by S. E. Law
Patrick merely growls.
“It’s okay. This is a way for babies to get to know their father. Have you talked to the Valencias, by the way?”
I swallow, carefully thinking about how to answer.
“Yes. Well, sort of. Okay, no. I talked with our attorney again, and he said they’re still in negotiations with the Valencias about getting the videotapes into our possession. Evidently, there was more than one camera fixed on that stupid Santa sleigh, so there I guess there’s an entire archive of our activities that night.”
Patrick shakes his head with disbelief.
“Who would have guessed? Why are they so paranoid?”
I shrug.
“It’s like my parents said. I guess the Christmas decorations cost a fortune, and they wanted to keep an eye on them. Allegedly, the Valencias spent thirty thousand on that diorama, so I guess it makes sense that they want to keep tabs on their investment.”
Patrick snorts again.
“Who knew they were friends of your parents too?”
I nod.
“I know. I guess they met during a Tony Robbins motivational conference, and were delighted to find out that they lived in the same town.”
My husband shakes his head again.
“But how did they recognize that it was you? I mean, you didn’t go to that conference too, did you?”
I shrug with exasperation.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those things. Evidently, the Valencias’ dog came in to see the vet a couple times, and they spoke with me. To be honest, Patrick, I remember their dog just fine. Marshall is a beautiful Dalmation with distinctive markings. But you know how I am with dog owners; I can’t recognize another human for the life of me.”
My husband merely chuckles and rubs my belly again.
“The Valencias are weird.”
“You can say that again. Hey, if you keep rubbing my belly like that, I’m going to think you’re doing it for good luck just like with the Buddha statues!” I exclaim. The dark man growls deep inside his chest.
“I am doing it for good luck, baby girl. You and the baby are my good luck charms.”
I giggle but then get serious.
“But anyways, yes, I think we’re going to be able to get the tapes, no thanks to my parents. Lorraine and Henry are insane, and I’ve just about given up on them.”
That’s one of the saddest developments in my life thus far. Despite the fact that I leapt to my husband’s defense in front of a packed auditorium, my parents haven’t come around. They continue to think that Patrick is an older man who inappropriately seduced a young virgin despite the fact that I’m a fully-actualized twenty-five-year-old woman.
As a result, we haven’t spoken with them in the month that’s passed since that fateful City Council meeting, although there have been signs of a break in the ice recently. My mom asked my aunt to ask me for a picture from my latest ultrasound, which I suppose is a roundabout way to establish a connection again.
But I haven’t forgotten what Lorraine and Henry did because their actions were ridiculous. And taking things to a public stage like that in the hopes of tanking my husband’s business is going beyond the pale. As a result, it’s going to require more than sharing a few ultrasounds to re-establish the trust between us. Lorraine and Henry are on my naughty list this year, and maybe after the baby’s born, I’ll relent and let them see their grandchild. For now, though, I haven’t gotten over the hurt.
Regardless, my parents’ efforts to bring down Patrick’s business did not succeed. In fact, the notoriety surrounding that City Council meeting spread, and pretty soon, there was a huge increase in foot traffic at the gym. Patrick had to extend Mr. P’s open hours and hire a few more trainers just to handle the additional interest.
Not to mention that he hasn’t given up on the supplements business. In fact, the opposite. Maybe he hasn’t gotten his permit yet, but we’re selling the supplements on-line already, for which no permit is needed, and the goods are flying off the shelves like hotcakes.
Who knew? Maybe it’s the image of my handsome husband gazing from the label that does it. After all, Patrick is gorgeous, fit, and absolutely breathtaking. Men definitely want to look like him, so they’re buying his products in an attempt to replicate his success, and I consider myself lucky to be his wife. We had a quickie ceremony in Vegas, which was fast but romantic, and just right in every way. My diamond glints from my finger and with a teasing smile, I slip it off and hand the item of jewelry to my husband.
“Give it to me,” I breathe. “Along with your candy cane.”
Patrick grins because he knows what I want.
“Flip over and spread,” is that low command. “Let me see your sweetness.”
With a moan of anticipation, I do as told while hitching my skirt over my bottom. My panties are drenched already and with one quick snap of his wrist, Patrick pulls them off.
“Oh!” I squeal.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patrick rumbles, his eyes fierce with love. “Daddy knows what you want.”
With that, he eases his giant candy cane into my sopping slit and I cry out with pleasure. This is what I need: ten inches of thickness penetrating my small hole, and I cry out again, my eyes drifting shut. But then Patrick strokes over my crack, teasing my brown hole open with his fingers before worming a digit deep inside.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
I moan and mewl, trying to inhale in preparation for what’s going to happen next.
“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”
Patrick lets out a rough chuckle and slips his finger out before inserting the diamond into my back chamber. The stone has hard edges and I shriek with pleasure as the facets massage the walls of my bottom cavern.
“Ooooh!” I wail. “Yes, yes, yes! So GOOD!”
With that, the double penetration does its work and I burst into flames while sailing over the moon. My two holes contract and convulse, pulling Daddy’s candy cane deeper as he explodes with male need.
“FUCK!” is his conquering roar. “Oh shit!”
I clamp down on him, pulling both the candy and the diamond deeper, along with his seed. There’s so much that the male batter spills out between us, dripping down my thighs and coursing over his balls. But this is what I want and crave: Patrick in me, with our lives and bodies now joined as one.
The End
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Next up: A Sneak Peek of Daddy’s Christmas Gift. My professor has a special gift in store for me this year, but I have to unwrap his package to find out what it is.
Sneak Peek: Daddy’s Christmas Gift
Aria
Will Aria’s handsome, hunky professor be able to keep his hands off the curvy girl? It’s a forbidden professor-student romance filled with pleasure.
I knock hesitantly on the wooden door again. There’s a frosted pane of glass in the middle of the door, but the shade on the other side is drawn, rendering it dark.
“Professor Moore?” I call. “It’s office hours, isn’t it? It’s Aria Nelson.”
Suddenly, the door opens so quickly that I step back with surprise. Or maybe it’s the fact that Professor Moore is absolutely huge, close-up and in person. After all, I’ve always watched him from a distance as a figure at the front of the classroom. But now that the man is before me, a mere three feet away, the air zooms from my lungs as I tilt my head up to gaze into those navy blue eyes.
Because Roland must be six three at least. He towers over me, his large bulk looming over my small one. He seems to blot out the light within, and his shoulders are so wide that they appear to reach from one side of the doorframe to the other. But then he steps aside to let me in, and grins, flashing bright white teeth.
“Hi Aria,” he
says mildly. “Just in time. It’s two on the dot, and I was just about to open my door.”
I step in hesitantly and look around. His office is tiny, but it’s to be expected. This building hasn’t been upgraded in years, and the dilapidation shows. There’s one tiny window up high behind his desk, but all it reveals are the green leaves of a massive bush. A metal desk is positioned in front of the window, and there’s a chair in front of the desk for visitors as well as a cheery red rug on the floor. But what takes my breath away are the shelves and shelves of books lining the walls because Roland Moore obviously reads a lot. Even though this is a small space, he’s outfitted his office such that all four walls have floor to ceiling shelving crammed full of all sorts of novels.
“Wow,” I breathe, stepping inside. “Are these all yours?”
He chuckles while shutting the door behind me.
“Most,” he acknowledges. “Fiction and non-fiction both. Sometimes I read some non-fiction, but it’s strictly for pleasure. For work, it’s all fiction.”
I laugh, seating myself in the chair before his desk.
“That’s funny because for most people it’s the opposite. Professional reading is usually boring non-fiction, while people read novels for fun in their spare time.”
Roland quirks a grin at me and takes a seat behind his desk. The light in the office is bright, but it’s warm at the same time and casts his skin in shades of bronze. My mouth goes dry when I see the slight vee of chest revealed at the collar of his shirt, and the strong neck rising up above it. Oh my gosh, am I actually going daffy at the sight of a man’s neck? Am I that desperate?
The truth is, yes. Because while Elisa drags me to a lot of parties, I don’t exactly date. Sure, there are boys hovering around at the edges of my life, and I even went with George Littles to that fraternity dance last year. But nothing happened because George was too awkward. He kept trying to carry a conversation, but puberty came late for him and his voice would crack embarrassingly in the middle of every other sentence. By the end of the night, I think he was happy to see me go, if only so that he could go back to his room and let his vocal cords relax.
So the truth is that I don’t really date here at the University of Rhode Island. Not that I want to. The boys that Elisa brings home when she thinks I’m sleeping are gross. They moan and bump around in her tiny twin bed across the room, and most times, I pretend I’m asleep. There’s nothing sexy about teenage boys amped up high on testosterone, I tell you. The longest they can last is about three minutes, and that’s being generous.
But Professor Moore is the real thing. This is no adolescent boy who’s growing into his features. This is a true alpha male, with a piercing blue gaze, and a sense of knowingness about him. I can already tell that Roland knows his way around women from the commanding yet relaxed way he sits in his chair. Even the idle thrum of his fingertips on the metal desktop reminds me that I’m here to see him, and that he’s the one in charge.
But Roland cracks another grin, even as the blue of his eyes turns a deep navy.
“So Aria,” he begins casually. “What can I help you with?”
I stammer a bit, flushing.
“Um, I thought you wanted to talk about The Green Ribbon?” I ask hesitantly. “You know, the first short story in Her Body.”
Nodding, Roland gazes away for a moment while steepling his fingers.
“Yes, that’s right,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “I liked your comment in class, and wanted to probe further. Why did you say that the author portrays the female protagonist as a wanton woman? What made you think that?”
I gasp.
“I didn’t say she was wanton,” is my quick reply. “In fact, I don’t think she’s a slut at all. She was married to the man who pulled the green ribbon.”
Roland quirks an eyebrow at me.
“You don’t think a married woman can be a slut? Does a wedding certificate mean that a woman can no longer be loose, so to say?”
I flush again, stammering a bit.
“Well, I’m not sure,” are my slow words. “I suppose so. No, that doesn’t sound right. All I’m saying is that the female character seems to be very familiar with her own body, and makes it available for her husband’s pleasure to do whatever he likes. Is that going too far?”
Roland’s eyes gleam, and he leans forward a bit, adjusting his weight.
“I don’t know. Is letting a man do what he wants with your body going too far? I’m not sure either.”
I nod, my heart racing at this titillating conversation.
“I mean, on the one hand, the main character maintains total control over her actions. She chooses what to give to her husband, and shares herself with him unstintingly. But there was just something so … slutty about what she did, don’t you think? Do normal women do that?”
Roland leans forward again, a gleam in the depths of his blue eyes. His shoulders look slightly tense and very broad as his eyes scan my features.
“I’m not sure,” he says slowly. “Do you consider yourself to be a normal woman?”
My cheeks color.
“Yes, of course,” I say in a rush. “I mean, everyone is abnormal in some way. Take my hair, for example. Most babies are born with blonde hair and then it darkens as they age, but mine didn’t,” I say, blabbering at about a thousand miles an hour. “I’m still as fair as the day I was born, and in fact, I think my hair’s gotten even more blonde with time.”
Roland’s eyes gleam again, but his expression remains placid and neutral.
“Is that right, Aria? Could you take your hair down to show me? I’m afraid I can’t tell very well since it’s all twisted up right now.”
I flush. Somehow, this feels very intimate, although I’m hardly Rapunzel letting down her hair for a suitor.
“Oh sure,” I say while biting my lip. My heart’s going a million miles an hour, and somehow, I’m aroused and hot even though I’m not doing anything but dismantling my bun. “No problem, Professor.”
With trembling fingers, I reach up and fumble a bit before sinking my fingers into the elastic and pulling it from my tresses. Immediately, a long fall of gold streams from my crown before lying in a river against my back. It shimmers and waves beneath the light, as if it has a life of its own.
“There it is,” I say with a small smile. “See? I even have streaks of white, almost like an albino,” I manage as a joke.
But Professor Moore is silent, and for a moment, I think I’ve screwed up. Holy shit, I probably just crossed some kind of unspoken boundary, and he’s going to report me to the authorities now. At the very least, things are going to be extremely awkward from here on out.
But then, he gets up from his chair and circles around until he’s standing behind me, his big bulk large and imposing. Then he gets down on his knees as I remain as still as a doe, and lightly trails a big hand over my tresses.
“So beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”
My insides go hot and soft, and I inhale sharply. Oh my gosh, Professor Roland is stroking my hair gently now while running his fingers through the golden locks, and I’ve never been so aroused in my life. He hasn’t even really touched me yet, and suddenly, I know that I want to give my innocence to him. I want him to take me right here, in his office, and with a mewl, I turn slowly to face him.
“I’m yours, Professor,” I say softly. And then echoing the character in the book, I add, “Use my body as you see fit.”
The handsome instructor doesn’t even hesitate. In one fell swoop, his mouth claims mine, his lips hard and demanding as my soft ones part beneath his insistence. The air departs from my lungs even as he pulls me against the massive wall of his chest.
“Are you sure, Aria?” he growls deep in his throat before pulling away to stare in my eyes. “Because once we go there, we’re not going back.”
I look into those navy depths for a moment, my heart pounding. But I already know with a womanly instinct that this is ri
ght. This man has claimed me, and I am his woman.
“Yes, Professor Moore, I’m sure,” I murmur. “Take me, because I’m yours.”
To be continued …
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About the Author
Let go of your inhibitions because S.E. Law is about to take you for a wild ride with hot billionaires and alpha males with stunning six packs. Fan of candy canes, popsicles, and anything rainbow.
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