Falling For Her

by Mia Ford

  “What a fucking prick,” I said.

  Nicky’s head bobbed. “Yes, he is a fucking prick, but he’s not an unreasonable man. After I mopped up the place with Jimmy, I had a little private talk with Tony in the alley out back of the club. It took a little convincing and getting my uncle Gino involved, but eventually, Tony saw the error of his ways and delivered the money to my office. I opened the account and waited to hear from you. It’s been a few weeks. I figured you didn’t want to speak to me.”

  “What didn’t you call me?” I asked quietly.

  “Would you have taken my call? Would you have believed anything I had to say?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Well, there you go,” he said, clasping his hands together. “I assume your father is okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine now.”

  “That’s good.” He licked his lips and gazed into my eyes. “And you? How are you, really?”

  I thought about it for a moment, then sighed through a smile. “You know, I’m okay. I mean, this was all a mess, but in a way, I’m glad it happened. My dad has quit drinking and gambling. His business has picked up. He’s healthy and happy. For the first time in a long while, I think he’s going to be fine. We both are.”

  “Have you enrolled in school?”

  I snorted a laugh. “No, up until this moment I thought I was broke.”

  “Now you’re not broke,” he said, sweeping his hand in the air. “Start applying for the fall semester.”

  “I may do that,” I said. I let my eyes rest on his. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Nicky. I know now that you really are a good guy.”

  “I have my off moments,” he said, leaning over the desk and smiling with his eyes. “You make me want to be a good guy.”

  “I do?”

  “You do.” He glanced at his watch. “You know, it is lunchtime and I’m famished.”

  “It is? You are?”

  “It is and I am. There’s a Nathan’s just up the block. Can I interest you in a hotdog, Miss Donovan?”

  “You can, Mr. D’Angelo. Among other things.”

  He came around the desk and held out his hand. I hesitated for a moment, then put my hand in his and let him pull me out of the chair and into his arms. He kissed me softly on the lips as I melted into him.

  Maybe things were going to work out after all.

  EPILOG: Katrina

  College was a lot harder than high school. Even though I was just a freshman taking basic courses, I knew that I had my work cut out for me. To become a cancer researcher, I would need to earn a bachelor’s degree in biology or some other life science, then a graduate degree and maybe even a Ph.D. It could take years and cost every cent I had and then some, but someday, if I kept going, I would be Dr. Katrina Donovan, cancer researcher.

  My mom would have been so proud of me, although I don’t know if she could have been any prouder than my dad. He told everyone who came into the bar that his daughter was going to be a doctor. They even started calling me Dr. Donovan when I brought their rounds of beer and shots.

  I had been accepted at NYU in the fall, which meant I could go to school and keep working at the bar to help my dad. It wasn’t MIT, but that might come someday. I had a very long road ahead of me. Luckily, I had Nicky D’Angelo coming along for the ride.

  * * *

  Nicky was sitting up reading some financial magazine when I came out of the bathroom naked from the shower and crawled into the king-sized bed next to him. He pretended to be engrossed in some article about international currency trading, but when I nuzzled up to him and slid my hand between his legs, he seemed to lose the ability to read.

  “Mmmm, what are you doing?” he asked, tossing the magazine to the floor and wrapping his arms around me. His cock was long and hard in my hand. I worked my fingers up and down the veiny shaft and teased his hard nipple with my tongue.

  “I’m forcing you to take a break,” I said, my tongue working its way up his neck. I took little bites out of his jaw on my way to his lips.

  “Do I look like I need a break,” he asked, opening his mouth so my tongue could slide inside.

  “You do,” I said, moving to straddle his thighs so I could milk his cock in front of me. His hands came up to my tits and gave them a firm squeeze. He rolled my hard nipples between his fingers, making me moan in delicious pain.

  “Can I read my magazine after you fuck my brains out?” he asked, putting his hands on my hips to pull me onto his cock.

  “You can try,” I said with a smile. “But I doubt you’ll be able to.”

  I held his cock with one hand and slowly impaled myself onto it. The breath rushed from my lungs as he filled my entire cunt with his long, thick manhood.

  “That feels amazing…” I moaned, putting my hands on his chest as I slowly slid my hips back and forth down the length of him. He dug his fingers into my sides to help me along.

  “Yes, it does…” he said. “Amazing…”

  “God, you’re setting me on fire,” I said, closing my eyes as the heat from my cunt radiated throughout my entire body. It was warm in the bedroom. I started to sweat as the heat from our bodies intensified.

  “Oh… fuck…” he moaned, arching his hips to drive deeper into my cunt. “You’re so fucking… tight…”

  I licked the sweat from my lips and lowered my mouth onto his. He was sweating, too. He was salty on my tongue. His skin was glistening and slick beneath me.

  “I’m cumming…” I moaned as the orgasm began to shudder through me.

  Nicky slid his hands around to my ass and started pummeling me onto his cock. “Cum with me, baby… cum… cum…”

  He growled and stiffened beneath me, every muscle in his body rippling as he filled me with his hot seed. I came with him, gushing hot juices over his cock and balls, making a wonderfully sticky mess. The room filled with the scent of our sex and sweat. We thrust at each other for a moment more, then I collapsed on top of him, panting in his ear,

  “Fuck… I needed that,” he said with his lips at my ear.

  “So did I,” I said, getting up onto my elbows. I was literally burning up. I brushed the back of my hand acros my forehead. I was sweating like crazy and so was he.

  “I may have turned the heat up too high,” he said with a happy sigh. “I didn’t want you to freeze when you got out of the shower. Now I’m sweating like pig. Wait, Dr. Donovan, do pigs sweat?”

  I smiled and kissed his lips. “I’m not sure,” I said, gazing into his eyes. “But there is one thing I know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I’m making love to you, sweat is so fucking sexy.”

  He ran his tongue up my neck like he was licking an ice cream cone and said, “Yes, ma’am, it certainly is.”

  I put my hands on his face and looked deeply into his eyes. “Thank you for buying me, Mr. D’Angelo. You saved my life.”

  He smiled and nuzzled his nose to mine. “My darling, it was the wisest money I have ever invested… With the most wonderful returns.”

  NOTE: Continue next to read TRAIN ME DADDY

  Train Me Daddy

  June

  I’ve never been in love, but when I see him, I think this could be real.

  The only thing is,…

  He’s not just a single dad, he’s the father of one of my students.

  He’s rich, gorgeous, and charming.

  What would he want with a naïve little girl like me?

  All I know is that I’ve never been this turned on in my life. My body is begging for more. But somehow I know that playing with fire is only going to get me burned.

  Thomas

  After my divorce, I swore off women.

  That is, until I saw her. Petite, pale, with masses of black hair and intense eyes.

  I know I have to have her. Her sweet body is begging for me to dominate her, to make her mine.

  The problem?

  I think I might be falling in more than just lust.

  C
hapter One

  June

  “Come to order, please!” I stood up and clapped my hands together, staring at my kids and waiting for them to calm down. My words had no effect – the room full of fifth graders was just as loud and noisy as it had been thirty seconds ago.

  “Calm down!” I yelled, clapping my hands again and smacking my palms on the desk. This time, thankfully, the room fell silent.

  “Thank you all,” I said, smiling tightly. “I know the day is almost over, and tomorrow’s--”

  “Tomorrow's Friday!”

  “Yes,” I said. I could feel my smile fading. “Tomorrow is Friday, and that means we've got a lot of work before the weekend.”

  My class let out a collective groan. “Miss Rogers, it's so warm outside!”

  “Yeah, it's like summer!”

  “Except not as good 'cause the pool's not open!”

  “Please!” I yelled, holding my hand in the air. “Please, guys, calm down. We've only got one more assignment for the day, okay? And then if you all are good, you can have a treat from the Treat Apple.” I pointed to the small, plastic apple on my desk filled with individually-wrapped candies.

  The class let out a collective enthusiastic murmur and I sat down behind my desk. Grabbing a handful of photocopied papers, I handed them over my desk to my teacher's assistant, Ruth.

  “Thanks June,” Ruth said. She rolled her eyes. “They're really a handful today, aren't they?”

  I nodded. “Just tell them to read the paragraph and write a short summary at the bottom – no more than fifty words, okay?”

  Ruth nodded. I sighed as she began walking around the room and passing out the papers. I had no idea what was in the water of P.S. 151, but whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn't be around for much longer. This was only my second year teaching, and I was already starting to feel like I needed a vacation.

  The year had started off well. Kids were always so well-behaved during the first month or so of school. But now that we were well into October, they were starting to bounce off the walls. It didn't help that the weather outside in New York City was still as warm as summer, albeit with less humidity. Seeing the kids get all excited to go home and play was making me a little nostalgic for my own youth.

  Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of pencils scratching on papers. Ruth sat down heavily at her desk and rolled her eyes. She was an older woman – probably in her mid-fifties – who had come back to work after going through a surprise divorce. When she'd first been assigned to me, I'd been nervous. After all, I was only twenty-two...I couldn't stop thinking about how difficult life would be if Ruth tried to boss me around. But thankfully, Ruth had always been a perfect coworker. She was good at calming the kids down, and honestly, I think they respected her a little more than they respected me. It's probably her age, I thought as I watched her. These kids are probably used to teachers as old as their grandparents.

  Back in college, I'd had no idea that I wanted to teach fifth-graders. I'd initially thought about younger kids. But I'd been assigned to a sixth-grade classroom for student teaching, and something about the older kids really intrigued me. They weren't babies anymore, but almost on the brink of becoming real little people. I loved the idea of influencing kids, for the better, and helping them to become better people.

  The sudden sound of a girl crying out made me snap my head up and stare. Brett March, a particularly difficult student, was standing beside Lily Bulger and tugging at one of her pigtails. Lily's face was red and streaked with tears, and Brett was staring down at the little girl with a cruel, mocking smile.

  “Miss Rogers!” Lily cried. “Brett won't leave me alone!”

  “She started it!” Brett retorted. “She wouldn't let me do my work!”

  I leapt from my chair and strode over. “Brett, you leave Lily alone right now!”

  Brett glared at me defiantly. I wondered what his deal was – at the beginning of the year, he'd been so sweet and well-behaved. But over the last few weeks, I'd noticed a definite change in his personality for the worse – almost like he'd become a different person. I knew children at this age were right on the cusp of puberty, but Brett exhibited such anger that it almost frightened me.

  Lily was looking up at me, her green eyes filled with tears. Truth be told, I found her fairly annoying. She was a little princess who cried if she didn't get her way, but she was too much of a goody-two shoes to have initiated anything. I sometimes had a feeling the other children were just as annoyed with her as I was, but still – that didn't warrant an attack from Brett.

  “Miss Rogers, I wasn't doing anything, I swear!” Brett howled. “I told you, she started it! She wouldn't stop sticking her tongue out at me!”

  I sighed. “Brett, I'm going to have to call your parents about this,” I said slowly. “This is the third time this week you've deliberately harmed another student!”

  Brett gave me a sulky expression. “Fine,” he said. “Do it. Call them. See if I care.” He turned on his heel and slouched back to his desk.

  “Brett,” I said in a warning tone. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

  Brett turned to me with a sullen look on his face. “What?”

  I jerked my head towards Lily. She was still sitting at her desk, pouting, her cheeks red with anger.

  “Apologize, please,” I said.

  Brett groaned. “Sorry, Lily,” he muttered.

  I knew I should make him do it again, but I was tired. It had been a long day – honestly, I was just as excited for Friday as the kids, but only because I needed a break.

  “Thank you, Brett,” I said. “You may take your seat now.”

  Ruth collected the papers and shortly after, the bell rang. The kids screamed and ran from their seats. I didn't even have the energy to make them line up at the door like usual, while they waited for their buses and parents to bring them home. I was so drained – part of me even wanted to call in sick tomorrow, or ask Ruth to cover most of the day. But I knew I couldn't be getting so lazy. After all, it was only my second year teaching.

  When the kids and Ruth had gone, I settled behind my desk with a feeling of dread in my stomach. I knew Brett's home situation was slightly unusual – he lived alone with his father – and I wondered if in part, that was the reason why he was acting out. Maybe there was something odd going on at home – maybe there was something beyond my control.

  I looked up Brett's father's number, then dialed and held the phone to my ear.

  “Hello, this is Hannah. How may I help you?”

  I frowned. On Brett's contact page, his mother was listed as Marlene.

  “I'm calling for Thomas March,” I said. “I'm June Rogers – Brett's teacher.”

  “Oh,” Hannah cooed. “Want me to take a message?”

  I frowned. She sounded annoyingly chipper. “No,” I said curtly. “I really need to speak to Mr. March, if possible.” I cringed – if possible? Really? I knew I needed to start being a lot more assertive if I was going to make it as a teacher.

  Hannah sighed. “Fine,” she snapped. “Hold please.” Before I could agree, I heard a click followed by elevator music. After just a few moments, there was another click and a deep masculine voice filled my ear.

  “Hello, this is Thomas.”

  “Hi, Mr. March,” I said. “I'm calling about your son – Brett.”

  “Oh. What's the problem?”

  I sighed. “Mr. March, I'd really rather discuss this in person. Would you be able to come by the school tomorrow evening, say around three-thirty?”

  “Of course.” I shivered. Thomas's voice was thrilling and deep. After listening to the sound of ten-year-old kids all day, it filled me with a kind of pleasure that made me blush.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I really mean it.”

  “Not a problem. Brett is my first priority.”

  We hung up and I shivered again, suddenly nervous about tomorrow. I hadn't had very many parent-teacher conferences, and they'd all gone pretty wel
l...but I'd never had to call a parent about a child's behavior before and I wondered how Mr. March was going to take the news.

  When I got home, my roommate Angela was sitting on the couch and watching a movie. She grinned when she saw me. Angela worked at an investment bank, from six-thirty in the morning until three in the afternoon. She was the only person I knew who had a similar schedule to me. That wasn't why we lived together, though – we'd been best friends ever since college, when we'd been assigned as roommates, freshman year. I wouldn't have survived Hunter College without her, and I was still grateful that we were close friends.

  “What a day,” I groaned. “I felt like I was behind that desk forever!”

  Angela smiled sympathetically before yawning. “I know,” she said. “I opened a bottle of wine. It's in the fridge, you want?”

  I hauled myself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, kicking off my heels on the tiled floor. Sure enough, there was a jumbo-size bottle of a white blend in the fridge, and I poured some into a plastic wine glass sitting on the counter.