Page 53 of Nanny for the Firefighters

The manor comes into view, its grand silhouette a comforting sight. I park in the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires. As I step out, the rain has softened to a light drizzle, more a mist than anything else. I take a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs. This place has become my refuge.

Inside, the manor is quiet, the kind of deep, comforting silence that blankets everything. I tiptoe through the hallways, careful not to disturb Lily. Her room is at the end of the corridor, the door slightly ajar. I peek in to see her sleeping soundly, her small form bundled under the blankets. Relief washes over me. Despite the chaos of the night, she's safe.

I make my way to the study, where Marcus is almost always found at this hour. The door is half-open, and I see him hunched over his desk, surrounded by papers and the soft glow of his desk lamp. He's engrossed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Marcus," I call softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looks up, a smile breaking across his face as he sees me. "Ella, you're back." His eyes scan me, concern flashing as he takes in my tired expression.

I nod, stepping into the room. "It's been a long night."

He stands, crossing the room to me. "I can see that. Come on, let's get you something to eat." He places a hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward the kitchen. The warmth of his touch is reassuring, a reminder that there's still normalcy in this world.

The kitchen is dimly lit, a soft glow emanating from under the cabinets. Marcus moves with practiced ease, opening the fridge and pulling out ingredients. I lean against the counter, watching him. The simple act of fixing a meal feels like an anchor, grounding me after the storm.

He sets to work, sautéing garlic and onions in olive oil, the aroma filling the room. "I thought you might like some pasta," he says, his voice warm and low.

"That sounds perfect," I reply, grateful for his intuition. I watch as he adds diced tomatoes and fresh basil, the simple ingredients transforming into something delicious under his skilled hands.

As the sauce simmers, Marcus opens a bottle of red wine, pouring us each a glass. "Here, this will help you relax."

I take the glass, the rich aroma of the wine mingling with the scents from the stove. I can't let Marcus know what really happened tonight. He can't know about my secret life, the danger I put myself in. It would only worry him, and he doesn't need that burden.

We sit at the kitchen table, the soft clink of cutlery and the warmth of the meal creating a bubble of peace. The pasta is perfect, the sauce rich and flavorful. We talk about trivial things—his work, Lily's latest antics, plans for the weekend. It's a welcome distraction, and I find myself relaxing, the tension slowly ebbing away.

Marcus watches me with a gentle smile, his eyes soft in the dim light. "You look exhausted, Ella. You need to take better care of yourself."

"I know," I say, smiling back. "It's just been a long week."

He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. "You do so much for us, Ella. You deserve to be taken care of, too."

His touch sends a warmth through me, a comfort I didn't know I needed. "Thank you, Marcus. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He stands, moving to my side of the table. "Why don't we make tonight about you for a change?" His voice is low, seductive, as he leans in closer.

My heart skips a beat, a different kind of thrill running through me. I look up at him, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe. "Marcus…"

He lifts me gently from the chair, his hands firm yet tender on my waist. "Let me take care of you, Ella."

I let him lead me down the hallway, the dim light casting shadows that dance along the walls. My mind races, but this time it's not with fear or adrenaline—it's with anticipation. In the bedroom, Marcus turns to me, his hands cupping my face. "You're safe here, Ella. With me."

I nod, unable to speak as he lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is soft at first, a promise of what's to come. I melt into him, the world outside forgotten.

He leads me to the bed, his hands insistent in the best possible way. As we sink into the soft sheets, the night's troubles fade away. Our clothes come off, and then he's kissing my chest, tasting my nipples, making me groan and wish for more.

Marcus's tongue knows its mission well. He circles the tips of my nipples before gliding it down my stomach. My response is immediate. "Oh… oh, God."

I only realize his intention when my first climax is on the brink. That's how good he is. A quick tug gets my underwear out of the way as his tongue circles around. My hips respond of their own volition, rising into his tongue, trying to shift so it will slip inside me. With a gruff laugh, he pins my impatient body to the bed and gives me one long lick, dragging his tongue from the bottom of my pussy lips to my clit. He holds on for a second before flicking it.

With a low moan, I release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. He's off again, running his tongue down to my inner thigh so I can feel the long build up. His hands hold me firmly in place. My muscles begin tensing.

Just then, he blows a puff of air on my cunt. "This is what I've been wanting all evening." He laughs.

"Please…"

"Please what, Ella?"

"Please fuck me."