Cocky AF: A Secret Baby Forbidden Romance

by Katie Ford

  “Fuck!”

  My cunt gushed all over Mason’s cock. The heavy fluid rocked him into orgasm because seconds later, he was pumping into me furiously, roaring my name.

  “Katie! Katie! Katie!”

  And then the billionaire slumped over me, spent. Slowly, he sat up and pumped his cock over my belly, leaving me covered in sticky cum. Gripping his cock, he swatted it against my pussy lips a few times sending pleasure radiating through me.

  But they weren’t done yet because Tyler jerked his dick from my mouth and rolled me over and onto my knees. Without preamble he pushed his huge cock inside.

  “Motherfucker!” was his roar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  He buried his head in my back, gripping my hips tightly. That fat dick swelled causing me to tighten even more around him.

  “You’re so fucking small,” came his rasp.

  Since he hadn’t started moving within me yet, it gave me time to brace myself on my hands and knees so I could take whatever he was about to deliver. Something told me that Tyler wouldn’t be so gentle. The cum deposits that Kane and Mason had made were now running down my thighs. Tyler rocked his hips into me, as he remained pressed to my back a few seconds longer.

  My eyes had been closed, savoring the feel of his pulsing dick, when something rubbed against my lips. Opening my eyes, I found Kane on his knees in front of me with his cock in his hand, waiting for me to open my mouth to him. My lips parted to admit his already weeping cock. He groaned and slowly fucked my mouth, fisting his hand in my hair to hold me in place.

  Tyler began to move his cock in and out of me as he ground his hips after each thrust. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.

  “Mmmph.” The incoherent scream was muffled by Kane’s enormous cock being rammed down my throat. Suddenly, my body tensed for a minute, as it was introduced to a new sensation. As Tyler’s cock worked my pussy, his finger rubbed around the ring of my asshole, stroking the sensitive pleats.

  “Your little asshole likes that, doesn’t it? Makes you feel good, huh little slut?”

  At first it was so foreign, but gradually I lost myself to the euphoria he was creating in my body. My ass pushed back onto his finger, causing the tip of his thumb to penetrate my virgin asshole. The feeling made me cream harder on his dick.

  “Yeah, your asshole wants to take dick doesn’t it? Next time, I’m going to stretch this pucker open and make you cum so hard.” He kissed my back and kept fucking me. My snatch wept all over his cock at those words. Fuck yes, I wanted his cock in my ass!

  Both men had me so full; there was nowhere I could go. Tyler’s cock was thicker than Kane’s or Mason’s and dragged along every inch inside my cunt as he shoved himself deep inside me.

  “Does. That. Dick. Feel. Good?” Each thrust punctuated a word.

  My moan made Kane’s pole throb in my mouth. His cock was lodged in the back of my throat, both his hands holding my head in place for his enjoyment.

  “Milk my cock, Katie!” he growled.

  I sucked him harder and felt his hips stop moving as he held himself in place, enjoying the feel of my lips and tongue taking him beyond control.

  Mason rejoined our group by sticking his head under my bobbing tits. He took my hard nipple between his teeth and gently bit, flooding me with even more pleasure, if that was possible.

  “Your tits are so perfect.”

  Then he swiped the flat of his tongue across it before he suckled as much as he could into his mouth, his tongue swirling, tasting and sucking like he was enjoying a good meal. Mason groaned around a mouthful of my breast as he jacked off.

  My focus returned to Kane as he began furiously fucking my mouth. He was close to another orgasm. Right before his balls exploded, he pulled his cock from my mouth and began pumping it. His jizz released in spurts, hitting my chin and covering my lips. I licked his cream from my mouth, enjoying the taste of him. Ropes of cum coated the lower half of my face. His semi-hard dick bobbed up and down in front of my face as it continued to ooze cum. He rubbed his semi-hard cock once more across my lips. I licked at the slit on the tip, tasting his spunk. My action made him throw his head back and moan in ecstasy.

  Nudging my thighs further apart with his hand, Tyler didn’t break his rhythm. With my pussy stretched further open he could thrust even deeper. His punishing strokes felt so good. He was grunting, gripping my hips and ramming his cock hard into my vaginal canal. My insides quivered around his rod and then I felt him explode inside me.

  “Holy shit!”

  He continued moving his hips as he deposited his load inside my snatch. His spasms shook his body as the never-ending stream of cum flooded my body and leaked out where are bodies were joined.

  My clit was engorged with need. Now that Kane’s dick no longer resided in my mouth, I made my demands known.

  “Rub my clit!” My breathy moans grew even louder as Tyler’s fingers found my hard little nub and began to play with it to bring it out of hiding. He was still lodged firmly inside my slick channel. I started grinding my pussy on his cock, wanting every bit of friction and stimulation possible.

  “Cum for me! Coat my dick in your juice!” He leaned over and spoke low in my ear, riding me until my hips bucked against him and I came hard, squirting and spraying my cunt juice all over his stiff cock. It was the hardest I’d cum all night and I knew it was due to all the stimulation my body enjoyed. Tyler pulled his cock from my channel and replaced it with his mouth.

  “So delicious! Your pussy juice is like an elixir,” he said as he caught the spray of cunt juice that squirted out of my vag as my orgasm continued to erupt from my body. His tongue lapped up every drop he could. Our mingled cum ran down my inner thigh. My legs trembled in an effort to keep holding my body upright. I was spent.

  Mason released my nipple with a soft pop and quickly turned me over on the plush carpet so I was lying on my back. He vigorously pumped his cock over my chest until cum jetted out, landing across my belly and boobs. Tiny grunts fell from his lips as he worked his hand over his dick.

  “Fuck me! That felt good!”

  My pussy was filled to overflowing with three loads of their spunk and it was heaven. Our scents mingled in the air and I inhaled deeply. Everywhere my skin was slicked with evidence of the orgy we’d just enjoyed. I couldn’t move for a moment. My body still pulsed with want. Was it possible that I could still crave more after they’d just made me cum three times?

  “Did you enjoy that good fucking?” Kane’s velvety voiced asked me.

  “Yes.” My voice trembled with desire and lust. I would never forget tonight. These alphas had done things to my body that would be forever ingrained in my mind and in my flesh. I was filled, sated, and fucked so good by the three hottest men ever.

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  Six Ways to Sin

  ~A Reverse Harem Romance~

  © 2017

  By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford

  Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  SIX WAYS TO SIN: A Reverse Harem Romance

  I’m a flight attendant who does more than drinks.

  I work for the hottest private charter company on the East Coast.

  It’s an amazing job with incredible perks.

  But even more enticing are the passengers.

  Because every single one is a billionaire.

  Tall, dark and handsome.

  Dominating as sin.

  Charming and possessive.

  As for me?

  Well, I’m a shy girl.

  Plump and curvy, pushing the drink cart.

  Except this job brings out my deepest desires.

  Because there’s Damien on t
he Dallas flight.

  Charlie on the Chicago leg.

  Nick in New York.

  Aaron and Andrew in Atlanta.

  And Tom in Texas.

  The billionaires don’t know about each other.

  Or so I hope.

  Because when they find out …

  How many ways can you say sin?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Joanie

  I took a big breath in and let it out in a short burst, hands on my hips, Superwoman style. My aunt once told me that it’s a power pose, that people perk up and listen when you have an air of command.

  But no such luck. The pose didn’t make me feel any more confident. In fact, it made me feel weird and uncomfortable because I was interviewing for a job as a flight attendant, nervous as hell.

  Being a stewardess wasn’t my first career choice, not really. But for several reasons it ended up being a good option. I just had to nail my first interview in order to get my career started. No biggie, right?

  But my first appointment wasn’t going well. An older woman greeted me with a tight French twist and pruney, pursed lips. She looked me over like she was reviewing a modeling portfolio. If the lady hadn’t been sixty and female, I might have felt ogled. Well, age and gender notwithstanding, I felt pretty ogled anyways.

  The woman’s eyes were sharp, not missing any details.

  “Just the right size for a flight attendant,” she noted, scribbling something on my application form. That was a weird comment for sure. I mean, flight attendants can’t be super tall because of the ceiling height in commercial planes, but still. Speaking your thoughts out loud was strange.

  Plus, the way her eyes sized up my figure was a little disconcerting. Again, I think there are weight restrictions for stewardesses, but with this kind of once over, I felt like a prize cow at the County Fair. Not a great feeling.

  Because I’ve never been a skinny girl. With Double D breasts and ample hips, sometimes squeezing through the narrow aisles of a plane can be tough. There’s more than a little junk in the trunk back there, and half the time I was afraid I’d hit some poor passenger’s head.

  But dieting doesn’t work for me. I tried that whole South Beach thing, but it was a bust. Food has always been my go to, and the more I tried to diet, the more nervous I got. The more nervous I got, the more I ate. Go figure.

  But the interviewer had no idea. She looked me up and down again, eyes narrow, missing nothing. And then with a harrumph, she pronounced, “You’re hired.”

  I gasped.

  “Really? No-no questions for me?” came my stammer.

  The lady looked down at her clipboard, reviewing my application once more.

  “Everything on here is accurate, isn’t that so?” she asked. “You signed a statement certifying its validity.”

  I nodded dumbly. That was true. But what interviewer doesn’t ask questions?

  The woman merely nodded again, clearly impatient.

  “Welcome to Elite Air,” came her clipped words. “Uniform fitting will be on Monday. Come back to the conference hall and the tailors will set you up.”

  I nodded dumbly. Hey, I was gonna get a paycheck, and it seemed wise to keep my questions to a minimum. But one small one escaped my lips.

  “Um, should I try to slim down?” I asked hesitantly. “For the uniform fitting? I can lose a lot in a week,” were my rushed words, although that was patently untrue. “I know the aisles on the plane must be narrow.”

  The woman lowered her brows, frowning

  “Absolutely not,” was her declaration. “There’s plenty of space on board, you’ll see.”

  Thunderstruck, my head nodded. I thought airplanes were regulation sized. We’d practiced on a bunch of models during stewardess school, and there wasn’t a lot of room on any of the commercial aircraft.

  But nodding again, I agreed.

  “Okay,” came my soft voice. “Monday it is then.”

  And dazed, I stepped outside onto the sidewalk, the glare on the sidewalks blinding. Who was Elite Air? Or what was it? I’d done some googling but there wasn’t much information on-line. The website said it was a private fleet catering to billionaires and famous people. Wow. Like Elon Musk or handsome George Clooney types? That sounded great.

  But real life isn’t filled with George Clooneys. You’d be lucky to meet even one George Clooney in your lifetime. More likely, it was seventy year old gazillionaires who had dozens of grandchildren. That was okay. I don’t mind families at all, and kids have always made me smile. And besides, there was the paycheck. The annual salary and benefits were amazing, almost double that offered by other airlines. It’d be ridiculous to pass up this opportunity.

  So the next Monday, I showed up again. And sure enough, a seamstress was on hand, taking my measurements, nodding here while pinning there. And after ten minutes, we were done. I was dressed in my first uniform, ready to fly.

  But this wasn’t your regular stewardess outfit, with a dowdy cardigan and knee length skirt. Instead, it was seriously cute. Even sexy, come to think of it. The navy dress was form fitting in all the right places, with a modest décolletage that showed off my ample bust. There was an adorable matching pillbox hat, and a blue scarf with red dots to tie around my neck. The whole look was retro and jaunty and I fell in love with it immediately.

  My interviewer, Helena, materialized out of nowhere, scrutinizing me in the dress. No hello, no how are you’s. Instead, she addressed her words to the seamstress.

  “Perfect,” came her clipped voice. “The men will love it.”

  The men?

  What did that mean?

  But I guess it was possible. There are certainly more male billionaires in the world than female.

  And with that, I was done. Ushered into a large hangar, my breath caught. Because holy moly, the G6 was nothing like the planes we’d practiced on during stewardess school. It was sleek and aerodynamic, gleaming in the giant warehouse space.

  And inside, things got even better. There was no narrow galley kitchen or cramped economy seats upholstered in polyester weave. Instead, the kitchen was full-size, complete with an oven and microwave. And there were no economy seats on this flight period. Instead, six plush chairs stood inside the cabin, upholstered in spotless white leather, creamy and inviting. If it were me, I’d be afraid to sit in them, sure I’d spill something somehow.

  But that’s my job.

  I’m an elite air hostess.

  I don’t spill things anymore.

  Not champagne, not nuts, and definitely not on the customer.

  So I looked around, trying to calm my heart. But it was hard because the plane was just so luxurious. A flat screen TV rose from the floor, a bouquet of fresh flowers adding to the air of luxury. And if my eyes weren’t mistaken, there was closed door leading to a bedroom in back, complete with en suite fixtures.

  Wow. Holy smokes. This was way beyond my wildest dreams. Slightly trembling, I made my way back to the front of the cabin. Ah ha, this was more like it. The staff restroom behind the cockpit was small and utilitarian, but even that was nicer than average. I thanked my lucky stars. What did I do to deserve this job? This was going to be cakewalk. All I had to do was wait on some rich people on a nice plane, rather than dealing with the masses on an aging commercial aircraft.

  But there was no time to waste. Time is money in this industry, so I sprang to work, getting the warm nuts and champagne together. This was a job worth keeping, and I wanted to make a good impression my first day.

  My eyes studied the manifest as the almonds warmed. Hmm, a man named Damien Dawson was our only passenger on today’s flight. My head shook with disbelief. Some people were so rich that they took solo flights, uncaring of the cost. Incredible.

  And suddenly, voices sounded below, deep and melodious. Oh no, Mr. Dawson was here. But it was okay, everything was ready. The nuts were ready in their ramekin, the bubbly poured. My belly rumbled a little with nerves, but I slapped a professional smile onto my
lips. Appearances mean everything when you’re flying elite.

  And suddenly, he appeared. My breath caught because all the air exited the small plane, my lungs squeezed for oxygen. Unbelievably, Damien Dawson was better looking that George Clooney. Tall. Huge. With a head of perfect black hair and crystal blue eyes. The kind of eyes that could make a girl forget how to use real words, which unfortunately, was happening to me now.

  But something made it out of my throat, even if I sounded like a strangled frog.

  “Welcome aboard,” came my words. “Welcome, Mr. Dawson. I’m Joanie. I’ll be your flight attendant today.”

  The man didn’t appear to hear. Well, he did, but only with the slightest nod my way. No matter. I’d been warned that our clientele consisted of the powerful businessmen, and they were busy guys. Mr. Dawson was probably busy thinking of his next acquisition, or his next takeover and not some meek, shy flight attendant.

  No problem. They were handling billions of dollars, whereas my greatest worry was if the nuts were the right temperature. There was no need to be offended if they ignored me.

  After all, a job is a job.

  As the billionaire fastened his seatbelt, I stepped forwards carrying the almonds and a glass of champagne. The man declined them both with a wave of his hand and a strange gleam in those blue eyes.

  “Can I get you a newspaper then?” I asked sweetly, smiling my best smile.

  “No,” came that terse word.

  Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

  “Okay,” I replied graciously. “I’ll check back in as soon as we get to cruising altitude.”

  And soon, we were off. The bird rose into the sky smoothly, sleekly, like it was propelled by a gust of wind and not jet fuel. Wow, money really made a difference. This G6 was amazing.