Page 24 of Nanny for the Cowboy

Remembering the bit of surprise on Clover’s face, I picture it shifting, becoming a look of something so much darker, so much hungrier. I can see her walking up to me as I turn to face her, still shirtless, but both hands are available to catch her as she jumps up into my arms.

My hand slips lower down my stomach until I find the base of my hard cock, squeezing until I groan. She’s wrapping her legs around my waist as she crashes her lips against mine, that fiery little Clover who drives me mad in every possible way.

God, she’d taste fucking fantastic, I bet—all sweet tea and sunshine.

I don’t stroke. Instead, I maintain that firm grip as I rock my hips back and forth, fucking into it as I imagine rubbing my cock against the smooth seam between Clover’s legs.

A groan escapes me as my breath becomes shallow, images of Clover undoing my belt and freeing my erection.

More follow it—Clover on her knees, sucking my cock right in the shed, pulling her up and yanking her shorts down, feasting on her incredible pussy as I lift one leg up onto the workbench, hoisting her tiny self up onto it and fucking her with everything I have, making the tools that hang on the shed wall bounce wildly.

Hot need burns through my veins as I pump into my fist. I grip so tight it hurts, and that pain swirls together with the ecstasy my mind is conjuring up.

I’ve never wanted anyone like this. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating.

Clover cries out silently in my head, and I’m desperate to know what those screams of pleasure would actually sound like. I’m desperate to know what she wouldfeellike.

How would her tight pussy grip my cock? What would it be like to have her fluttering around me, coming for me like the good little girl I know I can make her be?

The thoughts are enough to send me reeling, and I thrust into my hand with abandon, losing my sense of reality as the need to come barrels through me like a wild bull. Sensations that I’ve denied myself for years build up more and more until I know I’m seconds from flying off that cliff.

But the one that rocks me over the edge is imagining Clover, her legs hoisted up as I drive myself into her up to the hilt, touching that needy clit of hers and begging for my come.

Please, Brooks. Please fill me up.

I lose it, shattering apart in a series of jerking thrusts. My release forces my eyes shut, squeezed as tight as my grip on my shaft.

Jets and jets of my spend launch from me, painting the shower wall. It goes on for ages, the climax I haven’t allowed myself now taking its time.

As my breathing calms, my heartbeat returning to its normal rhythm, I’m left in the shower alone. I feel slightly light-headed, and then comes the rush of guilt.

“Fucking hell.”

There’s no way around it. I just jerked off to my best friend’s daughter, my damn nanny. What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve gone so long without needing this shit. Why is it so much harder to keep that city girl out of my head?

But I’ve got no answers to any of those questions or the dozen or so others that fill in the space behind them. I don’t know why Clover’s mere presence cuts to my heart like this.

She just…does.

Pulling down the shower head, I rinse my shame from the wall, running the stream over my hand and my softening dick until I feel at least slightly more “clean.”

When I step out of the shower and grab the towel that hangs on the bar built into the door, I wrap it around my waist, unable to bring myself to meet my eyes in my reflection.

I shake my head at myself, walking to the sink to snag my phone. I was in that fucking shower way longer than I thought. Of course, now my stomach is particularly empty and demanding more food.

I’ll just grab a beer. Maybe a bite of some cheese. Then my ass is hitting the sack.

As I step out of the bedroom to head down to the kitchen, I’m still dripping water, but I don’t give a fuck. This is just a quick in and out.

I pad down the stairs toward the kitchen, but the moment I round the corner to head to the fridge, I run smack dab into another body. Stumbling backward after the collision, I hold my hand out, gripping one shoulder in an attempt to steady both of us.

“Brooks?”

Shaking my head, I blink, realizing that Clover is standing in front of me and that I’ve got a hold of her with my good arm. I drop my hand immediately before quickly discovering they’re not the only thing that’s fallen.

The towel.

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