Daddy Wolf's Nanny (Nanny Shifter Service Book 3)

by Sky Winters

  Just like always, just like during the hundreds of other times they'd made love over the last year, she wondered just how she was going to fit all of him inside her. But just like always, she did it. Ingrid impaled herself on Damien's cock, and once he was fully buried inside her, filling her completely in the way that only he'd been able to do, she took a moment and savored the feeling.

  Then, when she was ready, Ingrid began rocking back and forth, Damien's cock moving in and out of her as she did. Ingrid regarded Damien's face as it tightened into an expression of pleasure; she knew he loved being ridden by her as much as she loved doing it. His hands moved up her sides, coming to a rest on her full breasts, holding them in place as the rest of her body shook with each bucking. Ingrid leaned forward, letting her breasts hang in Damien's face as she braced herself by resting her hands on his solid, strong chest.

  "Goddamn, you feel so fucking good," said Damien between breaths.

  "I love riding you so much," she said. "It's like heaven."

  She rocked her hips back and forth, slowly building up the pace. Eventually, her gentle rocking moved into full-on bouncing. Holding herself upright, she lifted her hips up and down, crashing them onto Damien's cock, penetrating herself with it over and over again. Damien's hands moved around, and he grabbed her ass hard, pushing her hips against his cock as they fucked.

  An orgasm began to form inside Ingrid, and she still couldn't believe just how fast he was able to make her cum. It was as though his cock were the key that unlocked total sexual bliss for her; at times, she wondered if his prick had been made just for her.

  "Oh God, oh God," she said over and over like a chant as the orgasm grew closer and closer.

  Damien grunted and moaned as Ingrid continued to ride him hard, and she could tell he wasn't too far off from unloading himself deep into her. Ingrid continued to buck and grind, pressing herself hard against Damien. After just a little bit more of this, Ingrid could see that Damien wasn't going to be able to hold back for much longer. And so much the better, as her orgasm broke loose at that moment, rushing through her body in a hot wave of ecstasy. Then Damien came, and he grabbed hard onto Ingrid's hips, holding her in place as he shot himself deep inside of her.

  After a time, their orgasms passed, and Ingrid collapsed on top of Damien's heaving chest.

  "You keep that up," said Ingrid, running her fingertip over Damien's mouth, "and you're gonna have another newborn around here to deal with."

  "Nothing wrong with that," said Damien. "The more the merrier, in my opinion."

  Ingrid laughed and tossed a pillow at her lover.

  "Easy for you to say – you're not the one pushing it out of you."

  And as if right on cue, a baby's cry sounded from across the house.

  "I was getting too comfy anyway," said Damien.

  "Then you get ready for work, and I'll deal with the kiddo."

  "Deal."

  The two of them hopped out of bed, Damien heading to the bathroom and Ingrid throwing a robe around her body and starting for the nursery. Once there, she approached the crib and laid eyes on the squirming, crying form of Alexander, their two-month-old baby.

  "Come here, little man," said Ingrid, scooping the baby up into her arms and holding him close.

  Apparently, some attention was all he wanted, for as soon as Ingrid picked him up, he quieted down.

  "Morning, kid," said Ingrid to Adeline, who was already up and in the kitchen, a big bowl of cereal in front of her.

  "Morning!" she said, her voice chipper.

  She hopped off her barstool and approached Ingrid and Alexander, her eyes wide as she looked at the baby.

  "He sounded so angry!" Adeline said. "And now look at him."

  "Just didn't like waking up alone, I guess."

  "Or maybe you've got baby magic," said Adeline. "Let me see him."

  Ingrid handed the little baby off to Adeline, who set to cooing and kissing him right away. Ingrid poured herself a cup of coffee and walked out onto the balcony, letting the gentle fresh air calm her mind.

  She couldn't believe it'd been a year since she found out she was pregnant. The time since then seemed to have flown by like nothing.

  Doesn't hurt that we've all been crazy busy, though Ingrid.

  Between the baby and Damien's new clients in the wake of his biggest competitor being bumped off, the household had been a bustle of activity. Ingrid and Damien officially became a couple, of course, with her becoming part of the home as his girlfriend, rather than the nanny. And with looking after the baby and working the books for Damien's business, she was busier than she'd ever been.

  But also happier. In fact, she couldn't remember when, in her life, she'd been so content. And why wouldn't she be, she'd think. She was surrounded by so much love every day that it would be impossible to not feel joy.

  "Hey there," said Damien, stepping onto the balcony, dressed in one of his sharp suits and ready for the day.

  "Hey," said Ingrid. "Busy day ahead?"

  "You know it," he said. "Still scrambling to cover the work left behind by you-know-who. Lots of money, but even more work."

  "It's worth it, though, right?" asked Ingrid.

  "Of course, it is," he said. "I get to know I'm working for the ones I love."

  Ingrid smiled warmly.

  "Listen," said Damien. "I had some plans. Big ones, really. I was going to take a break from work in the next month or two and take you and the kids up somewhere, anywhere away from the city for a while. Paris, maybe?"

  "Spoiling the surprise yourself?” asked Ingrid with a smile.

  Damien chuckled.

  "Maybe," he said. "But part of the plan was, once there, I wanted to ask you something. But seeing the way you looked this morning, how beautiful you were, and how happy I was to wake up next to you, made me realize I couldn't wait any longer. So…"

  Ingrid's heart soared at what she thought he just might be asking. He slipped a small box out of his suit jacket and opened it up. Sure enough, it was a gorgeous, sparkling engagement ring.

  "Ingrid Parker, will you-"

  She couldn't wait for him to finish.

  "Yes!" she shouted, throwing her arms around him, and covering his face with kisses.

  Damien slipped the ring on her finger and embraced her.

  "I love you, baby," he said.

  "I love you too," said Ingrid. "So, so much."

  The two embraced for a time, holding each other close as they looked out into the distance.

  Then, a voice snapped them out of their reverie.

  "I hope this means we're still going to Paris!" said Adeline, standing in the doorway with Alexander and evidently having had watched everything.

  Damien and Ingrid laughed, and Ingrid gestured for Adeline to join them. The family stood together, enjoying one another's company, all knowing they had more and more days like this to look forward to. Ingrid couldn't wait to get started.

  Bonus Stories

  NYC Vamps Book 1

  Chapter 1

  “Going once? Going twice? Sold, to the gentleman in the double-breasted suit!”

  The auctioneer gestured to the winner with the silver body of the mallet before slamming it against the gray stone of the podium.

  “A fine choice, sir; I’m sure you’ll be more than pleased with this, ah, lovely specimen.”

  The “specimen” he was referring to was the slim-bodied blonde in red silk bra and panties, and black manacles standing in the middle of the stage. She’s certainly a cute one. Kieran looked at her bare, slender legs, which she crossed as she stood in an attempt at modesty. She was a slip of a girl, her straw-colored hair tied back in a thick French braid and her arms crossed over her small, pert breasts.

  But, just like all the others, not my type.

  With a slow, sweeping gesture of his arm, the auctioneer beckoned the girl to leave the stage. She nodded. Her face was tight with fear; her blue eyes were wide and shimmering, which Kieran could see fro
m his seat dozens of feet back from the stage.

  Docile, timid, and willowy. He traced the circular rim of his drink with a long, graceful finger. I’ll leave those girls for the Ukrainians.

  And, as though on cue, the buyer, a stocky man wearing a pin-striped double-breasted suit and with oil-black hair slicked into a tight sheen stood from a seat closer to the front.

  I should’ve known when he said “double-breasted;” only the Ukrainians would be tacky enough to go for a look like that.

  The Ukrainian walked toward the stage and extended his hand toward the woman he had just purchased. By polite instinct, the girl, who couldn’t have been far out of her teens, extended her own, but was abruptly stopped by the lack of length in her chains. A murmur of laughter swelled from the crowd.

  “No matter,” said the Ukrainian in a thick accent, his low, bass voice tinged with a rich, Slavic accent echoing through the hall, “there will be plenty of time for formalities later.”

  He then gestured toward one of the guards in slim-cut, tailored suits who stood on either end of the stage. They dashed over and undid the chains; the manacles fell to the stage with a heavy thunk. The girl stretched her now-free arms and legs.

  “Come, child,” said the Ukrainian, pointing to the empty chair at his table.

  She nodded with apprehension before stepping off the stage with the timid, shy steps of a baby deer and taking her seat next to her new owner, who put his heavy, burly arm around her and pulled her close.

  Leave it to the Ukrainians to be unable to wait even a minute before getting their hands all over the fresh meat. Kieran shook his head and took a slow draw of his drink.

  “And for our next item, please welcome this lovely young lady, new to our fair city by way of Des Moines,” said the auctioneer in his clear, buttery voice.

  The next girl was brought onto stage by one of the suited guards. Where the previous girl was slim and fair, this girl was shapely, with a rich, olive-colored complexion. Her coal-black hair fell around her face in straight, symmetrical tresses, and her lips were full and painted with a shiny lacquer of dark red lipstick. And unlike the last girl, who seemed fragile and frightened on stage, this one seemed to enjoy the attention; she put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight from one foot to the other while winking and blowing kisses to the audience, the thick metal of her chains clanging together.

  Does this girl not understand the nature of the predicament she’s in? She must think we’re some collection of rich dilettantes bidding on a companion for the weekend. She’ll learn.

  Kieran then cast his gaze toward the Italians, who chatted in quiet but lively tones among each other, probably deciding who had bidding rights on the young Mediterranean beauty on stage.

  Bored, Kieran threw back the last dregs of his drink, letting the bitter tang of blood mixed with rich, caramel-toned whiskey loll over his palate. As he scanned the room, he caught the gaze of Drugi, one of the vampires from the Polish society, and one of Kieran’s only friends outside of his own society of Irish. Drugi raised a slim, small glass of vodka; a crimson streak of blood looked like a small vein in the otherwise clear liquid. Kieran raised his own empty glass, which Drugi noted with a wry grin. Drugi tossed back his shot, and then gestured with sharp points to one of the serving staff, then to Kieran. Within seconds, another drink was in front of him.

  Kieran gave a nod of thanks to Drugi, and took a sip. The time seemed to drag; none of these women appealed to him. They were the same collection of dull-eyed Midwestern cast-offs and prissy rich girls living on their father’s American Express cards as every other year.

  “Eh? You gonna pick one or not?” Ian slapped Kieran on the side of his thigh with the back of his hand.

  Ian was Kieran’s closest friend in the Irish society. They were turned at around the same time, and having someone just as new to the world of the undead as you could be all it took to create a bond like this.

  “When I see one I want, I’ll bid,” said Kieran, his voice laced with traces of an Irish brogue.

  “Yeah, the same thing you say every year, then you go home with nothing. Such a picky one, you are.” Ian waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

  The previous girl had been won and led off the stage; the nods and shoulder-slapping in the Italian group indicated that one of them was her new owner.

  “Our next girl, well, she’s really something special.”

  Kieran suppressed a yawn and checked his watch, not even bothering to register the time.

  “Bring her out!”

  The glass of whiskey was in front of Kieran’s face, blocking his vision, when the girl came on stage. When he lowered it, he was struck in his seat. His honey-colored eyes narrowed, and his slim, but full, lips curled up in one corner.

  Something special, indeed. Kieran reached for the polished ivory handle of his bidding sign. There’s a first time for everything…

  Chapter 2

  Four Hours Earlier

  The boy’s finger was cool to the touch as Nora moved it along the bumpy texture of the Braille text.

  “And what does that part say, little man?” Nora asked, her voice low and sweet.

  “The… zems… zeps…” The boy’s voice trailed off, confused.

  “Try again,” said Nora, not a trace of impatience entering her tone. “I’ll give you a hint: It’s like a horsie, but all striped.”

  The boy’s face flashed with recognition. “A zebra!” he said, speaking through a broad, silly smile.

  “Very good! A zebra is absolutely right,” Nora said, tussling his thick, mustard-yellow hair. “Try again.” She moved his finger back to the beginning of the sentence.

  “The zebra,” he said, placing extra emphasis on that word, and looking up in the general direction of Nora’s face with a proud smile, “lived at the zoo with its friends, the hipa… hipi…”

  “Hippo…”

  “Hippopotamuses!”

  “Very good.”

  “And the hippopotamuses were very big, and very—”

  A low, warm bell tone chimed through the expanse of the dining room, accompanied by a slow dimming and brightening of the lights.

  “Fat!” he shouted, laughing at the idea of big, fat hippopotamuses.

  “Good job, Jacen,” Nora said, “but you know what that sound means.”

  “Awww,” he said, frustrated.

  “I know, I know,” Nora said, closing the thick, flesh-colored pages of the Braille-typed book.

  “And how did my boy do today?”

  Surprised, Nora spun around where she stood behind Jacen and was face-to-face with the heavily-made-up face of Amanda Atherton, Jacen’s mother.

  “Oh!” said Nora, in a sharp exclamation.

  Amanda stepped back, her face marked with a small trace of shock.

  “Mrs. Atherton, I’m so sorry,” said Nora, gathering herself.

  Amanda’s look of surprised was replaced by one of knowing. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, Nora,” she said, holding up her palms. “I, of all people, should know to keep in mind people’s disabilities.”

  “It’s just this thing,” said Nora, pointing to the clear, plastic tubing of the hearing aid in her left ear. “It works, except when it doesn’t want to.”

  “It’s perfectly fine,” Amanda said, each syllable spoken in the crisp diction of the educated Manhattan upper-class.

  Amanda then turned to Jacen, who looked up at her with milky-blue eyes and a beaming smile.

  “And what did my little man learn about today?”

  “Uhm, uhm, we learned about animals at the zoo, like zebras, and, uhm, birds, and hippo-uhm.”

  “Hippopot…” said Nora, raising a slim, delicate finger.

  “Hippopotamuses!” he said, smiling again, imagining what these strange animals must look like in person.

  “Isn’t that exciting!” Amanda smoothed Jacen’s hair.

  “Nora, I just want to tell you how impressed I’ve been with what you’ve been able to
accomplish with Jacen these last few months.” Amanda’s brow lowered in earnestness. “We couldn’t get this little guy to sit still for five minutes before, but you’ve got him reading books for fun.” She shook her head in pleased disbelief. “So thanks, again.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure,” said Nora, a florid blush spreading across her complexion of rich cream. “I’m happy to do what I can for the little man.”

  Amanda gave her another warm smile.

  “Well, I’ll see you out.”

  “Bye, little man,” said Nora, giving Jacen’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

  “Bye, Ms. O’Brien,” he said, before turning his attention back to the book.

  With that, they strolled through the vast, open rooms of the Atherton’s Tribeca townhome. Although Nora had been in this home three times a week for the last two months, she was still floored by the opulence. The ceilings were vaulted and painted bone-white, the walls were made of rich, lacquered wood, and the living room was dominated by a massive fireplace that crackled with a warm, inviting fire. It was a far cry from the Harlem studio where she lived.

  Amanda stopped when they reached the twin, glass-paneled front doors of the home.

  “Nora, I just want to thank you again. I don’t know what you’ve been doing with Jacen, but things have been peaceful around here now that he isn’t just, you know, running around screaming his head off whenever he got frustrated. Which was, just, all the time.”

  Nora’s face flashed with blooms of red, just as the previous blushing was beginning to fade. She turned her head down in slight embarrassment.

  “I’m happy to help,” she said, turning her body toward the door, eager to step away from the compliments she felt undeserving of.

  “And…” Amanda’s voice trailed a bit. “I know you’re new in the city, and I know how hard that is. Believe me,” she said, pressing her palm against her chest, “I’ve done it, too. It’s lonely and scary. So, if you ever want to stop by for dinner, or just to have a cup of coffee, you’re always welcome.”