Chapter 18
Brynn
We bolted upright and separated like we'd just been caught.
Shea plucked a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and gave it to the driver. Then he gave the driver a second one “to keep this quiet.”
The driver nodded. “Of course, sir. Thank you very much.”
Shea and I climbed out, and the car sped off.
Shea put his arm around me. We didn't say a word as we walked to the front door. He fished his keys from his pocket, opened the door, and let me step in first.
I watched as Shea closed and locked the door behind him. I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. I wondered if, being back in his own house, a moment of clarity might grip him—and keep him from making what could end up being a huge mistake?
It wasn't just that I was the kid's nanny. I lived here too, after all—he shared his house with me. We could still stop ourselves here and blame alcohol for our steamy little moment in cab. But if we couldn't stop ourselves from going too far, who knew how badly we might regret this night in the future?
Hell, I was starting to have second thoughts. But before I could do or say anything, Shea pressed himself into my rear.
“Couldn't keep my eyes off you all night,” he said. As we stood in the middle of the living room, he wrapped his huge arms around my front.
He planted his lips on my neck and sucked. I wilted under his touch.
“Mm,” he panted. “You taste so good, Brynn.”
From behind, he rubbed his hard bulge against me. Sensing his desire, the spot between my thighs grew damp and throbbed. If he kept teasing me like this, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold him back for long—so if clear heads were going to prevail, they had to do it now.
“Shea …” I gulped, my knees buckling.
“Yes, Brynn?” Shea teased as he slowly tugged the zipper at the back of my dress.
My voice was a quivering whisper. “Do you think … maybe … this could end up being a bad idea?”
He chuckled, and puffs of his breath tickled my sensitive neck.
“You said you wanted my hands all over you,” he said. “And that sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
Then there was a swish as the silk garment fell to my feet. I stood nearly naked in front of my former childhood crush, and current boss, wearing only heels and a thong.
He turned me around to face him. I covered my breasts in my hands. Shea's eyes traveled up and down my body, drinking me in.
“Wow,” he grumbled.
Without hesitation, he scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. My heels fell to the floor and our hot, juicy lips came together once again as Shea carried me to the sofa.
There's no turning back now.
The captain tossed me into the sofa's cushions. I dared to keep my breasts buried in my arms, but Shea wouldn't have it.
“Mine,” he roared possessively.
Overpowering me easily, Shea pried my hands from my tits and sucked at my nipples so hard I yelped out in pain—though a part of me loved his rough treatment of me, and loved it even more when he didn't let up.
His large hands ran up and down every inch of my bare skin. He pawed at me greedily, grabbing and pulling at my flesh, always wanting more, always taking more.
“You're so goddamn beautiful,” he growled once more. “I've wanted you for so long.”
His hand went between my legs and slid up my thighs. His fingers stroked against the crotch of my panties. We both knew it then—I was sinfully wet.
“You soaked your panties,” Shea muttered huskily. “Fuck, that's hot.”
The hockey player grabbed hold of my thong and yanked it down my legs. Without looking, he tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.
Shea grabbed my bottom and pulled me to the edge of the sofa. He knelt before me and parted my legs. I was so open, so exposed for him.
“Shea,” I moaned.
“Oh, wow.” He hungrily eyed my bareness and licked his lips. “Such a goddamn cute pussy, Brynn.”
Spreading me wide, Shea began to lick. Softly, gently, he used only the tip of his tongue to delicately trace my folds.
“Yes, yes,” I whispered, encouraging him to give me more.
His tongue flattened. Starting at my entry, Shea painted long, broad brushstrokes up my pussy—always reaching higher, higher, higher for my clit … yet always falling just short, leaving me gasping for air and mewling in agony.
“Please,” I whimpered. “Please, Shea!”
“Please what?” he teased, a sparkle in his eye.
“Give me your mouth …!”
He smiled.
Instead of his mouth, he gave me his finger.
I moaned, deep and guttural, as he stuck his thick finger past my folds and burrowed into my tightness.
“Oh my God,” I cried hoarsely, my inner muscles gripping at his finger uncontrollably.
And only then did Shea give me his mouth. The tip of his tongue found my clit, and he flicked my swollen and sensitive nub. With his finger buried in my hole, Shea French kissed my pussy, sloppily slurping at my wetness.
“Shea!” I howled, running my fingers over the sharp texture of his short hair.
With his mouth on my pussy, a cute smile tugged at Shea's lips—he really loved seeing me like this. And then harder, faster, his tongue lapped at my clit, while his fat finger cork-screwed in and out of my opening, hammering my g-spot again and again until—
I wailed, choking on air, “You're gonna make me come!”
He didn't let up. His wet muscle relentlessly thrashed and batted my clit, bringing me right up to the edge. He finger-fucked me harder, faster, dirtier—until the bright, shining ecstasy erupted from my core. My belly shook, my limbs trembled and flailed, and my screams of bliss belted out.
“Yes!”
***
When I managed to open my eyes again, the athlete was still crouched between my legs. He held his fingers up to his face, studying the juices that trickled and ran down his thick finger—my juices.
And then he wrapped his lips around his finger and sucked the cream right off.
A wildfire swept through my belly. It was such a naughty, filthy act to witness—and yet an undeniable turn on. I'd never had a lover worship my body like Shea … and now I truly felt like a Queen. His Queen.
“Shea,” I gasped, my stomach still twisting into knots. “I never knew you were so dirty.”
“Only for you. I love your taste, Brynn.”
His wild, hungry eyes shined in the darkened living room as he drank me up. He looked like a man who couldn't wait to wreck me, a man who needed to be balls-deep inside me. As far as I was concerned, he could have me anyway he wanted me. I sat up and unbuckled his belt and whipped it from his trousers.
Shea motioned for the upstairs. “Should we go to the bedroom first?” he asked as I pulled at his zipper.
“No,” I said. “I want you to fuck me, right here, on the couch.”
He growled with thick male desire. “God damn, Brynn.”
“Like that idea?” I sang. “Is it dirty enough for you?”
“I love it.”
I yanked and tugged at his trousers to peel them off his thick, tree-trunk thighs. With his trousers off, his cock rose, tenting his boxers comically high. I giggled and swiped his boxers to the ground—and then gasped.
Shea was hung.
His big dick sprang out before me, bouncing and swaying in the air with a mouth-watering heft. The masculine scent of his warm, salty flesh flooded my nostrils and hijacked my brain.
I wanted him, needed him, buried deep inside me. I didn't want him to waste any time. Shea could sense it. He pushed me onto my back and spread my legs over his shoulders. He glided his cock along my sopping wet folds, teasing me, wanting me to beg for it.
“Fuck me, Shea,” I whispered between my moans of anticipation. “Please, I want you inside me.”
With a groan, Shea set his tip at my entry.
Ever so slowly, Shea began to sink his weight into me.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I moaned, encouraging him to go faster, deeper.
The very tip of his manhood parted my folds and began to stretch me wider—when something made us both freeze in terror.
The large living room windows behind us were suddenly bathed in a blinding white light.
Then we heard the crunch of rubber tires on gravel, and the hum of a car engine nearing as it pulled into the driveway.
I recognized the sound of that car, of course.
Shea's ex-wife.
Shea jumped off me and crawled over the sofa to peek through the window blinds.
“Fuck, that's Cynthia's car,” he snarled. “What the hell is she doing here right now?”
He jumped off the couch and stepped into his boxers. I was almost too stunned to move—until I heard the sound of a car door opening and then slamming shut.
Eyes wide, I leaped off the couch, scooped my dress and heels off the floor, and ran for my bedroom upstairs.