Next Door Daddy

by Jagger Cole

  When his car pulls out through the big gates at the end of the driveway, I quickly dress. I leave the guest room that I’ll be living in for the next week, and I head right down the hallway to the master bedroom suite. I’ve got an itch, and the only cure is snooping.

  Even though he’s not home, I still find myself tiptoeing as I open the door to Logan’s room and sneak inside. The space is masculine but tasteful, decorated with lots of modern dark wood and black iron finishes. Logan’s bed is an enormous California king set against one wall, made neatly and crisply with the dark sheets and comforter folded with military precision. I make my way across the room to it, and I can feel a pulse of heat inside of me as I let my fingers trail over the comforter.

  It feels exciting to be in the place where he sleeps. I blush deeply at another thought, too: it’s exciting to be in the place where he fucks. But the excitement quickly turns to bitterness, and I can feel the sour pull of jealousy at the idea of him bringing women to this bed. Once again, Logan Kane is gorgeous, extremely wealthy, and single. The man probably has his pick of several different girls any damn time he wants. But that doesn’t mean I need to freaking think about it.

  Instead, I let my imagination run a little wild. Instead of random other woman, I picture Logan bringing me to his bed. Sure, I have no idea how I’d even begin to know how to please a man like him, with his age compared to mine and his experience compared to my lack thereof. But a daydream doesn’t need to be realistic.

  I trace his pillows with my fingertips and turn towards one of the matching side tables beside the bed. I open the drawer to snoop, but there’s just a bottle of vitamins and what looks like folders of work papers. I walk around the bed to the other side and try the drawer in the other table. This time I gasp quietly when it opens, because there’s no work papers in this one.

  It’s condoms. Lots and lots of condoms, and a big black bottle of lube. My face burns hotly, and I bring a hand to my mouth as my eyes widen in shock. Again, that bitter jealousy comes rushing through me at the idea of him having other girls here. In fact, I hate the idea of it, even though I know how stupid it is to feel jealousy like this, or to feel possessive of him. I remind myself that Logan Kane is my much older neighbor, and that’s it. He’s a man more than twice my age who is very much not interested in me in that way, obviously.

  I shake my head at my own silliness, but the jealousy lingers. I swallow as I reach into the drawer, and I tremble a little when my fingers run over the box of condoms. It’s not even open. Realizing that actually makes the jealous feeling lessen, which makes me feel even more ridiculous. I open the drawer a little more, and my eyes catch sight of something else behind the condoms and lube. I frown, not really sure what I’m looking at. I reach for it and pick it up out of the drawer to get a closer look. I quickly realize exactly what it is.

  I’m holding Logan Kane’s cock ring. My first instinct is to drop it and scream, but I don’t. Instead, a naughty tingling feeling comes over me as I appreciate what I’m holding in my hands. I’ve looked at sex toy websites, I do know what the black rubber ring in my hand is. But sweet Jesus, it’s also absolutely huge. The ring in my hand looks like it could easily slip over my entire hand to wear as a loose, bangle bracelet.

  The thought has me giggling for a second. But then I remember that I’m holding something that’s been on Logan’s cock, and I blush deeply. I finger the rubber ring another second before I quickly put it back and close the drawer. I can feel heat between my legs. I shiver and breathe a little deeper.

  The sound of the car in the driveway startles me. Quickly, I turn and scamper from his room and downstairs. By the time he walks in, I’m lounging on his couch pretending to scroll through TV channels. I look up as he walks in, and I swear the guilt is all over my face. But Logan doesn’t seem to notice.

  “So day one wasn’t so bad was it?”

  “You mean being a prisoner here?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Right, with the sunbathing poolside, a stocked kitchen, and the hundred-thousand-dollar big screen home entertainment room. Exactly like prison, Lacey.”

  I give him a patronizing look back, which he ignores. So I turn back to the TV, my heart still racing after what I just found upstairs.

  “I’m going to go get showered and changed, and then I’m out for the night.”

  My head whips around to him again. “For what?” I blurt out.

  “A date.”

  The same bitter, boiling jealousy from earlier is back in a flash. I scowl when he says it. I can see the curious look on his face when I do, so I quickly backpedal. “And I just have to stay here?”

  “As opposed to coming along with me on my date?” He smirks in amusement, which only ticks me off. “Yes, Lacey. You’re staying here.”

  I shrug flippantly. “You can’t make me.”

  “I can’t, but I will come find you and drag you back here if you run off.”

  I turn back to him, my mouth opening in shock.

  “I’m an adult, you know!”

  “Oh yeah? Then act like one,” he mutters before he turns and walks away. I can feel my heart beating quickly in a mix of jealousy, anger, and excitement from snooping around his room earlier.

  Half an hour later, Logan’s back downstairs in a perfectly tailored heather grey suit and crisp white linen dress shirt, no tie. He looks fucking amazing, and that jealousy of mine is still just simmering inside.

  “Try to stay out of trouble,” he growls from the side entryway before he steps out. A car rumbles outside, and I glance out the window to see his Maserati pulling down the driveway and disappearing into the fading evening.

  Anger and jealousy stew inside of me for another few minutes as I pretend to watch something stupid on TV. But then I’m up and storming back upstairs to his room. I barge right in and march right over to the drawer. I’m not sure I want to learn what I think I might, but I have to know. I yank the drawer open and snatch up the box of condoms, and my heart falls.

  It’s open now. I stare at it, feeling furious and hurt before I throw it back in the drawer and slam it shut. I sit on the edge of his bed and pout. Again, he’s single, crazy hot, and fabulously wealthy. And I’m just some silly troublesome nineteen-year-old he’s being forced to endure for a week. Of course he’s going out to blow off some steam and get laid.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket to sulk while I scroll through pictures of my friends in Ibiza. But the stupid thing drops to the floor next to the bed. I mutter under my breath as I slide off the edge and crouch down to get it. But suddenly, something catches my eyes. I peer under the bed, and my heart starts to race as I reach for it. I pull out a pair of pink, lacy thong panties from under Logan’s bed, and my eyes widen as my face turns red.

  They’re mine. The panties scrunched into a little ball under Logan’s bed are the very same ones I know I laid out earlier that were missing after my shower. I’m not even sure how to process what I’m looking at. But suddenly, my fingers rub over them, and I freeze. They’re… hard.

  It hits me like a car crash, and I gasp loudly. I drop the panties and step away with my heart racing. I stare at them on the floor, but then I kneel down and pick them up again with a trembling hand.

  It’s cum. Virgin or not, I know damn well that’s what it is all over them. Logan’s got a stolen thong of mine under his bed, and it’s caked with his cum. I’m well aware that I should be angry, or disgusted, or totally grossed out by the invasion of my privacy and what this means. But I’m not grossed out at all. Instead, I just feel warm, and a fluttery feeling washes over me.

  I know this means two things. One, Logan came into my room, probably while I was showering. I know that means there’s a really good chance he saw me through the open bathroom door in the glass-walled shower. Knowing that has my body tensing with desire. My nipples harden instantly, and I can feel the wetness between my legs. The second thing it means is that my panties, or seeing me, or maybe both, turned him on so much that he
couldn’t hold back. And that might be the single hottest thought I’ve ever had in my life.

  My brain churns and my thoughts are wild. He’s out on his date, but fuck that. I know it’s a stupid thought, but I also don’t care anymore. Date or not, him being twice my age or not… it doesn’t matter anymore.

  I’ve wanted Logan Kane for forever. Now I know he wants me too, and that means, he’s mine.

  7

  Logan

  Carolyn curls a loose strand of her long mahogany hair teasingly around one finger. Her perfectly painted lips curl into a coy smile as she leans across the table toward me. Most men might have trouble keeping their composure with a woman like Carolyn leaning into them like this, giving all the possible signals of her intent. Most men would have caved already, and let their eyes drop from her smoky bedroom eyes to the plunging cleavage shown off by her cocktail dress.

  I’m not most men. I keep talking, about whatever we’ve been talking about over a thousand-dollar-a-piece chef’s tasting menu of the newest sushi restaurant in New York. The chef here apparently apprenticed with the undisputed best sushi chef in the world for four decades before he was deemed worthy enough to open his own place, and the food is goddamn exquisite. Once again, most men might have a hard time enjoying the perfect morsels of food on each little serving with a woman like Carolyn eye-fucking them from across the table. But not me.

  It’s not that Carolyn Conroy isn’t beautiful. Anyone to say otherwise would be a liar at best. I mean the woman is literally on the cover of two different fashion magazines right now, and posters of her in that gold mesh bikini from last year’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue are the hottest selling pin up since Britney Spears.

  She’s gorgeous, she’s single, and she unquestionably would do anything I could possibly ask or tell her to do in bed. And yet, instead of drooling and tripping over myself to get her out of this restaurant and to that bed, I’m unfazed. I’m not having a bad time, but I know this isn’t going to end with us sleeping together, and that pisses me the fuck off. Not because I want to fuck her, though. It’s the reason I don’t want to fuck her that’s pissing me off.

  I hate to admit it, but it’s there, lingering in the front of my thoughts. It’s making my blood run a little hotter and making it hard to even remember what I’m talking about at the moment. It’s making my balls ache for release and my cock hard with lust. The reason I’m not going to be bedding Carolyn Conroy tonight is Lacey.

  In my forty years on this earth, not a single woman has hooked into me like that tempting little bratty tease has, and it’s seriously fucking with me. I’ve been trying everything to get her out of my head. I’ve tried shaming myself by reminding myself just how off-limits, inappropriate, and young she is. But that hasn’t worked.

  The very reason I’m on this date tonight is to try and get Lacey out of my damn head. It’s been a while, I reasoned with myself. I’ve been so caught up in work that I haven’t been with a woman in months. I’ve tried telling myself that that is the reason why I’ve been lusting obsessively over the nineteen year old tease living in my house. I’ve told myself that a date with a super model ready to fuck me at the snap of my fingers would cure me. But the minute Carolyn slunk into the restaurant tonight, as gorgeous as she is, I knew it wasn’t happening. Because she’s not Lacey.

  “Logan?”

  I frown as my eyes focus back on Carolyn. “Hmm?”

  She giggles flirtatiously. “I said this uni is almost better than sex.” She lets the last word hang there, full of meaning, and she leans forward to wrap her lips seductively around the straw of her cocktail. Most men might be coming in their fucking pants at the site of Carolyn Conroy doing that a foot and a half in front of them. My mind just slides right back to the sound of Lacey’s moans as she masturbated in the shower, and the feel of her panties around my cock as I came.

  My phone dings, and I reach into my jacket pocket to pull it out. With a frown, I see the alarm system notification of a second-floor window opening. My frown hardens and I glance up at Carolyn. “Would you excuse me for a second?”

  I don’t wait for her to answer before I stand and step away from the table towards the men’s room. My thumb clicks on Lacey’s number before I bring the phone to my ear. She answers quickly.

  “What the fuck is going on over there?”

  “Nothing,” she snaps back.

  “It doesn’t sound like nothing. I got an alarm about a second-floor window opening.”

  “Your house was too hot.”

  Bullshit. The AC in my house is on a very nice cool temperature setting for the summer. “Lacey, why did you open the window?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” Her tone is snappish again, and my jaw sets.

  “I am on a date, Lacey,” I growl.

  “Well then go to her,” she snaps again. Then she hangs up.

  I grunt, shaking my head and turning to go back to the table. Carolyn smiles as I sit again and tuck my phone into my pocket. “Work stuff,” I mutter. I can still hear Lacey’s soft voice in my ear, and she’s all I can damn well think about. But I force myself to look at Carolyn; perfectly appropriate Carolyn. I’m sorely tempted to just bring her somewhere right this instant and fuck her hard and fast until I get Lacey out of my system. And then, my phone alarm goes off again.

  I swear this time when I pull the phone out again. This time, it’s a goddamn fire alarm going off in my house. I have no idea what the fuck Lacey is doing over there, but I’m done playing games. I stand abruptly. “I have to go.”

  Carolyn smiles. “Where are we going?”

  “Just me, actually,” I smile thinly. “Work came up.”

  “Oh, of course,” Carolyn looks disappointed, and I’m not hard enough a man to not feel at least a little bad about just ditching her. But I’m also very much not interested.

  “Please order whatever you want, the bill is taken care of. Thanks for a nice evening.”

  I don’t wait for another response before I turn and storm out of the restaurant. The valet scrambles to get my car while my temper simmers and my cock throbs hard. There’s a brat loose in my damn house, and I’m going to deal with her right the hell now.

  I can smell the cigar smoke the second I step inside.

  “Lacey!” I yell. I frown and slam the door behind me, stepping briskly through the house. “Are you fucking smoking in here?”

  “What, like you don’t?”

  I turn towards the open door of my office and her voice from inside. Storming over, I fling the door wide and let my eyes focus on her. She’s standing by the open window in a long black silk robe with her back to me, one hand holding a cigar between her fingers.

  “They’re your cigars.”

  “No shit they’re my cigars,” I grunt, sniffing at the scent of one of my Cuban’s hanging in the air. “Put it down. I don’t smoke in my house, and you’re not smoking period.”

  “Fine, I’ll go outside,” she says petulantly.

  “You’re not smoking at all, Lacey,” I growl.

  “I’m an adult, I can do what I want,” she snaps back. “Guess your date wasn’t much fun.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your date,” she mutters, making me glower as she takes another puff of the damn cigar. “You’re home early.”

  “You set off the fire alarm.”

  Her shoulders shrug. “Oops, sorry. I opened the window though.”

  “Lacey,” I growl as I move towards her. “Put down the goddamn cigar and fucking look at me.”

  She sighs as she puts the stogie in a crystal ashtray by the window and turns. Almost instantly, my cock thickens and hardens, because Lacey’s not just wearing a robe. She’s wearing it over a pair of black lacy panties and matching bra, and the robe is wide fucking open. My teeth grind as my balls swell with lust.

  “What are you doing,” I hiss.

  “Nothing,” she throws back with that same bratty tone. “Just hanging out.”


  “You need to put some fucking clothes on.” The words almost choke in my throat. Fuck does she look incredible and tempting. The robe is wide open revealing her perfect body, her long legs, and her cock-aching curves. The lacy black panties cling between her legs, and fuck me, the bra is basically see-through. My eyes land on the hard, dusky nipples that I can plainly see through the gauzy cups, and I can feel my cock pulsing against the front of my dress pants.

  “I’m already wearing clothes.’

  “Now,” I growl.

  Lacey chews on her lower lip, which somehow looks both innocent and staggeringly seductive at the same time. “It’s too hot, I’m fine in this.” I watch her swallow, her eyes moving over my face like she’s trying to gauge my reaction. She’s playing fucking games. But games like these, with a man like me, are very dangerous ones to be playing.

  “You’re walking a thin line here, Lacey.”

  “Am I?”

  “Whatever you’re playing at, you need to knock it the fuck off.”

  “Says who, you?”

  My brow deepens and I step closer to her. “Yes, me. Me who caught you breaking and entering in my house, stealing my shit, and hanging out with a fucking boy with drugs,” I bark. “So while you’re staying here, you will follow my goddamn rules and do as I fucking say!”

  My muscles clench, and there’s hot emotion in my voice. Lacey stiffens when I say it, but she pushes it aside or outright ignores it. She’s still trying to play games.

  “Well, tough. You’re not my daddy.”

  “Well maybe you fucking need a daddy!” I roar. She gasps as I cross the room towards her. “Maybe you need some fucking discipline!”

  Lacey’s face is deeply red, and I’m fucking hard. Fuck, I’m so hard it’s almost painful. My cock aches and throbs against my pants.

  “You know, Lacey. If you want to play stupid games, I could just tell your aunt about the drugs.”