Dirty Treats

by West, Jade

  “I hope it develops,” I whispered. “I hope it goes all the way.”

  This time he took both of my hands in his. My fingers looked so small in his grip. “And I hope I can be that man you wished for. Asked Santa for. I hope I can be exactly the man you need. Deserve.”

  “You can be,” I told him. “I know you can. You are. You’ve been watching me, but I’ve been watching you. You can’t even imagine how hard I’ve been watching you.”

  “Touché,” he said, then let my fingers go. “And your dinner is getting cold.” He smirked the smirk I loved so much. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling about ready for dessert.”

  I tingled through every last bite of turkey.

  Chapter 17

  Jackson

  So, my sweet little jen jen wanted a daddy for Christmas.

  It’s not an uncommon childhood wish, of that I was certain, but it added a definite frisson to the age gap element of our relationship.

  The girl was a thrilling contradiction. The responsible, ambitious head on her shoulders at odds with the cute little pixie who looked across the table at me with such big doe eyes.

  I adored both sides equally and utterly.

  The girl was well and truly under my skin.

  I weighed her up as she finished her dinner, wondering exactly where the heart of her Christmas daddy confession lay.

  I’d been told throughout my life I was an astute observer. I read people. Situations. It’s one of the skills that helped set me up so successfully in my business endeavours.

  My senses were thrumming all the while I watched her across the table. I noted all of it — her sharp, shallow breaths, her eagerness to please. Her eagerness for praise.

  Yes, the girl wanted maturity in a partner. She wanted encouragement and support, someone who could spur her onward on her path through life.

  But she also wanted something else.

  She wanted a firm hand. Discipline. Authority.

  I could feel it sizzling deep in her pretty little soul. I’d felt it through long arduous meetings at the office where I’d enforced my leadership in the face of business challenges from all angles.

  I’d be lying if I said the prospect of landing a firm hand on that delightful ass of hers didn’t have my dick pulsing under the table top.

  I put my cutlery down when she’d eaten her fill, my appetite long since craving a different nourishment entirely.

  I cleared the plates without a word, loving the way her eyes followed me every step, even as she helped me by clearing up the napkins and side dishes.

  “I bought you a present,” she told me shyly as I loaded up the dishwasher. “It’s only a crappy little thing, but it’s under the tree.”

  “I’m sure it will be an excellent gift,” I told her, then couldn’t hold back my dirty smile. “But I was actually hoping you’d indulge me with a present of the more practical variety.”

  She braced herself against the worktop, tipping her face up to mine as I leaned in close. “Tell me,” she breathed. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

  My cock twitched like a filthy cunt in my pants.

  “Your Secret Santa gift,” I said. “I’ve been thinking of it since you tore open the wrapping yesterday.”

  Her giggle was addictive. Low and light with just the right edge of dirtiness. “I think I can manage that.”

  I gestured to the hallway. “I think you should head upstairs and get changed for dessert. Quick sharp, young lady.”

  She planted a dainty little kiss on my open lips before she went, and I didn’t waste even a heartbeat.

  Jenny was barely out of view before I headed into the living room and fired up my laptop. I positioned it at my side on the sofa, turning back my shirt cuffs and setting my swollen dick free from my trousers.

  My cock was in my hand when she appeared in the doorway.

  She was beautifully nervous, dithering deliciously as she stepped into full view.

  The bra was a delight on her perfect tits, hoisting up her milky flesh enough that her nipples were bullets peeking over the top of the lace. The thong was a shimmering wonder in scarlet, slick enough to her skin that her slit pouted through the silk.

  I couldn’t hold back the groan as I drank her in.

  She did a nervous twirl for me, bending low enough that the string of the thong stretched taut between those beautiful fucking ass cheeks.

  I tapped the laptop screen as she finished up her pirouette.

  “You wanted a Christmas daddy,” I told her. “Daddies are all about guidance as well as support, little girl. The punishment as much as the praise.”

  Her eyes widened so fucking gloriously.

  “You’ve been a naughty girl,” I growled. “Writing such dirty things on your work laptop.” I worked my dick as she stared. “Naughty girls need to learn their lesson, Jenny. Are you going to be a good girl and take your punishment gladly?”

  Her nod was almost imperceptible, thighs clenching tight as I patted my knee.

  She folded over my lap as though she was born to be there, balancing on tiptoes even as I shifted her weight evenly across my legs. My dick was hard against her bare stomach, her tits free to bounce as she dropped herself all the way. I made sure the screen was close enough to her face that she could read the text, and then I ran my palm over her naked ass cheeks as she shuddered.

  “Have you ever been spanked?” I asked, and she shook her head.

  “No, sir.”

  “Read the title on screen,” I told her, and my voice was stern.

  Hers was a weak little whimper. “First… first time anal…”

  “Dirty girl,” I grunted and landed the first slap on her thigh.

  She squeaked. “Sorry, sir.”

  I knew then that I was a sure fan of this dirty little set-up.

  “Read it,” I barked, and she did. How she fucking did.

  I slapped that ass in rhythmic thwacks as she talked me through her filthy little fantasy.

  I dipped my fingers inside that silky thong as she told me how good my dick would feel inside her dirty brown hole, then groaned at how fucking wet that pretty little slit was for me.

  Wet enough to slick a finger up nice and slippery for her puckered little virgin asshole.

  “Naughty little slut,” I chided, even as my dick twitched underneath her. “You want my cock in your tight little asshole, you’d better be a good girl for my fingers.”

  “I will be,” she promised. “Please, sir. I will be.”

  She kept her promise with one at least. The string of her thong stretched clear of her rump, painting such a pretty picture as I spread those cheeks nice and wide for me. Her little brown ring winked but didn’t protest, sucking my finger in like she was hungry for more.

  “That feels so dirty,” she breathed.

  “I’ve barely fucking started,” I grunted, and slid in another.

  She cried out at that one, jerking on my lap as her ass strained to take the intrusion.

  I gave her a slap on her rosy pink butt for her trouble.

  “Keep reading,” I demanded, and her voice trembled as she continued.

  “And he fucked me. Hard and deep. Oh, fuck, how Mr Hart fucked me. His big dick stretched me raw. My ass struggled to take the thickness, but I didn’t care. I begged him for more.”

  A slap and a thrust of my fingers had her quivering.

  “You’re gonna take my fucking dick in that tight little hole, little girl. Three virgin holes deflowered on Christmas Day. How’s that for Santa’s naughty list?”

  “Please!” she cried. “Please, Mr Hart! Please take me!”

  Three fingers must have hurt her, even slicked up nicely. I twisted them deep and her asshole took it all eagerly, even if she whimpered and wriggled.

  Her ass was glowing pink, cheeks matching cheeks as she twisted back to look at me.

  “How many?” she asked, and I smirked at her.

  “Three thick fingers, sweetheart,
but it’s nothing compared to my cock.”

  “Do it,” she rasped. “Please, Mr Hart, please just fucking do it.”

  “Foul mouth,” I hissed, and slammed my fingers in hard.

  “Oh fuck! Oh yes! Ow, fuck!”

  And she had me.

  As always, the girl fucking had me.

  I pulled my fingers free with a filthy squelch, wasting no time in shunting her from my lap and positioning her over the arm of the sofa.

  Her ass was up, the thong still straining, her asshole spluttering even as I lined up my cock to plough in deep.

  I rubbed my dick against her sopping cunt before I forced entry to that puckered little ring. Her whole body tensed and she yelped as the head sank in with a plop.

  It hurt me as well as her. Her ass was vicious in its tightness, but I didn’t hold back, thrusting my hips to claim the battleground, short and sharp, edging all the fucking way.

  “Three fucking holes,” I growled and she tossed me an open-mouthed stare over her shoulder.

  “All yours,” she whispered.

  She was right about that. All three of them were mine. Mine for fucking keeping. Mine for owning. Mine for fucking.

  She was mine.

  I took her hair and tugged until she arched her back, flesh slapping flesh so fucking perfectly that the sound was from heaven itself.

  I made her beg me to rub that needy little clit, and even then I made her wait for it. Made her wait until my balls were tightening and threatening to fucking blow, my dick seized in her tight virgin asshole.

  And then I rubbed her. Hard.

  It was brutal. Tense. Desperate.

  She came for me with a scream that sounded almost pained, even as her thighs trembled and buckled.

  “FUCK, MR HART! PLEASE! FUCK! FILL ME UP!”

  And I came for her right back.

  Loud and low and feral. Out of my fucking mind.

  Her pulsing asshole spat a long dribble of cum out with my dick. I watched it drool down to that perfect little cunt with a smile on my face.

  “I hope this taught you a lesson,” I told her once I’d caught some semblance of breath.

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. It did, sir. It taught me everything.”

  Her eyes followed the cursor on screen as I leaned in over her back and took control of the laptop.

  I clicked to open a cloud drive, and there, bold and brazen, in a directory all of its own was the brand new folder I’d set up ready.

  Jenny’s stuff.

  It took her a few seconds to speak. “But I don’t… understand…”

  “Homework,” I said. “I expect this directory topped up at least three times weekly.”

  Her eyes met mine and I adored the sight of the confusion clearing.

  “You said you had a million,” I prompted. “I’m sure you can manage three a week.”

  “More than that,” she said. “I have more than a million. I have a billion. A billion billion.”

  “And now you have the holes all broken in for the real life dramatisation.”

  I rubbed my cum back and forth across her puffy slit.

  Her giggle set me on fire. “I hope you have a clear schedule,” she whispered. “You’ll have a lot of fantasies to choose from.”

  When I said the words, I didn’t realise they were coming, but they were.

  They’d always been coming, before she’d even known my name. Before I’d known she’d be mine. Before I’d even had a job for her.

  Back when I’d become transfixed by a sweet little pixie girl in a county far, far away.

  “Every night,” I told her. “We’ll be enacting them every night. And since we have quite a backlog, we’d best get started at the earliest possible convenience. My vote is tomorrow.”

  “You mean… every night… as in…” Her pretty mouth opened, struggling for the words.

  She didn’t need them, I finished up the sentiment easily.

  “We’ll get your stuff in the morning, Miss Morris. You’re moving in.”

  Epilogue

  Jenny

  I never did spend another night in that crappy little flat. Not over Christmas, nor the New Year, nor ever after.

  Mr Hart surprised me. He liked crime drama, and ten pin bowling. He liked Mexican food from a restaurant in the centre of town at least once weekly. He liked early morning walks in the park at the bottom of his estate, and he knew all the different kinds of trees.

  He liked long baths on a Sunday evening, and the scent of tea tree. He liked reading business books aloud and pondering quotes from philosophers.

  And me.

  He liked me.

  Loved me. That’s what he told me at midnight on New Year’s Eve, right while my mum danced with David at the other end of the crowded bar.

  I didn’t even wait a breath before saying the words right back at him.

  And so that was us, and we were in love.

  Just us, and Dick Whittington on timeshare when he fancied making an appearance from his original house down the road.

  January turned to February, and February turned into the beginnings of spring, and my dirty stories kept filling his cloud drive, and still he kept on demanding more.

  I was happy to oblige.

  He was more than a boss, and more than the man I’d wished for in all those Daddy please notes to Santa. He was a friend I could laugh with in quiet sleepy moments before bed. He was a lover who taught me all the dirty delights the office gossip had promised. He was a chef, and a film night buddy, and a masseur at the end of a long working week.

  He was my everything.

  It was early March when he offered me the promotion to his Executive Assistant. I’d stared open-mouthed across the meeting room table as he outlined the job description in the presence of both his senior accountant and leading client relationship manager.

  I’d looked from him to them and back again, wondering if this was really for real, and more importantly if it was really deserved, but he’d read my mind even as I’d pondered the question.

  “No, Miss Morris, this isn’t because I’m sharing a bed with you. Quite the opposite. You’d have probably been promoted already if I wasn’t.”

  That’s the other thing I’d come to learn about Jackson. His bluntness knows no limits.

  There was never so much as a hint of secrecy around our relationship status. He’d made it known we were dating on the very first day of the new work year, holding back nothing as eyebrows went up right through the business.

  They didn’t stay raised long. Gossip is never as interesting when it’s spoken loudly.

  I must have stayed open-mouthed for quite some time before I mumbled that I was flattered by his promotion offer.

  “Do you want to know the salary details before you make your decision?” he’d asked across the table, but I’d shaken my head.

  “No. I’d be honoured to take the position, thank you.”

  His smile told me he was as pleased by my acceptance as I was.

  He’d pulled me to the side once his colleagues had wrapped up business, keeping us back in silence until we were alone in the meeting room.

  “You’re the perfect fit for the job,” he assured me. “I couldn’t trust anyone more.”

  I trailed my fingers down his tie as he stared down at me. “I’ll do my best,” I promised. “Always.”

  “Of that I’ve no doubt, sweetheart.” His smirk lit up my world. “But this afternoon I’m going to ask you to leave your professional standards at the door. I want you to be the shittiest employee in the building while the quarterly planning meeting is being held.”

  I pulled a face as I attempted to fathom his meaning. “You want me to be crap at my job?”

  He laughed a filthy laugh. “Just for today. There’s one little document on the Jenny’s stuff drive we haven’t managed to explore yet.”

  I thought back through the list.

  We’d done his office, many times. We’d done the office kitchen b
efore the office day started. We’d done his car, and the park by his house, and every single room in his place, including his garage.

  We’d done everything I’d ever dreamed up on that list and more.

  But apparently not, because he dismissed me with a kiss and a wink and nothing more than a promise of later.

  I couldn’t hold back the excitement as the morning travelled by at a snail’s pace. My foot was tapping under the desk as I worked through my logistics schedule for the coming weeks, mind wandering through the potentials all the while my clit jingled.

  I really was acting like a crappy employee, but I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

  Nobody can work effectively while they’re desperate to stuff a hand down their knickers. Not even me. Even though I’m learning my work ethic from Mr Work Ethic himself on a daily basis.

  Kristina was groaning across the office, frazzled as she slammed her keyboard in her preparations for the super meeting, and Kay was sighing loud as the printer reported a backlog.

  I should have been finalising my own paperwork, but instead I was all jitters and tingles.

  My mouth was dry when we all filed into the meeting room, barely meeting Jackson’s eyes as he took his seat at the head of the table.

  I listened as intently as I could manage as the head of warehousing kicked off the quarterly recap, scanning through my printed minutes in a bid to anticipate when I’d have to put my crappy employee foot forward.

  It came quicker than I expected. We were barely into the previous meeting’s round up when Jackson’s mobile phone blinked and whistled on the table top.

  He gave an apology to the room and got to his feet, instructing the department heads to continue in his absence as he took an urgent client logistics call.

  And then he looked across at me with the twinkle in his eyes that always set my pulse racing.

  “Miss Morris, if you could please accompany me. There may be some questions about your division.”