Pretend I'm YoursA Single Dad Romance

by Vivian Wood

  She dropped to all fours at once and began a slow, intentional crawl towards him. Sean loosened his belt and released his cock. By the time Harper arrived, lips parted with tiny mewls of need emanating from her, he was rock hard and slick with pre-cum.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He allowed her to use her hands. She gripped his base and stroked his length while her tongue worked his tip.

  “That’s enough,” he said when she’d brought him close. “Stand up.” Even in the dim light, he could see the redness spread across her knees, the signs of bruises to come. It excited him even more.

  Although he loved her naked body, especially when the bruises from their last session were fresh, something about the innocent femme schoolgirl dress intrigued him. Sean took out the police-grade handcuffs with steel that could bite into flesh if she resisted too much. “On the bed,” he said.

  She spread out on the black plastic, the frilly dress a stark contrast to the vinyl and steel. Sean secured her wrists and ankles. Crouched before her, he trailed his tongue from her calf to her inner thigh. She let out a cry when she jerked against the cold steel, an automatic reaction as he flicked his tongue across her clit.

  “Move too much and you’ll hurt yourself,” he warned.

  He pressed his palms into her thighs, forced her legs wide and traced his name with his tongue across her clit. It engorged in his mouth and her wetness began to slip down her thighs onto the vinyl.

  When she was close, he backed off. “Is this your first time edging?” he asked.

  She nodded, her hair matted and eyes unfocused.

  “Answer me,” he said while he pressed his thumb against her clit.

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  He brought her close to the edge five times. Each time, he could sense her want and frustration, but she never once voiced it.

  “You’ve been good,” he said. Her juices had spread across a quarter of the plastic, and her clit was swollen beyond what he’d ever seen. “I think you deserve a reward.”

  He grasped her hips and lifted her middle onto his legs. For just a moment, he teased his tip against her opening. Harper groaned in desire. The cuffs kept her from having much movement, but she did her best to press herself against him.

  As he dove into her, tears streamed down her cheeks. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Gomorrah,” she whispered, over and over.

  She came fast and hard, vaginal walls clutched against him. The sensation made him come with her. Sean released into her. He could stay there, buried inside her, forever, but he forced himself to pull out slowly. He watched their combined come spill out of her slowly. Cream pies had never done much for him before, but with her it was different.

  Harper shook gently on the vinyl as he unlocked the cuffs. Easily, he lifted her up. Cradled in his arms, he moved her to the couch. He pulled out fresh cloths from the bedside table and spent ten minutes gently wiping her down. Sean pulled off her dress and wrapped her in the luxe black robe.

  As he rose up from between her legs, where he’d pressed and wiped at the wetness with the cloth, she kissed him. It was sudden, unexpected. His immediate reaction was to reprimand her, but it wasn’t the right time.

  Besides, it stirred something deep inside him. Be careful, he thought. It was one thing for him to get addicted to her. But what if it was mutual?

  He couldn’t think about that. A growl began from deep inside him. Harper’s eyes widened. The last thing Sean remembered was how easy it was to rip the robe off of her.

  25

  Harper

  By the time Harper stumbled out of Sean’s house, it was early morning. The previous evening—and all through the night—was a blur. She felt incredibly light and full of too much energy to go home.

  Instead, Harper drove straight to the gym, thankful it opened at five in the morning. She peeled off the torn and stained dress, crisp with countless orgasms. As she pulled up the leggings and a skin-tight wet-wicking tank top, she got a glimpse of the thick peach fuzz that had started to crop up on her arms. Harper examined her face, neck and chest in the mirror. Fucking lanugo. After the elliptical, she’d have to do a full-body shave in the gym showers.

  It had been almost a full day since she’d eaten. Sean had instructed her on what to have for lunch yesterday. Having him direct her, complete with strict orders on what to eat and how much, it was like she’d been given permission. For once, she’d been allowed to eat without counting calories. Not once did she assess how easy a bite would be to purge.

  Normally she’d be hungry. She was a morning eater on good days and forced whatever small bites she took to sustain her throughout the day. But today was different.

  “You’re addicted,” she’d laughed into his ear last night. “Insatiable.” It had been after their third fuck, and the black robe made her feel safe.

  “I’m okay being addicted to you,” he’d said.

  That line rang through her head as she began the endless rounds on the elliptical. It empowered her. It wasn’t just the strength of his response, but the power she felt in not eating. In not even being tempted. The thought of food didn’t intrigue or disgust her. She simply wasn’t interested.

  I can be anoretic after all, she thought. Fuck Alfie. Not eating, combined with these kinds of workouts, that would show the naysayers. All those pretentious clients who thought it was easy to starve yourself. To be a size 00 when you’ve got Amazonian proportions. It is easy. It is.

  Harper broke her own record with 150 minutes on the elliptical. She’d bested two different girls who hopped on the machine beside her. As always, they stole glances at her numbers. One was probably the same size as Harper, but four inches shorter. The other was encased in layers of fat, easily a size eight.

  She could see the judgment in their eyes. Who does this gangling redhead think she is? They’d both glared at her when they got off the machine, incapable of keeping up with her.

  With a high she’d never reached before, she completed the two and a half hours and slowed her legs to a halt. Water. I’m just taking a break for some water.

  But when she stepped off the machine, it was like getting off a trampoline. Her legs trembled and didn’t understand the new ground. Harper made it halfway to the water fountain before she fell.

  Even as her palms hit the hard linoleum, all she could think was, Please, God, don’t let people stare at me.

  “Harper?” The familiar voice sounded miles away, though she saw the shadow right over her. “What’s wrong?” It was Molly. When did she get here? “Helena! Helena!”

  Was the whole fucking house here? And since when did Helena work out?

  Helena and Molly hovered over her, along with one of the bulked-up trainers who overtly stared at Harper’s ass whenever she walked by. “Give her room,” the trainer said. “She needs to breathe. I know CPR.”

  Harper couldn’t focus on anyone. Molly and Helena looked faint with blurred edges. Helena, your crow’s feet are gone, she wanted to say. It almost made her laugh.

  “Her heart’s racing,” the trainer said. She felt a light pressure on her wrist. “Jesus, this can’t be right, two hundred and twenty beats per minute.”

  “She has the high blood pressure,” Helena said quickly.

  “Yeah, I train in L.A.,” the trainer said shortly. “I know high blood pressure is a side effect of anorexia.”

  It is? Harper knew her blood pressure had slowly increased over the years, but thought it just happened when you got older. And tried to force yourself to be a smoker.

  “We have to call an ambulance,” the trainer said.

  “Yes, is best,” Helena agreed.

  “No!” Harper shouted. It came out louder than she would have liked, but at least she got her point across. “I’m okay, I just went too hard.”

  Helena looked dour. “Harper, is not good. You need the professional help.”

  “Listen to
your mom,” the trainer said. “I’m calling 9-1-1-.”

  “I’m not her mother!” Helena said with utter disgust. “How old you think I am?”

  “No ambulance,” Harper repeated. She made herself sit up, though it caused her world to spin.

  “If you’re … Christ, you’re an adult,” the trainer said. “I can’t make you. If you’re sure …”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Let’s get you some water,” Helena said. As the trainer helped Harper to her feet and towards a bench, she became aware that the entire gym still stared at her. Was that girl on the treadmill trying to take a covert picture?

  “Here, drink,” Helena said, and shoved a pink bottle into Harper’s hands.

  Molly sat beside Harper and gently rubbed her knee. She tried not to wince. Molly hit the bruises from last night just right.

  “You, uh … let me know if you need anything,” the trainer said. He sized up the three tall, thin women. A redhead, an older eastern European, and a half-black girl. She could tell he tried to make sense of their relationship, but struggled.

  “I still think ambulance is good idea,” Helena said.

  “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  “Oh, really? Then what’s this?” Helena asked as she traced an accusing finger along the lanugo on Harper’s arm.

  “Haven’t waxed in awhile,” Harper said sullenly.

  “Look, I make you deal. You get to my car okay, no help, then no ambulance. Molly, you have banana?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Molly said as she started to dig through her bag.

  “All sugar—” Harper began.

  “Exactly,” Helena said. “Eat. Molly, is okay. Go back to your workout, I time you from here.”

  “But I—”

  “Go. You going to listen to me or not?”

  Molly got to her feet and walked slowly back to the treadmill.

  Helena sighed and looked around. The gym had largely gone back to their pre-drama self-obsession. “Harper,” Helena said softly. “Your body, it can’t take the restriction like it used to.”

  “It can. I—”

  “I know better than you. Some girls, is easy,” Helena said with a shrug. “They starve their whole life, and is okay. Some girls, they’re body not so tough. Is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Harper hung her head. Weak, just say it, Helena.

  “Can I make suggestion? If I were you, I would start looking for other type of work.”

  “What? No! I’m just twenty-five, I—”

  Helena laughed, but there was kindness in it. “Just?” she asked. “Harper, maybe models don’t all have to be thirteen years old anymore. But twenty-five? Is not young. You keep going like this, you die.”

  “I don’t have anything else,” Harper said finally.

  Helena patted her hand. “You eat,” she said, and pointed to banana. “Why look like a corpse for no reason?”

  Harper’s mouth dropped open. A corpse? I wish.

  “Every model’s career ends some time. Your time, is just a little earlier than others.”

  “I don’t want it to end,” Harper said. Her hands started to peel the banana, though her mind resisted. It was like somebody else was in control of her fingers.

  “Look, I like you. You good girl,” Helena said. “For that, we wait two weeks before I tell management company that you’re done. In that time, you find other place to live and work. Is good?”

  “Two weeks?” Harper asked. She bit into the sweet softness of the banana. Real sugar, not that Stevia crap, coated her tongue. Somewhere in the distance, a tiny animal made happy mewling sounds. It wasn’t until she was halfway through that she realized it was her.

  “Two weeks is long time,” Helena said. “Lot can happen.” She sighed. “Molly, she not as committed as you, look.”

  Across the gym, Molly languidly walk-jogged on the treadmill as she stared intently at the television.

  “I go whip her in shape. You stay here, I drive you both home.”

  Harper knew it was pointless to argue. She pulled her knees up below her chin and finished the banana. One hundred and fifty calories, thirty grams of sugar and carbs, who gave a fuck? She’d just un-raveled the past two and a half hours of work.

  As she watched Helena yell at Molly to go faster, a rage boiled up inside her. Harper closed her eyes and disappeared into a dark place. Fat, heavy tears spilled down her face.

  Done? At twenty-five? What would her mom say? Or P, or the rest of the fucking modeling world? What about the show?

  What about Sean?

  She couldn’t imagine how disappointed he’d be in her. Who was forced into retirement at twenty-five years old? “Are you okay?” Harper opened her eyes. An unfamiliar stick of a girl, likely not out of high school yet, looked her up and down. She was a model, Harper could tell. It was in how she carried herself, shoulders back and pelvis forward.

  “Fucking fantastic,” Harper said.

  The girls’ eyes widened in fear and she scuttled away towards the elliptical. It was the same one Harper had abandoned. She hadn’t even had a chance to wipe it down.

  26

  Sean

  Sean’s phone buzzed incessantly on the bedside table. He pulled his head out from under the pillow and could tell it was barely dawn. Who the fuck is calling this early? He didn’t recognize the number, but could tell it was local.

  “Yeah?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

  “Sean? It’s Bill.”

  “Bill?” Your lawyer calling you before eight in the morning is never a good sign. “Why … why are you calling this early?”

  “I’m in New York, it’s nearly lunch time. Did I wake you? There’s a new D.A.” Bill didn’t even wait for Sean to respond.

  “Yeah? So?”

  “So he’d known for being a hardass. Look, I know I told you everything was under control, sympathetic judge and all that. The judge part is still true.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m telling you this new D.A. might make trouble, if he’s so inclined.”

  “But I wasn’t even the one driving—”

  “I know that,” Bill said with an exhausted sigh. “But you were both totally wasted in that car. Those B.A.C. levels were off the charts. Cocaine in Ashton’s system—”

  “But I was clean. Of drugs,” Sean said.

  “Yeah, you were clean, and your B.A.C. was lower than his. That might make it worse.”

  “Worse? How?”

  “He could argue that you were in a right enough state of mind that you should have been the one taking care of Ashton. And the coke found in the car? I know you said it was Ashton’s. I believe you. Hell, I’m sure a jury would believe you if it came to that. But there’s no way to prove it.”

  “What … what do you mean?”

  “I mean the D.A. might argue the coke was yours, that you encouraged Ashton to get high, and for whatever reason you just hadn’t taken any yet. Maybe he’ll argue you just hadn’t got around to it—after all, there was coke all over that goddamned car. Pretty evident that he was taking it right there. He might try to argue you’re a dealer and got Ashton hooked, but don’t get high on your own supply.”

  “What?”

  “Look, I don’t know what his angle is yet, Sean. I just found out about the new D.A. this morning. I just wanted to warn you. It’s possible he might try to pin this whole thing on you.”

  “So … what now?”

  “Just hang tight. I’ll figure this out.”

  Bill hung up while he started to yell for a cab. Sean was readily alert. What the fuck? His head spun and he rubbed his temples. What now? Nothing. Nothing now. Now you wait.

  Shit, and he’d planned that rooftop date tonight, too. Sean couldn’t disappoint Harper. Besides, maybe dressing up and whisking her away to the roof of The Monalban for the Rooftop Cinema Club was just what he needed.

  “You ready for tonight?” he texted her.

  “Yes, I’m excit
ed,” she said. “What’s playing?”

  “You’ll see, sweetheart.”

  Sean spent the day doing whatever it took to keep his mind off the call with Bill. By the time he needed to shower and get ready for his date with Harper, he’d gone through every possible scenario. It wouldn’t be manslaughter, so that was good. What was the worst sentence they could pile on him?

  “What should I wear?” Harper’s text waited for him when he stepped out of the shower. He liked that, how she’d so easily transitioned into waiting for his daily instructions.

  “A long skirt, it might get cold. And a thin top, no bra.” Evenings in California could get chilly. The idea of playing with her hard nipples as the massive screen lit up the audience got him hard.

  Harper lounged on the patio chair when he pulled up. She’d done well. The long black maxi skirt swirled around her sandaled feet and the thin, white Hanes tank top might as well have been transparent. “I brought a scarf, just in case,” she said. “I hope that’s okay. It’s just that … this shirt …”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “It’s perfect.”

  The valet at the hotel rushed his door while another struggled to keep his eyes off Harper’s chest as he helped her out. “Here for the rooftop film?” the valet asked.

  “Yes,” Sean said. He slipped the valet a twenty. “Make it so there’s no wait when we’re finished.”

  “Yes, sir,” the valet said. Sean furrowed his brow. He’d grown used to only hearing those words from Harper.

  She took in the stunning lobby filled with couples who clung closely to each other. “Look,” Sean said with a nod. An otherwise plain couple stood closely together by the elevators. The woman held a thin swatch of leather in her fist. A chain attached to it led to a dog collar wrapped around her date’s neck.

  “What exactly are we seeing?” Harper asked.

  He pulled the tickets out of his leather jacket and handed it to her.

  “The Secretary,” she said. “I can’t believe they’re showing it in such a … normal venue.”