My Boyfriend's Boss: A Forbidden Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  EPILOGUE

  Pete

  Six years later …

  “Oh god,” she moaned, writhing beneath me. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

  And I grinned although Mandy couldn’t see it.

  “That’s right baby,” I murmured, keeping my voice low. “Quiet, so the kids can’t ear.”

  Because the beautiful brunette has given me the most incredible gifts. Not one baby, not two or even three … but four children. Together, we have four babies and with Violet as our eldest, that makes five total.

  But right now, I was only focused on making our family even larger. Because with each pregnancy, my girl has become more luscious, more beautiful. Those huge tits have gotten bigger breastfeeding child after child, and oh fuck, but her ass was a mountain of white flesh, so juicy and succulent that I could hardly prevent myself from coming immediately, spurting my seed into her in wave after wave, shooting life deep into her insides.

  But there was something I wanted Mandy to do. Because the sex play between us is still strong. Oh yeah, after six years, we’re still going at it like rabbits in heat, whenever we get a moment alone, the clothes are off and my baby is showing me her pussy, letting me touch her twat, stroke her so she comes. But today, I had something dirty in mind, so nasty and delicious that my balls got tight just thinking about it.

  The sweet woman was bent over our bureau at the moment, breasts smooshed against the surface as I pounded her from behind, hands scrabbling for something to grip as she moaned, cheek pressed against the wood. And gently, I seized one of her tiny fists, pulling it around her back, unclenching her fingers.

  “That’s right baby, that’s right,” I murmured. “Feel my dick in you, feel how big and thick it is, and you know what? It’s gonna feel even better once you’ve got a finger in your ass.”

  She squealed then, a sharp jolt running through her cunt, clenching hard on my dick.

  “Oh god, oh god, Peter, yes,” she moaned. “Put a finger in my anus, I want it, I want it.”

  But I chuckled low in my throat then.

  “No baby, not my finger in your ass. Your finger,” I corrected gently. “You’re gonna finger yourself as I fuck you honey, that’s right, slip one in.”

  The brunette’s eyes flew open then, big caramel pools turning to look at me wide-eyed over a slim shoulder.

  “Mr. Parker,” she gasped. “Mr. Parker!”

  And I chuckled low in my throat. Because yeah, I wanted to see the girl finger her butthole as I fucked her vagina, it was gonna be the sassiest show around. So without missing a beat, I uncurled her hand and guided her middle digit towards her crevice.

  “Right there, baby,” I growled, still going deep with my penis, pushing her hand forwards. “Right there, put it in.”

  And with a low moan, head tipped to the sky, eyes dropping closed, the beautiful brunette did it. As I slid my dick deep into her twat, her slim middle finger went up her butthole and fuck, but the sight was amazing. A woman buttfucking herself as I fucked her pussy? Oh yeah, right up my alley, one hundred percent just my thing, I fucking ate it up.

  And that about sums up our relationship. Mandy is my everything, the answer to my questions, the sum of all parts, the other half to my whole. Because she’s smart, worldly, with an amazing sense of humor and the sassiest, sweetest personality I’ve ever met. Sure, it wasn’t easy telling her parents that we’d moved in together, that I’d up and left New Jersey to take up fucking their daughter full-time, but the little girl handled it with a grace I’d never expected.

  “Mom, calm down,” she’d said patiently into the phone. “Didn’t you hear me? Yes, I’m pregnant, but I’m still finishing my degree.”

  I couldn’t hear exactly what Trish was saying, but the furious squawking on the other side told me everything.

  But their daughter was unruffled despite the fact she was clearly getting a verbal beating. Without missing a beat, Mandy took another bite of her sandwich, another sip of soup, while listening on the phone. Hey, being pregnant is hard work and the girl was eating for two.

  “I know, I know,” she said patiently again. “You don’t have to worry. No, he didn’t take advantage of me, I’m eighteen. Yes, eighteen makes everything legal, I’m an adult now. He’s forty. Yes, Mom, I know it’s a big age gap, but it works for us.”

  And I shook my head with admiration. Hell, if it’d been me on the phone, I would have been shouting my head off, losing my cool and flying off the handle, veins bulging in my forehead. But my girl was different, she could juggle irate parents while eating a meal, all the while pregnant and cramming for classes.

  And that’s why Mandy’s perfect for me, for us. Because with five kids, we’ve both got our hands full, what between play dates, school, extracurricular activities, and three nannies. Yeah, with this many kids, we need the extra hands and the money we spend on nannies, a cook, and a driver is completely worth it. But Mandy is an efficient manager, organizing everything so that our household runs like clockwork, smooth as cream, everyone happy save the occasional child throwing a tantrum.

  And you know what? This is my life now and I love it. I’ve got my hands full with a job, kids, a loving wife, and I couldn’t ask for more. There is literally nothing that I’d wish for, except perhaps a few more orgasms for the beautiful brunette currently touching herself in front of me. So putting in my best effort, I grabbed those fleshy hips and drove in deep, feeling that slick channel squeeze my dick. Oh yeah, Mandy was so tight, so small still even after giving birth, that it never took long.

  “Finger yourself,” I grunted, eyes fixed on that nasty little digit in her hole. “Keep going, I can feel you stroking yourself through your ass wall.”

  And the brunette just moaned, head dropping forward, those brown curls drifting over her shoulders.

  “Yes, Peter, yes, Mr. Parker, this is what I want, this is what I want,” she chanted. And with another loud, guttural moan, another jerk of my hips, we both came, shattering with ecstasy.

  “Fuuuck!” I roared, grabbing that fine, curvy form to me, pressing her vag tight against my hips as I bucked and shot, loads of white spraying her interior passage. “Fuck!”

  And the way Mandy creamed around me, screaming as her pussy spasmed, clenching, drawing my sperm ever deeper into her body, gave me all the answers. This union would be a fertile one, a successful shot at heaven, and in nine months, I had a distinct feeling that my woman would be growing round once more with our sixth child, proof again of our love for one another. Because my eighteen year-old babysitter, so luscious and firm, delicious and tantalizing, was having my babies now, one after the other … and it was absolutely right because I’d fallen head over heels for the woman of my dreams.

  THE END

  DOUBLE MASSIVE

  A Twin Stepbrother Romance

  (Erotic Romance, PI, Ménage)

  © 2015

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest stepbrother romance? Addicted to sizzling stepbrother twins? Join my mailing list at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get FREE BOOKS unavailable elsewhere!

  A SNEAK PEEK

  With a hard pump, I fucked into her. Kacey was literally lifted off her hands and knees, my shaft was so fucking big, skewering her on my penis like a pig on a roast. She screamed, throwing her head back, pussy stretched unbearably, labia like thin rubber bands pinched around my dick with no choice but to submit. She squealed again, the violation so complete, so overwhelming, that her eyes rolled back for a moment showing their whites.

  Finally though, the girl calmed and tried to breathe, her pants rhythmic and fast.

  “Slowly, slowly,” I murmured, my hands caressing her waist and ass. Because I was only about five inches in … and there were still ten to go!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kacey

  I have a secret. I’m a stripper and I have a crush on one of my customers. It’s the ultimate no-no for girls in my line of work. I mean, who dates and m
arries the stripper at their local club? No one, right?

  What makes this worse is that this isn’t even Lace, Mystique or New York Dolls. I work at the Donkey Club, a joint that prides itself on its hot girls, but also the sawdust on the floor, the peanut shells littering the ground, the take-no-prisoners approach of its dancers.

  Because that’s why we’re called the Donkey Club. Here, the girls are able to take nine, ten, eleven … even fifteen inches. Not that I’ve ever gotten up to fifteen. Since starting here a couple weeks ago, I’ve done nine and ten, but fifteen is like a myth. It’s something the girls are always chattering about backstage, but who knows if it really exists?

  “I could swear it was at least fifteen,” confided Alana to the semi-circle of ladies around her.

  “Oh yeah, did you have a ruler with you?” snapped Jenny, a bitch as usual.

  “Please, girl, this is my line of work. You know how many men I’ve fucked by now? I can size up a cock in two seconds, sometimes even before his tightie-whities are off,” Alana spat in retort.

  And it was true. Though I’ve only been working a few weeks, I’ve already been promoted to the exclusive Donkey Girls service. Not every stripper here is trusted to fuck our customers … only those who have elastic pussies, who can take a big man hard, deep and rough. And you’re put through the ringer during tryouts too. I had to fuck three men, all of them enormous, before I was even considered for the job. I wish I’d gotten it on tape. Those tryouts had been brutal but yummy … god, I’m getting wet just thinking about it again.

  But my line of work pretty much means that I don’t have a boyfriend. After all, I dance three or four nights a week, and I’m fucking six to eight men per week too. I’m proud to say I’ve built up a few regulars even, guys that I see once or twice a week after they’ve had a hard day at work.

  So I’d been dancing last Tuesday, shimmying for dollars, when I saw him. He was dominating and elegant at once, which caught my eye because unfortunately, most guys here are overgrown frat boys, their mouths open, drool practically hanging off their chins. But not the new guy. He was wearing a grey suit and I couldn’t see his face because he sat in shadow, but I could see his crossed legs, arms neatly folded over his chest.

  And damn what an expensive suit can do for a guy! The stranger was trim and fit, not too bulky, but definitely athletic, you know? It takes a lot to make my mouth water these days, but I was curious about our new customer, and started sidling over to him, shaking my ass, gliding my hands over my curves.

  You know you’re a good stripper when a guy is completely still, his hand too busy to even stroke his dick. I admit, at the Donkey Club, guys whip out their poles in public, fondling themselves, letting those stiffies get some air. But you know you’ve got a guy captive when he’s not even beating himself, he’s just so mesmerized.

  The classy guy obviously didn’t have his dick out. But he was absolutely motionless, still as a rock. He didn’t move a centimeter as I approached, stroking my curves, wiggling my ass, letting my breasts bounce up and down. Oh, and did I mention I was completely naked? Yeah, the Donkey Club doesn’t pull its punches … we girls wear nothing but our heels by the time we’re finished.

  So I was butt-naked, sensuously gliding over to this guy, and I could tell he was breathing hard, but still as a statue. When I finally got close to him, I gasped involuntarily. He was gorgeous. Deep, dark hair, coupled with emerald-colored eyes that took in my every movement. I shimmied seductively, my body begging him for attention … and dollars.

  Like a movie in slow motion, his hand reached for his money clip. Hmmm, I liked that. I’ve noticed that high rollers don’t really use wallets, instead they have these fat rolls of cash, and sure enough, this dude pulled out an extra-wide roll. Peeling off a bill, he gestured for me to dance closer.

  I pulled up in front of him, shaking my boobs in his face and then held still so that he could latch on. Fuck, his lips felt good! He lapped gently at my nipple first, teasing my tit with his tongue, before suckling hard, pulling on my breast flesh. When he’d gotten his fill, he nodded and gestured for me to hold my boob up.

  I lifted the pendulous Double D, and he tucked a Benjamin Franklin underneath, my jug pinning the bill in place as I lowered it. He then nodded to my other tit, the nipple hard as rock now, and I lovingly offered it to him, letting him suckle to his heart’s content. And god, the man’s mouth was like honey. He slipped and slid over my peak until my cunny was gushing, it felt so fucking good. Again, he had me lift my breast so that he could slip another bill into my secret space.

  But the best was coming. I twirled around, the money tucked securely under my girls, but there was still one entrancing crevice that attracted bees like honey. Taking advantage of a chair nearby, I perched a high heel on it, lifting my knee so that my cunny was bared. Taunting him, I reached down and spread my lips with my fingers, showing him my hole, that deep, pink flesh moist and dripping. He nodded and gestured for me to turn around.

  I knew what he wanted. I bent over, spread my legs, and held my ass cheeks apart so that he could get in. Lovingly, he licked my cunny and I mewled, it felt so fucking good. I love this job … I love the attention, I love dancing, and most of all, I love feeling men in my snatch. And this one was particularly handsome, just an incredible fuckstud, someone I wanted to do hard and unprotected.

  As he licked my cunt from the back, I moaned again, wiggling my ass in his face, forcing him to grab my butt to hold me still. But he got the message. He took a couple bills from the roll this time, and folded them up into a little square. Teasingly, he pushed it into my wetness, the folds grabbing the money like it was gold. Fuck, bills are always nice, but it felt extra-nice in my twat.

  Straightening, I blew him a kiss, and the dark stranger smiled. My set was ending, and I’d be damned if this guy didn’t order a private dance from me later in the night. Our interaction had been too hot, too steamy for him to walk away.

  But as the night passed, there was no call from the manager, no nothing. Instead, the evening continued, and I went up for a second set, then a third, but the dark stranger had disappeared. What the … ? He had to come back. He had to.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Logan

  Fuck, that stripper was still on my mind, and I hadn’t even fucked her. I’d just tongued her hole, licked her nipples a bit, sampling that sweet flesh between her legs. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  I usually don’t even frequent joints like the Donkey Club. It’s so fucking low-class, the girls garish and coarse, and the setting, don’t even get me started on the sawdust on the floors, I was mad as shit knowing I’d have to get my shoes professionally cleaned now. But that girl, fuck that girl was amazing.

  She’d had an amazing body, firm, curvy, and luscious. Hers was a hundred percent real though, the tits heavy teardrops, her ass tight with a juicy honey pot. Her hair was naturally streaked by the sun, with warm caramel eyes and pillowy, kissable lips. Not that I’d kissed those lips. I’d only kissed her bottom lips, and goddamn, they’d been delicious.

  “What’s your problem brother?” asked Lance. He’s my twin, born only five minutes later. We’re real estate guys. We sell property in the city, and shoot, the Phillips Group is the highest grossing team in the country. We specialize in marketing high-end condos to international billionaires, netting ourselves a pretty penny in the process.

  “It’s that fucking Jane Street deal,” I rumbled. “The developer is a fucking asshole, refusing to put in the high end finishes we agreed on.”

  But my brother knew me better than that.

  “Patricia tells me that you didn’t come home for dinner last night,” he drawled. Patricia is my wannabe girlfriend, a beautiful woman, really too beautiful for her own good. We met a year ago, and she conveniently quit her job and moved into my condo last month, living the high-life. I got her credit card bills each month and believe me, these were bills that could make your fucking eyeballs bleed.

 
So I’d been feeling trapped lately. I knew what the woman expected: a diamond ring, courtesy of a pale blue box, soon and fast. Fuck. I’d even half-heartedly looked at some rings on line, but couldn’t get myself to pull the trigger.

  Lance, on the other hand, was still living the high life. Single and ready to mingle, my asshole twin was going out every night looking for trouble, fucking girls right and left. Fuck my life! How had I gotten here, dreaming about a stripper who’d let me suck her tits? Ah, screw it.

  I wasn’t about to tell Lance about my depraved night at the Donkey Club. He’d consider it slumming, a far cry from the fancy joints he frequented, filled with bottle service and sleek models. But I wanted to go back again, if only to momentarily shake off the nightmare that my life had become.

  “Um yeah that Jane Street deal, I’m going throttle James and Vikram,” I said, referring to the developers again. “They’re such fucking bullshitters. They want twenty-five million for the place and won’t even put in high-end finishes? Fuck them,” I growled.

  Lance still had his eyebrows raised, but didn’t pursue it further. He knew when not to push me, and straightened his tie instead.

  “The boys and I are going to the Dream Hotel tonight, you want to come?” he asked. By boys he meant Jeremy and Jonas, two dickwads we hung with sometimes.

  “Nah,” I growled. “I better go see what Patricia wants.”

  But I knew I was headed back to the Donkey Club, to see the stripper with the big tits and even bigger smile. She’d wormed her way into my brain … and seeing her again was the only way to rid myself of the addiction.