by M. Robinson
She grabbed the new phone I bought her this morning before heading to the barbeque. Longing to be around my family, another desire I gave into because of her.
Once she turned on the music, my cock took on a mind of his own.
When her hands dropped to her knees, so did the zipper of my slacks. Before I knew what I was doing, I unbuttoned my pants and pulled out my rock-hard dick. Needing some fucking release.
Within seconds, I was stroking my shaft.
Watching the way her hips swayed.
The way her perky tits stood at attention.
The way her luscious ass bounced up and down, imagining it was my cock she was riding.
“The fuck am I doing?” I pleaded in distress.
I’d only ever been with one woman, and there I was, fucking my fist to another like a teenage boy. Feening for her pussy.
Her hands worked their way up her body, spinning in a slow, torturous circle. I pumped my dick harder and faster, my hips moving in the opposite direction of my hand. Seeing her every move effortlessly through dark, dilated, hooded eyes.
“Christ…” I groaned out a little too loudly on the edge of coming, but not quite there yet.
My chest was rising and falling with each drive of my hand, stroking my cock to the sight of her.
To the sinful goddamn vision in front of me.
Getting harder and harder, the head of my dick bulging, bright fucking purple.
To the point of pain.
To the point of agony.
To the point of wanting to come so hard.
My eyes widened.
My breathing hitched.
My entire body shook.
Her ass lowered to the ground and she gradually, smoothly rocked her way back up to the beat of the music. Turning her back to me.
The view I wanted.
Needed.
Craved.
Was her ass in my face.
“Fuck…”
I bit my lower lip and came so fucking hard I saw stars from the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced. Licking my dry lips, I avoided my reflection in the glass like it was the plague. Leaning my head against the wall instead.
The shame quickly taking me under. I let out a long, deep breath, rasping, “I’m so fucked.”
Thinking…
Where do we go from here?
But mostly importantly, where do I go from here?
Chapter 12
<>Camila<>
I dropped my booty to the ground and rocked my way back up to the beat of the music, whipping my hair around clockwise with my torso. The rhythm taking over my body completely as I continued to put on my best performance yet.
My back turned toward the house, full ass on display. I got down low again, twerking left to right with my hands out at my sides. Feeling my way up my frenzied skin.
Fuck, it felt good.
As the song was coming to an end, a familiar heavy presence filled my lungs, making it hard to breath. Causing every emotion possible to suddenly make themselves known throughout my body.
Aiden?
I spun around unexpectedly, searching. My rapid breathing hitched in my throat as my eyes simultaneously flew to the direction of his office window. Subconsciously knowing that’s where he would be, except I didn’t expect he’d be watching me.
Was he?
All I could see was a shadowy figure in the moonlight with his head leaning against the wall next to the bay window.
What was he doing?
Within seconds, he looked up as if he felt me too, and we locked stares from across the patio.
His appearance was comforting and afflicting all at once. The way he just stood there enraptured me in the same way it always had. There was a predatory, yet captivating look in his hooded glare. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his, and I didn’t want to. It was becoming evident I could watch this man all day, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
My heart pounded out of my chest, my head ran wild.
Was he watching me dance? Was that why he’s standing there all Aiden-like?
Every last fiber of my being told me that’s what he was doing, and the thought alone made me wet. Turning me on to the point of feeling an intense tingle in between my thighs.
Shit…
The obscene thoughts that quickly took over my reasoning, made me glance away. I swear he could see my brain swarming with images of him watching me and feeling as turned on as I was.
When I peered back up into his office, he was gone.
Did I just imagine that? Had he not been there?
“Camila, you have officially lost your shit,” I spoke out loud, grabbing my things off the lounger before heading inside and up to my room.
My room.
The thought even sounded messed up in my head.
Walking inside the space I’d been staying in whenever I slept over, I threw my things on the bed. Instantly noticing my suitcase was tucked in the closet and my clothes were all hanging up instead of on the bed where I left it this morning.
Did he put my clothes away today?
Now, that thought alone sent my hormones into sexual overdrive, thinking he wanted me here that much.
No, he just wants to keep you safe. Or maybe it’s a little bit of both?
The image of Aiden watching me dance didn’t leave my focus as I took a cold shower. The wicked ache in my core only intensified with each passing second. The sensations of the frigid water running down my overheated thighs was enough to send me over the edge.
Especially, since the last time I had sex was with Sean years ago. Towards the end of our relationship things were so strained between us, I couldn’t even get off with him anymore.
I needed a release.
I was like an atomic bomb ready to blow up.
Sex wasn’t just a physical thing for me. I needed the chemistry, the heat, the passion…
The love.
Knowing he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants didn’t help my disposition. It made it nearly impossible for me to enjoy our intimate times together, and trust me, Sean always gave me his best moves. Spending hours trying to get me to have the big O, simply to come up empty.
Literally.
I hated him, but hated myself even more when I did let him back in. It was a mess, we were a mess. But he was a body, and I wasn’t ready to be alone. Plus, he knew exactly how to manipulate me. Lying to me every chance he got, as if it were his favorite sport. I wanted to believe him, although I always knew better.
I hadn’t experienced this level of lust in what felt like forever. The whole time I showered, I resisted the urge to slide my hand down wanting to relieve the throb in my pussy.
My fingers inched down, only to stop right above where I need them to circle. It would be useless, my toy got left behind and I could never get myself off with only my hand. I needed the stimulation a toy provided.
My desire for release didn’t ease up, if anything it deepened while I was putting on my pajamas. The silk shorts and camisole slid smoothly along my overly sensitive skin.
The inviting, comfortable cushion of my bed dipped beneath my knees as I crawled under the cool sheets. I laid down in the middle of the queen-sized mattress and ran my fingers along the soft, cotton down comforter. It felt heavy and warm on my body that was too wound up. Needing to pleasure myself in other ways.
I could no longer resist the craving, I pulled off the covers, sinking deep into the sheets. Longing to feel any way I could.
Sighing in defeat, I gave into the temptation and allowed my imagination to take over.
My fingers moved on their own accord, gliding across my hard nipples calling out to be touched. I rolled them between my fingers, flicking and pinching the small pebbles just enough to set my body on fire.
Picturing Aiden watching me dance through sinful eyes. The eyes I couldn’t get enough of.
My fingers hooked the lace band of my panties, slipping them down my freshly shaved legs until they rea
ched my ankles.
The tip of my tongue glided against my dry lips, envisioning the way he stared at me as my ass dropped to the ground.
With one hand kneading my breast, the other slowly treading toward my belly button and down toward the top of my pussy. Caressing the lining of my soft, bare folds.
I was soaking wet.
For him.
If he was watching me dance, did he like what he saw? Did he play with himself imagining it was me? Like I’m imagining its him that’s between my legs and not my hand?
I touched my clit, manipulating the bundle of nerves harder, faster, and with more urgency. I moaned, arching my head back against the pillows. I closed my eyes, visualizing the way he might have felt, the way he may have been turned on by my dancing.
Moving my fingers from my clit to the opening of my pussy, I pushed my middle finger in, adding my index finger shortly after. Easing in and out of my tight hole, beginning to breathe heavier the closer I got to my climax.
I don’t know when things took a drastic turn, but as I glided my fingers back to my clit, swaying my hips, I imagined it was his cock I was riding.
“Oh, God,” I panted, picturing his face as his dick slid in and out of me.”
I swallowed hard, taking a deep, heady breath. Spreading my thighs wider, I hissed upon contact with my clit yet again. All the nerve endings on my nub on high alert from my assault.
His dominating demeanor.
His controlling tone.
His entire persona.
Set my nerves on fucking fire.
My eyes were half closed, my legs trembling the warmer I got to just letting go, even with the images of him touching me, caressing me, making me come…
I still couldn’t go over the edge of wanting to combust.
But then, I thought I heard him groan, “Fuck me,” through the door.
It was so soft.
So light.
Barely above a whisper.
Did I just imagine that too?
Just as fast as that question hit me, another one came as well.
Shit, did I lock the door?
<>Aiden<>
As soon as she averted her gaze, I backed away from the bay window in my office.
Did she just see what I was doing?
I spent the next thirty minutes going fucking insane. Pacing my office floor back and forth, wanting to tear my goddamn hair out.
How do I explain myself? Maybe she didn’t see?
“The fuck?”
How could I be so careless?
I prayed I would find the nerve to face her again.
What would I say? What would she say?
I battled the questions, the thoughts, the sensations tearing into my state of mind.
My conscience.
I would never forget the look on her face when our eyes met. Although I shouldn’t have, I surrendered to the gravitational force that was brought on by our connection.
There was no stopping it.
Logic screamed at me to go talk to her. Find out what she saw.
Deep down it was a moment of weakness for me, right?
My mind was made up as soon as my feet started moving, unable to continue this mental torture for another second.
No doubt, I needed to talk to her.
My thoughts once again shifted gears with each determined stride toward her bedroom, thinking about that afternoon. How I found myself in her bedroom, pissed as fuck to see her suitcase was still on the bed.
Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers were unzipping the luggage, shuffling through her shit to put it away for her. My cock twitched at the feel of her panties between my calloused fingertips as I placed them in her dresser drawer.
It didn’t sit well with me that she hadn’t unpacked and made herself at home yet. Especially when she was the one responsible for turning my house back into a home. A home that was slowly coming back to life.
Each and every thought plagued me as I walked down the hall. My craze and rationality raging war with one another, but the inclination to let it go didn’t outweigh the willpower. I had to find out how much she’d seen.
Right when I was about to knock on her door, I heard a soft moan echo off the walls of her room.
Was she fucking herself for me, the way I had just done for her?
I stood there with my hand on the door, cemented to the tile floor beneath me. Rooted to the spot by some unexplainable force holding me hostage. Incapable to move for the life of me.
Carefully listening…
Waiting.
Seconds later, I swear I could hear her heady breathing, her muffled moans, her delicate sighs. Smelling her intoxicating fucking scent through the ventilation. Imagining her pussy glistening from her own arousal.
It lingered in the air.
In the atmosphere
In my fucking cock.
Making me think twice about my plan.
“Oh God,” she purred.
I had just fucked my fist to the sight of her, but it wasn’t enough. My dick throbbed in my pants, springing to life, pushing, pulsating, greedy against the zipper of my slacks.
I envisioned her hand between her thighs.
The burning look in her eyes.
The way she was coming apart at the seams, fisting the sheets.
Her legs trembling…
Her pussy tightening…
The taste of her come…
“Fuck me,” I said a little too loud.
Immediately, I froze.
Shit, did she just hear me?
I hesitated for something, anything, a sign to lead me one way or the other.
Nothing came out of that room.
Not a moan.
Not a whimper.
Not one fucking sound.
Fuck, she heard me. That much was crystal fucking clear.
Which didn’t help my frame of mind. It only multiplied the persistent badgering by a thousand.
I willed myself to turn around, to walk away, and take a cold shower in the bathroom down the hall. Fighting the hunger, the urge, and thirst to jack off again with the audible sounds of her fucking herself playing like a broken fucking record in my head.
The impulses were as reckless as they were endless.
I spent the entire night on the patio for the first time in what felt like years, sitting in the lounger she had placed her clothes on. Her scent lingering in the warm night’s air. Rubbing my fingers back and forth along my lips, only picturing her dancing for me.
The song that was playing hypnotized the illusion of her in front of me. The way her hips swayed, begging my fingers to dig into her soft skin. The way she made her ass bounce, wishing it were on my cock. The way her perfect tits glistened in the moon light, the wet triangles of her bathing suit top clinging to her nipples.
Fuck. I needed to stop this.
Battling off the sexual thoughts, I contemplated my life, my journey, and her role in it.
She’s my kids’ nanny…
It was as simple as that.
Then why do I keep envisioning a future…
With her in it.
Chapter 13
<>Camila<>
I woke up early the next morning to the sound of a baby babbling through the monitor. About a month ago, Journey started the habit of gabbing to herself in the mornings when she awoke.
She’d spend a good thirty, sometimes forty-five minutes speaking gibberish, and letting out high pitched shrieks followed by more baby talk, entertaining herself. Like she was planning her day ahead or something.
There were instances when she’d break out in a fit of giggles. Full on belly laughs, and I couldn’t figure out what brought her so much joy with the sunrises.
It always made me smile, laying there listening to her go on and on. Except this morning my head was spinning over Aiden, losing my focus. Walking around my room, I went through the motions of getting ready to go tend to Little Miss, thinking about the night before.
&nbs
p; Feeling an overload of emotions.
I’d go from feeling embarrassed with my cheeks flushing from each seductive thought to nervous jitters from anticipating our first interaction after last night’s eye-locking session. It went from one extreme to the next.
Good thing I didn’t have to worry about that anytime soon. It wasn’t like he was ever home, especially this early in the morning. Who knows how long it would be till the next time we’d see each other, or he’d make his presence known.
The realization caused a whole new set of emotions to take over, eliciting sadness to fill my heart. Instantly pulling me into a deep, dark, and depressing place.
I wanted to see him.
Talk to him.
Get to know him some more.
Not only as the father of the kids I loved, but also as the man who’d held me captive since day one.
I sighed, hating the sentiment wreaking mayhem in my world.
“You’re the kids’ nanny, Camila. Just the kid’s nanny,” I told myself as I headed down the hallway to the sassy pants’ nursery.
Who was singing a song, “Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, da, da, da, da, ma, da, ma, ma, da…”
I rounded the corner and found her bouncing up and down. Hanging onto the railing and shaking her booty to the beat of her own tune.
“Ma!” she excitingly exclaimed, her face lighting up when she saw me. “Ma! Ma! Ma!”
I chuckled, I couldn’t help it. She was a breath of fresh air in the morning with her beaming expression for me.
It was contagious.
“Baby girl, my name is Ca-mi-la,” I accentuated, picking her up. Blowing raspberries onto her chubby neck.
She squirmed, throwing back her head. “Ma!” she giggled, proud of herself for repeating one part of my name.
“What am I going to do with you, Journey?”
“A ba da be, Ma,” she replied, smiling that toothy grin that reminded me so much of her brother Jackson.
“Are you hungry?”
She wobbled her head around and I understood it as a yes.
“Okay.” I kissed her cheek before grabbing the bottle on top of her book shelf, finding it warm.
