Filthy Daddy

by Bella Love-Wins

  Then I pull it away.

  “You wicked bastard,” she cries out, but I see the hint of relief on her face.

  “Is that any way to ask me to put it back?”

  She nods frantically, so much that some of her hair flies over her face.

  “Tell me what I want. Maybe you’ll get it. Simple.”

  She frowns, letting out an exasperated sigh. The woman’s always been stubborn. I send her another message instead of wasting precious seconds to argue my point. Placing the vibrator back on her mound, I let her have a few more seconds of pleasure, and as her eyes close again, I move the toy away yet another time. She’s no closer to her climax, even though my entire body aches to watch her become completely undone.

  “Fuck. You.” She grinds out the words through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah. I get it. That’s what you want me to do. But I won’t give it to you until I hear it. Say it.”

  “Fine,” she cries, trying in vain to inch closer to the pulse of the vibrator as I hold it mere inches from her slick flesh. “I need you, Tate. Do whatever the hell you want with me, just please let me come.”

  Satisfied, I hold back the laughter threatening to erupt from my lips at the mix of longing and hostility in her sexy light blue eyes. They’re almost blue-gray, matching her heightened need. I have no doubt that once I give her what she wants and have my way with her, she’ll want to kick my ass from here to next Tuesday for this extreme deviation from our play.

  Or she’ll get over it.

  She should know that today is different.

  I drop to my knees and undo the ankle bindings, then rotate her bar stool so that she’s facing the kitchen island. My rigid cock throbs. A trickle of precum is at the tip as I shove my jeans down to my ankles. Picking her up at the waist, I bend her over the counter. Molly’s out of her element now, unbound and desperate. We both are. She lets out a little cry, trembling beneath my touch. I love how eager she is. Neither of us could’ve known we’d both become this frantic and impatient, determined after such a reversal of our usual sex games. This is exactly how I needed to see her after what she’s gone through.

  Damn straight, she fucking needs me.

  She’d better not forget it.

  Unable to hold back a second longer, I grip her hips, lower my head to her back, and bury my cock deep into the warmth of her slick pussy until I can’t go any further. She shudders against me and pushed her ass back for more contact. I deliver punishing strokes into her, and she cries out my name, begging me to fuck her harder. I pump my hips, sinking into her, moving with sharper jerks at each forward and backward movement as if this is my last fuck of my life.

  Molly whimpers and begs, continuing to keen backward into my groin. She’s on her tiptoes, rocking and spreading herself for more. If I pound her any harder she probably won’t walk for a week, but still, she keeps asking for me to go deeper, and keeps pressing back against my hard thrusts into her. I brace myself against the island with one hand, and the other moves across her breasts. I tweak on her nipple while I white knuckle the counter with my forceful grip to anchor us.

  While she bucks, shakes, and heaves with pleasure under me, I fight back the insistent urge to tell her that she’s all mine. To claim her. Fuck, there’s no way I can do this to her now. This’s not our deal. We’re supposed to keep things casual, yet here I am, inside her without protection, with my mind full of ridiculous thoughts of fucking up the good thing we have. Taking things to another level is a bad idea. More reckless than fucking her bareback. Neither of us signed up for more. I push back my crazy thoughts and refocus on the smooth flesh of her breast beneath my grip.

  I know she’s about to come when her pussy tightens and ripples, wrenching around my length, gripping my cock like one of her hand jobs. Her hands reach back, searching for any part of my legs, ass or hips to grip onto.

  “Cum for me,” I order her as her small moans ascend to a higher pitch.

  Shaking and weak in the knees, Molly hits her climax with a force that shudders through every part of her body. The edge in her voice changes again as she calls out my name, summoning me to follow after her. I’ve held back for so much time that I don’t hold back. I come hard, emptying my seed deep in her womb.

  As we lean on the kitchen counter, catching our breaths, one thought remains. One word.

  More.

  Not only for a repeat of all this erotic play and smoldering hot fuck sessions, but also for time with her. Really with her. But I tamp down that wish, brushing it from my mind, erasing it from my psyche. My past has taught me that wanting for a thing is the surefire way to see it slip from my grasp.

  I’m still buried deep inside of her when the sound of keys jangling a distance away gets my attention.

  Shit. No fucking way.

  “Someone’s coming.”

  “What?” she breathes out distractedly.

  “The front door. Someone’s unlocking it.” I swear under my breath and pull out of her, scrambling to gather up the nearby pieces of our clothes. “Get dressed. Your mom’s home.”

  She huffs out a breath. No doubt she’s as wound up as I am, even if she came once already. I know her body and it’s just getting started. But it’s too late for round two. Dragging her tank top back over her shoulders, she wiggles into her jeans and stuffs her panties into one of the pockets. I don’t know why Molly is in such a panic. I’m the guy with the beginnings of another erection straining against my pants, standing in her mother’s kitchen looking guilty as sin and horny as hell. And now I have to greet the woman. What a fucking mess.

  I’m straightening Molly’s tag on the back of her shirt when the conservative, blonde woman in her mid-fifties walks into the room lugging a bunch of grocery bags. Only then do I take a second to look around at the whole scene in the kitchen.

  We haven’t put away a damn thing from our role-play. None of the toys are hidden, and the silk ropes are still hanging off the legs of the bar stool. Then the vibrator rolls off the kitchen counter, buzzing as it skips across the floor. How fucking inconvenient. Molly and I both make a grab for it at the same time and end up hitting our heads together. I curse like a sailor from the pain, forgetting for a split second that Molly’s mother has probably never heard that much profanity in one sentence before. The whole situation feels like I’m back in my teens.

  “Oh, hey Mom. Sorry about the mess,” Molly says a little too loudly, her hand still rubbing the spot where her head hit mine.

  “Hi, you two. How are you doing, Tate?”

  “Great, Mrs. Davenport. Just great.”

  “I didn’t expect you to get home this early,” Molly tells her. “Did something happen at work?”

  “No, everything’s fine. I got this great recipe from Doris and couldn’t wait to get in and try it.”

  She looks around the kitchen and takes in the kinky chaos. It can’t be easy for her watching the state of her counters. It’s not actually dirty, but I imagine that if she pictures what might’ve gone on in here before she showed up, she must be thinking there’s not a spot we’ve left untouched. Still, the older woman just looks around with a straight face. Eventually, she swallows hard, her arms weighted down by bags of groceries that I’m sure she prefers to keep in the bag, given all the toys and gadgets strewed around. But what can I say? To me, there’s no shame in what Molly and I have been doing. I just wish it wasn’t in the woman’s kitchen. I press my lips together and wait for her to finish up her inspection.

  “Having a little fun, I see,” she says in Molly’s direction. “I hope you two are playing it safe… within the friendship, I mean.”

  Molly doesn’t reply. Neither do I, as it’s not my place. What I should be doing is leaving, but that’s not an option. I’m on the job. I rub a hand over my mouth. Mrs. Davenport finally sets down her bags next to the bundle of extra silk ropes that are a few feet away from the riding crop.

  Not too subtle.

  Christ, if I had any idea that we were
n’t going to be alone, I’d never have gotten this comfortable here in the kitchen, of all places. All the other times we fucked at her house before now, no one was ever around, and we stuck to Molly’s bedroom.

  “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” I tell the woman, refraining from showing my hands mainly because I don’t know what’s on them. “Molly, I’ll just wait in the living room. After I use the bathroom. Or I can leave.”

  But as soon as I say the last sentence, Molly shakes her head. I’m reminded that the only way I’m leaving is with her at my side after she’s packed a bag.

  Something about getting interrupted by a chick’s middle-aged mother has understandably knocked me way off my game, but it’ll pass. Eventually.

  Chapter 5

  Molly

  It probably would’ve been a good idea to have Tate carry me to my room earlier.

  Too late for that.

  I try to stem the arousal that’s still pulsing through my whole body. Taking a deep breath doesn’t help. My core is reliving the sensation of Tate’s cock drilling into me, buried so deep that it felt like he was a part of me.

  And we’re now stuck in this awkwardness with my mother.

  Mom will see right through anything I say, so I let go of the embarrassment. I almost want to laugh. Tate is scrambling for the right words. He can’t think quickly enough to come up with even a lame excuse for what my mother is witnessing around her kitchen. But her coming home early and finding us like this, well it’s minor. I’m more concerned about her reaction when I let her know that for her safety and mine, I won’t be staying at home for the next little while. She doesn’t know how far my ex took things last night, and I don’t want to worry her.

  “I have to skip out on dinner, Mom. Tate is driving me to work in a bit.”

  “All right, honey.”

  I want to choose my words carefully, but with my mother, I’m better off just telling her straight. “And I’ll be staying with him for a bit while we figure out things with—”

  “With your crazy stalker ex-boyfriend?” she asks, finishing my sentence.

  “Right. And what’s even better about it is my staying with Tate will save me some travel time while I get organized and study for my nursing exams,” I add, hoping to direct the subject to a more favourable outcome. My mother’s been a nurse for as long as I can remember. She understands how these things go and what I have ahead of me to complete the national nursing exam and also satisfy state licensing requirements to practice nursing in both Nevada and Arizona.

  “You don’t have to sweeten the pot to get me to agree, love. It’s fine. Whatever Tate’s firm recommends is all right with me. If he believes that staying somewhere else will help keep that guy away from you, I’m on board.”

  “Thanks for understanding,” I say, somewhat surprised but mostly relieved that she’s come to the same conclusion, or at least, accepts my decision to lay low with Tate for a while.

  “You know, I told you we should’ve filed a restraining order before we moved out here. I never liked that boy.”

  “You’re probably right,” I concede. My lips press tightly together, glancing over at Tate as I wait to hear the rest.

  There has to be more. I doubt the woman is prepared to let either of us leave her house without a safe sex lecture, given the state of her kitchen. Tate sports a strange look of utter embarrassment. I’ve never seen him this way. Clearly, he has no clue how to win over a woman’s mother. I mentally roll my eyes, unsure why I’d expect anything more from a badass biker who hangs around old-school types. Men who like to believe casual Fridays at the office means they can screw four women at the same time, rather than dress down.

  If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he feels that way too.

  But I know Tate.

  We’ve been more to each other than either of us cares to admit.

  “And is there more that you’d like to tell your own mother?”

  “About what?” I ask, feigning ignorance, but this is the other shoe dropping.

  “Have you forgotten that I know you, young lady?”

  I snap back into the picture as Mom covers the sides of her face with each hand now that her shopping bags are on the counter—next to the sex toys. Heat rises up my cheeks. There’s no fixing this giant kinky mess.

  “I’m really sorry?” I say in a question. That’s all I come up with.

  “Back to what I was saying to your friend over here, Molly. I’m not deaf, dumb, and blind, and I’m not as innocent as I look. You don’t have to pretend with me, okay? You’re an adult. Do what you want, just not on my brand new granite counters. And regarding this announcement about leaving for a few days… please promise me that you’ll be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “And give me a call if you’re going to be longer than a week so that I don’t worry. This place feels big and lonely without you, dear.”

  “Definitely. Of course, I’ll check in.”

  “I’ll leave you two to do whatever needs doing to put my kitchen back in order…after I step out of it so you can take your time, yes?”

  “We will,” Tate answers and starts toward the pile of naughty gear.

  I wish I knew what happened to my biker badass. My mother arches a brow, giving me a look that says everything without a word from her perfectly made-up mouth. I’m so going to hear about this over the phone later.

  “Yes, Mom. We’ll take care of everything, then we’ll get out of your hair.”

  “And Molly, darling?”

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “You can find the industrial cleaning supplies that the maids use under that counter.” With a wink, Mom heads toward the hallway and disappears around the corner.

  Tate and I make quick work of tidying up the room. He’s pretty helpful, considering that most of the live-in MC sack demon groupies keep the clubhouse clean so the big boys won’t have to lift a finger most of the time. He starts to scrub the already clean sink with a sponge. I almost stop him but don’t. If he wants to leave the place spotless, including places we haven’t touched, he can have at it.

  “I’m surprised you’re okay with staying at the clubhouse until we take care of your stalker problem,” Tate mentions over his shoulder while he scrubs the counter.

  “I figured that would be your first suggestion. That’s why I resigned myself to roll with it.”

  “Good.” His lips form a thin line. I know he doesn’t like being pegged as predictable. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Tate adjusts his cock in his pants. Poor guy. I silently promise myself I’ll fix it later.

  After a few minutes, I survey the kitchen. It’s back to how we found it. “Thanks for helping me tidy up. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

  He shrugs. “It’s cool. We both shocked the shit out of your mother. I don’t mind paying the price of admission.” Tucking the rags away in the bottom cupboard, he turns to me and crosses his arms. “We’ve got to leave now. Pack whatever you need. I want your pretty ass out the door ASAP.”

  “Sure. I have to work tonight too.”

  I don’t say more because even though Mom’s somewhere else in the house, I don’t need her finding out more. She still thinks I’m a night shift waitress when in fact, I’m not. I couldn’t exactly tell her I started moonlighting as a medic for a women’s underground boxing club, in between fighting at the very same club. The money I make for stepping into the ring is good, and medic duty allows me to polish up basic skills since finishing my nursing degree back in Louisiana.

  All the practice I get working this gig is helping me prepare for the national exam. If I’m successful, I can apply for Utah, Nevada and Arizona state licenses right away. Living around here, with Las Vegas, Nevada to the southwest and St. George, Utah to the northeast, there’s no way to know where I’ll find my first real RN job. Having all three state licenses gives me the best options, so doing these underground gigs are just a means to an end, the cash to study by day so I ca
n prepare and pay for all three. But I can only imagine the hell I’d get from my mother if she ever learns that I spend any time at all in places where women beat each other to a pulp for cash.

  “No problem,” Tate agrees but won’t look straight at me. We’ve barely made eye contact since my mother came home. I can’t blame him, really, when I’ve never let them in the same room more than a handful of times. We’re supposed to be fuck buddies and nothing more.

  “Give me a minute to get ready.”

  “Take your time. I want to take another look around here and see what kind of video surveillance might work. Your mom’s cool with that, right?”

  “I think so.”

  Tate’s brows rise. He looks toward the hallway Mom took as she left. “I’m not saying that she’s in any danger, but with a guy like that, the fact that he’s willing to forcibly break into her house to see you, it’s not encouraging. She shouldn’t take any chances.”

  “Sure. Mom won’t mind you poking around because she knows what’s going on. She’s the one who paid for your gig.”

  “Does she know about the damage to the side door? Or that he put his hand on you?”

  “Well, no. I didn’t want to stress her out.”

  “So, hiding shit is a thing for you.”

  “Don’t start. She’d freak out if she knew that part. Look, do whatever you think is best. You’re the expert. I’ll get these put away and pack up a few things. You can tell her the kitchen’s back to normal if you bump into her while you’re looking around.”

  Snatching up the pile of sex toys, I hurry up to my bedroom. I dump everything on my bed and take a deep breath as I grab my travel bag. On top of getting caught with Tate in the kitchen, the irony of spending more time with him so I can hide out from my ex isn’t lost on me. Shaking my head, I smile and begin to fill my bag with the essentials from my closet and dresser drawer.

  Someone knocks on my partially open door less than ten minutes later. As I turn, I’m surprised to see both my mother and Tate standing in the open doorway.