The Billionaire And The Nanny (Book Four)

by Paige North

  I push my cheek into my hand and just observe. “Take off the panties.” I won’t ask nicely and I won’t beg. I want her to do what I say when I say it. Whether it’s getting coffee for me or exposing her fresh, sweet pussy, I want her to react to my command.

  With a moment of hesitation, she curls her fingers around the edge of her panties and slowly slides them down. My chest is going to explode from the anticipation, but I don’t show it. She’s fucking sexy. Blonde, fair skin, and a full, ripe body ready to be taken.

  “Keep going. If I can’t touch you, I’ll watch you. You like it when I watch you, don’t you?”

  She nods and works her fingers faster, dipping into her own slippery wetness and pulling it up to her clit. A long sigh escapes her, and I know she’s forgetting about her embarrassment and just starting to be free, let go, take herself to the next level. My hand pushes down onto my fully hard cock, twitching to be free, but I won’t pull it out. Not today. Possibly not ever.

  I can’t get involved with Alana.

  I just figured I’d satisfy my curiosity before this never happens again.

  “What did you imagine us doing?”

  “You, naked,” she says, spreading her legs completely now. I wish I could go over there and fuck her, just plow myself deep into her, and make her come. “Fucking me.”

  “Ah, so you do like the thought of me telling you what to do,” I say with a smile. “You want me fucking you, don’t you? Hard and from behind, don’t you, Alana?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. I knew you were a dirty girl. I knew you were just playing the coquette, pretending to be prim and proper with your bun and your glasses. But look at you. You’re just a dirty girl who loves cock and thinks about fucking, don’t you?”

  “Yes…”

  She’s going to come. I’ve hit that high note, that forbidden spoken thought, the one suggesting she loves sex, loves it like she should. “You wish I would turn you around and fuck you against that headboard, don’t you? Ram my cock into you and then when you come, flip you around and empty my balls on your face. Isn’t it, Alana?” I demand, my voice growing louder.

  “Yes…” Her face begins to contort as she gasps for air, lips parted so beautifully, I wish I could put my cock there.

  “Then, do it.”

  “Yes…”

  “Do it.”

  “Yes…” Her fingers fly like crazy, working herself, but she doesn’t push over the edge, maybe because she’s still nervous about me being here, and so I can’t take it anymore. I fly to the edge of the bed and spread her legs, burying my face inside her sopping wet folds. Shimmering, slippery skin pushes into my face, as I feel her fingers dig into my scalp and pull me into her.

  I eat the fuck out of her.

  She smells so goddamn good, so fresh and clean, so sweet and innocent. Opening my mouth wide, I lick the fuck out of her pussy, taking in that feminine essence, making her mine, giving her what she wanted—what she needed. With a final, long moan, she comes—hard as fuck—and holy shit, there is nothing better in this world than having this woman’s pussy mashing against my face, as she screams through her orgasm. Her muscles ripple, and her pussy clenches, as the waves rock through her.

  I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s too late. And I don’t care.

  She trusted in me enough to do this, and I was pretty good about not touching her until the end, but by then, it didn’t matter anymore. She wanted me—needed me—to make her come. I smile even though my nose is buried in cum juice, and it’s such a fucking turn-on, I can’t stop. I keep licking her, pulling slightly on her hood, and lapping up that clit softly. With one hand on my crotch, I’m dying to pull my cock free and jack off while eating up this sweet girl’s pussy, but I hold back.

  I feel like not doing so would mean a total loss of control.

  At least this way, I’ve reined myself in somewhat. I can always jack off later when I’m replaying this moment in my mind a thousand times. The patience pays off, because Alana’s desire begins to build again, and I know she’s going for another orgasm. This time, I slide my fingers, two of them, into her pussy and begin fucking her with them.

  “Imagine me fucking you, Alana. I wish I could,” I speak against her skin. “Imagine your boss fucking you, his nanny, every single night just like this. Would you like that, Alana?” I don’t know where the fucking question comes from, because I shouldn’t be having thoughts like these. I shouldn’t even be here, exploring forbidden territory but I am.

  And maybe I’m a pervert, but Alana’s a pervert, too, and would it be so terrible if we got together every night and fucked our brains out? With a pussy like this, and tits like those… I reach up and cradle her breasts in my hands, feeling their slight weight, seeking out those hard nipples like pencil erasers. I squeeze them, pinch them, and pull on them until she’s pushing all the way through her tank top.

  “Yes, I’d love that.”

  “Good. Come for me again, Alana,” I tell her.

  With a frustrated little growl, she shifts against my face but seems dissatisfied with it, and so the unthinkable happens—she stands over me. This beautiful goddess of a woman is standing over me, knees bent, and dipping her slippery pussy against my face, grinding herself against my lips, my tongue, my mouth.

  I can think of myself as her boss as much as I want, but there’s no fooling anyone right now—she’s totally making me her bitch. She grips my hair, and for a sweet, innocent young woman, she fucks my face like a boss, bucking and humping my face so hard, I can’t even breathe. If I die, I die happy.

  Screaming out loud, she moans into the four walls of her bedroom and quivers up against face. I’m not going to feel any nerve endings on my cheeks tonight, but it’s okay, because I’ll sleep with a smile on my face on this night.

  “That’s it. That’s fucking it,” I tell her, climbing out from under her, lifting her, and laying her down in her bed. Alana gasps for air. Slender arms curl around my shoulders. As I admire the sheen of light sweat that’s formed all over her body, I wonder what the fuck just happened. Sexual tension just happened. My nanny just showed me her full potential is what just happened.

  But it can’t anymore, and the moment she recovers, looking up at me with both satisfied and curious-to-know-what-I-think-about-this eyes, I step out of her bed and onto the cold floor once again. “We overstepped our boundaries, Miss Frasier,” I tell her, knowing I sound like an ass but unable to do anything about it. “It can’t happen again.”

  “But…”

  “It can’t happen again,” I insist. No idea what she was going to say, but women always want to know where they stand with me following sex, especially true the younger they are. They always want to know where the relationship is headed.

  I’ll tell you where—nowhere. Because I don’t do relationships. I don’t even fuck my hired help either. This was my first. Before she can say anything else, I reach down and stroke her cheek. Soft and pink and full of flushed heat. I enjoy it for a couple of seconds, because I’ll never see her ravished and delicious ever again.

  And then, as quickly as I can, I scramble the fuck out of her bedroom, knowing I fucked up harder than ever, hating that I lost control when I rarely do, and close the door.

  Alana

  In the darkness of my lavish guest quarters, I tremble in bed, wondering what the hell just happened. Yes, I’ve had trouble keeping Kase off my mind, but I never thought he would actually come into my room and seduce me. I had no qualms about it, either. Just sure, I’ll spread my legs and show you what I was privately doing before you came in. Why not?

  Shame and disbelief course through me. How could I do that?

  Did it not occur to me to tell him no, that I’m as professional as they come and there’s no way in hell I’m going to engage in a hot masturbation session ending in even hotter pussy licking? Knowing him, it was probably a test, and tomorrow he’s so going to fire me. He’s going to say
I’m not worth my weight in salt and boot me the fuck out of his house. And worse, he could report me to Le Nanny and I’ll never work in this city again.

  God, I feel so stupid right now, but I have to get to bed somehow.

  After two orgasms, I’m more than spent. Still, tell that to my brain.

  Eventually, after watching the shadows of NYC shift across the wall through the window, I fall asleep. When I finally wake up, it’s to the sounds of Liam crying in the middle of the night. I pick him up and carry him, bouncing him around and whispering in his ear. “I know, baby. I know how you feel,” I tell him over and over, and to my surprise, he eventually falls back asleep. Great, right as I get the hang of this babying thing, I’m close to losing my job altogether.

  In the morning, I awaken before Liam. Throughout brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I’m on pins and needles. I have to go downstairs and face him. Tell him that I’m sorry for what we did, that it got out of control. I might even confess that I’ve never been with a man before, so I wasn’t sure what to do, though clearly, engaging in sexual situations with my employer was not the right choice. I’ll beg if I have to.

  But while routinely checking my inbox, there’s an email from Kase, and I just know it’s my termination letter. When I open the message, however, turns out it’s a twenty-page PowerPoint presentation on how to take care of Liam while he’s at work.

  Wait, he’s at work?

  I thought he said he was taking a few days off to watch over me. If by “watch over” me, he means dirty-talking his way through my masturbation all the way to orgasm, then so far, he’s done a spectacular job. Rolling my eyes, I read the email from Kase over again. Though he claims that work calls, I realize his grand plan is probably to avoid me today.

  That could be a good thing. Maybe I won’t be fired. On the other hand, now I have to face him again through utter embarrassment instead of being given the chance to flee with my tail between my legs.

  In the other room, the soft sounds of a baby gurgling and cooing in his crib echo through the monitor. I enter the room with a smile. “There’s my little prince,” I say, scooping him up and handing him his bottle, warm and ready on his night stand. At first, the little prince looks surprised to see me, but he doesn’t cry or scream for his father.

  I guess we’re making progress.

  The worst part of spending the day with a six-month-old is that he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. The best part of spending the day with a six-month-od is that he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. I literally have no one to confess my transgressions to. I can’t exactly call my mom and tell him I’ve fucked my boss. I can’t tell my friends either. I’m alone in this—it’s too mortifying for me to admit.

  But Baby Liam listens as I talk. And he’s super non-judgmental, too.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I tell him during dinner. Six o’clock, and Kase still hasn’t come back. At this rate, I can expect to be home alone all day with this munchkin.

  Liam smushes a few peas with his fist then shoves them in his mouth, giving me those attentive big eyes. “Ba-ba…”

  “I didn’t mean to do it, Liam. Please don’t think poorly of me. I just…I don’t know. I’ve heard about the heat of the moment from other people. In movies, too. I just never thought it would happen to me. Not on my first night of work anyway. And definitely not with my boss.”

  Liam smashes another group of peas and giggles.

  “It’s not funny. We’re talking your dad here. I could get fired.”

  Somehow, Liam finds that even funnier.

  “Listen,” I say, cleaning up the high chair tray. “It’s soft music time, according to your father’s PowerPoint slide #17. Then bath time, bottle, and bedtime by nine o’clock. By then, he should be home, and I should be fired. Okay? I love you, Liam. I know we didn’t have much time together, but I do. Wish me luck.”

  “Ba-ba-ba…”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

  As we get ready for the bedtime routine, I feel my solar plexus tightening into a knot. Any moment now, Kase will come home, and my day of avoidance will come to an end. At some point before this night is over, I’ll have to face him. We’re going to have to talk about it. Once again, I’ll see his dark eyes. I’ll remember what he did to me, how he threw himself between my legs, and ate my pussy like it was the only thing on the menu and he was a starving traveler, fresh in from the desert.

  The worst part about all this isn’t even the good chance that I’ll be fired.

  It’s that I want what happened last night to happen again. I know it’s crazy, unprofessional, taboo, and so very wrong. He’s my boss, plus he’s older and more experienced than I am. But if I could have it happen again without any repercussions, I would. Again and again. Watching that tongue lap me up was beyond heavenly. It was sexy as hell. Intimate, and so damn naughty, I couldn’t hold myself together.

  I want him to do it again.

  I want to feel his mouth on me, his tongue, his heat enveloping me.

  I even want to feel his cock inside of me, pounding, claiming. Even though I’ve never taken one in before, I can imagine how it’d feel. Massively huge. Filling. Basically nothing stands between us. If it happened last night, it could very well happen again. What would I do if the opportunity presented itself again?

  Be stronger this time?

  Or just let it happen?

  I’m scared of what I truly want—a man to teach me, control me…maybe even use me. And minutes after Liam goes down for the count and I can breathe again, shower, and even fall asleep before Kase has the chance to arrive, I hear the sound of the front door sensor chiming through the halls, signaling he’s home. And I know I’m fucked.

  In way more ways than one.

  Kase

  All day, I’ve thought of her. This is a goddamn problem.

  And all day, I’ve tried to stay away, engulfing myself in work projects, only checking in with Alana through texts. It’s a tough spot to be in. On one hand, I wanted to go home during lunch and see the baby (and her) or come home early to spend time with Liam before bed. But now, because of the way I lost control around her, I feel like I can’t go home.

  I can’t stay away either. I have to face this situation.

  Entering the house, I hang my coat and lock up for the night, heading straight for the bar to pour myself a Jack and Coke. What happened was a one-time thing, Alana. It can’t happen anymore. I told her this last night, but this time, I have to enforce it. I’m the boss here, goddammit, and the older one by about seven years. I think I can keep the monster inside the pants.

  Heading into my office, I surround myself with books and papers in the hopes they’ll keep me more professional. Staying away from her bedroom would be good from now on in general, too. And if you hear her masturbating again, leave her the fuck alone, Kase. Sinking into my leather chair, I lean back and sip from my tumbler.

  I’ve been with hundreds of women. When it’s clear there’s mutual physical connection and no hazard for hooking up, I take that shit. Why not? We all need sex, and all it takes it two willing adults. But that’s it—that’s where the liaison ends. I’ve lost two too many women I love in this life to invest any more emotion into anyone else. I’m done with close relationships—parental, best friend, or romantic. I’m so good at letting go, at nipping it in the bud before it even has the chance to bloom, that I’ve been confounded all day.

  Why Alana?

  Why can’t I get the nanny, of all women, out of my mind?

  She’s gorgeous, sure, but all the women I’ve slept with are out of this world beautiful. It just comes with the territory, with the money, and hey, I keep in shape, too. She’s also smart, but I work with lots of smart cookies, so I have no fucking clue why I can’t stop thinking about her.

  Maybe it was the innocent way she gave herself over to me. Trusted me. Her reaction made me feel she needed someone—needed a man to take control. Too many wo
men I’ve fucked don’t need shit from me. They all get along by themselves. But Alana looked like she could’ve used a good fuck, and let’s face it—there’s nothing wrong with that.

  Before I can think about the situation another second, I hear light footsteps outside my door. Stay strong, I tell myself. But the whisky is already taking the edge off, as well as making me bolder, so by the time she appears in my doorway—this time in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and hair in a swishy ponytail—I’m already wishing I could leave the house again.

  “Mr. Hardwin, can I talk to you?”

  “How was Liam at bedtime? Sorry I couldn’t be here. Things got sticky at work.” I hate sounding like a deadbeat dad, but I needed the space. At least for a day.

  “Better than he’s been with me so far. I think we needed the time to get used to one another.” Her voice oozes like honey. There’s a tad of southern in it. She also leans casually against the door instead of standing stiff and professional like usual.

  “Excellent,” I tell her, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “And how were you today?” I ask, following up with, “You can take time off if you need it. I realize you didn’t have a break today.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Too tired to go anywhere at this point. But uh…I wanted to say something…”

  “No, let me. Look, Alana, I don’t know what happened last night. I guess before we’re anything, we’re man and woman first. So let’s just say that pheromones hijacked the situation. It’ll never happen again.”

  Her face freezes. Eyes wide, she stares at me, assessing my words and analyzing their meaning. “Right.” One word she utters, but it carries so much heaviness, I have to think that maybe she’s disappointed.

  Fuck, I’m disappointed.

  Because she looks so fucking beautiful right now, even after a full day of caring for an infant. An infant who even isn’t hers, which is exponentially harder. Maybe I’m reading her wrong, but it seems like we’re not done here. We’ve only just started, and nobody has to know about this. “That is okay…isn’t it, Miss Frasier?”