HIS CANDY CANE
A HOLIDAY BAD BOY ROMANCE
S.E. LAW
Copyright © 2019 by S.E. Law
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ALSO BY S.E. LAW
The Boyfriend Diaries
Sweet Treats
Standalones
Naughty Relations
Playing with Them
Healing Hands
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CONTENTS
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
ABOUT THIS BOOK
My growly, gorgeous personal trainer gave me
equipment to work with that was long, thick,
heavy, and hard.
I’ve been teased about my large size since I was a
kid.
So this Christmas season, I decide to take matters
into my own hands.
The gym has always been my personal hell, but not
anymore because I’ve hired a professional trainer.
What I didn’t expect is for my trainer to be so …
huge.
Patrick Walker has muscles that go on for days, a
six pack that bulges, and a glint in his eyes that says
come and get your bad boy.
Plus, he keeps giving it to me non-stop.
The sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups are killing me.
I strain and stretch, hoping to rid myself of my
curves by December 25.
But what if my gorgeous trainer says he likes my
hills and valleys?
What if he says I look ripe and plush and ready for
a candy cane because of them?
Will we do the taboo? Or will my trainer’s candy
cane go uneaten?
Curvy girls unite! Maisie learns to love her curves
in this fun-filled tale of slick sweat, Christmas
ornaments, and candy canes. Don’t worry – she
doesn’t lose her curves and instead, learns to love
them with the help of OTT alpha male Patrick
Walker, and his hard, sweaty workouts. Even
better – Patrick gives her a bouncing baby by the
end! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an
HEA for my readers.
M
1
MAISIE
y mom strides into the kitchen with her
hands behind her back.
“Oh no, what is it?” I ask, instantly
suspicious. Today’s my birthday and I’m turning
twenty-five. It’s a little bit disheartening, to be
honest, because in my twenty-five years I haven’t
accomplished much. I have my job as an assistant
at a vet’s office, but it doesn’t pay very well, so I
still live at home. I also have my beat-up old Jetta
circa 1999 that has over two hundred thousand
miles on it. Even if it’s ancient, at least it’s mine,
and it still runs just fine.
But now, I eye my mom as she walks over with
a big smile on her face.
“Daddy and I got you something special for
your birthday,” she says a little too brightly.
I stare at her.
“But why don’t you give it to me tonight, when
Aunt Mildred and Uncle Bertrand are here? I
thought we were going to have dinner together for
my birthday, with a cake and candles too.”
My mom nods.
“Yes, but this is a very special gift, so Daddy
and I wanted to give it to you beforehand, without
anyone else to see.”
Uh oh. I brace myself for something bad.
“You don’t even want to wait for Dad to come
home?” I ask weakly. “I’m sure he’d like to
participate.”
Lorraine shakes her head.
“Nope, Daddy and I talked about it, and we
want to give this gift now because it’s a special
present from us to you.”
Uh oh. Those words bring up bad memories. It
reminds me of the time my mom got me a Harvard
sweatshirt for my tenth birthday. I loved the
maroon color with the Lux et Veritas motto on the
front, but I couldn’t help but feel terrible because
even back then, I knew I wasn’t going to Harvard.
I’m not an Ivy League type of girl, and sure
enough, after high school, I enrolled in a two-year
program at my local community college. It worked
out fine because I got an Associate’s degree in
Veterinary Science, and got hired as a vet tech
almost immediately after graduation.
But I feel bad letting down my parents. They’ve
always wanted me to do something magnificent
with my life, like re-invent the Internet or fly to the
moon. The problem is that my dreams are small by
comparison, and Lorraine and Henry don’t realize
that I’m happy the way I am. Maybe I’m not going
to be an international super model or a Nobel-prize
winning scientist, but at least I contribute to the
world. The sick and injured animals that come to
my workplace need my help, and I’m always happy
to lend a gentle touch and a loving hand.
Unfortunately, my parents don’t exactly see it
that way.
“You’re twenty-five, and you have a degree,”
my dad said just the other day. “You should be able
to buy yourself a new car at least. Your old
clunker’s not looking so good.”
I took a deep breath.
“I know, Dad, but that’s the thing. I want to
save money and maybe donate some funds to our
local animal shelter once I amass enough. My car
works just fine, and besides, I like the rust orange
color of my Jetta. It’s cute, and you can’t see the
scratches because of the color.”
My mom shook her head, her eyes puzzled and
sad.
“But Maisie, we want more for you. We want
you to go out and explore, and to see the world.
Every day, you go to work, come home to eat
dinner, and then go to bed before repeating the
cycle all over again the next day. Why? For what?
You have so much to offer, and you’re not meeting
your maximum potential.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, sticking my
chin out. That’s the kind of phrase my parents are
always using: maximum potential. Being a dreamer.
Reaching for the stars. It really gets under my skin
because pop psychology doesn’t work. I swear,
Lorraine and Henry read books of affirmations
non-stop, and listen to recordings of motivational
speakers all the time. I want to shake them until
their teeth rattle while screaming, “It’s bullshit! My
dreams are small dreams, and I’m happy with that
okay? Why can’t you be happy for me too?”
But my parents will never be satisfied. They’re
still wondering what they did wrong in bringing up
a daughter with quote-unquote “no ambition.”
That’s part of the reason I’m afraid of the gift that
Lorraine has behind her back. I’m sure it’s
something like a daily journal so that I can begin
memorializing my loftiest goals, or some kind of
guided video with the latest guru so that I can start
plotting how to take over the world.
Lorraine’s now standing before me at the
kitchen
table,
practically
quivering
with
excitement.
“Okay Mom,” I say tiredly. “Let’s have it.”
She frowns for a moment.
“You know, Maisie, you could be a little more
grateful. Your dad and I thought long and hard
about what would make for a meaningful birthday
gift, and I think you’ll really enjoy this one.”
“You mean, like the time you signed me up for
Astronaut Camp one summer, and how much I
appreciated that?”
Lorraine frowns at the memory because when I
was twelve, my parents thought enrolling me in
NASA’s Space Camp would be beneficial.
Hopefully it would “expand my horizons” and I’d
become
a
junior
astronaut
in
training.
Unfortunately, not only were the math and science
classes way over my head, but the so-called pilot
simulations made me sick. For a week straight, I
came home with vomit on my clothes. The
experience was ugly, smelly, and completely
revolting in every way.
So I fix my mom with an exasperated look.
“Okay, let’s have it,” I say. “What is it?”
My mom’s expression brightens and her blonde
bob bounces up and down as she pulls her hands
out from behind her back.
“Ta-da!” she sings. “Here you go!”
I stare at the laminated plastic card in her palm,
squinting.
“Mr. P’s CrossFit? What is that?”
She laughs joyously, her eyes dancing with
enthusiasm.
“Haven’t you heard of CrossFit sweetheart? It’s
the newest exercise routine. Evidently, there’s a
real focus on strength training and muscle building,
and Daddy and I think you’ll really like it.”
I stare at my mom.
“But I hate working out.”
Lorraine rolls her eyes and blows air from her
nose in exasperation.
“Yes, I know, sweetheart, which is exactly why
we got you this gift for your birthday. This will
inspire you to exercise more because we signed you
up for one on one training session with Mr. P
himself. You’re going to work with a personal
trainer once a week for the next couple months so
that you come out a lean, mean, sexy machine.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Is this about my weight again? I swear, Mom,
haven’t you and Dad given up on that by now?
Especially after sending me to chubby camp?”
I’m referring to the summer when I was fifteen,
and my parents shipped me off to a campground in
Maine where I was supposed to lose thirty pounds
in two months. I hated it. All we did was exercise
for six hours a day, and I got so hungry that I ate
like a crazed woman at every meal. Instead of
losing thirty pounds, I put on fifteen, much to
Lorraine and Henry’s dismay. I think they might
even have asked for their money back. But in my
opinion, it was just another ill-fated attempt by my
parents to push my life in a direction in an
inadvisable way.
When will they understand that I’m a twenty-
five year-old woman who doesn’t need their
guidance anymore? When will they give up trying
to turn me into someone I’m not? After all, I’m fine
financially, and I’m happy with my job, my social
life, and my little Jetta. I suppose since I live at
home, my parents think that they still get a say in
my life, which I guess they do to some extent. But
still, their nosiness and attempts to help are so
annoying.
I stare at Lorraine.
“Mom, CrossFit is for insane people, haven’t
you heard? The women come out of it looking like
muscleheads. It’s okay for guys to get really
pumped and huge, but do you want me looking like
a female bodybuilder by the end?”
Lorraine giggles, her blonde bob bouncing.
“Of course not, honey. It’s just that your father
and I want you to stand on your own two feet, and
we thought CrossFit would help you get there.”
“But how?” I ask with puzzlement. “CrossFit
will help me get in shape, but it’s not going to help
me become more of an adult, if that’s what you’re
looking for.”
My mom sighs, easing herself into the chair
across from me. Lorraine has always been slim, and
she’s probably at least forty pounds less than me.
To her credit, she doesn’t compare our body types
because I take after my dad, with his round, stocky
frame.
“Well, Maisie, your father and I want what’s
best for you, and you’re still living at home. You’re
twenty-five now, and it’s clear that your job as a
vet tech is never going to pay enough so that you
can afford to move out on your own. As a result,
we want you to slim down a bit so that you can find
the right man. Maybe you’ll hit it off, and you’ll be
able to move in with him, get married, and have a
family.”
I hold up a hand, palm out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mom. You’re going at
lightspeed here. Who said anything about having a
family?”
My mom merely sighs.
“It’s not about grandbabies per se. It’s just …
well, have you seen that movie Failure to Launch,
honey?”
I stare at her.
“You
mean
the
one
where
Matthew
McConaughey plays an adult man who still lives
with his parents?”
My mom smiles and brightens.
“Yes, that one!” she nods. “I’m just saying that
Daddy and I don’t want you to be like the Matthew
McConaughey character. We want to get you out
there and do something with yourself. The world is
your oyster!”
I stare at her.
“Mom, this sounds like a thinly-veiled attempt
to kick me out of the house.”
Lorraine shrugs.
“Would that be so bad, Maisie? Finding the love
of your life and moving in with a nice man is a
natural progression for a young woman, and your
dad and I want you to have these experiences. It’s
not that bad, Maisie. I did it. You’re just stuck in a
rut right now, and going to boot camp will help push
you out of that stuck space.”
My mom’s reasoning makes my head spin, and
this conversation is beginning to sound scarily like
her pep talks for Astronaut School and Fat Camp.
“Mom, I’ve never done well at the things you
sign me up for. I always do best at the things I
choose for myself, like vet school.”
My mom makes a pshaw noise with her mouth.
“Maisie, the vet tech thing is fine, don’t get me
wrong. But you make … what, thirty thousand a
year? Forty thousand?”
“Twenty-five,” I say in a tight voice.
“Exactly!”
Lorraine
says
triumphantly.
“Twenty-five thousand is a pittance, and you’ll
never be able to afford your own apartment unless
you earn more. Unfortunately, the career
progression for a vet tech doesn’t seem to be very
promising, so Daddy and I figured helping you find
a guy would make more sense. Maybe with your
combined incomes, you can find an apartment
together!” she sings brightly.
I stare at her again.
“Mom, seriously. Are you trying to get rid of
me?”
Immediately, Lorraine’s expression grows
innocent.
“Of course not, honey. Daddy and I love having
you live with us, but enough is enough, don’t you
think? Don’t you want to have your own space?
Privacy is a luxury in this economy.”
The truth is that of course, I’d love to have an
apartment to call my own. Imagine that: getting up
in the morning without having to share a breakfast
table with my parents. I could even adopt a rabbit,
a cat, and a dog, which I’ve been longing to do for
ages. My dad is allergic to any kind of animal fur,
so we only have our one bird, Cookie, who’s addled
in the brain if you ask me.
I fix my mother with a look.
“Of course I’d love to move out, but isn’t this a
roundabout way of doing it? You think that by
slimming down, I’ll meet someone, fall madly in
love and then find my own apartment?”
My mom nods.
“Yes, precisely,” she says with satisfaction. “It
all starts with you getting healthy, Maisie. You’re
too big the way you are, and too many boys are
taking a pass at dating a bigger girl. Don’t get me
wrong, honey,” she says quickly. “Your dad and I
think you look fine, but CrossFit is just the thing to
shock your system. We did some research, and it’s
a difficult routine, but don’t worry: working one-
on-one with Mr. P is going to make it bearable.
He’ll whip you into shape in no time, and soon
you’ll have a dozen men asking for your hand.”
I merely shake my head because it’s useless to
argue at this point. My parents have been trying to
slim me down now for over a decade, but to no
avail. Fat Camp didn’t do it, nor did the diet shakes
nor Weight Watchers. I think they wanted me to
enlist in the Army after graduation in the hopes that
Basic Training would help me shed some pounds,
but I put my foot down there. I wasn’t going to risk
the chance of going off to war just to lose some
weight. No thank you to bullets and missiles,
although I highly appreciate the dedicated service
of our vets.
But there’s no way to get my point across to my
parents. They’ve been this way for as long as I can
remember, and the rah-rah aspect of their
personalities is annoying but also well-meaning. As
a result, I merely take the membership card from
my mom and smile weakly at her.
“Thanks. When does the personal training
start?”
“Tomorrow is your first session,” Lorraine says
happily while folding her hands. “Mr. P is expecting
you after work at 6 p.m. I already told him that you
work until five every day, so he was willing to tack
on some after-hours to see you personally.”
I smile sourly.
“Great. So I’m already indebted to him before
we even begin.”
“No, of course not!” my mom scolds. “Put on a
happy face, Maisie, because a bad attitude isn’t
going to get you off on a good foot. Work hard,
smile, and soon those pounds will come sliding off
just like melting ice. You’ll be a new woman, and
before soon, you’ll be married and buying a starter
house with your new husband.”
Again, my mom is way ahead of herself, but I
figure it’s easier just to nod and smile.
“Okay,” I say, flipping the card over to
scrutinize the fine print. “I see the gym is
downtown. That’s great. It looks like it’s only three
blocks from where I work, in fact.”
“Mm-hmm!” Lorraine prattles happily. “Like I
said, your dad and I did a lot of research already,
sweetheart. We don’t want you to have any reason
to quit, so the timing and location should be
perfect. You’re going to have a great time, and
come out refreshed, renewed, and revitalized.
Those are the three R’s to any successful life.”
I smile again, trying not to cringe. The go get
‘em motivational cheers that Lorraine and Henry
employ are really unneeded, but it’s fine. They’ve
already paid for a few months of personal training
sessions, so why not use them? Maybe by
Christmas, I’ll have shed a few pounds although I
highly doubt I’ll be a “new woman” as my mom
proclaims. With one last smile, I tuck the card into
my pocket.
“Thanks Mom,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
She leans forward and gives me a peck on the
cheek.
“Your dad and I love you, Maisie. Knock ‘em
dead, tiger!”
Cringing internally, I smile again while
reminding myself that my parents were born this
way, and just as they can’t change me, I can’t
change them. But I can still feel the hard edges of
the membership card poking at my skin through the
stiff denim of my jeans. What is this Mr. P going to
be like? Is he merely a Mr. T, but with a P instead
of a T? Will he have a mohawk, chains, and a cut-
off denim vest? I’m not looking forward to personal
training, but who knows? There’s a first time for
everything, and maybe it won’t be so bad.
“L
2
MAISIE
ionel, I’m leaving!” I call from the
front door of the vet’s office. “Can
you lock up and shut off the lights
when you leave tonight?”
Lionel’s pasty face pops out from around the
corner and he gives me a thumbs up.
“Sure thing, Maisie,” he lisps. “Will do.”
Despite his gross appearance, I have to
appreciate Lionel as a co-worker because our
duties are split pretty well: I handle the cute, fun,
and furry animals, whereas Lionel handles the
reptiles and amphibians. I don’t love working with
lizards, geckos, and the like because their eyes
bulge and their skin is clammy. Give me a puppy or
a kitten any day, and I wouldn’t trade the little
critter for a barrelful of fish.
Plus, Lionel is responsible, which I can
appreciate. Before he started, we had a girl named
Mylie, who was annoying for two reasons: one,
because everyone got our names mixed up, despite
the fact that she’s about five inches taller and fifty
pounds less than me. Second, because Mylie was
flaky. More than once, she left the gecko cages
open, only to find them all gone in the morning.
There’s no way to catch those slick reptiles once
they’ve escaped. They disappeared into the air
vents or the sink holes, and that was that. Sayonara.
But now, the day’s over and I’m on my way to
CrossFit with Mr. P. I’m not looking forward to it,
so I trudge slowly down the sidewalks of
Morningdale, despite the fact that I should be
speedwalking in order to get there on time. I
purposefully hung out later at my workplace in
order to put off the inevitable, but unfortunately,
there’s only so long a woman can stall. I’m
probably about to get the living daylights beat out
of me through a series of hard-core exercises, all
the while pouring sweat and looking gross. Ugh.
Plus, today I watched a couple of CrossFit
videos on my phone at work and it was terrifying.
One guy grabbed hold of an iron bar and began
doing pull-ups like he couldn’t get enough of them.
It was literally up-down-up-down so fast that I
could hardly breathe. Then, he let go of the pull-up
bar and immediately launched into fifty push-ups at
lightspeed, before bouncing to his feet and running
three laps just for fun.
Who does that? Why would anyone subject
themselves to this kind of punishment? If I were
doing a workout like that, I would undoubtedly
vomit from the exertion, and then keel over, dead-
tired. I can’t even do one pull-up now, much less a
series of them, so what’s the point in even trying?
But I have to go through this because my
parents have already pre-paid for the personal
training sessions, and there’s no point in wasting
their money. Besides, it’s a well-meaning birthday
gift, so I might as well make the most of it.
Ah-ha. Here it is. I slow to a stop in front of a
door with a small sign on it that says “Mr. P’s
CrossFit.” Ugh. Slowly, I push it open, revealing a
small, empty reception area.
“Hello?” I call, stepping into the space. “Is
anyone here?”
There’s no sound, which is odd because I
expected to see a gym filled with lugheads grunting
and straining. Instead, all I can see is a reception
desk and some lockers over on the left. Everyone
must be in the back, although it’s still eerily silent.
“Hello?” I call again, nervously jiggling my bag
on my shoulder. “I have a personal training session
at six p.m. Is anyone here?”
With that, muffled footsteps sound and a huge
man appears from behind the wall. I gasp because
he’s absolutely gorgeous. He has to be at least six
foot four, with thick chestnut hair brushed off his
forehead, and blue eyes that remind me of a sunny
day sparkling off the Caribbean seas. He’s also
perfectly toned and fit: broad shoulders emphasize
the width of his chest, and he’s wearing a muscle-T
that shows off a rock-hard stomach. Not only that,
but as my eyes drift lower, I let out an involuntary
gasp because there’s that. Ohmygod ohmygod. Mr.
P has a giant candy cane inside his gym shorts, and
judging from his cocky grin, it’s all for me.
T
3
PATRICK
he 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 flirtatious 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.
I
4
MAISIE
let myself out of the locker room to step into
the hallway. Every cell in my body feels alive,
like I’ve been sleeping for centuries only to be
awakened a gorgeous prince. After all, Patrick is
definitely very prince-like. He’s tall, handsome,
with the charisma and confidence of an alpha male,
not to mention the anatomy of a male stallion.
After all, I can’t get the image out of my mind. I
keep seeing his penetrating blue eyes, of course,
but I also keep seeing that enormous bulge in his
gym pants. Most men wear loose basketball shorts,
but not my personal trainer. He was wearing
compression leggings that not only highlighted his
thick tree trunk thighs, but also the giant snake that
was so big that it reached almost to his knee.
His knee? the voice in my head scoffs. Please,
Maisie, get real. That’s only in the dirty movies
you’ve been watching on your phone.
I blush because the voice has a point. I’ve
never been with a man in real life, but that doesn’t
mean I don’t enjoy some of the free videos on-line
every now and then. In fact, I find them kind of
fun. There are all sorts of X-rated clips that titillate
me, and sometimes after my parents are asleep, I’ll
pull the covers over my head and flip on my phone
for some raunchy viewing.
But that’s the thing. It’s fun to watch the videos
and my battery-operated boyfriend does his job just
fine. But sadly, there have been no men in real life.
There were some boys at my community college
who asked me out, but I found them uninspiring
and always said no. They were immature, with
greasy skin and ill-fitting clothes. More recently,
Lionel’s asked me out a few times, much to my
chagrin. My co-worker thinks he’s got it going on,
but I always say no, stating that we can’t date
because we’re co-workers. To be honest, there are
no rules at the vet’s office about dating another
employee, but I just say that there are so that it’s
easier to get Lionel off my back.
But now, I’ve seen manhood in its full glory,
and my mouth falls open with the memory of
Patrick’s member because I didn’t know that guys
like that actually exist in real life. He must be at
least ten inches long and so thick that it’s difficult
to get a rubber on. What would it feel like to have
that in me? Would I moan with pleasure or squirm
with discomfort? Would he be gentle or ruthless?
My body grows moist and hot merely thinking
about it.
Unfortunately, I can’t let on that I’m having
these thoughts because it would be humiliating if he
knew. Of course, how any woman controls herself
around such masculinity is beyond me, but before
opening the door to the gym, I force myself to take
a deep breath and try to calm my pounding pulse.
Down girl, the voice in my head warns. You’re here
to work out, and not for sexy times.
But when I open the door and glimpse Patrick
again, every nerve in my body leaps to life because
he’s absolutely mouth-watering. At the moment,
he’s turned around fastening a weight to a machine,
and I can’t help but appreciate those firm male
buttocks. They look like they’re as hard and steel,
and I long to run my tongue along that heavenly
musculature.
“Hi,” I stammer. “Sorry I took so long.”
For the first time in my life, I’m glad that
Lorraine made me invest in some sexy work-out
clothes. After all, left to my own devices, I’d be
wearing shapeless sweats that have seen better
days. But instead, I’ve stripped off my gym top to
reveal a sports bra, and I know it highlights my
generous Double Ds. In fact, my girls strain at the
tight material, bulging a little bit from the sides and
I giggle as Patrick stares involuntarily.
“You like my outfit?” I ask teasingly.
He merely shakes his head.
“Are you sure that’s going to stay on today?
We’re doing some pretty rigorous stuff.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I say merrily. “If your tight
spandex can keep your junk in the trunk, then my
tight spandex can definitely keep my girls in check.
Trust me,” I say.
One eyebrow rises and a dark flush descends on
his sharp cheekbones.
“Oh, is that so?” he growls.
“It is,” I chirp merrily. But then I look around
with confusion. “But where is everyone? Why isn’t
anyone here? Is today a slow day or something?”
After all, the gym is completely empty, and I
don’t hear a sound, which means there isn’t another
soul hiding behind the weights or the towering stack
of mats.
Patrick merely grins.
“It’s empty because we’re having a personal
one-on-one session. Did you expect something
different?”
I nod, my brows knitting together.
“Well, yes. I mean, there are tons of lockers in
the locker room, and I thought that while we were
having our personal training session, other people
would be using the gym. You know, running, lifting
weights, et cetera.”
Patrick merely shrugs and grins.
“Yeah, that’s what happens in regular gyms, but
my gym is different. We’re an elite, exclusive
outfit, and as a result, it’s just me and my client a
lot of the time. When we’re working out, there’s no
one else present, which a lot of customers
appreciate because they value their privacy. We do
have some open hours each afternoon when
members can come in to exercise on their own, but
for the most part, it’s just one on one discipline.”
My heart begins racing.
“So for the entire fifty minutes it’ll just be you
and me?” I ask quizzically.
He grins, blue eyes gleaming.
“That’s right, Maisie. Why, are you scared?”
Immediately, I stand up straighter.
“Of course I’m not! I’m just asking because I’m
surprised.”
He grins, flashing bright white teeth, and if I’m
not mistaken, the air between us is pulsing with
tension … sexual tension to be exact.
“Good,” he says. “Then let’s get started. On
your back,” he commands. “Now.”
I stare at him, and then at the mat on the floor
he’s laid out. It’s blue, flat, and beckoning to me. I
hot shiver runs over my body and my knees tremble
slightly. Oh my gosh, things are already starting to
get steamy between me and my hunky personal
trainer, and I can’t wait.
M
5
PATRICK
aisie stands there for a moment, her
breasts trembling.
“What are you waiting for?” I
growl. “I said, get on the mat.”
She gasps, flashing me a look with her big
brown eyes, but then she gets down like I’ve
ordered. The curvy girl lies on her back when her
knees up in a vee with her sneakered feet flat on
the ground.
“Like this?” she asks in a tremulous voice.
I can barely answer because she’s so gorgeous
spread out before me. Her curves are hilly and lush,
with those giant breasts like fluffy mounds
balanced against her chest. I’d love to pop one out
of her sports bra right now and suckle on the tip,
but that would be unprofessional. After all, I’m
here to help her lose weight.
But the truth is that Maisie doesn’t need to lose
weight because she’s perfect as she is. Many times,
when women drop weight they don’t realize that
the structures that keep them looking feminine are
going to go right down the drain. For example, their
boobs will sag and they’ll develop saddle bags on
their hips from excess loose flesh. In fact, if I were
going to have heart-to-heart with Maisie right now,
I’d ask her not to diet. I’d recommend that she gain
some weight in order to fully flesh out her figure,
and to make her look even more womanly. Twenty
more pounds sounds just about right.
But I can’t say that right now as the plush girl
looks up at me, breathing shallowly through her
nose.
“What next?” she murmurs.
I growl, getting down on my knees next to her.
“We’re going to do some stretching because
before you work out, you should always stretch.
Otherwise, the risk of injury is higher, and you
could seriously pull a muscle.”
I can feel her temperature skyrocket as those
large breasts quiver.
“Oh yes, of course,” she babbles a little.
“Stretching. Definitely.”
With that, she pulls one knee up to her chest,
squashing her generous bosom with the back of one
thigh. I almost groan and my hardness twitches as
her creamy white flesh bulges from the side of her
sports bra. Holy shit, this woman is bursting out of
her clothes, and I’ve never wanted to see a woman
nude as badly as I want to see Maisie. She must
look like a goddess: wanton, fleshy and fertile.
After all, I’m done with hardbodies. They come
into my gym, with their stiff-as-rock muscles and
eight-pack abs. But the thing is that women who
look like that don’t appeal to me because they
almost resemble men. I like females who are curvy
and plush, with moist bits and giggly laughs. I like
them soft and generous, with sweet smiles and a
welcoming look in their eyes. By contrast, the alpha
females who work out at Mr. P’s often have low
voices from testosterone shots and bronzed muscles
that feel like soda cans when you touch them.
That doesn’t mean that they’re not women
though. They still book me for personal training
sessions, but I’m always very deferential and
courteous during those sessions. I call them
“Ma’am” or “Mrs. So-and-So” and avert my eyes
whenever we do exercises involving the chest or
groin. I also wear loose t-shirts and basketball
shorts when working with my other female clients
because I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.
But somehow, I knew that Maisie was going to
be different. When her mother called, I had a
feeling deep in my gut that this curvy girl was going
to be right up my alley, and sure enough, she is. I
need to stay focused and professional, but
unfortunately, the snake in my pants has a mind of
its own. It’s stiffening and hardening, and
goddamnit, but I think it’s already beginning to
leak. Hopefully, the wet spot isn’t showing,
otherwise my sweet customer is going to go running
for the hills.
“Mr. P, am I doing this right?” Maisie asks
while lifting her knee to her chest and squeezing it
tight. “Should I do the same thing with my other
leg?”
I shake my head.
“Let me help you get a better stretch,” I say,
taking her calf in one hand. “Now extend your leg,
and let me press it over your shoulder.”
We get into a very close position where we’re
almost face to face despite the fact that I have her
outstretched left leg in both of my hands. Slowly, I
press it backwards, and she moans at the delicious
stretch.
“Oooh, I can feel that in the area behind me
knee,” she squeals. “It’s tight!”
“It is,” I growl. “One. Two. Three. Hooooold.
Now relax.”
With that, I let go of her leg, and slowly bring it
back down to rest on the mat. Then I pick up her
other leg.
“Same thing on this side,” I rumble. “Ready?”
She nods, and gently, I push back on the leg
until that one too is high up behind her ear. We’re
face to face again, albeit with one curvy thigh
between us, and I can see her nostrils flaring gently
with my proximity.
“That feels good,” she manages in a slightly
strangled voice. “I didn’t even know my leg could
go so far back.”
“It can,” I say with a slight smirk while letting
her appendage drift slowly back to the floor. “I’m
here to push you to new heights so that your body
can do things you never imagined. Now, let’s get
both legs stretched at once.”
Maisie nods.
“What should I do?”
“Hold your legs out wide,” I command. “Like
you’re doing the air splits, with each big toe pointed
at different corners of the room.”
Her eyes widen because it’s going to be a dirty
position. In fact, she’ll basically be baring her
sweetness to me, even though it’s covered with
fabric at the moment.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispers. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm,” I nod. “If you can’t do the splits,
I’ll help you.”
“I can’t do them,” she confirms. “I’ve never
been that flexible, not even when I was a kid.”
I nod.
“No worries. Just give it a try, and we’ll see
how it goes.”
Slowly, Maisie nods and takes a deep breath
before stretching her legs apart and lifting them up
with a hand under each thigh. Her breasts strain at
her sports bra as her legs split wider and wider,
each meaty thigh making my already-stiff rod
harden even more. She strains and pulls, her brown
curls tumbling in a mass around her shoulders as
her legs form a beautiful vee, and that’s when I
catch a glimpse of what I’ve been waiting for.
Because the curvy girl is aroused and it shows.
There’s a wet spot right at the crotch of her
leggings, and I know it’s not sweat. Instead, a
glorious female musk permeates the air, and as I
sniff the delicious scent, my manhood leaps to full
power. Maisie wants this just as much as I do, and
I’m the man to show her the full power of my
candy cane staff.
P
6
MAISIE
atrick’s blue eyes flare as he takes in my
position.
“You look gorgeous like this,” he
growls.
I flush.
“I do? Oh my gosh, it feels good.”
After all, I can hardly believe this is happening.
I’m all alone with a handsome man, and I’m lying
on the floor before him with my legs split wide. In
fact, I’m parting my legs for him, as if baring my
most sensitive spot while cupping my breasts as if
in offering. But of course, that’s not true because
I’m clothed. Maybe my gym outfit is tight and
revealing, but it’s still real fabric preventing his
eyes from seeing the lush curves and moist folds
that crave his touch.
But then, Patrick surprises me. He kneels
between my legs, and those broad shoulders are so
wide that they almost block out the light from
above.
“May I, sweetheart?”
I’m not sure what he’s going to do, but it
certainly seems promising. I nod, breathing
shallowly, and a grin spreads over that handsome
face.
“Good,” he growls. One big hand goes to the
inside of my thigh and gently squeezes it before
pressing it wider. I moan melodiously and gasp
again as his other hand seizes my other thigh,
caressing the thickness of my muscle.
“You’re so curvy,” he groans beneath his
breath. “I have to—”
But before he can finish the sentence, the
impossible happens. I wear a brand called
LovelyCurves. The company makes gym clothes
especially for bigger girls, and everything is
supposed to be double-reinforced and super-strong
in order to hold everything in.
But evidently, they’ve never met Mr. P’s
CrossFit before because right when Patrick’s about
to do something delicious, the seam at my crotch
bursts. And it doesn’t just rip a little, leaving a tiny
hole at my sensitive spot. Instead, the entire groin
portion seems to come apart with a loud rrrrip!
Suddenly, my entire pussy is bare and just inches
from Patrick’s face.
“Oh my god!” I scream, immediately trying to
bring my thighs together. My knees reflexively
attempt to jerk shut, but the problem is that
Patrick’s got one hand on each of my thighs,
pressing them apart. They stay wide, and my
steamy pussy literally pulses below his hungry gaze,
my pink hole winking. “Oh my god!” I scream
again.
But my hunky personal trainer isn’t bothered in
the least. If anything, those blue eyes flare and a
muscle twitches in his jaw.
“You’re so beautiful, Maisie,” he rasps in a
hoarse voice. “Oh shit, I have to kiss it.”
Before I can move, he dips his head and lets his
tongue trace all the way from my sweetly sopping
slit to my nub. I let out a shrill scream of pleasure,
my back bucking up and coming halfway off the
mat with ecstasy.
“Oh my god!” is my helpless shriek. “Unnh!
Fuck!”
The gorgeous man doesn’t even look up. If
anything, he bends his head lower and really gets in
there, massaging the bottom of my clit with his
tongue before sucking it tight between his lips. Hot
pulses jolt through my pussy and I scream again as
nectar flows out, coating his chin.
“Unnh!” is my delirious mewl. “Oh god, oh
god, yes!”
Patrick merely grunts before letting his tongue
trail down to my hole, and then with a sly smile, he
gently eases it into my tight, wet canal.
“Oh fuck baby, you taste so good,” is his moan.
“Shit, I’ve never had a woman as sweet as you.”
To my mixed horror and delight, he begins
thrusting into my tight spot, slipping and sliding his
tongue deep into my pulsing cavern. Hot flashes
begin to sparkle through my frame and my breasts
tremble. Desperately, I let go of my thighs and pull
them from the sports bra so that they lush mounds
are out and in the open. Then I lift one to my mouth
and suckle at the nipple as Patrick thrusts his
tongue again and again into my sopping slit.
“Unnh!” I squeal. “Oh god, yes!”
It happens then. I’ve never been with a man
before, and as a result, this dirty scenario is too
much for my senses. Before I can warn him, my
body reaches its peak and bursts. My eyes roll up
into the back of my head, showing the whites, as
my femininity spasms and pulses, clenching on his
tongue.
“Eeee!” is my delighted squeal as I take
another pull from my breast. “Oh god yes!”
Patrick doesn’t even hesitate. He continues to
drink at the fountain between my legs, stroking my
trembling flesh while swallowing gulp after gulp of
hot, sweet nectar. I moan and thrash against his
mouth as electrical pulses run through my sweetest
spot, stars flying before my eyes as this man eats
me up in the best way possible.
When it’s finally over, I manage to re-orient
myself, breathing hard while staring at the
handsome man.
“What just happened?” I pant. “Did I black
out?”
He smirks a bit, those blue eyes flaring.
“No, sweetheart, you didn’t black out. But
you’re going to when you get a load from my tool
because are you ready, Maisie? It’s time for the
good stuff.”
With that, I gasp because Patrick’s pulled out
that enormous candy cane, and he’s already
seeping from the tip. It’s huge, hard, and my mouth
waters just seeing the gift coming my way.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to become a woman in full
with my handsome personal trainer.
H
7
PATRICK
oly shit, is this really happening? I have a
lush, nude woman before me on the gym
mat who’s panting and heaving from the
rush of her climax. In fact, there’s a delicious pool
of fluid right below her kitty from when she came,
and a dirty part of me wants to lean down and lick
it up.
But I won’t because it’s clear that Maisie is an
innocent. She came from me kissing and licking her
sensitive folds while tugging lightly at her nub. And
when I pushed my tongue into her hole, my tool
jerked because I came up against a barrier that only
sweet virgins have: a hymen.
It seems impossible because these days, women
lose their hymen in their teens if not earlier.
Regular exertion can do it: a vigorous game of
volleyball for example, or maybe some jumping up
and down on a trampoline. But in this case, I have a
sweet, curvy, twenty-five-year old virgin on my
hands, whom by all accounts I should leave alone.
Her mom’s not paying me to have fun with her
nubile daughter, and yet my staff’s already out and
ready, pointing straight at the curvy girl.
But to my surprise, she doesn’t pull away in
fear at my huge size. Of course, Maisie’s eyes
widen and she gasps a bit, her cheeks flushing. But
then she gives into her true nature and leans
forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip. A smear of
white graces her lips when she pulls away and I
groan, my blue eyes flashing.
“You can suck it if you want.”
She giggles a bit, worming out of her sports bra.
By now, I’ve ripped off the entirety of her leggings
so that she’s wholly nude before me, and the sight
is entrancing. She’s pink and white all over, with a
sopping slit between her legs that I can’t wait to
taste again and huge Double Ds that sway with
every movement. But right now, Maisie gets on her
knees before me like a good girl and cups my balls
in one tiny palm.
“Can I have a taste of your candy cane,
Daddy?”
I groan again.
“You sure can, honey. Suck it tight, and lick as
much as you want.”
She giggles again before leaning forward
delicately and taking the head between those plush
lips. The top of my skull almost pops off because it
feels so good but I manage to keep myself in check
by stroking through those brown curls.
“That a girl,” I groan hoarsely. “Shit, you look
beautiful doing that.”
Her eyes flicker up at me, and a sweet smile
crosses her lips even as she sucks harder. Her
cheeks hollow from the suction and a bit of male
seed jets into her mouth, which Maisie swallows
hungrily.
“Mmm,” she moans. “Daddy’s candy cane is so
tasty. I love it.”
Involuntarily, I spurt again.
“Keep this up, sweetheart, and Daddy will have
more than a few mouthfuls of the good stuff for
you,” I growl.
She giggles again and gets back to sucking,
gently tracing her tongue along the vein in my shaft
before going at it full force. My balls raise high and
tight, and I feel a surge in my groin. Holy shit, I’m
going to lose control, which is uncommon given
that I’m usually always in perfect control of my
body.
But with a haste that’s unlike me, I pull from
Maisie’s lips, the huge sucker reappearing from
between that pink pout. A trail of saliva connects
the tip to her lips and she smiles sweetly before
breaking it with a quick swipe of her tongue. Of
course, I’m enormous and glistening, which is
perfect for what I want to do next.
“Sweetheart, I told you we were going to get
you stretched out, right? Well now, I’m going to
stretch out a very special part of you.”
Maisie nods eagerly, still on her knees while
massaging her heavenly Double Ds before
corkscrewing off one tip with a finger. A ringing
pop sounds out as she moans melodically.
“Yes, Daddy, of course. I exist to be stretched
by you.”
With that, I nudge her back down so that she’s
on her hands and knees, that huge bottom in the air.
It looks amazing because her cheeks are a pure,
snowy white, ready to be defiled by an alpha male
like myself. Then I line my rod up in back of her
and gently use the tip to stroke through her swollen
folds.
“Feel this?” I rasp. “This is what’s going in
you.”
Her lashes fall shut even as those big breasts
sway in anticipation below her narrow torso.
“I know. I’m ready, Mr. P,” she whispers.
With that, I press my enormous glans against
her tiny hole. She’s moist and wet, but still so small.
Maisie lets out a long, low, throaty moan, lowering
her head so that her cheek rests against the mat.
“Oohhh, you’re so big,” she cries out.
“I know,” is my rasp. “But you can take it
sweetheart.”
With that, I begin pushing my shaft deeper into
her honey, and to her credit, she stretches and
juices more, her sweet nether lips tight like rubber
bands around my hardness.
“Oooooh!” she squeals. “Oh god!”
“We’re almost there,” I grunt under my breath.
“You feel so good, baby girl.”
My hands seize her hips, digging into the
fleshiness, and then suddenly I come to a complete
stop because it’s there. There’s a barrier, soft and
spongy, inside my girl, and I take a deep breath,
bracing for the inevitable pain. With a quick thrust
of my hips it’s done, and I’m through and fully
embedded inside.
Maisie jolts and her eyes fly open as she lets out
a squeak.
“Oooh!” is her surprised cry. “Unnnh!”
The curvy girl’s been lifted up by my pole, as if
skewered on the huge stick and she flails a bit, her
ring gripping me reflexively.
“Keep breathing, slow and easy,” I growl. “It’ll
feel really good soon enough. Just relax, Maisie.”
She squeals again but listens, trying to inhale
before exhaling once more. Stroking a large hand
down her back, I soothe the girl like a nervous filly.
“It’s going to feel good now, I promise.”
She pants and lets her head hang, still trying to
adjust to the thickness within her sweetest spot.
“I know, Mr. P,” she moans. “I can take it
now.”
With that, I withdraw slowly, watching with
avid eyes as my enormous rod reappears from her
glistening slit. Then I push back in, almost
exploding with pleasure.
The curvy girl moans and sighs, her eyes
drifting shut once more as she enjoys a man’s hard
shaft for the first time in her life.
“Oh god, I had no idea it could be like this!”
she sighs with bliss. “Unnnh, it feels good.”
“It does,” I growl. “Now get ready for a deep
pound sweetheart, because I can’t hold back
anymore.”
With that, I ease my shaft back into her tiny
hole, before slipping out and pushing back in. The
rhythm gets faster and faster, but Maisie takes my
large size like a professional. She moans and
squeals, her fingers gripping the mat as her tiny slit
is violated again and again. And then it comes.
Both of us reach our climaxes and we burst into the
heavens, stars exploding before our eyes as hot
pulses run down my shaft to splash her fertile fields
with seed.
“Oh!” is her delighted cry, hot clenches pulling
my virility in deeper to seed her ovaries. “Mmmm!”
“Fuck!” is my growly response. “Unnnh.
FUCK!”
I pound vigorously, unable to stop myself while
expelling hot reams of jism which the curvy girl
soaks up like the stuff of Heaven. She mewls and
clamps around me, her curves shaking with
pleasure even as her kitty juices flood my rod and
drip down my balls. God, how did she get so
responsive? I’ve never had a woman take my
enormous length so well on the first try.
Finally, the quaking subsides a bit, and we both
float gently down to earth. I pull out and lie back
flat on the mat before jumping to my feet and
rushing to the restroom. When I return, it’s to find
Maisie still lying on the mat with a confused
expression on her face.
“Where did you go?” she mewls, lifting her
head to look at me. “Why did you disappear like
that? I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
I growl.
“Never, sweetheart. It’s just that this is your
first time, and I want to make sure you’re taken
care of.”
With that, I press a warm, damp washcloth
between her thighs, sponging off small traces of
red. Sure enough, when I look down, there’s a
smear of blood on my shaft, and a male possession
rises in my chest like a tidal wave. It’s strong,
powerful, and undeniable because shit. This woman
gave me her innocence, and despite the taboo that
we’ve engaged in, Maisie is now mine.
I
8
MAISIE
can’t believe this is happening. I’m dating my
personal trainer, and it’s absolutely wonderful.
It’s ironic in a way because my parents only
signed me up for personal training sessions so that I
could find a boyfriend. Little did they realize, but
their dreams came true, albeit not in the way they
imagined.
Because Lorraine and Henry certainly didn’t
expect me to start dating Patrick, I’m sure. They
figured that the personal trainer would help me lose
some weight, and then I’d meet a ton of eligible
men who were attracted by my new slim figure.
“Eligible” meaning a lawyer, banker, doctor, or
some other white collar professional. Then, we’d
move in, and hopefully get married before spitting
out a couple of kids. This is all part of the “natural
progression of life,” as my parents call it.
But instead, I’ve fallen in love with Patrick, and
our time together is sensational. All sorts of
women’s magazines say that making love is a great
way to burn calories, and I have to say I agree
wholeheartedly because Patrick and I have sexy
time non-stop, and while I haven’t lost any weight,
it certainly is a work out.
Take last week for example. Patrick had me in a
swing of sorts. It’s a contraption that hangs from
the ceiling with a lot of black straps, and I looked at
it askance at first.
“What is this?” I asked with confusion. “Do
your other clients use it too?”
He grinned, blue eyes gleaming devilishly.
“Yep. It has a lot of resistance bands that you
can attach at different joints,” he said, showing me
the steel O rings on the sides. “But we’re not going
to be using it quite that way today.”
I nodded, still nonplussed. There was a small
black seat kind of like the rubber swings that you
see in kiddie playgrounds, with lots of scary-
looking attachments.
“Honestly, it looks like the Pilates exercise
machine from hell.”
Patrick threw his head back and laughed, so
mesmerizingly gorgeous with that bronzed throat
and white teeth.
“I know, sweetheart, but there’s nothing to be
afraid of. Not when I’m here. Now strip,” he
commanded, his eyes already devouring my form,
“and I’ll show you how to use the swing between
lovers.”
I blushed but with eager hands, obeyed. I love
when my man is in charge, and Patrick is an over
the top alpha male in every way. Plus, he’s
definitely more experienced than I am when it
comes to making love, and has already taught me
so many hot moves that I was only looking forward
to exploring more.
Once I was nude, I did a little jiggle, making my
breasts bounce.
“What now, Daddy?” I cooed. “What do we
do?”
With gentle hands, he guided me into the swing,
strapping me into place. That was foreseeable. But
then he lifted my legs and fastened cuffs around
knees, tying them up so that my pulsing kitty was
pulled forwards and into view.
“Goodness!” I exclaimed. “Are we really doing
this?”
“Yes, baby. This is the best way for us to have
deep penetration,” he growled. “You’ll see.”
Pretty soon, I was tied up in a ball of sorts
except that my sweetest spots were exposed and
totally at his pleasure. To my shame, my kitty
juiced and pulsed with anticipation, the scent of
female honey wafting through the air.
“That’s my pretty girl,” Patrick growled, staring
at my sopping slit with satisfaction before running a
finger through my folds. I almost howled with the
sensation because it felt so amazing. He grunted
and chuckled, ready to do it again.
But I became a wanton woman. I began to beg
him for it.
“Please,” I panted. “I want it so bad. I need it.
Give it to me.”
He chuckled again, revealing that massive iron
rod, and then he pulled me back on the swing
before letting it sway forward, and spearing me
with the huge stick in one swift motion.
“Unnnnh!” I screamed as electricity wracked
my frame. I was stuck on the huge candy cane,
unable to move, and my body pulsed with desire.
“Shhh,” he hushed. “It’s going to be fine.”
With the next sway of the swing, I was pulled
off his rod before being slammed onto it again, the
heat piercing deep inside.
“Ohhhhh!” I wailed. “Oh my god!”
And on and on it went, until we were both dizzy
with pleasure, enjoying one another’s bodies
intimately. I almost passed out, my eyes rolling into
the back of my head as my body soared to ecstatic
heights of pleasure.
It’s been like this again and again too. Patrick
knows so many ways to please me, and I love being
with him, whether doing something cuddly and fun
like watching TV together, or practicing all the
different positions of the Kama Sutra.
But now, Patrick has promised to take me to the
Festival of Lights and I’m really excited because
it’s a wonderful sight to see. There’s a street in our
town where all the houses go crazy before
Christmas with holiday decorations. The neighbors
don’t just string a couple windows with lights.
Instead, they go all out, meaning that entire houses
are wrapped in blinking Christmas lights, with Santa
on the roof in his sleigh and mechanical reindeer
pawing at the air with their hooves. I feel a little
bad because their electricity bills must be
horrendous during the months of November and
December. Plus, I heard that the neighborhood is
really strict about participation. When a potential
new person is about to move in, they ask that the
new neighbor sign a contract promising to do up
their house in thousands of watts of Christmas
decorations.
But I like it. Even though I’ve lived in this town
my whole life, I like to go every year to see, and it
always makes me feel excited and happy for
Christmas. Happiness floods my frame, and I fluff
my curls in the mirror, smiling widely. I look happy,
sated, and like a woman in love.
There’s a ding-dong on my parents’ door, and I
skip down the stairs while pulling on my ski jacket,
hat and mittens.
“Hi,” I say, flinging the door open before
stepping outside. “It’s cold isn’t it?”
Patrick looks so handsome. He’s wearing a
navy puffer jacket that highlights the blue of his
eyes, and jeans that sit just so on his hips. The tail
of a plaid shirt peeks out from beneath the hem of
his jacket and I giggle.
“Are you going for the lumberjack look?” I ask.
“Or how about a mountain man?”
He chuckles, slinging an arm around my
shoulder as we head to his car.
“Lumberjack, definitely,” he growls. “How’d
you like to see my big ax, pretty girl?”
I giggle as he opens the car door for me, and
slip in. When he’s set on his side of the car, I turn
to him.
“I’d love to see your axe, Mr. Lumberjack.
Care to show it to me?” I coo with sparkles in my
eyes.
And to my delight, despite the fact that we’re
parked in front of my parents’ house, Patrick unzips
his fly with a sly grin and pulls it out. Of course, my
mouth goes dry because he’s absolutely huge, even
in the cold. That enormous ten incher is thick
around the base and as I watch, it straightens in his
lap, begging to be licked.
“Oh I want it,” I breathe, already leaning
forward and ducking my head. But Patrick is quick.
He slips it back in and zips up within seconds,
shooting me a knowing look.
“I know my little girl likes Daddy’s candy cane,
but you’re not getting it right now. We can’t do it in
front of your parents’ house because that would be
asking for it. Plus, have you been a good girl for
Santa this year? I hope so because we’re going to
see St. Nick now.”
With that, he revs the car and we’re off to the
neighborhood where the Festival of Lights takes
place. I’m disappointed but happy too because I
know Patrick will share his huge tool with me later
tonight. With another smile, I seize my lovers’ hand
as we drive, and he turns to smile at me in turn. My
heart flowers and bursts open because never have I
been so elated. I’m with the man I love, and this
date is going to be wonderful.
M
9
PATRICK
aisie is so innocent that I have to be
careful because I don’t want to get her
in trouble. She’s sweet and true, and
while I love that about her, there’s also an air of
girlish naivete to her. For example, I thought she
was going to go down on me right there while we
were parked in front of her parents’ home. Sure, it
was already 8 p.m., but it wasn’t dark yet. As a
result, anyone could have seen us, potentially
creating a sticky situation
Plus, I don’t think that Maisie realizes this, but
most parents don’t want their daughters to marry a
personal trainer. It’s for good reason because we
don’t
have
stable
jobs.
We’re
essentially
freelancers, working on an “as needed” basis most
of the time. As a result, our income is uncertain,
and most of my compatriots aren’t saving for
retirement or putting money aside for their kids’
college expenses. We’re lucky just to be living
paycheck to paycheck most of the time.
But my situation is a little different because I
own Mr. P’s CrossFit. As a small business owner,
I’m able to purchase regular health insurance, and I
also have a recurring stream of revenue from the
gym memberships I sell, and from the trainers who
pay me a percentage of their fees to see clients at
my gym. Not only that, but the entrepreneurial bug
has gotten me and I’m looking into starting my own
health supplements brand. Why not? Nutrition is
very much a part of my work, and supplements are
a way to make sure you’re getting the right
vitamins, minerals, and other compounds needed in
order to lead a healthy life.
But for now, from the outside it probably looks
like I’m a small business owner hanging by a thread
economically. I still see clients one-on-one, so
people don’t realize that I’ve moved onto becoming
a business mogul. Women that I’ve dated don’t
mind, but their parents are generally wary, and I
can understand why. Moms and dads want their
daughters to marry well, and a guy who’s in the
process of building a business doesn’t have a lot of
spare cash around.
But that’s one of the things that I adore about
Maisie. She doesn’t care about money, which is
obvious because she works as a vet tech, which
pays a pittance. On top of that, my woman is saving
money to donate to the ASPCA because she loves
animals and cares about their welfare. Plus, she’s
okay with doing cheap things like seeing the
Festival of Lights, which is essentially free. There
are no fancy dinners or Broadway shows in our
simple life together; there’s only love, happiness,
and mutual adoration.
Which is why when I pull up to the corners of
Tremont and Edgeworth, I have a special smile for
her.
“Ready?” I ask.
Maisie is staring out the car window, her mouth
agape in awe of the flashing lights up and down
Tremont.
“I am,” she murmurs. “Holy cow, this is even
better than last year.”
I smile and get out to help her out of the car.
She grabs my hand before stepping onto the
slippery sidewalk, and I let my gaze graze her figure
with appreciation. She’s put on weight since we
began our personal training sessions, and it looks
amazing. She’s full-figured and sassy, and her tight
jeans hug those wide hips. Her generous breasts are
concealed beneath a heavy woolen peacoat, but
that’s okay. I know I’ll see them later tonight.
But then she wobbles on the ice and grabs my
arm.
“Steady there,” I chuckle. “You okay?”
Her face is flushed and the tip of her nose a bit
red.
“Yeah, I guess I’m just a little off balance,
that’s all. Plus, I felt a little sick last night. I hate to
say it, but I think it was Mom’s stew. There was
something about those beef cubes that didn’t agree
with me.”
I chuckle and tuck her hand safely into my
elbow.
“Stick with me, pretty girl, and you’ll be fine.”
She giggles and hugs my arm tightly.
“I know, because you’re my hero, Patrick.”
My heart expands. I love being this woman’s
hero, and I’d ride through a desert to conquer
dragons if that’s what it takes to keep Maisie by my
side. We wander towards the lights and my love
gasps again, her eyes shining with awe.
“Oh my gosh, look at that!” she squeals. One
neighbor has done up their lawn like a Mad
Teacups ride except that the teacups are Christmas-
themed as they rotate around the lawn. Santa’s in
one of the teacups, as well as a reindeer, an elf, a
snowman, and Mrs. Klaus.
“That’s so imaginative!” she cries. “I wonder
where they got the Mad Teacups ride from? Do you
think they bought it from Six Flags or Great
Adventure?”
I shrug as we continue strolling along the
sidewalk.
“I have no idea but a lot of these folks are very
handy, sweetheart. I bet they could build something
like that themselves from wood, metal and nails if
they had to.”
“Are you serious?” asks Maisie. “It seems like
it’d be easier to buy it from a purveyor of
amusement park rides. Does that even exist? Do
Great America and Six Flags order their rides from
a manufacturer?”
I shake my head.
“Beats me. They probably do. After all, you
know the rock and roll memorabilia in various Hard
Rock Cafes? For example, Gwen Stefani’s glittery
jeans that she wears on stage, or Elvis’s guitar pick?
All that stuff is from a catalogue.”
Maisie stops to stare at me, halting in her
tracks.
“No way,” she breathes.
“Yes way,” I say with a quirk of my lips. “There
are companies that specialize in this kind of gear.
They buy concert memorabilia from artists and
production companies and then sell it to restaurants
like the Hard Rock Café, Planet Hollywood, and
whatnot. It’s a real good gig.”
Maisie shakes her head in wonder.
“Who knew?”
I pat her hand.
“I know right? Hey, check this out. This one’s
cool too.”
The next house over has set up a life size
nativity scene in their front yard, except that
everyone is a zombie. Joseph, Mary and the Three
Kings are zombies, with ghoulish grins and skull-
like heads. Only Baby Jesus is spared. He’s a pink-
cheeked cherub in his bassinet, with a donkey
looking over the fence at his peacefully sleeping
face.
“Wait a minute, what’s going on here?” asks
Maisie with confusion. “It’s not Halloween, so why
have they reenacted the nativity scene with
ghosts?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t know sweetheart, but I read an article
about this spread in the paper. A lot of folks aren’t
happy with this presentation because they feel it’s
disrespectful to the Christian religion, even if Jesus
is technically a zombie with the resurrection and
all. People are lobbying for this one to be taken
down.”
Sure enough, as we stride by the nativity scene,
an older lady with a colorful hat accosts us with a
clipboard.
“Sign our petition to get these terrible
decorations destroyed,” she says, practically
thrusting the clipboard at us. “This is no way to
revere the Holy Father’s family! Sacrilege!” she
almost screams.
A shutter at the house twitches behind her, but
there’s no other sign of life. Mary and Joseph
continue grinning their ghoulish smiles and Baby
Jesus rests amiably in his manger. Maisie looks
uncertain and a bit terrified, so I take the lead.
“Thanks, we’ll think about it,” I say. “I believe
they’ll be discussing this nativity scene at the next
City Council meeting, and I’ll be sure to bring it up
then.”
With a nod, we pass by the woman, who’s
turned to accost the next set of spectators.
Meanwhile, Maisie holds tight to my elbow.
“Thanks for handling that,” she says in a
slightly shaken voice. “That woman was a little
scary.”
I pat her hand.
“I know. There are a lot of crazies out there,
even here in our little town.”
My girl nods gratefully, but then turns to me.
“But why are you going to be at the City
Council meeting?” she asks. “What’s going on
that’s so important? Are you really going just to
protest this nativity scene? Should I go?”
I laugh. I’m going because I’ve just gotten in
my first batch of organic supplements, and I’m
applying for a permit to sell them in a new shop in
town. Of course, the supplements will also be sold
from behind the counter at the gym, but I also want
something more serious. I don’t want these
supplements to seem like homemade remedies that
a grandma concocted from a witch’s brew. I want
them to be legit, with a real store, and real
branding, because that’s the only way they’re going
to take off.
As a result, I purchased a small store space
downtown, and we’re setting up shop. I’ve already
hired an employee to work retail, and the
contractor’s there right now getting things ready for
our Grand Opening. But I haven’t told anyone yet,
not even Maisie, because I need a license to
operate first. That’s going to be taken care of at the
next City Council meeting, and I can’t wait to let
her know the news. I’m practically bursting with
excitement but manage to hide my pounding heart.
I want it to be a surprise, and I want to see my girl’s
face lit up with joy as I embark on my new venture.
“I figure there will be some interesting things at
the next City Council meeting,” I say in a vague
tone. “I’ll tell you more about it later, when it’s not
so cold.”
Maisie’s about to say something, but then we
come upon the grandest display of all. There’s a
huge Santa in his sled perched on the roof of a two-
story house, with one arm raised in the air to say
hello. Eight reindeer outlined in sparkling lights
prance before him, and buzzy Christmas music
plays from hidden speakers.
“Oh my gosh, this is so amazing!” squeals
Maisie. “Look, there’s fake snow too!”
Sure enough, the homeowner has hidden
snowblowers among the bushes, and geysers of
white confetti float into the air before swirling
around and settling about our shoulders like the real
thing.
“This is so awesome!” my girl laughs, her face
turned up to enjoy the snow. “I love it.”
I can’t resist the temptation and spin her around
to press a tender kiss to that pink pout.
“I love you, sweetheart, and being here with
you means everything to me,” I say.
She melts before my eyes, leaning into my kiss
as her lashes flutter shut.
“I love you too, Patrick,” she whispers. We
savor this romantic moment, but then Maisie
surprises me by breaking free and scampering off.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask,
dumbfounded. “What’s going on?”
She giggles while waving for me to follow.
“Come on! I just noticed that Santa’s arm
stopped waving, and we need to fix that.”
I squint up into the night sky, and it’s true.
Santa’s mechanical arm, which previously had been
swinging back and forth in hello, has stopped
moving. But it didn’t stop in mid-air. Instead, the
thing swung down so that it’s dangling across his
body at a weird angle, looking like he’s got a
disjointed elbow.
“The elves will be very unhappy if Santa can’t
wave, not to mention the children who aren’t going
to get their gifts this year,” Maisie calls from across
the lawn. “Come on!”
I start jogging towards her, looking around us.
“Yeah, but what are we going to do? Shouldn’t
we just inform the homeowner? They must have
tools or something to take care of this.”
But my curvy girl doesn’t hear. She’s circling
the edge of the house, staring up into the sky. We
move further and further along the side of the
house until we’re right by the back gate. Then, to
my surprise, Maisie pops the latch open and slips
into the backyard.
“Come on,” she beckons. “I see a fire escape
over here.”
I pause. What private home has a fire escape? I
thought people slid down gutters and skidded over
roofs when their houses were on fire. But evidently,
this handsome Federalist mansion has a real fire
escape, although it isn’t much more than a rickety
metal ladder extending from the roof to the garden.
To my dismay, Maisie’s already starting to
climb.
“Wait,” I stammer, rushing over to stand by the
metal ladder. “What’s going on?”
“Come on, slowpoke,” she says merrily. “What
are you waiting for?”
As I watch, mouth agape, the beautiful woman
ascends at least twenty feet in the air, agile as a
chipmunk. She’s sure on her feet, and strong and
flexible too. Silently, I curse my personal training. I
must have taught her that during our mock-boxing
sessions. At the very least, I gave her confidence in
her physical abilities, because as I watch, Maisie
swings off the ladder and hoists herself onto the
roof. She’s now twenty feet in the air above me,
grinning down while gesturing with a mittened
hand.
“Come on, Patrick! Last one up’s a rotten egg.”
I groan silently. Obviously, I’m a rotten egg
because she’s already up there, while I’m still down
here. But I need to follow my gorgeous girl because
where she goes, I go. Grimacing, I tentatively put
my booted foot on the metal ladder, testing its
durability. Shit. Will this thing support my muscled
frame?
But again, where Maisie goes, I must follow,
and with a grimace, I begin climbing to the Heavens
in pursuit of my girl.
10
P
MAISIE
atrick has done so much for me, and I really
appreciate it. He’s made me feel confident
about my body, and my current position on
the roof of this two-story house is testament to that.
Before, I would have been petrified, not only of
losing my balance and injuring myself, but about
breaking the ladder on the way up. Now though, I
feel much more comfortable in my own skin, and
scampered up the metal rungs like a squirrel making
its way up a tree. There were no thoughts about
how I might potentially embarrass myself, or how
the fat girl was going to look doing exercise.
Instead, I made quick work of the ascent, and now
I’m staring at the entire length of Tremont Street,
marveling at the view.
Patrick finally pokes his head up, looking
adorable with his mussed chestnut hair.
“I’m at the top of the world!” I sing, just like
they do in the Titanic. “Watch me fly!”
Patrick rolls his eyes, levering his giant form so
that he stands with me on the roof.
“Please,” he says, “I never thought Leonardo
DiCaprio was cute. Plus, I always thought there
was room for two on that plank Rose was floating
on at the end.”
I giggle.
“Ah ha, so you’re one of the plank
conspirators.”
He nods.
“I am! What if we were stranded in the ocean
together, with only one plank to save us? Would
you cast me to my death, letting me freeze before
floating off into the sea?”
I giggle.
“You know, this is such a morbid conversation,
but I think I’d move over and let you share some
space.”
He grins at me triumphantly.
“Yeah, see? That’s why I love you, Maisie.”
My heart jumps at the words because this is the
second time he’s said “I love you” tonight and it
thrills me to my soul. I’ve never even really dated a
boy seriously before but now a gorgeous hunk of
alpha male is telling me that he loves me. How did I
get so lucky? I throw my arms around his neck,
pressing a big kiss to his lips.
“I love you too,” I declare. “But now we have
to talk.”
Patrick stares at me.
“Sweetheart, we’re on the roof of someone’s
house in the middle of the night. It’s freezing right
now. Can’t we talk some other time?”
I nod.
“I know. But there are also no distractions up
here,
and
that’s
important
because
this
conversation is important. You love me, and I love
you, and we need to talk more about what that
means.”
My boyfriend looks completely befuddled.
“How can it be so complicated though? And
why now, sweetheart? Seriously, it’s freezing. Can’t
we talk about things over dinner or something?”
I shake my head, sitting down so that we’re
hidden behind the Santa.
“Nope, now is good. When we usually talk, we
get distracted by you know what. Pretty soon,
we’re necking and making out, and I can’t even
remember my own name because I’m coming so
hard.”
He thinks for a moment and then nods,
dropping down to sit by me.
“You’re right, honey. I love those lush curves,
and love to defile them even more. I guess if it
takes sitting on top of a roof on a cold winter’s
night to stop me from touching you, then so be it.”
I giggle again.
“You’re right, although I do love being defiled.
Now, where were we? Oh yes. I wanted to talk
about birth control, Patrick.”
My boyfriend grows serious.
“Yes, of course. We’ve been good about it. I’ve
been pulling out every time we’re together.”
I fix him with a hard look.
“You haven’t, Patrick. You don’t pull out a lot
of the time, and even when you do, it’s basically at
the last minute. I swear, a few spurts get in before
you’re out all the way.”
His handsome face takes on a look of
innocence.
“What can I say, honey? You feel so good that
it’s come as a surprise to me too. Before you, I was
always in perfect control. I pulled out in the nick of
time like a machine, but ever since you’ve come
around, it’s been really difficult. You just feel so
amazing, and you’re so ripe and fertile –”
“That’s it, exactly,” I interrupt. “I’m fertile,
Patrick and even more so now because I’ve gotten
healthy. I’m only twenty-five, and I never miss my
period. It comes like clockwork which means that
my body is working just fine. If even a drop of you
gets in me at the right time in my cycle, you know
what’s going to happen.”
He grows serious.
“You’ll be pregnant.”
I nod.
“Yes, and we’re not ready to be parents,
Patrick. Heck, we only just said “I love you” to one
another tonight. So how can we entertain the
thought of a child?”
I expect Patrick to agree wholeheartedly, but he
merely shrugs and shoots me a cocky grin.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound so bad to have
a baby together, does it?”
My heart does about three cartwheels in a row
as my stomach drops to my feet.
“What?” I stammer.
He shrugs again, a devilish look on that
handsome face. His outline is dark in the night sky,
but it’s huge and pulses heat even through the cold
air.
“It doesn’t seem so bad to have a baby
together,” he repeats in a deceptively casual tone.
“I’m thirty to your twenty-five, honey, and I’m
ready to be a daddy, if that’s what’s in store for
me.”
I can hardly breathe as my heart pitter-patters
at a rapid pace.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?” he shrugs. “I’d love to have a baby
with you, Maisie. You’d be a wonderful mommy.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs.
“But how?” I ask plaintively. “I mean, of
course the biology is pretty easy. But we’re just so
… I don’t know. Unprepared?”
He grins again while taking my trembling hand
in his own.
“Speak for yourself, sweetheart. I’m prepared.
If anything, I’d love to see you grow even rounder
with my child, and you know what? I’ve always
wanted to have a brood of rugrats. What do you
say to three or four children? Or even five?”
I’m completely taken aback even as my heart
leaps with joy and wonder. After all, I’d love to
have a child with this handsome, commanding man.
He’s already done wonders for my self-esteem and
body-image, and I know he’d be a great father too.
I squeeze Patrick’s hand tentatively with my own.
“But are you sure?” I ask in a whisper. “You
know, once we have a baby, we can’t go back. We
can’t return him to the stork.”
“I’m sure,” he says in a serious tone. “But I
understand if you don’t want to have one right this
minute, and I understand if you’re afraid that the
pulling out method isn’t working too. Why don’t I
make you a deal?”
“What is it?” I ask, barely able to breathe. So
many things have happened tonight and I can
hardly process it all. He’s said “I love you” twice,
and now he’s telling me that he wants babies with
me! Who would have guessed?
Patrick merely grins, reading my mind.
“Trust me, stranger things have happened,
Maisie. You’re a very attractive, eligible young
woman, so what man wouldn’t want you? But back
to my deal,” he continues. “I don’t love using birth
control because condoms feel disgusting, and I
know the thought of dousing yourself with
chemicals turns you off.”
I nod.
“But what else is there?”
He stares at me in the darkness, that handsome
profile arresting and completely still. I can’t read
his eyes, but the tension in his frame is palpable.
“We can do things the back way,” he says.
“Give me your bottom cherry, sweetheart, and you
won’t get pregnant that way.”
“What?” I gasp. “Oh my god! Only bad girls do
that!”
He nods, pulling me close so that I’m basically
in his lap now. One big hand coasts up beneath my
coat to cup a large breast, and that low voice
growls directly in my ear.
“Yes, but you’re my bad girl, aren’t you?
You’re my bad, bad, bad girl, and Santa’s going to
take your ass cherry for Christmas because of your
naughty deeds.”
Suddenly, heat washes over me in waves and
my bottom ring clenches in anticipation. Yes, I want
this, and with a deep kiss, Patrick sweeps me into
his strong arms as we begin our exploration
together.
11
I
PATRICK
can’t believe I’m doing this. I promised myself
that I’d go easy with Maisie because she’s a
sweet, innocent thing that doesn’t deserve to
lose her ass cherry on the roof of some random
stranger’s house during a cold winter night. Yet,
suddenly, I can’t wait any longer. I need in, and I’m
going to take her.
Fortunately, I’ve already scoped out the terrain,
and I stride a few steps with Maisie’s lovely weight
in my arms before clambering into Santa’s sleigh.
It’s a huge thing. The homeowners spared no
expense, and Santa and his transportation this year
are actually larger than life size. The sleigh has the
dimensions of a generous life raft, and even with St.
Nick sitting on the bench, there’s still plenty of
room on the floor of the sleigh for a passionate
coupling.
“Oh my god,” whispers Maisie, breaking away
from our kiss for a moment. “Are we really going to
–?” is her unspoken question.
“Yes, we are,” I growl, lowering her to the
ground before stopping to whip off my jacket to
place beneath her. “Daddy needs your bottom
cherry, baby girl, and he can’t wait anymore. It’s
mine.”
She mewls a bit and looks around. Fortunately,
the walls of the sleigh are pretty high, so the people
looking up from below can’t see us. We’re basically
alone in our aerie, and it’s quite cozy too. Again,
the sides of the sleigh are quite high. They block
the wind, and as a result, we have our own little
nest to make love in.
“I know this isn’t what you envisioned,” I
growl. “But I need you now, honey. I need that
juicy bottom milking my shaft asap, and I can’t
wait.”
Maisie’s cheeks are flushed but she gets it
immediately and strips out of her clothes in a flash.
Oh my god, it’s really happening. I’m going to
claim this beautiful girl’s steamy brownie right here,
outdoors in December.
“I’ll make it quick,” I rasp. “Bend over.”
“What?” she squeals.
“Daddy has to get your ass ready first,” I growl.
“I’m going to work you open so that when my shaft
comes, you’re ready.”
Maisie trembles a bit, breasts bobbling, but then
she leans over, bracing her weight on her elbows.
Her bottom rises in the air and I twitch a bit at the
sight. Her white mounds are luscious and ripe,
bisected in the middle by a deep crack.
“Spread your cheeks,” I growl. “Take one in
each hand and pull yourself open for me.”
“What?” she squeals again, turning to look at
me with shocked eyes. But before I can repeat the
command, her small hands reach backwards and
grip a cheek in each palm before pulling them open
and revealing that tight, coffee-colored hole. Oh
shit. Here it is.
Like a desperate man, I lean forward and begin
to press kisses to her rim.
“Sweetheart, you taste so good,” I moan
deliriously. “So sweet.”
She moans as well, her eyes drifting shut.
“But how is that even possible?” she asks. “It’s
dirty back there!”
“It’s not dirty,” I rasp before easing my tongue
into her dark channel. She squeals, jolting a bit, as I
sample the muskiness of her back end. “If I want
you to come with my tongue here, then you’re
going to come, hear?”
But Maisie’s too far gone now. What we’re
doing is too filthy for the innocent girl to fathom,
and with a jerk and a high shriek, she explodes on
my face. Her chamber spasms around my tongue as
her pussy pulses and drips, the fluid begging to be
licked.
However, I keep my tongue firmly planted in
her backside because she needs to get used to the
sensation of a man in here. When she’s done with
her mewling and crying, I pull out, savoring the
nasty sight. Her brownie blinks at me, relaxed and
as loose as it’s going to get right now.
“Do you like this?” I growl, lining up behind her
before pressing my enormous head against that tiny
hole. “Is this what dirty girls crave?”
“Oh, it is,” she moans, her lashes fluttering shut
once more. “Give it to me, Daddy St. Nick.”
With that, I slide deep inside of her bottom
hole, and to my surprise, Maisie takes it all with a
long, drawn out ooohhh!
“You’re a butt slut, you know?” I rasp, once my
full length is embedded in her tight peach. “Taking
Daddy’s length all in one go like that. Only bad girls
are able to do that.”
She moans again and wriggles a bit, making me
jerk.
“I know, Daddy, and I’m your naughty girl.
Now come in me, like you said you would.”
With that, I begin deep, satisfying pounds in
and out of that tiny bottom. She wriggles and mewls
a bit, but then holds still, enjoying the thorough
drill. Her fingers curl with ecstasy, even as those
huge breasts sway.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm, oh YES! So GOOD!” she
screams into the night sky. My woman’s ecstasy
propels me into the stratosphere as well, and with a
roar, I explode into her chamber, dousing her with
male jism. Maisie clenches and clamps, pulling my
seed deep into that sweet, fertile body, even if this
time, it’s not going into the right hole.
But that’s what my love doesn’t realize. I want
to get Maisie pregnant. Seeing my woman grow
heavy with my baby is absolutely on the agenda,
and the sweet girl just doesn’t know it yet.
12
I
MAISIE
open the door to the school auditorium with a
cheerful smile.
“Hi Mrs. James,” I say to the elderly lady
on my right. “I didn’t know you were coming
tonight.”
Mrs. James bobs her purple-tinted hair and
limps in with her cane.
“Thank you, dearie. Yes, I always come to City
Council meetings because a lot of important things
happen each month! Is this your first?”
“It is,” I confirm with a smile. “But I’m really
looking forward to it because I’m interested in the
development of our town, and this is the place
where things happen.”
Of course, I don’t tell Mrs. James that the real
reason I’m here is because my boyfriend’s
application for a business permit will be heard by
the Council tonight. I’m extraordinarily excited and
here to support Patrick in his commercial venture.
When he first told me about his supplements line, I
was amazed and in awe.
“I didn’t even know this was in the works,” I
said, stammering a bit. “What an incredible idea.”
He grinned, gripping my hand tightly.
“I know, but a lot of fitness entrepreneurs have
had the same thought. We all want to get into
supplements because that’s where the real money
is. Think about it, baby. I’m only one man, so I
have limited time to see clients for personal
training. But the supplements won’t be like that.
Potentially, we’ll be able to sell an unlimited
amount, both through my shop, my on-line store,
here at the gym, and also on various platforms. I’ve
already applied for a vendor account on Amazon,
and I just got approved.”
“That’s amazing,” I breathe, my eyes wide.
“But what sets your supplements apart from
others? The field must be so crowded.”
Patrick nods seriously.
“Good question. I put a lot of thought into this,
and it’s the fact that every single part of my
supplements is natural and organic. Did you know
that the shells encasing vitamins are often made of
artificial ingredients? Sometimes there’s even
plastic in there. It’s soluble plastic, but it’s still a
man-made material. But my supplements are
different. They’re Mr. P approved, and they’ll do
your body and the Earth good.”
I clapped my hands with enthusiasm.
“Okay, sign me up. I’m your first customer.”
Patrick threw his head back and laughed,
squeezing my thigh with approval.
“Sweetheart, I’m not going to make you buy
my stuff because for you, it’s all free. In fact,
you’re an example of what dedication and hard
work look like, Maisie. You’re fit, fabulous and
absolutely glowing with health. Heck, you could be
a model for my supplements line.”
I flushed because my boyfriend was just kidding
around. I’m nowhere near model-shape. In fact,
I’m pretty much the opposite. Although Patrick
doesn’t realize it yet, I’m actually pregnant, which
is part of the reason why I’m glowing. My cheeks
are round and pink, and my belly is already bulging
just the tiniest bit from our child.
But no one knows because I’ve always been a
big girl, and so my curves are expected. Personal
training hasn’t caused me to lose any weight at all,
but I’m not disappointed because Patrick has
helped me change my mindset so that I’m more
focused on being strong and healthy, as opposed to
being
slim.
He’s
such
a
groundbreaking
entrepreneur, and so supportive too. I can’t wait to
tell him the news that he’s going to be a daddy
soon.
But my parents are another story. Lorraine and
Henry should be over the moon because for the
first time in my life, I have a boyfriend. This is why
they got me the personal training sessions in the
first place: so that I could slim down and attract a
man. But when I told them I was dating Patrick,
they were curiously unenthusiastic. In fact, I almost
thought they didn’t hear me at first.
“Mom, Dad, I have a boyfriend. A real
boyfriend, and it’s my personal trainer from the
gym. Remember him? Patrick.”
My dad squinted at me while shaking out his
paper.
“You mean from Mr. P’s CrossFit? That guy?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, Patrick is Mr. P, get it? P is for Patrick.”
My dad smiled vaguely.
“Oh right. How are those personal training
sessions working out for you?”
“Fabulous!” I enthused while doing a twirl.
“Patrick has whipped me into great shape, and
even better, we’ll be moving in together soon. Isn’t
that what you wanted?”
Before Henry could speak, Lorraine butted in.
“But honey, isn’t this happening really fast?
You did just meet him, after all.”
I stare at her.
“Mom, the reason you bought me personal
training sessions is so that I could meet a guy. And
now I have! Sure, I know you didn’t expect my
new guy to be the personal trainer himself, but why
does that matter? I’m going to move out, and get
out of your hair. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Lorraine hemmed and hawed while looking
down at her hands. Finally, she let out a huge sigh
and met my eye.
“It’s just happening so quickly, Maisie, and we
want what’s best for you,” she said as my dad
nodded in agreement. I was completely floored.
Why weren’t they raising the rafters with cheers? I
thought that me moving out was their ultimate goal
so that I could go on to have a “meaningful life”
following “a woman’s natural path.” Their goals for
me had actually come true, so why weren’t they
more enthusiastic?
But I couldn’t get Lorraine and Henry to do
anything but nod distantly, even as I began to pack
up my childhood bedroom. Who knows? My
parents have always been strange people, and this
was just the latest twist in their idiosyncratic
behavior.
Patrick assured me not to think twice about it
“Trust me, baby girl, it’s about money and
nothing more.”
I squint at him.
“What? They’re not paying you money to date
me, are they?”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“No of course not. Your parents are just
protective of their daughter, that’s all. They want
what’s best for you, and that means marrying their
daughter off to a man who will take care of her
financially.”
I shake my head.
“Yes, but isn’t that so old-fashioned? We’re not
living in eighteenth century England where women
don’t have jobs anymore. In fact, I’m going on my
fifth year as a vet tech now.”
My lover grinned.
“Of course your parents’ thinking is outmoded,
but it’s just a reflex. Plus, it doesn’t help that they
likely believe that I’m a pauper literally selling my
body and know-how in order to make money. I did
pose as a fitness model for Men’s Muscle last year,
remember.”
I shivered hotly, seeing the spread in my mind’s
eye.
“Yes, but you looked amazing in the magazine,
Patrick. You look incredibly yummy now, and
what’s wrong with being a male model? You’re
studly and muscly, and I love it so much.”
Patrick arched his eyebrow at me, grinning.
“Can’t get enough of my candy cane, can you,
Maisie?”
I shake my head enthusiastically.
“Definitely not. Who could resist?” I tease. “So
why don’t my parents appreciate my hunky stud
muffin?”
Patrick makes a funny face.
“Well, I hope they don’t see me as a hunky stud
muffin because that would be gross. But in general,
people don’t want their daughters dating a male
model. It’s just not seen as a “man’s job.””
I nod.
“Another outmoded idea.”
He shrugs.
“Yes, but what can we do? Your folks are the
products of another time and age.”
I smile sassily.
“We could tell them about your new
supplements line, and how you’re going to take
over the world selling them.”
He grins and rubs my back affectionately.
“I appreciate your support Maisie, but I haven’t
told anyone about my new business venture, not
even my parents. So let’s keep it on the downlow,
otherwise there will be too much pressure. I want to
do well, don’t get me wrong, but there are no
guarantees in the business world. It’s competitive
out there, with a lot of sharks looking for prey.”
I nod in agreement, but inside, my heart is
bursting with joy. I’m so proud of this man, and I
support his hopes, dreams, and aspirations. I never
thought I’d be with someone who dreams such big
dreams, and I’m ecstatic that he’s going to be the
father of my child.
Smiling still, I sit down on a hard bench in the
packed school auditorium, looking around. There’s
Mrs. James chatting with the elderly Mrs. Peckham.
There’s Mayor Jones, scribbling something on a
piece of paper at the front. Then the door opens,
and my parents enter. What? I wave, a little
surprised. Why are they here?
But Lorraine and Henry don’t see me, and they
move somberly to a bench at the front, taking their
seats with their backs to me. Hmm, weird. Maybe
they’re planning on renovating the house, and need
to get a permit? I have no idea. I’ve been so caught
up in my own life recently, that I haven’t noticed
much outside of the little bubble that Patrick and I
exist in.
Suddenly, the banging of a gavel sounds and
Mayor Jones takes a seat at the front of the hall.
The City Council members walk to the front of the
auditorium as well, and take their seats along a
long, narrow table fitted with mics.
“Hi everyone,” Mayor Jones greets. “Thanks
for joining us at our monthly City Council meeting.
There are a few things on the agenda tonight, and
we’ll be going through them one by one.”
The crowd nods and I zone out as the Council
discusses various zoning changes, the flow of traffic
near the Tremont intersection, and the new
children’s wing of the library. I smile to myself,
rubbing my belly absentmindedly, as if saying hello
to my baby. He or she will be born in my
hometown, and I can’t wait to meet him or her.
But then the gavel strikes with a bang, and I
jerk a bit.
“The next item on the agenda is a business
permit for a new business downtown called Mr. P’s
CrossFit Supplements. Patrick Walker is here to
give us an overview of his plans and to explain how
this business will add value to our downtown.”
My heart bursts with pride as Patrick appears
from a side door and strides to the front of the
room. He’s so handsome in a blue blazer and fitted
trousers, with those arresting azure eyes, chiseled
jaw, and incredible physique. His voice is low and
deep as he begins speaking.
“Mr. Mayor, City Council, thank you for having
me. As you know, I’m already the proprietor of Mr.
P’s CrossFit gym on the east side of town, and
we’re doing quite well. I’m here to apply for a
business permit to open a related business which
will sell vitamins and supplements, also branded
with the Mr. P name. My new shop will add value
to our town because—”
But then, to everyone’s shock, my dad gets up
and states in a flat tone, “I oppose this business.”
Mayor Jones is flustered.
“I’m sorry, Henry, but there’s a time for
questions, and that time isn’t now. If you’d save
your comments for the fifteen minutes at the end –”
But my dad won’t have it.
“No. This man doesn’t deserve a business
license. In fact, he deserves to have his current
license taken away, and to be run out of this town
because he’s violated my sweet daughter, Maisie.”
A gasp arises as shocked townspeople swivel
around to look at me. I gasp, my face draining of all
color. What’s going on? My parents have never
“liked” Patrick, that’s true, but they never
mentioned hating him either. Nonetheless, my dad
continues in a flat, dead monotone.
“My wife, Lorraine, and I purchased personal
training sessions for our one and only daughter,
Maisie. We thought it would be a good way to help
her lose weight and feel great. Unfortunately, this
man took advantage of her. He seduced her during
a training session and violated her multiple times
after that.”
Okay, this is getting crazy. Maybe the words my
dad are saying have a little bit of truth in them, but
“violating” is going way beyond the pale. I stand
up, about to defend my boyfriend, but my mom
jumps in then. Lorraine’s face is pale, strained, and
to my horror, tears brim in her eyes.
“I second my husband. This man has engaged
my daughter in amoral behavior that’s absolutely
transgressive,” she says, her voice breaking. “And
we have proof. I beg you to listen before
considering any action on Patrick Walker’s behalf.”
What the hell? What’s going on? Have my
parents gone insane? But at that moment, the
screen at the front of the school auditorium flickers
to life, and to my horror, my face appears on the
flat surface. But it’s not just any candid shot of me.
My expression is delirious with ecstasy and it’s
clear that I’m moaning with pleasure as my lashes
flutter and lips part. Then, a man’s hand extends
onto the screen and begins touching me. You can’t
see his face, but there’s the edge of a broad,
bronzed shoulder and a shock of dark hair, with a
low voice rasping, “Come for me baby. Come for
Daddy, sweetheart.”
Holy shit! It’s video from the time when Patrick
and I made love in Santa’s sleigh while viewing the
holiday lights. Fake white snow falls around us, but
it’s not enough to obliterate the naughty, X-rated
action. Then, to my horror, more of our bodies
come into view, and you can see Patrick pounding
away at me as I mewl and pant, my expression one
of pure need. The only thing blocking our privates
from the viewer’s eyes is Rudolph’s nose.
Evidently, there was a hidden camera somewhere
on the roof, but the fake Rudolph was in the way
and a big red bulb sits in the middle of the screen,
preventing the City Council from seeing my private
parts.
Oh my god! How is this happening? I jump up,
trembling like crazy, and begin to scream.
13
W
PATRICK
here the fuck did Maisie’s parents get
this video? Suddenly, I have a sinking
sensation that Lorraine and Henry
have known about everything from the very
beginning. They probably know that I took
advantage of their daughter during her very first
personal training session; that we’ve been enjoying
each other’s bodies non-stop since then; and
obviously, the fact that I claimed their daughter’s
anal cherry during a holiday spectacular because
it’s right here on camera.
But where the fuck did they get this video?
Within seconds, Lorraine Handle answers my
question. With tears in her eyes, she speaks loud
enough for the entire auditorium to hear.
“Our friends, the Valencias, live on Tremont
Street, which puts on a holiday light show each
year. Many of you have likely seen it. It’s a
wonderful experience, and this year, the Valencias
did their house up with Santa and his sleigh on the
roof. Of course, they installed cameras all over
their property because the decorations are
expensive and quite elaborate. Imagine my shock
and horror when Trudy Valencia called me and
informed me that there was tape of my daughter
having sex on the roof of their home by the very
man I hired as her personal trainer!”
I gape. The video has thankfully come to a
pause, although you can still see Maisie’s mouth
open in an ecstatic scream as I grip her hips from
behind. Fortunately, Rudolph’s red nose blocks
exactly where our bodies meet, so at least you can’t
tell that I’m giving it to her in her backdoor. At
least, I hope not.
But Lorraine continues.
“We trusted him!” she cries in an agitated
voice. “How could you, Mr. P? We entrusted our
precious, darling daughter to you and then … this
happens!”
I’m about to speak but there’s no need because
Maisie leaps to her feet and begins defending me.
“It’s not like that!” she exclaims quickly while
turning to the audience. “Everything is being
mischaracterized. Let me start by saying I’m no
young, innocent naïf. I’m a twenty-five woman and
I have a full-time job. I work at a vet’s office
downtown, and pay my taxes like an adult.”
The word “taxes” seems to shake the audience
out of its trance. At that moment, the screen
flickers off as well, giving me relief. No one needs
to see our naked bodies frozen on screen like that.
But my girlfriend continues, talking a mile a
minute.
“My parents are right. I met Patrick at his gym
as a result of the personal training sessions they
bought for me, but why is that wrong? I wasn’t
taken advantage of. I wanted it. Plus, I willingly
went on several dates with him, as any young single
woman has the right to do. Yes, I still live at home,
but I’d ask you to ignore the comments of Lorraine
and Henry. I love my parents, but they’re
misguided, and nothing untoward happened
between Patrick and I. In fact, I’m pregnant with
his child and proud to be carrying his baby.”
That causes another gasp of surprise to run
through the crowd. In fact, I can hardly breathe
myself as the air escapes from my lungs. Is it true?
Maisie turns toward me with tears in her eyes.
“I’m having your baby,” she says in a voice that
carries. “You are my man, Patrick Walker, and I
couldn’t be more proud to be with you. You
deserve to get this business permit, and I know that
both your supplements store and your gym will
thrive. You are the man for me, Patrick, and I am
your woman.”
Heart thumping, I can barely breathe for a
moment. But then I literally leap over several rows
of chairs like Superman before dashing to my girl
and pulling her into my arms.
“I love you,” I growl fiercely into Maisie’s ear.
“Fuck this permit. Fuck this town. As long as I
have you and the baby, that’s enough for me.”
The rest of the world seems to dissolve into a
blur of nothingness as my beautiful girl smiles up at
me with tears in her eyes.
“Do you mean it, Patrick?” she asks. “You’re
not angry that I’m pregnant?”
I shake my head.
“How can you even think that, sweetheart? I’m
lucky to have you, and we’re blessed to be
expecting. You’re the best holiday gift that I could
ever have, and I thank my lucky stars that your
parents brought you into my life.”
She sniffles a little.
“Are you mad at Lorraine and Henry?”
I think for a moment.
“This is a conversation for another time
because people are watching, baby girl,” I say,
jerking my head over my shoulder, indicating the
audience. “But no, I don’t think I am. They’re
misguided but they just want the best for you,
sweetheart. They don’t realize that I treasure you
and our child above all else, and that no matter
what happens, I will always put your needs first.
Will you marry me, Maisie? Because these are the
words that have been circling in my head for a
while now. I love you, and the baby brings
everything together. Please say yes, honey, and
make this the best Christmas ever.”
Tears really begin to fall from my girl’s
beautiful brown eyes then, but they’re tears of joys.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” she whispers,
pulling me close for a kiss. And at that moment, my
life becomes complete. I have Maisie, we’re
expecting a baby, and what else could a man ask
for? My business can wait because Santa’s given
me a wondrous gift, and I intend to cherish our
relationship until the end of my days.
A
EPILOGUE
MAISIE
month later.
I’m visibly pregnant now, and Patrick
adores my baby bump. My husband rubs
my belly with delight, running his huge palm over
the gentle swell.
“Do that too much and the baby will want a
massage after he’s born,” I joke while lying on my
back. “He’s getting so used to your through-the-
belly massages.”
Patrick merely growls.
“It’s okay. This is a way for babies to get to
know their father. Have you talked to the Valencias,
by the way?”
I swallow, carefully thinking about how to
answer.
“Yes. Well, sort of. Okay, no. I talked with our
attorney again, and he said they’re still in
negotiations with the Valencias about getting the
videotapes into our possession. Evidently, there was
more than one camera fixed on that stupid Santa
sleigh, so there I guess there’s an entire archive of
our activities that night.”
Patrick shakes his head with disbelief.
“Who would have guessed? Why are they so
paranoid?”
I shrug.
“It’s like my parents said. I guess the Christmas
decorations cost a fortune, and they wanted to keep
an eye on them. Allegedly, the Valencias spent
thirty thousand on that diorama, so I guess it makes
sense that they want to keep tabs on their
investment.”
Patrick snorts again.
“Who knew they were friends of your parents
too?”
I nod.
“I know. I guess they met during a Tony
Robbins motivational conference, and were
delighted to find out that they lived in the same
town.”
My husband shakes his head again.
“But how did they recognize that it was you? I
mean, you didn’t go to that conference too, did
you?”
I shrug with exasperation.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t be caught dead at
one of those things. Evidently, the Valencias’ dog
came in to see the vet a couple times, and they
spoke with me. To be honest, Patrick, I remember
their dog just fine. Marshall is a beautiful
Dalmation with distinctive markings. But you know
how I am with dog owners; I can’t recognize
another human for the life of me.”
My husband merely chuckles and rubs my belly
again.
“The Valencias are weird.”
“You can say that again. Hey, if you keep
rubbing my belly like that, I’m going to think
you’re doing it for good luck just like with the
Buddha statues!” I exclaim. The dark man growls
deep inside his chest.
“I am doing it for good luck, baby girl. You and
the baby are my good luck charms.”
I giggle but then get serious.
“But anyways, yes, I think we’re going to be
able to get the tapes, no thanks to my parents.
Lorraine and Henry are insane, and I’ve just about
given up on them.”
That’s one of the saddest developments in my
life thus far. Despite the fact that I leapt to my
husband’s defense in front of a packed auditorium,
my parents haven’t come around. They continue to
think that Patrick is an older man who
inappropriately seduced a young virgin despite the
fact that I’m a fully-actualized twenty-five-year-old
woman.
As a result, we haven’t spoken with them in the
month that’s passed since that fateful City Council
meeting, although there have been signs of a break
in the ice recently. My mom asked my aunt to ask
me for a picture from my latest ultrasound, which I
suppose is a roundabout way to establish a
connection again.
But I haven’t forgotten what Lorraine and
Henry did because their actions were ridiculous.
And taking things to a public stage like that in the
hopes of tanking my husband’s business is going
beyond the pale. As a result, it’s going to require
more than sharing a few ultrasounds to re-establish
the trust between us. Lorraine and Henry are on my
naughty list this year, and maybe after the baby’s
born, I’ll relent and let them see their grandchild.
For now, though, I haven’t gotten over the hurt.
Regardless, my parents’ efforts to bring down
Patrick’s business did not succeed. In fact, the
notoriety surrounding that City Council meeting
spread, and pretty soon, there was a huge increase
in foot traffic at the gym. Patrick had to extend Mr.
P’s open hours and hire a few more trainers just to
handle the additional interest.
Not to mention that he hasn’t given up on the
supplements business. In fact, the opposite. Maybe
he hasn’t gotten his permit yet, but we’re selling the
supplements on-line already, for which no permit is
needed, and the goods are flying off the shelves like
hotcakes.
Who knew? Maybe it’s the image of my
handsome husband gazing from the label that does
it. After all, Patrick is gorgeous, fit, and absolutely
breathtaking. Men definitely want to look like him,
so they’re buying his products in an attempt to
replicate his success, and I consider myself lucky to
be his wife. We had a quickie ceremony in Vegas,
which was fast but romantic, and just right in every
way. My diamond glints from my finger and with a
teasing smile, I slip it off and hand the item of
jewelry to my husband.
“Give it to me,” I breathe. “Along with your
candy cane.”
Patrick grins because he knows what I want.
“Flip over and spread,” is that low command.
“Let me see your sweetness.”
With a moan of anticipation, I do as told while
hitching my skirt over my bottom. My panties are
drenched already and with one quick snap of his
wrist, Patrick pulls them off.
“Oh!” I squeal.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patrick rumbles, his
eyes fierce with love. “Daddy knows what you
want.”
With that, he eases his giant candy cane into my
sopping slit and I cry out with pleasure. This is what
I need: ten inches of thickness penetrating my small
hole, and I cry out again, my eyes drifting shut. But
then Patrick strokes over my crack, teasing my
brown hole open with his fingers before worming a
digit deep inside.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
I moan and mewl, trying to inhale in
preparation for what’s going to happen next.
“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”
Patrick lets out a rough chuckle and slips his
finger out before inserting the diamond into my
back chamber. The stone has hard edges and I
shriek with pleasure as the facets massage the walls
of my bottom cavern.
“Ooooh!” I wail. “Yes, yes, yes! So GOOD!”
With that, the double penetration does its work
and I burst into flames while sailing over the moon.
My two holes contract and convulse, pulling
Daddy’s candy cane deeper as he explodes with
male need.
“FUCK!” is his conquering roar. “Oh shit!”
I clamp down on him, pulling both the candy
and the diamond deeper, along with his seed.
There’s so much that the male batter spills out
between us, dripping down my thighs and coursing
over his balls. But this is what I want and crave:
Patrick in me, with our lives and bodies now joined
as one.
The End
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Next up: A Sneak Peek of Daddy’s Christmas
Gift. My professor has a special gift in store for
me this year, but I have to unwrap his package
to find out what it is.
SNEAK PEEK: DADDY’S CHRISTMAS
GIFT
ARIA
Will Aria’s handsome, hunky professor be able
to keep his hands off the curvy girl? It’s a
forbidden professor-student romance filled with
pleasure.
I knock hesitantly on the wooden door again.
There’s a frosted pane of glass in the middle of the
door, but the shade on the other side is drawn,
rendering it dark.
“Professor Moore?” I call. “It’s office hours,
isn’t it? It’s Aria Nelson.”
Suddenly, the door opens so quickly that I step
back with surprise. Or maybe it’s the fact that
Professor Moore is absolutely huge, close-up and in
person. After all, I’ve always watched him from a
distance as a figure at the front of the classroom.
But now that the man is before me, a mere three
feet away, the air zooms from my lungs as I tilt my
head up to gaze into those navy blue eyes.
Because Roland must be six three at least. He
towers over me, his large bulk looming over my
small one. He seems to blot out the light within, and
his shoulders are so wide that they appear to reach
from one side of the doorframe to the other. But
then he steps aside to let me in, and grins, flashing
bright white teeth.
“Hi Aria,” he says mildly. “Just in time. It’s two
on the dot, and I was just about to open my door.”
I step in hesitantly and look around. His office
is tiny, but it’s to be expected. This building hasn’t
been upgraded in years, and the dilapidation shows.
There’s one tiny window up high behind his desk,
but all it reveals are the green leaves of a massive
bush. A metal desk is positioned in front of the
window, and there’s a chair in front of the desk for
visitors as well as a cheery red rug on the floor. But
what takes my breath away are the shelves and
shelves of books lining the walls because Roland
Moore obviously reads a lot. Even though this is a
small space, he’s outfitted his office such that all
four walls have floor to ceiling shelving crammed
full of all sorts of novels.
“Wow,” I breathe, stepping inside. “Are these
all yours?”
He chuckles while shutting the door behind me.
“Most,” he acknowledges. “Fiction and non-
fiction both. Sometimes I read some non-fiction,
but it’s strictly for pleasure. For work, it’s all
fiction.”
I laugh, seating myself in the chair before his
desk.
“That’s funny because for most people it’s the
opposite. Professional reading is usually boring
non-fiction, while people read novels for fun in
their spare time.”
Roland quirks a grin at me and takes a seat
behind his desk. The light in the office is bright, but
it’s warm at the same time and casts his skin in
shades of bronze. My mouth goes dry when I see
the slight vee of chest revealed at the collar of his
shirt, and the strong neck rising up above it. Oh my
gosh, am I actually going daffy at the sight of a
man’s neck? Am I that desperate?
The truth is, yes. Because while Elisa drags me
to a lot of parties, I don’t exactly date. Sure, there
are boys hovering around at the edges of my life,
and I even went with George Littles to that
fraternity dance last year. But nothing happened
because George was too awkward. He kept trying
to carry a conversation, but puberty came late for
him and his voice would crack embarrassingly in
the middle of every other sentence. By the end of
the night, I think he was happy to see me go, if only
so that he could go back to his room and let his
vocal cords relax.
So the truth is that I don’t really date here at the
University of Rhode Island. Not that I want to. The
boys that Elisa brings home when she thinks I’m
sleeping are gross. They moan and bump around in
her tiny twin bed across the room, and most times, I
pretend I’m asleep. There’s nothing sexy about
teenage boys amped up high on testosterone, I tell
you. The longest they can last is about three
minutes, and that’s being generous.
But Professor Moore is the real thing. This is no
adolescent boy who’s growing into his features.
This is a true alpha male, with a piercing blue gaze,
and a sense of knowingness about him. I can
already tell that Roland knows his way around
women from the commanding yet relaxed way he
sits in his chair. Even the idle thrum of his fingertips
on the metal desktop reminds me that I’m here to
see him, and that he’s the one in charge.
But Roland cracks another grin, even as the
blue of his eyes turns a deep navy.
“So Aria,” he begins casually. “What can I help
you with?”
I stammer a bit, flushing.
“Um, I thought you wanted to talk about The
Green Ribbon?” I ask hesitantly. “You know, the
first short story in Her Body.”
Nodding, Roland gazes away for a moment
while steepling his fingers.
“Yes,
that’s
right,”
he
says,
nodding
thoughtfully. “I liked your comment in class, and
wanted to probe further. Why did you say that the
author portrays the female protagonist as a wanton
woman? What made you think that?”
I gasp.
“I didn’t say she was wanton,” is my quick
reply. “In fact, I don’t think she’s a slut at all. She
was married to the man who pulled the green
ribbon.”
Roland quirks an eyebrow at me.
“You don’t think a married woman can be a
slut? Does a wedding certificate mean that a
woman can no longer be loose, so to say?”
I flush again, stammering a bit.
“Well, I’m not sure,” are my slow words. “I
suppose so. No, that doesn’t sound right. All I’m
saying is that the female character seems to be very
familiar with her own body, and makes it available
for her husband’s pleasure to do whatever he likes.
Is that going too far?”
Roland’s eyes gleam, and he leans forward a
bit, adjusting his weight.
“I don’t know. Is letting a man do what he
wants with your body going too far? I’m not sure
either.”
I nod, my heart racing at this titillating
conversation.
“I mean, on the one hand, the main character
maintains total control over her actions. She
chooses what to give to her husband, and shares
herself with him unstintingly. But there was just
something so … slutty about what she did, don’t
you think? Do normal women do that?”
Roland leans forward again, a gleam in the
depths of his blue eyes. His shoulders look slightly
tense and very broad as his eyes scan my features.
“I’m not sure,” he says slowly. “Do you
consider yourself to be a normal woman?”
My cheeks color.
“Yes, of course,” I say in a rush. “I mean,
everyone is abnormal in some way. Take my hair,
for example. Most babies are born with blonde hair
and then it darkens as they age, but mine didn’t,” I
say, blabbering at about a thousand miles an hour.
“I’m still as fair as the day I was born, and in fact, I
think my hair’s gotten even more blonde with
time.”
Roland’s eyes gleam again, but his expression
remains placid and neutral.
“Is that right, Aria? Could you take your hair
down to show me? I’m afraid I can’t tell very well
since it’s all twisted up right now.”
I flush. Somehow, this feels very intimate,
although I’m hardly Rapunzel letting down her hair
for a suitor.
“Oh sure,” I say while biting my lip. My heart’s
going a million miles an hour, and somehow, I’m
aroused and hot even though I’m not doing
anything but dismantling my bun. “No problem,
Professor.”
With trembling fingers, I reach up and fumble a
bit before sinking my fingers into the elastic and
pulling it from my tresses. Immediately, a long fall
of gold streams from my crown before lying in a
river against my back. It shimmers and waves
beneath the light, as if it has a life of its own.
“There it is,” I say with a small smile. “See? I
even have streaks of white, almost like an albino,” I
manage as a joke.
But Professor Moore is silent, and for a
moment, I think I’ve screwed up. Holy shit, I
probably just crossed some kind of unspoken
boundary, and he’s going to report me to the
authorities now. At the very least, things are going
to be extremely awkward from here on out.
But then, he gets up from his chair and circles
around until he’s standing behind me, his big bulk
large and imposing. Then he gets down on his knees
as I remain as still as a doe, and lightly trails a big
hand over my tresses.
“So beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re absolutely
gorgeous.”
My insides go hot and soft, and I inhale sharply.
Oh my gosh, Professor Roland is stroking my hair
gently now while running his fingers through the
golden locks, and I’ve never been so aroused in my
life. He hasn’t even really touched me yet, and
suddenly, I know that I want to give my innocence
to him. I want him to take me right here, in his
office, and with a mewl, I turn slowly to face him.
“I’m yours, Professor,” I say softly. And then
echoing the character in the book, I add, “Use my
body as you see fit.”
The handsome instructor doesn’t even hesitate.
In one fell swoop, his mouth claims mine, his lips
hard and demanding as my soft ones part beneath
his insistence. The air departs from my lungs even
as he pulls me against the massive wall of his chest.
“Are you sure, Aria?” he growls deep in his
throat before pulling away to stare in my eyes.
“Because once we go there, we’re not going back.”
I look into those navy depths for a moment, my
heart pounding. But I already know with a
womanly instinct that this is right. This man has
claimed me, and I am his woman.
“Yes, Professor Moore, I’m sure,” I murmur.
“Take me, because I’m yours.”
To be continued …
His Christmas Gift is now LIVE! Get your
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Let go of your inhibitions because S.E. Law is about to take you for
a wild ride with hot billionaires and alpha males with stunning six
packs. Fan of candy canes, popsicles, and anything rainbow.
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Document Outline
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Also by S.E. Law
- Subscribe Now
- Contents
- About This Book
- 1. Maisie
- 2. Maisie
- 3. Patrick
- 4. Maisie
- 5. Patrick
- 6. Maisie
- 7. Patrick
- 8. Maisie
- 9. Patrick
- 10. Maisie
- 11. Patrick
- 12. Maisie
- 13. Patrick
- Epilogue
- Sneak Peek: Daddy’s Christmas Gift
- About the Author
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