The Nanny Page 15

  I get his shirt open, and his chest lights my fire more than anything else. I want his skin. I want his curves and his muscles and his contracting abs. We peel each other’s clothes off at the same time. When he glances up to look at me, we gaze on each other in deepest longing.

  My bare breasts touch his chest. Nothing could ever come closer to heaven than that beautiful communion of bodies and hearts in the darkness. The fire warms my back and sends its heat into every part of me. It melts me before his touch to be ready for his hardness.

  He pushes me back to stand before him. I get to my feet, and he unfastens my jeans to undress me in front of the fire. I keep both hands on his shoulders and my eyes on his face. He’s everything I ever wanted, and now he’s mine.

  He slides my pants down and holds them for me to step out. Then he strokes his powerful hands up and down my thighs. I struggle for every breath, I want him so bad. His hands drop down to my knees, and one finger traces up the inside of my leg to the damp nest between my petals.

  I sigh in delight. He flicks my lips once, then delves deeper to the saturated depths where I hunger for him. He stirs my juices and rubs the engorged knob of my clitoris. My knees wobble, and I have to steady myself on his shoulders.

  He gazes up at me. He takes in every nuance of my expression. He can see me in the firelight. He knows I’m all his. He feels my wetness and my throbbing desire.

  His shoulders flex when he moves his hand and arm. He fingers deeper into my channel. His thumb nags my clit while his thick fingers plunge into my delicious opening. Oh, yes! My whole being screams, Oh, yes!

  He bends down and kisses my stomach—lower to my triangle of hair, and farther down to where his fingers quicken me to everlasting pleasure. He lashes his tongue across my flaming tissues. Oh, please.

  He dives deep between my legs, and his tongue slithers into my most secret places. I can’t stand this. I want his mouth taking me to the skies. I grab his head, but he finds his own way. He discovers my most sensitive areas and sends me into a quivering frenzy.

  I ride down on his face. His fingers bump to the knuckle against my bones, and my nectar gushes over his hands. I need this so bad. I can never get enough.

  The higher I moan, the deeper he munches into my center. He devours my clit and slathers his saliva over my throbbing lips. I throw back my head and whine for him. I can’t stop the rising tide of bliss washing over me.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I explode into mindless orgasm. I shove his face in tight against my pussy. His fist clamps around my ass to hold me in position, and he attacks me in all his power. I scream my fulfillment to heaven, but he won’t stop until he milks the last drop of delirious delight from my gash.

  The moment I finish, he stands up in front of me. My head spins and my knees sag, but he lets go of me to tear his pants open. His face and hands smell of fruity perfume, and when he kisses me, his naked shaft brushes against my stomach.

  I can’t think. He’s right there in front of me, towering, massive, unstoppable. His prick whispers its dangerous hardness into the delicate softness of my pussy. It knows where it wants to go. Can I handle it after the orgasm he just gave me?

  I don’t have time to wonder. His arms close around me, and his fragrant mouth covers my lips in a ravenous kiss. He lifts me off the ground and scoops me up in his arms. He goes down on his knees before the fire and lays me out in the flames’ mysterious heat.

  I gaze up at his face contorted in smoldering passion. He exists somewhere beyond human thought. He seethes with masculine power, and his cock stands out strong and sure from his muscular body.

  He leans down to kiss my stomach. He kisses up to my breast and back down to my crotch before he returns to my mouth. His iron frame falls on top of me, and he radiates a hotter heat into me than the fire itself.

  I need him so much. I take him in my arms, and I kiss him to speed on to the next mind-blowing climax. He’s ready, and he takes me there with him. He burrows between my legs, and my pleasure-softened flesh opens to receive him.

  His hardness fits into my spongy channel like it was made for it. My tight anatomy closes around him, and my spasms stroke his throbbing shaft to twitching hardness. He pumps in to pound his hips against my thighs. Oh, he feels so good in there. I don’t want anything else.

  He scoops his hands under my shoulders and holds me up against him. He braces his knees into the carpet and thrusts to bounce me up and down. His nuts slap my ass, and our skin sticks together before tearing apart again. My wetness drips around his shaft to spackle on my ass.

  He drives in deep and stays there for a long, terrible moment. Then he screws his hips in circles to drive me out of my mind. I can’t stand it when he does that. I cave my legs wide to pull him down deep inside, and his prick touches my deepest pleasure spots. I heave my hips up to match his rhythm. He groans into my ear, but my own tortured shrieks drown him out as I wind up for another crushing peak.

  All at once, he rears back and carries me with him. He sits up straight and drags me off the floor to sit on his lap. My legs drape around him, and his cock strikes in deeper than ever.

  I can’t stop the climax rushing to overtake me. I straddle him and gallop to my inevitable conclusion. He pounds up into me from bellow. His lips lock on me, and his eyes delve into my soul. I see to the heart of him, and I love him beyond comprehension.

  His groans turn to agonized cries, and we harmonize in a symphony of Earth-shattering ecstasy. Every penetration of his shaft sends me reeling into the stratosphere on one explosive climax after another. His jizz shoots into my depths, but the orgasmic moment just goes on and on without end. One peak follows another. I never experienced anything like this.

  His spunky concoction dribbles out of me. His sweat stings all over my skin, but I never wanted him more than right now. I want him inside me forever like this, rolling on one spiking orgasm after another.

  His lips pop off mine, and he gasps out the words. “Kira. Kira, my love.”

  I snatch quick breaths between aching thrusts. “Baby. Oh, baby, please don’t stop. I need it so bad.”

  “Oh, yeah. Oh, God, you feel so good.”

  He eases me back onto the floor, and my limbs fall aside to the floor. I lie exposed and open to him, but he doesn’t go soft. He leans back on his knees, and his cock still throbs between my sweet lips. He kisses me, and those words arouse me the heights of mystical rapture. “My Kira. My love.”

  “I love you so much. I love you more than anything. I never imagined I could love anyone like this. I never want to stop loving you.”

  I stroke my fingertips down his chest. I have to touch him. I have to love him. I have to be with him and heal him and make him mine. He’s my only love, my only future, my only fulfillment.

  The End

  NEW SECRET BABY ROMANCE: THE SECRET

  A Secret Baby Romance

  Prologue

  She smiled at me and then sat down slowly on my lap. Not with her legs to one side, the way you might expect. With her crotch pressed to mine, knees spread far apart. I almost lost control of myself. She was leaning against me, her body thrusting against mine as my cock throbbed and ached and longed for her. But then something changed.

  As she nestled there and pressed her round, firm breasts against me, pushing through the Tommy Hilfiger cotton shirt and warming me, I realized something.

  I don’t want to do this anymore.

  The pink lights, the girls, the makeup. The coldness lurking in the back of her eyes as I kissed her, even as she feigned longing. They all made me feel, well, like a user. And like I was being used.

  It was as if the light switched on in my head somewhere or like my life came into focus. To put it bluntly, I felt like shit. I had been living the playboy dream for the last year or two, and it was starting to lose its glamor.

  I moved my head to the side, trying to tactfully disengage myself from her earnest but insincere attentions. Looked round.

  “H
ey! West! Another drink?” A voice called out somewhere beside my left ear. I turned slowly to locate the speaker. Man, I was drunk. Located the speaker. My friend Alex. My so-called friend. I cleared my throat to reply.

  “Okay.”

  The girls here are discreet as well as stunning. She seemed to sense I wasn’t going that way tonight and slipped quietly off my lap. I would normally have gone all the way and beyond with her—she made me feel incredible, and I wished I could do the same. But not tonight.

  I stood up and walked away with all the dignity I could gather—I can be awfully dignified when I’m drunk. I joined Alex.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just stressed.”

  “Stressed? Here? In this place?” Alex laughed. “You’re kidding me.”

  I sighed. “Alex, I have a lot to think about.” That was true. I did. My dad—owner of West Incorporated—was increasingly relying on me. I didn’t know if I could do what he needed. That was probably what drove me here in the first place. The pressure and the mistrust in myself to meet it. But now…

  Now I’ve been doing this for too long. I’m twenty-nine, and I’m a responsible adult. I’ve been with too many women in clubs like this, had too many evenings blurred by imported vodka and fancy cocktails. I want something different. I want to find love.

  Yeah, I was drunk. And when I’m drunk, I tend to think these things. My dad would tell me it was all nonsense. Women will only want me for my money and my car, and I should use them—they would for sure be using me. Dad was full of bright ideas like that.

  But now, tonight, I didn’t want to believe it anymore. I was ready for something new.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jackie

  “I sometimes wonder why I do this to myself.”

  I sighed. It was cold outside—late winter, early spring. I shivered and ducked into the warmth of the kitchen.

  “Dad?”

  No answer. I sighed. I hadn’t expected one. I hoped he was sober.

  I do love Dad, and I can even understand why he does this. I just wish he wouldn’t sometimes.

  My dad drinks. A lot. He lived here for the last ten years—since he and Mom split when I was in my late teens. Now I’m in my mid-twenties, and he is still drinking. Still holding down a job, though, which is something that makes me happy. He works for an old friend at the local garage.

  “Jackie?” he called back.

  Whew. He’s awake. Sounds sober too. Great!

  “Dad?”

  “There you are. I thought I heard someone come in. You cold?”

  I nodded, rubbing my hands down my arms for warmth. “You have a fire in there?”

  “I do,” he commented. “Nice and warm.”

  “Good.”

  I came to join him in the small sitting room, where there was, indeed, a fire burning. Knelt down and held my hands to the orange flames. When I looked up, my dad was watching me. Sometimes I wonder why I do this to myself. When I saw the look of tenderness in his eyes as he looked at me kneeling there, I knew.

  I love him and he loves me. That’s all there is to it.

  “How was your day?” he asked gently.

  “Good,” I said, nodding. Well, it was okay. My job is tough, but it’s not too bad. And it is the first step on a ladder I want to climb.

  I finished college five years ago, where I majored in child psychology. Now, I work as the psychologist at the reformatory. It’s a really demanding job, but I enjoy it. And it doesn’t have to be where I stop, careerwise.

  I’d love my own practice one day. I just can’t open it here, in the small town where I was raised, since there isn’t an opening for another psychologist here: we already have two and they suit the community’s needs. And until Dad gets back on his feet, here is where I have to stay.

  So, until then, I’m stuck.

  “How was your day?” I ask. I look at him closely while he answers. He’s a bit gray and tired looking, and his hand shakes a little. I don’t think it’s the drink—I think he’s hungry.

  “Dad?” I ask. “Did you eat lunch at work?”

  “There were a lot of cars in the garage today,” he sidesteps. “I spent lots of time looking over this one Toyota…”

  “Dad,” I interrupt. “Answer me. Did you eat?”

  “Jackie…” he sighs and pulls a face at me.

  “Okay. I know what that means. No. Well, I’m making dinner then.”

  “Jackie,” he protests weakly. I ignore it.

  “Dad, you should start being more responsible. You really should eat. Three meals a day. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Oh, you know what I think about that…”

  “Yes, I know what you said the doctor should go and do. But I don’t think he can. He might have read a lot about anatomy, but some things are anatomically impossible.”

  He chuckled. I heard him as I made dinner. Good. I was glad to have cheered him up. I sometimes think that if he was more cheerful he wouldn’t have to escape his life the way he does.

  Later, as we sat and ate together—I join him when I visit to make sure he finishes everything—he reached out and touched my wrist. I looked into those rheumy blue eyes and smiled. He’s still stunning—at least I think so. His hair was white and his face thinner than it should be, his eyes bloodshot. He had the thickened veins and the swollen eyes and face of someone who drinks far too much most of the time, but I could still see the hawkish, handsome man I have called father all my life. And I loved him.

  “What?”

  “Jackie,” he sighed. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “No,” I agreed. “I want to.”

  When his eyes looked back into mine I could see the depth of emotion. I wish I couldn’t—seeing him sad makes me sad too.

  “I wish I could do more, you know.”

  “We all do what we can,” I said softly.

  I meant it. I believe that. No one does anything besides what they know how to do at the time. Sometimes our skills sets are just a bit small. His skills set consisted of hiding most of what he felt under anger or under booze. I was just grateful I’d learned other ways to handle how I felt.

  He sighed. “I wish I could do more.”

  “I know,” I said gently. “I also wish I could.”

  I left shortly afterward, my heart heavy. At least I had made sure he ate.

  I drove home into the darkness of a winter sky, the wind cold beyond the confines of my car. I stopped outside the apartment block where I rented—in a nice area of the town—and slipped out, folding my coat around me tight as I went. Inside, I took it off and, shivering, turned on the heat.

  “Whew.”

  I leaned against the kitchen wall and wished, not for the first time, that I could cheer up.

  It was mainly Dad that upset me. That, and the things I saw at work. Seeing so much anger, pain and fear in children was really distressing. Facing up to the fact that we had a society that gave so many people so few options was even more distressing.

  “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

  I sighed. Made myself tea. Sat down and drank it. I looked idly at my phone while I did so. Then I set it aside, restlessly. Looked out of the window instead. The sky outside was gray, torn with wind and the setting sun leaked through, a fierce amber.

  There is so much beauty in the world.

  I closed my eyes. My grandma used to say that there wasn’t much use in bewailing all the bad things in your life. She always believed the things you focused on would multiply.

  Well, Granny, in that case, I’m focusing on that sunset. I wouldn’t mind a few more nice things like that in my life.

  If she had been there, I could almost imagine her answer. You don’t go shopping without a list. What do you actually want?

  I drank the tea and thought about that. What would I want in my life? I had a career and a sense that it would grow. My boss spoke well of me and would give me a good review. That was the thing I wanted most�
��a fulfilling career path. Then…what else? I had Dad. I wanted him to get better, or at least get happier and more stable.

  But what do I want for myself?

  I sighed. I had a man in my life a while back. He was hypercritical and unkind. I had really tried my best to make things work, but Luke had dragged at me, wearing me down to the point I had wished I could join Dad in his oblivion. I was not entirely sorry things had ended.

  I don’t think I want that again. But do I? I’m twenty-eight and I haven’t really thought about what I want from life.

  In my heart, I knew I wanted a child. I had no idea how that was going to show up in my life, though. I was single and I didn’t, to be honest, have much of a desire to alter that. I could support a child on my salary—just. I would have to wait until I was more established before I put serious thought into that. I wouldn’t want my child to grow up with anything less than the best I could offer her or him. It would be pretty tough to pay school fees on my salary.

  “Well, who knows. But that’s what I’d like. A child, and yes, love in my life.”

  I knew now. If the magic was in the knowing, I’d done the first step.

  Now I should really think about doing some work and then go to bed. I yawned. It was ten o’ clock and I was tired. I needed to wake up at seven tomorrow.

  I was busy washing dishes when my phone made a noise. I took it out and looked at it. It was Ashley, a colleague. She sent a text.

  Don’t forget about the meeting tomorrow evening!

  Dammit. I texted back.

  Thanks. I had forgotten. See you there.

  I slipped my phone into my pocket and tried not to swear. I had forgotten about the meeting—it was with the head teacher and a representative from the council. We were going to talk about the budget, of all inspiring things.

  “At least it’s tomorrow. And not tonight.”

  Of all the things I could think of, that was the most positive outlook I could bring to the school budget. I laughed.