Pining For Dad's Best Friend

by Daniella Cole

  Mom hurries away and confirms for our guests that I’m a-okay as David and I start upstairs, and of course, as soon as we’re alone again, the butterflies start back up.

  “You okay?” David hooks his arm around mine.

  “Yeah. There’s already been more excitement than I thought there’d be.”

  He doesn’t reply as we make our way to the hallway with the bathroom containing the first aid kit.

  It’s right next door to my bedroom.

  What could go wrong?

  4

  David

  “Mom’s a drama queen. I think some people like the hoopla of acting like every little thing that happens is of grave importance. I think it’s how she became such an in-demand attorney.”

  “She just cares. And sometimes caring means assuming the apocalypse is right around the corner.”

  “Is that care or paranoia?” Bailey smirks over her shoulder as she opens the medicine cabinet. This bathroom is small and being in such close proximity to Bailey is not doing me any favors.

  “Probably a little bit of both,” I say. I take her by the hips and move her out of the way, making her perch on the corner of the tub. “Here, let me take care of that.”

  The tension between us is thick, and as she looks up at me from the corner of the tiny room, I can almost see the change in her. Almost. I’ll keep her at arm’s length for the rest of the party because it’s the only way for me to get through this night without having a serious fucking problem on my hands. Why the hell did Marianne think it was appropriate to have me alone with her sweet young daughter?

  Right. It was because she knows I’m probably the only man on the planet she can trust to not put my hands all over sweet little Bailey.

  “It’s really not all that bad,” Bailey says as I grab the Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet. I grab her hand and bring her over to the sink, turning on the water and testing the temperature for her. She puts it under the stream of water when I tell her it’s okay.

  “Thanks for saving me back there,” she says. I dry her hand with a disposable towel on the sink basin and put the bandaid on. My hands look massive next to hers. I fight and fight to keep my mind out of the gutter, but it’s really fucking hard. She still looks a little flushed from her fall earlier.

  “Like I said, you would have been fine without me.”

  She gives me a small smile.

  “The silver lining is that if I had to embarrass myself, it’s a good thing it was today. The only press person at this event is a woman my mom went to high school with. She probably won’t run any photos of me flailing about like a pelican.”

  “How nice of her,” I say sarcastically.

  “Oh, they’re not all bad.”

  She starts toward the door but slows when she passes me. I get a deep, intoxicating breath of her perfume as she slows. It’s fresh and rosy and so damn sexy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer or more attracted to a woman in my life. I just want to take her by the hips and pin her to the wall. I want to put her hands over her head and keep them there with my fingers curled around her pretty, delicate wrists and stamp my lips down on hers. My other hand would hike her dress up and I’d take my time, squeezing fistfuls of her creamy, perfect flesh as I make my way up her body.

  Then I’d be able to see if she was wearing any panties under this thing. She’d laugh and squeal in my arms and wiggle against me breathlessly. She’d tell me she wanted more and I’d hold her wrists a little tighter, make her beg a little harder.

  Fuck. I’m hard as a rock and I am staring at her. She breaks away from me and looks over her shoulder.

  “You okay back there?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” I snap myself out of it. “I’m good.”

  “Good. I need to get out of this dress.”

  I blow out a big breath and ruffle my hand through my hair.

  Get it the fuck together!

  5

  Bailey

  My fingers are knotting through the silky fabric of my dress. I’ve never had a guy in my room before, but then again, David is not a guy. He’s the perfect man, much better than the creeps, weirdos, and social climbers I’m used to.

  The last guy I went out on a date with asked me more questions about my dad than about me. When I tried to steer the conversation toward your more conventional first-date topics like Where’d you go to school? What’s your middle name? and Do you have any siblings? he acted defensive and secretive, as though he had something to hide. I learned later from a mutual friend that he and his brother argued over who was going to take me out. Apparently the rivalry got close to the two of them jointly inviting me over to their apartment “to see what happens.”

  Not for me.

  I look back at David as we get to my room.

  “This is me,” I say, turning away slightly and grabbing my key from my bra. I hold it up for him to see. “I like to keep my room locked during events like these. Everyone knows not to go upstairs, but I just want that extra little measure of security.”

  “I see,” David says, shifting his feet. He seems a little off all of a sudden. Maybe he’s trying to get back downstairs fast to talk to one of my mom’s single friends. I go to unlock the door, but it takes longer than it should for me to get the lock in the keyhole. I smile over at him as I fumble with it, which only makes it worse.

  “This thing —” I bump my hip against the door as I try to jimmy the key into the hole “— everything in this house is ancient!”

  I finally get the door open. Good going, me. I walk in and make a beeline to the flowers he sent me, spinning around when I get to my desk, leaning back against it and putting my hands at my sides to grip the edges. I…think I’m trying to be seductive, but I only let the act last a second. I shut it down as soon as I realize I did it by mistake, knowing that he probably hadn’t noticed anyway. And if, by some small miracle, he did, he’d deny it to avoid having to shoot me down. He’d be protective of my ego. I know he would. Maybe that’s why I feel so safe around him.

  “Thank you again for the flowers,” I say. “They smell so wonderful.”

  David is taking his sweet-ass time as he walks through my room, hands in his pockets, taking in the scene as though he’s considering what wallpaper to put up or maybe contemplating buying the place. He looks around as he walks toward the window on the wall opposite me, peering out as he pushes the curtains aside. He puts his hands on his hips, and I cannot stop my eyes from traveling down to his ass when he turns away from me. It’s firm and perfect, and I feel a swirl of heat in my belly as I imagine him on top of me, his body rising and falling over mine.

  He could do anything to me right now. He could march over, throw me on the bed, and slide what I know is a nice, thick cock right through me. I’d let him own me. In fact, I think I might demand it.

  I take a deep breath, filling my lungs to full capacity, then exhale slowly as he crosses the room.

  He looks at me expectantly.

  “Right, the dress!” I say, remembering why we’re here, and bolt for my closet. I pull out my new favorite black cocktail dress. I’m not the smallest girl in the world — my breasts are on the smaller side, but my butt is another story. It has thin straps and it’s just modest enough to be appropriate.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” I say as I shuffle past David to my en suite bathroom.

  I shut the door behind me and hang my new dress on the hook behind the door. I take a look at myself in the mirror, putting my hands down on the sink basin and leaning forward to inspect my reflection. I look flushed, disorganized. But excited, too.

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt more excited in my life.

  Okay. Operation: dress. I should have brought new panties in here with me, but it’s too late for that now. I reach around to my back to grab the zipper of my dress, but I think I go at it a little too roughly, because I can feel that something’s happened to it. Something bad. Something that’s preventing me from pulling it down any more. I feel
my face scrunch up as I try desperately to get at the zipper from another angle — maybe if I go at it over the shoulder instead of around the back it’ll make a difference — but it just isn’t budging.

  “David?” I say, opening the door a crack. I peek out into my room. He’s standing at the window, next to the flowers he sent, and he looks deep in thought. “Psst! David!”

  He turns and strides toward me, unbuttoning his gray suit jacket and tossing it onto my bed. He looks like a rebel approaching me in slow motion, a fierce bad boy in an Armani suit. To add insult to my already-injured ability to keep myself together, he unbuttons and rolls up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt to reveal faded tattoos etched over his tight, rippling forearms.

  “Everything okay?” He peeks past me and I slap his hand gently.

  “Hey, this is my private girly space,” I mock-scold.

  “You invited me, Bailey,” he rasps. “What do you need?”

  I swallow, trying to get the lump in my throat to slide down.

  “I need your help with my dress. I can’t get the zipper undone.”

  “Do you want me to come in?”

  “No,” I say, “I’ll come out. You can’t come in here. This room is off-limits to guys.”

  “You sneak a lot of guys up here?”

  He guides me out and I let out an ugly, snorting laugh. Maybe it’s so I can avoid letting on what I’m truly feeling.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Um, no. I think you’re the first quote-unquote guy I’ve ever had in here.”

  “Let’s keep it that way,” he says, with a dark edge to his voice.

  Holy crap!

  My knees feel like jelly. He guides me over to the mirror by my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, and stands behind me, carefully taking stock of the zipper situation. I peek at him through the mirror.

  “Damn, how’d you fuck this up so bad?” He cocks his head to the side and gets a little closer.

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging lightly. “I guess I was just excited to get back to the party.”

  The way he’s gently pulling the fabric is making my dress inch up and down. The dress is tight, and every little movement of his hands behind me is pushing me into a higher and higher state of absolute frustration, agitating my breasts through my bra, making every cell inside me feel electric.

  “It’s fine,” I say, reaching behind me, my belly rolling deeply when our fingers touch. “If you can’t get it, you can’t get it. Don’t fuck it up even more.”

  “Excuse me, princess,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. I catch a glimpse of his tattooed forearms in the mirror, then our eyes meet. He takes a step toward me and averts his gaze, resuming his engagement in what I know I will someday call zippergate.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  “It’s fine,” he says. “I can take it.”

  I swear I hear him growl as I feel the teeth of the zipper open and it slides undone. He finally pulls it all the way down to the small of my back, with his eyes locked on mine, until a dark glint passing over his features. “There you go. You’re good.”

  I turn around to face him, clutching my open dress to my chest. One little slip up and I could be almost naked in front of him. I’m nearly shivering with excitement.

  “Thanks.” There’s a pause. “Listen, I never really thanked you for standing up to those guys for me back there.”

  “It’s no problem,” he says.

  “You’ve had a lot of different girlfriends over the years,” I say, “and I’ve never heard you say anything about them like that. I mean, not in front of me and Mom, not in front of my dad, unless it was the kind of thing you guys discussed when you were alone.”

  “No. I don’t like talking like that. When I have a woman, I like to keep her to myself.” He clears his throat and starts toward the door. “I should go. I’ll wait in the hall for you.”

  “Wait,” I say, putting my hand out. He pauses and turns. “What if…well, what if you had…me? I know it’s silly, but what would you have said to those guys if I were yours? Would it have made a difference? Just, like, hypothetically.”

  He lets out a deep breath and turns back to me.

  “B, if you were mine, I’d never let you hear a man talk about you like that. If you were mine, they’d know better than to try it.”

  “Really?”

  “Bailey, if you were mine, I’d have you straddling me right now while I massaged your ass and sucked on your tits and then I’d ride you into the fucking ground and make you forget your own name.”

  My breath catches in my throat as his eyes flicker to mine, everything else in the entire world extinguished like a flame in an instant — and poof, the world outside this room is gone.

  Slowly he paces toward me, then puts his arm around my back to pull me close to his chest. I let out a little yelp and my fingers, as though animated by some other force, come to lie on his lower stomach, every hard inch of muscle fully articulated through his shirt. My fingers, shaking, move higher, up the front of his shirt, until my eyes are on his.

  “I’ve been going fucking crazy for you all afternoon, Bailey. If I don’t have you I think I might just go out of my fucking mind. My heart has been slamming through my chest since the moment I laid eyes on you and whenever I get a glimpse of you from across the room I feel like my heart is going to explode.”

  “I think my heart might explode, too,” I whisper.

  He takes my hand and puts it over my chest, then scoops me up with his other arm and crushes his lips down on mine.

  6

  David

  “I can’t not do this, Bailey. I don’t care if it’s wrong. I can’t take it anymore.”

  “David, please. I want you so bad. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  She moans against my lips and wraps her arms around my head, nearly dragging me to the fucking floor. It’s like she’s trying to climb my body, her sexy little figure writhing and wiggling in my arms.

  I sweep my tongue inside her mouth and it collides with hers, making our lips dance together. I angle over her mouth and consume it, grabbing fistfuls of her tight, thick peach ass as my other hand laces through her long hair.

  I feel her lips curl up and I keep kissing her, our mouths and tongues dancing together in perfect unison. My cock is pulsing against my pants, and it twitches with every little frustrated movement she makes pressed up against me.

  “Calm the fuck down, baby,” I whisper against her mouth. Her moans are the sweetest, sexiest little things I’ve ever heard. I wrap my arms around her waist and push her down to sit on the edge of her bed. “Your lips taste like fucking heaven.”

  I pull her dress down to her waist and look down at her breasts, two perfect, full teardrops inside black mesh. Her chest is heaving and her lips are parted, and as I smother her smooth stomach under my roaming hands, her breathing picks up rapidly until she’s nearly moaning from the contact.

  “I’ve been wondering all day if you had any panties on under that dress,” I groan, grabbing her dress and pulling it down. When it passes her waist, I see a pair of black panties nearly lacquered onto her. I take a deep breath, able to smell her arousal from here. “You seem like a good girl, but these leave very little to the imagination.”

  “No one was supposed to see them,” she coos sweetly, putting kisses on my cheeks, her fingers cruising through my hair.

  “Are you happy I’m seeing them?”

  “Yes, yes, David,” she moans and giggles as I put my lips on hers again. I reach around to unclasp her bra and let it fall away from her.

  “Fuck,” I groan, pulling her dress off entirely, leaving her in just this little joke of a pair of panties, the crotch already visibly soaked and sticking to her. My cock pulses as I graze my hands up her body. Her nipples are tiny, dusty rose in color, and so fucking hot — enough to make me groan as a fresh spurt of precum shoots from me. Her hands are in my hair and she holds on to m
y head for dear life as I kiss her, traveling from her chin, pausing to suck on her sweet, honeyed neck, then taking both breasts in my hands and rolling my thumbs around their pebbled peaks.

  I take one and graze my teeth against it, sliding my tongue out to swirl around it as I suck.

  “Oh my god!” she whispers in a high-pitched squeal.

  I’m somewhat, vaguely aware of how stupid this might be. I’m aware of the fact that there are twenty-some-odd people downstairs who would be majorly scandalized — her fucking father included, Jesus — if they knew what was going on twenty feet above them. But right now I don’t give a shit. There’s only one thing on my mind, and it’s Bailey.

  “Once I get my hands on you,” I growl, kissing from the top of her panties to her breasts, squeezing and rolling her nipples, “I’m never letting you go.”

  “Technically your hands are already on me, David.”

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to never let you go.”

  Her eyes widen with pure excitement and her luscious bow lips pop open. I respond by crushing my lips down on them. I’m holding myself over her with my hands on either side of her, flat on her soft bed, knowing full well that if I grind myself up against her I won’t be able to stop until I’m cumming inside her. It turns out that I have more control than I thought I did, because she shifts her hips up, her knees bent and caging my hips, and she grinds her soft pussy against my covered, hard length.

  “Oh no,” she whispers into our kiss, one arm still wrapped around my head.

  I stop kissing her briefly, the weight of having to take my lips away from hers like a speeding train slamming right into a concrete wall.

  “No,” she whispers, her hands on the sides of my face. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Fuck, Bailey,” I rasp against her ear, my fingers playing against the edge of her panties. I slide my finger down to tease between her legs and she gasps. “Is your little pussy going to cum?”