Two glorious mounds of flesh, tanned to perfection in the southern California sun and so big they had to be fake, lay by the pool attached to a woman whose name Samuel Thompson kept forgetting. She was gorgeous and typically Californian with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her white bikini top had vanished the moment they’d stepped outside, and the tiny bottoms barely covered her ass as she rolled over to get some sun on her back.
Her breasts covered, he no longer found her interesting. Always been a tit man, he thought derisively as he stared at her flat ass. She apparently hadn’t bothered with butt implants, and besides the augmented breasts, he was certain she’d had work done on her face. Low self-esteem, and at twenty-five, he pondered, staring at her, lust the only emotion he felt for her. He knew she was looking for a free ride, a sugar daddy, and he’d play with her for a few weeks, perhaps. But the woman was dull to the point of retardation, the only topics of conversation she could join being celebrity gossip or her beauty regimen.
Sighing, he lifted his glass of red, a strange drink for pool-time relaxation, many of his friends thought. But his fortune, all 198 million of it, was because of his grandfather’s foresight in creating the most desired bottles of wine. Their family winery, Keva Vineyard, bottled only a set number each year, which meant a high demand and pushed the cost of each bottle to nearly a grand.
When Sam’s father had taken over, he had continued the same principles of business but had begun to invest, and those investments had paid dividends in the hundreds of thousands. Sam was living a life supported by millions, and though his father had wanted him to add to the family and the family fortune, Sam was content to live the life of a playboy.
As he pondered his world, the woman lifted, giving him an eyeful of perfectly rounded globes, and asked in a squeaky voice she thought was sexy, “What are we doing today?”
“You’re looking at it,” he replied, lifting his glass to her in a salute.
A pout flitted across her face before she cleared it, wearing instead a moue of sexy kitten as she rose and sashayed towards him. Her large breasts didn’t move an inch as she walked, their fake hardness almost a turnoff for Sam. She sat next to him on his lounge chair, her thigh touching his, and she leaned forward so her breasts were nearly touching his chest.
“Baby, I don’t want to stay home all day,” she simpered, smiling lasciviously. “Let’s go shopping. Or out on the yacht.”
Sam’s lips lifted in a smile he knew women swooned over. His brown hair was sun-kissed, the blonde streaks what women asked for at salons. His blues eyes were lighter than most and could be dancing with laughter one second, icy the next. He worked out every morning, the only thing on his schedule most days, so his six-foot body was honed to perfection.
“What are you gonna do for me?” he asked, her name still lost to him.
“Anything you want,” she purred, running her nails down his chest as she leaned in and kissed his lips.
When she sat up, he smirked and said, “Go lower.”
Smiling because she assumed if she blew him to completion she’d get her way, she kissed each of his nipples before sliding her tongue down his stomach. She stopped at his bellybutton and dipped her tongue inside, mimicking a man’s tongue on a woman’s clit. Sam’s eyebrows lifted as another layer peeled to reveal a possible interest in women, which meant a possible threesome for him. A subject to broach when she’s been shopping and found something pretty, he mused as she dragged his swim trunks down his legs.
As her lips wrapped snuggly around the head of his cock—which had hardened at the thought of a threesome—he lay back on his lounge chair, arms behind his head, and let her do all the work. Her mouth was magical, her tongue wicked, and her gentle hand on his balls perfect. She slipped a finger down his taint and massaged the area, teasingly close to his asshole but never quite making it there. No one had ever snuck a finger in his ass, but he had a buddy who told him it finished a blow job with a bigger bang than just a good sucking.
As he contemplated a new means of achieving ultimate pleasure, his phone rang shrilly, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at it but didn’t reach for it. Very few calls were important enough to stop a blow job. His sister’s name popped up on the screen, along with a picture of her and his niece smiling beautifully. He looked away as he felt his orgasm closing in, letting the call go to voicemail.
This woman sucked dick like a pro, had probably practiced plenty of times. He put his hand on her head and held her still while he pumped his hips, fucking her mouth to the point of gagging her. She held tight, wanting to please him, and let him mouth-fuck her. She wrapped her lips tight and angled her head so he could slip into her throat, and when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, he exploded into her mouth, bellowing his release like a bull calling his mate.
She swallowed every drop, gulping down his juice like it was an immortal elixir, only sitting up when he had quit shuddering. With a smirk of satisfaction, she reached for his wine glass and polished off the rest of it, swishing the sweet liquid around her mouth to wash the cum out. As she began to speak, his phone rang again, and he lifted a finger to silence her, ignoring the flare of fire in her eyes. If his sister called twice, she needed him.
“Hey, sis. What’s up?” he asked, slightly out of breath as he recovered from the explosion.
“Why are you breathing hard?” Cheryl asked without a greeting.
“No reason,” he answered, his voice filled with fake innocence.
“Whatever. Knock off whatever woman is on top of you. I need a favor,” she replied, her knowledge of his activities uncanny.
“I might be working out, Cheryl,” he responded without a trace of emotion.
“You do that at eight in the morning, not two in the afternoon,” she quipped, unwilling to believe in his innocence, which he’d lost long before she lost hers.
“What’s the favor?”
“Can you please go pick up Alice at school? I’m stuck at this damn venue because the bride has decided she doesn’t want the little white lights now,” she griped, mumbling ‘stupid bitch’ under her breath. “You’ll need to be there by 3:15.”
“Cheryl, why do you even do that job anymore?” Sam wondered, frowning as the woman—Audrey, he now recalled—began to play with his naked cock again. He extricated himself gently from the bimbo with his cum on her breath and stood, pulling his trunks up with one hand. “You don’t exactly need the money.”
Cheryl sniffed derisively. “I am not content to lay around all day doing nothing, Sam. I like to stay busy.”
“So busy you can’t pick up your daughter?”
“Don’t be a dickhead,” she ordered drily. “I think I’ve missed picking her up a total of two times since she started school, and Jason picked her up the last time. He’s not here anymore, so I need you to do it. Just like I need you to stand in sometimes when her father should be there for her.”
The guilt trip was unbearable for him, just as she knew it would be. Cheryl’s husband, Jason, had died in a crash nearly a year ago, leaving Cheryl a widow and their daughter fatherless. Sam had done his best to step up when he needed to in order to help Cheryl and Alice, and he actually enjoyed spending time with his niece.
“You know I’m just giving you shit,” he said by way of apology. “I’ll go get her. Text me the address.”
“Thank you,” she replied shortly before hanging up. The text came through seconds later and asked him to take her to her house and stay with her until she got home.
Grunting, Sam closed the text and muttered, “She needs to hire a damn nanny.”
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Sam glanced at Audrey and attempted to hide the grimace his face wanted to move into. “Nothing, Audrey. I gotta go. You know your way out.”
“Excuse me?” she said, her cheeks coloring in anger. “I just gave you the best fucking blow job of your life, and you’re telling me to leave.”
“Got something I gotta go do,” he said carelessly as he grabbed the empty glass and bottle to carry inside. “I’m leaving in a few, so you need to come in and get changed.”
Audrey stared at him with fury in her eyes, and before she turned, she flipped him off and called him an asshole. She stomped to her feet, grabbed a towel, and walked in, head high and naked from the waist up. His housekeeper, who was in the living room dusting, followed her progress as she walked through without speaking, but she turned her head when he stepped inside and sighed.
“Do you think, just once, one of these women could leave on a good note?” Marla asked, putting a hand on one of her ample hips. As usual, she wore an expression of exasperation.
“Maybe.” He shrugged as he hurried upstairs and yelled back to her, “Will you make sure she leaves? Have somebody take her home or something.”
“You know, I’m getting real tired of taking care of your bimbos, Sam,” she called, and he stopped and looked at her, grinning boyishly.
“Marla, please,” he pleaded. She waved at him, grumbling, and he blew her a kiss and continued upstairs.
“That boy,” he heard her say, and he imagined she was shaking her head at his retreating back.
Marla had been the housekeeper for most of his life. She ran the household and his schedule, and she had consoled him when his mother passed and his father was incoherent with grief. The grief hadn’t lasted; Walter Thompson had moved to Colorado with his girlfriend, who was younger than either of his children, six months later. Though the man lived several states away, he held control of the vineyard and continuously harangued Sam about showing an interest. Sam hadn’t really forgiven him for finding a girlfriend so quickly, or for moving far away, but he really didn’t feel like he had any right to pass judgment on someone’s lifestyle.
He dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a polo, threw some leather flipflops on his feet, and hurried to the garage. He decided to take the candy-apple-red Porsche because it was Alice’s favorite car, and he enjoyed the roar of the engine as he flew through the streets in an effort to reach the school on time.
* * *
When he arrived at Alice’s school, Vessy Elementary, he found a line of cars in the street waiting to get into the parking lot. With an exasperated sigh, he found a spot to park a block down and walked back, assuming correctly this was the quicker choice. As he sauntered across the parking lot, the cars had moved marginally forward since he’d driven past. With a quick inspection of the area, he saw a hot redhead helping children into cars and moved towards her.
He didn’t see Alice as he walked closer, but the procedure for pickup was unclear to him. Looks completely unorganized, he thought, though the redhead drew his eyes again when she called a child’s name. He slowed his walk so he could study her. Her red hair was long and abundantly curly, but it was pulled back in a tight ponytail at the back of her head, he’d bet to tame the riotous curls. She wore sunglasses, as did he, so he couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but her skin was flawlessly pale with a smattering of freckles. He wondered if those cute freckles were all over her body, or if she was smoothly pale beneath the teacher attire she wore. His cock twitched, and he decided she might be his next conquest.
Easy enough, he bet himself. She’s a teacher, can’t have much experience. A little wining and dining, take her to the vineyard at sunset for a romantic dinner, and she’d be in his bed that evening. A lot of energy to waste for one chick, he mused, but he bet she wouldn’t fall for his charm without a little romance. She was a teacher, which meant she probably had some brains, unlike his usual lays.
As he moved closer, he heard a little voice yell, “Uncle Sam!” He turned in time to see his niece’s towheaded hair disengage from a crowd of small children and launch herself towards the parking lot. His stomach lurched, and he lifted his arm to stop her from running out in front of the cars. The redhead saved the day, appearing out of nowhere when she’d been more than ten feet away and snatching Alice’s arm before she could get off the curb.
“Alice! Be careful, sweetie,” she was saying as he approached. “You almost ran in front of that car.”
Alice’s eyes widened angelically, and she threw her hands over her mouth dramatically. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Ms. Richards!”
“It’s okay, but let’s try to pay better attention,” Ms. Richards told her, smiling down at her and running a hand over her hair. “I would cry for a lifetime if something bad happened to you.”
“A lifetime? That’s a long time,” Alice said seriously.
“It is, so you have to be careful,” the woman replied before looking up at him.
Sam had watched the exchange, fascinated. He’d been ready to gripe at Alice for being careless, harshly because she had scared him, and this woman had made her point without hurting Alice’s feelings. He certainly would have. Not only had she handled his niece brilliantly, up close, she was stunning.
“Hi. I’m Sam Thompson, Alice’s uncle.” Sam introduced himself with a smile, holding out his hand.
“Ms. Richards. I’m Alice’s teacher,” she replied with a small smile. She shook his hand quickly, then bent to Alice. “Have a good evening, Alice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Ms. Richards!” Alice exclaimed, reaching for Sam’s hand as Ms. Richards turned away from them.
Sam stood still for a moment before realizing he’d been dismissed by this woman. Shock ran through him, and the fact that he’d actually have to try with her hit him like a ton of bricks. He cleared his throat to regain her attention.
“Thank you for grabbing her,” he commented, removing his glasses so she could see his eyes, which usually scored him some points with the opposite sex. He wished she’d do the same, but she called the name of a child and helped him into a car, ignoring him briefly.
After the car was gone, she called another before answering him. “All part of after-school duty,” she assured him politely as she said goodbye to the little boy and waved to his parent.
“Seems pretty hectic,” he tried again, his voice empathetic as he watched the next car move forward. A sign with a name and grade on it was in the window, which explained how she knew which child to call.
“It certainly is,” she said with a laugh that sounded like music. She called to another child.
“How long does this last?”
“About thirty minutes,” she informed him.
“Do you have to do this every single day?”
“No, each teacher takes his or her turn.” Finally, she looked at him, her smile barely visible. She looked irritated. “Mr. Thompson, I’m sorry, but I really can’t chat right now. Don’t want one to get away from me, you know,” she said, indicating Alice.
Stunned, Sam blinked at her, nodded his head, and said, “Gotcha. Come on, Alice. I brought your favorite car!”
“The one without a top?” she squealed as she grabbed his hand so he could lead her across the parking lot.
“No, the red one,” he answered, glancing back to see if Ms. Richards had heard him. She hadn’t.
As he led Alice to the Porsche, his frustration screamed loudly in his head. A teacher had literally blown him off. Fuck that bitch, he grumbled internally as he pretended to listen to Alice recount her day. Women didn’t blow him off, and rejection was unknown to him. He wanted to be angry, but it slowly gave way to devilish plotting. As he pulled away from the curb, he realized what he had to do.
This woman was a challenge. He hadn’t had one in a while; most women fell all over themselves to fuck him. Pleased with the idea of winning her, fucking her, and dropping her, he plotted ways in which to run into her, nodding and humming as his garrulous niece told him every single incident that had occurred at school that day.
When he heard Alice say Ms. Richards, he returned from the land of plotting and asked, “Tell me about Ms. Richards.”
“What do you mean?” Alice asked, her five-year-old mind a little confused because he’d stopped her in the middle of her tirade of information.
“Is she nice?”
“She’s so nice! She’s the best first grade teacher ever,” Alice assured him, smiling. “She loves animals, and she has a little boy who is my age and another little boy who is older than me.”
Frowning, he thought, Ah, she’s married, but he asked just in case. “So she’s married?” He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger.
“I don’t think so,” Alice said, shrugging. “I don’t know. She only talks about Toby and Cody.”
“Yep. Can we get some ice cream? I’m soooooo hungry!”
Smiling at her sudden change of topic, he said, “If you don’t tell your mom.”
“I won’t!” she promised.
“And if you can tell me Ms. Richards first name.”
“Uuuummmm,” she said, putting her little finger on her chin as she thought. He chuckled at her typical dramatics. “Carrie, I think.”
“Pretty name,” he mused, smiling to himself. He’d be trolling social media later to prepare his plan of attack. “Let’s get some ice cream.”