Off limits daddy, p.8
Off Limits Daddy, page 8
“Mmm,” she moans, her throat pulsing double-time as her body spasms again. “Unnnph.”
My brothers stop for a moment, their bare chests gleaming and muscular under the low lights, panting from exertion. Then, they pull out and as I watch with wide eyes, semen trickles from the woman’s sweetest spots, leaking from her pussy even as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“That was good,” the blonde murmurs coyly, not missing a beat. “But I don’t think I got enough. Ready to go again, Ryder and Rick?”
The answering rumbles from my stepbrothers assure me that soon enough, Round Two will be taking place. But I can’t stay here forever because to my shame, there’s a wet spot on the wooden floor where I’m standing. I literally dripped so much that the insides of my thighs are damp, not to mention my calves and ankles. Oh my god! Quickly, I use the hem of my nightgown to wipe things clean, and then steal quickly down the hall once more, and shut myself in my room.
God, I hope no one noticed! But my fears are unfounded because within minutes, the breathy gasps and deep grunts start once more, and my eyes are wide as I lay motionless beneath the covers. I wish, just for once, that it was me with Rick and Ryder, instead of some strange woman whom they’ll probably never see again. I wish that my stepbrothers saw me that way, as a woman to possess, rather than as a mousy nobody who happens to live in the same house as them.
But who am I kidding? I’m nothing like the busty blonde I just saw. Whereas she’s svelte with curves in all the right places, I’m short, thick and chunky in all the wrong ones. Whereas she has shining golden hair that flows like a river down her back, I have grayish-brown curls that resemble a ratty nest most days. Whereas she speaks in melodious tones, my voice sounds like a frog gasping for air. In short, Ryder and Rick will never notice me, and that’s just how life is. Tears flood my eyes even as the sounds of their lovemaking crescendo, but I plug my fingers into my ears this time around. I’ll never be the object of Ryder and Rick’s affections, and I just have to live with that fact.
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To be continued …
Filthy Twin Stepbrothers is now LIVE! Pick up your copy here.
Sneak Peek: His Candy Cane
Patrick
Patrick’s a personal trainer with a taste for curvy women.
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The girl waiting for me at the entrance to my gym is not what I expected. When her mother called, she made her daughter sound like a misshapen pile of Play-Doh that needed a firm hand.
“My daughter … well, she’s big,” Lorraine Handle told me. “You’ll need to put her through your most rigorous exercises.”
“That’s fine,” I said smoothly into the phone. “CrossFit is a challenge for most people, and even elite athletes have trouble with the regimen on occasion. I’m sure I can find something that will be right for your daughter.”
“Don’t just challenge her,” Lorraine insisted. “Make her work. Maisie has a lot of weight to lose, and her father and I are at a loss. We need this because how is she going to meet someone otherwise? You’re our last option, Mr. P. We’re depending on you.”
I bit my tongue because there are a lot of gorgeous larger women out there, as well as men who appreciate ladies with curves. Myself, for example. I love women who have some extra pounds on their frame, and actually prefer junk in the trunk to skinny minnies who are always dieting.
But as a result of Mrs. Handle’s words, I was expecting someone morbidly obese to step through the door. Perhaps she would be three hundred pounds and lumber from side to side, huffing and puffing from the stairs that lead to our front door. After all, it happens sometimes. A patient gets a warning from their doctor that they’re a candidate for gastric bypass surgery unless they lose weight, and they begin dialing all the gyms in the neighborhood in a panic. More than a few have showed up on my doorstep, hoping to turn their lives around, and I’m happy to lend my expertise. But obviously, I can’t start at level ten with clients in that state. Instead, I tailor a regimen for my trainees that fits their body type, energy requirements, nutritional habits, and fitness goals. It’s the only way to be healthy for any human being, and not just the ones looking to slim down.
But the woman before me is no giant white whale. Yes, she’s curvy, but in a good way. She has large breasts that press against her exercise top, and her hips are wide with a certain swing to them that has my mouth watering. Her buttocks are creamy and enormous, encased in tight gym leggings, which also highlight her ample thighs and narrow, shapely calves.
“You must be Maisie,” I say in a deep voice while sticking my hand out. “Hi, I’m Patrick. Also known as Mr. P.”
She flushes brightly even as that small palm is engulfed in my large one.
“You’re Mr. P?” she asks breathlessly. “Oh wow. You’re not what I expected at all.”
I grin.
“Let me guess … you were thinking gold chains, bulging guns, and a mohawk right?”
She giggles a little, flushing even more.
“Yes,” she admits. “I guess you get that a lot.”
I nod.
“Yep, sure do. But I’m glad you’re here because I’m ready for our personal training session. Are you?”
She swallows, a little nervous.
“Yeah, I am. Well, sort of. Is there a women’s locker room where I can drop my stuff off?”
I nod.
“There’s a women’s changing area right back here,” I say, leading her around the partition to a narrow hallway. “And the gym is the second door to your left. Meet me there when you’re ready?”
She nods, her breasts bobbling a bit even though they’re encased in a stretchy viscose top.
“Sure. Looking forward to it, Mr. P,” she says sassily while disappearing through the door. I stop in my tracks, the blood pounding in my temples. Holy cow, is Maisie flirting with me? I would swear yes, judging from the sassy swing of her hips and the brightness of those big brown eyes. But her mom made it sound like she was a wallflower, desperate for a guy to ask her to dance.
Stop it, the voice in my head warns. You were hired to help Maisie lose weight, and not to flirt and make-out. Get a hold of yourself.
Of course, the voice is right but I can’t help the X-rated thoughts that churn through my head. Maisie, spread eagle with her big breasts heaving, the tips hard and pebbled. Maisie, chanting my name as I give it to her hard and direct. Maisie, convulsing with ecstasy with my candy cane stuck deep inside her wet warmth. Suddenly, personal training has never sounded so good.
To be continued …
His Candy Cane is now LIVE! Get your copy here.
About the Author
Let go of your inhibitions because S.E. Law is about to take you for a wild ride with over-the-top alpha males who CLAIM their women. Fan of candy canes, popsicles, and anything rainbow.
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S.E. Law, Off Limits Daddy
