by S. C. Adams
She looks back at me with a devious grin and a spark in her eye. I press my body against her and kiss the back of her shoulder before plunging my hard cock into her begging pussy. She moans out loudly, and I take the opportunity to bite down on that sweet spot at the base of the neck. Her screams become more pleasurable by the second.
I thrust harder than I have before, keeping her pressed firmly against the counter. Harder and harder I fuck her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She lets herself go buck wild and screams out my name amidst howling moans of sheer pleasure.
My cock throbs within her, hot and wanting. Her tight pussy welcomes my every thrust as deep as I can go. I can feel the tip of my cock pressing up against her cervix with each thrust. She moans loudly, and I moan along with her.
I wrap one arm around her breasts, grasping on firmly. I wrap the other down around her waist, pulling her against me as I thrust. She moans at my touch, and I moan against her neck as I kiss it and nibble lightly.
Then I slide my hand down between her legs and start rubbing her sensitive little clitoris with my fingers while thrusting as hard as I can behind her. Her moaning gets louder; I didn’t think it was possible. I moan along with her, feeling her pussy ripple and contract around my cock.
Only mere moments later, she is screaming my name and cumming harder than ever. I try so hard to keep from ending, but I can’t. I hug her close to my body, moaning her name as my cock throbs and fills her. I can feel my seed dripping down my cock, her tight pussy unable to hold it all.
We continue to moan softly for a short while, our bodies still pressed together. I kiss her neck and hug her close, placing a hand over her belly.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Epilogue
Claire
One year later.
It’s been so wonderful. I don’t think I could’ve imagined a life any better than the one I have now. I’ve been living in Alex’s brownstone since I was six months pregnant, and he’s been a doll. Imelda has been a tremendous help too, enough so that I made sure she got a raise for putting up with me.
Our little baby boy, Noah, is only four months old, and it seems like just yesterday that we brought him home. Sadie is ecstatic to be a big sister. She’s been great. She brought me snacks while I was pregnant, and we would snuggle up and watch movies all day while Alex was at work.
She started kindergarten not that long ago and has been loving it. She’s met all sorts of new friends and is really coming along with her studies. I never thought that I would be a stay-at-home mom with two kids and a house and all of that stuff. But here we are, and I couldn’t be happier.
Imelda has just gotten home from picking up Sadie, who bursts through the door to give me a big hug and to kiss her little brother on the head. Imelda comes in and gives me a hug, then lightly pinches Noah’s cheek, her normal greeting to him.
“Mi principito,” Imelda whispers, giving him a kiss on the forehead.
I sit on the couch and help Sadie with her homework. We’re on numbers this week. Noah is in a cradle next to us, and Imelda is in the kitchen cooking something up for dinner.
Sadie has really been improving with her numbers, letters, and colors. We sit on the couch together singing the ABCs and counting things around the living room. I have her run around and describe things so she can learn. She’s been really good at the game.
Less than an hour later, the front door opens and there is Alex, holding an armful of roses and a small box. Sadie immediately darts toward him and gives him a big hug. He smiles and kisses her forehead. Then he whispers something in her ear, and she gets really excited. She runs over to Imelda.
I get up and approach him. We kiss each other lovingly.
“What’re all these for?” I ask.
He chuckles. “You forgot?”
I stare at him blankly. What did I forget? Clearly something important. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing before me with roses.
He smiles and kisses me again. “We started dating a year ago.”
I gasp and place my hands over my mouth. I totally forgot. So much has been happening that it skipped my mind entirely. It’s not that it doesn’t mean anything to me, but having a baby, moving, and starting a family are a lot to keep track of.
He smiles at me and give me a big hug, then hands me the bouquet of roses. I watch him bend down on one knee, and I almost burst into tears of happiness right then and there.
The little box in his hands is raised toward me. He opens it to reveal a magnificent ring. “Claire Daniels, will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Claire Bryant?”
I can’t hold back the tears. They come bursting forth, and I drop down to hug him while screaming “Yes!” at the top of my lungs. Sadie runs over shouting that she gets to be a flower girl and jumps on top of us.
I kiss Alex and embrace him tenderly, then pull Sadie between us for a group hug. This is exactly where I want to be.
THE END
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Sneak Peek: British Daddy To Go
Maggie
Racks of designer tuxes flash by as I struggle to keep pace with the spritely old man giving me a tour of my new job.
“This is the front end,” he explains. The pitch of his voice is higher than mine, and his steps are a bit too jovial for his age. “You won’t be spending much time up here unless you’re working for a specific client. You’re still expected to dress professionally in case we need to you to take measurements or check a fitting. However, our customers will rarely see you.”
Roger Cooper’s eyes rake over my frumpy outfit. My body folds into itself under his scrutiny. These clothes looked good when I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, but compared to other salespeople, I look like one of the homeless people lining the city streets. With my first few paychecks, I’ll be buying some nicer clothes from the other Madison Avenue stores I pass by to get here.
“Understood,” I say meekly. Roger pauses to talk with another salesperson, and I take the opportunity to look around the actual store. Designer suits line the walls and make even the plastic mannequins look worthy of a job on Wall Street. During my initial interview, Roger told me that Havisham’s has a minimum price for the suits they sell: $2,000. The number made me gasp, seeing that I’ve never had that kind of money in my life.
Just from where we stand, I can see designer tags I’ve only ever glimpsed while window shopping. There’s Brioni, Burberry, Armani… my whole life, I’ve dreamed of walking among clothes like these. I wonder if this is going to be the only chance I’ll ever get.
Roger finishes his conversation with the leggy blonde model saleswoman. Apparently, you have to look like you could walk in New York Fashion Week to get a front office job at Havisham’s. But I’m okay with being behind the scenes. I worked the front desk at my parents’ dry cleaning business until two weeks ago, so I know how difficult it can be to manage customers sometimes. Instead, I prefer holding fabric in my hands and feeling the steady vibration of a sewing machine as I perfectly stich a quarter-inch seam. The back of Havisham’s is where I belong. Plus, working up front won’t get me closer to my dream of being a designer anyway. I need the hands-on experience of being a tailor if I want my dream to become a reality.
“Now, let’s get you settled into your work station,” Roger trills. We travel from the front of the store through a curtain to where they keep the less beautiful people. A few women much older than me sit behind ancient sewing machines with their eyes focused on dark pants and pin-striped suit jackets. No one as much as glances up at us, keeping their hands steady as they hem and pull their various projects.
“As you can see, every one of our special tailors has a station back here. You are to work from your station on any projects to which you are assigned. Since you’re new and only an assistant tailor, you’ll only have one or two clients per week. Once you’ve proven yourself, there will be the chance for more.” He looks down h
is heavily arched nose at me with a questioning brow. I nod meekly. “Of course,” I say. Satisfied, he nods once and moves on.
“This is your station.” Roger stops in front of a desk identical to the others in the room, right down to the outdated sewing machine. Beside the machine is a basket of other important materials that any good tailor can’t go without, like a measuring tape, hand-sewing needles, and extra spools of sturdy thread. “You are expected to maintain a certain level of neatness. When your shift is over, your station is to be left in the same manner in which you found it. You may keep small trinkets or photos on your station, but they should be kept to a minimum.”
I swallow nervously. Havisham’s is turning out to be a lot more intense than I’d expected. It’s nothing like the dry cleaners my parents own. We hire outside employees to handle whatever the three of us can’t do, but those people are never scrutinized as if for show. But what can I do?
“Okay,” I mumble when I realize he’s waiting for a response.
“If you need any more supplies, you will ask the head tailor. Her name is Gloria, and you’ll meet her in a few minutes when her shift begins.”
This time, Roger doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he takes a few long strides toward the back of the crowded room and points to a paper tacked on the wall. “These are the assignments for each day. As I mentioned earlier, you’ll only have a couple of clients at a time, so your assignments won’t change much. If you’re still here after thirty days, this sheet will list which piece you are to work on each day. The chart keeps things moving efficiently.”
It sounds rigid to me, but I don’t say anything. Havisham’s has been in business for longer than my parents have been alive. If this system works for them, then it must be a good system. Who am I to say how to run a business? They have to be good to compete with the other designer shops surrounding this tall brick building.
Roger moves on to a white board hanging on the wall a few feet from the assignment sheet. “This is the break chart. Each morning, the shift leader will designate break times for everyone who’s working that day. If you miss your break, you may not go later. It is your responsibility to take your break at the scheduled time.”
“Understood,” I say again. I’m not up on my New York labor laws, but I’m fairly certain it’s the employer’s responsibility to make sure everyone takes their breaks. Again, I can’t say anything, though. My parents would gladly give me my old job back if I asked them, but that’s the last thing I want. I got this job to gain some independence, not to fail on my first day.
“Roger,” someone shouts from behind another set of dark curtains. “Are you here?”
Roger claps his hands together. “I’m giving the new assistant tailor a tour, Andrea. Is there something I can help you with?”
A petite blonde emerges from behind the curtain. “I have your client list ready for you.”
“Perfect, Andrea. Meet our new assistant tailor. This is Maggie. Maggie, this is my assistant, Andrea.”
Her smile is pleasant, and her handshake is firm. “It’s nice to meet you, Maggie,” she tells me. “Welcome to Havisham’s.”
I smile hesitantly. “Thank you. I’m really excited to be here.”
Andrea goes back behind the curtain, which I now remember leads to Roger’s office. I had my interview there. I was so nervous at the time that I hadn’t paid any attention to the rest of the back-end. It was my first interview ever. I’m still surprised Roger offered me the job.
“Shall we continue the tour?” Roger asks. He waves his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “Over here is the break room. Label any food you put in the fridge. Clean up after yourself. Don’t talk loudly on your cell phone if other people are in the room with you. All common courtesy stuff.”
“I can handle that.”
I’m running out of affirmative phrases. Pretty soon, I’ll be forced to break out the informal ones like, “Got it.” Roger seems like the kind of guy who would be okay with a little informal speak, but I’m not going to risk it. It’s only my first day, and I want to stay on Roger’s good side.
“Do you have any questions, Maggie?”
I shake my head. “I think I understand everything. I’m excited to get to work.”
He claps his hands together again. This must be his signature move. It fits with his tall leprechaun image. “Excellent!” He glances around the room and hones in on a woman my mother’s age who’s taking a seat at one of the tailor stations. “And Gloria has arrived! Let me introduce you to her, and she’ll get you started.”
My flamboyant boss skips to Gloria’s desk. “Gloria!” he practically shouts. “This is your new assistant tailor, Maggie. Maggie, this is the head tailor, Gloria.”
Gloria lifts her eyes to meet mine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maggie. Do you have experience with sewing?”
Roger sighs. “Do you think I’d hire her if she didn’t?”
“Yes.”
He laughs. “Well, this one does. She brought clothes she made herself to her interview!”
Gloria’s eyes light up. “Perfect.” To me, she adds, “The last assistant he brought me didn’t know a bobbin from a Barbie doll.”
I gasp. “No!”
“Yes!” she laughs. “It was awful. The poor girl didn’t last a week. I think you’ll do fine.”
“I hope so.”
Roger claps again, causing Gloria to roll her eyes. He doesn’t catch the motion, though I don’t think he would mind. Roger seems to have a soft spot for Gloria. That’s even more reason for me to stay on Gloria’s good side. I want them both to like me.
“I’ll leave you two to it, then!” he exclaims. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office. And welcome to the team, Maggie!”
He’s behind the thick, black curtain in just a few long steps. I stare after him, trying to get a read on my new boss. Does he like me? Does he hate me? I can’t tell. Half of the time, Roger was harsh during our walk through the store. Just now with Gloria, though, he seemed almost warm toward me. I wish I could figure the guy out! My people skills are pretty good from working at the dry cleaner, but this guy eludes me. I’ll get there eventually. Maybe Gloria can give me some tips.
“Why don’t you pull your chair over to my station for today and get a feel for what you’ll be doing? Have you ever tailored before?”
I nod. “My parents like to buy secondhand clothes that don’t quite fit any of us. I learned early on to use a sewing machine to make them wearable.”
“That’s good, practical experience. You won’t be sewing anything secondhand here, though. We only sell brand new, custom-tailored suits, tuxes, and other men’s clothing. For now, you’ll be working on just the suits since they’re the easiest to tailor. Mostly adjusting sleeves and pant legs.”
I quickly drag my chair over to Gloria’s station and watch as she pulls out a pair of chalk-marked slacks. “I have seven regular clients who come in monthly for a new suit. On top of that, I’ll work with a few newcomers or one-time shoppers. We have the quickest turnaround on Madison Avenue, which keeps us busy. Our goal is to have full custom suits fitted and out the door within a month.”
“A month?” I ask. “Isn’t that nearly impossible?”
She laughs sweetly. “Not impossible, dear. But certainly not easy. Monday mornings are slow, which is why most of our tables are empty. This room is usually filled with whirring sewing machines. And we do all of the tailoring in-house. That’s how Havisham’s has done it since the beginning, and we’re not about to change that anytime soon.”
“Good,” I say. “It’s better to have in-house tailors. Especially if someone needs multiple fittings.”
“You do get it!” Gloria says. “I’m going to like you.”
“I hope so.”
I watch silently as Gloria cuffs the pants and sews off a new hem. The work is relatively quick but meticulous. Gloria squints at the plunging needle as she carefully feeds the pant leg through the machine. When sh
e finishes one, she immediately gets to work on the other.
“Sorry I’m not talking much, dear.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “This is more of an observation kind of job. I can learn just by watching you.”
“That’s good,” she replies. “I’ll grab a suit jacket next so you can see how I work on that.”
Gloria pulls a navy blue jacket from her stash of projects. No one else has a rolling cart of drawers beneath their desk, so I’m guessing Gloria gets special treatment. The rest of the projects are hung or folded in the back of the room next to the assignment sheet.
“This jacket is unique because we’re actually pulling it in a bit. More work than the usual sleeve adjustments.”
I watch in awe as Gloria makes quick work of tailoring the jacket. It’s the same piece of fabric when she’s finished, but it looks like a brand new coat. “That looks amazing!”
She smiles. “Thank you, dear. How about you try the next set of pants?”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
Gloria puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You can do it, dear. And remember: we can always pull the seam and start over. Unless you start cutting fabric, there’s nothing you can do that we can’t fix.”
Her words are a relief. We switch seats, and I change the thread to a strong black to match the pants I’ll be sewing. With Gloria hovering beside me, I try to zone out and focus only on the pants. It works, and the new hem comes out perfectly.
“You’re a natural!” she gushes. “I don’t see why you can’t start on your own projects right now.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. “You think so?”
“I know so. I’ll be right here if you need me, but I think you’ll be fine. Just come run your finished products by me before you check them off.”
