Secrets and Desire (Erotic Romance Bundle)

by Dalia Daudelin

  “What?” I asked, incredulous. Had he said the cooks? “Uh, no. Not that I know of.”

  “Very good.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow, miss Rice. Good day.”

  I hung up the phone and fell back into my chair. I'd never dealt before with someone so obviously wealthy. Perhaps the dean of the College of Education had been well-to-do, but I know he didn't have a staff on hand.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  I arrived at ten fifty, of course. I definitely didn't want to mess with a Yale student's academic career, or with someone who lived in the neighborhood of the address that had beeped onto my phone a few seconds after I'd hung up.

  They had a gate, which would have been a shock if I hadn't looked the address up on the internet before driving out. I saw a box outside, and pressed the only button on it. A voice crackled through:

  “Yes? Who is it?”

  “Jan Rice? I was contacted by a mister...” It occurred to me that I couldn't remember if he'd told me his name. It seemed as if he hadn't, but that was odd.

  “Oh, yeah,” the voice buzzed. “The math tutor, right? Come on in.”

  A loud BUZZ went off and the gate started to swing open as I climbed back into the car and drove up the drive. It circled around into what would have passed for a parking lot most places, with a half-dozen spaces or more and a closed garage door that could have held who-knows-how-many cars.

  I climbed out and only looked foolish for a moment before a young man wearing a dark sport coat came out to meet me.

  “This way, ma'am.”

  This was so much more than I had expected. I wondered idly if royalty had such incredible servants in this day and age; the mansion, for it couldn't be called anything else, loomed over us both, neatly trimmed hedges rimming the ground floor.

  The man stepped forward and opened a heavy-looking wooden door, and I stepped inside. He offered to take my jacket, and not knowing what else to do, I accepted. The boy, hardly eighteen himself, walked off with it into the bowels of the massive house. Even the foyer dwarfed many of the lecture halls I'd spent my time in for the past few years, and I was beginning to become almost phobic about it when another man in similar clothes stepped forward.

  This one was older, and had an air about him of someone who knew what he was doing. His back was straighter, his gaze surer, and at the same time, he seemed just as compliant, ready to serve at a moment's notice. He smiled warmly.

  “You'll have to forgive the young master, miss. It is a bit early, after all. If you'll follow me, I can get you some refreshments, if you'd like?”

  I followed him, but just before we passed through a door, the man turned, as if he'd heard a sort of dog whistle, and looked eagle-eyed up at the top of the stairs that led from the second floor down into this cavernous room.

  At the top stood a bleary-eyed young man, as young as the one who had just taken my jacket. He looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed, and he was gorgeous. His hair was just a little bit long, and it hung in his face in a bed-head that was more natural, and more attractive, than anything I could have managed myself with hours. His shoulders were broad and his limbs long, his face long and gaunt. His skin was bronzed with an unnatural sort of tan that served to enhance his darkly beautiful looks. He looked down at me.

  “Is this the new tutor, James?”

  “Yes, Master Tomas. This is the tutor.” His face darkened just slightly. “Please, do try not to run this one off. Your father's people are having more and more trouble finding new ones.”

  He stepped down the stairs and looked me over. I had been feeling under-dressed since I had stepped out of the car, and now with this beautiful young man looking me over, the feeling was amplified a hundred-fold.

  He sucked air through his teeth and looked back at the butler I had nearly followed from the room.

  “I'll try not to, James. This one's got a nice rack, and that's good to have around.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I what? He couldn't have just said that, I thought, until I felt a hand squeeze my ass. “And a nice ass, too.”

  I pulled away and stared at the boy. Who on earth did he think he was? The butler reached over with a gloved hand and grabbed the boy's ear, hard. Though he looked lean and muscular, he doubled over in pain when the older man yanked.

  “You'll watch your manners when a lady is present, Master Tomas. Don't think that your father will allow this sort of behavior, because I know to a certainty that he absolutely will not.” He had a fury in his eyes that I hadn't believed him capable of. Those eyes turned to me. “I'm so sorry, ma'am. We'll see that you are paid double for the trouble we've caused you, and if you'd like, then we can have you escorted at all times to keep the young master from acting like some sort of... ruffian.”

  I blinked. I looked at the eighteen year old who was yowling in pain before me, and I shrunk back, unsure of what to do.

  “Uh,” I started, not wanting to push my luck, “Sure, that would be fine?”

  The butler let go of the beautiful-looking young man and strode out of the room. For a brief moment, I was left alone with the young master who I'd be tutoring for, if the agent was to be believed, several weeks. He seemed to wilt when the butler left, retreating into himself.

  “Hey,” he said after a second. “I'm sorry about that. I was just teasing, I didn't mean to...”

  He trailed off. I took pity on him.

  “I'm Jan Rice; I graduated from–” he cut me off.

  “Tomas Blake. I'm sure you're very qualified.” He took the hand I'd offered in a handshake.

  I wasn't sure how offended I was allowed to be, for the absurd fees they would be paying me. Though, from what the butler had said, perhaps it was inevitable, and all the money in the world wouldn't make me stay. I wondered.

  A moment later, the butler – I guessed he was the head butler – returned with a big man with a shaved head who looked me up and down. He didn't linger on my breasts, but I knew he noticed them. Most men did.

  “Well then,” I said finally, “shall we get started?”

  It seemed, hours later, that I had my work cut out for me. Tomas was not a fool, and he could be attentive when he chose to be. That surprised me, given how far behind he was for any sort of a Collegiate education. Most of the people who I've met that fall behind, it is because they make no effort, though I had no reason to suspect that Tomas was any different. Whatever had changed, to make him try now, was a mystery.

  It would certainly take very nearly every moment I had to get to the point where he would be ready, though. So I was already planning exactly how I could hurry through the curriculum on my way home.

  The weeks passed quickly. Tomas, for all his poor first impressions, dedicated himself when he needed to. After only a week, he was proving himself faster than I had expected even from his fairly quick first day. I found that we had time enough to take periodic breaks, which he reveled in.

  He seemed to delight in showing me around the estate, watching with open amusement as I tried to hide the awe with which I approached every part of the tours he gave me. He most preferred, I surmised, the garage. I had noticed it from the outside on the first day, and when he took me down into it, accompanied by one of the interchangeable shaven-headed men, I realized that my initial estimate of its size had been far, far too conservative.

  There must have been a hundred cars, spanning most of the last century, from even the earliest Fords. All of them were in impeccable condition, and though I never saw one, I knew that to keep such a large collection in such shape the estate must have had several mechanics on their staff. My amazement at the money the Blake family had to spend only grew as I came to be more and more comfortable in their home.

  I smiled in spite of myself. When I looked at him, I could see the enthusiasm, shining out of his eyes like a searchlight. It was almost saddening when I the break was over and we had to go back to the study and sit down and work through the mathematics a
gain. Math was fun for me. It seemed to just make sense, and I liked that feeling. I could tell that it didn't just make sense to Tomas Blake, and spending so much time having to be the person taking him away from the things he loved so that he could do work that sucked the light right out of his eyes hurt.

  But day by day, week by week, we managed to get it done. I was proud of him, even for his bad first impression.

  I thought that was the end of it. I went home with a damn fine paycheck and started drinking it away. I needed time away from the constant work, even if it was good work with a good kid–no, I corrected myself, a good man. He was eighteen before he graduated high school. I'd been dealing with a legal adult the whole time, even if he was almost ten years younger than me.

  I was still enjoying my time off a week later when I mused about the idea of what I would have done if he'd moved on me for real, especially near the end. I could feel a heat rising down below, hotter than the drunken heat in my cheeks, and I decided it was time for bed. Then my phone rang. The number was blocked, but I was a little drunk and I answered anyways.

  “Miss Rice?” I hadn't expected to hear that voice again, ever.

  “Tomas!” I let my surprise slip into my voice just a bit before I caught myself. “What is it, how can I help you?”

  “I just got my results back from the entrance exams, I thought I would give you a call.”

  I waited for him to tell me what they were, but I realized dimly that he was waiting for me to ask.

  “How did it go?”

  “It's incredible, I passed! I guess you were really a great tutor after all!”

  “Well, you were a good student, too, Tomas. Is there anything else, or–”

  “Well I thought maybe you'd like a ride in the Lamborghini, maybe? I know you said it looked really cool, and I wanted to go for a drive to celebrate, and you were... I don't know, it's no big deal if you'd rather not come with me. Maybe I was just being dumb.”

  “No, no,” I said, my head still foggy. I tried to think about how to respond. He wasn't exactly one of my students, right? So it probably wasn't a big deal. It all seemed to make sense in my head.

  “Great, I'll be by to pick you up in... 2 minutes?”

  That made me blink. 2 minutes? So he was already on the way, then. That presumptuous little shit, I laughed to myself. “I'll try to get myself ready.”

  I threw on a jacket and looked in the mirror. I didn't look too bad, did I?

  I heard the door buzz and thumbed the button. “I'll be down in a minute!”

  I gave one last look into the mirror and pushed the door open.

  He was as gorgeous as I remember, all good looks and muscles, like some sort of Greek statue. The heat in my loins started to rise again as I imagined how his hands must feel.

  “Miss Rice, hey,” he said, sitting back onto the car. “I hope I wasn't interrupting anything.”

  “No, it's good to see you. Congratulations on your results.”

  He pulled the doors up. I was aware that they opened like that, but it was surreal to see it, the same way it'd been surreal the first time I'd seen it when he was showing it off. I practically fell into the car and started to buckle my seat belt as Tomas shut the door behind me. I looked up just in time to see him slide easily into the driver's seat and start the engine.

  He started to drive, relaxed, through the city. I had been driving for years, and I never felt as relaxed behind the wheel as he looked now, shifting easily, accelerating in measured doses. During that drive, I almost forgot how powerful the car was supposed to be. It just seemed reliable, a smooth ride.

  And then we left the city limits and he stepped on it.

  I felt my head press automatically back into the headrest, the speed dropping a pit out of my stomach into the seat below. It was exhilarating and arousing. The engine was screaming so loud that we couldn't have spoken if we'd wanted to, not even shouting. We went around a soft corner at what felt like a thousand miles an hour and I smashed into the side of the seat, trying to keep myself from hitting the door.

  I pushed an arm into the door and pushed away, gritting my teeth with effort. The sensation, all of the sensations, were incredible, at the same time terrifying and fantastic. My mind and body surged with arousal and excitement. I could tell what people paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for with this car, if this drive was any sort of experience.

  We slowed back down to a reasonable speed and Tomas looked at me with a big, stupid, cocky grin on his face.

  “Did you like that?”

  I looked at him, drunkenness and adrenaline swimming in my eyes. It was the most serious look I'd ever given him.

  “Tomas? Take your cock out.”

  He had a wild look in his eyes, a mixture of surprise, amazement, and arousal. And then a smile spread across his face.

  “Miss Rice!”

  “Yes?”

  “I mean–are you sure?”

  “What, did you think this was my first time?”

  He pulled his right hand off the wheel, his eyes on the road, and he pulled on his belt, which came undone with a hard metallic click. The button on his pants slipped loose and he pulled the zipper down.

  I leaned over and hungrily pulled him out. I knew that it had been sudden, but he was hardening in my hand. And then I took his magnificent-looking cock in my mouth, slurping loudly as I bobbed my head.

  I could feel him fidgeting in pleasure as I sucked, his hand resting on my back. I don't know how long we drove like that, with me sucking him greedily. I could feel the arousal spreading out of my stomach and heating my whole body, hotter than the wine.

  Tomas tensed up under me and I knew. Moments later, ropey strand after strand of cum shot into my throat. I swallowed it up greedily, ignoring the saltiness.

  I sat back into my seat and smiled, wiping a drip off my lips that had escaped the rest of my mouth and sucking it back down as well. I could feel Tomas's eyes on me, undressing me in his mind. I let a smile worm its way across my face. It was nice to have the attention of a handsome man.

  He didn't ask, but he definitely didn't take me home, either. I smiled at this, as well. I could have refused, I knew. I didn't have to go back to the house with him. But he wasn't asking, either.

  The drive back was agonizingly long and by the time we pulled into the garage, I was rubbing my thighs together at the very notion of what was going to happen next. When I slid out of the car I found him right there, waiting, and he scooped me up in his strong arms like a small child, carrying me through the wide-open door and up the stairs to a bedroom. His bedroom, I knew, though it was nearly bare of any personal affects.

  He laid me down and smiled. I smiled back at him, reaching up to grab his shirt and pull him down into a kiss. He pushed against me, our bodies pressed together along their length, and I wrapped my legs around him suggestively. Neither of us doubted what was to come.

  And then he pulled away. “Show me,” he said, and he waited.

  For whatever reason, this was the moment of truth, to me. The moment where I couldn't come back from. The car, that had been a moment of drunkenness, on adrenaline and wine and enjoyment, but this would be a conscious decision.

  I started to unbutton my blouse, piece by piece. I hadn't put on a bra in my hurry to get out of the house, and as I undid the buttons, I could feel my breasts spilling out. I tried to keep the shirt together as best I could with one hand as I undid them with the other.

  I could see the frustration on Tomas's face, the way his teeth grit together, and I reveled in it. He reached for me, leaning in, and I put one foot on his chest, pushing him away. And then, when I thought he couldn't get more frustrated, I let the shirt come open, my breasts out for him. He pushed back down onto me, latching onto one of them, sucking hungrily.

  I gasped at the shock of electricity that ran through my body, and he seized onto it, pushing my skirt up my hips and revealing my panties. His hand rubbed gently through the fabric and I mewled my pl
easure. I could hear him working his belt, unzipping. I knew what would come, then, when he pulled my panties aside.

  I could feel his cock rubbing against me, sending an electric jolt up my spine when he hit my button, and then he pushed inside. I hadn't imagined I could feel so full. What was a quiet purr turned into an open moan. Every time he pulled out, it was as if my world melted away, and every time he pushed back in, I saw stars. I don't know how many times I came; I lost count.

  He started to lose his restraint, turning into a mindless beast, and I looked up at him with sex and orgasms in my mind, and I moaned to him to cum in me, to fill me up. He pushed into me again, into depths I didn't know were there, and warmth spread through my belly. He collapsed onto me, both of us merged into one mass of sticky, sweaty bodies, gasping for breath.

  I didn't know what would happen, or whether I'd get pregnant, but I didn't care. I didn't expect anything, then. I was overjoyed when he gave me the ring, exactly a year later.

  Your Lovely Body

  First Time, Virgin, Erotic Romance

  Dalia Daudelin

  I absolutely despise the way I look. Honestly, I probably spend more time in front of mirrors than I do in front of the television. My reflection is something of an obsession of mine, and every time I see myself my mind goes over every one of my flaws, my nose that's too big, my eyes that are too small. My breasts are lopsided, my stomach is too large, and my smile is goofy.

  Hating myself this much isn't healthy. At all. I know I'm a smart girl, but no one will ever find that out because my outer shell is just disgusting. I want nothing more than to look like any of the models in magazines or women on TV. But there's no chance. I'm just destined to be gross.

  I'm in college, and have been for 2 years, but I've never been to a party. Why would I bother to go to one? No one's ever invited me, and no guys would want to dance or talk to me.