Page 79 of Hired Help

I try to drag her underwear down but the elastic catches and I’m too eager to wait it out. I push the fabric aside and nudge the head of my cock into her, the movements of her body under me growing more frantic until I ease my full length inside her, gripping her thigh so tightly with my fingers that she whimpers, a cry I catch with my mouth, pressing my lips tight against hers.

“Is this what you like to do with my father?” I ask her, nuzzling into her hair, seeking her earlobe and sucking it into my mouth, laving it with my tongue. I rock my hips forward, getting deeper, settling into her until I’m fully encased. “Does the old man have to get you off quickly because he doesn’t have the stamina these days?”

“You’re the one who struggles to get me off,” she shoots back at me.

“Oh, yeah?” I reach under her blouse, inside her bra, fingers finding her hard nipple and giving it a savage tweak, watching the wince of pain contort her face. Doing it again, slower, watching as this time, her head tilts back, exposing her throat, while her muscles clench around me, pumping me like she can get off from just soaking.

I withdraw, gasping at the loss of her wet warmth but taking my pleasure from denying hers. There’s a glassy tint to her eye as she stares at me, her expression altering from pleading to snarling and back again, changing so fast it gives me whiplash.

Instead of entering her again, my cock slides along her folds, grinding against her, almost as good as being inside. When I slip too far, Brooke wraps her legs around me, centring me where it feels best for her and I can’t move, the joy of refusing her lost against the far greater signals of joy pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

“You can’t even find the hole,” she says, tilting her hips as she thrusts against my buttocks with her heel, trying to nudge me back inside. “How about a week’s worth of lessons? Just to get you started.”

“That’s a lot of lip for someone who can’t even get her arms free.”

I move my hand from her tits so I can hold her down with both as her struggles to escape increase until she’s panting from the effort.

This time, when I rub myself against her, she tilts her pelvis and I’m slipping inside, the passage so wet I don’t even need a guide.

I lift my torso, trying to remove the pressure against her clit, to deny her pleasure even as I increase mine, but she’s squirming again, wriggling and writhing until she gets part of what she needs. Not all but it must be close to enough as her eyes become steadily more glazed and her mouth sags open.

As it gapes, I lean forward, taking her bottom lip between my teeth, biting to hurt her, to mark her, to claim her as my cock finds its rhythm and plunges into her again and again, speeding to a savage stroke.

The need to have her naked breasts against me is overwhelming and I let go of her wrists with one hand, fumbling at the buttons of her blouse, giving up and tearing at the fabric when they don’t instantly obey my clumsy commands. Flipping her cups up rather than fiddling with the clasp.

My hand squeezes her tit, watching her face to see the moment she winces, recording the pressure so I release, then squeeze harder again, riding her up to the point of pain and keeping her there, edging her, so many pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place.

The ecstasy on her face, the way her breathing hitches and gasps, her eyelids hooding, her cheekbones flushing until they appear streaked with crimson warpaint, with blood.

All those months spent being careful, being cautious, not wanting to hurt her. I slam my cock into her, hard enough to sound like a clap, turning our fucking into a rapturous round of applause.

I tug the fabric farther apart, exposing her shoulder, exposing a bite mark.

My blood runs cold at the sight. My ears buzz like a fly’s trying to make an emergency landing.

I gave her permission, I know where she went, but the evidence of it still makes my heart seize. My body jerks like someone attached an electric wire.

“Who marked you?”

“I told you,” she says through gritted teeth, ecstasy banked up in her throat, squeezing out of her lungs, spilling into the air. “Your daddy says hello. Your daddy wants you to know you changed your mind too fucking late because I belong to him now. Better get your fun in before he takes exception to you fucking his bride.”

A roar surges from my throat, catching in her mouth as I crush my lips against it, desperate to stop her voice from clawing into my brain.

I fuck her, so hard, so fast, so rough that it feels like I’m possessed by another person. A wild man clinging fast to the tattered scraps of something he once thought belonged to him, learning too late it was a transitory delusion. Learning the truth only once his heart and soul were long gone.

Then her walls grip me, muscles spasming while she rides a wave of pleasure through to its stuttering, fluttering conclusion. I still, resting inside her while the convulsions grip me, exulting in the sensation that escaped her for so long.

And when it’s over, I start again, knowing it’s too much for her, watching her features pinch with the pain of nerve endings strung too thin, too near to the peak to appreciate such rough handling.

When I take that final thrust home, hauling on her shoulders to pump as high into her as possible, there’s a fleeting sense of peace, of fulfilment.

Her body and mine playing their joyous sympathy until we both sing.

Then the questions flow in to fill the gap.

I roll off her, my arms automatically pulling her close to me, still living in a past that can never be reclaimed, still looking out for their girl. I bury my face in the side of her neck, hiding from the light until I can regroup just the tiniest sliver. Gathering myself ready for a battle I no longer have the stomach to fight.

My thumb strokes against the curve of her hip, moving in wider circles until I’m brushing over her arse, finding the mark I put on her body. Even without looking, I can feel the puffiness of the damaged skin, trace out the shapes I cut with my knife.

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