Sweet Child of Mine

by London, Billy

  “You smell like me,” she warned.

  “Good! Why shouldn’t I?”

  “So think about the one other person you’re going to kiss good night...”

  “You realise you’ve just killed any chance of another hard-on?”

  She lifted her aching body to angle her mouth towards his cock. Nice to be assured how well-proportioned he was. She gently blew on his damp skin and was amazed when it twitched in response.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly, pulling her up the bed and on top of him. Comforted and comfortable, she felt herself drifting into sleep when a subtle beep sounded. She’d set an alarm for half ten. Her sense of organisation was costing her precious time with Liam. Lifting her head, she told him the time. “Seriously, go and wash your face.”

  He grinned and paused in the doorway. “A little while longer. Then we’ll be able to wake up together. It makes a difference.”

  “I know,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and sending him a small smile. Goodness only knew what his mother would do if she discovered Abigail was corrupting him into abandoning his daughter for the night. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up and she flopped back onto the bed.

  “Don’t get up,” he insisted as he returned from the bathroom with a towel around his waist and pulled on his clothes.

  “OCD,” she reminded him, wrapping a robe around her body.

  “You’re locking the door behind me,” he said. “Whatever makes you feel safe.”

  She followed him downstairs, unable to help feeling disappointed that he had to leave.

  “Thank you for tonight,” he said softly, gazing at her with an unreadable emotion that almost prompted her to tell him to stay. “I don’t normally put out so fast.”

  She laughed. “Me neither.” He grinned, his teeth pinching his lower lip. Leaning forward, they shared a light peck, which caught them both by surprise by how quickly it became intense. She felt movement below the belt of her robe and saw he’d unravelled it, revealing her nudity in the stark light of the corridor.

  “You have to go!” She moaned, her hands gripping the padded shoulders of his blazer.

  “We won’t be long,” he promised, unzipping his trousers and letting them fall to his ankles. He reached inside his jacket pocket for a condom and smoothed it over his rock-hard member. With a hand hooked underneath her knee, he pressed her to the wall and pushed inside her once more. They moved together in fluid unison, arc after arc of pleasure lifting them both with each punch of the other’s hips. She clasped his head to hers, kisses frantic and open while his hands were free to cup her breasts at will. He flicked her nipples with the edges of his thumbs before he moved one hand between her thighs, just above where his cock drove rapidly in and out of her drenched pussy. She came before she could even stop to enjoy the sensations swamping her. He jerked within her in random fits and starts, grunting into her mouth. The final shudder hailed his climax was complete.

  “Now I’ll go home,” he breathed.

  “You smell like me still. I mean, what was the point of the shower?” she asked as he removed the condom.

  “Getting good at this.” He smirked, launching the latex into her wicker bin. She’d at least wait until he was gone before putting it somewhere less obviously slutty. “And yes, I do smell like you. Means I’ll sleep well.” He framed her face between his palms, kissing her deeply. “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  She watched him disappear into his car before she closed her door. It took her a while to drift back to her bedroom, feeling at a loss of what to do with herself. She buried her nose in the sheets and caught a whiff of Liam’s scent. For once she skipped her pre-sleep shower to enjoy the mingled scent they’d created together. Definitely the best sex of her life. Only trouble was, he’d gone home. To make sure his child had no idea what was going on. Abigail wasn’t any good at artifice. It didn’t suit her and as young as Leila was, she wasn’t stupid. She had a bad feeling that Cornwall would be the scene of a long line of battles.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What did your boyfriend say when you said you were coming away with us?” Leila asked over the dinner table.

  Liam and Abigail both stared at her in horror. They’d barely arrived in Newquay, after a four-hour drive that had all the comforts of family. Together they’d eaten their way through strawberry laces, drunk cans of Diet Coke, and played quizzes on Liam’s iPad as entertainment. Abigail was most amused that Liam could sing along to “Best Song Ever” word for word and in tune. Between them, they’d chosen their bedrooms in the apartment with Liam and Abigail separated by a bathroom and decided to have a meal in public where they could just eat and talk. Leila had other ideas, it seemed.

  “What do you mean boyfriend?” Abigail asked slowly.

  “Don’t you have one?”

  “Leila,” Liam interrupted. “That’s none of your business.”

  His daughter widened her eyes. “I was just asking! Touchy. It wasn’t for you anyway, I was asking Abigail. Obviously.”

  “You’ve got three seconds to apologise for your attitude or you can go back to the apartment.”

  Hasty for the dinner to not dissolve into a war, Abigail held out her hands. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not.” Liam’s anger was palpable. “I thought you were behaving better.”

  Leila squirmed in her seat. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “You like testing me.” He opened his eyes and glared at Abigail. “Don’t answer that question either.”

  His directness sent a shiver of lust through her. She liked him when he was commanding. “Okay,” she said peaceably. “But that’s the joy of being a grown up. You get to do what you like.”

  Leila sucked at her virgin cocktail, a blue monstrosity in a tall glass. “Can’t wait for that.”

  “No you don’t,” they both disagreed.

  “Adulthood,” Abigail continued, “comes with a huge array of complications you don’t have at school. Trust me.”

  “Do you mean bills and mortgages and stuff?” She gave a shrug. “Mum left me a trust fund. I’m sure it’ll cover it, won’t it, Dad?”

  He looked pained. “Where is this conversation going?”

  “I’m just saying I shouldn’t be broke when I’m twenty-one. Because of Mum.”

  “One decent thing she did,” Liam muttered under his breath. Abigail’s eyes instantly went to Leila, but she was too busy rhapsodising to hear.

  “...a lot more than even Rebecca’s going to get from her parents, so yeah. Where do you live, Abigail?”

  “Edge of Teddington. Nice split-level flat. Pretty much the opposite end of Teddington to you and your dad.”

  “So you’re pretty close,” she mused. “You could come over. We’ve got a huge TV ’cause Dad’s a bit of a nerd. He’s all about superhero movies.”

  “Ah,” she said, a teasing smile on her face, “Is that what the beard is about?”

  “This beard is a thing of majesty,” he asserted, stroking the hairs on his chin imperiously.

  “He grew a moustache once,” Leila confided. “For charity. It was hideous.”

  She gazed at him for a moment. Nope. She wouldn’t have minded a moustache either. Not for a minute.

  “It wasn’t hideous. It was a manly thing to do. For charity. My business partner sponsored that I couldn’t do it. I used to be baby faced.”

  “You? Come on, who are you kidding?”

  She felt the warmth of his palm on her knee. “Without the beard, I could pass for a choirboy.”

  “The hairy chest and the voice in the lower register of big mammal give it away.”

  Leila interrupted again. “How’d you know my dad’s got a hairy chest?”

  They paused. “She’s assuming, right?” Liam said smoothly.

  “Wild guess. Normally hairy chest goes with a hairy face.”

  Leila looked between them for a moment, t
hen raised her menu. “Can I have whatever I like?”

  “Just keep your eyes towards the cheaper end of the menu,” her father directed. “Not all of us have a trust fund.”

  “I did,” Abigail admitted. “It’s how I funded most of the money for The Library.”

  “It’s an awesome place,” Leila praised. “Do you have parties?”

  Abigail lifted her eyebrow. “Are you angling for a birthday there?”

  She grinned. “Is it free? Dad, could I?”

  Liam frowned at them both. “What’s going on? What’s this tag team business?”

  “I was just asking,” Leila claimed. “And it is my birthday in November.”

  Abigail waited. It wasn’t her call, after all, even if the idea of several teenage girls running around her beloved café gave her hives.

  “Your grades at the end of term weren’t good. Get them back up to an A minus, which is what it was at the start of last year,” he said over Leila’s protest, “and I’ll talk to Abigail. See if she wants you and her friends trashing her café. Again.”

  A blush stained Leila’s peaches and cream complexion. “You’re not going to forget I did that, are you?”

  “Nope. Ready to order?” he asked Abigail.

  “Cheap end of the menu for me, too?”

  “We dragged you to the foot of this country, so dinner’s on us,” he assured her. It would have been the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss him her thanks. Liam called the waiter over and ordered for them all as Leila leaned over.

  “If you have got a boyfriend, don’t tell him my dad was here. Not that beard man is anything to worry about.”

  Abigail sighed. “When you’re older, I’m going to remind you that you said stuff like this about men with facial hair.”

  “What?”

  “I bet you any money you have at least one relationship with a man who is trying to cover his face in belly button fluff or has succeeded. One or the other.”

  The girl shrugged. “Boys are trouble. Look what happened to my mum.”

  Eek. Liam finished the waiter and turned back to the conversation. “What are we talking about?”

  “Sarah,” Abigail said softly. Leila knew now; there was no way of sugar-coating it, and the girl knew.

  “If Mum said that you’re not my dad, then it means she was seeing someone else. What? Dad, you were the one who gave me the talk. Three days. With slides and diagrams.”

  Was that why the man was so talented? Liam’s blush was visible around the beard. “If she knows, it dispels the myth.”

  “You created a website.”

  Abigail suppressed the urge to laugh at his thoroughness. “A whole website?”

  “For reference. In her own time. And it took three days because we went over several subjects.”

  “It was so embarrassing,” Leila wailed. “You can know too much.”

  “I know boys,” her father said simply. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “I’m not going near any boys! Not after Caroline Winston.”

  Abigail saw a Daily Mail story coming and shifted in her seat to hear. “What happened to Caroline Winston?”

  “Year above. She had an abortion.”

  She didn’t think about looking at Liam. She was sure he had the same expression on his face as she did. “Who?” Liam asked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

  “Caroline Winston. She’s fourteen. Everyone knows now, so her parents want to take her out of the school.”

  “I want to take you out of that school now,” he huffed. “Was she a friend of yours?”

  “No, Dad!” Leila said with exasperation. “I said she was in the year above.”

  “You’re at an all girls’ school, where would you even find boys?”

  Abigail put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Relax before you go King Kong on the world. Besides, Leila has her website in case there are things she doesn’t understand.”

  “Thank you,” came the sarcastic rejoinder. “Like I said, boys are trouble.”

  “Aren’t they just?” Abigail murmured.

  She felt the brush of Liam’s thumb over her bare skin beneath the table. “Depends on the boy.” He directed the words to Abigail, catching her gaze.

  That includes you too, sonny Jim, she thought. Hell, you’re topping the damn list.

  Chapter Twelve

  The three of them ended up on the sofa watching Avatar. Liam vocalised his active hatred for the film, but Abigail was very aware that it was Leila’s Titanic. As the film played on and they shared salted caramel popcorn together, Liam sent Abigail text messages that made her increasingly by turns incredibly aroused and ridiculously guilty.

  Leila lost her patience. “Look, if you two are going to be on your phones all night, I’m going to bed. To watch my band on YouTube.”

  “Sorry.” They both apologised and put their phones away. Half an hour later Abigail’s phone buzzed.

  Your bed. Midnight. Leave your underwear in your case.

  Her heart skipped in delight as she pretended to casually text. I wear underwear to bed!

  Leave it in the case or it’s getting ripped. Your choice.

  Abigail crossed her legs and put her phone away. She had no idea how the film ended. All her mind was focused on was Liam and how the idea of him ripping her panties only increased the dampness between her thighs.

  Leila got up. “That was amazing!” She yawned.

  “Take the bowl to the kitchen, baby,” Liam directed. “Then say good night to Abigail. She looks tired.”

  Abigail shot him a look and he started to laugh.

  “That’s a bit rude, Dad,” Leila protested from the kitchen.

  Abigail mouthed to him, “I’m not coming anywhere!”

  He smiled devilishly. “Really?” He glanced over his shoulder where Leila was washing the popcorn bowl and leaned over. Brushing his hand lightly over her linen-covered lap, he said in a low voice, “How long do you think it’d take for you to come?”

  Abigail trapped his hand between her thighs. “Depends on how thorough you are.”

  “Finished!” Leila announced. Liam withdrew his hand and leaned back, resting an arm over the back of the couch.

  “Aren’t you good?” Abigail murmured, carefully clasping her hands together.

  “Night, Abigail.”

  Liam got to his feet to hug and kiss his daughter. Abigail took the chance to escape. “Night Liam, night Lei.”

  “Ooh. I like that. Night.”

  Her room and Liam’s were separated by the bathroom and connecting doors. Midnight was in twenty minutes. Plenty of time for her to remove her makeup, shower, smooth Polynesian oil over her skin and wriggle on a nightgown. It was easy to slip in and out of. When she was starting to pace in her room, she heard the shower running, one short, sharp blast from the sink tap, before a knock sounded on her connecting door. Her sex squeezed in response. She opened the door and Liam slipped through. His hair was still wet from the shower and water sparkled on his golden skin, trickling down his chest. He closed the bathroom door and let the towel drop to her floor.

  “Good timing,” he murmured, stepping into her space.

  “This can’t be the smartest thing to do,” she whispered, avoiding his kiss. Barely allowing her away from his nude body, he turned on the air-conditioning. The machine rattled before drifting streams of cooler air into the room.

  “She’s on the far side of this place. She’s not hearing anything.”

  “Isn’t this weird?”

  He sent her a patient look. “Abi? This is what parents have to do to get laid. Be creative. Be quiet. Be quick. Or we’d never,” he laid a kiss on her collarbone, “ever,” his mouth brushed over her neck, “have sex.”

  He captured her lips in a deep kiss and Abigail forgot to argue with him, to convince him to take his towel, his musky-scented nudity and that beautiful erection pressing against her navel to his own room. Even though it had been just a matter
of hours since they’d been together intimately, she dissolved at the feel of his beard against her lips, his hands with palms full of her buttocks, his chest hair rubbing over her cleavage. Slowly, Liam peeled the nightgown to her waist. She jiggled her legs and the gown pooled at her feet. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her onto his lap. Shivers raced all over her body as, with her thighs parted by the width of his waist, the underside of his cock dragged over her, parting her pussy lips.

  Liam broke their kiss. “I left my condoms in my room.”

  Abigail leaned over to her makeup case and extracted a packet, the foil between her fingers. His eyes turned devious. “What was all that protest about if you’ve come prepared?”

  “I’ll keep saying it until you get what I’m like. OCD.”

  Liam flipped her underneath him and took the condom from her hand. She arched her neck to enjoy the trail of kisses he laid from her jaw down to her breastbone while he fitted on the latex.

  His kisses, his touch, the strokes of his fingers and the brush of his lips felt decadent, appreciative, worshipful. She reached underneath him and allowed his cock to slide over her palm before she gripped it lightly.

  “What are you doing?” he asked softly, lightly tracing her sex. She couldn’t speak once his fingers slipped inside her. Burying her face in his neck to hide her groan, she pushed against his hand, thrusting his fingers deeper. His thumb pressed against her clit, and he repeated his question. Her own fingers flexed over the length of his member. Little sighs left her mouth as finally her synapses connected to answer. “I want to touch.”

  “I’ve been desperate to do this,” he removed her hand and nudged her opening with his cock, “all damn day. You carry on playing with me and neither of us gets what we want.”

  “Hurry up then,” she challenged. He lifted his weight from her slightly.

  “Yeah?”

  She hissed, wriggling to get him deeper. “Yes.”

  A devilish light touched his jewelled eyes and he turned her again, onto her stomach. “This way you’ll keep quiet,” he murmured against her ear.

  Face buried in her pillows, she felt him lift her at the waist. Her whole body rippled with elation. With her left leg tucked to her chest, she groaned heavily as he pushed into her, inch by delicious inch. For a light-headed moment, it seemed as if he’d never stop, that there was more of him than before. He was so deep. She felt him exhale, threading his fingers through hers to anchor his weight on her firmly. He felt rough against the skin of her bottom, the cheeks trembling as he withdrew from her in gentle luxury.