Christmas Daddies

by Jade West

  Michael closes his eyes and that says more than words.

  I really do have two very dirty daddies indeed. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I’m whimpering in Jack’s grip as my fingers tip me over the edge into orgasm, Mike’s dick pounding deep as I bounce, lost to everything but how fucking good it feels to be fucked by these two wonderful fucking men.

  “Fill her fucking up,” Jack grunts. “I’m ready for another fucking turn.”

  Michael hisses when he comes, teeth gritted and eyes wild as he shoots his cum nice and deep.

  “I hope this works,” I whimper. “The perfect end to a perfect fuck.”

  I squeak as Jack lifts me clean off Michael’s dick, barely having the chance to catch my breath before he guides me onto all fours with my belly hanging low.

  It squelches so fucking loud as he thrusts inside, his balls slapping my ass as I bounce right back at him.

  “Harder!” I squeal. “Harder, Jack! Fuck me!”

  And he does.

  Harder. Deeper. With a voice that’s straining as he grunts out his pleasure with every single slam of his hips.

  “My fucking turn,” Michael barks, and I feel them jostle behind me.

  One dick, then another, in turns that leave me ragged. Open wide then filled right up, my pussy squelching and spluttering as my two gorgeous guys claim me over and over.

  If this doesn’t work to fuck me into labour, I have no idea what will.

  It’s brutal. Messy. Loud.

  Amazing.

  I’m hissing and whimpering and coming with a desperate cry as those two fat cocks take me all the way.

  And then I feel it.

  The contraction.

  Enough to take my breath in a whole other fucking way.

  They freeze like statues as I tense up, their hands on my clammy skin as I gesture for them to hold back.

  “Fuck, ow!” I cry, and their hands circle my shoulders.

  “Fuck,” Jack comments. “I didn’t think this was actually going to fucking work.”

  And neither did I.

  “It could be another trial run,” Michael says, but I don’t think so. Not this time.

  I’m going to end up delivering this baby with two daddies’ cum still fresh inside me.

  That’ll be a treat for the midwife.

  When the wetness comes it comes hard, a flood so fast it sounds like a gush as it lands on the fabric between my legs.

  “Fuck,” all three of us say in unison, and this is really it.

  Really, really it.

  Michael’s pulling on his jeans even as his hand rubs the small of my back. Jack’s diving in his pocket for his phone even as I flick a glance over my shoulder.

  “I’m gonna have this baby in time for Christmas,” I tell them, like they don’t know already.

  Michael’s smile lights up the night.

  “Every Christmas present we could have ever wished for,” he tells me, and he’s right. It is.

  “Better call the midwife,” I say to Jack, but it’s pointless. He’s one step ahead, as always.

  There’s a strange moment of calm as I settle back down onto the sofa between my two men. I’m sure it will be short-lived, but for now I’ll take it.

  I take their hands along with it.

  “I know you’re gonna be the best daddies ever,” I tell them for the thousandth time.

  And I know they will be.

  They’ve already been the very best daddies for me.

  Acknowledgments

  As always there are so many of you to mention.

  John, you never let me down. That’s for pulling out all the stops with editing this one for me.

  Letitia, thank you for another incredible cover.

  Nadege – thank you for making the inside of the paperback look so pretty.

  Tracy, thank you for everything. I love your face.

  Louise, for the excellent beta feedback, as always.

  My dirty girls and guys in my reader group – you make me smile every day.

  Isabella – I’m so pleased you’re going to be in my company again when I hit publish. You know this is a regular thing now, right? Thanks for the formatting too. You are amazing.

  Demi, for pushing me onwards always.

  My amazing friends – Lisa, Maria, Dom, Sue, Hanni, Kate, Tom, Marie, Siobhan, Jo, Leigh, Willow, Lauren, James. <3

  My family – Mum, Dad, Nan and Brad – for being such an important part of this incredible journey I’m on.

  And Jon, for putting up with all my crazy and ridiculous sleeping hours.

  I love you all. <3

  Sugar Daddies

  Jade West

  Sugar Daddies copyright © 2016 Jade West

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  Cover design by Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs http://designs.romanticbookaffairs.com/

  Edited by John Hudspith http://www.johnhudspith.co.uk

  All enquiries to jadewestauthor@gmail.com

  First published 2016

  Chapter One

  Carl

  The envelope icon continued flashing at the bottom of the screen, but I ignored it, along with the lingering glances in my direction. Rick was exceptionally talented in many areas, but subtlety wasn’t one of them.

  He was twitchy, and it wasn’t from the copious amounts of coffee he’d been guzzling all evening, he was excited. Rick was usually excited, naturally wired with a high metabolism and the expressive kind of features you can read a mile off, but this was a special kind of excitement.

  It was endearing. Although I’d never tell him so.

  He pushed his chair away from his desk, spinning to face me, yet still I didn’t react.

  I enjoyed the game far too much.

  Our home office is intimate. The tension stretched until he broke, with a mock groan.

  “Well?! Have you looked?!”

  “No,” I said.

  “Pissing hell, Carl, will you just look? Please?”

  I angled my laptop screen down and stared at him, long and sternly, trying my best not to break a smile.

  “I’m busy. Foster proposal. Tender deadline tomorrow.”

  “Piss off. There’s always a deadline tomorrow. Five minutes, just check it out. I only need a yes. One little yes. She’ll get a yes, I promise.”

  I sighed for effect. “Who is it this time? Another Penelope Pout? I want a boob job, and an Audi TT and world peace? No, wait… Another broke but talented artistic genius, seeking true love on Sugar Daddy Match-up? You like those…”

  He coasted his chair across the floor, propped his elbows on my desk and jabbed a finger at my laptop. “Just look. She’s nothing like the others.”

  “You always say that.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, but I don’t always mean it.”

  I minimised my document and called up his email. Sugar Daddy Match-up! You have mail!

  I hovered over the link, then folded my arms. “So, give me the elevator pitch. Why this one?”

  He rolled his shoulders, tipped his head from side to side. “Elevator pitch, you got it.” He held up a finger. “She’s hot, like really hot. Not a Penelope Pout, no fake tan, no epic contouring, not even false lashes. She’s just hot. Cute, too.”

  “Blonde? Brunette?”

  “Blonde. Wavy. Natural. Blue eyes.”

  I nodded. “Go on.”

  “She’s local. Much Arlock.”

  “Local?” I conceded a point to him in the nam
e of convenience. Much Arlock was only a thirty-minute drive from Cheltenham. Hardly anything. “Ok, I’m listening.”

  “She’s a little bit quirky, in a good way. Not all-out boho, just… she has personality.”

  “I’d hope so, Rick. We want a companion, not a whore. Although a whore would be a whole lot cheaper.”

  “Like I said, she has personality. She seems nice. Funny.”

  I laughed. “You can tell that from her profile picture can you? Pulling the funky chicken is she?”

  “Just fucking look, will you?” He pushed his glasses back on his nose, and smoothed down his beard, eyes twinkling.

  Boho. Another one. Could I handle another trendy little free-spirit in the house? Probably. The thought didn’t altogether turn me off.

  I clicked the link, and Rick leaned over, angled my screen so he could share my view. I resigned myself to the inevitable apathy, another pretty face in the catalogue of pretty faces looking for a healthier bank account and a nice rich cock. Or two. Two on offer didn’t seem to hinder our success any. Far from it.

  The face that greeted me wasn’t out of any catalogue. Her hair was a cascade of natural blonde, tumbling over slender shoulders to rest at the curve of her vest top. Her eyes were alive and kind, pastel blue and full of mischief, and her smile was bright and genuine. A sweet little nose, with a sprinkling of freckles over glowing skin. Nice tits. Narrow waist. Long legs in faded denim, crossed under her as she leaned back, her palms splayed on the grass beneath.

  She was beautiful. Beautiful and different from the others, he was right. A seashell necklace and two gemstone bracelets were her only adornments.

  Bohemian, yes. But just a little.

  Rick gave me the overview, but it sounded distant.

  “Her profile says she’s twenty-two, not too young. Just about to finish up university. Worcester. Business degree. Still lives at home. Drives. Works two jobs. She’s outdoorsy, all-out natural, likes pizza and KFC, though. All the unhealthy stuff. Probably even likes service station sandwiches. You’ll get on well.”

  “We can’t all pull a PJ party and work from home every day. Your de-humidified little veggie snacks hardly cut a day on the road.” My voice came out dry as my tone got serious. “This one. Does she know? Is she… suitable?”

  I didn’t pull my eyes from the screen yet I knew he was rolling his.

  “Don’t start. She knows some of it.”

  “Some?”

  “Some. From our profile.”

  “So tell her the rest.”

  He groaned at me. “Listen up, Mr tell it like it is, we need time. She needs to get to know us. We haven’t even met her yet.”

  “Ok, so let’s meet her, and then we’ll tell her. Lay our cards flat on the table and see if hers match up.”

  He shook his head. “Six months, you promised.”

  “I promised three.”

  “You said six, after Nicole from Northampton ran screaming for the hills, you said six. You sat right there, just where you are now, and you promised six.”

  “Under duress. I’ve changed my mind.”

  He clapped his hands in front of my screen, forcing my attention. “Six, Carl. We’re going with six months this time. I mean it.”

  His tone tickled me. “Who died and made you Lord of Sugar Daddy dating? We all know who wears the trousers around here, Richard.” I smirked. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it that way.”

  “I’d like it a whole lot better if we managed to coax a three-way just a smidge beyond your boar-headed negotiations. This isn’t some sales deal. It’s about… people, Carl, people…”

  “It’s all about the soul, man…” I mocked. “I negotiate. That’s what I do.”

  “Not this time.” He shook his head. “Six months. Let me handle this one.” His eyes were like a puppy dog’s. “Please… just let me handle this one…”

  I scrolled down through the email. “Where’s the obligatory nude?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “No tit shot? Not even underwear?”

  He smiled. “Nope. Not a thing.”

  I was strangely impressed. “She does know we come as a pair, yes? She knows it’s two at once or not at all?”

  “She knows she will need to… accommodate…”

  “Such a delicate way of putting it. She’s happy with that, is she?”

  “It’s clear on our profile. She referred to it in her message. It’s pretty explicit… not slutty, she’s no tramp, but she’s… clear in her intentions…”

  A tickle of excitement ran through my balls.

  “…her name’s Katie, by the way.”

  Katie. It suited her.

  “Katie Serena Smith… and she’s keen…”

  I scrolled past her picture, to the message below.

  I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m sure almost every other message says the same, but I really mean it. I really have never done anything like this before… but I want to.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t on a sugar daddy website for the money, but I wasn’t expecting to find anyone close enough, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to find a profile like yours.

  I’ve fantasised about taking two men at once since I was old enough to know it was possible. You ask in your profile if I’ve experienced sex like this before, and I haven’t. I don’t know how it would feel to have two men inside me, and I don’t know that I’d find it easy, but I want to try.

  You ask if I’ve ever opened up enough to take two men in my pussy, and no, I haven’t, not even close, but I think about it every day since I read your profile.

  It’s taken me a while to pluck up the courage to message.

  But I’m ready now.

  I really want this.

  You ask what I want out of the arrangement, and I’m not really sure how to quantify it.

  I’m just a small town girl with big dreams, that’s why I’m on this site. But it isn’t just about the money. Not anymore.

  Katie. X

  Explicit but not slutty. No grandiose claims of riding two fat dicks all through the night. No graphic demonstration of her pussy-stretching capabilities, and we’d had plenty of those. No take me, big boys, take my tight little cunt, or, you’ve never known a pussy as hungry for two as mine. None of that.

  I tried to get a measure of Katie. “If she can’t quantify it, what does she want? Not college fees presumably, and she doesn’t look the type for a cosmetic surgery wish list.”

  He shrugged. “A small town girl with big dreams… who knows. That’s cute, though, right?”

  “Cute. Yes.”

  Rick’s grin showed his dimples. “She’s seriously cute. I think I’m in love already.”

  “With a declaration like that, how could I possibly say no?”

  “You wouldn’t say no anyway. You haven’t stopped staring at her.”

  Astute little asshole. I tapped my fingers on the desk. “Alright, message her back. It’s a yes from me.”

  He punched the air. “I knew it.” He wheeled himself back across the floor, tatty jeans trailing the carpet. “I fucking love you, Carl Brooks, you will not regret it.”

  “One last shot,” I said. “Then we’re out. Profile deleted. I’m done with this.”

  He gave me a salute. “Yeah, yeah, one last shot. This one’s our girl, I can feel it in my bones.”

  I laughed. “In your boner, you mean.” My cursor hovered over minimise, but I didn’t click. I didn’t want to click. Maybe, just maybe. “Message her, then, now. Set it up.”

  He reclined in his seat, hands behind his head. “Don’t need to,” he said with a smirk. “I messaged her before I sent you the email.”

  Katie

  Hi, I’m Katie, pleased to meet you. Handshake? Hug? Air kiss? Maybe not. Hi, I’m Kate. So good to meet you, finally. Finally? Does that sound desperate?

  I reversed the car at the bottom of the street. Again. Clunky gears made me over-swi
ng and they ground like teeth on chalk. Nasty. I could just feel the curtains twitching. They’d be calling neighbourhood watch before long. I’d already circled the road three times in the past fifteen minutes, and still I was early.

  Hi, Rick! Carl! I’m Katie. Katie Smith. So lovely to meet you! No. Too gushy.

  I put the car in neutral and looked again at my surroundings. The road was suburbia central, and I was surprised the street itself wasn’t paved with banknotes. I felt totally out of my comfort zone, a pathetic little duckling bobbing on the waves.

  But I should have known it would be like this. It should be like this. It would be considerably more concerning to rock up on some deadbeat estate somewhere and find my sugar daddies weren’t all they were cracked up to be. I’d checked this place out on Street View, many times, but Street View doesn’t account for scale. These properties were big.

  It seemed so easy in the safety of my own fantasies, but now it was a whole other ballgame, parked up in money town with a bellyful of butterflies and a serious case of fight or flight.

  Fight or flight. More like fuck or flight.

  The thought gave me jitters.

  Maybe that’s what they’d expect. Pleased to meet you, strip now, please and show us your pussy.

  Rick said not, but he would, wouldn’t he?

  Still, that wouldn’t be the worst that could happen. Murder on money row, sugar daddy slut gets butchered in Cheltenham suburbia.

  Unlikely, I’d checked them out. Facebook profiles, electoral roll, the business connect website. They were everywhere, bold as brass, and all the lines matched up neatly. Plus, I’d left a practical dossier of information on them in my dressing table drawer. Even Much Arlock’s sleepy police force could crack that crime in a heartbeat.

  I stared over at their house, realising all over again that my car was going to look like a bag of shit on their driveway. My car would look like a bag of shit on anyone’s driveway.

  I took a breath. Here goes nothing.

  I pulled my battered old Ford onto their property, and immediately wished I’d given it a jet wash. Mine was covered in mud and scratches and probably half a hay bale, and theirs were gleaming. Gleaming and new. A posh Range and some sporty silver BMW, pristine on their fancy pink-bricked driveway. At least I’d made the effort to spruce myself up. I turned off the engine and kicked off my pumps, replacing them with the killer heels I’d stashed in the passenger footwell. I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror, lipstick still behaving in a shade only one darker than nude, and a few token dabs of mascara. I’d pass. Hopefully. I shimmied my dress further down my thighs, conscious of flashing my slutty little knickers as I clambered into plain sight. Long legs are both a blessing and a curse, harbouring the ability to turn a perfectly respectable dress into a whore-gown with just one false wiggle. Finally I reached for my bag, checking my paperwork just one last time. Paperwork, yikes. This was some crazy shit, but my dreams weren’t getting any smaller.