day and not a holiday, she had on a purple ballerina dress, complete with stiff tutu and a glittery crown on her head.

  “Hi sweetheart,” I said cheerily. “I like your outfit. Were you playing princess upstairs?”

  Violet drew back for a moment and I saw that her chubby face was streaked with tears and eyes red from crying.

  “You okay honey?” I asked, more gently this time. “Did the evil witch come?”

  She nodded silently, blue eyes looking up at me, slight smears of chocolate around her mouth. But that was okay, kids get dirty really easily and it could be fixed with a warm washcloth, no problem.

  But there was something was different about Violet’s appearance, it wasn’t my imagination. Just like her dad, she looked exhausted, which was not okay for a five year-old. Kids get tired, sure, but they fall asleep right away and wake up completely refreshed, every day is a new day for them. So it worried me though I tried not to show it. Murmuring reassuringly, I said, “Vi, we’ll get you dinner, cleaned up and then ready for bed okay?”

  But the little girl screamed then, kicking and jerking her legs violently against me.

  “Oof!” the breath woofed out of my stomach, her patent shoes pounding painfully against my hips. “Ouch!”

  And Mr. Parker stepped in then, bodily hauling his daughter off of me, clamping her tight against his big form.

  “I’m sorry, we’ve been having a tough go of it recently, you know with Vivian moving out and all.”

  I stopped in my tracks before catching myself and trying to look normal. Mrs. Parker had moved out? What? When? Why hadn’t my parents told me?

  And Mr. Parker nodded again, eyes dark.

  “Vivian moved out a couple months back,” he rasped, “and it’s been tough for Vi. She hasn’t been sleeping well, throwing tantrums left and right. So if you can manage her tonight, it’d be a miracle.”

  I smiled tentatively.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I said reassuringly even as my mind whirled. Oh my god, my poor little charge. Her mom left and now she was acting out? Heck, any child would do the same, even if Vivian Parker had barely been present in her daughter’s life. Most days, as far as I could tell, the woman hadn’t gotten up before noon and left most of Vi’s care to a nanny who did everything, feeding, bathing, playing with her own flesh and blood.

  Speaking of which, where was the nanny? Mr. Parker, reading my mind, shook his head again.

  “Mrs. Bee quit,” he ground out, shoulders tense as he hugged his daughter tight. “Vi got to be too much and Mrs. Bee was sixty, she couldn’t manage anymore. So she up and left and it’s just you and me, right kiddo?” he asked the little girl, who burrowed her blonde head into his shoulder, refusing to look up. “It’s just us and we’ll be okay right, kiddo?”

  My eyebrows rose although I tried not to look surprised. Mr. Parker had been raising his daughter on his own for the past couple months? That was a tough one. Even though I’m not a parent myself, I’ve babysat a lot and it’s not an easy business. Tiny humans are demanding, always needing to eat, sleep, get their diaper changed, and the twenty-four hour supervision is exhausting. So Mr. Parker’s single dad status must have been tough, beyond tough actually. He was probably bone-tired, with a headache, a walking zombie.

  And he shook his head with a weary sigh.

  “Alright, I’m gonna hand her over to you now because I’ve got to get to the restaurant,” he rumbled, glancing at his wristwatch. “Shit, Alexandria’s gonna have my ass if I’m late,” he growled. “Here,” he said, making to pass his daughter to me. “Vi, it’s time for Daddy to go.”

  But the little girl shrieked, clinging to him, linking her small arms tightly around the big man’s neck.

  “Nooo!” she screamed. “Don’t go Daddy, don’t go!”

  I tried to pull the little girl from her father although it was practically impossible, she was like a barnacle glued to him. Her little legs locked around the alpha’s waist and she burrowed her face in his shoulder again.

  “Nooo!” she screamed repeatedly. “No no no!”

  “Come on Vi,” I said gently, getting in close and putting my hand under her arms. “Come on, we’ll make something really good for dinner okay? Remember how much you like peanut butter oh-ohs? How about I make you some and we eat them together? Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  And despite the fact that I should have been completely focused on my small charge, I couldn’t help but inhale Mr. Parker’s distinctive cologne close up. He smelled so good as I wrested his daughter from his grasp, the soft wool of his cashmere sweater brushing against me, that square jaw and piercing blue eyes just inches away from my face. I blushed hotly, body heating and growing melty inside, quivering a bit at his nearness. But I steeled myself and shook my head. Get with it girl, I scolded. You’re here to help with a heartbroken child, one who has no mom anymore, and instead you’re thinking about the dad? Don’t be so shallow.

  But I couldn’t help my body’s reaction because there aren’t very many hot men on campus, they’re mostly just boys, gangly adolescents with teen acne and wisdom tooth pains. And while there have been a couple boys interested, they were just that, boys, juvenile and lame. Next to Mr. Parker and his dark dominance, the guys at school reminded me of puppies, annoying, yapping at my heels, always trying to paw me. So yeah, Mr. Parker was a nice change, a real man who was assertive, assuring, always in charge.

  But something was
different this time. Maybe it was because I was standing mere inches away, my nose practically touching his, but Mr. Parker’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring, and a dark stain lit his cheekbones. My heart suddenly began pumping a million miles a minute. Could it be? Oh my god, was Mr. Parker aroused by me? By plain old Mandy Smith? My nipples immediately perked, insides growing wet from the realization that this perfect male animal wanted me.

  But I guess it’s not that weird because I have changed a lot in the last year. Like I mentioned, I used to be really ugly and unfortunate looking. I was thin as a twig with braces, with frizzy brown hair and Coke-bottle glasses and no fashion sense. But I decided I didn’t want to start college looking like Punky Brewster’s older sister. So I got the braces removed and started wearing contacts, which was tough because it’s literally putting something in your eye, it freaked me out at first.

  And somehow, as if sensing my desire to transform myself, my body began a metamorphosis too. I put on significant weight and am now curvy instead of stick thin. Fortunately, I’m young so all the weight went to the right places and I’ve got big Double D’s plus a wide, swinging ass, and thick thighs. Okay, I guess I wish the thighs were a little thinner, but you know what? After eighteen years as a stick figure, I can handle a little heft down there, a little junk in the trunk.