As if it can keep my unruly nature contained, I pull my coat tight, tight, all the way up my chin, hiding as much skin as possible so Mr. Jones can't see that I've become flushed in his presence. Normally the dreadful throbbing between my legs comes from idleness. Being left to my own devices for too long.This is different. His sheer masculinity is causing the ache this time.None of the men in town have inspired this twisting ripple in my belly. Not ever. Not even close. It's only when I look at Mr. Jones do I think inexcusable thoughts. Such as...Would I be able to breathe with him on top of me?What would his hands feel like on my knees, the insides of my thighs, while pushing them open?How much hair does he have on his big chest? Surrounding his sex?God. It's humiliating."How did you get past the walls?" Mr. Jones drawls, though there is an underlying sharpness to his question. "They are built to keep trespassers out."The way he bites off the final word makes me gulp. "Would
There is no way in hell she's going to agree to be my live-in mistress.Not even for a single night.Mainly, I made the proposition because it amuses me to watch her cower inside that coat. A very expensive coat. And that tells me everything I need to know. Julia is probably a former rich girl who got herself pregnant and was cast out on the streets by her disapproving family. I'm surprised she's managed to hang onto the nice coat, considering the lawlessness of Harding these days. It should have been stolen by now.Her innocence certainly was.But not her scruples, apparently.Look at how she clutches at the sides of her jacket, giving me that prim and proper expression? The rich girl still hasn't learned her place, despite her obvious hardships. She might be fucking beautiful, but she's buttoned up. A prude. How any man convinced her to lie with him is beyond me. But...I find I'd like to track the fucker down and choke him for not stepping up and handling his responsibilities.For d
"Yes, girl. There is coffee, but it isn't made. I prefer whiskey in the evenings.""Oh, I'll gladly make it, thank you," she breathes, brightening. Twisting something inside of me. Something like guilt for tearing up her letter.Damn, I wish I'd read it now. It might have given me information about her. I find I'd like to know...everything. But I don't want her to get the wrong impression that I give a shit. When I show compassion, that's when people take advantage. That's when they pounce. When they begin to see an advantage to knowing me, having my sympathies.Not going to happen this time."Is there somewhere I can put Curtis?" she asks."Curtis," I repeat, clearing my throat. "Yes. There is a room beneath the stairs." I jerk my chin in that direction. "It was a nursery when I moved in, though the crib has been replaced by a regular bed. Will that work for him?""Considering he's been sleeping on stacked boxes, I'd say so." She's almost cheerful while imparting that dreadful piece
"Are you always this optimistic?""No. Sometimes I have to fake optimism until the real stuff kicks in." She shakes her head, shrugs. "That's everyone, though, isn't it?""No." I've never felt like more of an ogre than I do in front of this ray of sunshine. Yet I only want to move closer and bask in the warmth. Instead, I grip the edge of the kitchen island to keep myself stationary. Lest she know she's getting to me. That the soft way she shares herself, her unclouded philosophies, is eroding the concrete slab that guards my insides, leaving me vulnerable—a feeling that simply doesn't work for me. "But I can only speak for myself. I'm alone here. I don't exactly get a chance to observe a lot of human behavior.""Is that by choice?""Yes," I say, too harshly, making her inhale quickly."You weren't always..." She trails off, shaking her head."I wasn't always what?""Hardened."My heart starts to beat faster. "How do you know?""I don't," she says quickly, staring down into her coffee
Her fingers begin popping open the buttons of her coat, one by one, her teeth buried in that bottom lip. And Jesus, she wasn't playing me. This is happening. She's going to keep her word. She's treating me to the world's most innocent strip tease and somehow the slow removal of the coat turns me on more than if she was removing silk lingerie.It doesn't escape me that her fingernails are nubs and her hands are slightly dirty, nicked and red in spots. Guilt begins to creep in slowly, but when she drops the coat, lust comes swinging in like a wrecking ball."Oh fuck." My balls squeeze painfully and I have to concentrate on not ejaculating against my fly at the sight of her juicy tits, the generous swells of her hips. She's in need of a few meals, but in no way is she skinny. She's compact and curvy. Delicious. The pale blue dress she's wearing does not fit her at all. It's a rag that hides nothing. Not the big, beautiful tits about to spill free of the soaked material, nor her thighs, w
Pain claws at my insides. A foreign kind of pain.It's more like an invasion of pressure. Everywhere. It plagues my loins, my tummy, the walls of my sex. There's a definite stretching there, my flesh hurrying to accommodate Ramsy's larger than normal shaft. And of course I know he's well above average. I work in a factory with women twice my age and all they talk about is men and sex. They laugh and tell me to cover my ears, no idea that the act of intercourse, the wild tangle of two people mating, has always made my panties damp in my factory suit. Their stories replay in my head at night before I fall asleep, wedged in between prayers for forgiveness.I can't help it.I can't contain my wicked nature at all times. It's taxing.For a few moments, I accept this as my punishment. The pain. The fact that I've just had the barrier of my virginity torn by a man with a far above average penis size—it must be nine or ten inches! But then...oh then, the pain begins to recede and another issu
"Daddy," I whine, working my hips feverishly, my hands fisted in the back of his shirt, his back muscles raking against my wrists. The slide of his shaft over that sensitive nub is making me feel funny. Shaky. Out of control. And I hurl myself toward the horizon, wanting to know what it looks like. Wanting the complete picture. "Please, please, please," I chant, digging my heels into his tightly muscled, pistoning buttocks. "Ramsy.""That sweet pussy of yours is starting to juice me. Tight and tighter, tight and tighter," he pants into my ear, rifling himself in and out of me faster, harder. "My God, you can't be real. I'm going to blow. Come on that dick now, girl. Fucking bathe me in it. From tip to ball sack. Do it. Need it everywhere. All over me."Permission.No, not permission. An order. From my Daddy.Yes.I lose all power in my neck and sob brokenly, my loins twisting savagely, tummy seizing under the onslaught of pleasure. It's enormous. Like being hit by a meteor from the he
Watching Julia vanish out of my sight, I feel as though the world is crumbling beneath my feet. She's the girl. She's...the girl I caught at the last possible second all those years ago? That's where my sense of recognition came from. There was something about her glowing optimism and soulful hazel eyes that prodded my memory, but she's grown up and turned into a woman. My attraction to the woman blotted out recollections of the girl. Blotted out everything—especially my humanity. My decency. My conscience.My God.I just fucked that teenage virgin like a wild animal in heat.Goaded her into calling me Daddy.Came inside of her without protection.The worst part is, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I don't even think she would make it two steps inside my front door before I was pumping my cock between her thighs. Not now. Now when I've discovered how unbelievably tight her pussy is. The kind of tight that rules a man's fucking life, makes him change his ways. Addicts him.