“You just ripped my dress,” she countered. Minnie was submissive but she realized that she loved to challenge me so she’d misbehave if she had the chance. I raised my hand and spanked her ass harshly.
The sound echoed in our room. “You don’t talk back to me like that.”
“Sorry, Master,” she mumbled as I stood up and she locked her legs around my waist, crashing her lips on mine as I carried her to the walk-in closet. I settled her down on the floor, panting and only in her lacy underwear. Before I even opened the compartment, I ripped apart her underwear. Now she was naked and bare.
I opened the compartment and pulled out the stocks I had recently purchased. Minnie stared at them confused but I only smirked. I motioned her to come closer.
“Bend,” I commanded and she did so. I helped her up on the stocks, locking her hands and head on it and her feet with the chains that came with it. I reached and touched her clit, feeling her wetness. “You’re so wet for me, Minnie.”
“Always, Master,” she whispered and gasped when I plunged a vibrator to her clit. She screamed in pleasure. I had it turned to maximum and she was screaming and writhing in front of me. I bent down and started sucking on her tits.
She was milking again and I hungrily drank from her boobs.
Motherhood blessed Minnie, truly. Her figure became twice as amazing as the first time I met her. I always thought that becoming a mom ruined women’s figures but it made Minnie’s hips wider and her boobs bigger. And drinking from her boobs made me realize why the kids seemed to selfishly want them all for themselves.
They were amazing.
“Fuck, Master,” Minnie moaned. I roughly removed the dildo just as I knew she was about to come, moved behind her, and plunged my dick inside of her. “Master!”
I fucked her rough and hard, just how I knew she wanted it to be. She writhed under me, shivering as she rode her climax but I continued thrusting inside of her. I removed my dick from her pussy, drove my fingers into her asshole to test before driving my hard shaft inside of her ass.
“Thorn!” she screamed louder as I fucked her from behind. I reached to squeeze her boobs and leaned over, moving them slightly to the side as I leaned closer so I could drink more of her milk.
“Fuck, Thorn!” Minnie kept screaming my name over and over again as I fucked her raw and hard. “Fuck me harder!”
I slapped her ass I thrust myself inside her tight hole. Who would’ve thought that my life would still turn out this way, that life would still bring her back to me? Most of the time, I wondered what I had done right to deserve all this.
To deserve Minnie and our children.
I shot my cum inside her ass after a few more hard and rough thrusts. She came as I did so, writhing beneath me. We were spent, panting and trying to regain our breath.
I grinned at her. “So what do you think of my new purchase.”
“I’d love it more if you were the one in it,” she told me, her eyes glinting.
I laughed. She always teased me that way. But the Dom in me would never give up control. So Minnie is a sub always, although the power exchange is different. My girl has me in the palm of her hand, her wish my every command.
So my eyes trailed Minnie’s body. I pulled myself out of her and stood before her, naked and my huge dick in her full view. She giggled when she saw me, still high on our activity. “Do you want me to suck you?”
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving hers. I’d told her so many times how much I had wanted to turn the car around that night and get her, even when it was against her wishes. I’d told her how much I wanted her, needed her, and how it was more than just sex.
When Minnie walked into my office that day, something inside me just shifted. It wasn’t a dominant wanting to find a new submissive, it was a man seeing the woman that he’d spend the rest of his life with.
Minnie was everything I wanted, needed. She was more than just the pretty face that captured everyone’s attention, more than just the voluptuous body that had every guy staring. She was her bright smile, her cute laugh, the warm personality that had everyone falling in love with her too.
“Will you let me love you until I stop breathing?” I asked her, my voice soft and quiet.
Minnie looked at me and pulled her mouth off my cock. “What are you talking about?”
“Minnie, I love you.”
She nodded. “I know. I love you too.”
“Minnie,” her name rolled off my tongue with such familiarity. “I need you. I want you. I want you to be mine for the rest of my life. I want you to stay by my side to rule the empire that both of us have built. I want to take care of you. We didn’t start off the way most couples should. I was your headmaster, your dominant and you were my student and submissive. That was a relationship that started off wrong. I acknowledge that.” I reached for her face, touching her gently. “But I realized I didn’t want it to end that way. For seven hundred and thirty days I waited for the right time to get back to you and you went and threw a curveball at me, telling me about Kayla.”
I watched her laugh lightly. “You know how much I regret keeping it from you.”
“But I will never hold that against you,” I reassured her. “You wanted to build a life of your own and I let you. When we met again, despite all the luxury that I had already possessed, you still went on your own, still determined to pave your own path and I still let you.”
She looked at me, tears shining in her eyes. “Thank you for that.”
I smiled at her. “Is your life where you want it to be?”
She nodded. “I have everything I used to just dream of.”
This time, I nodded and went to where I had left my pants to take out the box that I had kept there. I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know if I should’ve booked us a fancy restaurant or surprise her with something unique.
But we started as a dominant and a submissive.
Somewhere along all the fucking and spanking, we became more than that.
I thought it’d be good to acknowledge how our relationship really started even when it wasn’t the best introduction to a great love story. I looked at her and asked her the same question I had asked earlier in the conversation. “Will you let me love you until I stop breathing?”
“I’ll let you if you’ll let me too,” she answered.
I knelt down in front of her, and then revealed the diamond ring. She gasped and looked at me, tears streaming down her face. “Will you marry me, then?”
Minnie could only nod and I stood up and released her from the stocks, locking her in a tight embrace. I could even feel my own tears stinging my eyes as I slid the ring onto her finger.
“You have no idea how happy you just made me,” I whispered to her. We pulled away from our embrace and our gazes locked in that moment. Her eyes were filled with tears and I wiped them away. “You are the best thing that happened to me. Cole and Kayla included.”
She giggled and reached up to my level and our lips locked, dancing to the slow song that our heart’s had made, molding into each other, slowly, tantalizingly, because we had the rest of our lives to memorize each other.
Till death do we part.
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Six Ways to Sin
~A Reverse Harem Romance~
© 2017
By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
SIX WAYS TO SIN: A Reverse Harem Romance
I’m a flight attendant who does more than drinks.
I work for the hottest private charter company on the East Coast.
It’s an amazing job with incredible perks.
But even more enticing are the passengers.
Because every single one is a billionaire.
Tall, dark and
handsome.
Dominating as sin.
Charming and possessive.
As for me?
Well, I’m a shy girl.
Plump and curvy, pushing the drink cart.
Except this job brings out my deepest desires.
Because there’s Damien on the Dallas flight.
Charlie on the Chicago leg.
Nick in New York.
Aaron and Andrew in Atlanta.
And Tom in Texas.
The billionaires don’t know about each other.
Or so I hope.
Because when they find out …
How many ways can you say sin?
CHAPTER ONE
Joanie
I took a big breath in and let it out in a short burst, hands on my hips, Superwoman style. My aunt once told me that it’s a power pose, that people perk up and listen when you have an air of command.
But no such luck. The pose didn’t make me feel any more confident. In fact, it made me feel weird and uncomfortable because I was interviewing for a job as a flight attendant, nervous as hell.
Being a stewardess wasn’t my first career choice, not really. But for several reasons it ended up being a good option. I just had to nail my first interview in order to get my career started. No biggie, right?
But my first appointment wasn’t going well. An older woman greeted me with a tight French twist and pruney, pursed lips. She looked me over like she was reviewing a modeling portfolio. If the lady hadn’t been sixty and female, I might have felt ogled. Well, age and gender notwithstanding, I felt pretty ogled anyways.
The woman’s eyes were sharp, not missing any details.
“Just the right size for a flight attendant,” she noted, scribbling something on my application form. That was a weird comment for sure. I mean, flight attendants can’t be super tall because of the ceiling height in commercial planes, but still. Speaking your thoughts out loud was strange.
Plus, the way her eyes sized up my figure was a little disconcerting. Again, I think there are weight restrictions for stewardesses, but with this kind of once over, I felt like a prize cow at the County Fair. Not a great feeling.
Because I’ve never been a skinny girl. With Double D breasts and ample hips, sometimes squeezing through the narrow aisles of a plane can be tough. There’s more than a little junk in the trunk back there, and half the time I was afraid I’d hit some poor passenger’s head.
But dieting doesn’t work for me. I tried that whole South Beach thing, but it was a bust. Food has always been my go to, and the more I tried to diet, the more nervous I got. The more nervous I got, the more I ate. Go figure.
But the interviewer had no idea. She looked me up and down again, eyes narrow, missing nothing. And then with a harrumph, she pronounced, “You’re hired.”
I gasped.
“Really? No-no questions for me?” came my stammer.
The lady looked down at her clipboard, reviewing my application once more.
“Everything on here is accurate, isn’t that so?” she asked. “You signed a statement certifying its validity.”
I nodded dumbly. That was true. But what interviewer doesn’t ask questions?
The woman merely nodded again, clearly impatient.
“Welcome to Elite Air,” came her clipped words. “Uniform fitting will be on Monday. Come back to the conference hall and the tailors will set you up.”
I nodded dumbly. Hey, I was gonna get a paycheck, and it seemed wise to keep my questions to a minimum. But one small one escaped my lips.
“Um, should I try to slim down?” I asked hesitantly. “For the uniform fitting? I can lose a lot in a week,” were my rushed words, although that was patently untrue. “I know the aisles on the plane must be narrow.”
The woman lowered her brows, frowning
“Absolutely not,” was her declaration. “There’s plenty of space on board, you’ll see.”
Thunderstruck, my head nodded. I thought airplanes were regulation sized. We’d practiced on a bunch of models during stewardess school, and there wasn’t a lot of room on any of the commercial aircraft.
But nodding again, I agreed.
“Okay,” came my soft voice. “Monday it is then.”
And dazed, I stepped outside onto the sidewalk, the glare on the sidewalks blinding. Who was Elite Air? Or what was it? I’d done some googling but there wasn’t much information on-line. The website said it was a private fleet catering to billionaires and famous people. Wow. Like Elon Musk or handsome George Clooney types? That sounded great.
But real life isn’t filled with George Clooneys. You’d be lucky to meet even one George Clooney in your lifetime. More likely, it was seventy year old gazillionaires who had dozens of grandchildren. That was okay. I don’t mind families at all, and kids have always made me smile. And besides, there was the paycheck. The annual salary and benefits were amazing, almost double that offered by other airlines. It’d be ridiculous to pass up this opportunity.
So the next Monday, I showed up again. And sure enough, a seamstress was on hand, taking my measurements, nodding here while pinning there. And after ten minutes, we were done. I was dressed in my first uniform, ready to fly.
But this wasn’t your regular stewardess outfit, with a dowdy cardigan and knee length skirt. Instead, it was seriously cute. Even sexy, come to think of it. The navy dress was form fitting in all the right places, with a modest décolletage that showed off my ample bust. There was an adorable matching pillbox hat, and a blue scarf with red dots to tie around my neck. The whole look was retro and jaunty and I fell in love with it immediately.
My interviewer, Helena, materialized out of nowhere, scrutinizing me in the dress. No hello, no how are you’s. Instead, she addressed her words to the seamstress.
“Perfect,” came her clipped voice. “The men will love it.”
The men?
What did that mean?
But I guess it was possible. There are certainly more male billionaires in the world than female.
And with that, I was done. Ushered into a large hangar, my breath caught. Because holy moly, the G6 was nothing like the planes we’d practiced on during stewardess school. It was sleek and aerodynamic, gleaming in the giant warehouse space.
And inside, things got even better. There was no narrow galley kitchen or cramped economy seats upholstered in polyester weave. Instead, the kitchen was full-size, complete with an oven and microwave. And there were no economy seats on this flight period. Instead, six plush chairs stood inside the cabin, upholstered in spotless white leather, creamy and inviting. If it were me, I’d be afraid to sit in them, sure I’d spill something somehow.
But that’s my job.
I’m an elite air hostess.
I don’t spill things anymore.
Not champagne, not nuts, and definitely not on the customer.
So I looked around, trying to calm my heart. But it was hard because the plane was just so luxurious. A flat screen TV rose from the floor, a bouquet of fresh flowers adding to the air of luxury. And if my eyes weren’t mistaken, there was closed door leading to a bedroom in back, complete with en suite fixtures.
Wow. Holy smokes. This was way beyond my wildest dreams. Slightly trembling, I made my way back to the front of the cabin. Ah ha, this was more like it. The staff restroom behind the cockpit was small and utilitarian, but even that was nicer than average. I thanked my lucky stars. What did I do to deserve this job? This was going to be cakewalk. All I had to do was wait on some rich people on a nice plane, rather than dealing with the masses on an aging commercial aircraft.
But there was no time to waste. Time is money in this industry, so I sprang to work, getting the warm nuts and champagne together. This was a job worth keeping, and I wanted to make a good impression my first day.
My eyes studied the manifest as the almonds warmed. Hmm, a man named Damien Dawson was our only passenger on today’s flight. My head shook with disbelief. Some people were so rich that
they took solo flights, uncaring of the cost. Incredible.
And suddenly, voices sounded below, deep and melodious. Oh no, Mr. Dawson was here. But it was okay, everything was ready. The nuts were ready in their ramekin, the bubbly poured. My belly rumbled a little with nerves, but I slapped a professional smile onto my lips. Appearances mean everything when you’re flying elite.
And suddenly, he appeared. My breath caught because all the air exited the small plane, my lungs squeezed for oxygen. Unbelievably, Damien Dawson was better looking that George Clooney. Tall. Huge. With a head of perfect black hair and crystal blue eyes. The kind of eyes that could make a girl forget how to use real words, which unfortunately, was happening to me now.
But something made it out of my throat, even if I sounded like a strangled frog.
“Welcome aboard,” came my words. “Welcome, Mr. Dawson. I’m Joanie. I’ll be your flight attendant today.”
The man didn’t appear to hear. Well, he did, but only with the slightest nod my way. No matter. I’d been warned that our clientele consisted of the powerful businessmen, and they were busy guys. Mr. Dawson was probably busy thinking of his next acquisition, or his next takeover and not some meek, shy flight attendant.
No problem. They were handling billions of dollars, whereas my greatest worry was if the nuts were the right temperature. There was no need to be offended if they ignored me.
After all, a job is a job.
As the billionaire fastened his seatbelt, I stepped forwards carrying the almonds and a glass of champagne. The man declined them both with a wave of his hand and a strange gleam in those blue eyes.
“Can I get you a newspaper then?” I asked sweetly, smiling my best smile.
“No,” came that terse word.
Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.
“Okay,” I replied graciously. “I’ll check back in as soon as we get to cruising altitude.”
Taken by the Dom Page 21
