And so I grew large with our baby, basking in the loving, approving glow of Drake. We weren’t married yet, but will be once he gets a divorce. Did I feel bad that he was leaving my mom? Well yes, but Lorena had done such a trip on us that I just wanted her out of my life, and certainly out of my daughter’s.
Because we know that the baby’s a girl, and Drake’s going to be a phenomenal Daddy. It’s ironic because I still call him “Daddy” sometimes, but he’s going to be my little girl’s Daddy for real.
THE END
BONUS CHAPTER
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Continue on to read Beg Me: Sold To My Dad’s Boss.
Beg Me
~Sold to My Dad’s Boss~
A May December Romance Novella
(Erotic Romance)
© 2016
By Cassandra Dee
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ABOUT THE BOOK
Ten days. I had to spend ten days with Mr. Jones, my dad’s boss, so that my dad could keep his job.
My dad was caught stealing from his company and Mr. Jones fired him on the spot. But that meant financial ruin for my family. We’d have no place to live, nothing to eat, and I’d have to drop out of school.
But then Mr. Jones proposed a solution. I’d spend ten days with him at his mansion and everything would be forgiven.
Except the alpha male had rules.
I had to wear his clothes.
Eat his food.
And worst of all, beg when he asked.
And I’m ashamed to say … but I desperately wanted it!
DEDICATION
For everyone who’s ever begged …
Admit it, you liked it!
CHAPTER ONE
Lindy
I struggled into my swimsuit. It was kinda obscene, I had to admit. I’ve grown a lot in the last year, horizontally mostly, and my boobs, which had been tiny before now went out to here, while my ass went out to there. Basically I was the proverbial hourglass, sassy, curvy, busting out in all places.
But I sighed. What choice did I have? It was my parents’ twentieth anniversary and I’d rushed home for the party after finals. I’d been so busy studying and trying to do well that I hadn’t had a chance to buy myself a new swimsuit. So I scrutinized myself again. Okay, well if I hiked the top up a little at the neck, and made sure the butt part stayed down, at least most of me would be covered … almost. Barring any accidents, any slippery mishaps, I’d be okay.
So I sighed again, turning away from the mirror in my childhood bedroom. Yep, the space was exactly as I’d left it last year, a blast from the past. In high school, I’d been really nerdy, studying all the time so that I could get into a good college and the room showed it. The walls were bare but I had a huge bookshelf filled with textbooks and “serious” reading like Charles Dickens and some Russian authors whose names I couldn’t pronounce, then or now. Go figure.
But despite the boring exterior, I’m still a fun girl … it’s just fun of a personal kind. Because I got a Kindle for Christmas and suddenly there was unlimited access to all sorts of naughty stories, steamy times with my hand tucked between my legs, bringing myself to heaven as I devoured the words, ate up the dirty pictures and videos. So I was the proverbial good girl with a bad side – innocent on the outside but filthy within.
But I shook myself, sighing. Right, back to business. This swimsuit. I looked kinda like a pornstar even though it was a modest black one-piece, something that was supposed to cover real acreage, totally appropriate for a family setting. The problem was me, there was so much of me now that the conservative cut was now racy, flesh jiggling this way and that, creamy and exposed. But sighing again, I gave up, tying my brown curls into a ponytail, grabbing a towel and leaving the room. I’d just have to be careful, I reminded myself, padding downstairs to the kitchen and glancing through the back window to the patio outside.
The party was already in full swing, people splashing in the pool, my dad at the grill looking jovial, chatting up a storm. It was mostly older folks, my parents’ friends, middle aged couples in their forties, wrinkled and tired.
But then I saw him. Christopher Jones was my dad’s boss at United Electric, although I think he was actually a few years younger than my dad. I’d always had a crush on him and at this moment, the big man was hauling himself out of the pool, his arms strong as he dragged that muscular torso from the water. I gasped, my breath coming fast, knees literally going weak because the man was like a god come to life, so gorgeous and dominant emerging from the water.
Rivulets of liquid sluiced off his hard muscles, his arms strained and flexed as he pulled himself to hip height, level with the pool’s edge before maneuvering himself out all the way, rising to stand on the deck. He was like a warrior come to life, his body muscled, perfectly proportioned, those broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, the thick, heavy thighs. And as if feeling my gaze on him, he turned sparkling blue eyes to me, meeting my eyes through the window, his look knowing, warm. I flushed, growing bright red, forcing myself to stay still instead of instinctively ducking out of sight. Oh my god, had he seen me, or was it just a trick of the light, a reflection of the window pane?
It was impossible to know for sure, but my inner parts tingled suddenly, wetly moist from that masculine stare. Oh god, how did Mr. Jones do this to me? There were boys at school who’d been interested but they did nothing, I’d shared a couple kisses, wet and slobbery, and a few had felt up my boobs, moaning with ecstasy as they grabbed fistfuls of breastflesh, making me squeal with pain, pull away at the manhandling.
But I knew with certainty that Mr. Jones would be completely different. Reflexively, my gaze dropped to his large, square hands, dripping with water and my mouth went dry, a fire lighting within my body. Because those hands would be so smooth, so agile on my curves, stroking me to heaven, making me come again and again, my body moist, open, begging him for more.
And oh god, that package. The big man was wearing board shorts, the kind that looked like regular shorts, coming to his knee. But even through the loose canvas material, I could see a hard edge, an outline of something massive, a promise so hard, hot and hungry that my pussy began to tingle, responding to the call of this male animal.
And as if reading my mind, Mr. Jones grinned at me through the window, winking before turning away to talk to someone, nonchalant, like nothing was wrong. I snapped back to reality. Holy shit, he had seen me, I hadn’t been imagining the eye contact, those blue eyes had read my desire, how I’d grown flushed with heat, needing him, my breasts heaving with excitement. My mind went crazy, spinning into various scenarios, imagining being with him, on him, in him, in all sorts of illicit, crazy positions.
But real life struck. I was a nineteen year old college girl whereas he was an experienced, dominant alpha male. What did I have to offer him? Chris could get any woman he wanted, any female would be happy for a few minutes alone with that hard, male body. So I snapped myself back to reality. What had felt like a slow-mo scene to me, a fantasy sequence complete with flashbacks and flash forwards, had probably been two seconds of real life at most. I’d probably imagined the whole thing, it’d been nothing but a daydream, the fantasies of an inexperienced girl. Because of course, Mr. Jones was already chatting up some middle-aged woman, a skinny blonde chick with an orange tan who looked him up and down hungrily, eyeing him lasciviously while licking her lips, hanging onto his every word, devouring him with her eyes.
And embarrassed suddenly, I turned away, head down, grabbing my towel before making my way outside, going over to sit over behind a tree, making myself inconspicuous. Mr. Jones had so many options, the world at his fingertips, women dying to meet him. And as for me? I was a teenage girl, a complete nob
ody, and absolutely, utterly out of my league.
CHAPTER TWO
Chris
I’ve known Lindy a long time now. The first time we met was when she was sixteen and she’d come to a company function. Back then she was rail-thin and mousy with huge clunky glasses, and I hadn’t paid much attention except to say hello to my employee’s family.
Because Lindy’s dad, Jim, works for United Electric. We’re a small construction outfit, doing jobs all over Long Island, both residential and commercial, and Jim was a great guy, talkative, outgoing, like a friendly golden retriever always ready to do your bidding.
But there had been some anomalies in his performance lately, some things I couldn’t overlook and I’d had to take it up with him.
“Jim-boy,” I said casually last Friday, leaning back at my desk. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened with that last job?”
Jim got really red, made all the worse by the fact that he had blonde eyebrows. He looked like a red potato with golden whiskers, fresh from the oven. I almost felt sorry for him, the dude was so uncomfortable and fidgety, but I steeled myself. I was the boss and this was business, nothing more.
And he hemmed and hawed, making excuses.
“Costs got out of control, the supplies were more expensive than we thought and you know Danny over with Kamco, he was supposed to extend us credit, but he didn’t,” the man babbled nervously.
But I shook my head slowly, the drivel running through my ears. These were just shady half-truths. Jim was our controller, he was supposed to be on top of the numbers and the problems didn’t stem from supply issues or cost overruns. It was far more serious, a rotten inner core from deep within.
So ignoring the other man’s chatter, I leaned over my keyboard, tapping a few times and pulled up a spreadsheet before turning the monitor towards my employee.
“These are the books from last month,” I said casually, “Your job is to keep on top of them, make sure they reflect United Electric’s daily revenues, our spend, our take from each job.”
The blonde man nodded miserably, so nervous that he was beginning to sweat, and I could see a shiny slick on his forehead. But I was going in for the kill and this was no time to back off.
“And this,” I said pointing to a column numbers, “is less than it should be.”
Instead of denying it, Jim just looked down, nodding, twisting his hands in his lap.
“I know, I know,” he babbled, “I’ll look at it again, I had a feeling something was wrong, the numbers didn’t square up, didn’t meet our estimates …”
I cut him off.
“This has nothing to do with estimates or projections,” I drawled smoothly. “The numbers don’t add up because you’ve been taking from the till, helping yourself to some extra, Jim-boy. Why? Why did you do it? Do I not pay you enough?”
And Jim looked about ready to burst into tears then, his chin quivering, eyes growing moist and bright.
“No, you pay me great!” he protested with a hiccup to his voice. “Thank you Mr. Jones, thank you for hiring me, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, it’s just that … that …” he mumbled.
I sat silently, expectantly. What could possibly justify stealing from your employer? Shit, I should turn this guy into the feds, this was criminal behavior.
But the tears began to spill then.
“I’m so sorry,” blubbered Jim, his nose running with trails of slime, his chin drooping with sorrow, “but my daughter’s college tuition is so expensive I needed some extra to get us through this next year, I’ll pay it back, I swear.”
I steepled my hands thoughtfully, shaking my head. Jim was disgusting, that was no justification for his actions, there was always the option of student loans, parent loans, or fuck, he could have just come to me for a personal loan. But I got it. A lot of people lied to themselves, telling themselves that they’d just “borrow” some money, they’d take it without anyone noticing, the money would be put back before anyone even realized it was gone. But that’s a bunch of jack shit. That money doesn’t ever come back, it’s gone, flown off to its next destination and the unfortunate part in this case, was that I was his boss and I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy out there.
“You’re fired,” I said abruptly. “HR will have your paperwork.”
The blonde man blubbered again, dropping to his knees before my desk and clasping his hands.
“Please Mr. Jones, no,” he begged. “I didn’t take that much, please don’t, my family needs the money, we have a mortgage, my daughter’s in college, please.”
I shook my head, turning away.
“Business is business,” I said ruthlessly. “Get out.”
But Jim was tenacious, I’ll give him that. Instead of getting to his feet and leaving my office, head down and defeated, he anted up and doubled down.
“Please!” he screamed, throwing himself at my feet. Okay, now this was getting a little dramatic, like out of a movie. Was I going to have to get security to escort him out? “I’ll give you anything you want. Just another month on the job so that I can find a new one. Please!” he wailed.
And I paused for a moment. In general, I like to cut a cancer out at its source, discard it before it festers and grows into a huge sore. But in this case, Jim had a point. I didn’t have a new controller lined up and it would take time to interview candidates and conduct a thorough search. So if I kept him on for another month, it would help with the transition, help us keep the books up until someone new stepped in. But I’d have to keep an eye on the fucker. Fuck. That fucking sucked. I was here to bring in business for United Electric, it was my job as the boss to drum up new jobs for us, to wine and dine clients so that we landed multi-million dollar contracts. So to spend my nights as a part-time accountant fucking sucked, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But against my better judgment, I agreed.
“Fine,” I said roughly. “One more month and then you’re out.”
And the man bobbed his head up and down thanking me.
“Thank you, thank you Mr. Jones,” he blabbered, eyes welling with tears of relief. “Thank you, this will give me just enough time to find a new job, and I will pay you back, I will,” he promised.
I just turned away, disgusted, shaking my head.
But the pathetic dude had the temerity to keep going.
“Is there one more thing I can ask of you?” he begged, still on his knees.
My head snapped to his, eyes blazing. What the fuck, this guy had just admitted to stealing my money, taking my shit, caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and now he wanted something more from me? Fuck, some people are unbelievable.
But before I could throw him out of my office, the guy’s face crumpled again.
“Please come to my twentieth anniversary party this weekend,” he mumbled, “It’s Linda’s and my anniversary, and I don’t want her to suspect anything. I want my wife to be happy and you know she’s been sick lately, she’s been looking forward to this party for so long. Please come so that she doesn’t think something’s wrong.”
And to my own disbelief, I agreed. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was going soft between this talk of sick wives and family events. But the damage was done.
“Fine,” I ground out, “I’ll be there.”
And with that, Jim shuffled out the door, bowing and scraping, his blonde head bobbing, the wisps of white hair comical as they waved back and forth.
“Oh thank you, thank you,” he blubbered. “You won’t regret it Mr. Jones.”
And after the door shut, I just sighed. Really, what the fuck was wrong with me? Seriously, I had money to make, a business to build, and I’d just been roped into going to a loser party, put on a happy face so that this thief could make his wife happy. Had the world gone crazy?
But I knew the real reason. I’m no Mr. Nice Guy. I’m a sick fuck, an asshole through and through and Jim-boy here had something I wanted. I hadn’t seen Lindy in a while, not for a year almost and she’d be
en captivating, young, nubile, shy but exciting. It was summer break now, she’d be at the celebration, right? And when my dick jerked, growing hard and twitching uncontrollably, I knew I’d made the right decision. Because Lindy was worth it, I wanted to set my eyes on the beautiful girl even if I was firing her dad.
CHAPTER THREE
Lindy
I lay on the lounger, sunglasses over my eyes, drifting a little. Most of the guests had gone and I was shaded by a huge tree at the edge of the pool which partially blocked the view. With my eyes closed, I reached a hand out to grab my soda, my fingers questing for the drink sightlessly as I fumbled.
Suddenly the cool bottle was pushed into my hand, firm and solid.
“Hey!” I gasped, sitting up, startled.
And oh god, but chills ran up my spine, my body going weak because Mr. Jones stood over me, his big form looming, throwing me in shadow. And he was so close, so near that I literally began to pant. His massive form was only inches away and I had a perfect view of that huge chest, the chiseled six-pack, and that package. Oh god, that package. A small trail of hair ran from his belly button downwards to his waistband, pointing down, down, down to a bulge that made my mouth go dry. I could see the strong arch, the curve underneath the fabric and my cunt started tingling, sparkling deep inside. Oh fuck, I was seriously losing it just being around this guy.
His Captive: A Revenge Marriage Romance Page 85
