Author Next Door: A Single Dad Romance

by Casey, Nicole

  I backed my ass up into him, rotating my hips to grind hard. “Do it,” I told him, voice equally as low and almost unrecognizable in my own ears.

  Chuck pressed into me, member hot and wonderfully thick. He filled me up to the point of breaking, hitting me again and again in just the right spot. I was so turned on by the whole situation that I could feel my clit pulsing with need, angrily swollen from lack of attention as Chuck rammed into me. He clasped a large hand over my mouth to keep me from making noises, which only turned me on even more. Never in my life had I felt this devilishly naughty. He thrust his cock into me harshly, like I was just a little plaything that he was intent on ruining. My whole body felt like it was on fire, the threat of climax gripping me tight.

  “Chuck,” I moaned, panting urgently. “I’m going to cum. Chuck, please, I’m–”

  In an act of defiance, Chuck stopped moving in an instant. He snaked his arms around me and pinned my hands to my chest. He licked a stripe up the length of my neck and hummed. “You’re not going to cum until I say so,” he warned.

  “Oh my God,” I whimpered.

  He snapped his hips into me once, damn near knocking the air right out of my lungs. “Have you been good?” he teased. “You want this cock in you that bad?”

  “Oh, Chuck, yes. I’ve been so good, please.”

  “Do you deserve to cum? Tell me how much you want me.”

  I writhed beneath his weight, grinding against him in an attempt to get myself off. But Chuck remained sure, strong, remorseless in the way he held back. “Please, Chuck,” I whined. “Please fuck me. Fuck me hard. I can’t wait anymore. I just want you. I’ve been so good.”

  “You have to promise me one thing.”

  “What? I’ll do anything.”

  “You have to stay quiet.”

  I nodded slowly, unsure if my voice would betray just how ruined he made me feel.

  That was when Chuck started up again, snapping his hips against me as his thick cock slid in and out of my pussy at a rapid pace. It took all of my strength not to be loud, but an occasional gasp would escape my lips as Chuck had his way with me. The electric spark deep inside my gut grew in intensity, spreading warmth throughout my stomach and chest. My heart was racing in my ear, blood rushing throughout my system in a frenzied hurry. I was dangerously close, being filled to the point of overflowing. Chuck and I came at the exact same time, shuddering against one another. He held onto me tight like I was an anchor, his thrusts suddenly becoming frantic and falling out of rhythm. He filled me full of his seed, wetness beneath my legs undeniable.

  We stood there for a moment, blissed out of our minds and too busy drowning in our own euphoria to realize how much time had passed. When Chuck’s wristwatch beeped to signal it had been twenty minutes, he pulled out quickly and shoved himself unceremoniously back into his pants. “I have to check on the students,” he said gruffly.

  “I’ll go to the washroom and freshen up,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I guess you’re exempt from the writing warm up.”

  I grinned and said, “I sincerely hope so.”

  Before turning to part, Chuck brushed a few loose strands of my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. He dipped his head down and kissed me gingerly, smiling into the kiss. “Don’t take too long,” he whispered. “I don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “No. But I don’t want anyone claiming favoritism.”

  I threw him a cheeky wink. “You’d better get back, then. I’ll be there in five.”

  Chuck kissed me again, slower this time. He didn’t seem concerned that time was a pressing issue. “Hurry back,” he hummed. “We’re going to be going over perspective shifts.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I giggled.

  10

  Chuck

  Mornings were always a little hectic for me. I woke up around five in the morning to try and get a little work done on my next book, have a cup or two of coffee, and then prepare breakfast for Clarissa before I had to drop her off at daycare. Clarissa was a bit of a picky eater, so sometimes it was hit or miss when it came to breakfast time. She loved sugary sweet cereals and hated eating fresh fruits. I didn’t want to blame Sandy for Clarissa’s pickiness, but there was no denying she picked it up from her mother. Sandy rarely disciplined our daughter, didn’t stand firm when it came to important decisions. Sandy always allowed Clarissa to do whatever she wanted. I’d luckily taught Clarissa a bit more self-restraint and respect, but some mornings –like this one– were still difficult.

  Clarissa folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “I want pancakes,” she demanded.

  “You’re going to be late, baby,” I reasoned. “There isn’t any time to make pancakes.”

  “But I want pancakes!” she said again, getting louder. It was only a matter of time before she was shrieking and waking up the neighbors.

  “How about I make you pancakes for dinner tonight?” I bargained. “You always like breakfast for dinner, right? You can have a whole plateful when you get back from daycare.”

  My daughter brought her thumb and forefinger to her chin and stroked it. I wasn’t sure where she’d learned to do that, but it was heartwarmingly adorable. Clarissa looked to the side and pressed her lips together, frowning deeply to give off the impression of deep thought. “Okay,” she said. “But only if I can have strawberry sauce, too.”

  I chuckled and nodded. This was as good of a compromise as I was going to get. “Okay, baby. I promise. I’ll even go out and buy strawberry sauce for you.”

  Clarissa clapped her hands together. “Yay!”

  “Now, please finish your oatmeal and put on a fresh shirt.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  I sighed in relief as Clarissa finally took a bite out of breakfast. She was a sweet little thing, but a real handful at times. I sat across from her at the table and took another sip of my coffee, pouring over my notebook full of plot ideas. My project was coming along, albeit slowly. But progress, no matter how small, was still progress. I’d been so caught up in whether or not my next book was going to be a success or not that I’d unintentionally paralyzed my own creativity. If it hadn’t been for Lara and her constant encouragement and positive outlook, I didn’t know where I would have been.

  Things between me and Lara were going great. I’d actually been planning a little weekend getaway for the two of us, but our schedules kept conflicting with one another. With her college classes taking up most of her weekdays and her part-time job at Ramen Books taking up her evenings and weekends, it was difficult to find the time to steal her away. I was sure that with a bit more planning, we’d find the time to spend together. If I had to wait a couple more weeks before she had a day off, I was more than happy to do so. We were in a good place and I really didn’t feel the need to rush into anything. Lara herself seemed perfectly content with how things were doing, and that was more than perfect for me.

  I was just about to finish off my cup when my cellphone dinged on the table, vibrating twice to alert me that I had a new text message. Upon seeing who the message was from, I frowned.

  “What is it, Daddy?” Clarissa asked.

  “Nothing, baby. Wipe your mouth, please.”

  I picked up my phone and checked the text.

  [Sandy] Can we talk?

  The device dinged again. And then again.

  [Sandy] It’s urgent.

  [Sandy] I really need to talk to you, Chucky.

  I sighed in frustration. I really didn’t feel like being dragged into a conversation my ex-wife. Only God knew how long that was going to take, and since Clarissa was already running late, I really didn’t want to chance it. But Sandy wasn’t the type of woman to be kept waiting. Just mere seconds later, my phone started to blow up, playing the familiar ring tune of an oncoming call. I had half a mind to ignore it, but Clarissa looked up at me in confusion.

  “Aren’t you going to answer?”

&
nbsp; I let out a heavy exhale and nodded. I picked up the phone and pressed it to my ear. “What do you want?”

  “Oh, Chucky,” Sandy sobbed. She sounded genuinely distressed. “Everything’s been awful, and I don’t know who to turn to.”

  I frowned. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “It’s Carl, he–” She sniffled. “He broke up with me.”

  A number of emotions hit me in quick succession. At first, I felt vindication. Sandy had cheated on me with Carl and effectively ruined what little remained of our already fracturing marriage. A part of me felt like she deserved what was happening to her. Karma was a bitch, after all. But then I felt guilty for feeling that way. Nobody deserved to have their heart broken. Even though Sandy had hurt me, I’d never wish the same kind of heartache on anyone else. And then I was genuinely concerned. Sandy and I had a lot of history. Somewhere, deep down in the pits of my subconscious, I still cared for her. She was the mother of my child, a woman I’d known for many years. Just because we weren’t on great terms, didn’t mean I felt nothing. I wasn’t some heartless bastard who could just turn his back on someone he’d once loved with all his heart.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I admitted, speaking the truth.

  “I have nowhere to go,” she sobbed. “I’m freaking out, Chucky. What if my career comes to a screeching halt? What if he goes around and badmouths me to different publishers? I don’t think I could take that kind of a hit.”

  “Carl wouldn’t do that. He’s not that kind of–” I stopped myself midsentence. I didn’t think he was the kind of guy who’d have an affair with my wife, but look where we were now. “Don’t worry,” I said. “You’ll figure something out.”

  “I’m sorry for the way I acted at the party. You were right. I shouldn’t have said any of those things.”

  “Forget about it, Sandy. I know I have.”

  “Do you… Do you think we could maybe get a coffee?” she asked.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Sandy immediately broke out into a wail, crying so loudly that Clarissa could hear her over the phone.

  “What’s wrong with Mommy?” she asked, face curling up in concern.

  “Go get changed, baby,” I told her. “Mommy’s just having a hard time right now.”

  “Can you tell Mommy I love her? I’ll give her a big hug when I see her.”

  “I’ll do that, baby. Now, get going.”

  Sandy let out a shaky breath. “Was that Clarissa?”

  “Yes. She told me to tell you she loves you.”

  “She’s such a good girl. She gets that from you.”

  “I have to get going. I’m very busy.”

  “Please, wait!”

  “What?” I grumbled, harsher than I intended. The stress was really starting to get to me.

  “Can’t you spare five minutes to meet up with me?” she begged. “Please, Chucky. I really need to see you. I know you probably won’t ever forgive me, but I could really use a friend right now. I don’t even have a place to stay. The hotel I was staying at was booked under Carl’s name, and my book sales have been declining and I can barely afford a plane ticket back home without maxing out my credit cards. I just want to talk, Chucky. Please?”

  I could have easily just hung up the phone, but I knew that would have been a dick move. Sandy always seemed to know how to push my buttons, to say the right thing to have me feeling guilty enough to do as she asked. “Fine,” I grumbled. “We’ll grab a coffee and chat for a couple of minutes. Nothing more.”

  “Right. Of course. I totally understand. Thank you, Chucky. You’re a good man.”

  “Mhm,” I mumbled, not entirely convinced. “I’ll see you later.”

  11

  Lara

  I was walking down the street headed toward Ramen Books, mind still swirling from my two morning lectures. I’d learned a lot that day about H.P. Lovecraft and the uncharted territory of speculative fiction. There were so many endless possibilities when fiction wasn’t grounded in reality. Literally anything and everything could be subject material for a new story, but only the adventurous and truly creative could come up with worlds and creatures never before thought up by humanity. I had a significant number of books I’d been assigned by my professor, so I was admittedly feeling a little swamped with homework, but I was eager to get to my part-time job regardless. The sooner I got to work, the sooner I’d earn a little money. And the sooner I saved up a bit of money, the sooner I could consider taking Chuck out for a fancy dinner. Things were a little limited on my student budget, but I felt like Chuck was well worth the time and effort. Maybe we could even take Clarissa along and enjoy an entire evening out together.

  My route from campus to the bookstore took me right past a local café, La Éclair Chocolat. I’d never been inside, mainly because a coffee cost four bucks and I didn’t have that kind of money to just throw around. It was a fancier spot, with potted plants hanging from the windows and an expensive-looking red brick exterior. All of the café tables and chairs appeared to be handmade, mimicking the style of Parisian bistros, what with their curling metalwork and intricate floral designs worked right into the frames. Every time I passed by the café, I noted the buttery scent of freshly baked croissants and the sweet smell of icing sugar on little fruit cakes. Small tarts and warm breads were always on display in the window, tempting onlookers like me off the street and inside where snooty baristas could somehow mispronounce my name. I could always tell a café was on the higher end of fancy by the level of which they garbled it.

  But today, it wasn’t the pastries that caught my eye. As I passed by the café’s street-facing window, I happened to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. I could only see him in profile, but I could recognize the slant of his nose and the height of his cheeks and the fullness of his lips anywhere. He was sitting across from someone at a far corner table, but I wasn’t entirely sure who. I approached the window carefully, leaning against the brick wall to remain out of view as much as possible. It was when I noticed the woman’s bright red hair that a bitter disappointment gripped at my heart and made my stomach sink into the pits of my gut.

  Chuck and Sandy were talking, smiling, laughing. I obviously couldn’t make out what they were saying, and I wasn’t an expert lip reader. Curiosity took hold of my thoughts. What were they talking about? Why were they meeting up? Why did they look so damn happy? What on Earth was going on? There was an unbearable sting in my chest, a twinge of jealousy leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I thought Chuck and I had something special. I thought that, just maybe, he was falling for me like I was falling for him. An irrational fear settled in my very bones. I didn’t know what else to think. Was he getting back with his ex-wife? What was going to happen to me, to us? Why couldn’t I fight back the nasty thoughts of Sandy clawing her perfectly manicured nails into Chuck’s back and never let go?

  There was a voice screaming in my head, yelling at me to go inside and confront Sandy. What did she think she was doing? She had her chance with Chuck and she’d majorly messed up. I felt like she was encroaching on my territory, taking Chuck who was once hers and hogging him all to herself. But I knew better than to burst in and make wild accusations. I didn’t have a confrontational bone in my body. There was no way I could go up against someone like her. Sandy was beautiful, smart, and she knew Chuck in ways I’d only began to discover. She had the advantage here, and I didn’t think I had a shot in hell of winning Chuck’s affections if Sandy was the one I was contending with.

  I hurried past the café and practically sprinted to get to the bookstore. I ran so hard that my lungs burned, and the back of my throat was scratchy and dry. My eyes were stinging, the corners of my vision blurring as tears started to well up along the edges of my eyelids. I brushed right past the few customers who were browsing through the new releases and right past Alistair, not stopping until I was safely behind the employee bathroom door. I turned the faucet on and splashed some cold water on
my face, willing myself to take normal breaths and try to concentrate. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe this was one giant misunderstanding. But I simply couldn’t explain why Chuck would agree to meet with Sandy and appear as though he were actually enjoying her company.

  Unsure of what else to do, I pulled out my cellphone from the back pocket of my jeans and called Hannah.

  “Hello?” she greeted on the second dial tone.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “What happened?” she asked, immediately concerned. Hannah was really good at picking up on subtle emotional cues. “Lara, what’s wrong?”

  “Do you remember that guy I was talking to you about?”

  “It’s kind of hard to forget a name like Charles Hill. Why? Did that bastard do something to you? I swear to God, I’ll fly home right now and kick his ass if he–”

  “No, Hannah, it’s nothing like that. Well, actually, I don’t know.”

  “What? You’re not making any sense.”

  “I saw him and his ex-wife, Sandy Hill.”

  “The Sandy Hill?”

  “You know her?”

  “And you don’t? She’s only the biggest name in the horror genre. Right under Stephen King, of course. I didn’t know they were married, I just thought it was a coincidence they had the same last name. It’s kind of common. Like Hank Hill.”

  “From King of the Hill?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Anyways,” I stressed, “I saw them together.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know. You should have seen them. It was like he forgot all about me.”

  “I’m sure you’re just reading into things, Lara.”

  “I just– How long has this been going on, you know? I don’t know if this is the first time they’ve met up, or if this has been going on behind my back since the start.”

  “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

  “Well, no, but I–”

  “Girl, you can’t jump to conclusions like that. I’m sure he has a perfectly reasonable explanation. When are you supposed to see him next?”