I let my hand drift down my stomach, then gripped my cock and stroked it. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I was attracted to Winnie. Deeply, helplessly attracted to her. It wasn’t going away anytime soon.
My hand began to pump the length of my cock. I flattened my other hand against the wall to steady myself as I closed my eyes, imagining those big eyes of hers looking at me, that full mouth dropping open in surprise or amusement or desire.
God.
I pumped harder, imagining myself deep inside her, her warmth enveloping me, imagining how she might taste and sound and smell. I imagined her begging me for more, moaning in ecstasy as I pounded into her.
My orgasm hit suddenly, hard, and unexpectedly. My knees went weak, and my body trembled as warm cum rushed from my cock in thick streams. Groaning at the release of tension, I opened my eyes and sagged against the wall.
Goddamn it.
I dried off, got dressed, and did my best to ignore the fact that I’d just fantasized about my nanny. I told myself I just needed sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day. And with any luck, I’d spend significantly less time thinking about the nanny.
Unfortunately, I already knew that was wishful thinking.
6
CONRAD
I woke to the sound of my bedroom door creaking open. This wasn’t unusual, in theory. The house was large and old with expensive hinges on the doors. Not to mention the endless settling noises at night.
Still, at three a.m. on a Monday, every unfamiliar sound carried the implication of a home invasion.
For one horrifying second, my half-asleep brain concluded there was an intruder who would murder us. Or perhaps it was a ghost. An intruder ghost, here to scare us to death and steal our prized possessions. Either way, we were surely screwed.
God, my children’s imaginations were getting to me.
Lightning flashed outside the windows, throwing pale light across the room, revealing Bianca standing in the doorway, clutching the frame with both hands. Her hair was uncharacteristically rumpled, and her pajama sleeves almost swallowed her hands. Even from across the room, I could see the miserable shine in her eyes.
“Daddy, I don’t feel well.”
I was upright before she finished the sentence. “What hurts?”
“My stomach.”
She took two stumbling steps into the room before she gagged.
Oh shit.
I jumped out of bed and grabbed the wastebasket. I barely got to her in time as she retched.
“Well,” she whispered weakly, staring into the basket with disgust. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Okay,” I said, already moving into crisis-management mode. “Okay. You’re okay.”
Another crack of thunder rolled outside. Rain hammered suddenly against the windows hard enough to rattle the glass.
The storm had arrived with enthusiasm. At least it had given us the weekend outside in the sun.
I guided Bianca into the bathroom and held back her hair while she rinsed her mouth. The girl looked absolutely devastated by the entire experience.
“I hate vomiting,” she moaned.
“I don’t think anybody’s especially pro-vomiting.”
“I think some people are neutral.”
I went to get her toothbrush from her bathroom and brought it to her. “You’re delirious. Brush your teeth.”
