My Mom's Fiance: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Read online

  “This is kind of out of the blue,” I said, looking off in the distance while chewing my steak. “I’m not sure if I have time in my schedule, which day was it? I dunno, I’m traveling to Italy and Venezuela next week, it’ll be tough,” I said, lowering my brows like I was visualizing my packed schedule.

  Daisy was silent for a moment.

  “Please Mr. Marks,” she said. “Just for a little bit.”

  I turned to look at her, that caramel gaze filled with sincerity, lips pouting, expression hopeful. But I didn’t become CEO without honing my negotiation tactics.

  “What’s in it for me?” I asked nonchalantly. “People are always looking to get a slice of my money, what do I get for meeting with this mofo?”

  Daisy bit her lip.

  “Well, maybe he’d give me a better grade in class?” she said in a small voice.

  I snorted.

  “He better give you a better grade,” I ground out. “That’s the least he could do for five minutes of my time. No, little girl,” I said gently. “Tell me … what will you be giving me?”

  And here, Daisy bit her lip.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said tentatively, the heat rising in her cheeks again, squirming a bit in her chair. We were alone in the big dining room but she looked around as if searching for some help, an out somewhere.

  “I’m sure you know what I mean,” I said smoothly, leaning back in my chair, a relaxed male animal, dangerously predatory. “You haven’t been wearing panties Daisy, you’ve been flashing that cunt all over the house, tempting me.”

  Daisy let out a sharp gasp then, eyes wide with shock.

  “Mr. Marks, it’s not like that,” she breathed. “I swear.”

  “Not like what?” I drawled, big body relaxed although energy jolted in waves through my frame.d

  “It’s just that,” she said slowly. “My body’s changed and I don’t have underwear that fits anymore,” she said. “My hips are a little wider now and my old panties, I bought them when I was built like a rail,” she said shyly, almost embarrassed. “I used to be a size zero but now I’m a twelve and the last time I tried to get my old stuff on, they …”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “They what?” I pressed gently.

  The brunette looked down, humiliated, completely still.

  “They ripped,” she almost whispered. “My panties didn’t fit anymore, they tore right in two.”

  My cock jumped out at full mast then. Oh fuck, oh fuck. The little girl was a curvy one, hips wide and sassy, with a rack to make a man cry. The thought of that sweet, soft cotton squeezing her waist, the fabric straining and finally snapping made my cock jerk to attention, and suddenly I couldn’t resist anymore.

  “Show me,” I commanded harshly, eyes glued to her figure. The air between us was electric, tense with sexual energy, the steak forgotten.

  “Show you?” she repeated in a small voice, shaking her head, confused. “I can’t Mr. Marks, I threw those panties away. I threw all my panties away,” she confessed. “None of them fit anymore.”

  The thought made me spurt a bit into my pants. Holy shit, this was dangerous territory, but I had to keep going.

  “Not that baby, I’ll get you new panties,” I rasped, eyes hot, dick on fire. “Show me that beautiful pussy, it’s bare and wet isn’t it?”

  And with wide eyes, Daisy nodded, squirming slightly in her seat again.

  “It is,” she murmured. “When I’m around you it is, Mr. Marks.”

  I fucking couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Up,” I commanded. “Bend over, skirt up.”

  Trembling, the brunette stood, sliding her chair back.

  “Right here? In the dining room?” she whispered, chin trembling.

  “Right here,” I growled, eyes glued to her voluptuous curves.

  And slowly, the girl turned and bent over, the hem of her skirt rising inch by inch, meaty thighs coming into view, pale, creamy and oh-so-tasty, like ham hocks you could bite into, get a huge mouthful and enjoy.

  “Like this Mr. Marks?” she asked breathlessly, small voice coming from between her knees.

  “Just a little more,” I ground out, and the girl obliged. Slowly, she tipped over even further until the bottom of her pink pussy slipped into view, nubile, pulsing, and wet.

  I practically came right then, cockpole throbbing, veins pulsing, the tip leaking with lust.

  “Fuck little girl,” I stared at her bottom, eyes ravenous. “Fuck,” I ground out harshly. And the girlie got into it then.

  “How about this?” she asked, shaking her hips, shimmying a bit. I watched mesmerized as flecks of pussy juice dribbled from her folds, one even hitting my dick. Ravenously, I massaged the spatter of cream into my pole, creamy and delicious.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I ground out. “But I want more,” and with a quick movement of my wrist, I flicked her skirt over her hips so that her entire snatch was bared, that juicy twat fleshy, steaming, beating with a visible pulse as I stared at those plush lips, the little clit poking out.

  “Oh Tristan,” Daisy squealed from down below. “You’re so bad!”

  But I didn’t answer because I was mesmerized, already beating my stick like a madman. Fuck, I raged, she’s your ward, stop stop stop, this is so wrong. But it felt right, everything about this fucked-up situation felt right, from the way that pink pussy leaked to the way Daisy was breathing hard, shivering with delight.

  And never a man to hold back, I let go. With a grunt, I began pulling on my dick, pumping like there was no tomorrow, my hand a vise around the huge shaft. Oh shit, it felt so good and Daisy was so fucking gorgeous, her pussy bare right in front of me, quivering, trembling with lust.

  “Ooooh Tristan,” she moaned, and that was all it took. With a groan, a shake, and a massive roar, I spurted, cock spurting like a hose, rope after rope of creamy jizz hitting the teen’s thighs, dripping down her long, luscious legs, marking that sweet flesh.

  “Ooohh,” moaned Daisy again. “Higher higher,” she pleaded.

  And pointing my dickhead up, I let a couple streams of jizz splash against her pussy, seeping into her hole, pulsing against her clit. It was so fucking wrong, watching my ward’s cunt get bathed in my seed, and I came even harder, rocks practically exploding, semen flying out like a geyser gone crazy. Oh shit, oh shit, was I really doing this? Was I splashing my little ward’s pussy with hot jism? Oh shit, I was a disgusting motherfucker, this had to stop.

  But of course I didn’t stop. The orgasm rolled through me, hips jerking, chest heaving as I grunted with pleasure, juices erupting from my dicktip with a vengeance. Fuck, there was just so much, gallons and gallons of white, creamy batter sprayed all over Daisy’s pussy.

  But nothing this good lasts forever, and with a few more pulses, some hot splashes, finally the show ended. I grunted again, dicktip merely dripping now instead of flying with hot fuck. But I hadn’t counted on the girl, because Daisy herself was my undoing.

  “Mr. Marks,” she murmured, small voice coming from between her knees still. “More?” she cooed coyly, pulling her ass cheeks apart, showing me that gleaming pussy, how it trembled and shook, gooey under a coat of cum.

  And I was done for. The vixen had me wrapped around her finger, achy balls resting in her palms. I was absolutely done for, except that Daisy is my ward … and it was definitely happening again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Daisy

  Usually Tristan and I never see each other because he’s traveling or working, busy running his company. So at seven, I sat down in the main dining room, expecting another meal alone, some quiet time to myself. But suddenly the big man appeared in the doorway, massive, looming, ominously handsome in a dark suit.

  “Mr. Marks!” I cried out, surprised, biting my lip awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”

  I flushed because expecting no one, I’d put on ridiculous clothes, figuring it didn’t make a difference. My t-shirt stretched across
my boobs invitingly, hugging every curve while the skirt was so short that it stopped just a few inches below my puss.

  And the big man stopped in the doorway, that straight nose wrinkling slightly. Oh my god, could he smell my pussy? I didn’t have on any underwear, none of my panties fit anymore. Oh shit, had the unmistakable scent of female nectar drifted to him?

  But the dark man shook his head, visibly forcing himself back to reality.

  “I just got back from some business, thought I’d eat at home,” he rumbled casually before seating himself at the head of the table, elegantly unfolding a napkin.

  I’d nodded, embarrassed, slowly smoothing my skirt over my thighs. But like an awkward child I began babbling about school, talking about anything just to fill the silence, bits and bobs of nothing really. Except that Tristan was listening.

  “Who is this Mr. Ranger?” he interrupted casually, too casually. Oh no, I’d done it again. The flicker in his eye, the tight set of his jaw, indicated that my guardian sensed another alpha male, another dominant masculine force in my life.

  “He’s no one,” I assured him quickly, but couldn’t resist the opening. “Mr. Marks, would you mind talking with Mr. Ranger about a potential donation to the school?”

  That’s when Tristan threw his head back, laughing like he’d heard the funniest joke in the world.

  “What?” I asked, looking around. What was so hilarious?

  But the big man merely shook his head, like I’d provided him with the perfect opening.

  “So long as you get an A in his class, I’d be happy to help,” he growled, looking at me meaningfully. I flushed. I’d never thought that there were backdoors to good grades, I thought you worked hard, studied, did all the reading, and that meant you’d do well on the tests. But evidently, there’s more than one path through life and opportunities were unfolding before me. Somehow my little world had just expanded in an eye-popping manner, becoming ten times bigger than before. Because when Tristan ordered me to stand up and bend over, baring my puss to him, I couldn’t help but obey.

  “Mr. Marks, it’s wrong,” I whispered as I slowly slid my chair back, our eye contact electric.

  But the dark slash across his cheeks and the hungry look in his eyes couldn’t be denied.

  “You’re not my ward anymore,” he ground out, and that was true. I was eighteen now, an independent adult in the eyes of the State, so technically there was no legally binding relationship. Besides, I wanted to. I couldn’t say no to a man so alpha, so demanding, so delicious. So I bent over immediately, the smell of my female cream already thick in the air, making his nostrils twitch, my pussy already moist, plush and engorged.

  “Here Mr. Marks,” I said softly, my head between my legs as I spread my knees a bit. “It’s yours.”

  And I could feel his gaze on me, scorching my kitty as I wiggled it a bit, baiting him.

  “More?” I giggled, and then gasped as the first stream of hot jizz hit the backs of my thighs. Had he really? Oh my god, he had. His dick was out, pulsing and heavy, and Tristan stroked it madly, groaning as he milked his pole, the jism erupting in spurt after spurt. Holy fuck, there was just so much. It positively drenched my skin, and I was stock still in shock before coming to my senses.

  “Higher, higher,” I pleaded and Tristan obliged. He aimed his dick upwards until the tip was almost brushing my clit and spurted again, heaving the last few ejaculations straight onto my pussy. Holy shit, it was so wrong. So absolutely, devastatingly wrong. This man was my guardian, or former guardian to be exact. Even still, he was at least twenty years older than me, double my age, and I lived in his house. There have to be rules against this, right?

  But even if there are rules, there are no rules for emotions, because I wanted it with a knowing thrill through my frame, a delicate shiver in my cunt. I’d been expecting a quiet meal at home, alone with the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the corner, and instead I’d been bathed in my guardian’s seed, the hot jism spurting against my thighs, running down my legs.

  And oh god, oh god, it was so wrong. So absolutely wrong in every way, and yet the temptation was so strong, pulling me hard, making my body quiver. How could one man do this to me? How had I been transformed into a willing, nubile siren, desperate for Mr. Marks? I had to stop. This had to stop, but I wasn’t sure how.

  So later, I trembled under the spray of the shower later, eyes closed, letting the steaming water pound against my body, re-living the dinner in my mind. It shouldn’t have felt good, Mr. Marks’s jism on my skin should have repulsed me, should have made me jump back in horror, calling 9-1-1 immediately. But instead, I’d loved it. I’d eaten it up, showing him my pussy, begging him to pulse against my hole. What the hell was wrong with me? Did I want to get pregnant?

  Holy shit, I couldn’t. We couldn’t, this was playing with fire. My mom would roll over in her grave if she knew this was happening, that I’d let Tristan touch me, that I wanted him to touch me. I was letting down my mother’s sacred memory, desecrating her grave with my actions. But the thing is, I was dying for more. I wanted to taste, to touch, to experience the physical with a real man, and Tristan was all that … in spades.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Daisy

  I haven’t seen Mr. Marks for about a week now but I hope he remembers our meeting with Mr. Ranger tonight. It’s weird, after that dinner he disappeared again and I ate several meals alone in the big dining room, the silence deafening, chewing silently, miserable in my own company.

  And because I haven’t seen him, I haven’t gotten the chance to remind him in person about our meeting. So earlier that morning, I’d called his office hesitantly.

  “Is Mr. Marks available?” I’d asked Penny, his secretary.

  “And who is this?” asked a clipped voice.

  “Oh um, it’s Daisy,” I mumbled. Why, oh why, was I shy all of a sudden? It wasn’t even him on the phone.

  But his secretary’s voice warmed ever so slightly.

  “Let me check,” she said, her fingers clacking away at the keys. And she was back in a sec, efficient and business-like. “Yes, you and your guest are expected at Marks Holdings at 5:30 p.m. today. Please be on time,” she said in a clipped voice.

  This didn’t bode well. I thought we’d have a meeting at home, something short and informal in the drawing room by the front door. That way Mr. Ranger could get a glimpse of the amazing Marks mansion but leave as soon as it was over.

  But it seems that Tristan had pulled the rug out from under me and turned this into a full-on business meeting at the company offices. Calm down, I scolded myself, the meeting will be over in five minutes, it’s no big deal. Tristan’s a busy man, it’s nothing.

  So I got ready slowly before taking a cab to the imposing corporate headquarters of Marks Holdings. And once on the forty-fifth floor, my nerves jangled. In my skirt and button-down shirt, I looked hopelessly like a student, awkward and geeky, my heels clacking uncomfortably loud on the waxed floors. Why hadn’t someone told me that stilettos would be so loud in these imposing corridors? This was so over my head, I was an imposter, someone who didn’t belong among these busy professionals.

  And minute by minute, the tension only grew, a serious case of nerves. Bland muzak buzzed in my ears, the air conditioning droning, a freezing blast of air blowing down the back of my blouse. I could feel a cold trickle of sweat trailing down my back, chilly and uncomfortable. Where was Mr. Ranger? Where was that goddamn English teacher when you needed him, to get this over with? But that was unfair, and I knew it. Get with it, I scolded myself. It’s just a meeting between two men, you’ll be out of here in five, I reminded myself. But it was more than that. It was seeing Tristan again, and my body was already going into over-drive with anticipation.

  Nervously, I tiptoed to reception.

  “Hi, can I use the bathroom please?” I asked, voice wavering, teetering a bit in my heels.

  “Oh sure honey,” said the older lady. “It’s just around the
corner.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, and tottering off, I made my way to privacy. Another trail of cold sweat slid down my back, and my temples were slightly moist, hands clammy. Was I having an allergic reaction of some sort?

  But when I got into the restroom, my worst fears were confirmed. Instead of coming across as cool, confident and poised, I looked exactly the opposite – a high school student completely out of her element, sweaty and overheated with wet blotches under my armpits.

  Shit! I couldn’t go in looking like this. Checking to make sure there was no one else in the restroom, I whipped off my blouse. Maybe if I held it under the hand dryer, I could get the wet stains out or at least dry it so that they weren’t so visible. Stretching the material out as best I could, I held the fabric under the machine as it roared to life, powerful gushes of air blasting.

  Stay with it, I calmed myself. Stay with it. And maybe it was the white noise of the dryer, the feel of warm air reassuring, but as I waited, my nerves began to ease. What was I so worried about? It was a meeting between two alpha males, sure, but they could handle themselves. I just had to sit and be there, nod at the right times, and everything would be fine. What was wrong with me? Why was I questioning myself?

  As my confidence began returning, I checked myself in the mirror sideways, eyeing my cleavage. Although I’ve stopped wearing underwear, I haven’t had the luxury of going bra-free. It’s impossible given that my girls are so huge now, it’d be positively obscene to go without some support. So I turned to the side, admiring how my girls were like the prow of a boat and winked at myself in the mirror, mentally reminding myself to buck up, things would be fine.

  Suddenly, an idea came over me. The best thing to do before the meeting, to get myself into a self-possessed, assertive state of mind, would be to orgasm. I needed to let myself go for a bit, let the heebee-jeebies out, and then I’d be fine. It was only 5:20 p.m. now. I had ten minutes still, no one had shown up and maybe Tristan would be late. Could I do it? Biting my lip, I spread my blouse out on the counter, noting with satisfaction that the wet spots were almost gone and tip-toed over to the restroom door, locking it with a quiet snick. Could I?