Daddy's Dirty Boss

“Sorry,” she said. “I just feel a bit got at this morning. I’ll be fine.” She forced a grin, but her eyes did lighten up a little. “What did you call me in here for?”

Such fucking innocence. Always such fucking innocence.

“That depends on you,” I said, knowing full well my smirk was filth. “I’m keen to establish how you are feeling post the weekend. Still somewhat tender, I imagine.”

Those rosy cheeks were back in force. “I can still feel where you’ve been,” she whispered. “It, um… hurts.”

My mouth watered so fucking hard. “Tell me how it hurts, Faith.”

Those baby blues were divine. “It, um… it aches,” she whispered. “Aches really deep. I feel it when I move. Some of it hurts sharp sometimes, and I like that. I like to feel where you’ve been inside me.”

The girl was learning. Such a natural. Her breaths were quickening, knees pressed even tighter together, no doubt driven by such a dirty want in that horny little pussy of hers.

I’d been planning to clarify our situation in a considerably calmer conversation setting than this, but the heat was already too far risen to stand a hope in hell.

“You want more of that pounding, don’t you?” I asked her. “You want me inside those aching little holes all over again.”

Her nod was that of such a horny little girl. Short. Sharp. Needy.

“Tell me,” I pushed, and my palm was pressed to my swollen cock under the desk. “Tell me what you want.”

She squirmed in her seat, and her lips were parted, eyes on mine. But again she was hesitant. Holding back.

“Tell me,” I insisted. “I want honesty from you, Faith. I want to know exactly what you want.”

I wasn’t expecting the answer. Not the simplicity of it when it came.

“You,” she said, just like that. “I want you.”

How it coaxed. Her words calling for mine.

“Tell me how you want me,” I pushed again. “I want to know everything about what you crave in that filthy little heart of yours.”

And I did want to know.

Even though I was pushing in so fucking deep for the core of her, I couldn’t hold back. Didn’t fucking want to.

She was silent. Hesitating. Still fucking hesitating.

“Tell me what it is you really want, little girl,” I insisted, and her breathing hitched all the more.

“You, Miles,” she said finally. “It’s you I want. It’s always been you.”

She bit her bottom lip, and it wasn’t from some sexy little diva effort at being a temptress. This was a girl with genuine nerves, wearing a genuine heart on her sleeve.

And oh, how I fucking loved her for it.

My pulsing cock could take a back seat on the imminent thrill-seeking, my eyes were all on a much heavier prize. But first I needed to warn her. Truly needed to warn her what was coming.

“This was quite an intense weekend,” I said. “But I promise you, little girl, that’s only just me getting started. I don’t play lightly. My interests are all very… demanding.”

She didn’t flinch. “I want to play however you want to play,” she whispered. “Please. I really want you.”

“And you can have me,” I told her. “You can have me as your filthy playmate from now until university, but we need to be sure of our rules together. We need to be sure we’re both singing along to the same hymn sheet before we go risking the ink smears.”

“Playmates?” she asked. “That’s what we’ll be? Like fuck buddies from now until term time?”

“What do you want us to be?” I pushed again.

She shrugged.

I stared.

“What do you want us to be, Faith? Tell me.”

Her foot started tapping, eyes back on the plant, and mine were fixed on her. Burning so fucking hard.

“Tell me what you want us to be, Faith,” I said again, like a mantra, and she sighed. She sighed and stared and gave me her answer.

“I want us to be everything, Miles. I want to be your everything.” Her pause was so tight. “You’re already everything to me. You have been for years.”

Holy fucking hell, her words were alive.

This was nothing like playmates, and I knew it. I’d known it from before I gave her the birthday card. I’d known it from when it was a glimmer in the back of a little girl’s dirty eyes.

“We have to be so careful with this,” I told her. “Faith, sweetheart, we have to be so fucking careful. If anyone finds out about this…”

“I know,” she said. “I know they’ll never let us be together. None of them.”

The generic them was such a powerful unspoken force, but so real. Her parents, our colleagues, our friends. Our town.

“You need to go to university,” I said. “That’s looming tall. We have to be so careful before this truly kicks off. We could get so deep.”

“I need to go to university, but it’s not now,” she replied. “Please, can we just be together for now? We don’t have to tell anyone. We don’t have to fight a losing battle, right? We can just be us in private… can’t we?”