Esa + Case | Romantic Erotica | Nanny Erotica | Pregnancy Romance

.ch 17 esa.

He lets dinner go by without a word. Nolan chatters on about the day we had, the animals, the churro he got to eat. He holds his hands out saying, "it was this big." Judging by his hands we had a footlong dessert... not quite. He's talking so much, he's barely had a bite of food.

Case hardly looks at him. Glowering at his plate, he's using his fork like it's a fucking spear. Nolan grows quite under his lack of acknowledgement.

"I'm listening, keep going. Then what happened?" I ask, reigniting the spark in our conversation. Though he's young, his mouth moves a mile a minute. I still can't believe how well he holds a conversation.

"Nolan," his dad interrupts us. "It's time to eat. Bath time is soon."

I shoot him a look that says, what the hell? Because seriously, what the hell? We had such a good day today, proof that a little break in the routine is necessary. Why does he want to ruin this?

Case cleans off his own plate, and then without waiting for them to finish he takes both kids upstairs for a bath. "Wait here," he tells me.

I roll my eyes. Like I'm going to sit in the fucking kitchen and wait for him to get back. Sweeping the plates off the table, I wipe everything down, and start the dishwasher.

Technically my contracted time is up for the day. If he thinks I'm going to sit at the kitchen table like a good little girl and wait for him to get back to lecture me, he's an idiot.

He's made me so mad, I convince myself that's why I'm doing this. While I knew he was upstairs, preoccupied with the kids, I went out. Technically, I can come and go as I please. I'm not a prisoner. But I'm always home. Always with the kid, always with him.

I can't take it anymore. His confusing words. The way he's hot and cold. Cutting me down and then filling me with hope at his lustful stares. That's when it hits me. It's just that- lust. He doesn't care about me. He cares about my body. And what he thinks he can do to it.

For some reason, it hurts my heart. I have to remind myself that we're playing house. I'm not his anything, other than his employee. That's why it doesn't matter who I fuck tonight. I just want to blow off steam and clear my head.

At a club downtown, I don't see my partner at first, I only feel him. Strong hands that slip over my tight black dress. He's skilled. Working his fingers to the beat of the music, it strums something deep inside me. But then I smell it. It doesn't smell like him and it leaves me disappointed.

I push the thought aside and press my ass against him, feeling the erection he's been nursing. It throbs to life. It's big and firm and exactly what I need to take my mind off of Case fucking Williams.

Pulling my hand, he drags me toward the bathroom. He pushes me against the wall and kisses down my neck. The feel of his tongue should make me hot, it's even more talented than his hands. But it just feels wrong. I look around the bathroom. It's so disgusting in here. What am I doing?

I start to push back and say I need a minute. He continues to kiss, pinning me to the wall. "This was fun," I say, turning sideways to get away from the torture of his tongue. "You'll make someone else very happy tonight, but I've got to get home to my kids." He gapes, and roves over my body in disbelief.

No, they aren't my kids. And I don't actually need to get home to them. But I took a chance that it would turn him off.

It worked.

I came intending to get drunk and fuck my worries away. Now I'm just heading home. Tonight is annoying.

I slip off my heels as soon as I enter. It's his rule. No shoes in the house. So many rules.

I wanted to get drunk and that's what I decide I'm going to do. He doesn't keep liquor in the house- except for the office. It's off limits to the kids. And probably off limits to me, I don't know. I've never had a reason to go in there.

I saw Adra cleaning it one day and noticed a crystal decanter full of dark liquid. Whiskey or scotch, I'm betting. It doesn't matter, I'm drinking it.

I slink down on the buttery leather of the sofa, still in my black slip of a dress. The liquid is warm. I wish I had some ice, but I don't dare risk going to the kitchen. I'm staying here until I'm drunk.

That's exactly what I do. After three glasses, that I drink too quickly, my eyes are heavy. I swallow hard and decide if I'm sleeping here or if I want to stumble to bed.