by Daisy Jane
I kissed her neck again and enjoyed myself as I rolled one of her nipples between my fingers. “I just had some emails to answer before today’s trip.” She nods and sets her coffee down, spinning into my arms, facing me.
“You have done so much for me, Brooks,” her bottom lip moves gently, her eyes down on her fingers which tangle in my shirt. “I love you and I appreciate everything that you do for me.”
“Baby,” I set my coffee down so fast it sloshes out onto the counter. Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her, softly. “I’d do anything for you.” She nods and perches herself on her tippy toes to find my lips. A sultry look fills her eyes when our gaze meets again.
“How can I ever repay you?” the side of her mouth curls into a sinister little smile, teasing me. She raises her arms in the air, her voice merely a rumble. “Lift.”
I pull my shirt off of her and drop it to the floor.
I’ll never tire of those full, sweet breasts and how soft they feel in my hands. I love the way her little pussy gets so warm and slick when she feels how hard I am for her. She loves knowing she turns me on, it makes her so fucking wet. I reach down into her panties and slip two fingers between her folds. She moans, putting her palms flat against my chest, rolling her forehead against me.
“Oh,” she pants out, her wetness coating my fingers. I rake over her swollen clit a few times as her fingertips curl into my chest, her head rolling back and forth, wild and quick. Then, as I’m playing at the opening of her sex, threatening to impale her and pleasure her fully, she flips around and hooks her thumbs through the straps at her hips. She glances back at me once, just long enough to give me a smile so coy that my dick throbs hard in my jeans, precome spilling from me. Slowly, she tugs down her panties and exposes her smooth, sweet ass and those swollen pink lips between her thighs.
We had been having so much sex, we decided Britta should go on the pill. Actually, after just a month of being together, she told me that she couldn’t stand that she didn’t know what it really felt like to be filled by me. She said she didn’t want to let a condom have the best part of my orgasm anymore. How could I argue with that? We got her on birth control shortly after and it has been fucking amazing.
“Fuck me,” she whimpered over her shoulder. Unzipping, I pulled myself free from my pants. My cock was bright red, thick, throbbing in my hand. I’d never gotten as hard as I did when I was with Britta. When I was in a room with her, I was all testosterone and protector. She brought it out of me.
Pushing the head of my cock to her pussy, I thrusted forward, deep inside of her. She shrieked with pleasure, the noise she always made when adjusting to my size. Her tits pressed flat against the counter, I reached forward and wrapped a hand around her shoulder and neck, pulling her back against my cock.
“Fill me up, Brooks,” she panted as I stuffed myself inside of her over and over and over.
And then her ass trembled against me and her thighs threatened to give and I felt her spine go wobbly.
“That’s right, baby,” I let my hand move from her waist around to her clit, and I stroked it with one finger tip, gently but quickly. She moaned and pushed her hips down against me, impaling herself on my cock as deep as she could.
“Show me how you come,” I said, slowing myself down until I was motionless inside her, our bodies flush.
Then she started to come, her orgasm tightening on me like a vise. I wanted to ride it out—enjoy the feeling of her finding her bliss on my cock. But it felt too good and her pussy was always so fucking wet when she woke up, she was always looking for ways to tempt me. Which didn’t take much.
“Oh, Brooks,” she moaned, resting her cheek on the counter top. Reaching forward, I filled my hand with her hair and tugged her back, holding her like that as I came, her body working my cock for more. Her pussy squeezed me so tight when she came and as she wiggled that bare ass into me, I felt the last surge of my orgasm tear through me. My thighs burned as I pumped the last bit of spend into her, filling her totally, my orgasm dripping down her thighs when I pulled out.
“Oh,” she whimpered, “I wanted you to stay in me like that a bit longer.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout as I reached for a paper towel, and started to clean up her legs.
“We need to get going soon,” I said, dragging the towel through her folds, enjoying the view that came with it. She scooped her panties from the floor and watched me tuck my cock back into my jeans, something she loved doing. I’d learned right away that Britta loved watching me touch myself and we’d had a few wonderful nights of watching one another indulge in self-love. She’d opened my eyes to a whole world of sex and discovery that neither of us knew was there.
“Bring my notebook down from the office, will you, love?” I poured us more coffee and pulled my baseball cap, sliding my glasses on too.
“Of course. Give me fifteen? Just a quick shower?” she nods eagerly and pads through the house, her panties balled up in her hand. I watched her go up the stairs and thought, for the millionth time, my heart may actually fucking explode because I loved her so much.
I had something in there for her and I’d been saving it for this drive. It wasn’t another poem, but something more important.
Now that she was going to see the properties and choose which she liked the best, that meant we’d probably move soon. I knew how much she loved the house on the hill. She’d grown an emotional attachment to it, for sure. But it didn’t make sense to drive to Connecticut every day once she’d started her business, so we had to move. I teased the idea of having a bakery here in New York but because Melody had loved it in Connecticut so much, she seemed to like the idea of being there better. But she’d never say it. Britta, the thoughtful and sweet woman that she was, she’d never tell me she didn’t want to stay in the city. She’d make herself happy anywhere she was and while I knew she loved the house on the hill, I knew Connecticut with her own bakery is where she was meant to be.
I’d just have to build another house on the hill. In Connecticut. And about six months ago, I’d found the perfect place to do that. And after we saw the properties today, I’d show her the land.
When she came back downstairs, my heart nearly stopped. She wasn’t wearing anything I hadn’t seen before nor was her outfit tight or revealing. But god she was so beautiful. So perfect. Long, honey hair flowing freely over her shoulders, green eyes intensified with black mascara, a real smile on her lips.
“Is this okay?” she opened her arms to her body, looking down at her outfit. Jeans, a white t-shirt and sneakers. She wiggled her hips and tapped a toe on the floor, modeling her outfit like she usually did before we went anywhere. She could be wearing a bedsheet and she’d be a fucking knockout.
“Baby, you could never look bad,” I say, honestly. Her cheeks go flush and she smiles, sweeping her hair over one shoulder, pacing to me.
She wraps her arms around my waist and rises to her toes for a long, passionate kiss that tastes like coffee and cake and it makes me hard, again.
“Later,” she says, cupping my cock through my jeans. “But now, Connecticut! Our bakery awaits!”
She says ‘our’ because I’ve funded it but it’s all hers. I’ve promised her it belongs to her no matter what. As soon as she selects the place. I can’t wait to get to a place where she’s comfortable accepting that what is mine is hers, utterly and completely.
She holds the notebook in her lap as we drive, my hand on her thigh because I cannot be in a space of any size with her and not touch her. It’s impossible. I magnetize to her.
When we arrive in Bridgeport, the GPS tells us we’re just five minutes shy of our destination.
“Will you tell them that you own the whole strip?” she braids her hair while I navigate the downtown scene.
“No. When you decide which shop you prefer, I’ll have my lawyer let them know their lease will expire in a year. Then we’ll spend the next year figuring everything out,” I lift my hand from her lap and park the car,
leaving us about half of a mile to walk. I love walking with her, her small hand tight inside of mine, the sun on the tip of her nose. We get stares, some people whisper, but if it bugs Britta, I’d never noticed. I didn’t care that I was nearing fifty and she wasn’t even twenty-two—we were soul mates and I knew it.
“Let’s walk the last bit,” I tell her, getting out of the car.
We walk, hand in hand, down the sidewalk, which snakes through the center of town. She’s quiet for a few minutes and I look down at her. She’s gnawing the side of her lip and her brow is furrowed, like she’s unhappy or in deep thought.
“What’s the matter, baby?” I shake our hands, interlocked, and disrupt her from her thought.
“It’s just, where will the business go? You know, the one who’s shop we want?”
Always thinking of others. Warmth spreads up my neck into my face and I shake my head and give her a small smile.
“I love you; do you know that?” I say to her.
“I love you, too,” she licks her lips and I have to look away so I don’t have a flashback of what those lips can do, what they feel like on me. Can’t walk with a raging hard on after all.
“I’ll find them somewhere else to go, okay?” I promise her.
I’d never done that before. You couldn’t have a heart when it came to business, or else you’d bleed out trying to help everyone. But for Britta, I’d do it.
We walk up and down the entire strip of property that Barrow and I purchased and, much to my amazement, all of the shops are absolutely ‘adorable’. Britta’s words, not mine.
We pop into an old-time candy store where they make fresh salt water taffy and sell lollipops the size of my head, we peruse a store called Yesterday’s Books and enjoy the musky smell of old stories. There’s a watch repair shop, an antique shop and a few clothing boutiques. After a few hours of walking, chewing taffy and taking photos, Britta grows overwhelmed thinking of which shop to choose and tells me she’s ready to go back home.
“I need to really think about it,” she says, and I love it when she pours herself into things like this. No stone goes unturned when her mind is set on something.
“I’ll get you information to help your choice. Foot traffic, sales, things like that.”
She nods.
“Can we make one more stop before we head back?” I ask, my hand finding that spot on her thigh as we settle back into the seats in the car.
“Melody is out of town!” she pouts, “I can’t believe the Saturday we come here she’s not here!”
Indeed, I’d wished that part of this trip had worked out better. But I couldn’t wait another week. Now that I owned the property for the new house for the last six months, we needed to start building.
“I know, baby, and I’m sorry about that. We can come back when she’s returned.” I squeeze her leg and she covers my hand with hers, weaving our fingers together.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Where are we going now?”
I ask her to read me the address on the first page of the notebook and she does, watching me input it as she speaks it. Her eyes go to the GPS and the satellite shows a large hill with nothing built on it. I raise ours hands to my mouth and kiss the back of hers.
“If you could change anything about the house on the hill, what would it be?” I ask, and she’s momentarily forgotten about where we’re driving.
“Hmm,” she tilts her head and blonde hair falls in front of her face for a moment before she tucks it behind her ear. “I don’t know, that’s a good question. I really love your house as it is.” I nod. I figured she may say that. Never one to complain or gripe, even if it’s asked of her.
“Think about it,” I tell her, as I navigate the roads which are tucked between luscious green hills that lap at a bright, clear blue sky.
“I always forget how fresh the air is here,” she says, rolling the window down, letting the new air fill the car.
We drive like that, the cool air nipping at us, for another ten minutes or so until we arrive at the bottom of a large, slightly lopsided hill.
“It’s getting graded this week,” I say, winking at her before getting out of the car, taking a place on the hood. She meets me there.
“What are you guys putting here? I mean, it’s pretty isolated. It would be hard for a business to thrive.”
I turn to her, wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into me, gently.
“No business.”
She’s quiet. She doesn’t understand because she isn’t used to being treated the way she should.
“This is where our new house on the hill is going to be built. I timed the drive—we’re just ten minutes from the strip downtown. So when you’re exhausted from a long day at the bakery, your drive home will be quick.”
Her eyes are wide, her mouth falls open, and Britta becomes utterly speechless.
“I told you, Britta. The bakery will be yours, in your name. I don’t care about being in the city. I’ll sell that place after we’re comfortable here. I know you love that house though. We’ll build it again, only this time, exactly the way you like it.”
“You can’t—”
“I can work from anywhere and if I absolutely need to get into the city, it’s not too far away. This is better,” I open an arm to the green around us. “This is much better, don’t you think? And we’ll be near Melody.”
“And Donny,” she smiles.
“And Donny.”
Her chin tilts up and I take her mouth with mine, a slow and passionate kiss. When we pull apart, she kisses me again, quick, and rubs a thumb across my bottom lip.
“A whole house for us to have firsts in,” she says.
I can’t wait.
Stay Tuned…
Coming Soon…
Maid for Marriage
Book 2 of The Millionaire and his Maid Series
Follow me on Twitter or my mailing list for updates!
If You Liked This Story…
Please consider leaving a review on Amazon! Don’t forget to recommend this story to your naughty reader friends!
Want more delicious stories? Updates to your favorite characters from past stories? Sign up for Daisy’s newsletter to stay up to date with her new stories, updates, advanced reader opportunities and more:
www.DaisyJane.com
Also by Daisy Jane
My Best Friend’s Dad
Only on Sundays
Pleasing the Pastor
Waiting for Coach
On His Table
The Virgin Tutor
The Professor
The Waitress and the Cop