by Amy Brent
“I love you, too,” I said, kissing her. More cheering erupted around us.
We didn’t get back to my house until late that night. We stumbled down the hall, tripping over some of Allie’s moving boxes. Within another week or so she would officially be moved in. The house smelled good all the time now. My fridge was full. My bed was always warm. Living with Allie was going to be such an awesome adventure.
I took her into the bedroom. We undressed. Then I wrapped my arm around her and lowered her down onto the bed beneath me. We kissed every part of each other. She held onto my wrists and spread her legs. She wrapped them around my waist, and I rose to the occasion. I pressed into her.
She moaned into my mouth. I silenced her by sealing my lips over hers.
I held her face in my hands and stared down at her as I moved inside her pussy. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.
I rocked against her and held her in my arms. She clung to me. I felt like I couldn’t get as close to her as I wanted even though I was inside her. The desperation in the way she held me made me think she felt the same way.
“I love you,” I told her as I continued to bury my cock in her.
“I love you, too,” she half-whispered half-moaned.
I straightened above her. She unwrapped her legs from my waist and let me push her legs back so that I could get deeper inside her. She moaned as I rested her ankles on my shoulders and fucked her hard and deep.
Her fingers curled in the sheets. She couldn’t keep her eyes closed. Each breath was sharp and desperate. She was going to come.
I wanted to feel her tighten around my cock. I wanted to feel her get wetter. I pushed her legs back farther and slid myself deep into her pussy. She moaned and whispered my name.
My name on her lips drove me wild. I began thrusting harder and faster. She cried out my name this time. I grabbed her shoulders to hold her in place as my cock thrust into her. Then, all at once, we both came. I filled her pussy, and she held my wrists as her body shook with her orgasm.
We moved apart, and I flopped down on the bed beside her. She looked over at me with a smile playing on her lips.
Then she sat up and leaned across me, reaching for the nightstand on her side of my bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not that I minded the way she was squishing her tits against my chest.
She opened the drawer and pulled something out. Then she crossed her legs and sat beside me. She held up what she had grabbed: a pen and a little yellow book. Her diary.
I crossed my arms behind my head, and she opened the diary and set it on my stomach to use me as a table. I rested a hand on her knee as she leaned over to write. But I couldn’t keep my hand there. The way she was sitting was just begging for me to touch her. So I trailed my hand up the inside of her thigh and began playing with her clit while she tried to write.
“Steven.” She giggled, pretending to put up a fight. “Let me write this quickly.”
“What? You can’t write while I play with you?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“Try it,” I encouraged.
She scowled playfully at me and leaned over the book, the pen poised above the paper. When she pressed the tip of it to the page, I slipped a finger into her. She moaned but didn’t stop writing. Her hand moved quickly, frantically, as I fucked her with my fingers. I could tell that she was struggling to keep it together.
When she was done she fell back, my fingers still in her pussy. Her diary fell closed on my stomach, and the pen rolled off the edge of the bed. I picked up the book with my free hand and pulled my finger out of her to rub her clit once more. “Can I read what you wrote?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said breathlessly.
I opened to the most recent page. There was no heading like all her other entries, and she had written right smack in the middle of the page rather than starting at the top like she always did. The entry was short:
Dear Diary,
There’s something you need to know. Something that will make all the other pages a thing of the past: They lived happily ever after.
I smiled at her words.
“Happily ever after sounds pretty damn good,” I said.
“Doesn’t it?” she said, sitting up and leaning over me. I played with her clit some more as she kissed me. Then she lay on her side beside me, and I hugged her to me.
I ran my fingers over her hip. She pressed her ass up against my crotch. My dick was hard. I slipped it between her legs. It slid easily into her wet pussy. She clutched her pillow and arched her back so that I could get deeper inside her.
I worked her over slowly. She rotated her hips against me in an even rhythm. I loved the way it felt when she ground on me like that. She turned her face to me, and we kissed. I sucked on her bottom lip. She let out a whispering moan.
“Fuck me as hard as you can, fiancé,” she said playfully.
I lifted her leg in the air. She rubbed her clit. I did as she said.
I fucked her as hard as I could. She threw her head back and nearly screamed with pleasure. I kissed her shoulder and held her to me, burying my cock deeper and deeper inside her with every thrust. She rubbed herself faster.
We both climaxed together. Then we stayed like that, joined together until I forced myself to get up and clean off. Allie did the same.
We got back into bed. Allie cozied up tight to my side and rested her cheek on my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my skin.
“So,” she said softly. “When do we want to get married?”
“Whenever you want,” I said. “You’ve wanted a fall wedding since you were in high school, haven’t you?”
“Yes. The autumn colors are beautiful.”
“Fall it is,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “What kind of dress do you want?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. I felt her eyelashes on my chest as she closed her eyes. “I guess I’ll have to try a bunch on.”
“I bet you’ll love that.”
“I will,” she said happily. “Married. We’re getting married. I’m so happy, Steven.”
“Me too,” I said, rubbing her shoulder with my thumb. “I can’t wait to marry you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Allie Wright. The best thing.”
She curled up closer to me. The scent of her coconut shampoo filled the air. I was so looking forward to breathing that in every night and every morning for the rest of my life.
I sighed. So this is what people had seen all these years that I had been blind to. Allie and me. Soul mates—two people who were meant to be together.
I was glad they had all been right.
The End
Thank you for reading and for your support. Turn the page to read my exclusive never before published novella – My Son’s Sitter.
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Exclusive: My Son’s Sitter
Chapter 1: Clayton
If I didn’t know any better, I would say that the city is shedding gray flakes of skin.
I walk with one leg thrown in front of the other, not fixing my gaze on anything in particular. Right now, my thoughts hold sway. In just a few minutes, the new nanny is coming over—aka, the single thing I’ve been trying to avoid for the past four years. But there was only so long I could argue with my poor overworked mother before I had to admit it to myself: I need the help.
It hasn’t been easy staying focused on my business with Winston on my mind. He’s too young for school, and I’ve had more than enough of a taste of the daycares in this area to know that they aren’t for us.
With Briar Tree Daycare, the two bumbling women in charge somehow allowed my son to wander not only off the premises but into a neighbouring forest. It was hours before he was recovered. The next one, Cheery Seven-day Program, wasn’t much better. Turns out the kids there have a penchant for sociopathy, and several of them ganged up on and beat poor Winston for a good five minutes before the incompetents in charge noticed. A
nd the last, Gage Drive, which I tried against my better instincts, was merely a happy-go-lucky play place where all the children sat around listlessly, wiggling toy tigers and lions. Winston actually fell asleep there.
So yes, I’m not going to let my son near any of that anymore. I don’t care about the cost, mentally or physically. He deserves better. It’s not his fault his mom is a crazy drug addict who ran off or that his dad is a workaholic who needs to find the next big thing.
The lack of a proper daycare is taking a toll on my work, though. And the longer it takes me to figure out my next move, the worse the outlook.
Sure, the Tickling Tots animal series, starting with the koala and ending with the most recent one, a ridiculously fat alligator, has given me more than my fair share of success. For the last three years it has been sold out in toy stores across the nation. But I can’t rest on my laurels indefinitely. Sales have been slacking for months, and the writing is on the wall. It’s damn well near carved there. I need to find something else.
But all that doesn’t matter if my son isn’t well cared for. And I can’t sit at home playing with Winston and keep my business afloat. So, there it is. I need a nanny. Besides, if my mom of all people is okay with it, I should be too.
As I approach, I allow my eyes to rest affectionately on the cobblestone façade of my house. This place has always been more of a home to me than that old red-brick prison I lived in with mom and dad back when they were still together.
When I go inside, my mom is in the foyer within seconds. She gives me a big hug, pressing her rosy face into my shoulder.
As she pulls away, she gives me a stern smile.
“I would tell you good luck, but you won’t need it. Remember, this girl came with the highest recommendations.”
I nod, trying to smile. I know better than my mom does. I’m the one who scoured every search engine known to man for nannies, narrowed down the hundreds of applicants to my post, and, ultimately, made the final decision. Our nanny-to-be, Stevie, sounds promising enough. Through her well-described profile with its blurry photo, as well as our numerous exchanges, I’ve come to learn that she’s a twenty-one-year-old university student who sounds upbeat and trustworthy. Although truthfully, I can’t pinpoint why she seems like the right fit. Gut instinct, maybe.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and greet her with you?” my mom asks, pausing at the door.
“Thanks, but no. You have to get to work, and I don’t want you hemming and hawing over everything.”
As well-meaning as my mom is, she’s a bit of a worrier. Actually, scratch that. She’s a lot of a worrier.
Coming around the corner, Winston hurtles toward me.
“Daddy!”
I sweep him up and around in my arms.
“You ready for your new nanny, buddy?”
As I set him down on the hardwood floor, his brow creases.
I have to hold back a tender smile. My son reminds me of myself more than he knows. Not just in the physical sense, that he shares my dark red hair and deep blue eyes, but personality-wise. He’s often serious and inquisitive.
“It’s not going to be like the daycares, right?” he asks for about the seventh time.
Leaning down, I smooth a cowlick of hair on the back of his head.
“It’s going to be nothing like the daycares,” I reassure him. “First of all, she’s going to stay here at home with you, so you can just play with your toys or do whatever you want. Second of all, this girl, Stevie, is extremely nice and she’s trained to have fun with kids just like you.”
Seeing that grave forehead furrow diminish, I say, “Today is just a trial. So, at the end, if you don’t like her, she won’t come back again.”
This sets Winston into a definitive smile.
“So I’ll be able to spend the whole day with you?”
A guilt pierces my heart.
Leaning over, I collect Winston in my arms, patting his head reassuringly. How do I tell him that, as much as I want to spend each and every day with him, I can’t? That already our finances have been suffering from my extended absences from the work?
As I pull away, Winston’s four-year-old face angles toward me hopefully, the sprinkle of freckles on his nose all scrunched up.
“We’ll figure something out, bud,” I tell him. “Promise.”
Ding dong dang dong… Ding dong dang dong…
Both of us wheel around toward the door.
Taking Winston’s hand, I squeeze it.
“That’s her,” I say, putting on my best eager voice.
Because, really, I’m as nervous about this as Winston is. I’ve done everything I could to avoid this moment, and yet here it is regardless.
I open the door.
“Hi,” the girl says brightly.
After a few seconds, she becomes worried.
“Clayton Matthews, right?”
I still haven’t answered her because, right now, there doesn’t seem to be appropriate words for what I’m feeling.
Boner-inducing sexy. That’s what this girl is. Stevie’s damn lucky that her picture was blurry because I never would’ve hired her otherwise. I specifically avoided the nannies who looked too groomed or just too pretty in general. And while Stevie doesn’t look like she spent more than ten minutes getting ready, she is definitely too pretty for my comfort.
She has big innocent baby blue eyes and flyaway honey-brown hair gathered into a sloppy ponytail held by a purple scrunchie, all atop shapely hips and a generous bust that even her oversized gray T-shirt can’t hide. I tear my eyes away from her.
“Yes,” I say in a clipped tone.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Should I just fire her on the spot? Say that something came up, that there was some kind of mix-up?
“And this must be little Winston,” Stevie says. She crouches down to his level, giving him a little wave.
Shielded by my legs, Winston’s head peers out as he waves back with the beginnings of a smile pricking the corners of his mouth.
Shit. Already, he looks charmed. Well, I might as well give the girl a chance. She is here right on time—early actually.
“Sorry,” I say, opening the door so she can come in. “You just took me by surprise. We were expecting you at noon sharp.”
White teeth bite down on the corner of her pink lower lip.
“Sorry about that,” she says. “I bussed here and wasn’t exactly sure where it was, so I left a bit early to make sure I got here on time.”
She seems to be having a problem looking me in the eye too. Works for me.
“Not a problem,” I say, closing the door behind her.
At the loud sound, she jumps.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She gives a sheepish smile. “Fine, thanks.”
We stand there awkwardly for a minute, eyeing each other. It occurs to me that I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving the instructions, not the one waiting for what will happen next.
“So about today,” I say, finally fixing my gaze on Winston, who’s now eyeing Stevie curiously. “The two of you can play in the basement. I’ll check in from time to time just to make sure everything’s going smoothly. In the future, you and Winston will be left here alone. You’ll be responsible for preparing lunch, but there are ingredients for sandwiches in the fridge. As for payment, since I’ll be needing you from 9 to 4 every day, you’ll receive a hundred and forty per night, five days a week—so whatever that is weekly.”
A smile quirks up her lips. “Seven hundred dollars.”
“Oh, a math whiz?”
“I don’t know,” she says, the blue of her eyes becoming an unsettled gray. “That’s partly why I’m babysitting. I mean I love horses, but you can’t really make a career out of that. After high school, I started freaking out because everyone else seemed to have it all figured out while I could hardly narrow down the five majors I was interested in to four. I almost ran off to Australia it got so bad. Last fall, though, I start
ed off just taking some online university courses part time, and so far that’s worked out well, although I still have no clue what I really want to do for a career.”
“I still don’t really know what I want to do myself,” I say with a little laugh. “So while I’d love to reassure you that it gets better, I think there’s always uncertainties.”
Abruptly, I turn away. What the fuck is my problem? This girl is my son’s nanny, not my newest best friend.
“Anyway, Winston, you want to show Stevie the basement?”
Turning my back on them, I dismiss her without another word. That already got way too close and casual for comfort. Business, that’s what this is.
I take refuge upstairs in my office. There, in my wood-paneled man cave, I get to work. This consists of what my free moments in the afternoons have lately consisted of: research. I painstakingly pour over my competitors’ products and my own ideas. Obviously, the world doesn’t need any more tickled, giggling animals, as our waning sales have proven.
Absently, my fingers click over to the tab that is still up on Stevie’s profile. I stare at the blurred picture, trying to figure out how those hazy lines can conceal such perfect proportions. I close my eyes and lean back, groaning.
I need to calm the fuck down.
So what if Stevie Pierce turned out to be the hottest little thing I’ve seen in months? She’s my son’s nanny, or will be if things work out. No way am I going to go down that road, not like my dad did.
Besides, I have enough things to worry about. I click back to Walmart’s landing page, but that doesn’t help get my mind on track.
No, all I can reflect on is how, as I stared at Stevie too long, thinking thoughts I shouldn’t have, she appeared to be doing the same thing.
