Dirty Daddies: 2020 Anniversary Anthology

by Maren Smith

  Amy

  I didn’t have another class after that one. Monday was my short day. All I wanted to do after that kiss was get home to my vibrator and replay the entirety of our two encounters while waiting for his call.

  That’s probably what I would have done if my parents had not finally gotten married two weeks prior. Instead, I got home to the apartment I had shared with my mom to find her and my dad standing in the middle of it, surrounded by piles of boxes.

  Just the sight exhausted me. My shoulder slumped as I looked at the emptiness where all her things used to be. I only had until the end of the week to finish moving out too, and I still had no idea where I was going to go.

  Mom came up to me, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. “Amy, honey. You have to be fully moved out by Saturday. Your dad took the day off so we could help you move, and we still don't know where you are moving to. If you don't make a decision, you're gonna end up moving in with us. Is that what you want?”

  “No!” I screamed it a little too loudly, taking us both by surprise.

  Mom was right. I needed to make a choice. I had options. Three of my friends and fellow book club members had offered me a room: Belle, who I was closest to, in age if not personality; Anna, who’d offered me a room in her and Spencer's huge ass house; and Delia, but she lived the farthest away from school.

  And then there was moving back in with my now married parents who were still in their honeymoon phase and couldn't keep their hands off each other. I was happy for them and all, but, yuck. No thank you. Not an option.

  With them staring at me, I was forced to make a split-second decision.

  Anna was out. Not only were she and Spencer also still in that honeymoon phase, she was about on my last nerve with her judgmental mothering. I loved her and all, but my current situation being what it was with the professor, any kind of close proximity to her for an extended amount of time was a big fat no.

  Belle would have been my choice on any day but today. I loved her, and we were close in age with a lot in common, but she tended to be a rule follower, and I was about to break all the rules.

  That left Delia. My loud, mouthy, smart-assed friend who was always ready to throw down for her friends in a split second. The first one to diffuse conflict, and the one to always lean on the side of romance and hot guys. She was growing on me. I felt a little awkward taking her up on it, but she had offered, and Delia was nothing if not genuine.

  With my parents looking on expectantly, I pulled out my phone and texted her.

  Hey, so does your offer of a room still stand?

  Depends. Can you still cook?

  Delia was notoriously bad in the kitchen. The girl could burn water.

  I'm no Emeril, but I'm better than you, I teased.

  I'll take it!

  Great. Is today okay? My dad is here with his truck and I'm done with classes.

  Get your butt and your DILFy dad over here.

  I groaned. Don't say that in front of mom. She'll kick your butt now that they are married.

  I'm not afraid of Sue! I could totally take her.

  Shaking my head, I laughed. Delia was ridiculous and so much fun. I stuck my phone in my pocket. She’s exactly what I needed right now.

  “Do we have a destination?” my dad asked, raising his brow as he waited for instructions.

  “Yup!” I grabbed the nearest box and headed for the door. “We're going to Delia’s!”

  My mom looked a little surprised by my choice but didn’t say anything, and we all worked quickly to load my dad's truck. I only took my personal belongings, and the kitchen stuff. Delia had a fully furnished apartment already, but knowing her, I was certain that didn't include the kitchen beyond a coffee pot, some wine glasses, paper plates and a handful of flatware.

  An hour later we pulled up at Delia’s small condo to find her sitting out front, with a soda next to her, and next week's chosen book club book on her Kindle.

  “You're here!” She bounced excitedly as I got out of my car and came running to squish me in an exuberant hug. “Ahhh! I'm so happy you're here! I've never had a roommate before! This is gonna be so much fun! We can do face masks and margaritas and binge watch trashy reality TV, and stuff our faces with junk food and you can teach me how to cook, or just cook for me, because I'm pretty much hopeless, and it will be like a never-ending book club meeting with just the two of us! We are going to be besties!”

  I let her squish hug me, taking the opportunity to whisper in her ear. “That all sounds great. But for right now, can you hurry and help me unpack so I can get my parents out of here?”

  Rearing back, she held me at arms’ length as she searched my face with scrutinizing eyes. Then she smiled, a mischievous looking wide grin that was classic Delia, finally letting go of me to grab a box from the bed of my dad's truck.

  “Let me show you to your room.”

  It took the four of us less than two hours to get me unpacked, which meant it was barely after lunchtime when my parents finally left. That meant I had hours still before Reed would call, and the urge to pass the time with my battery-operated boyfriend had passed. At least for now. I couldn't let that be the first thing I did in my new house. Not with Delia in the other room.

  I was sitting on my bed staring at the clock, willing the hands to move faster when Delia leaned against the door jamb, a quizzical look on her face.

  “I'm excited to have you here, but I have to be honest. I thought for sure you'd end up at Belle's.”

  I looked guiltily at the mattress. “You sell yourself short,” I muttered.

  “Myself ain’t got nothing to do with it,” Delia countered, crossing the room to stand in front of me. “Belle's place is bigger and closer to the college. And she's closer to your age. At book club, you two are like two peas in a pod.”

  I shrugged, and she sat down next to me, searching my face. “You're different lately. Something is up. And I'll bet money it has something to do with that sexy ass professor of yours. You want to play the naughty schoolgirl to his strict professor daddy, don't you?”

  I couldn’t lie for shit. I’d give myself away just by trying, so I said nothing. Delia, being Delia came to her own conclusions.

  She looked me up and down, and a knowing grin settled on her face. “You naughty girl!” she gasped. “And good for you. For what it's worth, I think you should go for it. That man is fine as fuck, and if I have learned anything this year, it’s that sometimes you find love in strange places.” She finally paused for a breath and sighed. “If you’re next, then Jasper's so-called curse might actually be a thing. Hopefully, it keeps going until it hits all of us and maybe I'll be the next one to get myself a hot ass professor daddy. Only I don't think I want a professor, that's not really my type. I'm not even sure what my type is, to be honest. I just want a man with big, hard hands and kind eyes. Preferably someone who can cook, too, because lord knows I suck at it, and I like to eat!”

  “You need a chef daddy,” I said, throwing back my head and howling with laughter. This was exactly why I had chosen to move in with Delia over my other friends. She knew when to pry, and when not to, and she could diffuse any situation with humor. She was exactly what I needed right now

  “Speaking of Chef Daddies,” Delia announced, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, “Southern Chef is on. Wanna watch? That Milo Calhoun is one hot daddy, I'll tell you what.”

  “Ew, the ‘put a little south in your mouth’ guy? You don't even cook. Why do you watch cooking shows?”

  “Cooking shows are just a cultured version of reality TV, that’s why, and Milo Calhoun… well he could put his south in my mouth anytime!”

  “Oh my god!” I covered my mouth with my hand as I snickered. “You're so bad. Seriously though. You work at a restaurant. You hate cooking, and you watch cooking shows in your spare time. It makes no sense.”

  “Girl.” She drew out the word, slowly shaking her head back and forth. “No. It makes perfect sense. A man who c
an cook a meal is sexy as fuck. I get the chills watching them make these beautiful dishes from nothing. It’s art. Truly. And the way they command a kitchen… it doesn't take much imagination to picture them whipping me into shape. I should know, I imagine it often. Usually in the privacy of my own bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

  I knew what she meant. “So, hook up with one of the chefs you like at work. Sure at least one of them has to ring that sexy Daddy bell for you. Let him take you home and ‘whip you into shape,’ as you put it.”

  Delia rolled her eyes. “Well, let’s see.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Marco is gay, and Pierre is twice my age and married. So, while they are fun to watch, it's not quite the same. That's why I have my TV. You have no idea how many hot-ass daddies there are on the Food Network these days.”

  “Yeah, okay. I guess I just figured someone who watches as many cooking shows as you do would be able to handle basic cooking skills like, oh I don't know, boiling water.”

  “Oh, you hush.” Plucking a pillow off the bed, she threw it at me. I caught it.

  “C'mon and spend some time with me,” she bossed, and I obligingly followed her out of my new bedroom to the living room couch. “Now I only have time for two episodes before I have to get ready for work and that is barely gonna cover my ddm.”

  “Ddm?”

  “Daily Dose of Milo.” she answered, turning the TV on, and sinking backward into her oversized couch.

  What the hell, I figured, as I made myself comfortable. By the time she left for work, Reed would be just getting off, and I needed something to do from now until then or I was going to go crazy.

  Chapter Four

  Reed

  It was the longest day in the history of long days. Every time a bell rang, and a class ended, I was pretty sure I got more excited than my students.

  As soon as it was five o’clock, I locked up my office with my jacket and briefcase in my hand and hightailed it to my car. I was dialing even as I pulled out of the parking lot. I had gone through my roster during lunch and made sure to put her number in my phone.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, baby girl,” I greeted her, already picturing all the dirty things I wanted to do to her tonight.

  “Hey there, professor.” Her tone was coy and inviting, and I could picture her cheeky grin teasing me. I could picture a hell of a lot more than that, too.

  “Meet me at my house in twenty minutes.” My motor had been revving all day. I wanted her, and I wanted her now.

  “Wait, your house? Tonight?” she squeaked. “I thought you were just gonna call! I can’t come over tonight! I have schoolwork to do!”

  “Today was the first day,” I deadpanned.

  “You know how unreasonable college professors are. Half of them assigned work last week before classes even started. The other half want you to come over at the drop of a hat.”

  “Ha, ha,” I deadpanned again, but she wasn't exaggerating. Many of my new colleagues had done just that. Still… “If you’ve had those assignments for a week, shouldn't they be done already? What have you been doing all afternoon? I checked your class schedule. You had no other classes today.”

  “I moved. It’s a long story.” Her tone was defensive but also a little reluctant. I was pretty sure that that wasn't the full story. I was also sure that I didn’t currently care. About any of it.

  “My house,” I repeated. “Twenty minutes. I'll tutor you.”

  “I… uh… I guess I could do that,” she stammered. “It's not really the kind of work I need a tutor for. But yeah, I guess I could do it at your place.”

  “Little girl,” I growled. “I am almost home. And I am not a man who likes to be kept waiting.”

  “Ok ok, geesh. I'll be there soon.”

  I met her at the door a full thirty minutes later, ten minutes after the time I had specified. Having spent the day sporting an erection I couldn’t get rid of because of her, I was not particularly amused.

  She walked up smiling and went in for a kiss. I accepted that, but the minute the door shut behind her and she reached for my crotch, I pulled back.

  “What do you mean you moved?” I asked. “Is that why your schoolwork isn't done? Have you eaten yet?”

  Her face fell. “I… I didn't have time to eat,” she stammered. “I thought you were just gonna call, and I didn't expect you to want me to come over.”

  I frowned, as protective as I was impatient. The thought of her not taking care of herself grated against my inner daddy tendencies. “We need to talk, and it's much safer to talk here than on campus.”

  “It’s even safer to talk on the phone,” she retorted.

  The sass was strong with this one. My eyes narrowed as I glared at her, only just stopping myself from grabbing her auburn ponytail and bending her over my knee right then and there. I could tell she wasn't ready, but she brought things out in me I hadn't felt in a long time. I would have fun breaking her, and she, in turn, would keep me on my toes. We could be good together. I knew it instinctively, but she was still my student. Being with her was breaking all the rules, and I was usually a rule follower.

  What was it about her that made me want to throw my rules out the window?

  “Touché,” I finally answered. “Forgive me for wanting to see you. I haven’t eaten either. Let's go into the dining room. I’ll order a pizza and you can do your schoolwork while we wait.”

  A funny expression on her face, she followed me into the kitchen and took a seat when I gestured to my small kitchen table. My house was nothing fancy, but it was clean and well decorated, and it worked for me.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I offered, grabbing myself a beer.

  “Do you have any wine?”

  “On a school night?”

  “I’m not twelve.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrows pointedly, gesturing at my own drink of choice.

  “My work for the evening is done. From the sound of it, yours isn’t even started. You still don't have your books out.”

  “I'll do it later.” She shrugged. “I really didn't come here to do homework.”

  “Books. Now. And no wine for you, little girl.” I knew I sounded like an overbearing stick in the mud, but I couldn't help it. She was so adorable and so naughty, and she brought out all of my protective nurturing instincts.

  “You know, I could have not drank and done homework at home,” she muttered. “I thought you wanted to have some fun.”

  Standing, she sauntered toward me, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes.

  I should have stopped her. God help me, I didn't. I just stood there, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of me with her hands already at my waist.

  My mouth went dry as she slowly tugged my leather belt from its loops. It dropped to the floor with a crack, bringing instantly to mind the sound it would make as I lashed it across her naughty, bare bottom. She undid my zipper with one hand. My cock was hard and reaching for her as she tugged it from the cotton of my boxer briefs.

  There was no such thing as suppressing my desire around her. I didn’t even want to try, especially not when she gazed up at me with those hungry, bedroom eyes of hers and licked her lips.

  “Suck it,” I ordered. “Put Daddy's cock in your mouth.”

  This time the title gave her no hesitation. Her lips curved into a seductive smile as she scooted in on her knees, angling to get closer.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered thickly. Her lips closed around the tip of my cock, and I grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her head forward, forcing her to take me deeper into her mouth.

  The enthusiasm with which she obeyed tied me in knots. I could tell, as she licked, sucked, and pumped my cock in her tight hand, that she was inexperienced, but that was okay. I loved what she was doing, and a Daddy should want to teach his girl how to please him.

  She hit a rhythm and I tipped my head back, moaning as I tightened my grip on her h
air until my palm was against her scalp. “That's it, baby girl, just like that. You're going to make Daddy come.”

  And she did. With both hands now tangled in her dark red curls, guiding her as she deepthroated my cock, I came in her mouth, filling it.

  When every last drop had been sucked off, I released her, expecting her to start gagging or run for the sink as most subs with limited experience tended to do. Instead, she rocked back on her heels, grinned up at me and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

  “What was that you were saying about homework?” she asked innocently, clearly thinking I would detour my plans for the night now that she’d so successfully distracted me.

  “Nice try, little girl.” Grabbing her forearm, I helped her to her feet. “I was saying you need to do your schoolwork, and that hasn’t changed.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She pouted, but I smacked her ass hard enough to make her jump and fastened my pants with my opposite hand. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.”

  “I’ve been here before,” she reminded me. “Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing your bedroom again.”

  “Maybe later, if you can manage to be good. For now, I think I’ll show you my study. It’s where I like to take care of naughty little girls who don’t listen to instructions.”

  Of course he had a study. Of course he did. And what was all this nonsense about being naughty? I had come over here to be naughty! With him. And he was way more interested in being all ‘eat your dinner, do your homework.’ I had a father already, thank you very much. Frankly, cop outranked professor.

  He’s not acting like a father; he’s acting like a daddy. It was Delia’s voice I heard in my head.

  Yeah, well… Delia was a bad freaking influence, and I didn’t want a daddy anyway, except maybe in the bedroom.

  Still, on my last trip here, I had really only seen the bedroom and bathroom, so I let him lead me to the study.

  As soon as the door opened, I gasped. The rest of the house was light and bright, a lot of blues and tans and white for a beach type contemporary feel. Masculine but not overly so, except in this room. This room had dark walls and floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining three of them. A massive antique desk sat in the exact center of the room. Its surface was mostly clear, except for a pencil holder, an expensive looking paperweight and a black leather planner. Any person with a mildly kinky brain would find it obvious that the top was bare for a reason. I needed only to look to the left of the desk, where two items sat propped against the wall—a yardstick and a cane—to find my proof.