by Madison Faye
Just like I’d wanted.
The perfect Christmas gift.
Epilogue
Isabella
When we’d woken up the next morning, the storm had died down. And in it’s wake, we all woke to a perfect winter scene of stillness and fresh snow. We had coffee in the kitchen I’d grown up in, before Colin invited all of us — my parents included — back to his home for Christmas Eve brunch.
He flew us.
Over the gorgeous, fresh winter snow, Colin flew me and my stunned parents back to the helipad at one of his buildings back in Boston. A waiting car took us to his townhouse, where his kids ran out the front door to wrap their arms around him, and then me. Andrew made us brunch, my parents tried to swallow the shock of where they were, and Colin went out of his way to promise them he had every best intention for me.
That night, in front of the Christmas tree, he proved it even further, when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
I don’t think any Christmas Eve will ever top that one.
After that, we just drifted into our very own happy ever after. I moved in permanently immediately, and married Colin the following summer.
Needless to say, we got a new nanny for Beckham and Lillian.
The kids were a big part of me coming into his life, and he told me later that their warming to me the way they did was one of the biggest reasons he’d asked me to be his wife. I had a special kind of relationship with them, and I carried the responsibility of that relationship with the highest regard. I wasn’t their mother — that I made clear. Stepmom, yes, but as broken as she was, they did have a mother. I loved the two of them as if they were my own kids, of course, but it was never my place to replace Helen, only to act as a better caregiver to them than she could be.
There was a sweet spot I found, somewhere between “friend” and “mom,” and it worked out wonderfully for all of us for a time.
Well, until the incident.
Helen had broken the terms of her parole by flying to Paris to intimidate Colin and I. A more vindictive man would have come after her for everything, and made sure she never saw her kids again. But while he was firm, and viciously protective of those he loved, the man I married wasn’t cruel.
Colin did eventually — eventually — grant supervised, in-home visitation of the kids with Helen. It was for Beckham and Lillian, of course, not for her, and for a time, it worked.
That is, until she’d shown up drunk to one of the visits and tried to attack Colin with a taser she’d smuggled into the house. After that, and after they found evidence of her planning another lawsuit against Colin — a breach of the terms of her visitation — Colin shut that door for good.
Cruel? No. Fiercely protective? You bet.
The thing is, Helen hadn’t ever actually been after her children, just a way back to Colin and his bankroll. After the incident at the house, when it was quite clear to her that she was never getting her hooks into him again, she quite readily and willingly signed away all parental rights to her kids. After that, she’d flown off to Europe somewhere with the disgraced Dr. Peters.
Her just giving up Beckham and Lillian like that sickened me though, and after that, the dynamic of our relationship changed.
Because after that, I formally adopted them as my own.
I finished school at Harvard, moved on to the Business School graduate program at the same college, and eventually moved into a leadership position with one of Colin’s acquisition firms. I loved the work and the challenges, and I loved that I’d been afforded a chance to do the work I’d always wanted to do.
I also really loved that my boss would occasionally drop by my office, lock the door, bend me over my desk with my hands tied behind my back, and fuck me until I was a puddle.
Separation of work and play?
No thanks.
Bridgette was born three years after we married — a beautiful baby girl and an anchor that just tied our little family all together.
Colin was nothing I was ever looking for, and yet everything I hadn’t even known I wanted. The kind, loving husband that centered me, the warm, doting father to our children.
And yet, he never stopped being the other things I loved about him.
Dominant.
Wickedly dirty and toe-curlingly demanding and controlling when I needed him to be.
We had both the sugar and the spice — the warm fuzzy love and the down and dirty steam that kept me moaning for more and begging for it harder. And he never disappointed on either front.
We still sometimes would go back to that club, where it all began. We’d approach each other as strangers, he’d buy me a drink, he’d let his hand trail over my skin. And just like that first time, I’d be dripping wet for him in seconds.
He’d take me through the crowds, pull us into the bathroom, tear my panties away from me and fuck me hard and dirty — rough and controlling just like I craved and just how he loved.
But unlike the first time, those times, we’d leave together, and go back the the life and the family we’d created together. And maybe that wasn’t everyone’s idea of love. Maybe to some people, my husband fucking me against the tiled wall of a nightclub bathroom with my torn panties binding my hands behind my back and my hair wrapped around his fist until I came like a banshee was something to look down on. Maybe to some people, him pulling me back through the club afterwards with our clothes disheveled, the sweet bruises from our roughness already rising, and his cum dripping down my thigh wasn’t love at all.
Those people didn’t bother us one bit, because it was for us.
We had it all, and that’s what mattered. We had the family, the love, and the sweet and the hot.
Sugar and spice, as they say, makes everything nice.
The End.
Also by Madison Faye
“Three Times” Series:
Bossed Three Times
Taken Three Times
Paid For Three Times
“Twice” Series:
Twice Driven
Twice Bossed
Twice Tackled
“First Time” Series:
Legal
Professor
Freshman
Sugar & Spice: A Holiday Billionaire Romance
About the Author
Madison Faye is the dirty alter ego of the very wholesome, very normal suburban housewife behind the stories. While she might be a wife, mom, and PTA organizer on the outside, there’s nothing but hot, streamy, and raunchy fantasies brewing right beneath the surface!
Tired of keeping them hidden inside or only having them come out in the bedroom, they’re all here in the form of some wickedly hot stories. Single-minded alpha heroes, sinfully taboo relationships, and wildly over-the-top scenarios. If you love it extra dirty, extra hot, and extra naughty, this is the place for you!
(Just don’t tell the other PTA members you saw her here…)
MadisonFayeRomance
www.madisonfayeromance.com
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Professor: A First Time Novel
She’s supposed to be untouchable. But I’ve had a taste of the forbidden fruit, and now I just want more...
She’s the girl from my freshman lecture - my perfect, straight-A pupil and the one I shouldn’t even be looking at much less having these kind of thoughts about. No woman has ever made me feel this way, like I’m going out of my mind with raw need for her. I know the rules, and I know she’s half my age, but I don’t give a f*ck.
Because
I’m going claim her. I’m gonna be her first, and I’m going to take her until everyone knows she’s MINE.
Copyright © 2016 Madison Faye
All rights reserved.
Editing: Sennah Tate
Cover: White Rabbit Creative
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
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1
Liam
I’m a bad man.
Well, no, I’m a good man, but I’m about to do something bad. Because I’m staring down at this perfect little picture of innocence and temptation sprawled out beneath me, and I know I’m never going to be able to resist her.
She’s perfect; strawberry blonde hair cascading around her angelic face with those deep blue eyes looking up at me. Her cheeks flushed pink; pink like the soft pink nipples peaking her heavenly tits. Fuck me, I could bury my face for days in the soft, creamy skin of those breasts and the way they defy fucking gravity sitting so high and perky on her chest despite being so big.
And she’s so fucking wet for me that I can see it glistening in the low light of her dorm room. I can see how ready and willing that tight little pussy is, ready for me as I hover above her about to plunge my cock balls deep into that impossibly tight channel.
Jesus, her dorm room.
Yeah, this girl is perfect, but she’s also so fucking wrong. She’s legal, but she’s a student; my student for God’s sake. She’s my perfect, straight-A student that sits front and center in my freshman English literature class at Hardham College. The one I lose my damn words over when I get sucked into watching her. The one I lose my place in my readings over when I watch her chewing on the end of her pen, her eyes lost in the book in front of her. Or when she crosses and uncrosses her legs. She’s not trying to be sexy, but that’s exactly what gets me hard as a fucking rock for her.
I doubt the University would be happy to know about my lusting over a student, but I know they’d be more than pissed if they could see me now, with the head of my cock brushing against her silken, pouty pussy.
Her fingernails drag up my back, her hips undulating as if begging me with her body to plunge into her. I’m all too willing to oblige.
She whimpers when I enter her, sliding my thick tool deep inside of her and practically choking on my breath at how impossibly tight and wet she is.
Of course she is, she’s only done this once before.
Once before, with me, when I popped her cherry and took her innocence. When I had her writhing on my cock, bucking against me and coming like a damn train going off the rails. When she begged me to fill her, and when I finally let go and pumped every drop of cum deep inside her young, unprotected pussy.
It’s barely been twenty-four hours since, but I can’t even believe I’ve lasted this long without another taste. That honey between her legs is like my Goddamn drug, and I know I’m hopelessly addicted to it.
She rocks her hips up off the bed, moaning as the extra leverage grinds my cock even deeper inside of her; so deep that there’s no way I could possible fill her small body any further. It’s almost obscene the way her pink pussy lips stretch around my thick shaft, or how small and delicate she looks under my much older, muscled body.
Obscene like a man my age fucking a girl her age. Obscene like taking a college freshman’s cherry on top of my desk in the English department building. Obscene like how wrong it is on every level for me to be looking at this girl, much less plunging my cock in and out of her clenching, willing pussy.
I’d had the door locked and the shade drawn yesterday, when I tasted that young body for the first time and when I pushed through her innocence and claimed her as mine. We’re in her dorm room now, though, and the door’s not locked. Her damn roommate could walk in at any time and see us like this, and God knows what sort of shit would hit the fan then.
Fuck, I can hear other students partying down the hall - other students I probably teach, come to think of it. And none of them can possibly know that I’m balls deep in one of their peers right now. None of them would guess in a million years that the goody-two-shoes teacher’s pet that sits at the front of the class and aces every test, and does every extra-credit assignment with flying colors is moaning under me and clawing at my back while her pussy milks me for all that I’m worth.
None of them would ever guess that the girl with the black-rimmed glasses, and the hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the normally conservative dress for a college girl her age is now spread-eagle under her professor without a stitch of clothing save a pair of knee-high socks; the glasses to the side, and the normally contained hair wild and free across the sheets beneath her.
She’s so fucking tight and so wet, like a silken glove around my bare cock.
Oh, right, as if this needed anything else to be more obscene. Not only am I fucking a student half my age, but I’m bare and totally unprotected inside of her. And just like yesterday, I don’t give a fuck. Just like yesterday, I have a single, primal urge to fill this girl with my seed and make her mine.
Mine, more than she already is.
She’s moaning and whimpering beneath me, making these little cooing sounds that have my cock surging inside of her. She wraps her legs around me, pumping up to meet my thrusts as I start to fuck her harder and deeper, as if urging me on. And any fear I have of hurting her, or breaking her somehow - as small as she is and as big as my cock is inside of her - goes right out the window. Because I know she wants as much as I can give her, and damn am I going to give it to her.
She gasps as I grab her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck as I bite at the skin there. “You want me to fill you up again, don’t you,” I growl, sliding my cock deep and feeling my heavy balls slap against her tight little ass. “You want to feel my come inside this tight little pussy, don’t you?”
“Oh, God! Yes!” She moans. “Yes, Professor Martin, I want it!”
I groan, hearing her say my professional name like that again, like she did yesterday. It makes the whole thing even dirtier, and even more lewd to hear her call me “professor” like that, and I can feel the cum start boil inside my balls.
She’s whimpering and moaning, her hands clawing at my back and her hips urging me on as I feel her near-virginal pussy start to clench around me. I know she’s close, and I want to make her come harder than she’s ever come before. I know no other man, and no other boy has ever touched her - a thought that gets me harder than steel. But I want to make her come like she’s never even conceived of coming before. I want to sear the memory of my cock buried so deep inside of her, and my voice in her ear, and my cum filling her up until it dribbles down her legs so vi
vidly across her mind that she never forgets this moment.
I start to roll my hips, rocking my cock in and out of her as I reach down and start to roll her clit in circles. She goes into overdrive beneath me, her breath coming in gasping hitches and her tits rocking back and forth like soft, perfect tear-drops as I fuck her hard and deep. I can feel her start to clench around me, her impossibly tight pussy starting to milk me as I feel myself start to lose all sense of control.
“I want you to come for me, Ellie,” I growl in her ear. “I want to feel that pussy come all over my big cock and I want to feel your juices run down my balls as they empty every fucking drop inside of you.”
“Please, fill me up!” She whimpers, gasping in short staccato breaths. “Please fill me with your cum, professor!”
“Then you better milk it right out of me, baby. You better use that pussy to milk every drop of my cum out until it fills that tiny little pussy so much that it spills out.”
And like a shot, she’s coming. I can feel her whole body tremble and shake under me, her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back. I muffle her scream with my lips, letting her moan into my mouth as she explodes beneath me. Her pussy shudders and quivers around me, milking the length of my cock to the point of boiling, and it’s more than I can take. I roar into her lips as I feel my cock explode deep within her, my balls blasting rope after rope of cum deep into her fertile, perfect, barely legal pussy.
