by Lexie Ray
She reached beneath the sink and scrounged together her cleaning supplies, but as she rose up to throw them onto the counter she realized how hot it was in the house. It was a little warm outside, yes, but she expected them to have the air conditioner on – it surprised her that they didn’t.
She took her jacket off so that she could comfortably get to work, but perhaps she was only stalling. This room was chaotic, and ultimately it was daunting to even think about cleaning, but she had to. It was her job. Her fucking job. She was beginning to wonder – after all that had happened – if she would be better off seeking employment elsewhere. She didn’t want to, but really, what was she to do?
Hoping that cleaning would actually take her mind off of the thoughts currently invading her forethoughts, she decided to actually get to work. Clad in only a tank top and pencil skirt now, she was finally comfortable. She walked over to the mudroom and obtained her Swiffer, ready to begin the ultimate challenge of cleaning this ridiculous untidy kitchen. Footsteps sounded behind her. Fucking hell, what was with this kitchen and his dramatic entrances? Why must he always be there?
She turned around and snapped at him immediately, “Do you mind not stepping in my general direction? I really just want to get my work done early and go home.”
“I want to explain about last night,” he said, sincerity in his eyes. Those eyes. She wondered if they were really innocent or merely just the devil’s eyes, always deceiving those who peered into them. “I just wanted to be able to have a comfortable dinner without any outbursts. I want to discuss things with her on my own, and on my own time,” he continued, conveniently forgetting to mention that he had just made love to his wife.
“Preston, we can’t do this. This is all so wrong! I love these kids, this family. I love my job. I love it all – I want the life I had a few days ago. I was the nanny, the friend, the fucking aunt of sorts. I was just there and I was part of something. I really don’t want this. I’m not even sure if you feel anything for anyone. I thought I knew you, but I’m not sure I do.” She was exasperated but felt fulfilled. She was finally able to express her emotions accurately.
“If I told you I felt something for you, would it change anything?” he asked, stepping closer to her.
She wanted to slap him, to scream at him. But would it change anything? Would it change how she felt? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pursue it, but she couldn’t deny her feelings. She loved him.
“That outfit doesn’t fit our standards of dress code,” Preston told her, changing the subject.
“Oh?” Haley asked, unaware of any “dress code”. Fucking dress code? Was he serious? She had worked for them for twelve years, and there had never been a dress code before now! She had worn this outfit numerous times – hell, she didn’t really have a diverse wardrobe. Why the hell was he bringing this up – especially now?
“I’m ...sorry?” she spit back sarcastically. She was annoyed that he changed the subject rather than actually dealing with the issues at hand.
“I hope so,” Preston replied seriously, closing the distance between them. She gulped. She realized now what he was doing. He was flirting.
Are you serious? Flirting? Now?
Despite her anger, she felt heat rising to her cheeks in a feverish fit as he leaned against her. His hand found hers. Tenderly, he caressed her skin. He let his hand linger there for a moment, and she immediately relaxed. However, in just one moment the sweet nurturing caress of her hands turned to an act of a sexual nature. He moved her hands to the bulge in his pants. “Can you feel what you’ve done?” His husky whisper danced across her flesh and caused her to shiver.
“Yes,” Haley breathed, her inhibitions dropping once again.
“That’s inappropriate to do to your boss,” he continued before using the wrist in his grasp to spin her around in his arms. Her back was now pressed into his hard chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly, entrapping her body in his clutches.
She felt as if she should be protesting, but once again she felt him take control of her emotions and sexual desire. Why did he have this control over her? Why was she so weak? She had no idea, but she knew what was about to happen again.
“I mean, look, your tits are practically falling out of your top...” he trailed in a low voice as he ran his fingers over her chest and traced the line of her cleavage. “Your skirt is too short...” he continued with a murmur, but in reality her skirt was almost to her knees. His hands journeyed downwards with great persistence, and he made sure to tickle her stomach lovingly when he reached the edge of her shirt. But he didn’t stop there. He reached the hem of her skirt, and his hands – as if possessed – reached in and teased her through her underwear.
“Preston!” she gasped, and bucked her hips shamelessly while he played with her.
“You’re actually enjoying this. What should I do about that?” he asked her.
“I think I need to be punished,” she told him. She found that she was much more courageous when she didn’t actually look into his eyes. She could tell he was caught off guard because as soon as she spoke that language of seduction, he exhibited a loud groan. Without another word, though, he maneuvered her towards the couch. She realized as they were moving that she was still holding the Swiffer in her hand, and he did too. He smiled.
“You’ve been a very, very bad girl, Haley... Now, put down your toys,” he told her in a hushed but forceful whisper. He snatched the Swiffer roughly and tossed it to the floor. “You’re right. I think you need to be punished.”
Haley whimpered. She was getting hotter by the second. His tone was quiet, but danger slithered from his tongue and into her ear with every word he uttered. She moaned. This was all such an appropriate representation of their relationship, she thought wildly. And now she was finally starting to understand. She understood now why she kept going back, why, despite everything, she was still drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She loved the danger, reveled in it, craved it, and above all else – it made her wet with excitement.
So was it all lust? No. Definitely not. But she could never deny that lust played the largest part in this production of an affair. She felt something deeply for him, indeed, but had her sexual desire not been so savagely ignited by him, this affair would have ceased after the first encounter – or perhaps, may not have happened at all. The thrill of getting caught, the excitement of having someone that was unavailable, and perhaps the taboo of that someone being so close, was all enough to drive her to heated insanity.
Preston trailed kisses on her neck and moved the straps of her tank top over so that he could bite the flesh atop her shoulder. He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her forcefully so that she caught herself on the back of the couch. She was standing now, ass in the air, bent at the waist with her face buried in the couch’s fabric. She could almost feel his cocky grin getting bigger by the moment.
He ran his fingertips over her clothed sides and down over the fabric of her skirt. He pulled at the hem so that that it folded up around her bum just enough to see the edges of her underwear peek out from underneath.
“God damn. Lacey panties?” she heard him mutter under his breath. She almost started laughing. He wanted to appear unphased; he wanted to be strong, forceful, and punishing, but he was caught up just as much as she was. She loved it, but let him continue his need for a dominating fantasy. He pushed her skirt up more so that he could expose her fully. He fingered the lacey fabric and admired the way it showed off her flesh and only halfway covered her swollen bum. He smacked one of the cheeks lightly, and it bounced with a springing fervor. He froze.
“Why did you stop?” Haley breathed, confused. She arched her back and pushed her ass further out, hoping that he would continue. Secretly, she had her suspicions as to what he was thinking about. She looked over her shoulder and saw a glimmer of what looked like remorse dance across his eyes. He looked as if guilt was eating at him from every crevice of his heart and soul. Hell, it wasn’t
only disrupting his mental state, but even his physical actions. It must be remorse. Sadness swept over her suddenly. She didn’t know that this position reminded him of his wife. She didn’t know that was why he froze, but nonetheless, she saw it.
She finally saw it. She had always wondered if he felt anything more than lust and the moment, and now she believed he did. She had never thought Preston was a bad man, but she wondered if he felt guilty for cheating on his wife with her. She always wondered, and now she believed she had her answer.
She deliberated on whether or not he had caught her looking. But where his gaze was once frozen on her back side, it was soon shaken away. He had physically shaken his head to rid himself of the thoughts that were likely flooding in. He continued by slapping her ass once again, only much harder. She cringed in pain as well as pleasure – but she was also a bit disheartened.
She wanted to say something, to turn around, kiss him tenderly, and tell him he didn’t have to keep going. She wanted to tell him that it was ok to stop. Sex or their affair, she wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but just that it was ok. She just wanted his happiness to flourish. At the same time, though, she cursed herself for even thinking of stopping this. She was aching for his dick; she wanted to beg to be taken hard from behind.
“Preston,” she began, sincerity caking over the disappointment, camouflaging it.
“Don’t.” he responded sternly, his voice cracking ever so slightly. If she hadn’t been on alert from the actions conveyed just moments earlier, she would have never caught it, but there was a definite tinge of sadness in his voice. “You need to be punished. Don’t back talk to me,” he finished. She knew him well enough to know that what he wanted more than anything was to keep going. He didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was plaguing him. He just wanted this and her.
He slapped her, now reddened, butt cheeks again. She squealed beneath him as the heat flowed through her. The pain felt so good, but she was through being teased. Just as she was about to protest, his fingers dipped down between her legs to stroke her clit. With one hand, he massaged it, and took it gently between his forefinger and thumb.
“Preston!” she moaned in ecstasy.
“Quiet!” he demanded, while contradictorily soothing the redness of her cheeks away by gently caressing them. She squirmed beneath him, and stuck her ass further into the air. Not able to resist, he gave it another hard and deliberate swat.
She had never been spanked before, at least not sexually. She loved the naughtiness of it, and with every slap seemed to get more and more aroused. Still teasing her clit and working her over with skill and precision, he groaned and gained momentum. He was obviously quite aroused himself. She smirked. “I’m a very bad girl. I deserve to be spanked. I need you to teach me a lesson,” she said as she seductively pushed her ass up higher again.
Preston moaned, his erection growing harder. Her dirty talk was encouraging him, allowing him to know that she was submitting. That’s what she wanted. She wanted to be taken. She wanted him. She needed him.
He brought his hand back down on her ass again; the loud smacking noise filled the room, accompanied by her gasping breath. He rubbed her wetness and swirled the juices over her clit as he spanked her again, and again. She could feel him watch her as she writhed over the couch. She was taking her punishment well, she imagined, as she felt his bulge rub against her naked thigh.
“You’re so naughty,” he said, asserting force – in an alternating fashion – against both cheeks of her ass in powerful smacks. “You better not be enjoying this,” he continued in a gruff, stern voice as he slid his fingers over her slit. She felt him glide over her with ease. She was soaking, the arousal rising up from her core. She tried not to moan, but it seemed inevitable at this point. He felt so good. So damn good.
She licked her lips. “Do you like that, baby?” he asked her. She whimpered again. He had never called her baby before, and she didn’t hate it. “I said, do you like it?” Preston asked again, but she was unable to answer. Instead of uttering a single word, she grinded into his fingers with great enthusiasm in response, hoping that it would satisfy his curiosity.
As she rubbed herself onto his fingers, he became even more heated. His rubs became relentless between her legs as he worked her clit furiously. She bit her lips roughly as she felt her climax coming full force. She was embarrassed to orgasm so quickly, but she didn’t want him to stop. Ever. So, hiding how good she really felt, she buried her face into the softness of the couch. She felt herself moving over the edge and prayed that the sounds would be muffled by the cushy fabric.
She trembled and rocked her body against him as the wave crashed over her. Her toes curled. She couldn’t believe it. She had gotten off from his words, the rough spanking, and the clitoral stimulation. She wanted more, needed his dick.
He smacked her a few more times before he stopped. She let out ragged breaths, ready for more. As if reading her mind, his hands were once again all over her. He soothed her red, stinging skin once again. “I think that’s enough for now,” he said, helping her pull her up to her feet. He turned her around to face him.
Panting breathlessly, she looked at him. She only imagined what she looked like, but with him, she was fine being vulnerable. She loved him. She really did. She felt herself blush, her gut continuing to twist with arousal.
“Did you cum just a moment ago?” he asked, a hint of humor coating his voice. She looked away, and refused to meet his gaze. Fuck. He knew. Her legs still wobbling underneath her, she sat down on the couch. She flinched, her ass still sore from the spanking.
His eyes glazed over with another emotion. The lust had left momentarily and was replaced with instinctual love. He crouched down, moved between her legs, and distracted her with a slow, sultry kiss atop her lips
Haley gripped at his shirt, crumpling it tightly, and pulled him up and into her. She clung to him and pressed her body into his. He attacked her mouth almost desperately and held her closely against him as he returned the passion with equal enthusiasm.
Their tongues tussled together in a feverish battle until they finally pulled apart. Catching his breath, Preston began undoing the buttons on his shirt. She exhaled deeply and tore away at the expensive purple garment before throwing it across the room.
He extended his hands and grabbed her breasts gently, then tugged at them slightly, just enough to elicit a small moan. “Keep going,” she whispered quietly. “Preston, please...” The pit of her stomach jerked from within her as she throbbed for him.
Haley kissed him again and cried out with eagerness as he gathered her in his strong, muscled arms and placed her feet solidly on the floor. He towered over her and pressed his body into hers. “Feel that?” he asked, rubbing his crotch against her stomach.
Mm. His erection was harder than rock. She loved that cock. She wondered why he had been holding out so long. His throbbing member was far beyond ready to pounce; it seemed almost aching to be inside of her, almost as much as she was aching for it to be inside of her. Why was he still teasing?
“I need you to make me cum,” he told her, almost demandingly. Finally she thought with delight. Her gut was stirring, and she was flowing with desire once again. She reached for his cock immediately, obeying his request – only he stopped her. Just as she began to protest, and just like he always did before she actually got to – he explained.
“On your knees,” he smirked.
Under normal circumstances, she would have scoffed at him. Perhaps, she might have slapped him. No matter what her reaction though, she would have made damn sure that he knew what an arrogant prick he sounded like. But not today. Today was different. Being dominated, punished, controlled – it was all so hot in this moment. Today was different. Somehow she had been quelled to do just what he had asked, because before she even thought of any of this she had kneeled before him, unzipped his pants, and pulled his large erection out of the confides of his pants.
She tug
ged at the top of his trousers to pull them even farther down so that she could provide the most satisfaction – and, admittedly, get the best access to his beautiful member. He gasped slightly as her lips pursed against the tip and she placed a small kiss atop it. Grinning, she tongued the head passionately and licked lightly into his slit. He winced in pleasure.
His cock hard, heavy and eager, she took him into her mouth bit by bit. Her mouth was filled, and she groaned once again. As ridiculous as it sounds, tasting him, having him inside of her mouth – filling that open orifice – was enough to cause her heart to race with tender love.
Though this moment – by any observer’s standards – was far from tender and loving, she felt that infamous beckoning emotion so many could ever dare to only strive for. By someone in passing, this situation would be quite crude, indeed. She was kneeling before a married man – her boss in fact, sucking his cock in his family’s home.
She bobbed over the head with intensity, her hands gripping the base so that she could work him up and down in perfect rhythm with her mouth. "Look at me," he demanded, as he pulled at her brown hair. She did. She obeyed and looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.
"God, you’re so good," Preston groaned. Encouraged, she sucked even harder and faster. Her tongue ran firmly along the underside of the base. He moaned, and she took him – in all of his girth – back into her mouth.
"You look so hot like that," he said, pulling her head back up to look at him. An intense flush rose to her face, half from embarrassment, and the other half from pure arousal. "I want you to touch yourself while you suck me,” Preston ordered again.
