Trailer Park Daddy Read online

  Trailer Park Daddy

  A Forbidden Romance

  S.E. Law

  Copyright © 2020 by S.E. Law

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by S.E. Law

  Forbidden Fantasies

  My Fiance’s Dad

  Trailer Park Daddy

  While He Watches

  Sweet Treats

  The Man of My Dreams

  His Candy Cane

  Her Juicy Cherry

  Her Honey Pot

  Second Helpings

  Sugar Walls

  Please and Tease

  Forbidden Fruit

  Band of Brothers

  Her Italian Wedding

  The Boyfriend Diaries

  Mommy’s Ex

  Mommy’s Boss

  Mommy’s Landlord

  Daddy’s Christmas Gift

  Daddy’s Holiday Baby

  Daddy’s Love Child

  Made for Them

  Built For Them

  Sugar and Spice

  The Naughty Party

  Blackmail Fantasies

  Blackmailing My Dad’s Best Friend

  Blackmailed By My Dad’s Boss

  Blackmailed In The Boudoir

  Blackmailed By My Teacher

  Irresistible Bachelors

  Sweet as Candy

  Must Be Love

  Meant To Be

  Standalones

  You’re Mine

  Boss of My Panties

  Naughty Relations

  About My Daddies

  About Last Night

  About This Morning

  About That Evening

  Playing with Them

  Playing with the Doctors

  Playing with the Criminals

  Playing with her Priests

  Healing Hands

  Dr. Feelgood

  Dr. Man Candy

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  Contents

  About This Book

  1. Kaylee

  2. Kaylee

  3. Elliot

  4. Kaylee

  5. Elliot

  6. Kaylee

  7. Kaylee

  8. Elliot

  9. Elliot

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: My Fiance’s Dad

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Kaylee doesn’t have much money. To make ends meet, she works as a maid at Millbrook Estate, washing dishes and mopping floors. The curvy girl’s determined to make something of herself, but will she be able to escape her trailer park past?

  Elliot’s jaded. He’s been through dozens of women, and there always seems to be something missing. The billionaire’s got high standards, but maybe high standards are over-rated. Maybe it’s time to hit the trailer park for some hot, heavenly filth in the form of a sassy, curvy girl with plenty to share.

  Rags to riches? Forget that! This story is about riches to rags and the fun two people have when they decide to get dirty together. The billionaire OTT alpha male thinks he’s got it all, but Kaylee shows him there are whole new worlds of taboo fun to be had. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.

  1

  Kaylee

  Why is the road always winding?

  It seems like every fancy house I go to is at the end of a winding road. I didn’t know there were this many winding roads in the world, let alone in Millbrook, my small town in Pennsylvania.

  My little hatchback sputters as it climbs the hill to my destination. I wish more of my jobs were on level ground because this car isn’t going to last much longer if I have to keep driving up hills. And I can’t afford a new one, so it needs to survive for the next few years at least.

  I hit a preset button on the radio, trying to find something to listen to. Why is there never anything on the radio this early in the morning? You’d think 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning would be the ideal time to play good music. Aren’t there a lot of people awake right now?

  At least in my world, there are. Anyone like me who has to work as many hours as possible to keep my family afloat is awake at seven on a Saturday morning. I understand that most people have 9-to-5’s with weekends off, but unfortunately, that’s not me. When you’re a cleaning lady, you go when the client calls, and this morning, the boss wants us to be there Saturday at the crack of dawn.

  But Saturday mornings are a lot better than after school on weekdays. When I go to work on a Saturday, I know it’ll be an all-day affair, which means more money, and also a more relaxed pace. During the week, I have to rush off after school in order to get my homework done, before rushing to the next cleaning job and praying it ends before midnight.

  This isn’t exactly the life I foresaw for myself. No one wants to work as a maid the moment they turn sixteen. Instead, I wanted to focus on school and on learning new recipes, but unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards for me. My mom and I were barely scraping by two years ago, and the day I turned sixteen, I started sending out applications. I applied everywhere but most places didn’t even get back to me.

  Finally, I saw an ad for a temp agency. I talked to a representative, and she connected me with Sparkle Maids. Apparently, my experience cleaning the trailer where Mom and I live was enough for them to hire a desperate sixteen-year-old on the spot.

  Two years later, I’m still here. At the beginning of the week, I get a schedule emailed to me with my assignments for the next seven days. The email includes pertinent information like address, location, gate access codes, and dog warnings. Most of the places we clean are big and fancy, but that makes sense. People who live in small, humble trailers like me can’t usually afford a maid service.

  Today’s assignment is at Millbrook Manor. I’ve heard of it before, but never had the chance to look it up. It’s probably just another huge house with ridiculously wealthy occupants inside.

  Finally, a good song comes on the radio, and I bop my head with happiness. With one hand, I fiddle with the knob on the radio to turn up the volume, just as the GPS on my phone tells me I’m arriving at my destination. Drat. Just my luck.

  I pull into a private lane sheltered by trees on both sides. The lane continues for a really long time, until the trees clear and reveal an incredible mansion on a small hill.

  The house is even more grand that I expected. I’ve been to a lot of estates through this cleaning service, and they generally look the same. The houses are big, and they have flashy cars parked out front. But this one is different because it’s absolutely enormous. It must be four stories, with an arched portico above the main door. The place looks like it could have a hundred rooms, there are that many windows facing the circular driveway.

  Plus, the garden in front of the mansion is professionally landscaped. There’s a huge fountain in the driveway, and topiaries scattered in elegant formations throughout the yard. I’ve never seen a house like this before, at least not in real life. It feels like I’m on the set of a movie, or a scene from Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

  I know better than to park in front of the house. Instead, I pull the car to the left, around back, where sure enough, there are some parking spaces for staff.

  I’m used to this. It’s the same at every assignment I go to. There’s a special doo
r, and sometimes even special staircases, for maids to use. They don’t like us to be seen a lot of the time, and I know why. We’re the help, and we’re supposed to stay invisible.

  Then again, I wish I could live like this, if even for a day. My own home is very humble – a little too humble, come to think of it. The trailer that my mom and I live in only has one door, and it’s barely still on its hinges. My mom’s various boyfriends have slammed it a few too many times, causing the door to creak and squeal upon the slightest movement.

  But it’s not just the dilapidated state of our trailer in general. It’s the fact that my mom is a pack rat. It’s not a pretty picture, trust me. We have so little square footage to begin with, and yet Coralie manages to cram our trailer full of junk, including discarded pots and pans, fake flowers in strange, waxy colors, and newspapers and magazines from decades ago.

  I would love to have a cleaning crew to help us clear out the place, but that’s just wishful thinking. My mom is my mom, and she’s got her bad habits. Even if we did get a cleaning crew, the place would just be stacked with stuff to the ceiling after a few days. She’s that bad.

  I sigh. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with Coralie for the time being. I don’t make enough to move out, and she doesn’t work. We’re stuck together, living together in a too-tight trailer.

  But this house certainly doesn’t have that problem. As I get out of my car, I look to the back and gasp again at the view. The mansion doesn’t have a backyard; it has an entire park. There are acres upon acres of gardens that look like they belong in a magazine. The owner could probably charge people for tours, come to think of it. I’ve seen gardens like this in House Beautiful and Architectural Digest. They always remind me of a fairy tale, or some rich lady who runs arboretums for fun.

  A person jumps out of the car next to me. My best friend, Olivia, aka Olly, knocks on my passenger side window.

  “Hey, girl! Nice of you to show up.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I’m fifteen minutes early, Olly.”

  She shrugs and grins.

  “I was thirty minutes early. I had to sit in my car all this time and wait for you.”

  “That’s your fault. I offered to carpool with you…”

  “Yeah, but I have to go to my other job after this.”

  I sigh.

  “I know, Olly.”

  My friend’s so-called “other job” is babysitting her younger brother. We could easily carpool, and we have in the past, but I think Olly likes the freedom of driving her own car, even though gas is expensive.

  Personally, I wouldn’t mind splitting the cost of gas with someone. It would be one less thing for me to pay for from my meager funds.

  I get out of the car and join Olly, two other women, and our manager. There should be five of us with a job this big. But even with all-hands on deck, it’s going to take us all day given the size of this ginormous mansion.

  It’s okay though because I like the other ladies, and it’s nice to have Olly on the job with me. Sometimes we talk as we clean, and it makes the time go so much faster. Then again, sometimes we gab so much that I wonder if it’s healthy. There is such a thing as over-sharing, after all.

  But we’re used to it because we’ve been best friends since freshman year. Olly had just moved to town, and I recognized the fear on her face. Her jeans were old, and her T-shirt was clearly a hand-me-down from a well-meaning relative.

  My own outfit was similar, seeing that I’d picked it up from a tag sale a couple years back. Immediately, I walked over to Olly and introduced myself. She smiled tentatively, then her face brightened, and the rest was history. We’ve been best friends for almost four years now, and I don’t know if I could have survived high school without her.

  We haven’t had it easy. Our town and our school are quite wealthy, and Olly and I are clearly the girls from the wrong side of the tracks. But we don’t try to hide it. Why bother? Olly and I aren’t ashamed of our backgrounds. Sure, we want to get out. We want to leave our zip codes, and move somewhere nicer. But that doesn’t mean we’re ashamed. It just means we want more.

  “You good?” Olly asks, studying my face.

  “Yeah, sorry. I was just lost in thought.”

  She cocks her head at me.

  “That’s been happening a lot lately. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I was just thinking about the day we met.”

  Olly laughs.

  “It was the best day of my life. You know that my family was running from tragedy then.”

  I nod. After all, Olly, her mom, and her younger brother Jacob moved to Millbrook after her father was killed in a mining accident in West Virginia. She was on edge back then, and sometimes, I know she still feels depressed about her dad’s absence.

  “Let’s talk about something different,” Olly says fiercely. “Like this effing-feffing house! Who lives here? How can they have so much money?”

  I love that Olly refuses to swear, and her alternatives are so adorable.

  “I know. This place is huge, right? I figure it must be a rock star. Or maybe a reality TV star. I hear reality TV celebs make a lot these days.”

  Olly shakes her head.

  “Yeah, but they don’t make this much. This place must have a hundred rooms!”

  I chuckle.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking when I pulled into the driveway. What would you do with a hundred rooms?”

  Olly gets a look in her eye, and I recognize that sparkle. It means my friend is going to say something sassy and utterly ridiculous.

  “I’d do a lot, girlfriend. I’d fill it all with furniture. Then I’d dance in all the rooms naked. Then, I’d open all the windows and scream with joy, so that people know how much I love having this enormous house to myself.”

  That makes me giggle.

  “And you’re doing all of this naked?”

  My friend grins.

  “Hell yeah! That’s the beauty of having your own space! You get to walk around naked as much as you want.”

  I giggle again while shaking my head.

  “Olly, you are too much.”

  She merely shrugs and grins again.

  “Hey, a girl has to have dreams. By the way, you know the guy who lives in this house now is a descendent of Lawrence Millbrook.”

  I look at her, puzzled.

  “Who’s that?”

  Olly sighs with pretend impatience.

  “Seriously girl? Lawrence Millbrook founded our town. Remember?”

  I nod then.

  “Oh right. Sorry, history has never been my strong point. But then, this guy must be really old.”

  Olly giggles.

  “He’s a descendant, silly, so who knows how old he is? But yeah, the people who live in these houses are usually ancient. I bet he’s seventy years old and walks with a cane. Maybe he has some hot sons though,” she adds lasciviously. “You know, that’s why I’m wearing this maid’s outfit.”

  We both sigh while looking down. Most cleaning companies ask their maids to wear uniforms, but Sparkle Maids does them one better. Our uniform is almost like a Halloween costume. We have black dresses that mold to our curves. Mine is especially short and feels like it stops right below my butt cheeks. The circular-U neckline is especially daring, revealing flashes of cleavage. Plus, we have to wear frilly white aprons and white caps in our hair for “hygiene” and “convenience.” Olly and I have never understood that.

  But what’s even more unfair is that the other maids get to wear baggy, loose uniforms while ours are uncomfortably tight. I have no idea why they did this; probably because Olly and I are the only girls below fifty on the team. Oh well. At least we’re getting paid, even if smarts sometimes.

  I grab a mop and bucket, plus various cleaning supplies from the trunk of our car. Olly does the same, and we begin to lug them to the back door of the mansion.

  “Did you do that paper for Mr. Montague’s class yet?” my friend asks.

 
I shake my head. “Not yet. It’s not due until Friday, right?”

  “Yeah, but it’s good to get ahead.”

  “Not everyone loves writing papers like you do, Olly,” I say.

  She laughs.

  “I could help you, girlfriend! It’s not hard, and besides, I liked that book.”

  I shake my head and sigh.

  “Thanks, but I’ll get it done. It’ll be tough, but I’ll do it.”

  She throws me a look.

  “Are you procrastinating?”

  I shrug.

  “Maybe. You know how much I hate school. I’ve just never been the academic type.”

  My friend shoots me a sympathetic look.

  “But you’re not dumb, Kaylee. You could do so much better in school if you put in more effort. I’m only trying to help you.”

  I grimace a bit.

  “I know, and I appreciate it. Seriously, I do. I’ll try to work on the paper during study hall on Monday.”

  Olly doesn’t believe me. We both know I spend my study halls with Ms. Princer, the home economics teacher. She teaches me new recipes that she wants to try out for next semester’s cooking classes. Some of the concoctions we come up with are so good that I wish I weren’t graduating in a couple of months.

  Maybe I should bomb all my classes this semester. Then I wouldn’t have to graduate. It’s not like I’ll be doing anything with my diploma, anyway. Hell, come to think of it, maybe I’ll be a maid for the rest of my life. That’s not what I want, but right now, it seems like that’s where I’m headed.