British Daddy To Go: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Adams, S. C.

  “Oh, that feels good,” I tell him. “Don’t stop doing that.”

  “I don’t plan on it,” he says. His warm breath adds to my intensifying pleasure.

  Then Sean adds a finger. It’s just one, probably knuckle deep, but it’s enough. The new feeling and the terrifying, incredible pressure push me over the edge. My entire body quakes.

  As I regain my breathing, I can’t help but laugh. “So that’s what an orgasm feels like.”

  Sean sits beside me on the bench and kisses my neck. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “I did. More than you know.”

  He moves his mouth to mine, and I taste myself for the first time. It’s a little sweet, which surprises me. I kind of like it.

  “It’s your turn,” I say into Sean’s lips.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Maggie.”

  His words are sweet, but I want this. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. “I’d like to learn.”

  Sean grins. “Okay, darling. Take it slow.”

  He unbuckles his belt and lowers his pants and boxer briefs. His member isn’t hanging to the left anymore. Instead, it stands straight up, like it wants to say hello.

  “Did I do this?”

  “All for you, darling.”

  That British accent nearly undoes me again. Every time he calls me darling, I feel like I might orgasm again.

  For the second time today, I kneel in front of Sean. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit. “You’ll have to guide me.”

  “Gladly,” he responds. His hands find my hair again. “Open your mouth, darling. Keep your teeth covered. And just… go ahead.”

  That seems simple enough, but his penis is huge. “Are they always this big?”

  “You sure know how to stroke a guy’s ego,” Sean laughs. “But no, not really. They come in all sizes.”

  That’s intimidating, but I meant what I said. I want to learn.

  I do what Sean instructed me to do. The taste is weird at first. It’s a little salty, but not so much that I need a glass of water.

  “Maggie? Sean?” Roger yells from outside the dressing room.

  “Shit,” Sean mumbles under his breath. I slide my mouth from his cock reluctantly. I’d only just gotten a taste before Roger had to come and ruin it!

  Sean pulls his slacks up over his erection and smiles. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll handle this,” he whispers. He quickly puts his pants back on. “Give me five minutes and then get out of here, okay?”

  “Okay,” I respond. He disappears through the door before I have a chance to say anything else.

  “Where’s Maggie?” Roger asks.

  “The loo,” Sean answers. “She did a great job, Roger. You hired a good one.”

  Their voices disappear into the distance. Five minutes pass, and I put my clothes back on, run my fingers through my hair, and walk out into the empty dressing room.

  My shift is over, so I leave the measurements on my desk and head out.

  I’ve been dreaming about my first day of work outside of my parents’ business for a long time.

  What happened today is far from what I had expected, but I loved every second of it. And I can only hope Sean comes back for another suit so that I can relive today over and over again. Only next time, we won’t be interrupted before I can give him the same release he gave me.

  4

  Sean

  I can still taste Maggie on my lips. Will I ever get the real thing again? I sure hope so.

  “We’ll have your suit ready…” Roger begins. I can’t listen to this man’s chirping any longer, so I hold up my hand to stop him.

  “I have a meeting to attend to,” I lie. “Can you call my assistant with the details?”

  Roger nods. “Of course, sir. We’ll handle the details.”

  The small man bows. What’s up with that? Does he think I’m a prince or something? I’m rich, but I’m not royal. There’s no need to bow. I’ve told Roger this a million times, but he won’t stop. It’s one of the many annoying things about him.

  If the suits at Havisham’s weren’t the best in the city, I’d find somewhere with less obnoxious workers.

  Now that I’ve met Maggie, though, there’s no way I’m going anywhere else. That woman was my undoing. I don’t go around having sex in dressing rooms often. Even if I did, I doubt the encounters would have been anything like what I’d just experienced with Maggie. Her soft, warm lips around me… it had been clear this was her first time engaging in the activity, but she would have gotten the hang of it if she’d had more time. Damn Roger for interrupting us before she was finished!

  My phone rings. “Curses,” I mutter, knowing exactly who is calling me.

  “Mother,” I say. If nothing else, at least this calms down my nether regions after my dressing room romp. It would have been embarrassing to walk around the city with a hard-on.

  “Is that how you always answer your phone?”

  I sigh. “Of course not. I knew it was you.”

  She may be an ocean away, but I can see her fixing her dyed blonde hair, a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. How she can balance her vices and her phone is a mystery I’ve never figured out.

  “All the more reason to be polite, my dear. You could be nicer to your old mother.”

  My mother is hardly old. She and my father married young and had me at twenty-two, making her just shy of sixty-seven. Plus, her plastic surgery and expensive beauty routines make her look closer to my age. On the rare occasion we’re seen in public together, people assume she’s my sister. Or, unfortunately, my wife.

  “Is there a particular reason for your call, Mum?”

  She huffs into the receiver. “Does a mother need a reason to call her son?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. You haven’t come home to visit in years, dear. You had to suspect this was coming.”

  It’s been less than a year since I’d traveled to England to see my parents, but telling my mother this is pointless. Time travels at her speed. Plus, she gets mad when she’s not the primary reason for my visit. My last trip to England was for business, so I’d only spent an evening with my parents. If we’re going by the last time I went to England solely to spend time with Mum and Dad, then it’s been two and a half years. I still don’t think that’s long enough for her to be in a tizzy.

  “What are you saying, Mother? I have work to do.”

  “Your father and I are coming to visit,” she informs me in her clipped, proper English accent. I tried hard to lose mine when I moved to America for school. It’s twenty-five years later now, and I still sound like I should be having tea with the queen.

  I’m so distracted by the whole accent thing that I nearly miss what she told me. “You’re coming where to visit?”

  “America, of course! We’ve always wanted to come to the colonies, and now is the perfect time. Your father is retired, and I don’t have any events coming up that need my attention.”

  “Wait a second, Mother. When is this visit happening?” I stop walking, much to the chagrin of the other busy New York City patrons.

  Mum sighs again. I might get that habit from her. My assistant is especially unimpressed by how often I sigh. “Two weeks.”

  “And how long are you staying?”

  “A month!” she cheers. “Isn’t that exciting? We want to see the city you abandoned us for!”

  There’s the zinger. Mother always brings it back to that. I went to Columbia for university instead of staying in England, and she’s never forgiven me for it. To make matters worse, I decided to work in New York and climb the corporate ladder quickly rather than join my father’s law firm. He has been far more forgiving than my mother, since he was able to sell his partnership in the firm and retire early. If I’d joined him at the firm, he would have felt obligated to stay in practice for a lot longer than he had. And retirement is serving him well.

  Mum, on the other hand, wanted my f
ather to stay at the firm until he was too frail to practice. Even then, she’d probably prefer he be a clerk or a paralegal or something. She’s a fan of the money.

  “So, you’re going to stay in New York for a day or two and then go see the rest of the U.S., right?”

  She laughs her high-pitched laugh. “Of course not, my dear! We’re not going to come see you just to gallivant around your new country. Who do you think we are?” We both pretend like this isn’t a dig at me, since that’s precisely what I do when I return home. At least my visits are for business, not just pleasure from which I exclude my parents!

  “My mistake, Mother. But you might get bored here in the city for a full month. Perhaps a week’s visit would be more suited to your schedule? I promise to come home for Christmas.”

  “Oh, dear, don’t make promises you can’t keep. That trading business of yours doesn’t close for the holidays, and we both know you won’t cross the ocean to see us. Instead, you’ll work so that your employees can have time with their families.”

  She has me there. I’ve worked through the holidays for twenty years. “So, you’ll be here for a whole month?”

  “A whole month!”

  It’s the first time I’ll be with my parents for that long since I was a teenager. Even summer breaks from college were spent stateside at internships or on the so called “alt-breaks” where I went to various states and built homes or cleaned up from natural disasters.

  I love my parents. They’re incredible people, and they’ve provided me with a brilliant life. But I’m not the kind of person who can live with his parents for a long time. I’m not the type to live with anyone for a long time. I like to be in charge.

  “I look forward to seeing you, Mum. I don’t know how much time I’ll have…”

  “We’ll see you for meals, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find time in your busy schedule to show your ailing parents around.”

  I laugh. “You and Dad are in perfect health.”

  “Details, dear. Carlo tells me you’re attending her son’s destination wedding. If you can make time for friends, you can make time for us.”

  She has me there. “You’re right, Mum. I’ll move some things around so that I can give you the grand tour.”

  “That’s all I ask, Sean. I’ll have Dreya send you our itinerary!”

  Of course, my parents have an itinerary already. Dreya is their house manager who also takes care of every aspect of their lives. She was my nanny once upon a time, which goes to show how long she’s been working for my parents.

  “Thanks, Mum. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  “Just a moment. Your father would like a word.”

  There’s a shuffling while my mother hands the landline to my dad. They’re the only people I know who have kept a landline. It’s the same corded phone they’ve had since I was a child, and their number hasn’t changed in that time, either.

  “Sean?” my father yells. He has yet to figure out that you don’t have to scream to be heard over the phone. “You there?”

  “I’m here, Dad.”

  He chuckles. “How are you, son?”

  “I’m well. Very busy with work, as I’m sure you know.”

  “I believe it. Your company is still doing well? No scandals to worry about?”

  I start walking again. Conversations with Dad are easier than talking with Mum. She doesn’t know that Dad and I talk weekly while she only gets calls twice a month. “Not a scandal in sight, Father. We run a tight ship.”

  “Exactly how I raised you. Now, how about a wife? Any prospects?”

  My mind flickers to Maggie, but I don’t mention her to my father. He’d make a mountain out of that mole hill. He’d also chastise me for shagging in a public dressing room. It probably wasn’t my classiest moment, and it was only oral sex, but it was still incredible. The best I’ve had in a long while, and she only barely put her mouth on me!

  “You’re hesitating. Is there someone I should know about?”

  “No, Father. Just thinking about work. You know I don’t have time for a relationship right now.”

  “Then when, Sean? Your mother and I had a college student by the time we were your age!”

  I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe it just isn’t in the cards for me.”

  “You’re wrong, Sean. You’ll find the right girl, and she’ll knock you off your feet. I just hope it isn’t too late.”

  You and me both, Dad, I think. To him, I say, “As soon as that happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “It’ll happen, Sean,” he assures me.

  It’s time to change the subject. “So, Mum tells me you’re making the trek to America.”

  He huffs. “She tells me that, too.”

  “Not looking forward to the trip?”

  “I’m happy to visit you; it’s the rest of the trip that I don’t care for. Your mother’s got it in her head that we should see ‘the colonies,’ as she’s taken to calling America. She wants to do one of those Hudson River tours. And go to the top of the Empire State!”

  I laugh. “She wants to be one of the tourists she despises in London. Maybe you and I can have a pint while she explores the city.”

  “I’d like that a lot, Sean. Listen, I should go. I have a golf outing in a bit. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Bye, Dad. Love you.”

  “You, too.”

  He hangs up just as I arrive at my penthouse suite. I loosen my tie and pour myself two fingers of scotch.

  My father’s words swirl through my mind as I settle onto my black leather couch. He said I would meet a girl someday who would knock me off my feet and finally convince me to settle down. What if I already have?

  What if Maggie is that girl?

  That thought both terrifies and excites me. I can see myself settling down with her.

  At the very least, I can see myself going down on her again.

  5

  Maggie

  Of course, my parents are waiting for me when I get home from work. It would have been far too much to ask for them to be at the dry cleaner or out to dinner instead of waiting for me by the door.

  “So!” they practically yell when I walk through the door of our seventh floor apartment. “How was your first day?”

  “It was good,” I mumble. My avoidance of their question does nothing to stop their prying.

  My mother blocks me from retreating to my room. “Tell us about your day!”

  “It was pretty boring,” I tell her. It’s sort of the truth. “I got a tour of the whole store, and then I shadowed the managing tailor for a bit.”

  “What an eventful first day!” Dad exclaims. If only he knew just how eventful my first day really was. “Do you like the job?”

  I shrug. “It’s interesting. I like the work, for sure. I got to sew a few things today. It’s nice being behind a sewing machine.”

  My mother claps her hands together excitedly, reminding me of Roger. The man had ruined the greatness happening in the dressing room! If he hadn’t shown up, how far would I have gone with Sean? I’m not sure, but it would have been pretty far. “That’s just wonderful, Maggie! I am so proud of you for getting your own job.”

  Dad puts his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “I am, too, Maggie. You’re spreading your wings.”

  “Thanks, Mom and Dad,” I say. I pull them both into a hug. “Thank you for letting me work at the store instead of the dry cleaners.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Just know that you’re welcome to come back if the work gets to be too much.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to go to my room for a bit. My first day made me pretty tired.”

  Mom flattens my hair and cups my chin, studying my face. “They’re not running you too hard, are they? I can call your boss…”

  Absolutely not. Twenty-five-year-old women do not have their mothers calling their bosses to complain about workloads. “I’m fine, Mom. It was my first day. I didn’t even have t
hat much work to do. I just didn’t sleep much last night because I was so excited.”

  “Okay, then. We’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

  I kiss my parents’ cheeks and push past them up the stairs. My room is at the end of the upstairs hallway, as far from my parents’ bedroom as I can get in our three-bedroom apartment. Their room is downstairs to the right of our front door, just off the kitchen. To the left of the door is our mediocre living room, containing just a single couch and a TV almost as old as I am. The space is plenty big enough for just the three of us, but it can feel stuffy at times. At least I can escape upstairs, where I have my own bathroom, when I need time to myself. Unfortunately, my father keeps an office on the second floor across from my room. He doesn’t use it often, but I feel less free when he’s upstairs with me.

  Once I’ve locked myself inside my room, I can breathe freely. My cheeks are flaming red. Mom and Dad probably assumed the color was from the twelve blocks I had to walk to get home from work. It’s better they think that than know the real reason.

  My parents would be appalled to find out what I did in the dressing room at work today. I’m appalled just thinking about it! How could I have given in to my desire like that? I don’t know anything about Sean, yet his lips have touched me in places no man – no person! – has ever touched me before.

  I feel a tingling in my personal area as I remember how it felt when Sean had kissed my lips, then my neck, and then my… other parts. My hand sneaks beneath my skirt and touches the sensitive skin. My entire body reacts to the stimulation.

  I can’t do this. How many times have my parents told me that touching myself there is wrong?

  Our church would shun me if they knew I’d sinned the way I did today. Is there a penance for allowing a man to touch you before marriage? There’s no way I can find out without giving myself away. Well, that might not be true.

  My parents didn’t want me to have a computer until I convinced them it could be educational. Then they’d caved and bought me one for my eighteenth birthday. I’ve had the same dinosaur since. It’s excruciatingly slow, but it works well enough. It doesn’t help that Mom and Dad pay for the slowest internet in existence, even though they can afford something faster. When I broached the subject a few years ago, they said, “We don’t always need to live life fast, Maggie. Perhaps we should cancel the internet altogether.” That made me stop asking.