My Boyfriend's Boss: A Forbidden Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  And the woman merely sighed and wiggled her hips from the steamy shower stall, not bothering to answer.

  “Come in and get it big boy,” she breathed, opening the stall door invitingly.

  Of course, I was on it like a flash. I was in that tiny space, taking what was mine all over again, the weird condom situation notwithstanding. Oh well, maybe things were a little out of order because she was so stunned from the mindblowing sex.

  But it actually happened a couple times. Lorena would always take the used condoms and forget to throw them away, which frankly was just unsanitary especially for someone who used to be a cleaning lady.

  “Baby, what the fuck?” I demanded, annoyed again at seeing another one next to the bathroom sink again. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you ditching these things?”

  And the woman gasped.

  “I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “I guess it’s from my days as a housekeeper. You know I had to clean so often that I love being sloppy now. Being messy and gross is like a strike against the universe, rebelling against my past.”

  “I get it,” I said, putting my arms around her waist. “I get it, you don’t have to do that stuff anymore,” I murmured into her neck. And Lorena sighed happily, exhaling loudly.

  “I knew you’d get it Mr. Markham, I knew you would,” she cooed, offering me her body again.

  And I took it, pushing the incident out of my mind, but it kept happening. Used condoms kept appearing here and there, I would find those limp suckers on the bathroom counter, behind the toothpaste, in the medicine cabinet, untied, my semen slopping around messily. It was fucking gross but I got it, Lorena had been a maid her whole life and being messy now was her form of rebellion.

  But those days of hot couplings seem to be growing few and far between now. Now, instead of getting to fuck her non-stop, Lorena’s drawing back, even withholding sex sometimes. Can you believe it? I married a penniless housekeeper for sex and now that we’re legally bound, she doesn’t feel the need to put out. The bitch has obviously never heard of conjugal rights.

  But I still feel the need to dominate, the urge to assert myself, my libido growing ever stronger, more overpowering by the day. Except there’s another factor that I never considered … my stepdaughter Cleo. She was a skinny, pale twig when I first met her, someone who never spoke, just looked with big green eyes. But recently, she’s changed. Eighteen now, her body’s matured, that ass round and juicy, and fuck me, but she hasn’t been wearing panties lately.

  I know … because she’s been watching me as I watch her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cleo

  I want to tempt my stepdad somehow, but I’m not exactly sure how. I mean, I’m still growing into my new body, so while the outside me is now curvy and tantalizing, the inside sometimes still feels like gangly fifteen year-old, complete with acne and braces.

  I’d heard my parents going at it again last night. As usual, my mom had spent the day by the pool doing absolutely nothing, and Drake had come home, stressed and anxious from work, needing a thorough blow job to relieve the steam.

  I could hear through the door of his suite, the thick oak not enough to stifle their argument.

  “On your knees,” he ground out, his voice low and commanding.

  “Oh Drake,” said my mom breezily. “You’re so funny! Only lazy women do what their men say, I’m an independent woman now.”

  “Fuck you bitch,” he rumbled again. “Get on your knees.”

  And I’d heard my mom dropping down to the carpet, no doubt pouting like a spoiled brat. But the whining didn’t stop there.

  “Open your mouth, bitch,” he growled.

  I heard a shriek from my mom, probably because he’d grabbed her hair, and forced it in rough. That thick, ten inch cock out, ready to do damage on her throat and mouth … mmmmm.

  But my mom wasn’t having any of it.

  “No Drake!” she cried. “I just got veneers, my teeth are going to rub off on your dick, tonight’s not a good night!” she squealed helplessly, her voice going up about an octave.

  With a massive roar of anger, Drake must have thrust my mom to the side, I heard a triumphant giggle as my mom stood up. Daddy had evidently given up, the veneer excuse too ridiculous and a fucking turn-off.

  “Bitch,” he ground out, heavy footsteps fast approaching the door.

  I jumped back and made like I’d just happened to be passing by, but it was too late. When the door swung open and my stepdad saw me, I think he knew that I’d overheard their exchange. “Hi … hi Daddy,” I said in a small voice.

  Drake didn’t utter a word, instead striding down the hall in long, sure steps to his study, slamming the door behind him. But I’d seen that dong. Still erect, it’d strained at his fly, the length so thick and long that it wrapped all the way around his hip, the bulge making my mouth salivate.

  And oh god … I wanted it. Wanted it bad.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Drake

  A knock came on my study door.

  “Daddy?” a little voice called.

  Fuck! This was such awful timing, I couldn’t believe Cleo had overheard my humiliation at the hands of her mom. Lorena had fucking gotten out of hand, and I was about to dial my lawyer to divorce her. Why did Cleo have to interrupt now?

  But my thoughts turned to my little step. Truth be told, I was starting to notice her more and more. It wasn’t just the way that she was the complete opposite of her mom, in looks and demeanor. It was her youth, her freshness, that untouched teen beauty that only the young have. I sighed. Fuck, this was my step-daughter. It felt like a crime to even think about her like this.

  But I called out, “Come,” and Cleo let herself in.

  I scanned her outfit, letting my gaze linger briefly on her ass and her tits. Damn, how things had changed in a year! When she’d moved in, she’d been all knobby knees, buckteeth, with wild frizzy hair, looking like the proverbial red-headed stepchild.

  But she’d changed and matured … in the best way possible. The hair had darkened to a gorgeous chestnut, complemented by creamy skin and jade-green, slanted eyes. There was a spattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and her body, oh god, her body.

  Obviously, Cleo dressed to show it off. She was wearing a short plaid skirt that ended just below her puss, with fishnets underneath and a tight baby tee top which outlined her curvy breasts and tiny waist. When had my little girl gotten so delicious?

  Sensing my gaze, she moved further into the office.

  “Daddy …” she began slowly. In the beginning, I was annoyed when she called me Daddy, I wasn’t exactly the paternal type. But now … now it sounded fucking sensuous and dirty.

  “Daddy,” she began again. “What’s going on between you and Mom?” she asked slowly.

  I sighed. Whining about a sexless marriage wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do, especially to my tantalizing teen stepdaughter. I mean, it’s a fucking embarrassing situation. Billionaire marries housemaid, only to have her turn into lazy ass wife once the papers were signed. I was such a cliché.

  “Nothing, baby,” I said soothingly, adjusting my crotch ever so slightly. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “You know Daddy,” she said, sidling closer to my desk. “I want you to be happy, and if I can help, just let me know,” she said, giving me a meaningful look.

  My breath caught. Was I getting the wrong vibe? Something told me that my little girl was coming onto me with the seductive look in her eyes, those creamy, pale thighs displayed under her skirt.

  “Honey,” I said smoothly. “Your mom and I … We have some things to work out, but you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

  “But Daddy, I want you to be happy,” she replied, “and I’m not sure that you are,” she said coyly, nodding towards my crotch. “Daddy,” she added breathily, “doesn’t it hurt down there? Don’t you need someone to help you relax?”

  I was so still that I barely breathed. Was my stepdaughter actually
referring to my crotch? This was so fucking wrong. But Cleo took it one step further.

  “Do you want me to suck you, Daddy?” she said, her face serious, her hand reaching over to trace my throbbing length. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t mind, the girls at school talk about it all the time. Wouldn’t it make you feel good?”

  I almost choked. Holy shit, my little girl was offering me a blow job. I knew I had to say no, it was wrong on a million levels, but I found her so refreshing, her straightforward, innocent ways a welcome relief from the deviousness of adult women.

  “Honey,” I said gently. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. We’re legally related, even if not by blood.”

  “But Daddy,” she said innocently, running her hand up and down my crotch again. “Look how big your dong is. Isn’t it painful? Wouldn’t it help if I gave you some relief?”

  And by god, my penis had gone from semi-hard to diamond-hard in a second, the minute my girl started talking about sex. It was rigid like plywood, punching out uncomfortably against my trousers.

  I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, adjusting myself discreetly.

  “Baby, it would help but it’s wrong, do you understand?” I said gently. “Your mom’s just down the hall. It’s not right to do this.”

  “But Daddy,” said Cleo. “Mommy doesn’t want you … and I do.”

  And I lost it. My little girl wanted to suck me, wanted me to push my dick into her pouty teen mouth, and I couldn’t resist anymore. I was too sex-deprived, too horny, too desperate. “Baby, come and sit on Daddy’s knee and tell me more,” I said silkily, gesturing for her to come closer. “When did you start to notice Daddy?”

  She came like a willing cumslut, positioning herself on my thigh, straddling me, her tiny skirt riding up so that she was basically humping my leg with her pussy. Her clit was so big, so hot and hard, that I could feel it through the thin cotton of her panties, pressing against my leg, a tiny rock of stimulation.

  “Daddy, I’ve always noticed you,” she cooed into my ear, her breath moist and warm on my neck. “You just didn’t see me.”

  I guess that was true. Just a year ago she’d been gangly and awkward, invisible. But now my little step was a firecracker.

  “Baby,” I said slowly. “Do you know what you’re getting into?” I asked as I slowly stroked her back.

  She moaned and arched, throwing her head back, almost purring against my hand, stretching luxuriously, sinuously.

  “Of course Daddy,” she said, her green eyes seductive and glinting, doing a little roll of her hips on my thigh. I fucking couldn’t breathe for a moment. Her pussy had gushed, and I felt a spurt of wetness through her panties, drenching my leg through my trousers, her hot box leaking gallons.

  “But Daddy,” she said seriously, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m a virgin and you’re going to be my first.”

  Oh fuck. Oh my god. So my little step’s delicious teen twat had never been violated and she was asking me to be her first dick? Oh god.

  “Baby,” I said again, this time, letting my hand skim down to her waist, tracing over a luscious, juicy buttock. “Do you know what happens between a man and a woman?”

  “Of course Daddy!” she laughed. “You put your penis in my vagina and we make a baby!”

  Holy shit, I’d completely forgotten about protection.

  “That’s right, honey,” I rumbled, my hands growing bolder, tracing her curves, one big hand running up her thigh to the hem of the plaid skirt. “Are you ready to be a mommy?”

  She looked at my shyly, batting her lashes. “With you, I am,” she breathed.

  And that fucking broke all of my barriers. I ravaged her mouth with mine, gripping her hair as I tilted her forward, driving my tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. She was hot and wet in her tiny cavity, her tongue questing to meet mine, not at all shy as she pressed herself closer to me in my lap.

  “Oh Daddy!” she sighed, her breath like warm butterflies skimming my skin.

  I let my hands roam her body uncontrolled. Her breasts were large and pendulous, overflowing my palms, and slowly, oh so slowly, I untied the knot between her tits, letting the material swing free, her creamy mounds on display. The little girl hadn’t worn a bra, and her nips pointed straight at me, deep pink, stiff and aching to be touched.

  Without hesitation, I bent my head to taste her. She mewled at the sensation, my warm tongue tracing the creamy flesh before focusing on her areola, skimming the pink with my mouth, leaving traces of saliva on her flesh. I drew a nipple into my mouth, savoring its rubbery yet stiff feel. It hardened like a bullet as I suckled vigorously, moaning into her skin, burying my face against that porcelain softness.

  “Daddy!” she shrieked, her cunt gushing again. Oh fuck, the little girl’s pussy was so wet it’d soaked through both her panties and my trouser leg. Shit, I had to feel it.

  I reached a hand under her skirt and lightly traced my fingers against her mound. The heat was scorching. There were waves of moisture coming off her twat, sensual and wet. I pressed my fingers firmly to her mound and she squealed again, grinding against my hand, rotating her hips, desperately trying to get near me.

  “Please Daddy,” she panted. “More … please!”

  But something made me hesitate for a moment. Maybe it was the innocence in her eyes, despite the fact that she was draped all over me, her snatch rubbing against my hand like it was a gift from heaven. Maybe it was my conscience, who knows. Funny time to grow a conscience, it’s never bothered me before.

  So slowly, reluctantly, I pulled away.

  “Cleo, this can’t happen,” I said gently, removing my hand slowly from her wetness. The shock in her eyes was vivid, those deep green irises still dilated from want and need. I stroked her haunches as a consolation prize, letting myself savor that smooth, sweet skin, perfume drifting off that silky golden expanse. Heat emanated from her still, driving me crazy, my senses on fire.

  “But why?” she asked, panting slightly. Her breasts heaved and I almost lost it again, those creamy tits waving in front of my face, so close that I could easily turn the tide, grab one in my mouth and suckle, keep the fire going.

  But I knew I had to stop. She was so nubile and so curvy … and so fucking young.

  “You know why,” I ground out, slowly shifting her off my lap. The little girl wobbled on her legs, like a newborn colt.

  “Because you’re married to my mom?” she asked softly. “I know you don’t love Lorena.”

  I gave out a short bark of laughter at that.

  “I’ve never loved Lorena,” I replied tightly, the look on my face grim, “and she’s never loved me. You know that Cleo. You know that with me and your mom, it was always a marriage of convenience.”

  And the girl straightened a little, re-tying her top, hiding those tits from view, pulling her skirt down again.

  “I just wanted to be sure, Daddy,” she said slowly, “because Lorena told me that you were trying for kids. But she’s in her forties and it’s probably not going to happen. You know that she’s tried before, right? Tried to have more kids but it fell flat?”

  I just shook my head. The last thing I wanted with my wife was a child. Heck, I’d never want a baby with a woman who I used for sex, what kind of environment would that be for a child? So I just shook my head.

  “Naw, it’s never bothered me that Lorena couldn’t conceive, I never even asked about it,” I rumbled, shaking my head. Why would Lorena tell Cleo that we were trying for kids? Odd. “In fact, I just assumed that your mom was past the age, no longer fertile. But what do you mean, she’s tried it before? She tried to give you a baby sister or brother at one point?”

  And here, Cleo sighed.

  “Daddy, we were poor before we met you,” she said slowly. “I mean, not living out of our car or anything, but my biological father was never in the picture. And I don’t mean he ditched us. He was a one night stand for Lorena, a shot in the dark, so she didn’t even know how to co
ntact him.”

  Surprise, surprise. Sounded just like my wife, so I nodded.

  “Well, it meant my mom had to raise me on her own and she wasn’t really into it. She was young when she had me, with a wild streak still, and I kept her from going out and partying. So Lorena started trying to get paid by guys,” said Cleo, shrugging her shoulders.

  “What do you mean?” I asked curiously. I’d had my wife checked out before I married her, and as far as I knew, her past was legit. She hadn’t committed any crimes, was here in the country legally, and had been working for the housekeeping service for eight years. That was a good record of employment, you had to show up on time and do your stuff if you’ve been with the same employer for that long.

  But Cleo read my mind. She nodded.

  “Daddy, you’re not the first man that Lorena’s met cleaning houses,” she said softly. “Only rich people can afford Greener Living, so we were always being sent to estates around Long Island, cleaning 10,000 square foot mansions with pool houses and guest cottages. We’d be on site for days sometimes, these places were so big.”

  I frowned for a second.

  “You were cleaning as well?” I growled. “What about school? You were too young to be working full-time.”

  And here, the girl shook her head again slowly.

  “I was,” she agreed. “But Mom couldn’t afford babysitting, so she’d take me with her on jobs. I’d usually sit in the van and wait while she and the rest of the crew cleaned. It wasn’t fun because they use a lot of harsh chemicals and sitting in the van, the fumes would sting my eyes, my nose, make it hard to breathe. So actually, I wanted to help them,” she confessed. “That way, I could get some air.”

  And I frowned again. This Cinderella background was even harsher than I imagined. I mean, yeah, I knew Lorena and Cleo came from a blue-collar past but I never imagined it was like this.

  Still, Cleo shrugged.

  “When I got old enough to look like a legit employee, I started cleaning with the crew, going into the mansions. It was amazing,” she said, taking a deep breath. “It was only then that I realized how much some people have, and how little we had.”