uppercut - eleven
summary: Pedro goes down on Maisy
parings: boxer/singledad!pedro x nanny!fem oc
warnings: twelve-year age gap, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, the soft!dom is soft!doming, Pedro is extremely soft and sweet as always, fem!mc is inexperienced and a bit clueless, use of pet names (sweetheart, flower, sweet girl, babygirl(!!)), aftercare
wc: 4.8k
series masterlist here
a/n: happy valentine's day angels, this is my gift to you, happy reading </3
Maisy
I wake to the shape of him dressing in the grey of the room. I didn't hear his alarm. I'm about to greet him but I stop myself. I want to see how he wakes me, because I'm irrational and self-absorbed like that. I'm curious about whether he kisses me, says my name, or shakes my arm.
"Maisy," he coos softly.
I lamely feign waking up, and open my eyes to see him perched on the edge of the bed, gazing down at me.
"Hey," his voice is all morning rasp, deep and scratchy. I rub my feet together under the sheets.
He flashes a brilliant smile and I know today's going to be a great day. "I gotta head out soon. I'm gonna wake Oliver. Can you be downstairs in like tenish?"
I tug the duvet under my chin, "Mhm."
He nods and his eyes take me in languidly. "Are you...feeling okay?"
My cheeks flush at his solicitous inquiry. "Yes, a little sore... but yes."
"Good."
He opens his mouth to say something else but never does.
He stands and jabs a thumb in the general direction of his son's nursery. "I'll wake him now."
The day ensues casually. I spend the forenoon tidying. There are so many things Pedro needs help with around the house and I know he didn't hire me as a cleaning lady, but I don't want to ignore them. Even though he's for sure going to be annoyed I pick up the slack. I vacuum the entire house, mop the kitchen and do a load of laundry during which process I may or may not give one of his used T-shirts a deep inhale.
Following lunch, I decide to take Oliver out for a stimulating walk and get ourselves ice cream. Post-walk, he's too cute and clingy and I'm too overcome with parental greediness so we crash on the couch.
×××
Pedro
I get home loaded down with bags of groceries for our Mexican-themed dinner and right as I step through the door, I notice how clean and tidy the space is. Across the hall, I hear the tumble dryer going, so she must’ve done the laundry, and all of Oliver’s toys that were scattered across every corner of the house just this morning have been put away.
She’s helping out wherever she can even though it’s not her responsibility.
I remember staunchly why I need to stop having fantasies about my son’s nanny.
She is the first good one I’ve ever had, and I’d be damned if I messed it up because my cock seems to react every time she does something nice for me or Oliver.
Okay, so maybe I am kidding myself with that. It isn’t just when she treats Oliver like her own, or when she does something around the house that she really doesn’t have to, or when she makes my life easier by doing what — in her words — is the bare minimum of a babysitter.
It is that she is otherworldy gorgeous.
Every small, ridiculous thing about her turns me on.
I need a cold, hard reality slap.
I need to stop fantasizing about my nanny.
No matter the strenuous jump-roping session I did after post-training that left me gasping for air and wincing against my ribs, the pain didn’t last.
As soon as I was on my way home, all my thoughts drifted to Maisy.
And at my core, a voice is telling me no amount of masturbation could help.
Which is a real fucking problem.
I shake the thoughts from my head, doing my damndest not to think too hard about her as I kick off my shoes and move further into the house, scooping out the rooms in hopes of finding my son or his unfairly beautiful nanny with a voice I can't get out of my head as it mewls my name.
I drop off the groceries in the kitchen and turn into the living room. At first, it appears empty but as I look over the backboard of the couch, Masiy cuddling my boy comes into view.
My heart thuds out of sync for many beats. I knead at the spot.
Rick made me do accessory work on my pectorals, that must be the reason for the soreness, I reason.
Roused by my ogling, Maisy stirs then blinks a few times as her vision clears and she reaclimates. When she sees me, a slow smile spreads across her plush, naturally cherry lips.
They are kissable lips, a voice says in my head.
I shoo it away. Inappropriate.
Instead, I focus on my boy. "Did you have a great nap, Buddy?" I ask, leaning over the couch and tickling Oliver’s belly.
Maisy sits up, propping my son on his knees.
My boy is all bed-head and dried drool from his nap. "Daddy," he mumbles, reaching for me.
I pick him up, and his little arms instantly go around my neck. My heart thuds with affection, and I cover his cheeks with kisses and he wiggles in my grasp, giggling.
"Sorry. I know I shouldn't have let him nap on the couch with me. But he was extra cuddly today and fell asleep on me while we watched a video of vegetables dancing and—," Maisy rambles.
The corners of my mouth quirks up in a small but fond smile. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself," I tell her reassuringly. "I trust your judgment with him."
She nods, her eyes flitting around me, her fingers fidgeting with her droplet necklace.
"I gotta take a quick shower, but we can get started on dinner after?"
"Sound great," she agrees, standing.
I let Oliver down. "I'll be right there with you."
She saunters into the kitchen, my son crawling after her.
He's still not quite walking but he can make a couple of steps on his own before losing balance. I try not to sweat over his slow but steady progress. He'll get there.
After a cold shower in the downstairs bathroom – and against my better judgement –, I wrap a towel around my waist and spy on the two of them for an idle moment.
Oliver sits on her hip as Maisy puts away the groceries. She announces each item she stores away, teaching him the names of vegetables and fruits. I should go back to my room and put some clothes on, but I just want to be around them.
Eventually though, a few more self-indulgent moments later I begrudgingly tear my eyes away from them and get dressed.
I put on some worn jeans and tug a crumpled white t-shirt on while descending the stairs. My bare feet make soft padding sounds as I walk into the kitchen. "Ready, chef?" I ask jokingly.
Maisy puts me right to work. I'm on prep duty, peeling, chopping, dicing anything she puts right in front of me. It's all awfully domestic. Oliver perches in his high chair, supervising us as he devours his less gourmet dinner of mashed potatoes and hard-boiled egg. There's music playing and Maisy sways her hips as she blows on the ladle and holds it out to me to taste.
"Careful, it's hot," she warns, gauging my reaction as I let the sauce dissolve on my tongue. "More salt? Five more minutes?"
"Five more minutes. Seasoning is spot on."
I’m wiping Oliver’s face clean with a damp cloth when I hear a hiss and a quiet Fuck coming from Maisy.
My eyes cut to her as she tosses the knife into the sink, and lifts a finger to her mouth.
"You okay there?" I ask, and I can hear the alarm in my voice. I'm not slick at all.
"I’m fine, just cut myself." She sounds fine but there’s a pleading ring to her voice—which I might make up in my head, but I don’t care. I want to take care of her.
Sitting Oliver on my forearm, I reach for her wrist, rotating her hand to inspect the damage, which is limited.
"Really, I’m fine," she says, avoiding my gaze as she pulls her wrist out of my hold and brings her finger back up to her mouth to stem the light trickle of blood.
I grab the makeshift first-aid kit I store under the sink and rifle through the contents, looking for the correct Band-Aid size.
“Let me,” I coax.
She lets out a heavy sigh, "Okay."
"Good girl," the title slips before I could stop myself. If she catches the insinuation, she doesn’t acknowledge it.
My hand wraps around her wrist again, guiding her finger from her mouth.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” I say, assessing the inconsequential cut.
“That’s what I told you,” she replies. I feel her intense, searching gaze on my face as I pull the Band-Aid from its wrapper, and place it with meticulous care.
"Maisy hurt?" Oliver pouts.
She laughs lightly, petting his head with her uninjured hand. "It’s just a little cut. I’m okay, it doesn’t even hurt," she assures my son.
I work against the giddy smile that’s tugging on my lips.
I wrap the sticky ends together and delicately kiss the area where her cut is. “There.”
She shudders at the contact. “Thank you,” she whispers and turns away to resume work.
Before we sit down to eat, I tuck Oliver in for the night. When I return, a rosy-cheeked Maisy and a margarita is waiting on me. Even without the alcohol in my system, I feel warm and uninhibited.
Dinner is languid. We discuss how we prefer our hard-boiled eggs. We express our fears of growing old. We recall our first day as high schoolers, the number of our locker and the code combination.
Slightly tipsy, we get up to dance. Maisy is bashful at first but reassured by my awkward dance moves, lets herself loose. We do some consensual rubbing and grinding, the air between us charged. I'm nosing at her neck as we rock side to side, her back to my front, when George Michel's Father Figure comes on shuffle. It's a song I haven't heard in a while, and the lyrics sober me.
I break into a nervous sweat. We separate, I grab my phone and skip the song.
"You good?" she asks, her skin glistening.
"Yeah, yeah. It's just—, it's getting late and I have a session early tomorrow."
"Yeah, of course, you're right," she mumbles, but her face falls in disappointment, making me feel like the worst possible human.
I stack and carry our plates to the sink. I grip onto the edge of the kitchen counter and close my eyes. I feel her lingering presence. I blow out the air in my lungs, open my eyes and face her.
She's leaning against the counter, mirroring me, one of her hands toying with the hem of her sundress. "Thank you for tonight. I had fun."
A smile breaks across my face. "I enjoyed myself too," I say quietly.
Her eyes sparkle at my words and she perks up. She licks her plump lips, her throat bobbing with a swallow. I trace the movement.
"I—, I really want to kiss you right now," she divulges.
Heat rushes down, and my dick hardens with desire in my jeans.
"Can I kiss you?"
When she is this polite, who am I to resist the temptation?
It's like I'm a hormonal teenage boy. Lust overrides my consciousness. But I can't even pretend I'm not in way over my head. So, I chose to ignore it all and just live in whatever moment is right in front of me. Apparently, that is the opportunity to be kissed by Maisy.
Surging forward, I bend to meet her waiting mouth in an urgent kiss.
She melts into the kiss after a lag of surprise, her hands floating up to settle on either side of my jaw. Her touch is still tentative, even after the multiple orgasms I've given her, she's still too self-conscious to fully let her desires control her.
There's a different energy to her when it comes to intimacy. In normal day-to-day situations, she's opinionated, sure of herself and her values, but in bedroom-type situations, she's timid, coy.
I find it extremely sweet.
I know it's partly because of her inexperience but I think she likes to hand over the control. And I'm okay bearing the responsibilities.
I don't care to be particularly composed as I dole out my affection, the twisting of our tongues messy and clumsy with how badly I want to put my mouth all over her. I comb my fingers through her silky hair as her tongue meets mine. My hands roam down her sides, then loop around her waist to press her back into the counter.
Trailing my mouth down, I smear my kisses over the curve of her chin, the line of her jaw, then all the way down the column of her throat. She shivers, her hands pushing up into my hair.
I bend at the knees slightly, my palms cupping the backs of her thighs. "Hop," I murmur and I hoist her onto the kitchen island. Our lips disconnect for just a split second before she's chasing after me, grasping me by the nape of my neck.
I pry myself between her legs, her dress riding up but still concealing her as my hips slot between her plush thighs.
The way she kisses is needy, careless, unfettered. It turns me even more feral.
One of my hands moves up to cup the side of her neck, the other holds her by the ribcage. She wraps her legs around my middle, and her ankles cross, making the bulge in my jeans press against the heat of her. We both gasp at the contact.
I pull kiss after kiss from her until we're breathless and clamouring.
When she breaks for air, I reach behind to untangle her ankles. She mewls in protest but I don't backtrack. I'm on a mission to finally lick into her.
Giving her a placating kiss, I drop to my knees in front of her, feeling my pulse thrumming as I gaze up at her from this new position. Her hair is frizzy from my fingers running through it, and her chest heaves as she catches her breath through kiss-swollen lips.
She tugs at my hair, looking at me questioningly, but I don't make any move to get up, I stay right where I am. "Don't worry, flower, I'll take care of you."
My hands smooth over the length of her thighs, the fabric of her dress catching on my wrists as it pools around her hips. I grip her by the hips and pull her towards me so that she sits on the edge of the countertop, and hike her legs over my shoulders.
She yelps, choking on air.
In this position, I'm face to face with her heat, covered by a pair of blush pink thongs. There's a big wet patch on the gusset. She's completely soaked through. My erection twitches painfully in my pants, but I show some restraint.
Planting my mouth in a suctioning kiss on the flesh of her inner thigh, I start a new expedition.
As I pluck my teeth against the soft skin goosebumps raise on her skin, and she cries out my name."Pedro, w-we can take this to my bedroom, an—" she rushes, breathless.
I shake my head before she can finish. "Quit it," I bark lowly, her scent drugging me. "We're going to stay right here, sweetheart."
I drag my lips over her thighs, never fully parting from the flesh before I press another languid kiss to her skin.
"Oh God, oh God," she whimpers between gasps.
The closer I get to the apex of her thighs, the more unreal her scent is. I want to bury myself in her.
So I do.
I nose at where her clit is nestled away out of my sight, and she lets out the most angelic cry.
My fingertips tease the waistband of her underwear. "How was that? Did you like it when I nudged your aching little clit, baby girl?" I probe, peering up at her. Her cheeks are red, and her brows glisten with sweat.
"Mhump," she purrs. "Do it again, please?"
I lower my head and inhale deeply, her intoxicating smell filling my lungs. In response, she crumbles; she falls back onto her forearm.
I hook my thumbs under the string on her hips. "I gotta taste you. Been thinking about it all week, pretty girl." I tell her, trying to tame the keen edge in my voice. "Will you let me?"
A look of hesitation flashes behind her eyes, and her legs tremble (and not in the uncontrollable, post-coital way I would prefer, but in a nervous tick). Noting her uneasy, I reign in my desperation.
"You're nervous," I state.
She chews on her bottom lip. "I am," she says meekly.
I drop back onto my heels, and run my hands up and down the length of her thighs comfortingly before pressing a tender kiss onto each of her kneecaps. "If you want to stop or this is something you're not ready for, tell me. But you don't have to be nervous with me."
"Yes, I know," she speaks in a hushed tone, pouting. "I think what's making me nervous is that I'd never let a man touch me down there before you, let alone put his mouth on me so intimately."
"I'm aware of that," I say, my thumbs kneading at her.
"When you kissed me there—, I–I was overpowered with a rush of butterflies. I didn't know how to behave myself, it scared me."
"But they were a good kind of butterflies, yes?" She nods. "Well, you can always just tug on my hair. If anything that lets me know you're enjoying what I'm doing. How about you do that when you feel those butterflies?" I offer, sponging kisses to her kneecap.
She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. "Okay," she breathes softly.
"Now will you let me put my mouth on you?"
The slow but certain nod she gives is the permission I need before I'm finally shucking her underwear down her legs and unceremoniously stuffing them in my back pocket. A blissful sigh leaves me as I take in the glistening folds of the most beautiful cunt I've ever seen.
"Jesus, Maisy," I choke out in admiration. "How are you real? You're fucking stunning." There's a patch of downy hair above the cleft. Dark pinkish-purple folds gleam with her arousal. "God, you're fucking perfect."
"Thank you," she says softly.
Settling as comfortably as I can on my knees, I close that small, teasing distance, and plant my lips directly onto her clit. Her hips buck.
Another testing kiss and she stops breathing, her legs quaking around my head. I tsk. "Nah-ah. You need to spread your legs wider, sweetheart." I rasp and after a shuddering sigh, she obliges, parting those thick thighs even wider to give me access to the dark, wet heart of her.
I reward her with a long, slow swipe of my tongue across her leaking slit.
"Ohmygod," she slurs, thrusting her hips forward to chase after the sensation.
My lips lift in an impish smirk. She makes a keening noise, and the sound unlocks a deep well of joy inside me I'd never known existed.
Peering up at her, I push another budding kiss to her clit, this time watching the look on her face. Her eyes attempt to close, lashes kissing her cheekbones, with her mouth dropping into a small gape, and a pinch appearing between her brows.
After planting a slew of kisses on her clit, feeling her pulse jump against him, I slide my arms around to the backs of her thighs. My palms cuff the soft skin, fingertips denting into the gentle curve as I push her towards my face, angling her hips just so.
The scent of her lures me in and I scarcely hear her say my name as I move forward. I bend my head and feast from her. My tongue dips into the heart of her, tasting the wet as it oozes from within her, and my lips seal around her clit to suck, suck, suck until her legs tremble and she has to grip the edge of the countertop to cope.
I give her no mercy, and she doesn't ask me for any. She surrenders to my savage intentions so sweetly, it lights me on fire.
Clutching the dense swell of her ass in my hands, I haul her closer to my mouth.
The flat of my tongue slides through her slit over and over, collecting her wetness and revelling in the heady taste that was her before swallowing. I can feel her toes curl behind my back, her heels pressing into my spine to urge me into giving more. I smile around my ministrations as I zigzag my tongue over her pussy before turning my focus back on her clit.
Kissing at the bud, I speak as best I can without lifting my mouth from her.
"Y'taste so good, flower."
Her hands find my head, the tips of her fingers winding through my hair. "You—you're incredible. This—oh, God—is incredible."
Spurred on by her stuttered praise, I surge forward, replacing my lips with my tongue now laving over her clit. It's swollen between my lips as I give placating sucks to the bud, drawing the softest mewls from Maisy.
Diving down from her clit, I follow the split of her spread folds until I'm tonguing at her opening. Her wetness has spread to the inside of her thighs, my cheeks, and now the tip of my nose as I wag the flat of my tongue over her arousal-coated folds.
I jut my chin against her and thrust my tongue straight inside her pussy. She moans up to the ceiling. Her fluttering walls clench around me, welcoming me in.
I wriggle my tongue inside her, tracing along the ridges and curves. Her hands in my hair come alive then, tugging at the roots. Drilling my tongue inside her, I draw her higher and higher until her whimpers and gasps are obscenely lewd.
My cheeks are squished by her warm thighs, chin soaked in her slick and nose mushed against her clit.
I could do this all night, but I have a feeling Maisy's expiration is coming soon.
The telltale sign comes in the scrunch of her nose and her fluttering eyes.
"Gonna cum for me, baby girl?" I mouth against her clit, feeling her muscles bunch at the feeling of my voice vibrating around her.
A small whine crawls its way out of her throat as she nods, her mouth in nothing more than a gape.
"Want you to cum on my face," I croon, "Let me have it, sweetheart."
All it takes is a lingering suck of her clit before she's crumbling above me. My name leaves her mouth as if in prayer. Her back arches from the counter, pushing her hips that much closer to my face. Twitching with each pulsation that grips her, she holds me trapped against her, tossing her head in the throes of ecstasy.
I don't stop, feeling her clit pulsing between my lips. A cry dies in her throat when I move one hand from her ass to between her thighs to join my tongue inside her.
I drive a finger inside her snug cunt while sucking her clit between my lips. Her hands in my hair are shocked into a tight, unwavering grip, and heels dig into my back.
"Again," I demand against the inside of her thigh before curling another finger into that tight heat and flicking her swollen, throbbing clit with my tongue. "Give me one more."
She cries out then, louder and louder.
This time, when she orgasms, I fuck her even harder through it, fingers pressing into the front wall of her pussy, punishing a soft spot that makes her wail and ride my face without one iota of shame.
And if I don't I almost cream myself.
I carry her away for several long minutes, lapping her slower and slower until she grows too sensitive.
When she climbs down from her high, I'm still kissing her sloppy, swollen folds.
"Too much, too much," she whimpers, pushing my face away from her.
Drawing away, I look up at her. A slow, private smile spreads across her face. My heart gives a warm thump. Seeing her unwound for me...
Hell. I could easily get used to this. But it was only sex... right? Two consenting adults enjoying each other's bodies.
Easing her thighs from my shoulder, I move up her body to kiss those sweet lips. "You did good, so good, baby girl."
I fix her dress despite there being no reason to hide after what we just did, smoothing the fabric over her hips in a grounding touch. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I start her towards her bedroom.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
With her eyes hooded and movements lethargic, I guide her upstairs. Flicking on the light in her room, I deposite her on the edge of her bed. I watch with an affectionate smile as she flops back into the mattress, arms falling above her head as she stretches out.
I leave her to her quiet soothing and step into her bathroom.
Just as I thought, my cock is still impossibly hard in my pants, hiding a drenched spot on the front of my briefs where I've been leaking blurts of precum while tasting the very same girl who nannies my son and is the daughter of my coach.
I adjust myself and rid of the thought.
I find a small cloth under the sink cabinet, wet it and walk back to her. Her eyes open lazily, and her cherry lips slit into a small, intimate smile. Her feet dangle from the edge of the bed, and I kneel.
"Is it alright if I push up your dress again, sweetheart?" I ask, voice a low croon in the quiet of her bedroom. "Just gonna clean you."
"Okay," she mumbles, lifting her hips some as I push up the hem.
She wordlessly spreads her thighs and I make quick work of wiping up her arousal that dripped to the inside of her thighs. When I touch her clit, hoping it would be so fast she wouldn't notice, I earn a small hiss, her legs recoiling to close around my hand.
"Too much," she reminds me, a pout evident in her voice.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I murmur, compounding my words with a kiss to the cuff of her knee.
A strong urge to take proper care of her grips me. I do the whole boyfriend experience; I get her a clean pair of underwear—a quick rummage around her underwear drawer reveals a lacy black thong that I make her wear—, and her sleep shirt from under her pillow, even going as far as draping the duvet over her and pressing a kiss into her hairline, which is beyond overkill.
I close the door behind me and the realization clangs through me; I'm catching feelings.
Maisy
I wake in the middle of the night, totally placated.
I get up to use the bathroom, and as I sit on the toilet, flashes of Pedro between my thighs sizzle across my mind.
My cheeks and neck flame up at the memory of what he'd done.
There was no hesitancy, no politeness in the way he kissed, licked, sucked. I felt totally out of control, and what's more, I wanted to be out of control.
And when he added his fingers... my mind felt like it went straight through a shredder and into a kaleidoscope.
When I came two consecutive times, I was left floating, drifting in a current of Pedro. He was still licking me, except more slowly, as if with no purpose but to savour me.
And then he rose over me, and kissed me, unconcerned with where his mouth had been just seconds earlier. I dimly wondered in that moment if I should be put off by that, but I was still violently twitching with pleasure, contracting with aftershocks that I couldn't make myself care.
He then proceeded to support me up the stairs, took care of my mess and dressed me for bed. I was half-asleep when he kissed my hairline, and I remember sinking into a sense of security that my brain linked to Pedro.
Pedro is big into aftercare.; without fail, he always makes sure I'm comfortable after we've been intimate, but last night felt significant, especially since he went down on me for the first time and I was in such a woundable state. He might consider aftercare as part of our arrangement, but thinking about it, I get a high emotional charge.
I know that he isn't playing any mind games on me because he's equally considerate and kind to me when we aren't making out, but still, I can't help but wonder how he would treat me if I were his—his girl, for real.
At the thought of there being an us, an emergency alarm goes off in my brain. I'm getting way ahead of myself. I'm starting to think our deal could turn into something more which is stupid and foolish and just all around messy what with our age gap and his close relationship to my dad.
I flush, and wash my hands.
Staring into my reflection, my inner voice asks, I won't be able to be remotely normal about Pedro and our arrangement going forward, will I?
"No, I definitely won’t, " I speak aloud.
I climb back into my bed and make myself as small as possible under the covers.
