CHAPTER ELEVEN

LAYNA

Five months later

I’ve got ninety-nine problems. No seriously. This fucking accounting assignment is fucking huge and fucking killing me.

Okay, and I’m a little grumpy.

What kind of sadist assigns ninety-nine accounting problems?

And it’s my night to cook. Shit.

I hope my roommate likes sandwiches. Again. It’s always sandwich night on my night to cook. Which is why I only have one night assigned to me, yet never manage more than bread. Sometimes, I toast it. That’s as far as my culinary skills have progressed.

I could probably distract my roommate by flashing him my boobs. Men are easy that way. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? Even though I’m dying for some D, I shouldn’t use sex to manipulate someone or get out of chores. That’s not exactly A+ adulting.

Take it easy. I’m just playing. My roommate likes to be manipulated. I’m still living with Rogan. As if I would flash my boobs to anyone else.

While my tuition for the semester was paid, room and board was not. I was able to transfer to online classes for the semester and stay in the cabin of love with the reclusive tow truck driver. Since I own the house, it made sense to stay where I didn’t need to pay rent. And get D whenever I’m dying for it. Win-win.

I never actually signed the title transfer. It’s still in a file in the office. But in Rogan’s heart, I own his house. It’s cute and weird, but whatever.

I have a job now, too. After I convinced Rogan to buy a better computer (by flashing my tits and telling him it would make my schoolwork easier since my classes were online) I began taking on some bookkeeping for some other small businesses in town, with excellent references from my employer. I use the opportunity to give them advice on how to better their businesses, which most of them ignore, but at least they are more organized. I haven’t steered anyone wrong yet, and once Mabel Hartley added a manicure station to her hair salon per my urging, she made enough profit to take that anniversary cruise she’d been wishing for with Mr. Hartley.

The people of this town are leaving too much money on the table. I have ideas. I’ve even told Rogan I’m considering running for mayor in a few years. Give me time, another few years and my MBA, and I’ll have this town wrapped around my finger and making profitable quarters.

I thought I would miss university life more, but after the number Alan pulled on me last semester, I’m content to walk away from friends who couldn’t wait to talk shit behind my back and shun me before they even talked to me about what was obviously strange behavior. Small-town life suits me better, even though the gossip machine runs much faster than the college one. It’s a different kind of gossip, I guess.

And for a self-proclaimed recluse, Rogan has a lot of friends. They were wary of me first—the whole being arrested for grand theft auto thing—but they came around when they saw how happy Rogan is with me. And how I intend to keep him that way.

When Rogan comes home, he’s sweaty and gross, but he’s still more appealing than these ninety-nine problems, so I join him in the shower five minutes after he gets in it. His face registers shock, and then pleasure as I slide to my knees.

I love all the things Rogan does to me with his cock, but I have a special place in my heart for taking him in my mouth. I like the control. I like making him lose control. And I love the silky weight of him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the head of him, over and over. Then gulp him down to the back of my throat.

He groans, a sound I like a lot. “Not so fast, sweetheart.” He pulls my face off him, his dick plopping out of my mouth. “Stop pouting and stand up.”

“But I want—”

“I know what you want, angel.”

My back is against the shower tile, my feet off the floor, before I realize what’s going on. At my entrance, Rogan’s long, thick cock is waiting. He fills me slowly, stretching me, until he’s fully seated. I close my eyes. “I love the way you feel inside me.”

His grip on me tightens. “I don’t know how I lived all these years without you to look forward to.” I open my eyes, find him staring at me intensely. He pulls nearly all the way out, then pumps into me hard. “I love you so much, princess.” He takes my mouth in a punishing kiss, demanding surrender, and I give it gladly.

He can have anything he wants of me. He’s pinning me against the tile as his thrusts go deeper, harder. Our moans echo off the tiles. He feels so good; everything feels so good. I’m riding him pretty hard, despite having little control in this position.

“You’re going to make me come, Layna,” he says like a curse. “My little horny princess wants my come, doesn’t she?”

I use my fingernails on the back of his shoulders to get better leverage. “I can’t wait.”

“You’re so greedy. Greedy for my cock. Greedy for my come.”

His words touch that place in my brain that turns off everything but wanting to breed like animals. It’s like he actually pulls a lever inside me that makes me numb to anything but my base instincts. No logic in the world can overwhelm my desire for him to fill me up right now. “Give me a baby, Rogan. God, you…”

“What, sweetheart?” he asks and slows his pumping hips, teasing me and making me crazier. “Finish your sentence.”

“You turn me into such a slut. I can’t think when you’re inside me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You can be my slut, baby. You just come and get this cock whenever you need it. My horny little slut.” He keeps the slow pace and I think I might kill him. The graceful glide is electric, but I want a pounding fuck now. I try to egg him on with a bite to his ear, but he only laughs.

“Rogan,” I groan, trying to angle my hips.

“Easy, sweetheart. There’s no rush.”

“Please. I need…I need…”

“I’m going to give you everything you need. You know I will.” He slams hard, thrusting all the way in and then holds still. “I always give my girl what she needs.” He slams into me again and then holds still again. “I know your pussy craves my cock. I can feel all that cream you make just for me. It’s all over my dick how much you want me.”

“Please,” I moan. I need to come. I need him to come.

“You didn’t get that shot this month. Every time we fuck, we get closer to making a baby. Is that what you want?”

“Yes!” I cry out. I want it so much. It will likely be months before I can get pregnant, my doctor told me.

He’s holding me still again. “You make me feel fucking feral.” He buries his face in my neck and nibbles on my neck. In a surprise move, he bites me while he thrusts again. “Need to mark you.”

“Do it.” I’m on sensory overload. The stinging bites on my neck, the stretching of my pussy, the deep need for him to come inside me—all of it was making me crazy.

“You have the sweetest, tightest, most perfect pussy.” He’s tense all over, his corded muscles bulging. “Tell me what you need,” he orders.

“I just need you. Only you.”

“I’m about to give you more than you can handle.” He’s thrusting in and out now, plunging into me in hard, deep motions. But he stops again. “Marry me.”

“What? Rogan, please fuck me—”

“Marry me. Please.”

Time stops. I can’t hear the water from the shower, I can’t see past his warm eyes. The whole world has stopped turning for this one moment. All he wants is me, a voice inside tells me. I’ve been stubbornly holding out on the wedding front. I don’t know why. I want to marry him. He says he wants to marry me. I’m just afraid that I’ve sort of forced him into this domestic relationship with all my drama, and I want him to be sure he never regrets me.

He’s shown me nothing but love and care. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe. And somehow, I fill a space inside him, too. It’s a miracle, and I’d be a fool to ever let it get away from me.

I’m a lot of things, but a fool is not one.

“I’ll marry you.”

He smiles. “Say it again.”

“I’ll marry you. I love you. I vow to be your biggest pain in the ass until the end of time. I’m yours. Always.”

He squeezes me as he kisses me deep, and though he’s not thrusting, we’re standing still, I start coming on his cock, squeezing his cock inside me until he follows. We sort of melt to the shower floor on legs on longer able to hold us up, but we’re still kissing.

“Say it again.”

“The water is getting cold.”

“Say it,” he warns.

“I’ll marry you.”

“That’s my girl.”

He reaches up to turn the water off. I pretty much crawl out of the shower and grab our towels. “So, about dinner…”

“We’re having sandwiches again, aren’t we?”

I flash my pearly whites—since flashing my boobs is already being done. “Sorry. You’re the one who wants to marry a woman with zero skills in the kitchen.”

“I like sandwiches.”

“I like you, Lance Rogan.”

And I do. I love him, of course, but I also like him very much. I was sure I would never make myself vulnerable, not after watching my mom lose herself so completely to grief that she let Alan into our lives.

But this man—this burly, gigantic, hulky man—gives me more than love. He gives me courage. And, if I’m not mistaken, he’s going to make me a sandwich even though it’s my night to cook.

That’s true love, folks.

I hope you loved these two as much as I did. Check out the sneak peek of the next Blue Collar Bad Boys book…the bricklayer and the babysitter. UNF

Conner

I’m in over my head with these kids, but I’m all the family they have left after my sister and her husband are killed. I’m a bricklayer, what do I know about twin baby girls? Nothing. Thank God for the sweet girl-next-door.

But she’s a blessing and a curse.

I’ve practically moved the poor girl in to help me care for these babies, but playing house is stirring up all kinds of feelings that should never see the light of day. I know she’s got a crush on me, but what I want to do to her body would crush her innocence forever.

She’s too sweet, too innocent, and way too young for a perv like me.

Cassidy

Mr. Webster is trying so hard to do the right thing, take care of everyone. But who takes care of him? I know under normal circumstances, I would hardly even register on his radar, but lately, when he looks at me, I feel like there’s more between us than there should be. Maybe more than he wants.

He works so hard. Provides for his nieces. Makes sure I’m a happy babysitter. But he’s so tense. So unhappy.

I want to give him something.

Something he wants. Something he needs. Something no man has ever had before.

Me.

Author’s Confession: Writing this series is like eating candy for dinner. I’m like...sorry not sorry. Conner is the book boyfriend you want in your life. I promise. And if you ever had a crush on the DILF while babysitting, this book is for you.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Conner

I have to admit it; the living room looks bad. Toys strewn everywhere, blankets spread across the floor, and chair cushions in place of baby gates. I did everything in my power to stop the girls from tearing down the fucking walls, but my efforts were laid to waste by the twin tornados I call my nieces. Even now I have almost no idea where the toddlers are. I’m too busy cleaning the mess they left behind.

I don’t want the babysitter to see this when she gets here.

Fuck if that doesn’t sound stupid.

I just wanted to give her one night off. She’s twenty-years-old. She should be out with friends, dating, shopping. Hell, whatever twenty-year-olds do. It’s been too long for me to even remember.

But instead of having a carefree life, Cassidy is stuck here with me most nights. Taking care of tornado clean-up. Playing house to two babies who aren’t hers and a grumpy old fucker who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing unless it’s the eight hours he spends outside of this house doing his job.

I don’t know how I got so old in such a short amount of time. I’m thirty, but I feel like the best of my life has passed me by already. Maybe it will get better. Maybe when I’ve had more time with the grief of losing my sister and her husband. Maybe when the twins can use actual words to tell me what they want and what the fuck is wrong so I’m not just trying to guess all the time.

Until then, I need Cassidy. She’s an angel. The girl-next-door who stepped in the night of the accident. She’d already spent the first three months of the twins’ life helping my sister after her rough delivery. Then, Cassidy babysat or helped out when they needed, so my neices know and trust her. Hell, they know her better than they know me. Cassidy has been with them since day one. And now she’s practically their mom.

She’s somehow also managing to go to college. Her classes are online, but I don’t know how she does it. So I gave her one fucking night off, and the place is falling apart.

After wiping up sweet potato puree from the hardwood floor, I make my way toward the alarming sounds I hear coming from the bathroom. When I reach the doorway, I turn on the light and freeze.

The baby in yellow- Ashley- has lifted the toilet seat and pushed her pretty sandals inside, along with her stuffed bunny. Her twin sister Alice has shoved her tiny red dress down to her ankles and managed to pee all over it. I don’t know where her diaper is. I don’t want to know.

I don’t care about the dress. I don’t even care about the sandals. But I’m torn apart by Mr. Bunny.

No way Ashley will go down tonight without Mr. Bunny. She’ll be up all night screaming.

I feel like I need seven more hands. I don’t know where to start. How to start. I just want a goddamned beer and to watch a game on TV. But not tonight.

I start with Alice. I clean her up, put her red pajamas on her and stick the one-year-old in her crib. Her cries are loud, but Ashley’s are louder. Shrill wails paused only by incoherent mumbles that sound a lot like backtalk. Ashley is the fighter of the two, the one that causes the most trouble.

After putting Ashley’s yellow jammies on, I plop her in the neighboring crib, sighing as the girl screams her little lungs out. I try everything from singing, to rocking her, to kissing her angry, red cheeks. Nothing helps.

Alice drifted off to sleep, but Ashley is still fighting on by the time Cassidy comes through the nursery door. I guess I was so caught up in trying to soothe the baby that I didn’t hear the front door open or close. Some protector I am.

Cassidy comes into the room silently, hovering behind me. After watching me struggling, she reaches around me and picks up the crying child, hushing her.

“I was trying to calm her down but she just wouldn’t stop,” I apologize, feeling like a fool. “I don’t know the nursery rhymes, but she seemed to like Luke Bryan for about five minutes.” Cassidy chuckles and waves me off wordlessly, motioning for me to leave the room. But I stay for a minute, watching.

She begins humming something my sister used to sing, a soft lullaby that soothes the baby in a way I can’t. I really don’t think I’d have been able to keep this family together without Cassidy. I’ll never be able to repay her for the sacrifices she makes for my nieces. For me.

Cassidy is a slim girl, though you wouldn’t be able to tell from the oversized sweatshirt she wears all the time. The glimpse I catch of her figure as she bends over the crib has me rock hard, though. The tight-fitting jeggings she wears stick to her generous thighs because she’s slim but round and thick at the bottom. Lush. I start to sweat.

It’s been a long time for me since I’ve been with a woman. And it’s going to be a lot longer as far as I can tell. But this babysitter shouldn’t suffer the consequences of my overactive desires. It’s not her fault. She’s done nothing but help me, and I repay her by thinking about how I’d like to see that thick ass jiggle while I’m coming at her from behind.

She is driving me crazy.

Sometimes, her gaze lingers a little too long on me. Then she blushes and looks away. She’s shy, sweet. Part of me wonders if she’s biddable and pliant too. The part of me that’s an ass.

I can’t take advantage of a young woman’s innocent crush. I would crush that innocence. That’s not who I am. Or at least, that’s not who I want to be.

But I can think about it all I want to. And I do.

When I get into bed every night, I dream she is there with me. I run my hands up her thighs, slip her jeggings off, and just feel her. As she starts squirming, I have to pin her down to the bed so I can take my time. I nose at her soaking wet panties, sucking her through the thin cotton. I slip them off, my head nestled between those glorious thighs as I lick up her sweet, succulent juices.

My dreams are always about pleasuring her, making her see how beautiful she is, appreciating her body the right way. My pleasure comes from seeing her fall apart at the touch of my fingers. Hearing that sultry voice cracking as I bury my tongue deep in her pussy. Watching her breasts bounce as she comes hard around my cock.

I have to jerk off at least twice a day at this point, sometimes three times. It’s shameful to be honest. I try to rid myself of the fantasies, but they are still there. Her innocent eyes staring up at me as I pound into her, the sounds she would make. How I would kiss her all over, sucking her nipples into my mouth, pinching her clit between my fingers as she cries out. Cassidy has taken over my mind, and there isn’t much I can do to stop it. Not that I really want to.

No, what I want to do is take her. Make her mine.

By the time Cassidy comes downstairs, I am barely restraining himself from pinning her to the kitchen counter and tearing off her pants. I just can’t risk coming on to her. The girls need her. I need her.

I can’t lose her. She’s the only thing holding my world together right now.

“She asleep?” I ask, turning in a way to hide my erection.

She nods. “Mr. Webster?” Cassidy asks. “What are you planning to do for your birthday?”

“I told you to call me Conner, Cassidy,” I correct her. For her own self-preservation, she needs to use my first name. When she calls me Mr. Webster, it feels even dirtier. Taboo. Mr. Webster and the babysitter kind of thing. It shouldn’t turn me on so much. The taboo of it. “And I don’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

At my age, birthdays have become a blur. They’re hardly anything to celebrate anymore. Just another year closer to death, basically. God, is that really me? I’m not old enough to feel this old.

“I think we should do something.”

“We?”

I know exactly what I want to do. And she’s standing in front of me.

What I want is the right to touch her when I want to, instead of having to clench my fists. I want the right to taste her, instead of having to bite my tongue. I want her body, but I know I can’t have it. I’m so frustrated. By this life I didn’t ask for. By the pain those girls upstairs are going through. And by the desire for this innocent babysitter than I can never, ever act on.

“We should do something. The girls need to be part of a normal family celebration.”

“We aren’t a normal family, Cassidy. We aren’t really a family at all.”

She shrinks back and I feel like an ass.

“You’re right. I’m going to head on up to bed now, Mr. Webster.”

“Cassidy, I’m sorry.”

I hate that I hurt her feelings. I know she’s got everyone’s best interests at heart. But I’m afraid of what will happen if we act like we’re playing house any more than we already do. I don’t know that I’ll be able to know the difference.

She gives me a shaky smile. One I know is fake. “It’s fine. I’m going to crash here in my room here tonight. It’s late.”

She’s been doing that most of the time. I don’t remember the last night she went home next door. It’s easier on us both, since I go to work so early. I can’t imagine her parents are okay with it, but they haven’t said anything. She stays in the guest room. I sleep in my sister’s old room. It’s all on the up-and-up. Except for the part where I want to wake her up by sucking on her clit until she’s screaming my name.