Their Virgin Nanny Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Copyright © SCDaiko 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The locations are a mixture of real and imagined. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or any events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design RBA Designs

  Content editing Trenda Lundin

  All enquiries to [email protected]

  DISCLAIMER

  The title says it all.

  If you’re not into reading about a virgin’s first time,

  and her subsequent initiation

  at the hands of two super-hot daddies,

  then this book is probably not for you.

  If you’re not a fan of insta-lust and insta-love,

  and slightly over-the-top storylines,

  then this book is probably not for you.

  This book contains a lot of sex, both MMF and MM.

  If you are not into sexy reads,

  then this book is probably not for you.

  If, on the other hand, you’re already wet at the prospect,

  dive right in, and enjoy!

  Love,

  Siobhan

  xox

  P.S

  The language used in this book is the written and spoken English of the United Kingdom;

  the characters are Brits and the story is set in there.

  Medical and legal practices are also follow those used in the UK.

  DEDICATION

  For Trenda, with thanks.

  CONTENTS

  Disclaimer

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About SC Daiko

  Also by SC Daiko

  CHAPTER ONE

  GABE

  THE DOOR TO the study swings open, and I look up from my laptop as Luke explodes into the room. I flash him a smile, my gaze roving over his messed-up dark-blonde hair, unshaven stubble and broad shoulders. He bounds up to my desk. “Any luck?”

  “I was just about to check,” I say, shifting position on my chair to ease the sudden tingle in my balls. I could take him here and now, bend him over and fuck his tight little asshole until he shoots his load into my waiting hands… but there isn’t time.

  He stands behind me and peers over my shoulder as I scan the list of candidates emailed to me by the agency. I breathe in his fresh, clean, ocean-breeze scent. “I’ll print it off so we can have a look after dinner,” I say, clicking on the appropriate icon.

  I swivel around to face him while the printer whirs. I loop my arms around his waist. “I’m hard for you,” I groan, my voice deep and throaty.

  “You’re always hard for me,” he chuckles.

  “And you’re not for me?”

  “What do you think?” He grabs my hand and holds it against his rigid cock; my own dick twitches in response.

  “Gabe? Luke?” a voice echoes. It’s Abi with the boys. She works a twelve-hour shift, seven am to seven pm Mondays to Fridays. Abi rooms on the top floor of our Kensington townhouse, and has been our nanny since Matty was born just over three years ago. Inconspicuous and efficient, she’s a chubby girl with mousey-brown hair and a quiet manner. Shame she’s leaving to get married and move to Scotland; it will be bloody difficult to replace her.

  Luke springs back from me as she comes into the room, and his handsome face breaks into a smile that would light up the universe. He holds out his arms and Matty launches himself into them. Abi hands me Jack; I get to my feet and swing him over my head, unleashing a peel of giggles from my one-year-old son.

  “They’ve had their supper,” she announces in her no-nonsense voice. “Jack’s bedtime bottle is ready in the nursery.” She runs her hands down her ample hips. “And their bath is running. So, if that’s all, I’ll go up to my room. We’ve had a busy day and I’m shattered.”

  “Yes, yes, off you go,” I tell her. “We’ll take over now.”

  It’s our usual routine, and I’m comfortable with it. After we’ve bathed the boys and dressed them in their onesies, Matty begs me for a bedtime story. Biologically he’s Luke’s son, and the resemblance is uncanny. We used the same surrogate for both our boys, tossing a coin to choose who would go first. Luke won, and we waited until Matthew was eighteen months before I had my ‘turn’ to fill the turkey baster.

  Jack lies relaxed in Luke’s arms, sucking greedily at his bottle. His dark eyelashes fan his rounded cheeks; he opens his baby-blue eyes, locking them with Luke’s. The trust gets to me every time… and the unconditional love. Some people criticized Luke and me for having kids with no mother in the picture, but I grew up without a mama and it didn’t do me any harm. In any case, the boys’ biological mother, Sharon, visits once a week. It was one of her conditions for surrogacy.

  “Papa,” Matty whines when I finish reading him We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, “can you read me another story?”

  “Not tonight, son.” I make a point of glancing at my watch. “It’s bedtime already.”

  His lower lip trembles, but he takes in a breath and stills it. “Tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  Jack has fallen asleep already; Luke lifts him onto his shoulder and carries him across the room to his crib. After I’ve settled Matty in his bed, tucking him in with his teddies and comfort blanket, we both kiss him then switch on the nightlight and leave the door ajar, just the way he likes it… even though we’ll hear him call out via the monitor if he needs us.

  Down in the kitchen, at the lower garden level, Luke starts chopping onions to make a pasta sauce, and I pull the cork from a bottle of Chianti. Our house is tall and narrow, five floors, paid for by our blood, sweat and tears… me as senior partner in a law firm, and Luke from his work as a special effects artist in the post-production film industry.

  It’s a warm July evening, so I open the patio doors. The sounds of London reverberate in the air… planes heading towards Heathrow, police car sirens, traffic, all interspersed with evening birdsong. At this time of the year, it doesn’t get dark until ten pm. I set the table and pour us both a glass of wine. Oreo, our black and white neutered tom-cat, winds his way between my legs, purring; I smooth his silky fur and get a head butt in return.

  Luke appears with two bowls of spaghetti Bolognese; we dive in and eat hungrily in companionable silence. Abi always eats with the boys, and I suspec
t she has a collection of snacks up in her room to keep her going. Thinking about her gives me a prickle of worry. What if we can’t find a suitable replacement?

  “Where’s that list of applicants?” Luke asks, as if he’s read my mind.

  “I left it in the study,” I say, clearing our plates and then filling Oreo’s bowl with dry cat food. “I’ll go get it.”

  Within minutes, I return and we scan the details of five different girls. There’s one that catches my eye immediately. Twenty-two years old, the same age as Abi when she started with us. One year’s experience with an American family in Notting Hill. They’re returning to the States, which is why she’s looking for a new job. I hand the information to Luke. “This girl. Eleri Thomas. I like the look of her. She’s been caring for twin boys aged eighteen months. And she likes cats.”

  He stares at the girl’s picture, and his smile shows the dimples at the corners of his mouth. “She looks nice... like sugar and spice.”

  I grab the page back from him. Eleri’s face is pale, her dark wavy hair shoulder-length. She’s wearing a plain white blouse and is looking directly at the camera. Not at all like the sort of girl Luke and I have invited into our bed from time to time. Which is good. We deliberately chose Abi as she wouldn’t tempt us. Although we’re committed to each other one hundred percent, Luke and I like to spice up our sex lives by sharing a willing woman and fucking her together. We certainly wouldn’t want to fuck our nanny; apart from the ethics it would make life far too complicated.

  Thinking about sex has made me feel aroused. I put the girl’s details down on the kitchen counter. “I’ll email the agency tomorrow,” I say, giving Luke a needy look. “Let’s go to bed.”

  LUKE

  I CLOSE THE patio doors and check the cat-flap so Oreo can get in and out. He’s a good-natured beast, accepting of Matty carrying him around like a cuddly toy, but he needs his independence at night. Thank fuck we live in a quiet street and don’t need to worry too much about him ending up under a car.

  Gabe has already undressed before I step into our bedroom. I shoot a look at his perfect body: abs and pecs toned from daily workouts. Unlike my own shaggy dark-blonde hair, Gabe’s is almost black and neatly cropped. He never sports more than a day’s worth of stubble, whereas I avoid my bastard razor like I avoid going to the fucking dentist. His dark-blue eyes lock with my greens, and his smile is full of lust.

  We kiss, our lips meshing, his tongue seeking mine and drawing it into his hot mouth. He pushes down on my shoulders, and I know what he wants. His cock is iron-hard and straining against me. I slither down his body until I’m on my knees. Fuck, his dick is beautiful… thick, veined and ready for me.

  He buckles his legs and I suck him into my mouth, my own pierced cock throbbing as I taste his salty fluid. I sweep my tongue across his tip, sinking more deeply over him, pressing firmly against the underside.

  He groans and slides his hands into my hair, tilting his hips and pushing more of his thickness into my mouth. I open for him and take what he gives me. He begins to thrust deep and steady, the head of his dick grinding against the back of my throat, his balls bumping against my chin.

  He withdraws and I inhale a sharp breath, ready to suck him off again. But he pulls me up his body and kisses me instead. “Take off your clothes, tiger. I want you naked.”

  “Yes, sir,” I deadpan, stepping out of my jeans and boxers.

  He lifts off my t-shirt and pulls me against him. We kiss again, our tongues sliding together, our cocks rigid. I reach down to fist him, and his dick twitches in my hand as he releases a moan. He tugs at my shaft, jerking and pulling and stretching my length. I release him with a gasp, the ring of my Prince Albert pressing against his hand as I grip his beautiful ass. He lets go of my dick to hold my butt cheeks, and our cocks seek each other out, meshing together as we buck against each other, hard flesh against hard flesh, a frantic dance of hips and cock.

  Fuck, it feels incredible.

  My balls tighten, and tingles spark through them. “I’m gonna come, Gabe.” I grind into him.

  His cock jerks against mine and he explodes with a hiss, his cum shooting onto my lower abs. I grunt and thrust, my cock sliding in the slick of his release, and then I’m there too, spilling onto him as I crest the wave.

  I crush my mouth on Gabe’s before deepening the kiss, enjoying the feel of him, this man, my hot lover and best friend. “Guess we’d better have a shower,” I say, pulling away from him.

  “You’ve guessed right,” he smirks. “Dirty boy.”

  LATER, LYING IN our king-sized bed, I run my hand up his smooth chest. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” he breathes. “And I love you too. Sorry if I don’t say it that often. You know me. Stiff-upper-lip and all that.”

  His breathing slows and soon he’s asleep. I kiss his shoulder, and he sighs in his sleep, pulling me close.

  Meeting Gabe was the best thing that’s happened to me. Both in our late thirties, we’ve been together eight years already, healing the hurt we’d suffered from failed relationships. Mine with a woman whose career was more important to her than starting a family, and his with a bloke who left him for a himbo from Brighton.

  It was fate that brought us together, a chance meeting in the Beaufort Bar at The Savoy. We’re from different ends of the social spectrum, you could say. Gabe was drinking a champagne cocktail and I’d ordered a pint of ale. Gabe’s father is an earl and Gabe is set to inherit the title, not that you’d realize if you hadn’t been told; Gabe is totally unassuming.

  I close my eyes, trying to clear my mind of thoughts so I can sleep... tomorrow I have a ton of work to get through. I fucking hope this new girl works out… that’s if we take her on; it’s not every girl who’d be able to manage a set-up like ours.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ELERI

  I EXIT THE underground station, and follow the directions on my phone, my heels tip-tapping on the pavement. This part of London is even swankier than Notting Hill, where I’m currently a nanny. The houses I’m walking past cost millions, I know for a fact, and the people who live in them are way out of my league. Then again, I’m not expected to mix with the likes of my employers. I’m merely staff, hired help, whatever, living in the background of their lives, looking after their kids while they go out to work and handing them over in the evenings and on the weekends. No worries there.

  In my hand are the details emailed to me by the agency. Before they sent my info to Viscount Gabriel Aldridge and Mr Luke Addison, they asked me if I’d mind working for two gay men. Well, I don’t mind at all. Far from it. Even so, my tummy is fluttering with nerves. Will they like me? And, more importantly, will their kids?

  I turn off Kensington High Street up a side road, and soon I’m standing in front of their tall, narrow house, part of a terrace of similar properties. I walk up the steps and press the bell, my heart thumping.

  The door swings open and standing there is what I can only call an Adonis. His green eyes twinkle as he smiles, and there are actually dimples, dimples! at the corners of his mouth. He’s wearing tight black jeans, a white shirt, and a loose black jacket. I stare at him, and a stupid blush makes my cheeks grow hot.

  “Eleri, I presume?” he asks in a deep voice.

  “Yes, it’s El air y, though. You stress the ‘air’ when pronouncing.” And I find myself blushing again.

  He laughs, an infectious laugh, and I laugh with him to hide my embarrassment. “Gotta love Welsh names,” he says, showing me into the hallway. “And the cute accent. I’m Luke Addison, by the way. Just call me Luke.”

  If my cheeks were warm before, they’re burning up now. God, I’m such a dumbass. Just because a man says something nice to me shouldn’t make me go so red.

  I follow him across the black-and-white tiled hallway, through an open door and into a sitting room… which looks like it could be in one of those glossy home decor magazines. There are plush white sofas set in an L-
shape in front of the fireplace. White walls, red curtains and carpets, and a black coffee table.

  A stern-looking man gets to his feet from where he’s been sitting on one of the sofas. He’s taller than Luke by a couple of inches, and just as good-looking.

  Christ, Eleri, stop ogling. These guys are gay. End-of.

  “I’m Gabe,” stern-looking man says in a gruff tone. His dark-blue eyes bore into mine and it’s as if they’re about to gobble me up for dinner.

  “Eleri,” I say in a shaky voice, holding out my hand. “Pleased to meet you.” He’s a viscount, an aristocrat, should I curtsey? Nah, I tell myself. Don’t be silly!

  His grasp is firm and warm, but his eyes continue to eat mine; they’re incredibly deep, like the ocean, fringed with to-die-for thick black lashes. He’s wearing what look like designer blue-jeans, a crisp pale viola cotton shirt and a similar black jacket to Luke’s. “Take a seat, Eleri,” he indicates towards the sofa. “Tell us what made you decide to become a nanny.”

  I perch on the edge of the couch facing the fireplace, and give my spiel about loving kids and enjoying the early childhood degree I studied at uni. Luke, sitting on the same sofa as me, his long legs stretched out in front of him, listens intently.

  “Why London?” he asks, straight to the point. “I mean, it must be quite a change from Wales.”

  “I love the energy of this city,” I gush. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m Welsh through and through, only I wanted to try something different.” I keep to myself the fact that London wages are much higher than what I could earn back home. I don’t wanna come across as money-grabbing.

  Gabe pushes himself to his feet, and I can’t help noticing how powerful his body is. “We’ve arranged for you to spend a couple of hours with Abi and the boys. We trust her opinion implicitly as far as our sons are concerned. She’ll report back to us after you’ve left, and we’ll email you when we’ve reached our decision.”