His Young Maid: A Forbidden Boss Age Gap Romance Daisy Jane (love letters to the dead TXT) 📖

smooth skin exposed. I plant my lips there, slowly, as she groans a beautiful good morning under her breath, arms stretching into the air above. I press my body to hers and run my hands up the front of her shirt, filling my palms with her breasts. She moans, pushing her perky ass into my crotch, which thickens in my jeans.

“Coffee?” she yawns, reaching for the pot, pausing when she sees it’s made. She throws her head over her shoulder, back to me. “How long have you been up?”

“An hour,” I bury my lips in that long, golden hair as I kiss the warm skin on her neck. My belly still flutters. I still ache to be inside of her, to touch her, listen to her sweet giggles and her shocked gasps—she’s still everything to me.

“Anxious?” she winks as she lifts the pot, her small arm shaking to steady it as she pours more coffee into my mug, then hers. Always putting everyone before herself.

“No,” I say, honestly. “Excited.”

Britta’s home lessons had been grueling, but because she went at the pace she wanted—nonstop from sunrise to sunset, more or less—she had passed all necessary exams after just one year. Melody was excited to have Britta a bit ahead—she could help her practice for exams. The two of them still loved baking together. We’d made many a road trip to Connecticut so they could make tiny cookies in an equally tiny condominium.

Today we were driving to Connecticut to, for the first time, see the properties I’d purchased last year. At the time, it seemed so far off for her to own her own little bakery. But now that the dream was tangible, it seemed like a perfect time to see the locations.

I kissed her neck again and enjoyed myself as I rolled one of her nipples between my fingers. “I just had some emails to answer before today’s trip.” She nods and sets her coffee down, spinning into my arms, facing me.

“You have done so much for me, Brooks,” her bottom lip moves gently, her eyes down on her fingers which tangle in my shirt. “I love you and I appreciate everything that you do for me.”

“Baby,” I set my coffee down so fast it sloshes out onto the counter. Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her, softly. “I’d do anything for you.” She nods and perches herself on her tippy toes to find my lips. A sultry look fills her eyes when our gaze meets again.

“How can I ever repay you?” the side of her mouth curls into a sinister little smile, teasing me. She raises her arms in the air, her voice merely a rumble. “Lift.”

I pull my shirt off of her and drop it to the floor.

I’ll never tire of those full, sweet breasts and how soft they feel in my hands. I love the way her little pussy gets so warm and slick when she feels how hard I am for her. She loves knowing she turns me on, it makes her so fucking wet. I reach down into her panties and slip two fingers between her folds. She moans, putting her palms flat against my chest, rolling her forehead against me.

“Oh,” she pants out, her wetness coating my fingers. I rake over her swollen clit a few times as her fingertips curl into my chest, her head rolling back and forth, wild and quick. Then, as I’m playing at the opening of her sex, threatening to impale her and pleasure her fully, she flips around and hooks her thumbs through the straps at her hips. She glances back at me once, just long enough to give me a smile so coy that my dick throbs hard in my jeans, precome spilling from me. Slowly, she tugs down her panties and exposes her smooth, sweet ass and those swollen pink lips between her thighs.

We had been having so much sex, we decided Britta should go on the pill. Actually, after just a month of being together, she told me that she couldn’t stand that she didn’t know what it really felt like to be filled by me. She said she didn’t want to let a condom have the best part of my orgasm anymore. How could I argue with that? We got her on birth control shortly after and it has been fucking amazing.

“Fuck me,” she whimpered over her shoulder. Unzipping, I pulled myself free from my pants. My cock was bright red, thick, throbbing in my hand. I’d never gotten as hard as I did when I was with Britta. When I was in a room with her, I was all testosterone and protector. She brought it out of me.

Pushing the head of my cock to her pussy, I thrusted forward, deep inside of her. She shrieked with pleasure, the noise she always made when adjusting to my size. Her tits pressed flat against the counter, I reached forward and wrapped a hand around her shoulder and neck, pulling her back against my cock.

“Fill me up, Brooks,” she panted as I stuffed myself inside of her over and over and over.

And then her ass trembled against me and her thighs threatened to give and I felt her spine go wobbly.

“That’s right, baby,” I let my hand move from her waist around to her clit, and I stroked it with one finger tip, gently but quickly. She moaned and pushed her hips down against me, impaling herself on my cock as deep as she could.

“Show me how you come,” I said, slowing myself down until I was motionless inside her, our bodies flush.

Then she started to come, her orgasm tightening on me like a vise. I wanted to ride it out—enjoy the feeling of her finding her bliss on my cock. But it felt too good and her pussy was always so fucking wet when she woke up, she was always looking for ways to tempt me. Which didn’t take much.

“Oh, Brooks,” she moaned, resting