The Boss's Runaway

That’s exactly what you ache to be. For her.

Yeah. Somehow she’s made me want these unspeakable things. To take the job of the man in her life. Protector, provider. Pleasure giver. I want to consume her. To be her world. And that’s wrong. It’s wrong. Especially after what she said to me.

No, Locke. You can’t take care of me. You have to teach me how to take care of myself.

God above, she is extraordinary. To overcome her fear and run from her father, come to Vegas. A place so unfamiliar and overwhelming. Walking into the casino to interview for a job must have been terrifying, but she did it anyway. This girl is going to live an amazing life. I’m not going to stall out her journey right at the outset by saddling her with my lust. My needs. If I do that, I’ll never be able to let her go. I’ll lock her down, just like her father did before me.

I finish the rosary and carefully arrange the string of beads on my bedside table. Crossing myself, I get into bed beneath the covers and switch off the light. Five seconds later, I already know sleep is going to be impossible with my dick this hard. I have no choice but to stroke off. Prayers did nothing to reduce the size or urgency of my erection.

Turning over onto my back, I grit my teeth and reach into my boxers, my breath releasing in a hiss when I finally get a fist around it, stroking once. Twice. Circling my thumb roughly around the head, my hairy thighs jolting open in the sheets. I try to stop myself from picturing Sissy, but there isn’t a hope in hell for me. The delicate shape of her mouth, the innocent curiosity in her eyes, the body that promises sin. Deep, dark sin.

It doesn’t take long before I’m railing her in the fantasy. I’ve got her legs spread open underneath me and I’m pumping like a dog, way too big for a little thing like her. Twice her size. And it’s not stopping me. Not when her pussy is making those wet smacking sounds and I’ve got two balls full of fuel. She’s taking it so bravely, wanting to make Daddy happy—

My bedroom door opens.

I suck in a breath and quit jacking myself immediately, my whole body shaking from being brought to the edge. I must order her back to the guest room, even though there’s an invisible hand wrapped around my throat. I’m choking with the need to come.

“Sissy,” I finally growl. “Go back to bed.”

“I can’t. I can’t sleep.” She hugs her elbows. “It’s weird being in a strange place. I’ve never slept anywhere but at home. In my room or the barn.”

My protective streak throbs like a heartbeat. I don’t like her uncomfortable or feeling out of place. She should be at peace under my roof. Always. But if she gets into this bed with me right now, I don’t know if I can be responsible for my actions. “Honey…”

“Can I lay with you?” Her knee is already on the edge of the bed, one hand peeling back the covers. “Just for a little while?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

Damn, I hate the way her shoulders dip with disappointment. “Why?”

“You know why, Sissy.” I pump my fist around my cock, pre come rolling down my knuckles, my teeth clenching. “Get too close and I might pop that juicy little cherry.”

Color stains her cheeks. “D-do you mean, take my virginity?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She sits down beside me on the bed, considering the motion of my fist beneath the comforter, that beautiful bottom lip caught between her teeth. “One time when I was in high school, a man brought his son to the farm. Our fathers had business together. I was ordered to stay in my bedroom, so I did. I was writing in my journal. But I noticed a something moving out of the corner of my eye. It was the son. Looking in my bedroom window. He was watching me and…doing that. What you’re doing. Touching himself. Furiously.”

She says those final two words in a whisper and draws back the sheet. God help me, I let her. I need her to see my cock. Need it to be her whole universe.

“Oh my goodness,” she gasps, dropping the sheet to the side. “Is that…the n-normal size?”

“Normal for me,” I grind out, stroking it for her. Sick. You’re sick. She’s innocent. Stop.

Sissy tilts her head to get a better look at my shaft, as if fascinated. “It looks like it belongs to one of our farm animals.”

“Which one?” I grunt, openly masturbating myself now, like a pervert.

“The bull,” she says, lifting awed eyes to mine. “That boy who looked at me—”

“Don’t remind me of the boy,” I shout through my teeth. “I’d like a snap his neck.”