Fake Daddy To Be

“I can’t hold back,” he says through clenched teeth. “Do you mind if I get rough?”

“No,” I say. “Use my body however you want, big boy.”

He lets out another husky chuckle. Then a big hand knots in my hair and tugs back. My back arches, and at the same moment, he slams his hips soundly against my ass. I gasp, but the pain quickly turns to pleasure as he starts pumping in and out of me. Noises I didn’t think I could make match the rhythm of his hips. He lets go of my hair and I flatten once more as he leans over, holding onto my hips. I turn to our reflections in the glass, watching how he mounts and rides me hard. Oh my god, this is so wrong and yet my eyes roll back in my head as climax approaches.

“Chan!” I scream. “Oh Chan!” I gasp helplessly as my pussy tightens and convulses. Hot stars shoot in front of my eyes and jolts of electricity run through my sweetest spot, squeezing the hardness within.

Seconds later, hot come spills into me. The billionaire lets out a loud roar, gripping my hips as his cock jerks and twitches, releasing every drop into my pulsing hole. He lets out another roar and then jerks again, pumping me utterly full.

Finally, we return to Earth, our breathing labored. Chan pulls out and although I love the feeling of his semen oozing from my secret spot, I miss being stuffed to the brim by his hardness as well.

He merely chuckles low in his throat, watching as a trickle of male fluid seeps down my thigh. But then the alpha male surprises me by catching it with his finger and pushing it back into my pussy.

“That’s where it belongs,” he growls. “Now come to bed, princess.”

Slowly, he leads me down a darkened hallway and into a cavernous bedroom filled with heavy wood furniture. I can’t see much, but there’s a king-size bed pushed up against one wall, and tenderly, like I’m a doll, Chan helps me into bed, covers us both, and tucks my head under his chin.

How can a man who was so passionate only seconds ago suddenly change into this gentle giant embracing me in his arms? How can that filthy mouth now be whispering sweet nothings against my hair? Yet, I’ve never felt happier and I close my eyes, shooing all thoughts away. For tonight, I have my Prince Charming, and I’m not going to let anything ruin it.

My eyes snap open. The only sound in the dark bedroom is Chan’s soft snoring. We’ve shifted positions in our sleep and now instead of facing each other, my back is flush against his chest. His heart beats softly against my skin and my bottom is pressed up against his hardness. God, he’s enormous even when he’s flaccid. Did I really fit that into me?

I think about waking him for more sexy times, but then common sense takes over. It’s still dark outside, but I sense that morning isn’t far away, and I need to make my departure. After two years of maid work, my body has gotten used to waking up early on its own and sure enough, on the nightstand, Chan’s alarm clock tells me that it’s 4 a.m. Damn it. I need to get home now or I’ll be late for my new job.

I carefully slip out of bed, careful not to disturb the massive male beside me. His broad chest is bare and one arm is flung to the side, revealing powerful biceps. But Chan is sleeping so soundly and peacefully that he doesn’t wake.

I pause, just looking at his bronzed form for a moment. I’m so tempted to stay, but again, I can’t. This man is a billionaire whereas I’m a penniless maid. The chasm between us is too wide and deep.

With my shoulders set, I feel my way through the dark, not wanting to turn on any lights. Then, I open the bedroom door and tiptoe into the hallway. Fortunately, my dress is in a heap on the floor, right where we left it, and I pull it on. My bra and panties are nowhere to be found, but I can’t waste time searching for them. I’ll save up to buy another set of lingerie. Then, hurriedly, I throw my shawl over my shoulders and grab my purse, lying discarded on a couch.

Quiet as a mouse, I make my way to the imposing front door. I’d love to say goodbye to Chan and am tempted to leave a note of some sort. But then who am I kidding? We were a one-time hook-up, and I don’t even know his last name. Come to think of it, he doesn’t know my name at all. Trixie Dickson? It’s obviously an alias.