by Tia Wylder
“Oh hush,” she gasped, throwing her head back as he traced his tongue along her entrance. “Oh god, don’t stop,” she said in shuddering tones, bucking her hips up with every stroke of his tongue. He didn’t seem to intend on stopping anytime soon, pinning her hips to keep her from squirming too much. She growled gutturally, trailing off into a half-sob as he reached up to press a finger into her.
“You’re so tight…,” he gritted out, his voice strained.
“I can think of a way of fixing that,” she said almost demandingly. He met her gaze, chuckling in amusement as he worked a finger in and out of her. She drew her lip between her teeth, spreading her thighs as wide as she could in a lewd show. He took this as a cue to slip a second finger inside of her, working the two invading digits at a leisurely pace.
“We can’t go from zero to sixty without a little preparation,” he murmured, caressing the tiny nub at the apex of her womanhood with the pad of his thumb. She grabbed a pillow, muffling her cries into it before sinking her teeth into the fabric. “Wow, you’re a sensitive one, aren’t you?” Mark mused, continuing to swipe his thumb in a circular motion around her clit. She clenched around him, feeling as if she were teetering on the edge of some cliff, struggling to keep her footing while resisting the desire to take the plunge. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he drew his hand away and rested back to observe his handiwork.
“What’d you stop for?” She hissed, mouth hanging agape as he kissed his way back up her body, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.
“Well, I had a feeling you were ready for the main event,” he grinned. He shrugged his shirt off, and she nearly flew out of the bed, lurching upright. She pressed her palms to his muscular pecs, dragging her fingertips along the skin of his abdomen. He raised up, guiding her hands to the button of his slacks. She hesitated, nervously fiddling with it for a moment. Then, she steeled herself and unbuttoned his pants, shifting them down on his hips. All that separated their bare skin from touching was the thin layer of his briefs, and she was both nervous and eager to get him out of them. “Last chance to back out,” he said huskily, lacing his fingers with hers and bringing her hand closer to palm his clothed manhood. He sighed as she took the initiative, slipping the waistband of his briefs under his package. His manhood sprung free, bobbing slightly in the warm air of Mark’s bedroom. Jasmine’s eyes widened at the size of it, hands clenching just short of touching him before drawing back once again.
“I’m scared I’m going to hurt you,” she said nervously, and he laughed huskily.
“You won’t hurt me. Just the opposite” he assured her. She nodded, reaching out a quaking hand to grip him. As her fingers wrapped around him, she could feel his pulse throbbing against her palm. She gasped, experimentally running her hand along his length. “We can stop if you want, or you can just--,” he cut himself off as she pushed him onto his back. She shifted on top of him, grinning down at him as he struggled to keep his composure.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, looking to him for permission. He seemed rather baffled that she thought she needed to ask, but he nodded slowly, allowing her to shift her hips just above the head of his length. She braced herself, meeting his gaze and holding it as he slid inside her. Her mouth parted, her eyes squeezing shut in what seemed simultaneous pleasure and pain. She had never imagined the sensations feeling quite like they did at that moment, but she wouldn’t have traded the feeling for anything in the world. She wouldn’t have changed the person she was with for a million dollars, either. “I’ve never felt like this about someone before,” she admitted, watching his expression as she shifted back onto her knees. He looked briefly remorseful, gripping her hips and guiding her up and down on his length. She couldn’t help feeling as if he looked remarkably troubled considering what they were doing, but she remained silent, focusing on her pleasure.
“I care a lot about you too, Jasmine,” he said quietly. She grunted in response, clenching her inner muscles around his length as she felt herself nearing her peak. She gasped for breath, all but panting as the sensations built up inside her. Mark’s jaw was clenched, and he repeatedly gasped her name each time their hips met. When it seemed she could take no more, he grabbed her and slammed into her, hilting himself fully inside. He groaned, spilling his seed deep within her as she spasmodically clenched and unclenched around him. She met his lips in a kiss, desperately trying to convey the pure emotion she felt at that moment. He returned the embrace eagerly, both drawing nearer to each other as they basked in the afterglow.
“Oh, Mark. Oh, I… I… Thank you. Thank you so much,” she whispered, peppering kisses all across his face. He smiled uncertainly, pressing their lips together in a final kiss to seal the deal.
“Thank you, Jasmine. You were wonderful,” he said gently. She slumped on top of him, burying her face in his shoulder as she tried to steady her breathing.
“I… I’ve never felt so complete. So whole…,” she trailed off, kissing his bare shoulder. He stiffened beneath her, and she drew away to meet his gaze. He looked troubled once again, and she was nearly overcome by the thought that she must have done something wrong. He averted his eyes, clearly not wanting to talk about whatever was on his mind. Jasmine was reluctant to let it go, however, gently resting her hand on his cheek and forcing him to look at her. “Did I do something wrong, Mark? You look… unhappy. Was I not good?” She stammered, afraid of what his answer would be. His eyes widened, and he leaned in to press a swift kiss to her creased brow.
“No, no. It’s nothing like that. You were… all I could have asked for, and then some,” he assured her. She pouted, rolling off of him and settling at his side.
“Then… what’s wrong?” She implored. He hesitated, staring intently at the ceiling as if meeting her gaze once more would tear him to pieces. Mark breathed a sigh, turning to face her and grip her hands in his own.
“I assure you that what’s bothering me has nothing to do with you, and especially nothing to do with the moment we just shared. You’re wonderful, and making love to you was something I’d kill to experience a thousand times over. It’s simply that… there’s a problem that lies within me. Something I’ve avoided coming to terms with for some years. Now, here with you… I want to be a better person. And that means having a deep conversation with myself, and deciding what direction to go from here,” he rambled, looking altogether uncomfortable to be having such a talk with her.
“Would it be better if I left?” Jasmine asked softly, her expression vulnerable. Mark made as if to shake his head, but paused, locking eyes with her. His expression was melancholy, and it was clear that he was more upset than she had initially guessed. She drew away without waiting for an answer, rising to her feet and shuffling around the bed to gather her clothes. Deciding that finding her underwear was a lost cause, she settled for shimmying back into the dress she’d been wearing. She glanced towards Mark, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to beg her to stay. It was obvious, however, that something was stopping him. Until he came to terms with his feelings, she couldn’t lay next to him and pretend everything was okay. As much as she had enjoyed being in his arms, holding him in hers, she knew there was a deeper story to delve into.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Jasmine,” he said, his tone pleading.
“I know. So am I,” she whispered, turning her back on him and slipping out the door. It felt as if she were on some roller coaster from Hell, with the emotions she’d been thrown through. The highs of feeling as if she loved Mark, and could, in turn, be loved by him… they were the highest she’d ever felt. Perhaps she was moving too far, too fast, but love made you do crazy things. She could only hope that whatever he was feeling, Mark could come to terms with it. If not… she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay in this house.
She felt as if she had ruined something great. She felt as if she had ruined her short-lived relationship with Mark’s daughter, and would just be another woman who came abandon the t
wo of them. As much as she didn’t want that, she had to take care of herself too. If that meant ultimately packing her things and never looking back, it was a possibility she would have to consider.
For now, she slipped away from Mark’s bedroom, walking what felt a sort of walk of shame back to the guest room that she called her own. She was certain that she would be unable to sleep, and if she managed to close her eyes and drift away, knew that it would be a restless sleep. All the same, anything was better than being stuck in a room with a man who had dragged her through so many unbidden emotions. Especially when that man had emotions of his own to deal with. She stripped out of her dress, putting on a pair of pajamas more for modesty’s sake than anything else. Then, she tucked herself into the comfortable bedspread, staring at the ceiling as if it could provide the answers she so needed.
If only things were ever that easy.
Chapter Seven
Jasmine woke late the next morning, which was a bit of surprise considering how Jenny tended to greet her with a new game every morning. She threw her legs off the side of the bed, drawing the sheets and blankets off of herself before standing up. She briefly examined her reflection in the mirror, musing that she had certainly seen better days. She had no time to dwell on it for the time being, however. While she was unsure where she stood with Mark, she knew that she adored his daughter and would not see the girl untended to for the bulk of the day. Though it wasn’t often that Mark had to go into work, she knew that day was one of the few. She could only hope he’d had the sense to prepare breakfast for his daughter before he left. She slipped out of her room, brushing her hair behind her ears as she made her way through the house. She could hear the television playing in the living room. She followed the sound to see Jenny sitting on the couch and eating a bowl of cereal. It looked like one of those sugary sweet breakfast cereals with no nutritional value, but the expression on Jenny’s face made it clear that nutrition was the last thing on the girl’s mind that morning.
“Jenny?” Jasmine implored, stepping towards the couch and quirking a brow as the young girl jolted in surprise.
“Miss Jasmine! I didn’t think you’d be up for a while,” Jenny sputtered, lurching off the couch and glancing towards the front door in a rather suspicious manner. Jasmine pursed her lips, resting a hand on her hip and crouching to get on Jenny’s level.
“And why didn’t you wake me? Doesn’t your father have to report to his job today?” She inquired. Jenny shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze, glancing from Jasmine to the front door.
“I have someone coming to watch me, so I thought I would let you sleep in,” Jenny explained weakly. There was obviously more to the story, but Jasmine resolved to leave well enough alone as the doorbell rang. Jenny tried to shoulder past her, but Jasmine guided her back towards the couch.
“I’ll get the door, Jenny, you know not to answer for strangers,” the older woman sighed, stepping towards the front door. A knocking sounded almost immediately after the doorbell had rang, and she narrowed her eyes in irritation as she approached the door. Likely some door to door salesperson, also known as the last person she wanted to deal with that day. She pulled the door open without even looking out the peephole, jolting with surprise as she saw a familiar face on the other side.
“Oh, you’re still here,” Mark’s ex-wife said drolly, looking around Jasmine towards Jenny. “You could have given me a fair warning, sweetie. I wouldn’t want to impose,” the woman hummed, edging her way inside the house despite her words. Jasmine bit down a retort that she was very much imposing, but forced a kind expression.
“And what are you doing here? Mark didn’t tell me you would be here, and neither did Jenny. It’s a surprise to see that you want to actually spend time with your family, is all,” Jasmine said none too kindly. Deborah smiled, considering the nanny with an expression that Jasmine knew she wasn’t a fan of.
“I’m here to take my daughter to her ballet recital, though I’m not awfully surprised that Mark didn’t find it necessary to keep you informed,” the willowy woman said snidely. Jenny looked between the two of them with obvious discomfort, and Jasmine was growing increasingly aware of why the young girl might have wanted her to remain in bed.
“Well, considering I’m her nanny, it would have been prudent on your part to tell me, before you take her off somewhere,” she bit back. Deborah laughed, rolling her eyes and stepping towards Jenny.
“Jenny, get your things together. Your nanny and I are due for a long talk, okay, sweetie?” Mark’s ex said coolly, and Jenny looked imploringly to Jasmine.
“That’s okay, mom. I’ve got my things already. Why don’t we just leave?” Jenny said almost pleadingly. Deborah turned a cold look upon her daughter, and the young girl sighed before slipping away to her room. Deborah sat on the couch where Jenny had just been, patting the space next to her.
“I see you’ve not considered my warning regarding Mark,” Deborah hummed, a rather wicked glint in her eye. Jasmine narrowed her eyes, trying to come up with a viable excuse to leave the woman sitting alone on the couch. “I have a pretty good guess as to where he found you, after all. You wouldn’t be the first that he’s snared in his trap,” the woman continued, examining her nails. The younger woman’s eyes widened, and she stared in the direction Jenny had gone to make sure she would not overhear the conversation.
“Where exactly do you think he found me? I’m just Jenny’s nanny, nothing more than that,” Jasmine lied, though it was obvious Deborah didn’t quite buy it. The willowy woman stood, looking the young nanny up and down with a curious expression.
“You’re not his usual type, but you have every bit the babyface I’ve come to expect from those sites he frequents,” Deborah mused aloud. Panic gripped Jasmine’s heart, but at the same time, she was overcome with doubt. How could Mark’s ex know that she had sold her virginity online? Mark had seemed as if this was a once in a lifetime thing for him, he didn’t seem the type to regularly pick up nannies from a virginity auction website. He didn’t seem the type to frequent the websites at all, but how else could this woman know…?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re here to take Jenny to her recital, I’ll see that she gets dressed in short order. As far as you and I go, there’s nothing more to talk about,” Jasmine grumbled. She turned her back on the other woman, moving to slip away to Jenny’s room.
“He bought your virginity, didn’t he?” Deborah called out coldly, stopping Jasmine in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder, surprise and disbelief shining in her gaze.
“How did you…,” she began, cursing herself for being so transparent. “It’s nothing like that! I joined the website and he had the winning bid, but he’s been nothing but kind and--,” she was cut off by the other woman.
“A perfect gentleman, I presume? That’s what I’ve heard from the others I’ve met. I know this seems unlikely, but the Mark you know isn’t the real Mark. He’s a serial cheater, who has been buying young women’s virginity off of the net ever since we were together. Why do you think I would divorce such a handsome billionaire otherwise?” She drawled. Jasmine stared at her, slowly putting the pieces together in her mind. She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want to give this woman’s opinion more value than was due. It would, however, explain why Mark had seemed so troubled when they made love. Or was that all part of the game as well? Had he really felt guilty, or was he setting the stage to let her loose. Jasmine stared at Deborah for a long moment before sitting on the sofa.
“Okay. I’m listening,” Jasmine said, uncertainty ebbing from her words. Deborah smirked, sitting beside Jasmine and looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“Mark and I had the perfect marriage. At least, it was perfect in my eyes. He worked long hours, but always made ample time for his daughter. Granted, he was never as concerned with my well-being, but you know how fathers are,” she paused, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah…,” Jasmine muttered, a s
our expression on her face.
“In any case. While he worked, I was the perfect housewife. I prepared his meals, did his laundry, and the sex was fantastic,” Deborah paused, seemingly to gauge Jasmine’s expression. The younger woman wasn’t willing to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was upset, so she simply averted her eyes and hummed to acknowledge her.
“I’m well aware,” she said blithely. Mark’s ex-wife flinched visibly, but snorted and resumed her storytelling.
“I noticed that he was becoming reluctant to share his computer with me, and insisted that I have my own. No problem there, in and of itself. I was rather pleased to have a place to myself. But as he spent less and less time at home, my suspicions grew,” Deborah glanced at Jasmine, who seemed to be drinking in every word that passed the blonde woman’s lips.
