Lucky Daddy

by Lively, R. S.

  Ten minutes later, I pull into my driveway, hop out, and run inside. I undress, leaving a trail of clothes in my wake as I head toward the bathroom. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t even wait until the water is hot to start my shower. The cold water hits my skin, but it does nothing to ease the tension and anticipation, nor my erection that points straight up toward the ceiling.

  “There’s no time for that,” I grunt, brushing the rag over my cock and lathering my balls before moving down to my legs. Gwen's big tits and long legs keep flashing through my mind and my cock jerks. I lean forward and slam my fist against the wall because the ache in my shaft just keeps getting worse.

  I have to make time.

  I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke. The tip peeks out of my fist and the water rushes down my body, adding to the sensation. I think of Gwen. Of her lips against mine. Of her hard, aching nipples rubbing against my chest. “Oh, fuck,” I groan as my sack tightens against my body. I think of her hands sliding down my chest and cupping my ass. I imagine her pulling me closer to her, letting my weeping cock rub against her inner thigh. “Gwen,” I whisper her name as the first stream of come hits the wall. I keep stroking through my orgasm, pointing my cock toward the drain so that my seed washes away.

  I chuckle, trying to catch my breath. I press my forehead against the tile wall as I finish rinsing off. That was way too quick. I turn the knobs to shut off the water, and then I grab a towel. I dry off as fast as I can, brush my teeth, throw some product in my hair, and brush my beard.

  I try on three pairs of jeans and five shirts before settling on an outfit. I stare at my collection of ties, only to put them away and stick with a more casual look. I don’t want to make it look like I’m trying too hard. Damn, now I know how women feel before dates. Shite, this isn’t even a date and I’m already going out of my mind.

  “Alright, Reilly. Everything is going to be fine,” I mutter to myself in the mirror. I spray a squirt of cologne on my shirt. “She is going to be in love with you by the end of the night.” I shake my head. “You’re a hopeful damn shmuck, ain’t ye?” Figuring this look isn’t going to get any better, I turn off the light and head out.

  I skip my way down the steps and open the door to my car. “This is a bad idea,” I tell myself, wondering if I’m doing the right thing by going there tonight. My heart aches at the thought of not seeing Gwen. I’m not afraid to admit to the excitement that has been building in me over the last few days. The messages here and there. Gwen coming home. Knowing I’m going to see her tonight. The stars are aligning. Maybe time will finally be on our side.

  The gravel crunches as I slide into my car. I reverse into the night, my headlights beaming on the road. I chase the stars that lead me to her. My heart hammers in my chest when I take the turn down their road and pull into their driveway. My headlights illuminate the front yard and deck, and right there, in a plum-colored dress that hugs her curves, stands Gwendolyn Harper. My breath catches in my throat as we stare at each other. Her hair has gotten longer, and her breasts are bigger. Gwen has somehow become even more beautiful in ways that shouldn’t be allowed.

  Fucking beautiful.

  She is temptation wrapped in a damn bow, and more than anything, I want to unravel it. I want to tug on the ribbon and watch it fall to the floor, exposing all of her flesh. My fingers itch for it.

  I cut the engine, causing my headlights to turn off, and she disappears into the night. When I get out of the car to greet her, not only has she vanished into the darkness, but from my sight as well.

  This might be harder than I thought.

  Chapter Nine

  Gwendolyn

  That sexy, Irish, tanned, Italian, off-limits, hunky man has arrived.

  And I’m freaking out.

  I know it’s him as soon as he pulls onto the road that leads to my house. The rumble of his Mustang rattles the air, vibrating my lungs as I sit on the deck. My brain told my body to move from the rocking chair, but against my better judgement, I stayed and waited until he pulled into the driveway. The lights from the car blind me for a second as I stand there, staring at him, as he stares back at me. My body responds. I have to force myself to not stomp down there and throw myself at him. He cuts off the engine and steps out of the car. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a dark green shirt. I love the color green on him. It makes the tiny hints of red in his beard and his hair a little more noticeable. His gorgeous hazel eyes stand out more, too, and I hate that I notice that. I turn on my heel and run back inside, putting as much distance as I can between me and Reilly.

  I need to remember that he doesn’t like me—that he wants nothing to do with me—and that him being here, while it doesn’t hurt him, absolutely kills me.

  “Wow, where’s the fire?” Anthony asks, grabbing my arm as he sips from his Solo cup full of gin and tonic.

  The front freaking yard.

  “What? I just needed some fresh air.”

  He cocks his head, analyzing me. “You were just outside.”

  “I wanted air from the backyard. Jeez, what are you? My mother? Hey, Mom,” I greet her as she walks by, kissing her cheek.

  “If my Bunny wants air from the backyard, then she gets air from the backyard. Stop being so nosey, Anthony.”

  “The air isn’t any different back there than it is out front, Mom.”

  “Are you questioning your mother, Anthony?” my dad asks with a smirk on his face.

  “What? How am I related to you people?” he says, tossing his hands into the air and looking toward the front door. “Oh, good. Another reasonable person, besides myself, is here.” Anthony strolls away.

  My parents turn their heads at the same time to see Reilly walking in the door. “Ah, I see why you want the backyard now,” my mom whispers.

  “Reilly? Really? I always thought you liked that Mason boy down the road!” my dad practically yells.

  “Dad, stop!” I dart my eyes around to make sure no one had been looking or eavesdropping, but you never know with this town, and considering everyone and their mothers are here, I don’t have much hope.

  My dad huffs, taking a sip of his beer. “What? He would be lucky to have my Bunny, and if he doesn’t want you, then he doesn’t deserve you.” I smile when he kisses my forehead and opens the sliding glass door. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell Anthony.”

  “Me either, Bunny. Can I say something, though?” Mom follows me out the door. Turning to my dad, she asks, “Honey? Can you get me another drink?”

  “Sure thing, hot momma,” Dad winks while slapping her ass, causing her to yelp.

  “You guys are disgustingly sweet,” I smile as I lean against the railing of the deck.

  The door opens again, and Mills wiggles her body through before closing it. “Mills!” I shout, giving her a big hug. I haven’t seen her since I got home, but then again, I just got here yesterday, and she had work. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Like I’d miss this. Did I interrupt something?”

  “No, dear. I was just telling Bunny—”

  “Before my dad called her hot momma and slapped her on the ass.”

  Mills wiggles her brows. “Ow, ow! You get it, Mrs. Harper.”

  “That’s right!” Mom dances around, shaking her ass.

  I place my head in my hands, wondering how in the world my mom is cooler than me. “Mom, you were saying?”

  She leans against the railing, staring off into the starlit sky. “I know you’ve been crazy about Reilly O’Hara since you were sixteen. He was too old for you at the time, so he stayed away from you. Not just because of that, though, but because you’re Anthony’s sister. But I saw him look at you on your collegiate graduation day, and he looks at you the same way that you look at him. You’re letting something that doesn’t matter get in the way.”

  “Anthony matters. I’d lose my brother, and Reilly would lose his best friend.”

  “You’re assuming. You aren’t giving your
brother enough credit.”

  Mills slurps on her straw, twirling her flowing dress as she swishes her body from side to side. “I agree with your mom.”

  “There’s no way, okay? He despises me. Always has. Always will.”

  “Bunny, I’m right about a lot of things, and this is one of them.”

  “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes, Mom.”

  “Of course it isn’t, but I’m never wrong, so…” she shrugs her shoulders, opening the sliding glass door once again. “Don’t miss out on something that could be wonderful out of fear. That’s all.” She disappears through the door.

  I try to take a sip of my drink, only to notice that I need a refill.

  “I don’t want to go back in there,” I say to Mills. "Not while he is here."

  “Why not? This is your house. Push up your boobs, take a deep breath, refill your drink, act like he isn’t here, and move on with your life. Take control.” Mills brings her hand down hard on my right ass cheek, making me squeal.

  “What is up with everyone smacking asses tonight? What are you and my dad drinking? Tell me so that I know to stay away from it,” I mutter while rubbing my cheek. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for rejection. “But you’re right.”

  “I know. Let’s go. I’ll be by your side all night.”

  “Swear?”

  She rolls her brown eyes. “I swear.”

  We step into the kitchen and all the drinks are piled up on the island. I grab a Seagram’s because I don’t care what anyone says, I think they are delicious. Right as I twist off the top, Hannah Brown, an ex-friend of mine, comes up and wraps her arms around me with no grip. What is the one thing I hate more than fake people? Fake hugs.

  “Oh my goodness! I can’t believe you're back. What happened? Was the city just a little too much for you?” she asks, in a sickly-sweet way. She pushes me back and starts twisting her blonde hair around her fingertips.

  “Loved it.” Like I’d tell her why I’m back. I might be jobless, but I’m not stupid.

  “But why are you back?”

  “I wanted a change of scenery.”

  “Right, but just between us girls, what's the real reason?” she asks in a hushed voice.

  “Listen, you nosey bitch. You and I both know you’re going to run off and spin the story into a rumor. She isn’t going to tell you, I’m not going to tell you, and neither is anyone else. Who invited you anyway?” Mills gets all up in Hannah’s face. Reilly, with the Irish blood in his veins, isn't the only one with a temper. Mills has a short fuse, too. One I always have to extinguish on her behalf.

  “Irene! Hey, how are you?” I see one of my mom’s friends across the kitchen and pull Mills along with me. I whisper out of the side of my mouth as we walk. “She isn’t worth it.”

  “I know, but one good punch to the face would shut her up for good. Just one.” Mills balls one fist and hits her other hand, like she’s preparing for a fight.

  I don’t have time to say anything else. I hug Irene and her husband. Everything after that goes smoothly. It’s good to see everyone. I share laughs and stories with a few old friends, but during the rounds, my soul shifts a little, as though it wants me to go toward the center of the room. I peek over my shoulder and see Reilly staring at me for a second before averting his gaze.

  “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Mills whispers.

  “Sure, what’s up?” I sip my drink, trying to pay attention to her, but Reilly is leaning against the fireplace across the room, looking like a damn snack.

  “I want you to move in with me.”

  “What? Really?” I’m shocked. That would help me out so much and get me away from my childhood bedroom.

  “Yes. It would be great. We can split rent and all that, plus it would be like girl’s night every night.”

  I launch myself at her, giving her one of my famous bear hugs. “I’d love that.” Plus, I’d get some of my independence back.

  “Can’t. Breathe.”

  “Right. Sorry.” I pull away and my gaze drifts toward him. Our eyes lock, and my breath catches in my throat. My body already starts to respond to his presence. My nipples are tightening, and my panties are already wet. I need to get out of here. “I need to get some air, Mills. I’ll be back.”

  She looks over her shoulder to see the object of my fascination. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It isn’t a big deal. Really.”

  “Okay. I've got to go, though. I have to wake up early to go to work. I love you. Call me later, okay?” Mills leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “Remember what your mom said,” she whispers in my ear before setting her cup down. “I’m going to go say goodbye to your parents and then I’m out.”

  “Okay, drive safely. Tell me when you’re home. And I love you, too," I reply.

  Mills blows me a kiss and disappears into the other room. She isn’t the only one leaving. Other people start to trickle out since it’s getting late, but Reilly is still leaning against the damn fireplace, mimicking an ad from GQ or something.

  My skin always gets tight and hot whenever I am in the same room as him. His eyes are searing into me and I can’t take it anymore. I stroll down the hallway, saying hello to a few other people before unlocking the sliding glass door and stepping outside. I didn’t think tonight would be so overwhelming, but it is. Is it all the people, or is it just one person in particular?

  I lean against the rail and exhale. The late winter night brings crisp air along with it, but it feels good against my feverish skin. The way my skin cools tells me the breeze has dried the light sheen of sweat covering my body. Jeez, I’m a wreck. The sliding glass door opens, but I don’t think anything of it. I figure it must be my parents or Anthony, but when a bottle of whiskey clunks down in front of me, I gulp. The massive amount of heat radiating off my body makes my skin feverish all over again, and my soul tugs like it did in the house.

  “Reilly," I whisper into the night, staring at the whiskey bottle in front of me. I know this bottle. It’s the same one he gave me for my graduation.

  “Hey, Gwenie.”

  The slight Irish lilt makes my toes curl. He’s the only one who calls me that, and I haven’t heard it in years. I can’t let my emotions show. I can’t let him see how his nearness affects me. “What are you doing here, Reilly?”

  “Ye brother invited me.”

  My heart breaks again. Nothing is ever just because of me, and no matter how much I’d built myself for his rejection, my heart still shatters. “Enjoying yourself?” I unscrew the top of the whiskey bottle and take a swig.

  “It’s good to see everyone. It’s good to see ye, too, Gwenie. It’s been a long time.”

  My face flushes when he says the word been. It sounds like ‘bean’ because of his accent, and I love it. “Yeah, it has. Five years, I think?”

  “Five years is too long.”

  I hold my head in my hands as I stare at him. His messy, curly ringlets of hair hang lower than I remember, like he’s grown it out since the last time I saw him. His beard is thicker, too, and I can see tiny hints of red shining like jewels among the black hair. His arms have a few new tattoos, but they don’t take away from his good looks. If anything, they only make me want him more.

  “Yeah. I don’t know why we don’t talk more,” I lie. I know exactly why we don't talk more often. It's because I’d fall in love with him if we did.

  “So, let’s catch up.”

  “Right now?” I ask, watching him grip the glass bottle in his hand and swig the whiskey. I watch as his throat bobs, and my tongue involuntarily flicks out over my lips.

  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and I want so bad to kiss him. “Right now.”

  I don’t say anything for a minute. The lamp above us buzzes, filling the silence. “Alright.” I swirl my finger around on the wood. “How have you been since Lucky died?” I want to hit myself in the face after posing that question. What a horrible way to
start the conversation.

  He smiles, rubbing his beard. “Ye know, I’ve been better. It’s been hard going to the pub every day and not seeing him.”

  Out of instinct, I rest my hand on his, and when our skin touches, static electricity shoots from my hand to his. “I’m sorry. Both for shocking you and for Lucky. I know how close you two were.” It takes every ounce of strength within me to stop touching him and bring my hand back down in front of me.

  “Thanks. It means a lot. It is still blowing me mind, ye know. Ah, there I go again. My accent seems to get heavier when I drink. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. I like it.” I don’t mean to say that either.

  “Yeah? Good. I ain’t changing for nobody,” he jokes. The glass bottle rubs against the grain of the wood as he drags it toward him. “So, tell me what’s been going on with you? Did you like Portland?”

  I stare at him for a minute, wondering if he remembers anything about our conversation the other night when he drunkenly dialed my number, because I’m pretty sure I already answered this question. “Well, let’s see. I traveled after college for a bit.”

  “Aye. I remember your brother telling me that.”

  I push a piece of hair out of my face. “And I applied to schools all over the country. It was really important to me that I try to make it somewhere other than here. Somewhere that wasn't home. I wanted an adventure.”

  “I always liked that about ye. Ye loved life and yer independency.”

  “I had no idea you liked anything about me.” I try to laugh it off, but the pain over the last few years still creeps into my voice. “Anyway, I went to Portland and absolutely loved it. I was alone most of the time, but I didn’t mind. I was proud of myself for trying things on my own, but that only lasted a year, because here I am, back home, drinking out of a bottle.” I reach for the whiskey at the same time he does. Our fingers touch, my eyes lifting to meet his.

  “Ye should be proud of yourself for trying. Some people don’t even do that.”