The Boss's Runaway

I will figure out my fixation on this specific kind of relationship with Sissy later. Right now, I’m focused on what she revealed. “You escaped your father?” Anger heats my insides. “Why did you need to escape him?”

For several heartbreaking seconds, her lower lip wobbles until she straightens suddenly, putting some steel in her spine. Brave angel. “That’s the kind of thing I’ll tell my boyfriend.” She crosses her legs and the dress drifts all the way to her hip, giving me a view of her long, limber-looking thigh. “Can we please go now?”

I’m torn between wanting to comfort her and the desire to break things. Already she is pulling me apart. “Not until you agree to the final rule.”

She takes a long breath. “Maybe I have a rule of my own!”

“What is it?”

“I have to pay rent. Even if I’m only staying for a short while—”

“You’re already planning to leave?”

My shouted question jolts her in the seat, making her gasp. “W-well I’m going to start earning a paycheck eventually. After that, I’ll find my own place.”

I haven’t even brought her home yet and I’m losing her? My head is pounding.

“You’re not paying rent,” I rumble. “If you’re sleeping in your car, you can’t afford it.”

To my astonishment—and panic—she unbuckles her seatbelt and starts to slide out of the passenger seat. “This clearly isn’t going to work.”

And I make the very painful, very pleasurable mistake of catching her mid-slide, her thighs coming to a jarring stop around my hips—and her pussy landing, so sweet and soft, right on top of my nasty erection. “Ah fuck,” I grunt through my teeth. Nothing in the world can stop me from pinning her butt to the edge of the seat and rocking once, twice, my head tipping back on a moan. “Ahhhhh. Fuck. You make Daddy so hard.”

She takes two quick breaths. Nervous? Excited? I can’t tell. “What happens when Daddy gets hard?”

That question should douse me in cold water. Instead, it heats me like we’ve been transported to a location ten miles from the equator. I want to lift her flimsy little dress and bang her rotten. I want to know what her pussy feels like. If she’s asking me these kinds of questions, it’s probably tight as they come. In my teens, I was intimate occasionally with the opposite sex, but at thirty-five, I’ve been walking a righteous path for so long that my aggressive lust for Sissy is startling. I always thought I could master any test the devil throws at me, but I never expected him to send an angel to battle my willpower.

“Nothing,” I grind out, finally, using every iota of strength inside of me to lift Sissy back onto the passenger seat, arranging the hem of her dress as close to her knees as possible, cursing my shaking hands. “Nothing happens. I’ve got no business between these young legs.” My right hand moves on its own, lifting to cradle her jaw, tilting her face until we’re looking each other in the eye. “But they stay closed to everyone else, too. Is that clear?”

Her expression is stubborn, but she nods and eighty bolts loosen in my chest.

“Good girl,” I rasp, my thumb straying to her bottom lip, brushing the pillowy curve of it. “No more talk of paying rent, either. If anything, I owe you. For what I did. For…spanking you like that. It was wrong.”

She’s silent a moment. Then, “I have a way you can pay me back.”

“What is it?” I’m ready to beg for a way free of my guilt.

A blush suffuses her cheeks, making her even more beautiful. “I know you said you have no business…” Her voice drops to a whisper. ”Between my legs. But maybe you could give me my first kiss?”

Just like that, my heartbeat turns erratic, my dick stretching my zipper. Tongue weighing a dozen pounds. I zero in on her mouth and she wets both lips, turning them into succulent, forbidden fruit. Yes, forbidden. Fight the hunger. She might be a legal adult, but she’s a teenage runaway and I’m holding all the cards. Food, a place to stay, a job. If I kiss her, it will lead to more and then I’ll be yanking down her panties every chance I get. It would be a clear abuse of my power over this sweet girl. It’s not happening.

“No. Absolutely not.” My tented fly makes a mockery out of me. “Kissing leads to more. You are coming to live with me. As a guest. A friend. And that’s all.”

Those words ring like hollow lies, but somehow I manage to close to the door on her disappointed expression, adjust my erection and make my way to the driver’s side.

“Friends?” she whispers when I start the engine.

I look down at her thighs and wonder how she tastes in between them. Like sugar-sprinkled honey, I bet. “Friends,” I force out, tires squealing as I gun the engine.