by Paige North
He appears in the doorway, wearing classic pants, shirt, and tie, leaning against the doorframe in that sexy way male models do, legs and arms crossed to show off healthy biceps. The man definitely works out and takes his vitamins. Good God. Don’t stare right at him, Bailey.
“I think you might have overinflated your level of child-rearing expertise during your interview,” he says. Damn him, for looking so fine and being such an asshole at the same time. Why can’t I tear my gaze from him?
“I may have padded the truth a little,” I say, looking at the baby instead. “But doesn’t everyone when they’re vying for a job?” I pace the room back and forth, changing Olivia’s position until I find one that seems to calm her down a tad. “Shh….baby…shhhh….”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he says flatly. “If you lie to me or stretch the truth again, I’ll fire you on the spot and find someone else. Are we clear? I can’t have a baby crying in the house when I get home from work.”
Ugh, what decade are we in—the 1950’s? Civil War-era?
My frustration reaches a new high when Olivia begins crying harder, as she desperately tries to fall asleep on my shoulder. “But crying is what babies do half the time,” I retort, even though I know I should stay quiet. Just appease your boss, Bailey. But no… “They cry. If you don’t want to hear her, maybe you could build us a soundproof apartment on the roof?” I mean it as a joke, but wow am I tired from a full and stressful day.
Oof. What the hell is wrong with me? BUT…it’s true! He honestly expects to not hear a baby in his house? A baby who’s lost everyone important to her in one week who’s just arrived at unfamiliar surroundings without her mother? I don’t care if he fires me for the comment. The lack of compassion and understanding being displayed by this man is staggering. I don’t care how handsome he is, he doesn’t get to be a jerk and expect me to accept it.
A strange smirk spreads across his face. “You like answering back, don’t you?”
Ermmm…
“Only when I find something to be unfair. Sorry, sir. But to be truthful, you also kept details about the job from me until after I’d signed on. I’m good with children; I can do this job just fine. She just needs time to adjust. See? She’s quieting down already.”
As if on command, Olivia goes quiet and then falls asleep nestled against my shoulder, and I gently place her back in her crib.
Slowly, Zayden steps up to me, gaze fixed and intense. I almost hear my heartbeat pounding through my chest. His stare sears through me like x-ray vision. “You have a mouth on you, Miss Rainville, and I have better uses for it.”
There’s a fine line between this moment overstepping professional boundaries and being the most thrilling of my life, and the difference is in my reaction. I should be disgusted, but I’m not. Not even close. The man smells delicious, his late-day stubble creates a dark mood over his features, and my body shakes from how close he stands next to me. My breathing trembles, as he hovers.
Is he going to kiss me? What’s even crazier is that I actually want him to. The man who hired me, pressing his lips against mine. I wouldn’t mind at all. I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life—but he infuriates me like no one else, and that sends currents running through my body.
The balls. The nerve. The cockiness. He thinks it’s all about him, doesn’t he? I shouldn’t be interested in him at all. “I have a tendency to speak my mind,” I explain through nervous gasps. “I’ll won’t do it again. Just had a frustrating first day is all.”
His hand reaches out and one finger traces a line along my jaw, my chin. “If you do, I can do many things to train that mouth to be quiet, Miss Rainville. Many things. And you do like learning new things, don’t you?” He sucks lightly on his bottom lip, as he rubs his thumb across my bottom one.
I can’t move. I can’t speak. Whatever magic he’s working on me, I’m totally under its influence. Completely and unabashedly.
“Yes,” I breathe quietly, closing my eyes, imagining myself being undressed at his hands, bared to him. Naked in front of the master. Bared to the billionaire’s touch.
“You took a late shower,” he murmurs. “Your hair is still damp.”
“Yes,” I say, touching my own hair self-consciously.”
“A shame I missed it. You in your towel, coming out of the shower. Nobody else in the house but the two of us, and you almost completely undressed. Imagine if the towel was to fall off in front of me by accident.”
“That would be…very inappropriate and embarrassing,” I breathe, finally.
His nostrils flare and he seems to inhale my fresh scent. “When I come home tomorrow,” he says softly but firmly, “I want to see you coming out of the shower. Wet hair. Wet towel. Breathless. Sexy. Are we clear?” His fingers trace the edge of my jaw to the collarbone, then the neck of my blouse, above my breasts, his fingertips grazing just above my nipples. I gasp, lungs in my throat, and nod. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I see that this is wrong? Very, very wrong.
“Yes,” I squeak out.
“Yes, what?” His face drops close to mine. I feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek.
I close my eyes and prepare to feel. His lips. His tongue in my mouth. Any part of his body, I don’t care. I’ve never been with a man before, and suddenly, my body is on FIRE to remind me of everything I’ve been missing. The immense insanity of this moment dizzies me. Part of me wonders if it’s all an exhaustion-induced dream. “Yes, sir,” I say.
He nods. “Good.” He pulls away, leaving a cold spot where he stood just a moment before. I can’t believe he’s going to make me wait twenty-four hours with that vision in my head—of me wet in my towel waiting for him to come home like a good little sex slave. Does he mean every word, or is he messing with me? Is this what I signed up for, or have I somehow gotten myself into the thickest trouble of my life?
Stopping at the door, he turns around. “Get rest. Tomorrow, the baby won’t be the only person you’ll have to take care of.” He gives me a powerful, dark look, and then, without another word, he’s gone.
Zayden
A whole day at work to think about what I said, and I still don’t have an answer.
This was the first time I’ve told any woman working in my house that she better be ready for me when I come home. I don’t know why I said that, except that she drives me insane with that innocent, sexy look. No one ever talks to me like that. No one ever challenges me. No one ever looks so fucking hot while doing it either.
Then, there’s Bailey Rainville, owning some sort of power over me. It could just be infatuation. It could be over before I know it. Still, I can’t get involved with her, I know that much. I only wanted to taste her. And I’m pretty sure she wants to taste me, too. A pretty little thing like her is too good to pass up, especially with that bite of spunkiness in her.
Will she follow through?
I saw the way she checked me out yesterday, the same way so many women gawk at me, except in her case, she tried not to show how I affected her. That whole pride thing where a woman can’t give me the satisfaction of showing that she’s wet between the legs for me. I get it—stay coy. But it’s precisely this that’s made me crazy for the new nanny. She’s a dichotomy. An enigma.
I work late into the night and come home when, by all rights, the new nanny could claim to be asleep.
Maybe she’ll take this opportunity to blow off my instructions, and in a way, I’m almost hoping she does blow it off.
Because I know in my heart that I can only be bad for this girl. If she can resist me, then maybe I can resist her too…
Inside, the house is dark and quiet. No baby crying. No downstairs lights on. Just the way I asked for. Only thing different is that the hallway closet is slightly open, and inside I spot a baby stroller folded up. I sigh. A baby lives here. I was hoping to forget. Poor thing, it’s not her fault I don’t want her around. Babies just aren’t my thing.
Slowly, I make my way up t
he circular staircase, heavy on my feet to let Miss Rainville know I’m home. I allow myself to pretend that she’s my woman, that I’m coming home to fuck her. Bottom up, Mama—Papa’s coming home. On the other hand, part of me wishes she’ll be asleep.
I don’t know why I said what I did last night, except I was under her spell, and I like causing trouble.
I like opening doors to see where they lead.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I peer into the guest room, now a nursery filled with all sorts of unnecessary colors and patterns, but hey—the baby is asleep and the décor gave Bailey something to do. Maybe she was right—maybe Olivia had a stressful first day away from all things familiar, and that’s why she was crying so damn hard.
I move to the next room—Miss Rainville’s. I don’t knock. It’s my door. Turning the handle, I prop it open and let the door fly. It’s semi-dark inside, the only light coming from the city lights in the window and a glowing iPad in bed. She’s awake, tucked in tight with the sheets up to her chin. Her hair is wet but that’s as far as my fantasy goes.
Whatever. Her loss.
“Wise choice,” I tell her with a smirk. She ignored my request to be waiting in a towel. As disappointing as it is, it’s best for both of us. That way, I’m not tempted, and I can move on to banging safer choices, like the moms down at the park, the women I meet at bars, and all the models and socialites when they’re in town for Fashion Week.
But this was the one I wanted most, my brain says.
“A choice, to be sure,” she says, pulling the comforter aside and stepping out of bed. She’s wrapped in a bath towel. Not only that, but as she slinks closer to me, lips parted, drawing quiet breath from how nervous she is, nimble fingers pull at the overlap on top, and the towel falls away. “Though how wise remains to be seen.”
For several seconds, I take in her naked shape—full-figured with an hourglass and cinched waist. Real. Earthy. I can’t describe it, but you know it when you see it that it’s a real woman’s body. Her tits are round and full, her tummy is totally flat, but her hips are wide, and her legs have meat on them. I’m hard as fuck before I can even check out her legs or feet.
Fuck the legs and feet. I’ll see them later. I step up to her and pull her into me faster than my head can handle. As my body swoons from seeing my nanny waiting for me naked and covered in goose bumps, I take her face into both my hands and drink her in. Sweeter than any fruit I’ve ever tasted in the most exotic lands. Her pouty lips, the taste of her tongue, the scent of lavender or lemon or something on her skin from her shower, her wet hair clinging to her in dark lines. All of it.
Her skin is soft like velvet and my cock is raging hard like never before.
Her body falls limp in my arms, as her hands cling to my triceps, trying to keep herself up. I want to do anything and everything to her all at once. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but something overcomes me. It’s not like other women, where pure lust overtakes me on occasion.
No, I’m feeling something…more.
I want to fuck her, but I also feel a strange tenderness towards her. A need pulling deep in my chest that I’m totally surprised by.
With Bailey, I want to possess her.
And I also want to lay her on the ground face down and fuck her ass, I want to flip her around and fuck her mouth, I want to pound the shit out of that tight, sweet body and make it meld with mine.
Jesus, dude. Get a grip.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I tell her through breaths. She pulls away. She’s just as desperate to fuck as I am with that yawning, gaping mouth fighting for breath. I push three fingers into her mouth and hold it open, as her eyes widen. “So many things I can do to this pretty little mouth.” I plunge my tongue into her mouth and taste her.
“Do it,” she says between breaths. “I want this over with.”
Wait, what? Because of how much she’s been thinking about me today, the way I’ve obsessed about her? Yeah, I get it. Trust me. “I will. On the floor, Miss Nanny.” I chuckle under my breath.
She gives me a wary look, but her fingers make quick work of my buttons, my dress shirt lands on the floor, and before I can push her to her knees, she reads my mind and sinks, pulling my pants down with her. Sliding my waistband forward and down, she pulls out my cock—bigger and harder than I’ve ever felt it—and throws herself on it.
Fuck, yeah…
Kneeling on her towel, Miss Rainville sucks on my fat head like she hasn’t eaten in days, and I have to hold myself together to not explode in her mouth right then. What the fuck? It’s always amazing to me how horny women can get sometimes, and here we men are, thinking we’re the dogs. She wants this just as badly as I do, and she’s getting off on it, too. After a minute of sliding her tongue up and down my shaft and wrapping her lips around my knob, she opens her mouth wide and looks up at me.
This is so fucking wrong and so goddamn right all at the same time, and I feel like a god and a devil and I’m about to explode.
I swear, it’s like she’s saying, feed me.
So I do. I slide my massive tool into her mouth, push back on that tightness in her throat, and give it to her nice and deep. Gagging slightly, she uses her hands to guide it back, and my eyes roll back into their sockets. Holy fuck—this woman who looks so innocent herself—is sucking down my meat. Not only that, but her hand slips down and she begins fiddling with her clit, rubbing it in circles then diagonally.
She’s better at this than some of the most experienced, gorgeous models and actresses I’ve been with—women who definitely knew their way around the bedroom. You’d never know it from how sweet she looks. Yes, I definitely picked the right nanny.
“You love this, don’t you? How long have you been waiting for me, Miss Rainville?” I ask, but of course she can’t answer. “Oh, fuck. Have I finally quieted that sassy little mouth?” Taking her head, I push her mouth over me deeply, as I feel the buildup starting deep in my body then coursing its way through my balls.
Speaking of balls, and because I don’t know if we’ll ever do this again, I have to find out what Miss Rainville can do in that department. Pulling my shaft out of her mouth dripping with drool, I drop her shoulders down and slide over her mouth, so she can get underneath. Sliding my balls onto her face, I hope she’ll take the hint, and she does.
Her fingers fly faster as she sucks on them. “Did you forget to eat today, Miss Rainville?” I chuckle. “Mouth full of nuts and no sign of stopping. I see this pleases you.” She’s still masturbating as she swallows me whole. I can’t help it and crouch lower to slide my fingers through her naked cleft. My fingers slide into her slick folds dripping with her juices. I pull some out and open her mouth again with my fingers, slathering her tongue with her own essence. She groans as she sucks off my fingers.
Fuckin’ A. She’s open to everything, which makes me wonder about her sexual history for a fraction of a second. For someone so young, I didn’t expect her to be so experienced. I push that thought away. I don’t want to think about her with anyone else. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the only man she’s ever been with, though clearly, that’s a falsity purely made up to satisfy my ego.
Suddenly, Miss Rainville stops short of an orgasm, gets to her feet and wraps her arms around my neck for a long kiss. And I do, fully and deeply. She tastes delicious, but why did she stop? Her hands stroke my cock together full-fisted, and I reel at the thought of her tiny hands working me that way. “Let’s get it over with, please? Make love to me?” Taking a few steps back against the bed, pulling my cock with her, she lies flat on her back and opens her legs for me.
An amazing fucking view, that pink, wet small pussy pulsating with need. But there’s one problem. “I don’t make love, sweetheart,” I say, reaching for my pants and pulling out a condom. As I work it onto myself, her fingers dip into her pussy for lubrication then work around her clit again. “I only fuck. And I fuck hard. Relentlessly. Unforgivingly. Think you can handle it
?”
For a fleeting moment, I see it—the fear in her deep, brown eyes.
But look, it’s only fair that I come clean with this news, so she can understand from the get-go that this isn’t going to be some sweet lovemaking bullshit. Romantic affairs and me just don’t mix, in case that’s what she’s thinking.
“Okay,” she says meekly, bracing her legs apart, holding herself at the knees in preparation. I admit, she looks a little funny, and for a split second, I wonder if she’s done this before. But there’s no way a woman can swallow a cock and balls like a gangbang whore the way she did and not have experience.
“Good girl, spread them. Hold them right there just for me,” I say, savoring the view—this pretty little woman with the doll face—completely open and waiting for me to take her.
My cock twitches, rising and falling, as I step up to her. I hold her knees apart, drag my cock up and down against her wet cunt, and coat myself with those juices. Her tits look too good, falling slightly to either side, and I realize I haven’t even had a moment to taste them. We started so hard and so fast, neither of us slowing down to savor, so fucking desperate to get into each other’s pants.
Falling between her legs, I poise the tip of my cock right at her entrance and lean down to cup her breasts. Squeezing them together, I move my lips from one taut nipple to the other, flicking my tongue on the tiny eraser heads. They’re pink and match her pussy and her natural blonde shades, and I want to bite them, suck on them, drive her crazy with my lips and tongue.
But I only suckle on them, and for a minute, I almost forget that I’m ready to fuck her, so drowned in their roundness and softness I am. She lets down her guard, too, wrapping her hands around my hair, digging her fingers into my scalp. She smells so sweet and fragrant, I could fall asleep right against that pounding heart.
Except—my cock is still hard and raging—and I need her. Now.
