Thank you for the reviews! We were pleasantly surprised with the level of depravity ;)

Let's get to Kinktober day 2, okay? Dani thought it was hot. So hopefully, you too!

Big kiss,

Dani Pearly

Title

: baby, sit.

Kink: Babysitter x Parent

Author: PearlyFox

TWs: general raunchyness, cheating, age-gap, underage sex, minor x adult, asphyxiation (duh, it's me) and a tiny dot of blood. Like tiny, tiny.

Yeah, mom. I'll thank Mr. Cullen.

I'll thank him for the nights where I got to his house and was welcomed by his bitch of a wife who was eager to run off to the nearest housewife party.

Of course, mother. I'll do all Mr. Cullen asks of me.

I'll make sure to show him my gratitude for coming home early, so he could fuck me senseless on the kitchen table, or the couch, or against the wall that's scattered with his wedding photos. And yeah, I'll duck when the biggest portrait of all—the one in the middle almost hits my head.

Fuck, we'll both laugh as glass shatters around us. Mr. Cullen will surely give me a band-aid, after he licks my blood off his fingers that still taste like my pussy.

Yeah, mom. I'll be a good girl for Mr. Cullen. But he likes it better when I'm being bad...

I get to the Cullen house around seven that night. Mrs. Cullen is away on a business trip, and her husband has to go see some clients. Therefore, little old me has to babysit their son. He's only three, so I don't have too much trouble with the little guy.

I see him, dressed to the fucking nines. He's always looking sharp—like the shark he is, doused in Armani and silk ties while his shoes shine even when it's dark out. My heart rate skyrockets when he opens the glass front door, hinges swiveling soundlessly and perfectly.

Motherfucker.

Clutching the strap of my leather backpack, I swallow hard as he steps into the light. His copper and golden hair catches it, shining like there are fucking diamonds encrusted within it.

"Isabella, come in." His voice is liquid sex, drizzled over a hot, tailored navy suit that only amplifies his pale complexion, the shades of orange his hair hides.

"Mr. Cullen, good evening." I give him my best smile as I feel my fingertips graze the edge of my pink, plaid skirt. I hemmed it myself—a tad too much. Too bad I cut the excess off and Mother doesn't even notice half my ass hanging out when I bend down slightly.

I feel his emerald gaze on me, sliding over me and halting at the tops of my thighs. His eyes grow darker, and he licks his lips as he takes in nude fishnets and white Doc Martens paired with frilly socks. He fucking loves me like this. All cute and virginal, with a hint of spice. But he wants to play the game tonight.

I'll let him.

There's a smug smile on my face. I know he's watching me, because he always is. Since the Cullen's have a 'no shoes in the living room' policy, I throw my hair over my right shoulder, bend down to untie my laces.

I can hear his sharp intake of breath as I flash him my neon pink thong, the one that's all satin and shows just how much I want him. Yeah, just looking at Mr. Cullen has me as wet as Niagara Falls. I keep my legs stretched, the pull at my calf muscles and my hamstrings deliciously achy.

"I should've worn slip-ons," I chuckle as I fumble with the stiff, pink-and-white checkered laces. He mutters something about not wearing anything, but doesn't even speak to me after that.

"So, you know where all his stuff is. Clive had dinner and his bath already, so just tuck him in in about an hour. It's the weekend so he can have some extra time playing if he wants." Just when his father drops his name, Clive turns around the corner—pale auburn hair jumping up and down as he runs my way. Little Cullen likes me, too.

"Bell! Daddy!" He stops right in his tracks in front of Mr. Cullen, clutching onto the expensive fabric of the tailored slacks he wears, tugging until he gets attention. Men…

"Bell, you gotta watch the elephants with me!"

Cullen huffs at his son's manners, as Clive hangs onto his leg for dear life. I cock my head to the side, eyes fluttering from son to father until I meet nothing but deep green eyes that lock me into place. I lick my bottom lip before I bite it, the taste of my vanilla gloss lingering on my tongue.

"Well," I start, sinking down so I'm crouching in front of the mini version of the glorious Edward Cullen. I look up through my lashes, watch the way his eyes roam my thighs, up to my tits and my sad, little cleavage that I create by pushing my arms closer together. "You have to ask daddy," I tell Clive.

Mr. Cullen's eyes crinkle at the corners as he narrows them at me. I blink a couple times, and I laugh when Cullen Junior groans playfully before he jets off to the living room.

"Aww, look at him. He already knows daddy would say 'no' if he asked." I pout my lips at the tall, lean, god in front of me. He responds with a deep breath before he turns and takes his keys.

"Better be good, Isabella. Wouldn't want to have to tell your mother that you've been a bad girl." He's mocking me like he always is, but I know just what he means. He's frustrated. I haven't had him to myself in a while.

"I'm always good, aren't I, Mr. Cullen?" I ask innocently. When he doesn't respond, I decide to kick it up a notch, rattle the cage. "What's wrong, Daddy? Did Mommy cut off your tongue when she cut off your balls before she left on her trip?"

"Next time you're on your knees like this, your mouth will be too fucking full to talk shit, Isabella." He leaves right after, keys rattling as he walks to the door and slams it shut.

x.X.x

I'm in the middle of grabbing a snack when I hear the engine of Mr. Cullen's Mercedes. Tires crush the gravel on the driveway and headlights peek in through the glass front door before I notice the garage door slide open.

There's a smile on my face as I lick some whipped cream from my fingers after making myself a sundae. I make sure to unbutton the top button of my cardigan, the lace cup of my bra peeking out, and rearrange the girls so they're high and perky and look a little fuller than they actually are, before I go back to my dessert.

My breath gets knocked out of me when I'm suddenly pinned against the kitchen island. It's marble, so cold to the exposed skin of my midriff and thighs. Warm, large fingers sprawl over my head, gripping my hair right at the root as he forces my upper body down onto Italian marble.

"Well, princess? Eating my food, now?" He grunts into my ear. It's low and gravely and so sexy it makes my pussy weep for him. "Don't you know you have to deserve your dessert?"

I chuckle, flushed cheek against cold natural stone, and he strengthens his grip. I moan, pressing my ass back against the front of him—his cock hard and ready.

"I took care of your house, Mr. Cullen…" I mutter, smiling through my charade.

"Take care of my cock and we'll talk." His hips buck into my ass forcefully, my cardigan inching higher and higher, more cold marble against my heated skin.

"Oh, Mr. Cullen… What are you talking about?" I mock, trying to look at him, but he pressed my face down, hard.

"I'm talking about you, your hot little cunt draped around my cock. Or mouth. It's up to you, I'm feeling generous."

"Mhm." I betray myself, my legs moving further apart when he inches his knee in between my thighs. It takes every ounce of my restraint not to rub myself on his leg.

"What's it gonna be, Isabella?" He barks. "Mouth, or pussy?"

"What about ass, Mr. Cullen?" I bite back, wriggling against him. I know he wants it and his wife won't ever give him that, but he's afraid to corrupt me even more than he already has. Even though he wasn't my first, he's been the best there ever was. All man, experienced, so fucking skilled he can practically make me come on demand by now.

My skirt flies up, exposing my ass before he slaps it, the sound of his palm on my cheek loud in his empty kitchen.

"Such a little cocktease, aren't you? You want my cock shoved up your pretty asshole, angel?" His nicknames make my heart thump hard and heavy, but his words make me soak my thong—make my clit throb violently. He moves his thumb over the fabric that covers me there, applying the lightest of pressure as he chuckles darkly.

"I, I—" I stammer innocently. It makes him pull away and grab me by the shoulders, turning me around to face him. His eyes are so vivid, wild and so pretty. My teeth cut into the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning. I've got him right where I want him, my fingertips playing with his black, shiny tie. "I've never done that before… Mr. Cullen." I look up at him with big, doe eyes, pursing my lips.

"Oh," he starts, cocking his head to the side.

He looks so young right now—nothing like the forty-year-old lawyer I see get into his car every morning before dawn. There's a dimple hiding underneath day-old scruff that I've never noticed before. "So tell me, sweetheart… what have you done before?" He cages me in, his palms flat against the counter and my nose inches from his chin as I look up. I want to rise up and lick him—but I can't right now. Right now, he needs something, and I want to give it to him...badly.

"I've kissed."

"Have you ever kissed a cock, baby?" Desire runs through me like shivers when he calls me that, and I feel the tips of my fingers slide down his tie and in between the buttons of his shirt. He's so warm, soft skin and downy hairs on his chest.

"No," I lie.

"Ever sit on one, then?" He tries again. I shake my head and cast my head down innocently. God, how I want to be impaled by one, now. My hair falls down, covering my face, but Mr. Cullen is quick to run his fingers through it, forcing my head up again.

Suddenly he's gone, stepping away until he sits down on the expensive, walnut chair he pulled out from under the kitchen table. He's got his legs wide, forearms on the velvet-dressed armrests in Mrs. Cullen's favorite shade of maroon. It's a shame he looks so good on it, too.

"You ever wanted to try it?" He asks me, brow arched, loosening his tie before moving on to the tiny little buttons on his cuffs. I keep watching him as he rolls up his sleeves and exposes more skin, his forearms flexing with even the tiniest of movements.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen," I breathe. I sound like a whore but I don't care, especially not when he's staring at me with that feral look on his face, his erection straining against his pants. Shit, that's gotta be uncomfortable.

"Come, baby. Sit." He challenges, eyes narrow and sultry.

As if I'd deny him—or his cock.

"You know," I start, walking closer to him as I undo my cardigan. It falls open, cotton caressing my ribs before I let it fall off my shoulders and onto white, polished concrete floors. "Unlike daddy, I don't always say no." His eyes zero in on my tits, on my hard as fuck nipples underneath flimsy, cheap lace. I bet my lingerie has nothing on the collection his wife has stashed away inside her drawers.

"Daddy would be very sad if you said no, baby…" he grins at me, fire coursing through me when he talks about himself like this. It's so wrong, but it feels so fucking good I can't help myself.

And neither can he. That's why I walk closer still, my socks making no sound at all.

"You're gonna have to show me, Mr. Cullen," I purr.

"Show you, what?" He plays, twirling a lock of my dark hair around his pointer finger as I straddle him on the chair.

"How I have to sit on your cock." My voice is breathy, and I whimper when he slams me down on it, and I feel just how badly daddy needs to be ridden. I gyrate my hips a little, the soft material of his slacks making my silk-covered pussy slide over him effortlessly. But I need more, need it harder. He knows I do since Mr. Cullen is the one who taught me that.

"Oh, baby. I think you know how to, just fine."

"Mhmm, you think they teach me that in school?" I giggle. My sass is rewarded by the biggest grin before he nuzzles my neck, bites me there softly.

"If they did, we wouldn't even be here," he mutters against my skin. It's true.

Pulling me back with his fingers entangled in my hair, he looks at me—searches my face for the slightest hint of doubt, the one he never finds. He tugs, devilish grin on his handsome face before his lips crush onto mine. Finally. Game over.

I'm wild, my nails digging into his neck before he growls and I lay off. We have to be careful, and we can't leave any marks other people might see. He moans when my tongue swirls along the seams of his lips, twirling against his before I suck it. I make a show out of it—a performance for him as I suck his tongue like I do to his cock, like I did a week ago, grinding my pussy against the bulge in his pants. He's grabbing my hips, guiding me down, bucking up against me until I'm surely soaking onto his slacks.

"Fuck this shit," he grunts, hot palms splayed onto my bare ass. He kneads as he lifts me up when he stands and I hiss at the cold, cold stone of the counter when Mr. Cullen sets me back down.

His lips are on mine again instantly, his kiss ferocious and animalistic before he bites my bottom lip and tugs. I'm moaning, a sweaty, wet mess underneath him as I spread my legs wide. When he steps in between them, hands on my bra-covered tits, I lift my right leg and put my foot on his chest, pushing him off me slightly even though my strength is no match for his.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" I shake my head and lean back on my elbows as he watches me, fuming and a little red in the face. He knows just what I want from him, yet he rarely gives in to it. "Too many clothes," I explain. He looks down, eyes roaming my body, the curve of my hips and right back to my tits before he arches that fuckhot brow of his again.

"I was talking about you…" I mutter, not backing down. Instead of complying right away, he sighs and kisses the side of my calf, biting my fishnets until they snap right where his mouth is.

"Oops," he mutters. "Might as well take those off, too."

"Please," I try and bat my lashes. "Please, daddy… take off your clothes for me?" He rarely does, but his wife is out for the next day and a half, so we should be safe. My mother doesn't expect me until midnight. It's only ten.

When he still doesn't respond, I resort to trickery and seduction. My foot leaves his chest and I spread my legs as wide as they can go, feet on the edge of the counter. I let him see just what he does to me, rub my wet thong for friction on my clit until I'm panting and throwing my head back. I can hear his breathing, how it gets shallower, and he lets out a heart wrenching grunt that sets it all off.

He's all over me then, ripping my fishnets at the crotch, fingers diving into my underwear until he enters me roughly. His face is so close, hot breath fanning over my face as he fucks me with two fingers. I'm so wet it's all I hear each time the path of his thumb meets my clit harshly. I cry out when he curls his fingers and even louder so when he removes them and shoves them down my throat. I almost gag from his force but look him dead in the eyes as I clean myself off of him.

"Mhmm, good girl." I melt when he says this and starts unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. Yes, he's going to give in. "I'll make you come later…" he promises. I grin like a Cheshire cat, because I know he will—more than once, too, probably and sit back up. I help him with the buckle of his belt, groan when his pants hit the floor and he's in nothing but grey boxers that are darker at his tip.

"Thank you, daddy…" I smile at him, kissing my way down between his pecs until I meet the defined lines of his abs. Yes. Daddy works out, too. He's a fucking god. Scratch that. He's the motherfucking demon.

He rids himself off the last layer of fabric on his body, leaving him entirely naked, and me in my skirt, ripped stockings and underwear. Fuck, he's hot like this, carved like a fucking statue in the dim lighting.

"Let your pussy thank me, princess," he chuckles. His hands are on my thighs, fingertips grazing the hem of my thong underneath the holes of my tights. I shift, eager for more—for him, but he's a master of torture when it comes to giving me what I really want.

"Take it, then." I bite.

He yanks my thighs, my ass on the edge and his cock hot and heavy against my pussy. I moan as I move my hips up and down, searching for more, before he finally gives in. Moving my thong aside, he slips inside me without warning.

"God…" I let my head fall back as he keeps his hands firmly on my thighs, thrusting violently with punishing force.

"It's not his cock that makes you feel this way, baby." His voice is strained, face contorted as his eyes close, his teeth digging into his full, bottom lip.

"No, it's yours… You have the best cock, daddy." I'm loud—too loud with his kid in the house, but I hope he's out cold and won't even know about his babysitter fucking his father.

"You bet it is, little whore." He's sliding his hand in between my tits, ripping the right cup of my bra before tugging my nipple. I whimper at the way he's making me feel—weightless, ageless, desirable. We're perfect like this. One large, scorching palm presses my lower stomach as he continues driving into me like he might fucking die if he slows down. I'm in heaven right now, trapped in between that place of warm-fuzzies and mind-blowing orgasms. Right on the edge, already. "Look at the way your tight pussy sucks me whole, baby. So fucking tight." He's not making any sense now, but he never is by this point, and I know what to do next to get him into the next phase of ecstasy.

"Yes, daddy… my pussy is made for your cock," I manage to bring out in between hot flashes of pleasure that run through my very core. "Fill me up, daddy. Give me your cum."

It's all he needs to kick it up a notch, his hands leaving my thighs and settling onto my tits before they meet my throat. Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Choke me, daddy." Come on, I know you want to.

"Shut your filthy mouth already," he grunts.

"Then make me." Fingers curl around my neck, and the weight of both his hands on me weighs me down, pins me to the marble countertop. My eyes roll back when he applies more pressure, and I swear I see stars when I lift my leg and rest it on his shoulder.

I can barely breathe, but it's just the right amount of airflow that sets my limbs on fire, makes my eyes burn and skin tingle all over. I feel it everywhere, pulsing right until my clit is about to explode. He hits me right there, again and again until I'm choking out moans and words I don't even understand myself.

"That's it, baby. Milk my cock. Come all over me, sweetheart." I can't hold back, my orgasm rushing through me like the strongest of currents, like my heart is exploding while my abs clench, my walls trembling around his thick, veiny cock. His hands stop me from screaming, but I am soaring so high right now I can't even say my own name.

My entire body is feverish, shaky and so fucking sensitive when he changes angles and lets go of my neck. I take a deep breath, refreshing as fuck as I come down from my high when my knees are pushes against my tits, and he goes hard and deep, and so fucking slow. He thrusts a few more times before he stills, arms flexing and his groan so manly, so guttural it makes me moan and bite my lip as I watch him come, my nails dragging a path down his upper arms.

"Fuck," I breathe, letting go and sprawling out onto the counter I was just fucked on by my way-too-old-for-me hunk of a neighbor—father of my steady babysitting job. Why does life have to be so complicated?

"You're dangerous," he chuckles as he pulls out. "Such a bad girl. I think I'm gonna leave you dirty like this. Go home, go straight to bed, reeking of my cum." His voice is soft, his words so vile it gets me wet again instantly.

"Can't I stay over?" I ask carefully. He groans.

"You know you can't, baby. It's not like that."

I smile, because I do know. I'm just making a fool out of myself.

He kisses me, full of passion but less anger as he readjusts my thong. The wet fabric makes me squirm, but he smiles against my lips.

"Now, be a good girl and go home."

I nod, cupping his cock—sticky from our juices. He whimpers at my touch.

"I'll see you next week, Isabella." He says before he steps back into his designer boxers, designer pants that lay on his designer floor in his designer home.

XxX.XxX

I'm in the middle of a daydream when she's right there, hands on my desk, the gold wedding band staring at me. When I look up, I want to laugh in her face.

"So, you think just because you get killer grades you don't have to pay attention in my class, Ms. Swan?" She's intimidating as fuck—with her golden hair that's curled to perfection, the Swarovski earrings that dangle and sparkle in the overhead lighting, and the suits. Mrs. Suits has the best clothing in all of Forks High. It's always skintight and perfect, the stitching impeccable and the brands unaffordable.

"Of course not, Mrs. Cullen." I smile slyly.

"Then I wonder what's got your head in the clouds this morning," she says, stepping away. I watch her, her perky ass that spends hours in the gym. Too bad she's as tightly wound as her updo sometimes. Stuck-up prude who won't even sleep with her husband more than twice a month. I huff, thinking about the weekend I've had, about her husband's cock in my dripping cunt before he shoved it down my throat.

"You don't want to know," I reply, smiling sweetly. I shift in my seat as I watch my teacher, still feeling the ache Mr. Cullen left behind.

So, ah... Still, here?Xo