Daddy's Dirty Girl: Bred by My Daddy 4 (taboo breeding sex) (7 page)

She took a deep breath and
searched his face for some sign that he was lying, playing a joke,
or anything else. Mari just could not believe something like this
was happening to her, not her. She was the girl with the strange
glasses and bad taste in movies. She was not a person to be
worshiped by gorgeous, powerful men.
 

This just can’t be, she told
herself, but as he moved close again and put his hands on her hips,
there was no denying reality.
 

When he touched her this
time, it was his fingers closing around her wrists. He pushed her
sleeves up her forearms, and kissed her wrists one at a time. The
warmth of his lips traced the tendons on the undersides of her
arms, up, up, up until her sleeves bared as much arm as they
could.

“I need,” he began before
stopping to swallow, “I need this, Marietta. I need
you.”

She had no idea how, or even
if, she should respond. As he gently slipped the jacket off over
her shoulders, Mari searched Masterson’s face again, still unable
to accept that there was no punch line, that this was no
joke.
 

After the jacket, he kissed
her again, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her neck. They
both opened their eyes as their lips parted. Mari looked up at him,
and put her trembling fingers on either side of his
face.

“There’s nothing to be
afraid of,” he said, placing his hands over hers. “Nothing at all.
May I?” His hand slid down her throat to the first button on her
tailored dress shirt. She bought it the day before she started,
after her mother told her she should wear clothes that ‘actually
fit for once.’

As she watched him, still
suspicious, she felt her inhibitions begin to fade. His piercing
blue eyes worked inside her, pried away her defenses. Began to
crumble the stone walls she built.

Mari nodded.

Button after button, until
he was down to her waist, he reverentially opened Mari’s shirt and
gently slid it back over her shoulders, then un-tucked and draped
it over the back of the chair on top of her
jacket.
 

She realized, when he turned
back to face her again, that the light in his office was a bit dim.
The gentle, orangeish glow mocked either dawn or sunset. For a
moment, her thoughts fixated comfortably on that distraction, but
Masterson brought her back to reality, back to him, when he turned
her arms over again, and instead of saying any words, just breathed
as he beheld her.

***

Daddy’s Dirty Girl: Bred by My Daddy 4

By Francis Ashe

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Daddy’s Dirty Girl: Bred by My Daddy 4

Copyright 2012 Francis Ashe

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the
express written permission of the author or publisher except for
the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

***

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses,
characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely
coincidental.