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My Wildest Fantasy 2
Copyright © 2015 Kelli Wolfe
Published by Pink Parts Press
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older.
“Do it,” she whispered, her breath a warm tickle against my lips. “Take me hard. Use me. I’ll do anything you want.”
Screwing Callie had been a mistake. She was half my age, it had been her first time, and her mother was my worst enemy. If that vindictive witch ever found out what I’d done to her precious little princess, she’d cut off my balls with a rusty knife.
Callie just doesn’t give a damn, though. She’s used to getting what she wants, and what she wants right now is me. That it’s wrong doesn’t matter to her. That I might end up singing soprano if we get caught doesn’t matter to her. That her own mother would be willing to drag her name through the mud to publicly crucify me in order to ruin me doesn’t matter to her.
I have to find a way to stop it. If we keep going, her mother will eventually catch us. When that happens, all Hell is going to break loose. But when I tried to tell her it was over, that we couldn’t do this again, she just laughed at me and said,
“I’ll bet you don’t last a week.”
* * *
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My Wildest Fantasy 2
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Callie would not let up.
Fucking her had been a mistake. She was too young (but just old enough to be legal, my subconscious pointed out helpfully). She was Olivia’s daughter (but Olivia was away in Europe). Worst of all she had been a virgin when I took her (thereby doing exactly what she begged for)—without a condom no less. I must have been stark-raving insane. If her mother ever found out that I had deflowered her precious little princess, she’d cut off my balls with a dull, rusty knife. My subconscious remained conspicuously silent after that one.
Everything had been fine until the morning after. We’d fucked the night away like a pair of minks on ecstasy until we both gave out from sheer exhaustion—and exhausting an eighteen-year-old nymphomaniac-in-training takes some doing, believe me. Callie had finally curled up against me and zonked right out as though we did this every night and she hadn’t a care in the world. I’d followed soon after, even though I should have known better. I should have kicked her out right then and made her go back to her own room, no matter how tired she was. No matter how badly I knew I was going to want her again when I woke up.
Especially because I knew I was going to want her again.
But when she got up the next morning to go to the bathroom, her normally graceful, sexy gait now slow and halting, what I had done finally sank in. I yanked back the comforter and stared at the dark stains on my sheets, an accusation written in blood, and felt lower than I had ever been in my life. What in the fuck was wrong with me? Two days. I hadn’t been back from Australia for two goddamned days, and somehow I couldn’t manage to not fuck Olivia’s only daughter.
And then there was her mother. God help me if that vindictive witch ever found out. Olivia would find a way to crucify me publicly in order to ruin all of my business contacts, and I had no doubt at all that she’d be willing to drag Callie’s name through the mud if it meant a chance to get at me. I had already taken the poor kid’s virginity—she had apparently been saving herself for someone special—and I sure didn’t want her to get caught in the middle of my decades-long feud with her mother just because I didn’t have enough self restraint to keep my hands off of her admittedly luscious young body.
Callie just didn’t give a damn. She was used to getting what she wanted, and what she wanted right now was me. That it was wrong didn’t matter. That I might end up singing soprano if we got caught didn’t matter. That I kept telling her ‘No’ didn’t matter—she invariably developed an acute hearing impairment whenever that word got used. For all the good it did, I might as well have been standing on a beach trying to wave off an impending hurricane. Either way, I was fucked.