Weekend With Your Daddy : 1

I really, truly do not know how I end up on his front porch in a short black dress and thigh-highs in the middle of January.

Despite the late hour, he’s awake. My breath catches in my throat as the door opens to reveal him. Shane. The man who, up until a few days ago, was supposed to be my father-in-law.

He fills the doorway, a large man with broad shoulders, and big hands. Shane frowns as recognition slips over his handsome face. “Ivy? What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk.” I have to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering from the cold.

Shane doesn’t make me wait. He moves out of the way and holds the door open so I can walk past him.

“What did he do?”

I blink, confused. “Excuse me?”

“My asshole son. What’s he done now?” He catches my hand and lifts it between us. My ring finger is empty. Shane skates his thumb across the bare skin, still frowning.

“Shane.” I say his name slowly. In all the time I dated Max, his son, I called him Mr. Alby. A necessary distance between us, a reminder of what he was to me... my boyfriend’s father.

I rip down that distance now and stare up at him, letting him see the pent up emotions I’ve spent two long years ignoring and denying. Shane’s dark eyes go wide and then hot before he shutters his response, almost as if he can’t resist. “Tell me what happened.”

“We’re over.” My voice catches, and I hate that it catches. “There's no going back. Really, really over.”

He nods slowly and then gives my hand a squeeze. “Sounds like you could use a drink.”

“I could use about ten, but one’s a good place to start.”

At least he isn’t kicking me out. That’s a good sign, right? I follow him to the kitchen and watch as he opens the liquor cabinet and picks through the bottles.

He barely glances at me. “Vodka, right?”

“Yes.” Of course he remembers my drink. I bet, if pressed, he also remembers my birthday and a whole host of other details that slip past most people, including my ex, his son.

He finishes with the drinks and I gather what’s left of my courage and close the distance between us, sliding between him and the counter to reach for the glass. Just like that, he’s at my back, his hips against my ass.

“Thank you,” I say over my shoulder.

He inhales sharply, but doesn’t move back. “What are you doing, Ivy?”

His lack of retreat gives me a little more strength. Just enough to sip the drink and then turn slowly to face him.

I tip my chin up. “I have a question.”

“Ask it.”

“Last summer, you and Max were supposed to be working, so I was here at the pool.” I can barely catch my breath. “No one was around so I didn’t bother with a suit.”

“Mmm.” The barely banked heat in his gaze is back, flaring hotter by the second. He still hasn’t moved, either to press against me or to retreat. “That’s not a question.”

I lick my lips. “It felt wicked to be out there naked, knowing I was in your house even if you weren’t here. I…” This part’s harder, but his nearness gives me a boost of confidence. “I started touching myself. I felt like such a little slut, but that made it hotter.”

He’s breathing harder now, and he reaches around me to grasp the counter on either side of my hips. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s not anything you don’t already know,” I whisper. “You were upstairs. I saw you watch me through the master window.”

I reach behind me to the counter just inside his hands. The move arches my back and puts my breasts almost within touching distance of his chest.

“I didn’t know you were there when I started, but once I knew you were watching me, I took my time and dragged it out. I wanted you to watch."

He exhales harshly. “You don’t know what you saw.”

“Okay.” I’m shaking like a leaf. “My mistake.

Shane still doesn’t move away. “Even if I came home for lunch unexpectedly that day, you were dating my son.” He shifts forward the barest amount, closing in on me.

“It would be fucked up if I stood in my master bedroom while you fingered that pretty little pussy. I’d be a monster to have watched the entire thing and fucked my hand while I pretended it was you.”

“Shane,” I say his name like a secret, just between us. “I’m not dating your son right now.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He shakes his head slowly. “You came here with a purpose, but you don’t get to throw yourself at me without sharing the truth. Out with it, Ivy. What did Max do?”

I really, really don’t want to talk about it, but I find myself answering without having any intention of doing so. “He slept with his secretary. I think he wanted me to catch him. Either that, or he’s just really shitty as hiding it when he’s up to no good.”

Except that’s not the full truth, but admitting that I think he’s been cheating on me for months and months feels lke admitting that I’m a fool.

He curses softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

I lift myself onto the counter, putting us at nearly the same height. The move has my skirt rising dangerously, flashing my thighs. Shane looks down and goes still. We both hold our breath as he shifts one hand to bracket my thigh.

“Ivy.” This time, when he says my name, he sounds different. Almost angry. “If I push up your skirt, am I going to find your bare pussy?”

The words lash me and I can’t help shivering. I lick my lips again. “If you want to find out, I won’t stop you.”

“Dirty girl.” He snaps the garter, the sting making me jump. “You came here for revenge.”

There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”

“I’d have to be a selfish asshole to take advantage of you when you’re like this.”

But he’s looking at me in the way I’ve always fantasized about, like he has a thousand things he wants to do to my body and hasn’t decided where he wants to start.

“It’s what we both want, isn’t it?” I ask. When he doesn’t immediately answer, I press. “Why not do it?”

He moves his hand to my hip and grips the fabric of my dress, pulling it tight against my body. “I could think of a few reasons. You were going to marry my son.”

I can’t quite catch my breath. “I’m not going to now. not anymore."

“You’re young enough to be my daughter.”

I watch the dress inch up my legs with every pull of his hand, baring more and more of me. The sight makes me giddy. It’s the only excuse for what slips out in response.

“Should I call you Daddy, then?”

“Is that what you want, Ivy?” He presses two fingers to my bottom lip and I open for him. “You want to call me Daddy while I do filthy things to you that you’ve only fantasized about.”

He leans down and holds my gaze as his fingers stroke my tongue.

“You want to call me Daddy while I slip my hand up your skirt and find out what you have waiting for me? While I bend you over this counter and eat your pussy until you come? You want to ride Daddy’s cock?”