The Dirty Headmaster

by Cassandra Dee

  “Ohhhhh!” I screamed. “Oh god!”

  Because that’s all it took. I was so aroused by the steamy play of the last half hour that my body was already cranked to a ten out of ten. And the massive male fingers pushing insistently into my warmth forced me over the edge, the heat and insistence so delectable.

  “Unnnnh!” I screamed once more, mouth stuffed with manmeat. “Unnnh!”

  And that was it. I exploded around his fingers, screaming with ecstasy as my pussy clenched and pulsed on his fingers.

  “Mmmm!” was my muffled shriek. “Mmmm!”

  And my mouth must have done something at that instant as well. Because suddenly hot jets of sperm spurted wildly into my oral chamber, hitting the back of my throat as I swallowed furiously, trying to capture it all.

  “FUCK!” swore the big billionaire, stuffing his fingers even further in. “Fuck fuck!”

  And we were caught in a loop. The more semen into my mouth, the harder I swallowed. The harder I swallowed, the harder the alpha pushed his fingers into my cunt, making me cream even more. And then my mouth sucked even more ferociously, milking the man of every last drop of cum.

  It was the best feedback loop ever, the most enticing, arousing situation I’ve ever been in. Because the truth is, I’ve never really touched a man. Nor have I ever let any man touch me, even though they tried. It’s just something that’s never appealed, with the boys gangly and nervous, their breath stinking of garbage.

  But this was a different situation. A different circumstance, pressed into service by a gorgeous, magnetic billionaire. We were on a private charter flight high in the clouds, our privacy guaranteed by his money and power. No one would interrupt us. If the man wanted to throw me into the back room and shove that massive cock into my steaming pussy, there wouldn’t be a peep of protest.

  And the thing is, I would have said yes. If he told the pilot to fly over the Atlantic, extending this flight by another ten hours, I would have said yes. I would have watched as Mr. Dawson locked the door on the private cabin and took me ten ways until Sunday.

  But the seatbelt light had already come on. Damien’s cock, though still firm, was merely dribbling into my mouth now, instead of spurting hot lashes of juice. And my cunt, though still horny and wet, was merely quivering on his fingers instead of clamping hard with every scream.

  The billionaire leaned back in his chair, pulling his hand from my secret space with a obscene wet squelch. Oh god oh god. Even the sounds were so disgusting, yet erotic all the same. Oh god.

  And slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, lips slightly parted.

  “There’s a gob of cum on your tongue,” he rasped, eyeing my flushed face. “I’d swallow that before we land.”

  Cheeks going bright red, my mouth snapped shut and I swallowed hard, the gooey liquid disappearing, before scrambling back into my dress. How did I look? With flying hands, I patted my curls into place, straightening the canvas fabric of my apron while stepping back into those high heels. What kind of stewardess wore four inch stilettos, the arch so high that my bust was thrown forwards, hips pulled back? Well, now I knew why.

  And never dropping my gaze, Mr. Dawson tucked himself back in, pulling his blazer forwards to hide the slight wet spot at his crotch.

  “You were great,” he said casually, eyes looking over my heaving form. “Just perfect. I’ll tell them to make a note in your file.”

  And dumbly, my chin nodded.

  “Thank you sir,” came my trembling voice. “Thank you.”

  Turning on my heel, I walked unsteadily back to the front of the plane, disappearing behind the partition where the stewardess’s jump seat was hidden. And only after I was buckled safely, did I let myself breathe deep for the first time in hours. Because had that really happened? Had I just sucked a handsome man’s cock hungrily, letting him stroke my pussy until it creamed deliciously? Had I really gulped every last drop of sperm like an adoring slut, letting Mr. Dawson use my body any way he saw fit?

  And in the dimly lit corner, my pussy pulsed its answer. Because yes, it’d happened. The alpha had taken over my senses with his filthy ways, his unerring air of command. And it’d been so good and so amazing … that I only wanted to do it again.

  Six Ways to Sin is now LIVE! Get your copy here.

  Sneak Peek: Falling for My Beautiful Ward

  ~A Taboo Romance~

  © 2018

  By Cassandra Dee

  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

  Falling for My Beautiful Ward: A Forbidden Romance

  She’s too beautiful for her own good.

  After Daisy’s mom died, she left me as her daughter’s legal guardian. A single guy who knew nothing about parenting was suddenly saddled with a little girl. So I packed the kid off to boarding school, and we didn’t cross paths for years.

  But now Daisy’s back.

  She’s in my mansion, eating my food. Dancing to music in her head while humming like a butterfly.

  I can’t stop myself from looking because the girl’s so young and innocent.

  But that’s the problem. Daisy’s my ward for crying out loud, and no man should feel this way about a girl living under his roof.

  So what do I do now?

  I can’t stop.

  I don’t want to stop.

  And to my surprise, she doesn’t want to stop either.

  We’re screwed, because I’m her legal guardian.

  I shouldn’t be touching her.

  I should keep my hands to myself.

  But it’s too late because the beautiful girl’s pregnant with my baby!

  Hey Readers – This book was originally released as Temptation. It’s been revised and expanded for your reading pleasure. As always, there’s a guaranteed HEA with no cheating and cliffhangers. Enjoy! Love, Cassie

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tristan

  I wasn’t wrong when I said Daisy had plans. It all came out at dinner one night, over some medium rare steak. Chef had done well, the beef juicy, red, and so tasty it melted in your mouth. I could feel Daisy watching my every move, those brown eyes warm and luscious.

  But I kept cool, eating like nothing was wrong.

  “How was school?” I asked casually through a forkful of the good stuff, chewing thoughtfully. Before she answered, I glanced over at Daisy’s plate, steak untouched, growing cold. I raised an eyebrow.

  “Something wrong with your food?”

  The girl bit her lip slightly, that pout pillowy and soft. How I’d love to take them between mine and taste the sweetness, run my tongue along the seam before thrusting inside, sampling the hot heat within. But I shook myself. How fucked-up was that? I was twenty years her senior, and it was so damn wrong.

  Daisy’s shake of her head was silent, her eyes nervous.

  “No, the food’s good,” she said softly, looking down at her folded hands. “How was work today?” she asked.

  I kept eating.

  “Fine, I got out early and decided to come home instead of heading out to a client dinner. You can’t eat every meal out, it’ll kill you,” I said smoothly, forking up some mashed potatoes. It was rare that I indulged in any type of carbs because carbs aren’t great for maintaining muscle mass, but hey, every guy’s gotta have weaknesses, right? And the brunette smiled.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve been showing Mrs. Potter how to cook healthy, even those mashed potatoes you’re eating are better for you than you think,” she said with a playful smile. “They’re not made with butter, they’re made with extra virgin olive oil instead, it cuts out a lot of the saturated fat. Can you tell?”

  And I groaned, closing my eyes for an instant. I hate health crazes, I hate cutting out butter, sugar, all the good stuff. Everything in moderation is my motto, and there’s no need to go wacko eliminating out thi
s and that entirely, it’s so fucking extreme. Can’t a man just enjoy a hearty meal?

  So I shot Daisy a sharp look.

  “You fucked with my mashed potatoes?” I growled.

  But Daisy wasn’t intimidated at all.

  “I did,” she laughed, “And you couldn’t tell either, you wouldn’t have known unless I mentioned it. Besides, the EVOO is imported from a special place in Italy known for the creaminess of its olives, that’s why the potatoes taste exactly the same. It cost a pretty penny, but I know you can afford it,” she said cheekily.

  And I let out a big breath. Seeing that dessert was a decadent flourless chocolate cake, I was almost dreading hearing what it was made with, how Daisy and Mrs. Potter had tampered with the recipe. So I changed the subject abruptly. Better than having my taste buds shrivel off from despair.

  “Tell me about school,” I ground out.

  Daisy looked up at me surprised. I don’t think I’d ever expressed interest in her studies or any part of her life for that matter. But since she’d come onto my radar, I’d found myself drawn to her, thinking about what she was up to, what she did with her time, and who she hung out with, although I’d never voiced any of it.

  So Daisy began slowly.

  “Well, I’m taking a couple great classes,” she said tentatively. “English, Algebra, Biology, and History, among others,” she said, licking her lips nervously.

  My attention was distracted by the flicker of that pink tongue but I forced myself to focus.

  “And which is your favorite?” I said calmly, turning back to my steak.

  Here, the girl flushed again, still not touching her plate.

  “It’s English,” she murmured, looking down. That was certainly an odd reaction to being asked your best subject in school. Most times I’d expect a person to go crazy, babbling on and on about themselves, using the invitation to spew. But Daisy was different, quiet and contained.

  So I pressed forward, intrigued.

  “And why is English your favorite?” I asked casually, leaning back in my chair although my body was tense, watching her every move.

  “Well,” she said slowly, “we have a really great teacher.”

  I relaxed momentarily. An instructor can make a difference, it’s true. I’ve had more than a few mentors in my career and they’ve been life-changing, helping me see things from a different perspective.

  “And who is this teacher?” I asked smoothly, expecting a woman. I dunno, I guess I’m backwards or something. I always think of teaching as a women’s profession, many of my favorite teachers have been Misses this or that. But evidently it’s a modern world now and Daisy’s teacher was a guy.

  “Mr. Ranger’s my English teacher,” said Daisy softly. “Mr. Ranger’s new to the district, he’s a vet, did some time in the military before taking up teaching. But it’s fine because we’re reading Victorian literature and he knows his stuff.”

  I sat back. What the hell? An ex-military dude was teaching my little girl about Jane Eyre and all that shit? Who the fuck was this asshole? But I didn’t let it get away from me, keeping my face impassive.

  “Mr. Ranger?” I inquired. Even his name was a fucking joke, like a GI Joe. “Tell me more.”

  “He’s really great,” said the brunette quickly. “We’re talking about Pride and Prejudice in class and he’s so knowledgeable. He reminds me of Mr. Darcy, a character in the book, except not stuck up at all.”

  And I searched my memory banks. Wasn’t Mr. Darcy the hero of the book, the tall, dark and handsome guy? Why the fuck was Daisy was comparing her high school teacher to Mr. Stud? I could feel my hackles raising, bristling even, the threat of another alpha male making me growl subtly. But it’d do no good to give it away so soon, so I schooled my face into impassiveness.

  “I see,” I said casually. “This guy seems pretty well-educated. He something special to you?”

  And Daisy blushed again, her rack rising and falling with excitement.

  “Oh no,” she rushed, waving her hand, “Mr. Ranger’s just a teacher at school. But…” she said tentatively.

  “But what?” I asked.

  “But he’s coming over next week and said he’d like to meet you, maybe talk about a donation for Central Prep,” she rushed out, looking at me with embarrassed eyes. “Would you mind meeting him, maybe just for five minutes to chat a little?” she asked in a small voice.

  I almost laughed internally. Because sure, I’d love to meet this dude. I’d love to beat the daylights out of him if he was indeed a hot stud, scare the bejesus out of him. But I played it like I’d need a favor in return.

  “This is kind of out of the blue,” I said, looking off in the distance while chewing my steak. “I’m not sure if I have time in my schedule. Which day was it? I dunno, I’m traveling to Italy and Venezuela next week, it’ll be tough,” I said, lowering my brows like I was visualizing my packed schedule.

  Daisy was silent for a moment.

  “Please Mr. Marks,” she said. “Just for a little bit.”

  I turned to look at her, that caramel gaze filled with sincerity, lips pouting, expression hopeful. But I didn’t become CEO without honing my negotiation tactics.

  “What’s in it for me?” I asked nonchalantly. “People are always looking to get a slice of my money, what do I get for meeting with this asshole?”

  Daisy bit her lip.

  “Well, maybe he’d give me a better grade in class?” she said in a small voice.

  I snorted.

  “He better give you a better grade,” I ground out. “That’s the least he could do for five minutes of my time. No, little girl,” I said gently. “Tell me … what will you be giving me?”

  And here, Daisy bit her lip.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said tentatively, the heat rising in her cheeks again, squirming a bit in her chair. We were alone in the big dining room but she looked around as if searching for some help, an out somewhere.

  “I’m sure you know what I mean,” I growled, leaning back in my chair, a relaxed male animal, dangerously predatory. “You haven’t been wearing panties Daisy, you’ve been flashing that cunt all over the house, trying to tempt me.”

  Daisy let out a sharp gasp then, eyes wide with shock.

  “Mr. Marks, it’s not like that,” she breathed. “I swear.”

  “Not like what?” I drawled, big body relaxed although energy jolted in waves through my frame.

  “It’s just that,” she said slowly. “My body’s changed and I didn’t have underwear that fit anymore,” she said. “My hips are a little wider now and my old panties, I bought them when I was built like a rail,” she said shyly, almost embarrassed. “I used to be a size zero but now I’m a twelve and the last time I tried to get my old stuff on, they …”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “They what?” I pressed gently.

  The brunette looked down, embarrassed, completely still.

  “They ripped,” she almost whispered. “My panties didn’t fit anymore, they tore right in two.”

  My cock jumped out at full mast then. Oh fuck, oh fuck. The little girl was a curvy one, hips wide and sassy, with a rack to make a man cry. The thought of that sweet, soft cotton squeezing her waist, the fabric straining and finally snapping made my cock jerk to attention, and suddenly I couldn’t resist anymore.

  “Show me,” I commanded harshly, eyes glued to her figure. The air between us was electric and tense with sexual energy. Clearly, the steak was forgotten.

  “Show you?” she repeated in a small voice, shaking her head, confused. “I can’t Mr. Marks, I threw those panties away. I threw all my panties away,” she confessed. “None of them fit anymore.”

  The thought made me spurt a bit into my pants. Holy shit, this was dangerous territory, but I had to keep going. I had to.

  “Not that baby, I’ll get you new panties,” I rasped, eyes hot, dick on fire. “Show me that beautiful pussy. It’s bare and wet isn’t it?”
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  And with wide eyes, Daisy nodded, squirming slightly in her seat again.

  “It is,” she murmured. “When I’m around you it is, Mr. Marks.”

  And I fucking couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Up,” I commanded. “Bend over, skirt up.”

  Trembling, the brunette stood, sliding her chair back.

  “Right here? In the dining room?” she whispered, chin trembling.

  “Right here,” I growled, eyes glued to her voluptuous curves.

  And slowly, the girl turned and bent over, the hem of her skirt rising inch by inch, meaty thighs coming into view, pale, creamy and oh-so-tasty, like ham hocks you could bite into, get a huge mouthful and enjoy.

  “Like this Mr. Marks?” she asked breathlessly, small voice coming from between her knees.

  “Just a little more,” I ground out, and the girl obliged. Slowly, she tipped over even further until the bottom of her pink pussy slipped into view, nubile, pulsing, and wet.

  I practically came right then, cockpole throbbing, veins pulsing, the tip leaking with lust.

  “Fuck little girl,” I stared at her bottom, my eyes ravenous. “Fuck,” I ground out harshly. And the girlie got into it then.

  “How about this?” she asked, shaking her hips, shimmying a bit. I watched mesmerized as little flecks of pussy juice dribbled from her folds, one even hitting my dick. Ravenously, I massaged the spatter of cream into my pole, using it as lube.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I ground out. “But I want more,” and with a quick movement of my wrist, I flicked her skirt over her hips so that her entire snatch was bared, that juicy twat fleshy, steaming, beating with a visible pulse as I stared at those plush lips, the little clit poking out.

  “Oh Tristan,” Daisy squealed from down below. “You’re so bad!”

  But I didn’t answer because I was mesmerized, already beating my stick like a madman. Fuck, I raged, she’s your ward, stop stop stop, this is so wrong. But it felt right. Everything about this fucked-up situation felt right, from the way that pink pussy leaked to the way Daisy was breathing hard, shivering with delight.