DON’T HURT MY BABY

by Zoey Parker

  The thought sent something rippling through me that I couldn’t quite explain. But it was fierce.

  “Thank you,” I muttered into her ear, then pressed a sweet kiss to her fair cheek.

  We stood like that for a long moment. I left my hands there, caressing her flat stomach, enjoying the way she felt in my arms as she continued to cook my steak. Slowly, she swayed her hips, moving against my crotch, reminding me that despite the strange tenderness I felt towards her, I was also a man, and I felt lust, too. I did my best to keep that lust at bay, but eventually, a groan slipped from my lips.

  I felt her shudder.

  “You’re a little overdressed for dinner,” she told me in a low, husky voice. “You should change.”

  My hands finally moved from her stomach and back down to her hips. I pressed her into me firmly this time and encouraged her movements against me. “Whatever the lady wants,” I murmured against her neck.

  She let out a soft, breathless laugh that sent ripples of heat through me. “I’ll remember you said that.”

  I nipped at her neck before I pulled away from her, aware of how I ached and of how suddenly cool the space where she’d been against my body was. I jerked my shirt up over my head in the middle of the kitchen and tossed it over my shoulder towards the hall. I’ll get it later, I told myself, focused on the beautiful woman in front of me. I undid my belt buckle and then popped open the button of my jeans. All the while my gaze was trained on her.

  That ruddy colored blouse exposed her shoulders, and the material was transparent enough that I could see there was no bra supporting her large breasts. She must have gotten rid of that earlier because I was sure I could see a bra beneath her shirt in the shop. The apron was cinched around her tiny waist, emphasizing her hourglass shape, and the little strings to the bow she’d tied it into hung down to graze along her ass.

  I stared at that smooth, round skin as it bounced a little with her movements.

  I kicked off my boots and sat to take off my socks, never tearing my eyes away from her. When I’d put them just outside the kitchen in the hall, I finally shoved my pants down and hung them over the back of one of the chairs shoved in at the small table I had set up. I was completely naked, and I was definitely ready for whatever she had in store for me. My cock jutted up proudly from between my legs, eager for her.

  “It’s ready,” she told me, sliding a steak onto a plate beside a baked potato. “Do you want some sour cream for your—” She broke off when she turned around to face me, plate in hand. Her eyes raked over me as though they could reach out and touch me physically. They dragged across my form, going over my chest and abs until they found my hardened cock. There they lingered.

  I saw her let out a shuddering breath, then she walked over to me carrying that plate. The apron just barely covered her breasts, or at least her nipples, because I could see ample side boob from beneath her sheer blouse and the edges of that apron. Her heels clicked on the floor as she approached and then she stepped her right foot to the outside of my leg. The left one she threw to the outside and then she lowered herself, straddling my lap. My cock ended up between us.

  “Mm, that’s much better, don’t you think?” she purred out, her hands going to my shoulders and caressing them lightly. “Much more comfortable?”

  My hands went behind her back and undid that damn apron. I jerked it over her head and tossed it aside, pleased to see her nipples were visible through the fabric. They were hardened pebbles already, proudly pushing against the sheer material. “I don’t know. I’m pretty uncomfortable right now. Think you can help me with that?”

  Her cherry red lips spread into a wicked smile. “You know, I’m not sure what to do. I’ve got some ideas though; guess I’ll have to try them all out until I find the right one.”

  I only raised an eyebrow at her in question, letting her do as she liked.

  She leaned forward and kissed my collarbone. I felt her pink tongue flick out and lick the skin there, a velvety feeling that sent a shudder through me. But she didn’t linger there for long. She kept moving, kissing along my shoulders and my chest. She slid back down my legs until she was resting on my knees rather than my lap—all so she could continue to kiss down my body.

  My cock jumped as her lips continued to press against my skin, extra soft. I felt the silky fabric of her blouse caressing my length and noticed when her breasts slid on either side of my member.

  Finally, she could go no farther. She got off of my lap, and I might have protested if she didn’t get down on her knees in front of me instead, settling between my legs. Her big blue eyes looked up at me from beneath full lashes, and she grinned. She let out a soft sigh against my cock, making me groan. She hadn’t even put her lips on me, yet I felt ready to explode.

  Don’t come in her mouth, I told myself. Not that I didn’t want to, but it seemed kind of rude given that she was being so damn sweet to me.

  Her little tongue flicked out and tasted my head, swirling around the tip. It sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I cursed between gritted teeth. She looked pretty pleased by that. Her mouth opened wide and I got to watch as she popped my head into her mouth, her ruby red lips circling my cock.

  “Fuck, baby,” I hissed out, putting my hands behind my head so I couldn’t tangle them in her hair. I was worried that if I did that, I’d just shove her the rest of the way down my length until I hit the back of her throat.

  The thought alone was enough to make me pulse with need.

  Her mouth was warm and wet as she slid slowly forward to take more of me into it. I felt her tongue slide beneath me along the vein there as she swallowed me. It was a wonderful, velvety sensation and it was driving me absolutely nuts. I wanted to jerk my hips up and shove into her the rest of the way but resisted the urge.

  Finally, she swallowed until I hit the back of her throat. “Oh shit, that’s fucking good,” I told her, gritting my teeth and digging my fingers into my own hair, so I didn’t start tugging on hers. “I can’t believe how much you can swallow.”

  She hummed around me, pleased with the compliment. She pushed just a little more in, coughed, then pulled back. Her spit covered my length as more of me slipped out of her mouth. Eventually, she only had the head between her rosy lips. She sucked, then swirled her tongue around the tip, then she moved back down my shaft until I once again hit the back of her throat.

  I gasped; she moved again.

  She repeated this over and over again, her tongue swirling around my head and the underside of my shaft. Her mouth swallowing me until I hit the back of her throat. Then she’d pull back and repeat.

  It was driving me crazy, and I felt my self-control slipping. Either I was going to have to pull out of her mouth and bury myself in her sweet, tight little pussy, or I was going to start bucking into her mouth until I spilled myself down her throat. And as appealing as that was, I thought maybe that was a little too rough for my beautiful girl.

  “Baby, you’re gonna have to stop,” I ground out.

  She paused, looking up at me. There was a moment where she looked almost hurt, like maybe I hadn’t been enjoying this.

  I groaned. “If you don’t, I’m going to shove my dick as deep as I can into that pretty little mouth of yours until I come down your throat. So, either let me do that or stand up and bend over so I can bury myself between those gorgeous legs of yours.”

  Her eyes flashed and, for a moment, she just remained still. She left my cock in her mouth, my tip touching the back of her throat. Almost like she wasn’t sure which of my proposed scenarios she liked more. Almost like she wouldn’t mind swallowing what I had to give her.

  Oh fuck. I imagined letting myself go and spilling in her until there was more than she could swallow. I pictured it dripping from her lips and nearly lost control.

  But then she pulled back, letting her tongue slip over my veiny length. The head of my dick popped out of her mouth, saliva connecting the two for a second longer. Then she licked he
r lips. “Salty,” she said, low and sultry. Then she stood, that ridiculous excuse for a shirt showing her full, round tits in a shade of deep red and revealing that lacy thong I’d bought her earlier.

  “Take that off before I tear it off you,” I growled at her, motioning towards her thong.

  Her blue eyes darkened with clear lust, and her breath caught. The promise of ripping her clothing off had apparently turned her on, but her hands went to the waistband of her panties just the same. She tugged them over her hips, letting them drop around her heels on the floor.

  Still seated, I made a motion for her to turn around. “Bend over,” I commanded.

  Biting her cherry red lower lip, she nodded and turned. Her hands went to the table, palms flat, and she bent over. She bent so low that her breasts were pressing against the counter, her back arched and her curved, firm ass jutting out towards me.

  Only then did I stand. I moved right behind her, reaching out my hand to caress her round cheeks. She shivered at my touch as I caressed her soft flesh, letting my hand slip between her cheeks and down between her legs. I felt that she was wet, the moisture coating my hand.

  I groaned as my cock twitched. I needed to be inside of her. Now.

  I positioned myself between her legs and used one hand to spread her lips open. I nestled the head of my dick between them. She shuddered at the contact. “What do you say?” I prompted, pausing for half a second.

  “Please,” she breathed out.

  I slammed into her, and she screamed out, not holding back this time. We weren’t in a store, and if anyone had a problem with the sounds she was making, they could take it up with me.

  “Fuck, baby, you’re tight,” I told her, the feeling of being sheathed inside her sending ripples through me.

  I found my rhythm quickly, pulling out and pushing into her again with a hurried speed. She seemed to always be pushing my desire to the next level, and after that teasing moment where her mouth did its best to swallow me whole, I knew I was too close to try a slow fuck today.

  My pelvis slammed against her ass as I gripped her hips for leverage. The whole time she moaned and begged, making delicious mewling sounds that only spurred on my need for her.

  “Oh, Asher,” she murmured as I buried myself in her as deep as I could go, bottoming out inside of her.

  “Jesus, you feel amazing,” I ground out, pulling back and slamming into her again. I felt my pleasure peak and knew there was nothing I could do to prolong this further. I jerked into her several more times, my orgasm ripping through me as I cried out her name and spilled myself inside of her.

  I slumped back into my chair, pulling her sweaty body with me, so she sat on my lap. I felt myself softening inside of her, the remnants of my pleasure making me feel drugged and so damn good that I didn’t want to let her go. “Hell of a welcome home,” I murmured against her back, placing small kisses there.

  She giggled. “I wanted to make sure you knew how much I appreciated what you’ve done for me.”

  I rubbed small circles on her hips with my thumbs. “Oh, I definitely know. No doubt.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Caroline

  I’d had more sex in the last couple of months than my last semester at school. Hell, more than my last year at school, if I were being really honest. It wasn’t that I was a prude, but unlike my rather promiscuous friends, I didn’t go home with whoever I thought was decently attractive that night.

  Sex was good, but I preferred consistency over novelty. While Rochelle liked to say that this was the time to try out as many guys as possible before settling down with whoever Daddy picked out in the end, I was of the opinion that it was a better idea to keep a guy around for a while. Sure, I had the occasional one-night stand, but I knew the risks of things like that—now more than ever—and erred mostly on the side of caution.

  Which was really my problem in the end. I hadn’t found a guy I liked enough to keep around long enough to have consistent sex, and it left me a little wanting in that particular department.

  Until recently.

  I eyed the man standing across from me. He was towel drying his hair, causing it to stick up in thick spikes over the top of his head.

  He’d just gotten out of the shower and was looking especially tasty. I blamed most of my insatiable lust on the fact that I was already a couple of months pregnant since what little research I’d done told me that some expectant mothers felt a kick in their sex drive. And I already had a pretty healthy sex drive to begin with.

  Before my thoughts could unravel like a ball of yarn, Asher told me we were going to a cookout.

  My eyebrows rose in surprise. “A cookout?” I repeated.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Winston’s idea.” He hesitated, glancing over at me, but then looking away quickly again. “He, uh, said he’d like you to come. You must have made quite the impression on him.”

  I laughed a little at that. “I met him for, like, two seconds.”

  Asher shrugged his broad shoulders, causing the muscles to ripple across his back and arms. He was only just now pulling on his jeans, so his chest was still bare. He looked good enough to eat. Shaking my head a little to clear the cloud of increasingly dirty thoughts, I focused on his mouth and the way his lips formed the words. “You win or lose Winston in two seconds. That’s just how he is.”

  I raised a single eyebrow at him, propping myself up on one elbow, so my body curved in all the right places. I was still lying in bed, a sheet haphazardly draped across my otherwise naked body. I knew I was tempting him, teasing him even, but I couldn’t really make myself care. “What if someone just makes a really bad first impression?”

  He looked over at me. He noticed how I was laying, how the sheet was slipping to expose my full breasts and the way my legs were exposed up to the upper thigh. His eyes raked over me almost hungrily, and I wondered if he was going to have to take another shower this morning.

  “It’s not about impressions,” Asher insisted, though his voice had dropped into a deep bass. “Winston swears that he can tell what kind of person you are in only a minute. He hasn’t been wrong yet.”

  “I see. And he decided he liked me?”

  Asher nodded, his eyes still lingering on the curves of my body. “Yes. It’s a good thing; trust me.”

  I smiled sweetly and then pushed myself up into a full sitting position. The result was the sheet falling from my breasts to pool around my hips. Asher’s eyes watched with rapt attention. I swung my legs out and over the bed, letting my bare feet slip into the carpet for a moment before I stood.

  With a deliberate sway of my hips, I sauntered over to him. He’d managed to pull a shirt on over his head, unfortunately, but I didn’t let the fabric deter me. My hands went to the hem of his shirt and snaked beneath it, sliding over the hot skin there.

  I felt his muscles tense, and he took a quick breath, holding it for a moment. “I just got out of the shower,” he managed to get out, but even that was a husky tone that belied his desire.

  I shrugged, unconcerned. “You should have thought of that earlier.”

  He groaned, but quickly shucked off his shirt and helped me shove his pants back down. He was hard for me. His mouth found mine, and he kissed me until I felt like I was on fire. We stumbled into the bathroom together and found the hot shower. Once there, he didn’t seem all that worried about having just taken one.

  We fucked for the rest of the morning, and I ended up taking a long nap afterward. When I woke again, there was a note on the table by the bed.

  Gone to work. You’re fucking sexy. I want you naked when I come home.

  I laughed at it and fell back into bed, happier than I had been in a long, long time.

  ***

  Despite Asher’s note, I didn’t spend all day just lounging around naked. I actually got dressed in a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt I stole from his closet. It was huge on me but comfortable, and it smelled like him, which I found oddly appealing just then. I padded down
stairs to grab my phone.

  Reaching for it, I quickly scanned it for missed calls or texts. There was one text from Asher: Don’t forget the cookout. Six tonight. It wasn’t the only one though. There were about fifteen different texts after that one. Five were from Rochelle, three from Mia. Two more from Mrs. Hadley, my dad’s assistant, who he was likely but not definitely sleeping with. And the rest were from my dad.

  “Wow, he’s desperate enough to text me,” I mumbled to the empty kitchen.

  My dad didn’t text to save his life. It was purely a last resort and was usually reserved for trying to “get the younger vote” during election years. I rolled my eyes but skipped down to his messages first anyway.