“You better be quiet,” he growls, leaning forward to press his lips to my wet pussy. I let out a hiss, my eyes closing. “There are other people at the bar, sweetheart. They can see and hear us.”
My lashes flutter open, and it’s true. We’re in a private booth at the bar of the Billionaires Club. There are various plants that block the view of me and my man getting down, but if you look closely through the leaves and palm fronds, you can see what we’re doing. We’re having dirty sex in public, and to make it even more fun, I’ve put on my original waitress outfit to tease my man.
“Ooooh,” I moan as his tongue licks up my slit before pushing into my wetly creaming hole. “Yeah, just like that.”
A low chuckle sounds out from Mr. Carmichael, and he gently nips my clit, making me squeal and jolt.
“Sweetheart, you come when I tell you to,” he reminds me. “Otherwise I’m not going to help you with your homework,”
I gasp again, bumping my hips back against his face in order to get that tongue in me again. But at the same time, I do need help with my homework because after declaring our love for one another, the first thing we did was get on-line and sign me up for classes at a local community college.
“Is this what you want?” I asked Peter breathlessly while submitting my enrollment form. He shakes his head.
“What you want is what I want,” the billionaire growls, devouring me alive with those blue eyes. “I want you to be happy, Gemma, and if that means taking classes on underwater basketweaving, then so be it.”
“I’m not!” I blush. “I’m taking classes in calculus and U.S. History.”
“Good,” he says with a wink. “Because I know both those subjects inside out.”
And it’s true. Mr. Carmichael is amazingly well-read, and although it sounds unbelievable, he’s able to help me with my homework on a nightly basis. Often, he gets home, we eat dinner together in his suite, and then study for a while before the bedroom antics begin. Of course, once those start, it’s all over for any other activity.
But tonight is a special night. We decided to come to the bar at the Billionaires Club, and reenact the first night that we met. Thus, the stripper heels and tiny skirt. I’ve got no panties, and per Club rules, my breasts are bare and luscious as they swing gracefully below my torso.
“Yes,” I moan again as Mr. Carmichael delicately licks up the left side of my cunt. “Just like that.”
He groans into my sensitive flesh and I shiver, my nectar running hot and fast into his waiting mouth. But Mr. Carmichael doesn’t want to finish like this.
“Will the baby mind if I push deep into you?” he grunts, already standing up behind me and gripping my hips with two massive hands. I giggle a bit, breathless and aroused. I’m not showing, and only told him today that I’m pregnant. The billionaire was elated, and kissed me all over, vowing that if it was a little girl, he’d be the best dad ever.
“The baby’s just a tiny thing in me right now,” I laugh again, shooting him a saucy look over my shoulder. “So do your thing, Mr. Carmichael. I want it.”
With that, he eases that big dick into my pussy and my eyes flutter shut as a moan escapes my lips. Oh god! The thickness drives me insane and I buck a little bit at his size. My pussy feels so stretched, but also so utterly satisfied.
“Yes,” I breathe again. “Oh yes.”
He pulls out, and then pushes in again.
“You promise we’re not hurting the baby?”
“I promise!” is my desperate squeal. “Now make me yours, Mr. Carmichael!”
The pounding begins in earnest then. His huge size pushes me forwards and almost lifts me off my feet. I squeal again, standing on my tiptoes as my pussy is fucked thoroughly.
“Use my body,” I moan. “Use my holes.”
“I will, sweetheart,” he rasps behind me, reaching one hand around to caress my throbbing clit. “You can bet on it.”
And with that, we both rocket over the edge and into a galaxy of spinning stars. Pleasure cascades over my frame as my pussy squeezes his fuckrod tight, milking it completely dry. Peter shudders and moans behind me, dropping a huge load that would definitely get me pregnant if I weren’t pregnant already.
When we come to, we’re plastered together as music thrums around us. My vision slowly clears and I blink, startled, because Mr. Carmichael is still embedded in my pussy, but he’s reached around and is offering me something.
“Is that …?” I gasp, hardly able to believe my eyes.
“It is,” he confirms. “Will you marry me, Gemma? I love you more than anything, and I know we don’t have it all figured out yet. But we’ve made good progress, right? You’re taking classes, we’re closing on that house in the good school district, and you’re pregnant with my baby. It feels right, doesn’t it? Will you sweetheart? Because I don’t think I could survive if you say no.”
I giggle a bit and squeeze my pussy muscles, eliciting another groan from the billionaire, as well as a last jet of semen. But then I hold up my finger and nod, turning my head to give him a kiss. He slides the dazzling diamond on my finger, and our kiss blends the best of all words: deep and meaningful, as well as sensual and sexy.
“Yes, Mr. Carmichael,” I say sweetly. “I’ll be yours. I’d love to be your wife.”
And with that, he pulls out of me and sweeps me into his arms. It doesn’t matter that there are people around us. The powerful alpha male strides from the bar at the Billionaires Club and I know where he’s taking me … straight to the chapel, where our hearts will meld forever in a ceremony of love.
THE END
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A Sneak Peek: Falling for My Beautiful Ward
~A Taboo Romance~
© 2018
By Cassandra Dee
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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 this 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?”
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.
Claiming Her At the Bar Page 9
