Naughty Nanny Series- Accidentally in Love

by Blue, RaeLynn

  “I want you! Now!” she croaked, her nails trailing down his muscular back. Her

  breathing, labored and harsh, slowed, but Ichigo’s breath, a teasing warmth against her

  nipples, set her fire ablaze once more.

  “Aw, yes!” he voice smoky with lust, throwing his head back in pleasure.

  “Damn, Char, see what you do to me?”

  He inched in a little more, slowly, stuffing her. Stars burst behind her closed eyes

  and with every stroke they multiplied. He pumped her with languid, corkscrew thrusts,

  and he ruthlessly refused to listen to her pleas. The walls of her pussy clenched his

  massive manhood greedily. He rammed into her seeping hole without stopping, using

  his great upper body strength to support his torso as his hips plunged into her core

  again and again. His thrusts became urgent, so rapid his balls smacked against her ass. He bent down and placed scores of kisses down her collarbone and up the

  sensitive side of her neck. A prickling heat rushed over her then, her inner walls

  clenching against him, squeezing his cock for more, and the dizzying glimpse of a

  release teasingly hovered along the edge of her grasp.

  “Ichigo, please…” her perspiration beading along her forehead and slipping

  down her face. Above her, her angel seemed to float, his hair, damp from his efforts,

  brushed her face against her spiked nipples like a series of feathers.

  “Look at me, Char,” he ordered, his eyes dark liquid heat.

  She met his stare and held it.

  “Come.”

  And with that he pounded into her with abandon until her orgasm unfurled,

  strumming through like a locomotive and smashing all sense of time, place, and

  purpose beyond him.

  “Yeah! Like that!” he bit out and shoved a few times more before his muscles

  stiffened and his own release tore through him. He slid out of her, allowing his hot seed

  to squirt over her taunt belly, his fist pumping out his desire as if it burned him.

  “Char!”

  Spent, he lay beside her on the cool tile floor, the aroma of sex and sweat

  mingled. He got up and went to the sink. She heard water running, and then he reclined

  beside her once more. The warmth of a cloth made her jump, and she laughed.

  “Too cold?” he asked, his body glistened against the kitchen’s lights.

  “No, no, that’s just right,” she whimpered, too exhausted to say more.

  Chapter Eight

  From his recliner, Ichigo watched Charlotte sleep on the sofa, his grandmother’s

  blanket covering her now clothed body. He’d insisted she sleep in his bed, but she

  argued that Kanon shouldn’t discover her nanny in bed with her father. His wanton

  desire flamed alive every time he looked at her. He could still taste her on his tongue,

  and despite showering and brushing his teeth, he still smelled her on his skin.

  His alarm had gone off at seven, and any minute now Kanon would be bouncing

  down the stairs, searching for him. They’d have waffles and the like, maybe even go to

  the park today, or over to the Greensboro Children’s Museum. Fridays he spent extra

  time with Kanon. He got up early with her every morning, surviving on a little less than

  six hours of sleep a night. He wanted to spend time with her, and her sleep schedule

  didn’t exactly match his. It didn’t matter. She did.

  He smiled at the beauty on his sofa. Snores drifted up from her and he couldn’t

  stop the flurry of emotions inside him. Not since Sybil left him had he wanted to be

  something more than just a father. As a paramedic, he saw scores of people everyday

  who failed to live each day to the fullest. It never occurred to him that until he met

  Charlotte, he’d been doing the same thing. Oh, he knew inside, deep inside that parts of

  him had been broken and left to mend awkwardly on their own. No one had set those

  breaks properly, and he’d suffered. Healing over the broken, misshapen pieces of his

  heart again and again, until he’d given up on living. The anguish of having his heart

  broken and reformed stole his willpower. Now, she’d come.

  Charlotte.

  Would she be queen of his heart? Hell, she already ruled his emotions, as she’d

  proven in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. Not that he’d ever thought he’d

  make love to a woman on the kitchen floor, well, at least not the first time, but he

  couldn’t withstand her heat. He’d envision taking her amongst the clean, navy sheets of

  his bed, or sprawled together in his Jacuzzi tub, but on the floor? Never. But he had.

  And now, he worried, gnawing on his bottom lip in anticipation. Would she wake up

  and bolt? Would she pretend it didn’t happen? Would she act like she wanted to move

  in?

  He pushed off the recliner and began to pace. What would he do if any, or hell,

  all of those situations happened?

  He had no idea.

  “Daddy?” questioned the tiny voice of his daughter. It echoed through to the

  den. The spike of fear trembled through that one single word.

  He left the room and headed to the stairs where Kanon, still rubbing her eyes

  and wearing her purple hearts pjs stood at the top. Her favorite doll clutched in a one

  arm choke hold.

  “Here,” he called back.

  Once she saw his face, it relaxed into pure relief and happiness. He headed up

  the stairs to her and once he reached the top, scooped her up into a tight bear hug. Her

  pigtails had unraveled in her sleep and the ribbons had disappeared, probably into the folds of her comforter. She had an unnatural fear of being abandoned, courtesy of her

  mother, which was part of the reason why Kanon didn’t trust nannies or anyone right

  off the bat. The fact that she’d warmed to Charlotte spoke to the woman’s gentle nature.

  “Daddy!” she squealed, hugging tight with her little hands. “I had the bestest

  dream…”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me.”

  And she proceeded to tell him about being a princess, dragons, and of princes,

  kings, queens, and lands far, far away. She stood on the stool and he got her toothbrush

  ready. Using the kiddie mirror on the counter, she brushed her teeth.

  “Don’t skim on the back teeth.”

  “Or those in the front,” came the sleepy voice of his queen.

  He glanced over his shoulder to see Charlotte leaning against the doorway.

  “Hi, Charlotte!” Kanon cried with a mouth filled with toothpaste.

  “Rinse,” Ichigo said, smiling. Turning to Charlotte, he said, “Morning.”

  He wanted to make it sound neutral, but it blew out with so much heat, he

  thought she’d slap him for being lewd. He sounded like he’d just had mind-blowing sex

  with her last night, well, this morning. It didn’t matter what he wanted, because she

  had that thing, that magic that made him act stupid in front of her.

  A wry smile tugged the sides of her mouth, and she said, “Morning.”

  “Daddy, all clean!” Kanon popped out and burst through the doorway, pushing

  past Charlotte. “Pancakes!” “Yeah, it’s time for pancakes,” he said, grinning after his daughter. “You want to

  stay for some?”

  “No, uh, I better be getting on home,” she said, avoiding his eyes. She smoothed

  her hands down her sweater and jeans. “I, uh, have to be back in a few hours. I’ve got

  errands to run, and stuff.”

  An uneasy f
eeling made his stomach hurt.

  “I see.”

  “So, uh, catch you later,” she stammered, and slipped out of the doorway.

  He wanted to yank her back and kiss her hard on the mouth, but that probably

  wasn’t the wisest thing to do. She hurried down the stairs and disappeared into the

  other parts of the house. Following her lead, he too hurried down the stairs and into the

  foyer where he found her, digging in her copious purse for her car keys.

  “Char, listen, about last night,” he began, reaching for her. He couldn’t help it.

  “Don’t.” She held up her hand to silence him. “It happened. It’s over.”

  “You don’t believe that?” disbelief evident in his tone. “It doesn’t have to be that

  way.”

  “It does,” she said, eyes turning hard, albeit shiny with tears. “I work for you.”

  “You do, but come on,” he said, reaching for her again. She shuffled out of his

  grasp. The blare of the sing-along of current pop tunes drifted down the hall. Kanon’s

  sweet voice slipped through the music. “We had something last night.”

  “We did. Sex. We had sex. That’s it. Period.”

  “It was more than that. Don’t lie to yourself.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped back. “I, I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Char, don’t do this to us,” he said, his gut churning. “Let’s sit down, feed Kanon

  and talk about this like adults.”

  “Oh, so I’m not behaving like an adult. You’re my boss, Ichigo…”

  The doorbell sang, interrupting them.

  “Who the hell is this at eight in the morning?” he barked, angry with her, angry

  that she’d let something come between them. “Who is it?” he demanded to the door.

  “Officer Perez for Mr. Ichigo Isamu.”

  An officer? What now?

  He snatched open the door and glared. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Isamu?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve been served,” the officer said, gave him a frosty smile and strolled back

  down the flat slate sidewalk.

  Ichigo looked at the thick, brown envelope and hastily shut the door. Served? By

  whom, and for what? He hadn’t done anything, but his heart thundered in his chest.

  Only one person would send him papers and the sense of déjà vu swept over him.

  Sybil.

  He shoved the envelope under his arm and put his attention back on Char.

  She eyed the thick envelope as if it were a mean ass snake.

  “Like I was saying,” he said, clearing his throat, “I want to talk about it. I like

  you.” “You liked what we did, but what male with a penis doesn’t?” she snapped, still

  simmering. “Even gay men like sex. We don’t have anything, and while I admit I

  crossed the line, I’m retreating back to my side. Get it?”

  “I got it, but you obviously don’t,” he said, leaning into her personal space. “I’m

  not going to let you run from this. Or me. Or us.”

  “Are you threatening me? Like, do I need to get a lawyer? Or maybe I should just

  quit,” her mauve-tinted lips hitched up in a cold smile that faded before it ever reached

  her eyes. She didn’t believe any of the tough talk she pushed outward at him. Maybe

  she just needed time.

  “I promise you,” he uttered, his own temper flaring, “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Am I?” she asked, jutting her chin toward the package under his arm.

  “Obviously, you’ve pissed off someone. I’m just getting in line.”

  What should he say to that? Nothing. So he ignored it. “Fine, Char. You’re angry

  at me, but you’re really angry at yourself. About what? I dunno, but when you’re ready,

  baby, I’ll be here.”

  “I’m not your baby,” she spat.

  “Yet.”

  Before she could slap him with a sharp retort, Kanon ran full out down the

  hallway, and tugged at the hand not holding the envelope.

  “Come see this! You gotta see!” she demanded, her heart-shaped face scrunched

  up in sheer determination. He laughed, the anger rolling out of him. He glanced at Charlotte and said, “See

  you at five.”

  With that, he turned and allowed Kanon to guide him down to the living room

  where the latest episode of Dora, The Explorer had taken the place of the pop music sing

  along. She rattled on about Boots, and the stars, and the lost soccer ball. He nodded and

  kissed her, asking questions about the program and engaging her before he went to

  cook breakfast.

  The kitchen made him stop. The overhead lights flooded the u-shaped space, but

  Charlotte’s scent and the memory of her pressed against him dominated the room. He

  passed the stove and the pot still full of water from the eggs he cooked this morning.

  His abandoned coffee sat at room temperature and sullen, like his feelings right now.

  He hadn’t cleaned up once they finished making love. He couls barely function, getting

  her to the sofa and then himself up to the bed, let alone put anything away. It had been

  many nights since he’d made love to anyone, and Charlotte tore through him like a

  hurricane.

  He slapped the envelope on the kitchen island and set about feeding his

  daughter. He’d lost his appetite the minute Charlotte told him she had to go. He didn’t

  know her well, but he couldn’t deny what they shared and how damn strong it was. He

  didn’t believe in love at first sight. Still, he too refused to believe what they both felt—

  and he knew she’d felt it too. She could avoid it, step around it, but it was there, coiled

  beneath the soft flush across her cheeks, the way her nipples beaded beneath her sweater this morning. Oh yeah, Charlotte felt that tug between them, just like he did.

  Nanny or not, he meant to have her and he would.

  He poured the pancake mix into the bowl and added water, whisking the two

  together. Daydreams engulfed him, and he remembered the swell of her hip, the sweet

  smell of her pussy as he licked and nibbled her clit.

  Charlotte could deny it verbally all she wanted, but inside her heart understood

  its mate, almost at once. It sounded so damn corny. And he’d never believed in any of

  that horoscope shit, but now, now he had to have her and he believed, damn the gods

  he believed.

  Moving to the stove, he set the bowl and whisk down. He took the skillet and

  sprayed it with oil, fired up the gas and watched the white-blue flames lick the skillet’s

  bottom. He’d do that to Charlotte, lick her luscious ass. It wasn’t flat like the bottom of

  this pan, but he’d be just as fevered and greedy when kissing and tonguing her ass, and

  he meant to. He meant to do so much to her and for her, because, well, he was meant to

  be with her.

  He only had to convince her of it.

  That would be as easy as pancakes.

  Chapter Nine

  Charlotte sat perched on the edge of her condo’s patio chair. She stared up at the

  stars, searching for answers that she knew resided closer to home. For as long as she

  could remember, she’d longed for something more from life, something more than the

  day-to-day grind of work and the occasionally, and sometimes superficial, outings with

  her girlfriends. When she lost her job, everything went sideways, including three

  quarters of her friends.

  She stared up at the twinkle of stars, far away from earth, billions of miles, butr />
  their light, for some of them their last light, only reached the planet now. She hugged

  her knees to her chest. That had been her, a star, dying after years of trying to shine

  amongst a sea of cold darkness. Her light only just reaching the full bodied man, Ichigo,

  and he wanted to hang on to it. He’d said as much earlier today.

  “Damn him!” she spat, wrapping her fingers around her zinfandel.

  He’d been so right. Every slightly accented word had been spot on and she hated

  it.

  He acted so tough, like a hard piece of butterscotch, but inside, a surprise of

  warmth and a gooey sweetness she found difficult to resist. The time inched toward

  nine o’clock. She’d called Ichigo earlier and told him she’d be late, and he said fine. He

  didn’t sound upset or even surprised that she’d begged off coming to work. She fully expected him to fire her, but he didn’t, telling her he understood she needed time to

  collect her thoughts.

  She sipped the wine and shuddered at the bittersweet liquid. Damn it, she

  missed him.

  Her grip on the wineglass tightened, but she refused to set it down. No way

  would she go back to him in this condition. Her puffy eyes burned, but she couldn’t

  wipe them anymore. She’d cried herself to sleep when she got home. She almost went

  for the remaining Vicodin, but stopped herself when she caught her harried and tear

  stained face in the mirror. She was better than that.

  So she slept with her boss. People did it all the time. And it wasn’t like he was an

  ogre or anything. She took a deep, steadying breath and then released it. She didn’t

  know why she behaved like a fusspot today.

  Yeah she did. Lying to herself didn’t get her anywhere. Truth be told, she didn’t

  want to see his rejection in his almond shaped eyes. An Indian summer heat bowled

  over her as she thought about him—

  that soft smile, but stubborn chin, thick corded muscles and broad shoulders, and that

  tapered waist that allowed her to lock her legs around it.

  Damn he was fine. This morning had been a true battle not to snatch him and

  screw the hell out of him. With his hair loose, he looked like a dream. It brushed his

  shoulders, caressing them, like she wanted her hands to do. He conjured up erotic tales

  and a helluva lot of fantasies, and then once she had a taste, she only craved more.