CHAPTER FOUR
Daisy
Usually Tristan and I never see each other because he’s traveling or working, busy running his company. So at seven, I sat down in the main dining room, expecting another meal alone, some quiet time to myself. But suddenly the big man appeared in the doorway, massive, looming, ominously handsome in a dark suit.
“Mr. Marks!” I cried out, surprised, biting my lip awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”
I flushed because expecting no one, I’d put on ridiculous clothes, figuring it didn’t make a difference. My t-shirt stretched across my boobs invitingly, hugging every curve while the skirt was so short that it stopped just a few inches below my puss.
And the big man stopped in the doorway, that straight nose wrinkling slightly. Oh my god, could he smell my pussy? I didn’t have on any underwear, none of my panties fit anymore. Oh shit, had the unmistakable scent of female nectar drifted to him?
But the dark man shook his head, visibly forcing himself back to reality.
“I just got back from some business, thought I’d eat at home,” he rumbled casually before seating himself at the head of the table, elegantly unfolding a napkin.
I’d nodded, embarrassed, slowly smoothing my skirt over my thighs. But like an awkward child I began babbling about school, talking about anything just to fill the silence, bits and bobs of nothing really. Except that Tristan was listening.
“Who is this Mr. Ranger?” he interrupted casually, too casually. Oh no, I’d done it again. The flicker in his eye, the tight set of his jaw, indicated that my guardian sensed another alpha male, another dominant masculine force in my life.
“He’s no one,” I assured him quickly, but couldn’t resist the opening. “Mr. Marks, would you mind talking with Mr. Ranger about a potential donation to the school?”
That’s when Tristan threw his head back, laughing like he’d heard the funniest joke in the world.
“What?” I asked, looking around. What was so hilarious?
But the big man merely shook his head, like I’d provided him with the perfect opening.
“So long as you get an A in his class, I’d be happy to help,” he growled, looking at me meaningfully. I flushed. I’d never thought that there were backdoors to good grades, I thought you worked hard, studied, did all the reading, and that meant you’d do well on the tests. But evidently, there’s more than one path through life and opportunities were unfolding before me. Somehow my little world had just expanded in an eye-popping manner, becoming ten times bigger than before. Because when Tristan ordered me to stand up and bend over, baring my puss to him, I couldn’t help but obey.
“Mr. Marks, it’s wrong,” I whispered as I slowly slid my chair back, our eye contact electric.
But the dark slash across his cheeks and the hungry look in his eyes couldn’t be denied.
“You’re not my ward anymore,” he ground out, and that was true. I was eighteen now, an independent adult in the eyes of the State, so technically there was no legally binding relationship. Besides, I wanted to. I couldn’t say no to a man so alpha, so demanding, so delicious. So I bent over immediately, the smell of my female cream already thick in the air, making his nostrils twitch, my pussy already moist, plush and engorged.
“Here Mr. Marks,” I said softly, my head between my legs as I spread my knees a bit. “It’s yours.”
And I could feel his gaze on me, scorching my kitty as I wiggled it a bit, baiting him.
“More?” I giggled, and then gasped as the first stream of hot jizz hit the backs of my thighs. Had he really? Oh my god, he had. His dick was out, pulsing and heavy, and Tristan stroked it madly, groaning as he milked his pole, the jism erupting in spurt after spurt. Holy fuck, there was just so much. It positively drenched my skin, and I was stock still in shock before coming to my senses.
“Higher, higher,” I pleaded and Tristan obliged. He aimed his dick upwards until the tip was almost brushing my clit and spurted again, heaving the last few ejaculations straight onto my pussy. Holy shit, it was so wrong. So absolutely, devastatingly wrong. This man was my guardian, or former guardian to be exact. Even still, he was at least twenty years older than me, double my age, and I lived in his house. There have to be rules against this, right?
But even if there are rules, there are no rules for emotions, because I wanted it with a knowing thrill through my frame, a delicate shiver in my cunt. I’d been expecting a quiet meal at home, alone with the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the corner, and instead I’d been bathed in my guardian’s seed, the hot jism spurting against my thighs, running down my legs.
And oh god, oh god, it was so wrong. So absolutely wrong in every way, and yet the temptation was so strong, pulling me hard, making my body quiver. How could one man do this to me? How had I been transformed into a willing, nubile siren, desperate for Mr. Marks? I had to stop. This had to stop, but I wasn’t sure how.
So later, I trembled under the spray of the shower later, eyes closed, letting the steaming water pound against my body, re-living the dinner in my mind. It shouldn’t have felt good, Mr. Marks’s jism on my skin should have repulsed me, should have made me jump back in horror, calling 9-1-1 immediately. But instead, I’d loved it. I’d eaten it up, showing him my pussy, begging him to pulse against my hole. What the hell was wrong with me? Did I want to get pregnant?
Holy shit, I couldn’t. We couldn’t, this was playing with fire. My mom would roll over in her grave if she knew this was happening, that I’d let Tristan touch me, that I wanted him to touch me. I was letting down my mother’s sacred memory, desecrating her grave with my actions. But the thing is, I was dying for more. I wanted to taste, to touch, to experience the physical with a real man, and Tristan was all that … in spades.