by Alexa Riley
Standing up, I let out a sigh and step in front of her. “Do I have to do everything, Kennedy? You should be getting the easy tasks on the first try. Don’t make me regret hiring you,” I lie. I’d die before I ever regretted this.
“Yes, Mason. I’ll do better. The buttons are too tight.”
I grip the material with both hands and rip it open. She gasps in shock. “That’s called problem-solving, sweetie. Now unhook your bra.”
She reaches down, her little hands shaking a little, and unclasps the hook easily enough. I sit down at the table with her, but still keep a perfect view of her body. She pulls the material away and her fat tits fall out, revealing pretty, pink nipples.
“So hard,” I muse as I reach out and run my thumb across one hard peak.
She lets out a little whimper as I pinch it and then release it. Reaching over, I grab a few of the covered dishes and take the lids off. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, and more are revealed. Her eyes widen and she looks at me.
“Mason, I can’t eat all this.” She looks a little shocked.
“You’ll eat as much as you can hold and then eat a little more,” I say, picking up the silverware and cutting up her pancakes for her. “Because that’s what I’ve asked you to do. I want your belly nice and full.”
I smear the bite with butter and pour syrup over it, then hold it out for her to take.
She hesitates for a second and opens up. I feed her all of the pancakes and then start on the next plate, watching her mouth as she takes each bite. I didn’t know watching her eat, feeding her, could turn me on as much as seeing her cunt open to me. She makes it through three before she says she can’t eat anymore.
“Kennedy,” I scold. Chastened, she opens her mouth again for more.
Once I feel like she’s eaten enough to have put on at least a pound, I put the fork down and rub my hands on her thighs.
“Lean back in the chair. I want to play with you a little, and then I want you to suck me off.” She licks her lips, and for a moment I wonder if she wants this as much as I do. But I know that’s impossible. She’s only here because I’m paying her. She’s playing a role. A small part of me hates that, but a bigger part knows I’ll take this any way I can get it. And I will be taking it.
“Yes, Mason,” she says, lying back and letting her legs open wider.
I press my fingers to her wet opening and slide them in easily. Her puffy folds are glistening with juices, and the sound of her cunt sucking in my digits is so erotic. With my other hand I pinch one nipple and then the other. Leaning forward, I place my mouth on one, and I feel her back bow off the chair, trying to push my mouth down harder on it. I suck the tight bun in my mouth and bite down on it a little. I let her feel the pressure of my teeth as I fuck her cunt harder with my fingers. I could bend her over this table and take it with my dick, but I want to explore this little treasure.
“Mason.” She moans, and I feel her tighten down on me.
I suck her nipple harder, and within seconds she’s cumming on my hand. She may look innocent and sweet, but she fucking cums like a professional. I’m reminded again that I’m paying her to do this, and I lean away from her in aggravation. I shouldn’t be mad that I’ve hired her to service me, but I am. How many other men does she do this to?
Angrily, I unbutton my slacks and pull out my cock. I fist it in my hand and pump it a few times.
“Get your mouth on my dick,” I say, harsher than I should. I’m pissed off, and I don’t know how to stop it. “Let’s see if you suck a good cock.”
Quicker than I thought she’d be capable of after her orgasm, she’s falling between my knees, both hands grabbing my shaft.
“I’ll give you extra points for being so eager. Good girl, Kennedy.”
Her mouth is on my cock, and she’s swallowing more than I imagined she’d be able to get her mouth around. My head falls back and I moan as the warm wet heat of her mouth sucks me.
“Goddamn, sweetie. Be careful or you’re going to suck me dry and I won’t have any left to put in your pussy.”
She whines, and I grip her hair, pushing her down further on my cock.
“Don’t worry, I’ll save you some.”
Her mouth pops off and then licks down my shaft and to my balls. She tongues me there and looks up at me at the same time.
“Fuck,” I grunt and I’m about to cum.
The sight of her on her knees with her fat tits hanging out and her wet cunt spread spurs me to orgasm. Thick streams of cum run down my shaft, and she licks them up, moving her mouth back to my tip. She sucks, and I can feel the cum from the base of my dick being vacuumed out by her mouth.
I grip her hair tighter and finally feel some kind of relief after a night of jerking off with no results. Her fucking mouth is magic.
“Good girl,” I breathe as she gives the tip of my cock one little kiss before smiling up at me.
I lean down and take her lips. The kiss is softer and sweeter than anything we’ve shared. The kiss is like one lovers would share, not one given by someone hired to get you off. For a moment, I can almost forget how she came to be in my office, and I pretend that she’s my wife. She’s come to have breakfast with me, and our morning touches have turned into this.
The image of Kennedy wearing white and owning my last name flashes in my mind.
Chapter Six
Kennedy
I stand in the middle of Mason’s massive bedroom surrounded by so many boxes and bags I don’t even know where to begin. It’s a little overwhelming. The room looks like a retail store exploded in the middle of it. It’s left the once-impeccable space a total mess, which is a feat because it’s double the size of my old apartment.
We’d gone to so many stores today that they all started to blur together. Some, I couldn’t pronounce the names of, and some made me feel completely out of place. I’d get the strangest looks from the saleswomen until they saw Mason. Then their eyes lit up like they’d just won the lottery. Probably had something to do with the commission they earned off the shopping spree. Some of the places didn’t even have price tags on the items.
The whole time, Mason stood and watched me change from one outfit to the next. At first I thought it was sweet, how his eyes would never leave me. Then I started to wonder if this was simply what it was like, how he was with his mistresses. He had focused his crazy intensity on me, and I was sure every woman who had felt this before me loved it like I did. He said he’d gone through a lot of them. Maybe I was nothing more than something fun and new and he’d soon be done with me. When the novelty wears off, where will that leave me?
Definitely without a home, but maybe I can keep paying my bills for as long as this lasts. I know I have to try. Maybe I should Google how to be a mistress or something. Aren’t I supposed to be seductive? Because I am definitely not. I have no clue what I’m doing when he gets his hands on me. Thankfully he always just tells me.
The worst part is, I’m responding to it. I’m getting off on it when I shouldn’t be; I’m his plaything. He’s hired me to be his paid whore, but for some reason my body doesn’t care. In fact, it’s only making me hotter. The thought of him paying me—how he can do anything he pleases with me—makes my body throb with need. Something is wrong with me. This shouldn’t be turning me on. He made me suck his cock on demand, and I was too willing. Not because I was paid to, but because I wanted to. I wanted to please him, to touch him. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to make my body come alive again. Because that's what happened when his skin found mine. For those few minutes it was just us. We were only about pleasure, and the rest of the world slipped away. All of my worries and fears fell aside, and I was lost to him.
Until the reality started to slip back in. Like it’s doing right now. I stand alone in his bedroom. He rushed out the door and left me standing here, where he told me I’d be staying. Not in another condo or even another room. I’m to be in his bed every night. He made that very clear. In fact, he said when he got
home, I better be naked in his bed.
What he didn’t tell me was what he was going to do. All I know is he got a call and was gone. A call from a woman, if my ears heard right. I hate how that made me feel. The jealousy that worked its way through me was almost uncontrollable. It’s none of my business. Last night, when I was lying in bed and wondering what I’d gotten myself into, I told myself that I should have walked out when I knew what being Mason’s assistant really entailed. That it was more than answering phone calls and taking appointments. I know I shouldn’t get attached to him. This is a job, something that will keep me off the streets and out of a shitty apartment where I fear sleeping most nights. This will keep my grandpa in a top-rate nursing home without the fear being unable to pay his bills.
The thing is, my mind and heart aren’t listening to each other. Something about Mason is drawing me in. The way he looks at me. The way he seems like he can’t get enough of me at times. But then the look leaves him like he’s flipped a switch. He can go from wanting me to dismissing me so quickly it’s unsettling. Almost like he’s mad at me for doing what he told me to do.
But what do I know about relationships? Around the time when boys started to appear on my radar, my grandpa got sick. He’d taken care of me my whole life and I was going to make sure I took care of him. If I wasn’t at school, I was with him or trying to make sure our lives wouldn’t fall apart.
I’d failed. I didn’t want to put him in a nursing home, even if it was a good one. My heart aches when I think about it. Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, I see it’s only six o’clock and know there’s only one thing that will make me feel better right now.
I grab the cell phone Mason gave me and my old worn backpack and make my way through the immaculate home. The whole place is decorated with art on the walls and furniture that looks like it’s never used. It’s a home, but it doesn’t feel like one. It’s almost as if the place is staged. It looks like what realtors do when trying to sell a house. Everything is in its place, but nothing is being used.
Slipping out of the front door, I make my escape from the fancy building. I still can’t believe it’s where I live now. I walk down the street a few blocks and to the bus station. I pull out my metro card while I wait for the bus, and then get on unnoticed, even though I’m wearing clothes that look like they belong only on a runway.
The cream-colored dress comes all the way to my neck and has short sleeves. The top is form-fitting, and the waist is cinched by a thick navy belt. Then it starts to flare out until it hits mid-thigh. I picked this one to wear because it came with navy flats to match the belt and I knew my feet would love me for it.
Once I’m at the right stop, I hop off and walk up to the nursing home. I give Larry, the security guard, a small wave and stop to ask how his new baby is doing. Once inside, I nod at the front desk nurse, who is going over a stack of files. She pushes a button to grant access. I sign in, asking her how everything is going before heading straight for my grandpa’s room.
I stop when I see him sitting up in bed watching TV. He’s in the same dark green flannel pajamas he’s been wearing for as long as I can remember. He must have two dozen pairs. His thick gray hair is combed to the side, and I follow his line of sight and see him watching an old western. We used to watch them together all the time. It was actually our favorite thing to do after dinner. We’d have ice cream and I’d end up passing out on the sofa. I lean up against the door frame and wait for him to notice me. It easier this way. To just let him notice me first. When he finally turns his head, my stomach tightens into a ball as I wonder what will come.
“Pumpkin. I was wondering when you’d be by.” My eyes water, but a smile spreads across my face. Tonight is going to be a good night. He smiles at me, and I push myself from the door and make my way to him. I drop my backpack next to his bed and move closer.
“I got caught up. Sorry, Grandpa.”
“That’s all right. You look mighty pretty tonight,” he tells me, scooting over in his bed and patting the empty space next to him.
I waste no time hopping up into the bed. One of his arms wraps around me, and he pulls me in for a little hug and kisses the top of my head. The worry I’ve been feeling washes away. Though the nurse told me he’s had a good day, it makes me feel better to see it for myself.
“I started a new job,” I admit.
“At a jeweler?” I can hear the trace of hope in his voice.
He knows making jewelry is something I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve drawn up pages and pages of jewelry designs over the years. I don’t know why I’m so in love with jewelry, but I am. Have been my whole life. I’m always looking at what people wear, and I'm fascinated by how different people’s taste can be. The jewelry someone wears says a lot about that person.
“No, I’m just an administrative assistant, but I’m still working on that in my free time. I don’t know if I’d like working in a jewelry store much. I just like making the designs.” I lean into him, resting my head against him and staring at the TV.
“You’re doing all right, pumpkin? You don’t need anything?” I can hear the concern in his voice.
Grandpa doesn’t know how bad it had gotten. Together we had agreed to sell the house because he knew he was getting worse, too. He knew he was having episodes when he couldn’t remember who I was or even where he was. Sometimes he became distraught and would try to leave our home and I didn’t have the physical strength to stop him.
Though he thought we’d made out better than we had in the sale and that there is a good chunk of money left in the bank. He also thought this place cost a third of what it really does.
I couldn’t let him go into a place he thought we could afford. They don’t have everything this one has. This place has better doctors, programs, food, and nurses. Name it and this place has it. Not only that, it isn’t big. The place feels like a real home, not a nursing home.
I don't want him to think about any of that. To worry about what is going on. I am going to handle it. He doesn’t need the stress. Who knows what that could do to him?
“I’m perfect. You should see my new place. It’s as fancy as this dress I have on.” I put a little excitement into my words, hoping it settles him.
“As long as you’re happy, pumpkin, I’m happy.” He leans back in the bed, pulling me a little closer.
“I don’t think you’ve seen this one,” he tells me, and I nod my head in agreement. I don’t recognize the old black-and-white movie playing on the screen.
“You’ll love it. Got a sweet romance story in it.”
I blush at his words, but he’s right. I did always favor the ones where the hero comes to save the day and falls hopelessly in love with the heroine, even though he’s a rough and gruff cowboy who never had any real feelings until she came along.
I lie with my grandpa watching the movie and start to feel my eyes grow heavy. I know I should get up, but I can’t bring myself to move. Eventually I fall into a deep sleep, savoring the moment, knowing those same moments will soon be a rarity.
Chapter Seven
Mason
I stand in the doorway of the room and lean against the frame. Kennedy is asleep on the bed with her grandfather, and though I hate to wake her, it’s probably better if she isn’t here when he wakes up.
I got a call earlier from a doctor I contacted about her grandfather’s condition. After I hired Kennedy and did some digging into her background, I was led to the nursing home where her mother’s father resides. I arranged to pay for his care there and to see if there was anything else that could be done to ensure he has the best care available.
The nurses put me in touch with one of the country’s leading Alzheimer’s specialists. She looked over his file today and called me back. I didn’t want Kennedy to know I’d done this behind her back until I had good news for her. But from what the doctor told me, the outlook is not good. He’s fading faster as time goes on, and she said the best thing Kennedy can do is ke
ep him in familiar surroundings, because change can be disruptive to a patient.
When I found out, a wave of guilt washed over me and I realized why she was doing this job. The place she chose isn’t cheap, and I can’t imagine the jobs she had before were enough to make the payments. I was able to get my investigator to pull everything on her and saw her bank accounts have been dwindling to almost nothing. She’s in a desperate situation, and I’m sure that’s why she took the job as an escort, but with the jealousy inside I can’t help but wonder how many times she’s done this before me. It doesn’t look like any large chunks of money were deposited into her account other than the money from the sale of a house. She may have taken payment in cash before so it wouldn’t show up. Still, I wonder if she could have possibly been up to this longer considering the cost of the nursing home.
The salary I pay her would more than cover it several times over. I know it’s probably a relief to her not to have to worry about it, but it makes me feel like a bastard. I’m paying her to take care of my needs so that she can have the money to care for her sick grandfather.
I needed to even the playing field, so I went ahead and paid for the next five years of care, with instructions to contact me personally for any other financial assistance the home might need. I’d also made a large charitable contribution so that they could renovate the back garden and create a space outside for him to enjoy.
Taking care of her grandfather makes me feel like less of an asshole for what I want from her. It feels more balanced now. At some point I may tell her, but not yet. Not until I have her under me and she’s bred with my baby. I want her bound to me as tightly as possible before she finds out she doesn’t have to work on her knees anymore.
I also found out more than I wanted to know about her old landlord. He has a liking for what’s mine. He’s another thing she’ll never have to worry about. I’ve made sure of that.
