Chapter 8

Lucas

The moonlit kitchen rockets around me, like I’m on some psychedelic drug I can’t shake. Maggie Marshall’s taut pussy clamps and trembles on me, and my head threatens to explode, so I stop moving and let her gush. Her body quivers and I plant my hands, one on her shoulder and one on her waist, steadying her.

When she’s finally done convulsing on me, I gently draw my massive dick from inside of her. Instantly, I’m clear-headed and reality crashes down around me.

She’s not “Maggie.” She’s the new nanny. Fuck.

Maggie twists and stares back at me with those piercing gray eyes. Her hair is everywhere, wild and curly like something Tina Turner would wear, and her lips are swollen from our earlier kissing.

I want to stop. We should.

But there’s no way that I can.

“Get on the kitchen table,” I command Maggie in a rough whisper. The fabric of her negligee billows and rolls around her ass, tugging from side to side, from thigh to thigh. I stroke my cock and ogle her ass as she climbs on hands and knees on the table, then rolls onto her side and then her back.

Her head raises, and she nips at her lower lip when she sees what I’m doing.

“How do you want me?”

“Just like that.”

I dive down between her thighs and find her slit. My tongue flicks out and divides her folds, scooping at the nub on top.

“Lucas,” she calls to me, her voice a desperate whisper, and I tear away from her cunt, scowling.

“Don’t speak,” I remind her in a hiss. “Be absolutely silent.”

I pry her thighs farther apart and get back to work on polishing her pearl. I’m single-minded in my task and feel her pussy quiver and unleash again within a matter of seconds. I rub at my drenched chin and sit up, almost angry at her for coming so damn fast.

“That was less than thirty seconds,” I say. I forget about being quiet.

“I know.” Maggie pouts up at me like a fucking angel. “I come really fast when I think about you. I don’t know why.”

I pause, wondering how many times she’s played with herself that she could possibly know that, and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. But I can’t stop. I know that much already. It’s over. It’s been decided. I have to fuck Maggie senseless tonight.

Reaching out, I grasp one strap of her negligee and tear it down the curve of her shoulder, exposing her large, dark pink nipple. I lean and take the plump tit into my mouth, sucking hard, making her buck her luscious hips against me. I pin her down from between her thighs and keep sucking, then tear the other strap down and suck on that one. I can’t get enough of her. I haven’t even grabbed her ass yet.

I drag one nipple between my teeth and she whimpers for me. “Please,” she blubbers, and I oblige her poor, hungry pussy. I fill her again and pump with a deep hunch in my back, still huddled down around her bouncing breasts. I bite at them and suck at them and plunge into her again and again, mindless, lost.

Intense pressure pounds at the base of my dick, and my fists tighten on the straps of Maggie’s negligee.

A soft ripping sound fills the air as the negligee splits and tears away from Maggie’s body, completely revealing her naked flesh to me. My mind percolates and overflows with the visual. She’s so perfect and beautiful. I rear back and hold her hips so that I can stand up and look down at her, watching her breasts bounce, smoothing my hands over her muscular hips, her toned tummy.

It’s too much. I have to let go. She’s too much for me. What a woman…

Cum spills from me in hard, hot lashes, filling her. I hadn’t meant to come inside her, but it happened so quickly, seeing her totally naked, ripping the silk, it all caught me off-guard, and now here I am, pulsing my load deep into her. Fuck. Fuuuck, it feels good, though, and I seethe into her snatch several times, then I finally pull out. Everything tingles and sparkles and there’s only the sound of my panting breath.

The kitchen is otherwise unbearably quiet.

Maggie clears her throat and draws her ruined nightgown around her nude body again.

My dripping cock is released from her pussy, and I quickly stuff my bedraggled soldier into the red tartan pajama pants I still haven’t taken off.

Maggie sits up and clamps her lips together, eyes shining up at me uncertainly.

The right words are easy enough to know. “I’m sorry,” I tell her with a mild wince. Not really, though. “I lost control.”

“Me, too,” Maggie murmurs, sliding off the kitchen table. “I should wipe this down.”

“No, no, no,” I tell her, reaching out to touch her shoulder and then recoiling. Maybe we had better stop with the touching before someone gets pregnant. “I’ll clean it. Please. This is my fault.”

“I should have been wearing more,” Maggie disagrees, shaking her airy golden curls around her shoulders.

“No. I’m the man,” I say. “I should have been in control. Please, Maggie. Go to bed. It’s after midnight, and we both have long days tomorrow. I’ll clean this up.”

She hesitates, then nods and scurries away. I watch her go, shameless. Her butt bounces girlishly under that peach silk.

“Maggie?” I call to her.

She freezes and glances over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Are you on the pill or anything?”

There’s two beats of silence, and then a quiet but firm, “No. I’m not.” With that, she pivots and is gone.

I stay behind to clean up the kitchen. I find her bowl of cold chicken soup on the counter and cringe as I dump it all back into the pot in the fridge. The poor little thing came down here for some soup, and I practically tackled her. I twisted her up against the sink and took her from behind, then ate her pussy on the kitchen table and came inside her like a caveman.

But that will have to stay preserved in my spank bank forever.

Because Astrid would drag me feet-first back into court if she knew I was fucking the nanny.

I want to call her Maggie, the sweetheart, the orphan, the child psych major, but she’s not Maggie. She’s the nanny. I need to remember that. Keep it light. Impersonal.

Because Graytech can’t have my mind balls-deep in a nanny.

And the kids can’t deal with the psychological burden of me fucking a nanny.

We have to stop. We need to stop. She said it herself, right before I slid myself in between those tight, perfect pussy lips. Just one time. We both need this. We deserve it.

I sweep disinfectant over the kitchen table, vividly conjuring her naked body jostling against my thrusts, her whimpers and her thick thighs, her pussy clamping and gushing. Those hard nipples in my mouth. That juicy clit.

I’m already hard again, but I shake it off and put the cleaning supplies away, heading back upstairs.

We can’t do that again.

Astrid has been doing well lately, but an upset like that might send her back over the edge. And anyway, I have to focus my attention on tomorrow, on product pitches and budget reports.

I can never fuck Maggie again.

Just once. Because we both needed it.