Page 9 of Nine Week Nanny
The scrape of foil fills the air, sharp and practiced, while I rock against his thigh, desperate for him to hurry. My nipples brush his chest with every shallow breath, my thighs trembling with the pause that feels like torture.
This is insane. I don’t know this man, but my whole body is screaming for him.
He shoves his boxers down, rolls the condom on without ever looking away from me. That stare makes my stomach drop. Wordless, feral, like he’s already inside my head.
His fingers slip back between my thighs, pushing my thong aside and sliding into me. His fingers curl just right, while his thumb grinds my clit.
My skull knocks against the door as a cry rips out of me.
“You’re going to come before I even get in you.”
“Then fuck me already.”
He pulls out his fingers slowly, dragging a needy whimper from my throat as my hips chase him. He drags my thong down, then the blunt head of his cock presses at my soaked entrance, heavy and hot, making my knees buckle.
“You feel that?” His voice scrapes low, rough enough to sand me raw.
I bite my lip and nod, rocking forward just enough to hear him groan.
“Good girl.”
He teases me first, dragging through my slick folds, up over my clit. I jolt at the contact, my hips pumping, needing for more, desperate for friction and pressure.
“You want it,” he growls, circling me with his cockhead. “Say it.”
“I want it. Please.”
He pushes his cock in slowly, stretching me inch by inch until the burn turns into a gasp. Then he buries himself in one brutal thrust that knocks the air out of me.
“Oh, fuck?—”
His hand locks on the back of my neck, pinning me to the door as he pounds into me. Every thrust slams me harder against the wood, the sound of skin meeting skin sharp in the quiet. My nails dig deep into his shoulders.
“I can feel you clenching, begging for more.”
“Yes, more. You feel so good.”
Seven months without this, and my body doesn’t care that he’s a stranger. He slams in deep, and it’s everything. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. The sound that rips out of me doesn’t even sound like mine.
He gives what I’m demanding, driving fast, relentlessly. My breath stutters with every stroke.
The rhythm builds until my whole body coils tight. His hand moves lower, and a jolt shoots through me when his fingers slide farther than I expect.
“Wait—” The word falls out on a gasp as he slicks back and brushes a place no one’s ever touched. Heat bolts through me, shocking, confusing, almost too much.
He pauses just long enough for me to know he’s gauging. His mouth is at my ear, voice rough. “You’re pulsing around my cock even harder. I know you like it. Do you want it?”
I should say no. I should tell him to stop. That’s not sex. That’s not what I do. But the spark of sensation ricochets everywhere, sharper than anything I’ve ever felt, and a broken whimper tears out of me. My body clenches tighter around him, greedy.
“Yes,” I whisper, almost disbelieving.
“That’s it.” His voice is rough at my ear. He stills, breath hot against my skin. “I won’t push further unless you tell me to.”
The words detonate inside me, shame and hunger colliding. I don’t want more. Not there. Not now.
But I wantthis. The way it sharpens everything, the way it makes me quake. “That’s good. Just like that. Touch me like that.”
He stills, his mouth hot against my neck. “I’ll stop if you want me to. You say the word.”
