Stripping for My Boyfriend’s Dad: A Fertile First Time

Even though I’m a stripper, I’ve been saving myself for marriage. I even dance for my boyfriend in the club so we don’t get carried away.

When I meet my boyfriend’s father, I’m shocked to realize I’ve been dancing for him too. My boyfriend told me to do whatever his dad wants, but what he wants is me.

He’s twice my age, gorgeous, rich, and when he touches my thigh, I melt. I eagerly submit to our desires, even when he doesn’t pull out. By the time my boyfriend joins us, my innocence is gone, and I’m filled with virile seed.

♡ Excerpt ♡

“Just remember, whatever my father says, we gotta keep him happy. The inheritance, the company, the mansions. Vacation homes, private jets… It all goes away if we don’t,” Rex stressed to me.

Silly Rex.

He cared more about luxuries than what mattered.

* * *

Mr. Rutherford’s free hand slid down my thigh, to the edge of that white dress, touching my bare skin there.

“When are you working next?” he asked.

“Next Thursday. I only work on weekends. I have to work twice as hard to make half as much through the week most of the time. It’s just not worth it,” I replied without thinking. It wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I paused.

“You’re not going to come see me again, are you? Now that you know I’m dating your son?”

He chuckled lowly at that, his rough fingertips caressing along my soft thigh flesh, curling that dress skirt a little as he did.

“Of course I am. What? You want me to lie and say it wasn’t on my mind?” he said so close to my ear. His voice was so gruff and rumbly; it made me tingle just to hear it.

“Saying and doing are two different things,” I murmured back, glancing at him from the edge of my vision. The situation was getting out of hand. Super out of hand.

But… Rex said I needed to do whatever he wanted.

Problem was, I was getting a pretty good idea of what he wanted.

I pressed my thighs together tighter, my feminine heat radiating from between them. Not good.

But the way he met my gaze so unflinchingly just made matters worse as he spoke.

“I’m a man of action. What I say, and what I do, are one-in-the-same,” he said. His firm hand slid a little higher up my thigh, his fingertips teasing at the meeting point of them both.

“Of course, there’s no need to wait until Thursday. Not while we’re here together now.”

He leaned in and gently guided my head to the side as he kissed my neck.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

In the club, I would have batted him away, stood up, did a swirl, distracted him from getting too greedy.

So why do I suddenly feel so weak to resist?

I swallowed down a nervous laugh, and though I tried to squirm aside, the slick leather couch kept me pressed into his side.

“Mr. Rutherford…”

He kissed my slender neck. His powerful hand pushed between my milky thighs, prying them apart with confidence. He was a mountain of a man. His body was all hard, corded muscle. He radiated an aura of getting what he craved.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything we don’t both want.”