Game Changer: A Single Dad/Nanny Romance (Change of Hearts Book 1)

by Sierra Hill

  “Can you feel this?” I ask through a husky filter.

  My cock throbs at the juncture of her thighs, as I pant and rock against her, the friction creating sparks and flames.

  “You do this to me, Brooklyn. You make me want you. I want nothing more than to be inside you again. But I can go slow. We don’t have to do anything tonight if that’s not what you want.”

  Brooklyn props herself up on her elbows, the movement lifting her head and also pushes her bare breasts toward me, as I swipe a wet path over the lush curves and valley of her chest.

  “I don’t need slow. I just want you, Garrett. Don’t hold back.”

  She takes pity on me, dropping a hand between us and scoring her nails over my bulging length, increasing the level of pain in my balls, but sending pleasure rippling up my spine. I grit my teeth before I kiss her hard and deep, devouring her mouth in gratitude.

  My tongue explores her mouth, lips sucking and licking her swollen lips, as she squirms against me, seeking friction against her sex. Lifting her in a swift movement, my hands cupping her firm ass, she clings to me with arms around my neck and legs wrapped at my waist.

  Her teeth clamp down on my earlobe, the slick sound of her tongue tracing the shell of my ear. God, who knew the ear could be so erotic? The throbbing in my cock becomes almost unbearable, my balls are so full and hot with the need to spill myself inside her.

  My hands seek the delicate flesh of her backside, fingers sliding over the smooth, round cheek and burrowing under the edge of her panties. I trace a teasing path over the wet center of her panties, wet with arousal, her gasp telling me she enjoys it.

  “Lay back, sweetheart.” As she lays out over the car, her legs spread wide, her dusty-rose nipples hard and pointing to the sky, I tremble with the need to taste her. To inhale her scent. To devour her skin.

  I fling the dress skirt up over her knees, exposing her creamy thighs and giving me the perfect view of her sexy nude-colored panties. I dip my head and flick my tongue over her navel, then draw a wet line up the soft expanse of skin to her breast, taking a nipple between my teeth and sucking hard.

  “Oh God, Garrett,” she moans, arching her back. “Don’t make me wait. I’m so wet for you. Take me now.”

  Jesus, this girl. This woman.

  I watch in complete and utter awe as she slides her panties down her legs, kicking them off with a flick of her foot, and then slipping her own finger inside her pussy with a moan. I’m transfixed on what’s happening, my eyes locked in on the action between her legs. She swirls her finger and bucks against her hand as I stare in a heated gaze.

  “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

  Her eyes peel open and she gives me a dirty little smirk. “I want to watch you, too. I heard you once before. That night outside your bedroom. It turned me on so much I had to touch myself.”

  I drop my head back, shutting my eyes at her sexy confession. Groaning at its implication.

  “Like this?” I ask, ripping my slacks down and off my legs and palming my erection poking up through the waistband of my briefs.

  Her breathy reply is my undoing. “Yes, just like that.”

  I can barely stand upright and consider for a moment picking her up and taking her inside to bed, but this is too hot seeing her across my car, finger fucking herself with a blissful smile across her parted lips. I want to fall to the floor in worship over this beautiful young woman who came into my life so unexpectedly and has turned my world on its head.

  My mouth salivates with lust from her scent. I crave everything she has to offer – her wit, her intelligence, and her sex appeal. I yank at my own waistband, my cock springs free, as I begin to stroke hard and fast.

  “Help me,” she coaxes, reaching for my other hand not otherwise occupied by my dick.

  “I want to make you come. Tell me what you need.”

  “I want you inside me.” She demonstrates with the slide of her own finger through her slit.

  I let my gaze wander down between her legs as she spreads her legs wider and my tongue lolls out of the corner of my mouth. All I see are pretty pink folds, glistening wet with her arousal.

  With my cock in my hand, I lean over her body, the material of her dress rucked up around her middle, and I lick at her lips before kissing her deeply. Our kiss grows in intensity, savoring the sounds and flavors and tastes of one another, as I slide the head of my dick through her folds, grinding my pelvis over hers, creating erotic tension with our bodies.

  “Brooklyn we should be more careful this time,” I try to say with conviction, knowing we should probably use a condom this time, even though being bare inside her was so incredibly intense and fantastic.

  “If you feel more comfortable with that, yes. But I’m okay if you’re okay. I’m on birth control and safe.”

  The heat of her pussy beckons me, calls me in like a siren to a lost and weary traveler.

  Brooklyn lays out before me now, gloriously ready, offering me her body and trusting me to do what’s right.

  I’m fascinated by Brooklyn’s sensuality and the way she responds without bashfulness or inhibition. With Brooklyn, she seems very open to it all. No fear or aversion to what might seem outside the boundaries.

  “Oh, Christ,” I sputter, my hard cock slicked from her heat, as I slide through her folds once again before positioning my cock at her entrance. And then I’m sliding into her heat and nearly black out from the pleasure.

  Brooklyn tenses for a moment and I halt mid-thrust. “You okay?”

  “Mmm, yes.”

  I’m lost in the sensation and the way her eyes narrow in lustful desire as I enter her.

  With one hand on the car to hold me up, I circle her thigh with the other, locking her leg around my back and giving me leverage to fuck. I suck a nipple in my mouth, and on an upstroke of my cock, Brooklyn gasps loudly, wiggling her hips, thighs quaking. She reaches around and grabs my ass, running her hand up the curve of my glutes and digs in hard with her nails, positioning me where she needs it more.

  “Yes, right there. Right the….” And then she’s moaning out what I presume to be a powerful orgasm, the sensations washing over her beautiful face, mouth lax and body rigid until all the tension leaves and her body succumbs to post-coital relaxation.

  I give her a crooked sexy smile.

  “You’re looking pretty satisfied there, sweetheart.”

  She circles her hips, digs in her heels and presses them into my backside to push me deeper within her body.

  Fuck, that feels good.

  “I am pretty satisfied. Now it’s your turn.”

  I bury my laugh in the crook of her neck. “As you wish.”

  24

  Brooklyn

  I wake from the most sensual dream I’ve ever had.

  Rolling to my side, I realize it wasn’t a dream after all, but happens to be my current reality and all the explicit images of what we did together last night flash through my thoughts, signaling the now tell-tale sign of desire and the pull low in my belly at how perfect it was with Garrett.

  Our connection was frenetic, sparking potent and hot currents of electricity even now, without so much as a touch. In fact, my skin has erupted into feverish shivers where his mouth and hands explored me last night. My inner muscles clenching in recollection of the powerful orgasm he gave me. And one that I want again.

  Garrett had never been more desirable to me as he was then, hair disheveled over his forehead, lips pursed firmly together, and head tipped back. Actually, no, I take that back. He’s a different level of desirable when he’s with his son when the love he has for Caleb spills over in his smile and soft brown gaze.

  I can’t help but think how lucky I am to have found someone like Garrett. A man so powerful, and sexy, who knew how to take care of me sexually, but doesn’t ever walk over me outside the bedroom. He’s exactly the man I want but haven’t found before now.

  As I lay in bed, curled up next to him as I watch Garrett sleep, my eyes scan a
cross the smooth, broad expanse of his back, his body sprawled out on his stomach, taking up the majority of the bed, as I yearn to run my fingertips over his skin. With his face obscured by the pillow, head turned in the other direction, his soft snores erupt from his throat, like the sound of a far-off train, as he sleeps quietly, without a care in the world.

  I don’t know what his expectations are of me now that we’ve become intimate, but I do know I have some fears. Having sex with Garrett and sleeping with him last night isn’t the scary part. What terrifies me, and has been ingrained in my head since childhood, is how this type of intimacy with a man could mean losing myself and my independence. I pride myself on being a strong woman who has worked hard for myself and others, but who doesn’t lose sight of who I am and what I want. I won’t allow anyone else to dictate what I do or how I get there.

  Since the age of puberty when I became interested in the opposite sex, my very feminist mother continually reminded me (sometimes daily) that as a woman, I didn’t ever need a man. It was okay and my prerogative to want one, to be attracted to and committed to one, and even to love a man. But I should never be dependent on them to make me feel secure or relevant.

  It’s been my guiding principle for as long as I can remember, and one that at times has really tripped me up when I became involved with a guy. It’s the reason I’ve never been in a long-term relationship for fear of losing myself to a man. And to be fair, most of the men I’ve been with weren’t looking for a relationship, either.

  With Garrett, I feel like I’m on equal ground. Especially when it comes to working with his son. There have been no displays of machoism or male egotism. He’s regarded me with respect when I’ve offered my suggestions and ideas and never made me feel inferior. Although, dammit, we still argue daily about the companion dog. He keeps dragging his feet over it, even though I site all the positive reasons on record for owning a therapy and companion dog.

  Sweeping my feet out from underneath the sheet, I root around on the floor for something to wear. Finding Garrett’s discarded shirt, I slip it over my head and tiptoe out into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind me.

  Practically starving after last night’s physical workout, I pull out a pan and the eggs from the fridge, as my mother’s voice unconsciously filters through my head, her doubts she shared with me about this nanny job slipping in like a knife stabbing at my self-confidence.

  “Darling, this role is such a waste of your intelligence and education,” she’d said over the phone the day I accepted Garrett’s offer. “You’re a glorified babysitter and it could pigeonhole you into being this domestic house servant.”

  I grew irritated with her insulting description of my new job. “Mother, didn’t you employ the services of nannies and daycare help when Brayden and I were children? You relied on them to make sure we were well-cared for and looked after while you worked with your patients nine-to-five every day. Are you that much of an elitist to believe that nannies are inferior to us?”

  I knew my mom meant well and was only hoping I’d gain employment in a more clinical setting so I could learn more about therapy and child psychology, but her assumptions about this profession were inherently wrong and misguided, ultimately frustrating me.

  But since then, she’s changed her tune somewhat, as I’ve shared with her the things I’ve been able to accomplish through my daily one-on-one work with Caleb. His progress has been nothing short of amazing, even small things like his ablilty to pronounce simple words like yes, no and fine, allowing him a broader range of communication skills.

  I’m so involved in my own thoughts that I don’t hear Garrett come into the kitchen until the heel of his hand is between my legs, running a line up the inside of my thigh and skirting underneath the hem of the T-shirt. I love this part of a sexual relationship where this type of intimacy exists.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.” His words are as raspy as the scruff on his jaw that scrapes abrasively over the base of my neck.

  The contact induces goosebumps over my flesh, and I shiver from the scent of his minty breath and spicy maleness filling the air around me. His hard erection nudges me from behind and I instinctively push into it, the rush of excitement radiating through every cell in my body.

  “Morning,” I respond, turning my head to the side so I can kiss him as I slide my hand down between us and laugh when I encounter nothing but his warm, smooth skin. “Are you naked?”

  On an upstroke, I squeeze the crown of his cock as he pushes into my fist with a groan.

  “Yes, I am. My kitchen, my rules. And yes, that means I’m naked. Which is exactly how I want you.”

  Opening my mouth wider, he fills me with his tongue, sweeping inside and thoroughly ravaging me with his demanding kiss.

  When he pulls away, he clicks off the burner and tugs me to him with an arm wrapped securely around my waist, sliding it underneath the material. The hair on his arm tickles my tummy and I squirm into him.

  “Do you know how many mornings I’ve walked into this very kitchen and had to fight myself not to walk right back out for fear that you’d notice how hard I was for you?” He emphasizes this with a thrust of his bulge into my crease.

  “Hmm. No I don’t. Maybe you should show me how hard you are for me, Coach.”

  A deep, ferocious growl fills the kitchen as he spins me around, lifting me off my feet and onto the granite counter. I giggle, admiring the powerful strength he uses to hoist me up without breaking a sweat.

  “Oh, I’ll show you all right. I’ll demonstrate all the dirty, filthy things I want to do with you. You may just want to recant your request.”

  And then I’m on my back, staring up at that beautiful brass pot holder rack, as he places his mouth between my legs and begins to prove just how wickedly sexy his thoughts really are.

  25

  Garrett

  I was hard the minute I woke up and was on a mission to find her and bring her back to bed. But finding her in the kitchen wearing only my wrinkled shirt turned me savage to have her again.

  My gaze fixes on her pink and wet opening, as I position my hands at the juncture of her thighs, plying her folds with my fingers, opening her up to find her wet and eager for me. Using the flat of my tongue, I lick up her slit, swirling her swollen flesh, tasting her sweet arousal and salty flavor in the back of my throat.

  The sound of her intake of breath as I brush my bearded lips through her folds has my hips punching forward, seeking friction from something. Anything. It’s excruciating to go slow, but I know that teasing her in this manner will get her there faster than diving right in.

  Her eyelids flutter closed as I make a pass and swipe up her slit, circling my tongue over her sensitive nub. With a low growl of approval, I latch on to her clit and suck gently.

  “Please…more.”

  As the lady requests, I give her more. I continue to sweep my tongue and increase the intensity of my suction, until I slide a finger inside, curve it upwards and find her spot.

  “There…” she cries out, as I feel the walls of her pussy spasm against my fingers.

  I don’t wait another second. I slide her to the counter’s edge, spin her around on her stomach and lift her hips so her firm ass is tilted up.

  “This ass, sweetheart. It makes me want to do crazy things,” I mutter into her ear, smoothing a palm over the taut skin of her butt, before taking my aching cock in hand and slamming inside with a long groan.

  The momentum pushes her forward, as I pull her shoulders back in my grip, sending a gasp flying from her mouth.

  “Oh,” she moans, spreading her hands wide out in front of her, cheek flat on the countertop as I take control of our pleasure.

  “That’s right, Brooklyn. Take it all. Everything. I. Have. To. Give.” I punch my hips forward, thrusting to mark each word I growl.

  There’s so much I want to give Brooklyn that goes so much farther than just sex. But right now, I’m only capable of loving her in this way. This
burning physical promise of ecstasy and satisfaction.

  Curling my hand around the front of her body, I zero in on her clit, rocking my rigid shaft at an angle that has me seeing stars.

  I nearly come unglued when she moves her hand over mine, her fingers tangling together as we stroke her swollen flesh in unison.

  She’s wet and soft as satin. My restraint is limited, as the sense of urgency overtakes me, urging me closer to that precipice, my balls demanding release.

  “Brooklyn, I’m close. Should I pull out?”

  Her breath hitches as my dick hits a spot deep inside her walls. She lifts her head, body straightening, shifting back against my naked chest. A shake of her head as she twists her neck to kiss me open-mouthed has me nearly coming.

  “Yes.”

  Being inside Brooklyn’s pussy like this with no barrier is extremely dangerous and negligent on my part. While I trust her implicitly about being protected and safe, I’m more than a little skeptical after what I experienced with Penelope. Having an unwanted pregnancy flipped my world upside down and created a distrust that I can’t easily change.

  This situation with Brooklyn is completely different. I do trust her. I do care about her. I mean, for fuck’s sake, she lives in my home and is sleeping in my bed. Should I worry about whether she’s telling me the truth?

  Slipping my other hand around her front, I squeeze her firm breast, plumping the flesh as she arches into my hand.

  The moment I pinch her nipple, she goes off, trembling and quaking with mini spasms, her head dropping to bob languidly at her neck.

  My own release is imminent, balls tightening, hips snapping erratically until I feel the start of my orgasm climbing, climbing, climbing up my legs, my thighs tensing and spine tingling.

  My breath is labored and groans growing more and more desperate until finally, I tip my head back, pulling out from her tight heat and begin shooting hotly over her back and my stomach.