by Cara Dee
I feel like a teenager. The concept of making out is strange to me. Has been, for too long.
Her mouth moves perfectly with mine. I forget to breathe until my lungs burn with the need for air. Only then do I suck in a much-needed breath. I don't even notice I've left my chair. Half leaning over her stunning little body, I devour her succulent lips and lose control.
She doesn’t. "Easy there, baby boy." She gasps and moans, and then I'm pushed back into my swivel chair by a stiletto on my crotch. I wipe my mouth and toss her a heavy look before glancing down. Her footwear is nothing short of a lethal weapon, and she presses it along my erection until I groan. "Can you play nice?"
I hiss. "Yes, Miss Angel."
"Good." She fluffs her hair and collects her breath, lust evident in her rosy cheeks and emerald eyes. "As delicious as you are, I didn’t come here for that."
I smile, and in another moment where I can't control myself, I lean forward and kiss the top of her hand.
It earns me a smirk, and the stiletto slips off my lap. Thank goodness.
"Back on topic." She twirls a finger. "Other than being a father, what are you good at?"
I blow out a breath and gather my thoughts. "Being a lawyer."
She makes a derisive little noise at that. "If you think about your profession on your deathbed, you haven't lived life."
Good grief. My mouth twitches in amusement. That has got to be the most adorable thing she's ever said.
"Spoken like a true millennial."
She smiles. "Maybe. Are you happy, though?"
My amusement fades, leaving me cold. "No, Ma'am."
"Who makes you happy?"
Abby, you, and Ryan. "My daughter."
I think she can tell there are more people I care for deeply, though I do not believe she suspects she and her husband are two of them. I'm replaceable. They're not.
"I have hatred and jealousy in me." I clearly have no verbal filter. For the love of God, I need to shut the hell up now. Enough with the sharing.
"Towards who?"
Her informal way of speaking is just a reminder of how much I truly do need to shut up and put distance between us. We're worlds apart, and she wouldn’t understand. She's so carefree, casual, and brazen. If she's had any demons, she's fought them and won. Not everyone is as fortunate.
"I genuinely don’t want to discuss it," I say as respectfully as I can muster.
I've gotten my emotions in check for now, so I ease away slightly and scrub at my face.
Someone has to be responsible.
Someone needs to be able to leave this office and not have lipstick on his face. I wipe my mouth again, satisfied there's no trace of red left.
"I see." She studies me intently. "You haven't asked why I came here today."
"I think we both know I don't function very well around you and Ryan," I point out. She grins lazily. "I'm certainly curious, though."
She glances back at my photos. "You came by the bar when Ryan and I were in the Rockies." Oh, of course, they're hikers or…outdoorsy. Could we be much more different? Her gaze slides back to me. "You also check our chat up to a dozen times a day—"
"How would you know that?" I ask abruptly.
Mirth flashes in her eyes. "Because every time you log in, you're listed as online."
So that’s what that green dot is for. Dammit. Unfortunately, there's no way she'll believe I'd be on that app for other reasons. She had to teach me how it worked.
"Do you miss us, Greg?"
More than I can describe.
"Does it matter?" I wonder.
She shakes her head slowly. "Under these circumstances, I…no, I guess not. I came for answers, and perhaps it was a mistake, but…" For one quiet moment, I get to see her unguarded and vulnerable. She looks down and swallows hard, and it fucking tears at me. "I'm angry, for one. We inflicted pain for the worst reasons imaginable. Because you lied to us."
"That’s on me."
"Even so. It ruins the memories. The trust is broken."
"I'm very sorry, Angel." Remorse fills me to the brim.
She quirks half a smile and shrugs lightly. "I feel worse for your wife." That’s a slap in the face, and I watch silently while she swings her legs over the desk with ease and jumps down on the other side. "We miss you—very much." And the punches keep on coming. "Discovering you're married probably wasn’t the biggest shock, but it stings to have it confirmed—and to know that you have to hide who you are." She puts on her jacket. "So…I guess that was a kiss goodbye. We'll delete our chat, okay?" Resting her palms on the desk, she faces me head on. In the meantime, I'm trying not to cower away like the weak bastard I am. "You can do better. For yourself and for the people you love."
She wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t agree. Because she wouldn’t understand.
Rounding the desk once more, she leans down and drops a featherlight kiss to my cheek. "Take care, Mr. Stanford."
Funny, it sounds like an insult coming from her.
I touch my cheek, the spot she kissed, and just stare at the door. Fortunately for me, numbness sets in, far better than crippling pain. Although, I'm sure that'll follow soon enough.
A much less attractive face appears in the doorway: my youngest brother.
I clear my throat and straighten in my seat. "What can I do for you, Seth?"
"Papers to sign." He walks in and hands me a file. "Pages one, nine, fourteen, and the last one."
I grab my pen, ready to drill some legal documents into my brain if it can erase the image of Angel walking out of my life.
"Um…Greg?"
I frown and peer over at him.
He coughs uncomfortably and averts his eyes. "You have lipstick marks on your cheek."
Son of a bitch. Shrugging out of my suit jacket, I grab a packet of tissues from my inner pocket and wipe the makeup off my stubble. "It's not what it looks like."
"It never is, is it?"
Touch of Trouble
Chapter 1
Kayla Brandon
When a waiter arrives at our cabana on the beach with breakfast, I stay quiet as Daddy takes care of everything. Instead I focus on tying the two ends of my white bikini around my neck, and then get my hair up in a high, messy bun at the top of my head.
I do not want to get sunscreen in my hair later. It gets all sticky. After a week in the sun, my hair is more red than brown, and a few golden highlights have appeared.
This is our last day in Mexico, and Daddy's family flew home yesterday. It was fun to see them again, especially his sisters, Lissa and Sydney, who've warmed up to me since last time. At first they were wary of our fourteen-year age gap, but it's all good now.
I've tried to make Daddy extend our stay, but he's set on our flying to Oregon tomorrow. No matter how much I've bribed, whined, bitched, begged, and bargained, he stands firm. He wants us to get it out of the way so we can move on.
Silly man. Why can't we move on without seeing my family? Ugh.
Especially that damn Amanda.
"Come here and eat your breakfast, Kayla."
Scooting closer to the middle of the large, U-shaped couch that basically takes up the entire cabana, I end up next to him, and he's got everything set up on the small table in front of us.
"Do you want me to cut the crusts off your toast?"
I nod and lean my head on his shoulder. "Yes, please." It's pretty early, so I'm still tired.
I intend to make the most of our last day, though, which was why I dragged Daddy down here before eight o'clock. He didn’t protest; he just changed into his black board shorts, grabbed the book he's reading, and then we headed down to the lobby, booked ourselves a cabana, and ordered breakfast.
"Something wrong, sweetheart?"
I place a hand on my tummy and pout up at him. "Maybe I'm getting sick."
"Nice try." His mouth twists into a smirk. "Does that mean you're too sick to go swimming later?"
Dammit. I scowl and look at my plate, grab
bing a triangle of toast he's prepared with butter and jam. I adore swimming here, 'cause the water is so gorgeous. Crystal clear, turquoise, and the sand is almost completely white. Also, if I'm sick, we won't be able to scout for a location for our wedding next summer.
Nicholas's proposal in Venice was so beautiful that it made me cry; it was romantic, heartfelt, and made this girl's dreams come true. Maybe it was clichéd to some: a romantic dinner at a family-owned restaurant, a gondola ride under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset, and lastly a proposal back at the hotel room where he went down on one knee and asked me to marry him, asked me to be his wife, his baby girl, and his love forever…but perhaps with our less-than-ordinary lifestyle, that proposal was perfect for us. It certainly was for me.
My next dream is to get married on a beach, which he said he'd like to do, too. So, we decided that we're going to invite our closest friends and family down here to Mexico next summer for a few days of festivities. It'll also be around the one-year anniversary of the day we met.
"Some food might make me feel better." I backtrack and smile sweetly.
He chuckles and takes a sip from his coffee as he unfolds the newspaper he ordered to be delivered with breakfast. "Somehow I'm not surprised you'd say that." He flips a page, all while I worry the pristinely white sofa's gonna be all smudgy from the paper. "You should probably watch yourself, though. There's only so much manipulation I can take."
Oh, crap.
"I love you." I make sure to maintain my sweet smile.
He doesn’t turn my way, but I do see the edges of his mouth slanting up a little. "Mmhmm. Love you too, baby girl."
I huff and cram some toast into my mouth, realizing he still won't budge.
Not only are we definitely going to Oregon tomorrow, but I'm evidently healthy as a horse.
There's just no playing Nicholas Ford.
Then again, was there ever? From the start of our relationship, I've known he's the perfect man and Daddy for me. He's a strict sweetheart; he lets me roam around and talk to people, because I love that—I'm a people person—but he doesn’t take my bullshit.
There's an invisible leash, which he holds on to 24/7. Regardless of being my fiancé or my Daddy, he's in charge. The only difference, really, is that he gives me more leeway when we're Nicholas and Kayla.
Vacation spots blur the lines; I'm good at throwing out the Daddy card, because it feels so natural. At the same time, he coddles me more when we're in a foreign place, so we're even. But at home, it's more distinct. We have separate times for play, though everything remains negotiable. We prefer it flexible.
"You know," I muse a few minutes later, "if I'd had more time in Mexico, I would've done my Christmas shopping here. That would make for some fun presents, huh?"
He doesn’t miss a beat. "Too bad you did your shopping back in November, then—and even before that."
My shoulders slump in defeat. "May I go swimming now, please?"
He folds his newspaper and puts it aside, then sighs and places an arm around me. "You've barely eaten anything." There's a frown in his voice. "Do you want me to order something else?"
Feeling bad, I shake my head and swipe up another triangle of toast. "No, thank you. This is really good." No lie. I just crave the water. Swimming is fun, especially when Daddy joins. "I'll eat some more. Then can I go?" I peer up at him.
He smiles and kisses my nose. "After you've let the meal settle, yes. We need to get sunscreen on you, too."
I nod, tilting my head up some more, and brush my lips over his scruffy jaw.
It's not often I see him with scruff.
"You need sunscreen, too." I softly run my fingers through his fairly short hair. In his chestnut brown mess, slightly rumpled from sleep, there're a few strands of silver, and I happen to find them incredibly sexy.
Great. Now I'm getting horny.
*
"Is something wrong, Daddy?" I ask, swimming circles around him. "You seem distracted."
There're pretty fish by his feet, but I don’t wanna get too close. Just to look at them. Not touch. Or get bitten and die.
"Definitely not wrong." He pulls me close and makes me squeal when he dunks us underwater.
"Hey!" I splutter and laugh and push my hair back. He just grins. "That wasn’t funny." But I'm laughing…
"I can see that." He chuckles.
Humming happily, I lock my feet around his hips and lean back in the ocean and disappear under the surface for just a couple seconds. Then I hoist myself up again and wipe some water off my face. "I was thinking… What kind of girl would make Rio happy?"
When Evangeline called a few days ago and told me that Brayden had finally surrendered to Mark, I'd nearly cried with joy for them. They deserve all the happiness they can find, and now I want the same for Rio. He often looks so lonely to me.
"Planning another matchmaking project?" He squeezes my bottom and pulls me closer so I can feel his semi-hard cock. Good thing there aren't people around! I'm all for public play, but this is kind of a family resort.
"I hope so." I trace the drops of water on his sun-kissed shoulders with my fingers. "I've barely even seen him play at the club." All I know is that he is very strict. At Switch, subs call him Master Kelly or Master Rio…and if they don’t?
Yikes.
It's when only Daddy's around—or my subbie friends—that I dare to refer to Rio by his first name. At the same time, there's something gentle about him. It's tough to explain. He can be funny and carefree; other times he's quiet and withdrawn.
"Perhaps he's not ready yet." Daddy brushes some water drops away from my cheek, and I nestle my face into his palm. "He hasn't been back for that long."
True. Rio's job must've given him nightmares. I can't imagine traveling to some jungle—in hostile territory—and offering so much of myself to help others. It's beyond noble, but I'd be so scared! I'm not that gutsy.
Rio clearly is, and I want to see him happy.
"What kind of relationship did he have with his fiancée?" I'm curious. Rio's fiancée…I know she died in some kind of accident several years ago, that’s about it. Her death was what caused Rio to uproot his life and join Doctors Without Borders.
"Vanilla."
"Really?" That's a surprise. I don’t know Rio that well yet, but to me he's so…Master-y.
"Most people believe he's still mourning her…" He slowly moves us toward the shore. We're pretty far out. My feet can't even reach the ocean floor. "That’s not necessarily all there is to it. They were having problems when she died." Oh, that’s so sad. "About ten years ago, he went through the same thing I did when I settled for Amanda." I grimace at that, to which Daddy smiles ruefully and nips at my jaw. "Rio came back from a medical seminar in New York and said it was time for him to settle down. Before New York, he'd been raving about how single life suited him, so perhaps something happened there."
I scrunch my nose. "Didn’t you ask him about it?"
"I asked; he said he didn’t want to talk about it."
Ugh. Men. "You should've pushed." I playfully smack his arm. "That’s what friends do."
"It was ten years ago, baby girl." He laughs quietly and nuzzles my neck. By now, we're closer to the beach, and the water would reach my chest if I let go of him. "Whatever happened back then isn't exactly breaking news today."
"Okay, okay." I sigh. "Speaking of New York, I wanna call Chelsea when we get back to the room." She's my friend from New York, and she's the one who told me I had to visit Switch if I ever came to San Francisco. Best advice ever! She's joining us in Cali soon.
"And right now, I don’t want to talk at all." He reaches up to cup my breasts. It makes me giggle and squirm. "Let's get back to the cabana."
Keeping my arms and legs locked around him, he carries me out of the water, and I feel his hardening cock the entire time. It's pressing against my pussy, exciting me in the best ways.
"Do you want to play Go Fish?" I ask innocently.
He laughs
a little darkly as we enter the cabana and closes the white fabric behind us. "No. That’s not what I had in mind." After lowering me to one side of the big sofa, he pulls down his trunks, exposing himself to me, but he doesn’t stay that way. From the other side of the sofa, he grabs a towel and wraps it around his hips. "You haven't forgotten your safeword, have you?"
My mouth forms an "o" as my cheeks heat up. I only need a safeword if we're going to play rough.
"N-no, Daddy." My voice is all shaky. Arousal rushes around in my tummy, and I get butterflies. Horny butterflies. "It's red." One of the first things I discovered with Daddy is that he likes reluctance sometimes. He wants me to fight him. Sort of like a rape fantasy, only a tad gentler and with no violent intentions.
Usually, he wants it when I've been a bad girl. He fucks me into a good little girl again, and it always works. But today…perhaps he wants to let off some steam? Because I haven't been bad, have I?
We do have a few trying days ahead of us, so we might need this. And I'll never back down from playtime that allows me to sink deeper into the Little I really am. It cleanses me, in a way.
"Time for your nap, sweetheart." He sits down on the edge of the sofa and reaches around me to untie my bikini top. I can see in his eyes that he's started playing. He needs a reason now—a reason to go rough. "When you wake up, I'll order lunch."
I scowl as he tosses my bikini on the table. "I'm not sleepy." I fold my arms over my chest and jut out my chin. If he wants a brat, I'll give him one! I don’t exactly have to struggle to find the brat in me. She's very much alive and kicking, still mad about our going to Oregon tomorrow. "Stop." I whine when he pulls down my bikini bottoms. "Daddy, I can do it myself!" I shove at him petulantly.
"Be quiet," he snaps.
I stick out my tongue at him. "You dummy."
He raises a brow, then points to the floor in front of the table. "Get over there. Now."
Sulking, I make my way to the floor and give him another scowl over my shoulder.