My Boyfriend's Dad, page 3
Not only that, but I suspect it’s Jasper’s insecurity that drove him to cheat. After all, Lucy is the real thing with a gentle laugh and intelligent ways. I’ve seen Celine, the French girl he cheated with, and while she’s pretty, she doesn’t hold a candle to Lucy. Celine is all flash and no substance, but my son just doesn’t realize it yet. Not that Jasper’s much of a deep thinker. Right now, his insecurities are choking him, and he’s just trying to survive.
I take another sip of whiskey, appreciating the subtle burn down the back of my throat. No one warned me that this single parent shit would be so difficult. My ex-wife and I divorced about ten years ago, and while I love being a father, it’s certainly had its ups and downs. One of the ups, though, has been Lucy coming into our lives.
But will I ever see her again? The situation is a little charged, seeing that she just broke up with my son. Now, it’s even more tangled because she just witnessed my romp in the hay with the escort.
As the whiskey settles into my stomach, my thoughts drift to the curvaceous young lady who slipped into my home earlier today. My attraction to Lucy doesn’t mean anything, even if it’s a bit taboo. I certainly don’t entertain any possibilities of having a relationship with her because why would she be interested in an old coot like me? Sure, I’m handsome and rich, but let’s face it: I’m her boyfriend’s father. She’s probably got her eye on the hot jock at school, and not the older man who happens to be his dad.
Every now and then, though, I can’t resist some mild fantasizing. As my eyes close, I imagine what it would be like to be with Lucy. I picture the curvy girl in bed with me, instead of Patricia. Lucy’s slowly taking off her clothes, revealing her delicious assets, her creamy pale skin flushing with shyness. I would be gentle with her, not rushing anything, just enjoying her until she’s ready.
My vivid fantasy is interrupted by the opening of the front door. I open one eye to see Jasper, red-faced and sweaty, coming inside with his tennis bag slung over one shoulder.
“Welcome home,” I call from the kitchen. Jasper responds with a grunt but doesn’t say anything intelligible. Either practice didn’t go well or he’s in one of his moods.
He slouches into the kitchen to refill his water bottle. “How was practice?” I ask.
“Fine,” he responds without looking at me. I roll my eyes heavenward. Definitely a mood, given his mono-syllabic response.
Before my son stomps upstairs, though, he looks back at me. “What are you doing home so early?”
Getting spied on by your ex-girlfriend, I think. Well, I’ll keep that information to myself.
“I had a long week,” I say, gesturing to my now-empty glass. “So I wrapped things up and headed home as quickly as I could.”
Jasper eyes my glass and the bottle of whiskey. “Can I have some of that?”
I snort. “Did you turn twenty-one without me noticing?”
He sighs. “Never mind. I’ve just had a long week, too.”
I nod knowingly. I’ve never cheated on anyone, girlfriend or wife, but I can imagine that it does a number on your conscience afterward. Unfortunately, I don’t have much sympathy for my son in this situation either. It was a conscious, idiotic choice he made, but I can tell that Jasper’s down. I wish I could help and am honestly not quite sure how.
“Come sit and chat with me for a minute,” I say, “and maybe I’ll pour a finger or two for you.”
My son offers a halfhearted grin at that and, setting his bag down, pulls up another chair at the kitchen table and perches gingerly. Immediately, he puts his head in his hands.
“I feel like shit,” he confesses without my prompting. I had a feeling he needed someone to listen to him vent, so I shut up and pour the alcohol. “I feel horrible for what I did to Lucy, but I really like Celine, too. I just wish I didn’t have to choose.”
“Don’t tell me you’re considering polyamory,” I drawl, and he rolls his eyes.
“Celine is just so sexy,” he sighs.
“You don’t think Lucy is, too?” I ask, phrasing it carefully as to not inform him that I think she is. My son frowns.
“No, she is,” he says. “I’m really attracted to her too, and I miss her so much. Celine is just…” He looks suddenly embarrassed, as if he just remembered that he’s talking to his dad and not a friend. “Just more, well, adventurous.”
I quirk a brow while trying not to smile into my whiskey glass. Jasper is such a typical teenage boy and clearly, he can’t get off the idea of anal.
“‘Adventurous’ isn’t the only quality in a partner you should be looking for,” I say in a mild tone.
Jasper shakes his head as I watch a cloud pass over his expression. “I know, I know. Whatever. I actually don’t really want to talk about it. Keep the whiskey.”
As he stands up, his gaze lands on the cardboard box at the end of the table. “What’s that?” he asks.
“For you, actually,” I say, as he starts to dig through it. “I think Lucy dropped off some of your stuff.”
He whirls to look at me. “Did you see her? Was she okay?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t see her,” I lie. “Sorry.”
Jasper takes the box in his arms and starts to head upstairs.
“You know,” I call, “you probably have some stuff of hers too, right? You should take it to her, since she was courteous enough to bring yours around.”
He shrugs, continuing to ascend the stairs. “Nah, it’s fine. Lucy didn’t leave anything important. Later Pops.”
Of course, my son abandoned his tennis bag in the middle of the floor for me to trip over. Go figure.
I sigh and finish my second glass, eyeing the living room from my vantage point in the kitchen. The space is luxurious, with white leather couches and magnificent artwork on the walls. But right now, I’m consumed with an issue far more important. How do I see Lucy Church again? After all, the curvy girl saw something she wasn’t supposed to, and now I need to confront her about it.
4
Brandon
* * *
It’s an unorthodox way to spend a Sunday afternoon, I’ll admit, but returning my son’s ex-girlfriend’s belongings isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had. Jasper made it clear that he wasn’t going to do it, so I took matters into my own hands. After our conversation, I marched up to my son’s bedroom and began packing a box of Lucy’s belongings myself.
“What are you doing?” Jasper gasped, hair still dripping from his shower.
“Getting Lucy’s stuff back to her,” I say nonchalantly, like nothing’s wrong. “Is that bear yours or hers?”
Jasper pouts.
“It’s mine,” he says, seizing the teddy possessively. Then he pitches it onto the bed before managing to locate a pair of flip flops, a sweatshirt, and a hairbrush with long brown strands in it. Good thing there wasn’t anything like a thong or a bra-and-panty set.
Now, I’ve pulled up to the Church home, the box perched on the passenger’s seat of my car. I’ve never been to Lucy’s house, although Jasper, of course, has been many times. He said that her family is a nice, quiet, middle-class one, and their house looks it. It’s a mid-size ranch, with a white picket fence and tulips of various hues bordering the hedges. A large oak tree with a knot at its base presides over the property, and I hear birds twittering in its branches as I get out of my vehicle.
I walk up to the Church’s front door, the box in my arms. My motives are impure, but then again, I’ve never been a “nice guy,” as they like to call them.
I ring the bell and half expect Lucy’s mom or dad to answer the door, but instead, it’s the curvy girl herself. She looks absolutely gorgeous in a cute yellow top and a pair of shorts that bring attention to her thick thighs and hips. Her curly brown hair is loose around her shoulders, and her face is slightly puffy, as if she’s been napping. From the look on her face, she’s startled to see me.
“Brandon?” she gasps, her brows furrowed. Then, as if remembering the last time we saw each other, she suddenly blushes a deep crimson that spreads all the way down to her decolletage. “Um, hi,” she says awkwardly, hugging her arms around herself. The girl can barely meet my gaze and I chuckle deep in my chest.
“Hey Lucy,” I growl. “Jasper packed up some of your things and I thought I’d bring them by. Can I come in?”
Her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s trying desperately to think about what to do next. “Um, I can just take the box, if you want, Mr. Walsh,” she stammers.
I grin. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if that’s okay.”
Her blush deepens even further, as if she senses what’s on my mind.
“Okay,” she whispers, and flees into the house.
I step into her home and close the door behind me. The living room has plush carpeting, worn leather furniture, and a plethora of family photos on the wall. I know that Lucy is an only child, like Jasper, and am tickled to see so many photos of her as a youngster. One picture right beside the front door shows Lucy, at maybe four years old, in a pink dress and matching Mary Janes, a giant sparkly bow in her dark hair. I chuckle upon seeing it.
“What?” the curvy girl asks. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, looking extremely nervous.
I gesture at the photo. “I like this look,” I say. “Very retro. Is that jazz hands that you’re doing?”
She smiles the tiniest bit. “My mom thought she was quite the fashionista when she dressed me,” she says, unconsciously smoothing the front of her shirt in a nervous gesture. “I’m glad she’s not still in charge of my outfits, and yes, it is jazz hands. I wasn’t even being photographed for a dance class, but the photographer had some very specific ideas on how to pose.”
I chuckle.
“We put Jasper in some pretty heinous outfits too, back in the day,” I say. “But I’m sure it’s worse when you’re a girl.”
Then, I offer Lucy the box, and she takes it. Our fingers brush against each other and she jumps as if she’s been electrocuted. I smile because to be honest, I felt it too. The touch of her skin against mine was a pure shot of adrenaline, but I maintain my calm.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks politely, still looking nervous, but I shake my head.
“I’m good, thank you,” I say while sitting down in a leather armchair. She hesitates, and then takes a spot on the couch across from me.
“Were you looking for Midge and Frank?” she asks belatedly. “My parents aren’t home, but they’ll be back in maybe an hour.”
The Churches are perfectly lovely folks whom I’ve met a few times. We get along great, but no, they’re not who I’m here to see.
“I’m good,” I say. “I’m only going to stay for a minute or two, I promise. I just wanted to talk to you about what you saw when you came to my house earlier this week.”
I thought that her blush couldn’t get any brighter, but Lucy flushes a deep red, nearly to the tips of her ears. It’s cute to be honest, but she looks like she’s having trouble swallowing.
“What I saw?” she manages, her eyes bigger than I’ve ever seen them—even when they were peeking through the crack in my bedroom door. “I didn’t, well I didn’t see anything, I swear…”
It strikes me how attractive she looks now, even with an expression of half-guilt, half-embarrassment on her soft features. Maybe she realizes that I’m not going to back off, because suddenly, she looks down, her head bowed.
“It’s okay, Lucy,” I reassure her in a deep voice. “There’s no need to pretend. I know you saw me making love to a woman.”
She looks up then, and I realize there’s something else in her expression.
Arousal.
Immediately, my cock starts to stiffen in my pants, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Shit. I’m obviously attracted to Lucy, but I’m not sure if she’s attracted to me as well. Yes, we’ve shared plenty of long glances, but that doesn’t mean anything. I half-expected that she thought of me as another father figure, but clearly, her arousal indicates otherwise. In fact, circumstances are completely different now. Lucy’s an adult woman, free of a relationship with my idiot son, and free of any other romantic relationships too, as far as I know. We’re sitting alone in her living room, discussing a very intimate subject.
She mutters a few words, and then licks her lips before looking away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still avoiding my gaze. “It’s just that—”
I cut her off.
“No, it’s fine, honey. No need to apologize. You had no idea what you were going to see, and in fact, I should be the one apologizing.”
Then, I stand up, cross the room, and sit beside her on the couch. Her proximity is utterly intoxicating; I can smell a light, floral shampoo, and my cock stiffens even more. A million alarm bells are going off in my head, but I ignore them.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say, and take her hand. “What you saw happens between consenting adults all the time. But I want you to know,” I continue, “that the woman you saw isn’t someone I’m dating. She’s someone I paid.”
Lucy’s chin jerks up and she looks at me, her lips parted. Then the girl blinks rapidly, her lashes fluttering. I can imagine that no one has ever discussed sex work with her out loud, and to do it with your ex’s dad is a particularly bizarre scenario.
“Oh,” she stammers, swallowing hard. “That’s… Um…” Her brows crease over her gorgeous dark eyes. “I’m sorry, but why are you telling me this?”
I don’t know what I’m going to say next. I don’t even know exactly why I’m imparting this information. I’m just going with my gut, and my gut tells me to be open and honest with this woman.
“Because,” I say finally, “I wanted you to know that that the woman you saw doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t have feelings for her, nor a connection with her. I don’t care about her like I do about you, Lucy.”
The words are out before I can stop them, and I don’t regret a single syllable. It’s sudden, yes, but there’s no way I misinterpreted that look in her eye. The curvy girl wants me, and I need to make it clear that I’m single and available.
She looks at me from beneath her lashes, and her pink lips part a bit. They glisten slightly in the low light and before I can stop myself, I take her chin in my hand and seize her lips with my own.
Jesus. Her mouth is even softer than I imagined, even more plush, even sweeter. I feel her stiffen, and she starts to say something, but then, as I hoped and prayed, Lucy relaxes into the kiss. I slip my tongue past her lips and the softest moan eases its way from her mouth into mine.
“Brandon,” she murmurs, pulling away just enough for me to see her dark eyes blaze with desire.
She’s hooked, and so am I.
Our kisses become more insistent, and more desperate. I bring my arms around her and slip my hands under her shirt, moving them against the warm skin of her back. She moans in response; her hands are on the sides of my face, her fingers curling themselves into my hair. My heart is pounding, but I feel hers stuttering too against my chest, as I pull her even closer. This is it, I remind myself with incredible satisfaction. This is really fucking happening. Even if it doesn’t go any further than this, it’s an experience I intend to make the most of.
Which is why I’m both shocked and elated when she murmurs, “Do you want to go to my room? My parents won’t be back for at least an hour or two.”
Holy shit. Her parents. That should stop me right there, but instead, I merely nod.
“Yes baby. Let’s go to your room.”
She smiles and takes my hand, tugging me down the hallway and into her bedroom. I would look around, but her lips are already back on mine, her arms draped over my shoulders. I gently push her backwards until she tumbles onto her bed. Then, I ravage her mouth, devouring the beautiful girl.
But I have to remember that Lucy’s inexperienced. Yes, she’s eighteen but she’s never been with a real man before, and I’m an alpha male who takes his responsibilities seriously. With that in mind, I slowly move my hand to one of her enormous breasts, over her shirt. She hums a little in approval, and encouraged, I massage the big tit, and then the other, with my fingers.
When she moans, I whisper, “How about we take your top off?”
I sit up a little when she nods, and after she removes her little yellow tee, I inhale deeply. Lucy’s not wearing a bra, and her big creamy breasts are magnificent. They’re enormous Double Ds with hard pink tips and I can’t resist. Immediately, I press my lips to a stiff crest and then dance my tongue around the nipple until she’s moaning loudly.
“Oooh Brandon,” she exhales. “Oh yes!”
I continue exploring her body with my hands and mouth, marveling at the warmth of her skin and the sheer, silken texture of her thighs. I haven’t been with an eighteen-year-old since I was in my twenties, and her skin is so creamy that it’s almost difficult to believe. “You’re gorgeous, Lucy,” I whisper while gently tugging off her shorts so that she’s clad only in a tiny pair of purple panties.
“You think?” she blushes, her hands going to cover her pussy.
But I push them away.
“Yes, absolutely baby girl. And this belongs to me, so there’s no need to be embarrassed. Let me see, sweetheart.”
In response, she giggles and removes her hands. Good, there’s a wet patch right at the center of her panties, and I lean forward to run my tongue over the damp circle.
“Oooh!” she moans again, arching her back. “That feels good!”
“I’ll make you feel even better, honey. Don’t you worry.”
Then, I cast off my clothes in seconds, and hook my thumbs in the sides of her panties. Slowly, I peel them off her legs and stop to take in the magnificence that is Lucy Church.
