Club Wicked 2: My Wicked Nanny (20 page)

Something tickled Jesse’s lips, and he absently tried to
brush it away. To his right a female murmured, and he reached out, getting a
handful of soft stomach and hip. It only took him a few seconds to remember. As
soon as he did, blood rushed to his cock in a ball-tightening pound. Slowly
opening his eyes, he looked around the dimly lit room.

Anya must have gotten up at some point because the door to
her room was closed, and her curtains were pulled tight. Since this room faced
to the west, it was still nice and dark. He looked over at the curvy woman and
wanted to do bad things with her.

She slept like an innocent, one arm flung out to the side,
her soft lips lightly parted. The golden spread of her hair around her body was
indescribably sexy. He slowly shifted, wanting to get a better look at her body
as she slept. Full, firm, and profoundly female, she was a work of art come to
life.

He slowly drew the sheet covering her down, revealing inch
by inch the rich cream of her skin. When the tips of her breasts peeked out, he
grinned at the sight of his adoration. A bite mark shadowed the side of her
breast, and her nipples were definitely darker than usual. And erect. The slide
of the blanket over them must have reached her somewhere in her sleep, because
she gave a sexy moan and shifted.

Pulling the sheet down farther, enjoying his submissive’s
body as was his prerogative, he drank in the way her ribs narrowed to the
pleasing bump of her belly. It had felt so good to press her against him, all
softness and warmth. At the first sight of her little cleft, he had to pull
himself back. She was indeed swollen there as well. Not as puffy as she got
while aroused but definitely pinker than usual. Poor girl. He was going to fuck
her raw if he wasn’t careful.

He really should make up for being such a cad.

Shifting on the bed, trying to disturb the mattress as
little as possible, he drew the sheet entirely off her. When she made no move,
he gently spread her thighs, exposing her to his gaze. He loved watching a woman’s
pussy become aroused, swollen, and wet. He leaned in and began to lick his way
up through her slit, ending with a soft tap to her clit with his tongue.

She moaned and arched against him, earning a slow and gentle
lick of her clit.

“Jesse…” She reached down and threaded her fingers through
his hair. “Mmm, so good.”

He loved how she kept her pussy completely bare of hair.
Just licking over that delicate surface made her squirm. Returning his
attention to her clit, he began to rhythmically suck on the hard bud, coaxing
it fully out of the hood. Her moans became incoherent, little pleading noises
that tightened his balls. Lapping at her with quick, methodical strokes, he
drove her higher, noting the tension in her thighs.

Before she came, he pulled back and looked up. She was
magnificent, her body arched, firm breasts shaking with her breath. All that
beauty and warmth at his fingertips.

He pulled himself up the bed and swirled the head of his
cock between her folds. She grabbed at him, trying to thrust her hips up, but
he stopped her.

“Lift your head.”

Her pretty blue-gray eyes clouded with confusion, but she
complied. He adjusted her to the right height, mounding pillows behind her back
before straddling her face. She immediately leaned up and began to tongue his
balls with eager strokes. While she didn’t have the skill that came from
experience, her enthusiasm more than made up for it. Gripping the headboard, he
moved so his cock bounced against her lips, his thighs pinning her arms down
beside her. She immediately opened wide.

“Good girl.” He slid his cock between her lips. “Take it
all. Make me proud.”

His words worked their magic, and she did as he commanded,
her body obeying him without question. She struggled to take him in this
position, but he didn’t help her, too caught up in the fucking amazing
sensation of her mouth. Like the rest of her it was small and tight, a tad too
snug to comfortably fit his cock. He made sure not to rush it, let her adjust.
His patience was rewarded when she swallowed around his dick. Holding himself
there, not moving in and out was torture, but Anya seemed to like having her
air cut off for a brief period.

Sure enough, when he pulled out, she took a deep breath and
moaned hard enough to vibrate his balls. With a curse, he moved out of the
silken trap of her mouth, wanting to fuck her, to be inside of her and make her
come. He wanted her with a primal intensity that seared his bones, a need to
possess.

He yanked her up by the waist, enjoying a deep kiss before
he rolled them over so she was on top.

“I want you to ride me, little one. Grab me in your fist and
put me in slow. I want to see you enjoy every inch.”

Her breathing became labored, and he struggled to keep from
slamming into her.

“Spread your pussy lips for me. I want to see the head going
into your slick pink heat.”

She did as he asked, and he growled at the sight of her cunt
beginning to envelop his cock. At the first kiss of her soaked flesh, he
clenched his teeth and returned his attention to her face in a vain effort to
calm down. But when he saw the complete ecstasy in her expression, it only
goaded him further into a bestial rutting state. Almost halfway down his cock
now, Anya made a little moaning noise that near killed him.

Knowing he was going to come if he didn’t stop her, he
smacked her hip.

“Stay right there. Do not move up or down my cock an inch. I
want you to play with that pretty clit of yours until you orgasm, and only then
can you take me all the way.”

Her closed eyes tightened. “Master, I don’t know if I can do
that.”

“You will do that, or I will pull out and come down your
pretty throat instead of inside your cunt.”

A slight whimper worked its way out of her mouth, but she
reached between them and began to rub her clit with her thumb. He watched, fascinated
with how she pleased herself, making notes as to how she touched and what she
did. He’d been far too gentle with her clit. Watching her tug and roll that
little nub made his cock throb.

His self-control was at the very edge, but he hardened his
resolve. “Come on, baby. Make yourself come. Stroke that wet cunt of yours.
Right now some of your honey is dripping down my cock, falling onto my balls.
I’m going to make you clean it off.”

She rubbed harder, faster until her thighs trembled with the
effort of holding herself up. She tossed her head back, her hair a glorious
waterfall of golden color. From this position he could actually see the blood
flushing her sex, her clit hardening beneath her busy fingers as her orgasm
approached. She froze, her thighs trembling, then came with a wail. Before her
first wave had even crested, he slammed himself into her, the need to come
making his balls ache.

She placed her hands on his chest, her hair falling in a
curtain around them, and rode him hard. He helped her keep up the pace, rocking
into her, pinning her down to grind her clit against his pelvis. He met her
gaze, and the raw desire he saw there pierced his soul. He strengthened that
connection, reaching out to her. It had been such a long time since he’d felt
not…alone during sex. Everything low in his stomach gathered tight, and he
grabbed handfuls of her ass, just rubbing her clit against him with his cock as
far inside of her as he could get.

“Come again, Anya. Take me over with you.”

“Master.” The words passed through her lips in a breathy
whisper.

“Look at me, Anya.”

Opening her eyes, she gave him a sultry look that made his
hips buck, losing his rhythm. She tightened until it felt almost like a fist
gripping his dick. She let out a little whine, and he leaned up, catching her
nipple between his teeth, and bit down. That pushed her over, and she cried
out, calling his name in a ball-draining scream. He didn’t even have to move,
just stop holding his orgasm back. Without a single stroke her quivering pussy
milked the sperm out of him, searing him with his release. Even as he came,
even as the pleasure crested, he kept looking into her eyes.

Her beautiful blue-gray eyes.

He never wanted her to look at another man like this, ever. With
their bodies still connected, contractions still shaking her and him, he
decided he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. While he wouldn’t stop
her from going to Paris, he would imprint himself on her so fully no other man
could take his place. He didn’t give a fuck if she was too young for him, or if
there would be snide comments about her having been his nanny. She was a good
woman, and he would be a fool if he let her slip through his fingers. He’d
brand himself into her soul, because she’d already put her mark on his.

He pulled her down to his chest, wrapping his arms around
her small form, and began to plan.

* * * *

His mother looked up from where she sat reading a book to
Mark. “Jesse, did you come home last night?”

Feeling ridiculous, he gave Mark a significant look. “Yes,
Mom, I was out at the stables.”

His mother flushed and mouthed the word
sorry
to him before sending Mark off to find Teddy and play with
him. Once his son was out of sight, she turned back to him with a speculative
gleam in her eye. “Did you spend another night at Isaac’s or Hawk’s house?”

He often played poker with the other men into the wee hours
of the morning, so they would stay with whoever was hosting that night. Well,
none of them really owned a traditional home, more like mansions and
penthouses, but that was still the only times he stayed out all night.

Until now.

“Mom, it’s kind of complicated, and I need your help.”

She sat down on the couch and moved a toy out of the way
before patting a spot next to her. “Jesse, come down here and tell me what is
going on.”

He sat with a heavy sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.
Telling her was harder than he thought, and he chided himself for worrying his
mother would lecture him for being attracted to Anya. “I’m falling in love with
Anya, the nanny.”

When his mother didn’t say anything, he looked over at her,
ready for the censure in her face. Instead her bright smile caught him off
guard. “Anya?”

“Yes, Anya.”

“Good.”

“What?”

His mother patted his shoulder. “Honey, she’s been making
calf eyes at you for a long time now. You just didn’t notice. I like her. She’s
a very smart and ambitious young woman.”

 
“Mom, she’s so
young.”

“Might I remind you that by the time I was twenty-three, you
were already four years old?”

“But that’s different.” She laughed softly, and he avoided
her knowing gaze. “Anya’s my nanny. I don’t want people thinking the wrong
thing.”

“What? That a handsome young widower fell in love with his
beautiful nanny? Oh yes, that never happens. Besides, when did you ever care
what other people thought?”

It amazed him that after all these years his mom could still
put him in his place every time. “I don’t want anyone to talk shit about her.
Me, I
don’t
care, but she’s not used
to being an object of gossip in the local paper.”

“I know if I loved a man, I would put up with every paper in
the world writing about us if it meant we could be together.”

He shook his head. “Why did I come to a hopeless romantic to
talk about relationships? What about Diane? Don’t you think she’ll have
something to say about her sister’s husband bringing another woman into her
house?”

“Diane is a bitch no matter what.” He blinked in surprise at
the venomous tone of his mother’s words. “She is only using her sister’s death
as an excuse to keep seeing you. The way she hits on you is pitiful. I’d be
more worried if you noticed.”

“What?”

His mind raced over the idea that Diane had hit on him. When
she came over for her visits with the boys, they usually stayed here. Now that
he thought about it, she’d never volunteered to have them over at her place.
He’d thought it was because his house was equipped for kids while her condo in
the city was filled with artwork that could easily be smashed to bits. Of
course she’d also always urged him to stay and hang out with them, but usually
he left them alone so they could have time with their aunt.

Plus he couldn’t stand the woman.

His stomach clenched as he remembered her fleeting touches,
things he’d excused as nothing because of course someone wouldn’t hit on their
deceased sister’s husband. His flesh crawled, and anger filled him, but he
couldn’t stop the boys’ visits. They were only five years old, and they loved
their aunt, even if she was a self-centered bitch.

What a cluster fuck.

His mother waved her hand. “Never mind. We’re not talking
about her. If she did say anything mean to or about Anya, I hope you will stand
up for the woman whose opinion matters. And it’s not that gold-digging
peroxide-blonde bitch.”

Stunned, he stared at his mother. He knew she didn’t like
Diane—hell, he didn’t like her either because she’d been so cruel to Carol
while they were growing up—but he didn’t know his mom hated her. And his mother
didn’t hate easily. Her hands were clenched into tight fists in her lap, and it
hurt his heart to see her so upset.

Covering her hands with one of his, he tried to catch her
eye. “Don’t worry. I would never let anyone hurt Anya.”

“I know you won’t. You’re a good boy. Someone raised you
right.”

He laughed and released her hand. “That she did.” He rubbed
his face again, smelling Anya on his hands. “I wish things weren’t so messed up
with Anya. That I had met her somewhere else first.”

“You like her. She likes you. What’s the problem?”

“You know she’s leaving for Paris in two weeks to spend the
summer there.”