Dark Daddy Valentine

by Tilly Pope

  “You like bringing strangers home to your bed?”

  Her pupils dilate, then shrink as her eyes dance back and forth between mine. One eyebrow slightly lifts. “Maybe.” It’s less of a whisper this time and more like a breath. A shiver trickles down my back and she stays locked on me like we’re the only two people in the world.

  I walk my fingers up her hand toward her elbow and she lowers her gaze to watch my fingers move. Her skin is warm under the robe and I wonder how she manages to be so sexy like this. She’s holding herself like royalty even though something in me whispers she’s anything but.

  “You know…” I trail off and her gaze darts to my face. “You shouldn’t be such a bad girl.” I meet her stare head on and she exhales.

  Without another word, I back off and grab her glass. “Another?” I ask.

  “I better not,” she whispers, running both hands up her arms like she’s chilled—or turned on. “I really like them, though. Thank you.”

  “Do you feel any better?” I ask, remembering the whole reason she’s here in the first place, as well as my own reservations about the kind of girl she is.

  She’s definitely not my type. She came in her to bitch about the noise. Or did she?

  Fuck. I’m getting so many mixed signals I can’t quite pinpoint who she is.

  “I do. I still wish I’d found a hot construction worker, though.” She giggles.

  The giggle cuts me to the bone. Is she serious? The thought of her taking home Jon kills me and I grit my teeth. “You know,” I grind out the words with effort, “I can train that out of you.”

  “Train it out of me?” She seems stunned by my choice of words. But I know what I said and I meant every word.

  I nod and wash out her glass. Filling it with water, I hand it back. “You’re dehydrated. Get some water in your system to help the hangover.”

  She peers up at me, a slight curve to her lovely lips. “Isn’t that what the Bloody Mary was for? To fix the hangover?”

  “The alcohol will make you feel better for a little while. But the dehydration is what makes you feel awful. So hydrate while the alcohol is in your system.” She blinks and drinks the whole glass of water in one long swallow. She lowers it to the bar with a thump and I refill it.

  “You’re going to make me have to pee.” She giggles.

  I gesture with a chuckle. “Bathroom is to down the hall to the right.” I shove more water toward her. “Need Advil? For your head?”

  She shakes her head. “Okay, you said train it out of me?” Her lips mouth the words like she’s rolling them around, tasting them, trying to figure out how they make her feel. “Like a dog?” Her eyes meet mine, curious, wide and trusting and something in me wants to watch that wide, curious glance turn to a knowing one. I want her to understand me. But it might be too soon. I also don’t want to scare her away.

  “Not like a dog. You’re not a dog.” I watch her finish her water and wait a few moments. I’ll refill it, but not just yet. First, I want to watch her as she absorbs my words and meaning.

  “So what am I, then?” she asks, her eyes still locked on me.

  I reach out and gently take her chin in my hand. Peering deep into her blue eyes, I feel the tug at the corner of my lips. “What are you? Or what do I want you to be?”

  “Both.” Her lips drag my attention to them and I enjoy the way she swallows hard. There’s something so vulnerable and innocent to her. Something I want to crush. I want to take that innocence and twist it into something sexy and wanton. Something we both find enjoyment in.

  “You’re a bad girl that needs some direction. I want you to be my…oh, I don’t know…my pet? My kitten.” I gently squeeze her chin before letting her go and refilling the glass with water.

  She says nothing and I wonder if I pushed too far. Is it too much? Too fast? I should give her more time. Ease her into things rather than just throw her off the deep end.

  “Would you… take care of me? Like a pet?”

  I turn to face her and see the questions and heat in her eyes. “In every way imaginable,” I promise in a low voice that makes her shiver. Pushing the water toward her, I watch her pick it up and down the whole thing in several swallows. “Oh, you are a good girl,” I growl and a tiny, sexy sound escapes her throat.

  The scent of her hits my nose and my cock throbs painfully. Damn it, I want this girl. I want her bad and I want her now. Grinding my teeth together, I remind myself I need to move slower.

  I’m a patient man.

  Most of the time.

  But with her… it’s hard to be patient.

  Very hard.

  “Are you hungry?”

  As I ask, her stomach lets out a pitiful growl. Without waiting for an answer, I open the bar fridge and pull out a cheese tray. Placing it before her, I smile as she thanks me with big, round eyes.

  “May I offer you another drink?”

  Her eyes meet mine. “You’re… asking me?”

  “I’m asking. It’s your call. This time.” If she wants more, I’m full steam ahead. But that’s up to her.

  “Sure, I’d like that.” Her eyes lock on mine and I give the barest hint of a nod. I make her a quick drink. She’s quick to try it and smiles. “It’s so good.” Fruity and rich, it’ll compliment the cheese beautifully.

  “I also have wine.” A good dark red would go well with the cheese.

  “Honestly?” she asks, as if warning me she’s about to give her unpopular opinion, “I really liked the Bloody Mary. But this is good too!” Her eyes meet mine, as if she’s afraid she’s offended me.

  “Would you like another Bloody Mary?”

  She nods and I make her one before pouring myself more aged Scotch. Something my old man would have drank, that stuck up old bastard.

  “So tell me more about you.” Her eyes meet mine as I set the Bloody Mary in front of her. She takes a sip and pops a bit of brie into her mouth.

  “What do you want to know?” Guarded, I take a drink of my Scotch and eye her. She lifts both shoulders slightly.

  “Anything.” She takes another drink, her eyes locked on me.

  Anything. Okay, I’m game. I plant both elbows on the bar and lean in close to her. Her lips are only six inches away from mine, so close I know she can smell the scotch on my breath. “I want to make you come. For me.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “I want to make you scream in pleasure. Beg for more. I want to hear you moan my name.” My cock is throbbing hard and I want to take her to bed now. But it’s too soon.

  “How old are you?” she whispers.

  “Thirty-five.” I can only hope my age isn’t a problem.

  “I’m only twenty-four.” She studies me, lust in her eyes.

  “I’m not worried about that. Are you?”

  Her eyes close and I watch goose bumps break out on her arms and along her neck, collarbone, and across the exposed vee of her chest. “No,” she whispers.

  “Good.” I lean in closer until my lips are flush with her ear. “Would you do everything I tell you?”

  “Yes,” she says with zero hesitation.

  My cock is so hard it aches. “Even if you you’re nervous?”

  “Yes.” She breathes the word on a sigh and I struggle to keep my damn hands to myself.

  “You’re a good girl then? A good little kitten?” I flick my tongue over her earlobe and she shivers.

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.”

  She lets out a whimper of pure lust and I hold back my grin. I can smell how wet she is and I know she’s ready for me. But I’m going to make her wait. The most important thing is that she’s mine.

  Mine.

  5

  Stacy

  I told him I had to get back or Viv would worry about me. It’s not a lie; if she’s up, she’s stressing about where I’m at. No doubt about it. But in all honesty, I left because things are too heated. I want him more than anything and it’s messing with my head.

&n
bsp; Hearing him call me a good girl had my panties soaked in an instant.

  And now, as I walk back to my place, I can feel them sticking to me and the chill of how wet they are. I’m wetter than I was when I’d been thinking about bringing a hot construction worker home. I’m wetter than I ever remember being.

  How the hell did he do that to me?

  I glance over my shoulder at his place. Is he watching me right now? Watching me walk away and wondering if he should chase after me like this is some bad rom com?

  I face forward. Would he have fucked me if I stayed?

  Hell, I don’t know. I can’t be sure. But, whatever he wants, I’m all in. He’s hot, sexy, and has some weird effect on my whole body. I must be losing my mind.

  “Get a grip, Stacy.” I let out a shaky breath and walk up the front step to mine and Viv’s place.

  I push the heavy door open.

  “Stac, is that you?” Viv calls out.

  “Yeah, it’s me!” I close the door behind me and slide the deadbolt locked. It’s a safe neighborhood, but old habits die hard. I’m going to lock every door behind me until the day I die.

  “Where were you?” Viv’s voice grows closer and I breathe a deep sigh while saying a bit of a prayer. I’m not even a little bit religious, but I don’t want her to go all guard dog on me. And she will if she knows what kind of man Kane is.

  “Neighbor’s house.” It sounds innocent enough on my lips. But is she going to believe it? Is she going to question me? Because I’ll cave. The smell of bacon makes my mouth water and I wander toward the kitchen. Sure, I just had cheese and three Bloody Mary’s, but bacon is always a go for me. No matter how full I am or how recently I ate. Bacon is my weakness; my kryptonite.

  And Viv knows that.

  “Is he hot?” She asks as I walk into the kitchen. The space has been renovated and the starry knight granite countertops glitter in the recessed lighting. Wooden panels scream old money and newer modern appliances whisper new money. I don’t belong here and I know it. But I love everything about this house.

  “Oh hell yeah! But he’s not your type.” I know Viv as well as I know myself. She would not go for the kind of guy Kane is.

  “Not my type?” she laughs and pulls the parchment paper-lined baking pan out of the oven. She’s the only person I’ve ever met that bakes her bacon, but oh em gee, it’s the best damn bacon I’ve ever eaten in my life.

  “Not your type.” I shake my head and grab a strip of bacon. It’s so hot I bounce it from hand to hand hot potato style while she watches with amusement.

  “It might be hot. Would I do him?” She’s quick to grab metal tongs and put the strips of bacon on a ready plate.

  I think about it for a second. He’s super-hot, but would that outweigh her ideals? “No, probably not.” She’s not into dominant men. She’s not the type to enjoy being spanked or anything. Which is fine, I love her dearly, but I also know her well enough to know he wouldn’t do it for her.

  “Why not?” she asks, cracking a couple eggs into a pan.

  I stand by, crunching on my bacon. “He’s very… demanding.”

  “Dominant?” She gives me a sideways glance and I nod.

  “He really turns me on.” Viv and I are close, that’s the only reason I’m comfortable talking to her about this. She’d never judge me, even if she doesn’t get my attraction to the guy. “I think he’d tie me up and spank me.” I shove more bacon into my mouth, thinking about the light in his eyes when I told him I’m a bad girl. I have no doubt he’d spank me. And the thought sends tingling warmth through every inch of my being.

  “Really?” She’s staring at me now while the eggs bubble in the hot skillet.

  I nod. As much as I love and trust her, I’m also a little afraid of what she’ll say next. I mean, I trust her, but this is a bit much for anybody. And I know it’s not her thing. Not at all. But as I think about it, I imagine his hand meeting my backside and the resulting sting of his hand on my flesh. A shiver tickles down my spine and I let out a sigh.

  “Oh, hell no.” Viv is shaking her head and I stare at her in shock.

  “What?” I ask, lost in the residual excitement of the thought of Kane’s hand clapping my ass hard.

  “Ain’t no man every going to whip my ass.” She’s still shaking her head.

  I sigh. That’s exactly what I expect her to say. She’s not into any of this. And I didn’t think I was either. But clearly—I shiver as heat sparkles within me—it’s something I’m into. The question is, can I get Mr. Hot, hunky neighbor man to show me the ropes?

  Literally? I bet he’s into ropes—and whips.

  The thought sends a shiver down my spine and I hold back a whimper. No need to embarrass myself in front of Viv.

  “Are you going to see him again?” Viv arches an eyebrow at me.

  I lift a shoulder. “Maybe? I really don’t know.” We didn’t make any plans. I want to see him again, but I’m not sure he wants to see me. I mean, I was practically ready to show myself into his bedroom and into his bed. But he never opened the door for me, so things didn’t progress. Maybe I read him wrong.

  Maybe he’s not into me.

  “If you want him, tell him.” Viv scoops up an egg and puts it on a plate with some bacon. She shoves it at me and I take it while she puts the other egg on another plate. Together, we sit at the table.

  “What if he’s not into me?” Why am I so worried about it? I’m never worried about things like this. If he’s not interested, move on.

  Viv hesitates, her eyes locked on me and her fork dangling from her hand. “Then fuck him. Find someone else. What’s with this guy? Is he secretly a freaking movie star or something?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s just hot.” I take a bite of my sunny side up egg. She smooshes a bit of bacon into the unbroken yolk and pops the bite in her mouth.

  “Speaking of hot guys,” she says after swallowing her bite, “I can’t believe Valentine’s Day is almost here.”

  “Really? Already?” Stores had Valentine’s Day stuff out the day after Christmas was over. How could anyone forget?

  “I guess you haven’t set foot in a store since Christmas, then?” she says, shoving a bite of bacon into her mouth.

  “Obviously I have. But it’s almost here now. Where did the time go?”

  “Well, we were drunk New Year’s Day. It’s all pretty much a blur since then. Work, party, work, party.” She scrapes up the last bit of yolk with her bacon and shrugs. “Do you ever think we’re messing up?”

  I pause, staring at her. But she’s staring at her plate.

  “What do you mean?” I ask when my mouth is empty.

  “I mean, do you think we’re screwing up by partying so much and bringing home strangers and just getting drunk all the time?” She’s still refusing to look at me and I reach out and put a hand over hers.

  “I think it’s our lives. We get to do it our way. And you’d still wonder if we were screwing up even if we were doing everything right. If we were in college studying every second, you’d wonder if we were missing out on the parties. It’s all relative.”

  She chuckles. “You’re right. Of course. I just… I can’t shake that feeling, you know?”

  I nod. I do know. I woke up with my own existential crises this morning too. “Are you happy?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “Then don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.” Despite my reassurance, I can’t help but wonder if she’s right.

  “Fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional?” She flashes a weak smile and I stare at her. “It’s an anagram for fine. Fucked up, insecure—”

  “I know.” We’ve been friends for forever. Of course I know what she’s saying. I just don’t agree. “Everything will work out. I promise.” I squeeze her hand in mine and let her go.

  “I just hate that it’s Valentine’s day again and I’m still so fucking single.” She stands up and takes her plate to the sink. I watch her just put it in the sink and
wince. I’ll scrub it before the yolk dries and get it into the dishwasher. I don’t like mess or clutter.

  She turns to face me and leans back against the counter. Her knuckles go white as she grips the edge of the granite. “I’m sick of being single. One-night stands don’t make me feel any better and no offense, but rubbing up on you at the club doesn’t make me feel less lonely.”

  I lift a hand. “No offense taken.” I understand what she’s saying better than she knows.

  “And you met a guy and I’m just here… alone.” She lowers her head and stares at the floor, her brown hair falling forward to hide her face like a curtain.

  “I’m right here with you.” I want to make her feel better as I pop the last bite of breakfast into my mouth and stand up. Carrying my plate to the sink, I watch her move out of my way. While I scrub the dishes, she snorts.

  “You know what I mean. I love you, but you’re not a substitute for a man in my life, you know?”

  I do know. “You’ll meet someone. And besides, he and I didn’t make any promises. I might not even see him again.” As the words leave my lips, a pang of pain echoes through my heart. What if I don’t see him again?

  “But you’re going to make sure you see him again.” Viv sounds sure as I rinse the plate and put it in the dishwasher.

  “How can you be so sure?” I ask, glancing at her.

  She lifts a shoulder. “Just a hunch. I mean, you like him, don’t you?”

  Like him? Yeah. But mostly… “I want to fuck him.” I snort.

  Viv laughs. “So you want to do him. You’ll make sure you talk to him again, then. I know you.”

  I close up the dishwasher. “I don’t even have his number.”

  “But you know where he lives.”

  She has a point.

  “I’m not a stalker,” I say, feigning that I’m offended by her words.

  “I know. But I bet he couldn’t resist you if you showed up on his doorstep with that robe on and nothing under it.” she eyes me up and down and my cheeks sting. I pull the robe tighter, but I know my friend is right.

  It’s a good idea.

  I might have to make it happen.