But Mr. Martin was taking off the apron now, his big hands deft as he folded the cloth neatly and placed it on the counter.
"No, Ally," he said softly, this time stepping closer to me. The air in my lungs froze, pulse beating wildly as he came closer once more. "What I mean is that you think you know what you're doing … but you don't."
And at that, my heart almost burst through my chest, wildly pounding. Oh my god, could it be? No, it couldn't, he'd been reading something in his office last night, hadn't looked up even once. Oh god, oh god, what was next? He couldn't possibly be referring to my midnight show, could he?
But those blue eyes were knowing, looking me up and down as he rounded the kitchen counter.
"Ally, I saw everything," he confirmed silkily, blue eyes blazing into mine. "Because look what I have," he said, and reaching into his pocket, the big man pulled out my panties. I gasped, inhaling sharply, staring at the pink cotton. Oh god, they were so tiny in that big fist and as he unclenched his fingers, the aroma of my pussy filled the air, musky, heated, enveloping us, my panties giving away the secret I could no longer deny.
"Mr. Martin," I whispered. "I know what I did and I- I'm so sorry," I stuttered.
At that, a gleam came into his eye.
"Really? So sorry?" he asked. "Why?"
And to my shame, my body began juicing again, so aroused at his nearness, the alpha male now only mere feet away from me. How could this be happening? My boyfriend's dad saw my pussy last night, caught me touching myself outside his office, and yet I was turned on? Oh god, I flushed again, shamefaced yet aroused, wanting more, wanting to see where this would go.
"I-I apologize," I stammered breathily, "Because I'm a guest in your house and I shouldn't have been doing that. And … and you're my boyfriend's dad!" I finished with a mewl.
With that a look of knowing came into his eyes.
"Naw, don't worry about Jonah," he said casually. "My boy's got some growing up to do and he's nowhere near what a man should be. Even if he is my son," he said, eyes darkening momentarily. But then that blue gaze caught me again, and my body shivered with heat, coming alive with energy, a sizzling sensation burning in my pussy. "Besides, I love house guests, especially when they're beautiful females."
And now I could do nothing but look at him, taking in the big form so near, the gleam in his eyes, the warrior-like dominance of that frame.
"Mr. Martin," I whispered, eyes wide, senses on alert. "Please tell me how I can make it up to you. I didn't mean to disrespect you by showing off my body last night."
And the big man threw his head back and laughed mightily then.
"Baby, didn't I just tell you I love having beautiful females as house guests?" he chuckled deep in his throat. "And you, honey, have just become my favorite."
My breath lodged in my throat, breasts heaving up and down quickly. On the one hand, I loved the banter, I loved how Mr. Martin was making me wet, pussy tingling, nipples hard in anticipation of where this was going, every twist and turn so illicit. But on the other, how many females had he had over? How many "houseguests," how many beautiful, willing women had stayed here? And oh god, but I was still his son's girlfriend, and Jonah was probably in his room even now, about to come out at any second. So I tried to take control.
"Please let me know how I can make it up to you," I said as firmly as I could manage, looking him straight in the eye, sitting up like a ramrod. "If I can make things right, I will," I promised, taking a deep breath. "Do your laundry, cook some meals, even," and here I gulped, "move out."
I couldn't afford it, the dorms were closed for Thanksgiving and I didn't have the money for a hotel for a couple days. But maybe there was Airbnb or some short-term rental that wouldn't require a deposit. It would be tough, but I'd make it work.
And the big man threw his head back and laughed then, eyes dancing, like I'd said something truly funny.
"What, what is it?" I said, confused and little annoyed. "I'm trying to make things right, and if you want me to move out, I will, I get how, um, over the top I was."
But Mr. Martin shook his head again.
"No honey, you don't get it," he said silkily. "Last night, seeing you take off your panties, bend over and fuck yourself was fucking amazing, the best thing that happened this month, this entire year in fact."
And I flushed, going soft once again.
"Really?" I breathed. "Oh god." Because I was so wet listening to this. How did the big man do this to me? One minute I was getting ready to empty my bank account, to find a place to stay over the holidays, and yet now, hearing the word "pussy" from his mouth, especially referring to my swollen lips, turned the tables again, made me think something was going to happen right here in the kitchen, nasty and dirty. And I wasn't wrong because Mr. Martin nodded again, eyes gleaming.
"If you really want to make it up to me," he rumbled, his gaze like fire on my curvy form. "There is something you can do," his voice trailed.
And my breath caught. Oh my god, what was happening? I was a guest in his home, his son's girlfriend for crying out loud, and yet here I was creaming into my panties for the second time, desperate to have him touch me, to feel me all over, stroke my boobies, between my legs, anywhere he wanted.
"Yes, Mr. Martin," I whispered again. "Whatever you like."
And the big man smiled then, eyes gleaming, taking in my curvy form.
"Clothes, off," he rumbled, his gaze eating up my form. "Right here, right now."
I gasped. Was he crazy? We were in the kitchen for crying out loud, at ten a.m. on Thanksgiving Day.
"But Jonah could come in," I whispered, cheeks flushing hotly. "Your son, remember?"
But Mr. Martin just shook his head.
"Don't worry about it," he ground out, and with that the discussion was over. There was no changing his mind, no ifs, ands or buts about it, and the only thing I could do was obey. So body shivering, breath coming fast, I unbuttoned my skirt in back, slipping it over my hips and down my legs. Underneath I had on only my panties and long stockings, the material sheer and sensuous, the elasticized lace at the top clinging to my thighs.
His eyes devoured me, causing flame to burst in my pussy.
"Off," he commanded, and slowly, I slipped my panties off. Oh god, it was so embarrassing but it was just like last night. I was already creaming so much, so hard, that a trail of pussy juice ran from my cunt to the cloth as I pulled them down, long and oozing, wet and sensuous. Oh fuck, it was so disgusting but arousing at once, the evidence of my need, my want for him, every sense on alert.
And the low growl from Rob told me that he was losing it too, unbearably aroused, eyes frozen on my cunt as the white stream grew longer, pulled thinner as I slipped the panties down. And in a moment he was right next to me, a big finger scooping that white up, breaking the strand and lifting it to his lips for a taste.
"Fuck baby girl, it looked good last night and is even better now," he growled, lips only inches from mine as his tongue circled his digit, lapping up my white. "Fuck, you're fucking amazing."
And I moaned low in my throat then, helpless before him, breasts trembling, so close the nipples brushed his hard chest. But I wasn't naked yet and he let me know it.
"Everything off," the big man ground out, stepping back for a moment. "Everything."
And with that, I continued the illicit strip tease. Oh my god, it was broad daylight, the breakfast nook was bright and sunny, casting a gleaming light on my haunches, on my white skin as I stood before him. But the illumination only showed me how much he wanted it too, those blue eyes devouring me, watching every movement hungrily, aroused. Because Mr. Martin had pulled out his dick now and his cock was weeping as he watched, the tip dripping heavily, forming a circle of cum on the kitchen floor, virile and wet.
And so with tentative hands, I obeyed. I kicked the panties off, standing in my hose and high heels and slowly pulled the turtleneck over my head, revealing my girls. That's right, I hadn't worn a bra. Maybe it was the dirty girl in me, but I hadn't wanted to put one on this morning, I'd wanted to show my nipples a little, have them poke out slightly at we ate turkey, as a subtle reminder of how tasty I was, a little appetizer. But now, he was all about it.
"You've got big girls, Ally," he growled low in his throat, eyes fixed on the creamy orbs. "No bra, really?"
And I flushed, nipples growing harder under his gaze, big as saucers, pointing directly at him, the white flesh so creamy and succulent. My girls are huge, full Double Ds and I had no excuse but I made one up.