Kingpin’s Nanny: a Spicy Age Gap Grumpy-Sunshine Romance

I lift my hips in a rocking motion that somehow makes me even hornier.

“I wish you were here, instead of my fingers. I bet you’d be… Oh…” Even the thought of Lucas’ cock inside me sends a shock of pleasure to my core. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend he’s above me, sliver eyes flashing, that dark stubble rasping on my cheek. My lips tingle with my own breath, but I dream that it’s his as he tells me I’m his good girl, and to come for him.

“I want you. I’m so empty without you.” It’s ridiculous, but I’m enjoying voicing all the pent-up desires of the last half year. “Please. I need you to take me.”

I imagine him pushing into me and when I touch my fingers to the little hole where he’d do that, I can almost hear his growl of approval, and it breaks me.

My orgasm is a quick peak, harsh around the edges, but I like it. I moan and writhe through it as though Lucas was listening and watching.

I put on a show, and I enjoyed it. I pant, and enjoy the tingling sensation.

Ding!

I don’t notice the sound immediately, distracted as I am by my receding orgasm still rippling through me.

Then there’s another. Ding!

And it cuts through.

A notification from my phone.

Sitting up, I lean forwards. It’s only then I remove my hand from my pussy, and my hand shakes as I reach for the screen then stop. My fingers glisten. My fingertips are very slightly wrinkled.

Wincing, I close my legs and clean my hands with the nearest item of clothing—my Santa dress.

My heart smashes into my ribcage. It’s probably nothing, it can’t be. It’s just…

The icon next to YourBoss is green. He’s live.

My jaw drops open. How much did he see? When did he start watching?

And he’s left two messages in quick succession.

I stare uncomprehendingly, but my body knows. All the arousal and confidence I had drains away like I’m a sieve.

Whoever he is, he doesn’t want me.

I think I might cry.

I sigh, but do as my unseen patron says, slipping on my cotton knickers, and tugging an oversized T-shirt over my head.

“Is that it?” I ask miserably once I’m covered again. I feel very small and stupid.

“No!” I didn’t realise how much I wanted this, but the thought of whoever it is on the other side of this little mistake leaving is unbearable. “Why did you book my show?”

The dots bounce as he types, and I watch the screen as though I can will his response into existence. As if I take my gaze from it, he won’t answer.

But the bouncing stops, and no text appears.

“Why didn’t you turn up at the beginning?” I ask.

No reply. Not even a little bouncing ball.

“I don’t get it,” I say, frustration rising. “Why pay all that money and not watch?”

Oh. Oh my, that really hurts. I don’t want to be a mistake. My whole life I’ve been unwanted.

But he did book me. It wasn’t an accident. He logged into OnlySantas, made a profile, entered his credit card details, and ultimately, he’s here now. So I summon a smile that I hope is sultry and knowing.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Looking right into the camera, I run my fingers through my hair and stretch upwards, like I’ve seen other camgirls do. It’s cute and sexy. Probably.

“We haven’t had our exclusive.” I’ve dropped to a breathy whisper. “We still can. I’m yours to direct.”

I move my hands to my breasts and squeeze them together, leaning forwards to give him a better look. It doesn’t quite work in my T-shirt, but there are no more messages from my patron.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Boss.” Maybe he likes being called that, since he made it his screen name.

“No. It’s not.” The protest is out before I can stop it. I wanted something more from this evening.