As I gaze into the mirror at the dopey, stunned look on my face, the commander’s words echo in my head: “Your generosity is appreciated, colonel. However, I have heard of your . . . reputation from the men; how you have a certain knack with women. So, let me say this to you straight: hands off my daughter. If I hear the slightest whisper of any funny business, you’re going to find yourself shipped off to Afghanistan faster than you can say ‘whoops.’”
My hard-on droops at the thought of it: being sent miles away from home, into dangerous enemy territory once again, away from my friends, my family – hell – my son, and all because I got horny over some curvy chick.
I turn on the sink, dip my hands in the cool water and splash some on my face. And yet, if something happened one night . . . One chance night where we just so happened to find ourselves in bed with each other – who would have to know?
My dick is hard again, but I’m shaking my head. I leave the bathroom, Cheeto bag in hand. No. No matter how hot I find Emma, I can’t risk it. It’s not worth it.
Flopped on my bed in my room, between handfuls of the crunchy orange things, I text a few girls. First I try Kiana and Jennifer. Then, a minute or so later, I impatiently text Yvonne.
I’m soon rewarded. Literally a second later, the response to my “hey” comes back: “Can I come over now?” To which I respond: “The door’s open. I’m in my room.”
And then I wait. It was pretty ballsy, my not even going to meet her at the front door. But I’ve been subtly lowering Yvonne’s expectations since day one. The first time we hung out was at a McDonald’s. I even made her pay for her Big Mac herself. Since then, it’s been all house hangs and chilling in my room. A few minutes later, sure enough, my phone beeps to show her message: “On my way”.
I take another handful of Cheetos and grin at the ceiling. Looks like today won’t be a total shit show after all.
***
Yvonne arrives late, as usual. Although, to be fair, we never really established when she was supposed to get here. Still, by the time my rickety old bedroom door creaks open, I’m more than ready for her.
She’s wearing a modest white button-up with plain black pants.
“What – we gonna roleplay teacher-student?” I joke, rising so I can shove her against the wall. She smirks.
“Just got off work.”
This is my cue to mash my lips over hers and have our bodies do the rest of the talking. Her tongue is slow and lazy, but mine is dancing everywhere, thrusting in her lips the way my dick is going to be thrusting in her other lips in a few minutes. I rip off her ponytail scrunchie. Her long, dark hair flutters down in shiny cascades. When I start devouring her neck, the moans start up.
Huh. I’m getting hard without even getting to her pussy yet. I’d forgotten how noisy Yvonne was. I unbutton her shirt and rip off her bra. When I start stroking her breasts, the moans get even louder. She’s got nice pert little titties, perfect brown mouthfuls for me. I suck and suck and she moans and moans.
Opening my eyes, my gaze shoots to the partially open door, but then I close them again. It would be kind of funny if Emma heard us. Besides, we’re not being that noisy – yet. No, the noisiness comes later. After I’ve kissed my way all over Yvonne’s tan, heaving body. After I’ve kneaded her ass and titties until she’s shaking. After I’ve ripped off her pants, discarded her panties.
Yes, the moans really start up when my finger slips into her pussy. She’s already dripping wet, but I’m just getting started. I twirl my finger in her with one hand while I squeeze her breast with the other. It’s a slow, lazy sort of rhythm, and still, she moans like an animal in heat. It makes me feel oddly satisfied and derisive at the same time, the fact that I have such control over this poor woman. So, there’s nothing to do but up my pace and see how loud I can make her moan. Turns out, it’s pretty fucking loud. I don’t even have my dick in her but my finger alone is enough to do the job. Yvonne’s twisted in agony, her head thrown back, her eyes closed. The moans almost sound like they’re coming from somewhere else.
I’m pretty hard myself just at the sight of this deliriously pleasured woman. Yet, whenever I close my eyes, there’s someone else I’m seeing. Someone I can’t quite make out. When I open my eyes again, however, my dick has waited long enough.
I rip my fingers out and shove my dick in her. She cries out, and we both know it was what she really needed. And then, as I’m pounding her and her moans become howls, our bodies twist together with pleasure. Somewhere far away, I hear my rickety old bedroom door creak.
Chapter Three - Emma
Maybe I should just leave, find another place to stay. On my bed with the blanket wrapped around me like a mummy, I try to imagine where else I would go. Definitely not to Dad and Margot, who would demand proof – testimony from witnesses and evidence that nowhere else in a 500-mile radius would work before they’d let me stay with them. Gillian probably wouldn’t work either. All she could offer me was a living room with a sheet partition, after all. But wouldn’t that be better than this?
I stand up and walk over to the mirror, letting the towel slip down and staring at my naked form. There. That was what Luke saw. Ha! “Saw” – that was what Luke gaped at.
In the mirror, my cheeks are blushing furiously. I feel so humiliated and ashamed and yet . . . No, there’s no denying it – I feel turned on too. There was no mistaking that look on Luke’s face. That actually enraptured look as he took me in. Not to mention that he himself, with his chiseled face and close-cut hair, was even sexier than I’d remembered.
Frowning, I return to flop on my bed, the wooden thing groaning as much as I feel like doing myself. I’m being ridiculous. What just happened – Luke spotting me naked in the bathroom – was embarrassing and horrible. If I have any sense at all, I’d get out of here as fast as I can.
I close my eyes. But as my thoughts quiet themselves, something else slides into the quiet. Something that sounds like . . . moaning. I turn on to the other side of the bed. But as soon as I stop moving and the bed stops creaking, I hear it again. No, there’s no denying it. Yes, that sound is definitely, definitely moaning. Female moaning at that.
In a sort of rapt haze, I make my way to my dresser, then take out and pull on my droopy knee-length Minnie Mouse sweatshirt. Now sufficiently covered, I follow the sound of the moans.
Luke’s probably watching porn or something. I shouldn’t even be doing this, but something in me is determined. I have to find out. So, down the stairs I go, the moans growing louder all the while. They’re coming from the room at the end of the hallway, the one with the scratched-up door open a crack. His room.
The closer I get, the more real I’m sure the moans are. They can’t just be from a porn video; Luke’s whole bed is jangling, for God’s sake. And yet, I can’t quite believe that there is a real woman in there. That Luke would be so inconsiderate to – on my first day here, no less! – not only invite a girl over, but to have loud sex with his door open as well.
As I near the door, one last voice of reason and resistance reminds me: You should not be doing this. You should be going back up to your room – listening to music, watching a movie. Anything but this.
But my hand’s already on the door now and it’s just going to be one peek, really, one glance – just to find out. That’s all. So, I put my hand on his door and peer in. It creaks a little, but something tells me that they aren’t really going to notice. Because – yes, there is a woman in there, a thin, tan, sexy woman, who is getting nothing less than pounded by Luke, his whole body rippling with muscles.
I watch them in a daze. I’ve never really watched porn, but if I did and it was the good stuff, I would imagine it would have to be like this: noisy, unrepentant, almost animalistic. These two people – this man and woman – have been reduced to the essentials: noises, feelings, and an urge fulfilled. And oh, how beautifully they do it.
My finger’s found its way to my pussy; I can’t help it. The sight is mesmeriz
ing; his muscled idol of a body with his long pole of a dick, sliding in and out of her slick svelte form. They’re locked in a dance, in a trembling, yelled-out fuck. It’s pleasure like I’ve never seen before. Pleasure for purely its own sake. This fucking is something like meditation, like deliverance. Her moans bring a shiver down my spine that stops at my already wet pussy. My hand slips under my Minnie Mouse sweatshirt – under my lace panties. Now, there are no more thoughts. There is only my body responding to what their bodies are doing. I have no choice, really. No choice but to watch this pair of bodies pulse together. No choice but to respond to the arousal surging through my helpless form. And, fuck, watching it is so good and it feels so good. My clit is throbbing, but when I slide my fingers down to my wet pussy, it’s almost like he’s the one touching me. Luke. Luke, the glorious sex God, who’s flipping the girl around now so he can fuck her from behind, handling her as if she’s a doll – a sex object. Now I’m moaning too, softly. I’ve never felt anything that feels this good. But it’s ok because now her moans have amplified into one long scream. She’s cumming. Must be. He slams into her one last time and he collapses on the bed, groaning too, both of them cumming together. The sight excites me even more, has me pulsing my finger into my pussy even faster – more harried. I can feel the pleasure coming on like a tidal wave of warm tingling ecstasy. I close my eyes. Murmuring sounds come from the room, but it doesn’t matter. I’m locked in a movement, a feeling. A fucking Godsend of a feeling.
When the door creaks, I open my eyes. Standing there, smirking at me, is Luke. His gaze is on my hand that’s still on my pussy, no longer covered by my sweatshirt.“Hey Emma,” he says.
I don’t wait. I run. Down the hallway and back up the stairs. Yanking my hand out of my panties, crashing up the steps, I fling myself through the door and slam it behind me. Luke’s mocking smile follows me all the way up, even as I flop on the bed, makes humiliated tears come to my eyes. And here I thought things couldn’t get any worse. How have I found two different occasions to make a fool of myself in less than 24 hours?
As I lay here staring at the cracked-wood ceiling out of bleary tear-filled eyes, the worst thing of all is that the only thing I can think about is my still tingling pussy and finishing what I started.
Chapter Four - Luke
I wake up fucking her. Emma. Somehow, last night, after I sent Yvonne away with a vague promise to call her, I went up to Emma’s room. She was crying but still horny as hell. Underneath her sweatshirt, she was naked. Her thick tits slapped me in the face as she tried to mutter protests she didn’t mean. No, once I got my fingers in her pussy, then we both saw what she really wanted. She wanted what she had seen through the crack in the door. She wanted to be fucked just the same. Just as mercilessly. So now, here I am, my dick between her thick thighs, both of us rocking the bed together. And when I close my eyes again, I realize just who I was thinking of every time I closed my eyes with Yvonne: her. It was her. Emma.
I close my eyes and when I open them again, I am alone.
I roll to one side of my bed, then the other. But Emma is nowhere to be seen. I have a hard-on, but it’s already a sad dying one. It knows better than I do: it was all a dream. All a tantalizingly unattainable dream.
As I get out of bed, my gaze stops on my still-open door. Well, what I saw Emma doing last night was definitely not a dream. No, she was there standing at the door. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, lost in our pleasure, touching herself at the sight of Yvonne and me. It was practically hotter than actually fucking Yvonne.
I slam the door.
This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. I promised the commander – hell, I promised myself. And this is one promise I can’t afford to break.
My stomach lets out a loud growl. A quick rifle through the Cheetos bag reveals only two spindly little sticks left. So, it’s back to the kitchen for some coffee and Mini-Wheats. Luckily, when I get there, Emma’s nowhere to be seen; she’s probably still hiding in her room, wanting to avoid me as much as I want to avoid her.
I make some coffee, get out the good old blue Mini-Wheat box and fill my bowl with the sugary wheat cereal. A bowlful of milk, a spoon, and I’m good to go. Just as I’m leaving, of course, is when she arrives.
She freezes in the doorway, her gaze flicking to me and down. She’s wearing that same big sweatshirt that still hadn’t hid her deliriously masturbating finger.
I’m about to walk past, when I see the angry scowl on her face. Her whole mouth drawn into a bow, her blue eyes glaring at her feet. The sight is almost endearing and definitely provoking.
Before I can stop myself, I’m saying “Slept well?”
I walk right up to her, but she still doesn’t respond. Now, this is definitely provoking.
“Anytime you want to watch, just tell me,” I continue, “I have loads of girls you can watch and enjoy.”
Her face twisting in disgust, Emma marches by me without a second look. “You’re disgusting.”
As I walk out of the kitchen, I stop in the doorway. “Don’t pretend you’re not attracted to me.”
Now, she turns to me with a sneer. “You are the cockiest man I know.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask before walking away, still smirking to myself.
As I get to my room, I figure that’s that. But as I gobble down my breakfast, my mind keeps whirring with angry thoughts. Who does Emma think she is? That she can deny what I saw with my own eyes? She had actually touched herself at the sight of me fucking Yvonne.
Her sneer replays itself in my head while I eat. When I finish my breakfast, I find myself taking off my boxers. So, Emma’s not attracted to me, eh? Well, then. It would be no sweat if I just walk around wearing a tiny towel, right?
I grab a green one hanging on my closet door and wrap it around myself, tying it in the back so that my junk is just about covered. Then, I grab my phone. It’s back out into the living room, which the kitchen has a nice open view of.
I call Tania first. “I’ve missed you too babe, how are you?”
At the sound of my voice, Emma glances over, then gapes. Her eyebrows knit together while I just smile. I’m just getting started.
“I missss you,” Tania’s saying again.
“I know, babe. But this week is crazy and–” I glance at Emma again, but she’s sitting at the kitchen table now with her head turned determinedly away from me. “How about you make this easier on me? What do you say? Would you do that for me?”
You can almost hear the interest peak in Tania’s voice: “Oh yeah? What could I do to help you?”
Emma still has her back turned.
“Well, how about you start with telling me what you’re doing and what you’re wearing?”
A giggle, then “I could do that. I’m wearing a long sleepshirt and no panties.”
“No panties, eh? Why not – any reason in particular?”
Another giggle.
“No… I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Baby, you know how I love to make you happy. To give you pleasure. Could you do that for me now – give yourself some pleasure?”
More giggles.
“I guess I could do that.”
Silence. Then, the sounds of moans over the line.
“Yeah, baby, that sounds really fucking hot. What are you thinking of? Me fucking you?”
She says something I can’t hear, but now I can see Emma’s back all tensed, so I improvise.
“Oh yeah? You’re thinking of my huge, rock-hard dick shoving itself into all your holes, face-fucking you, then fucking you in the pussy and finishing in your ass?”
Tania’s saying something between a “huh?” and an “uhh,” but it doesn’t matter because Emma has leapt up and, half-finished muffin in hand, stomped to the kitchen doorway. Glaring at me as if she might actually chuck the thing in my face, Emma cries, “You are sick!” Then, she strides up the staircase.
“Uhhh . . . what was that?” Tania’s asking between her moans.
“Nothing, baby,” I say. Because right now, I really am rock-hard. But not because of the sexy redhead on the phone who’s moaning at the thought of me. No. It’s because of the girl who just marched away; the one whose disgusted face also wore something else that was unmistakable. Arousal.
Chapter Five - Emma
Upstairs, my muffin gets soggy with my tears, but I finish it anyway. If only it were that easy to finish these thoughts. Why do I find Luke so appealing, even with his base animalistic instincts and cocky attitude? This thing is all clearly just a joke to him. I can’t stay here.
I take out my laptop and start scanning Kijiji for a cheap, viable option of another place to stay. Unsurprisingly, the cheapest ads are also the ones without any pictures: addresses that are far from the city and with dubious spelling in the ads themselves. Maybe I really should just go to stay with Gillian for the time being; anything would be better than this.
I’m still crying, but packing some of my shoes back up makes me feel better. Yes, this nightmare will be over in a few days. I won’t stay here longer than that. I promise myself. I can’t.
I have to go to the bathroom, but I can’t stand the thought of running into Luke again. So, I pace around my room until I hear the front door open and then close. Eagerly racing down the stairs, I make a beeline to the bathroom.
“Hi.”
At the sound of a child’s voice, I freeze. Across the living room, at the front door, is a little boy who has Luke’s same dark eyes.
“Hi,” I say.
“Where’s Dad?” he asks.
“I don’t kn-” I say just as I hear, “So, you came back, Emma?”
Luckily, the hallway is dark, so the little boy can only say, “Dad?”
Half-visible and still with only that infuriating towel tied around his waist, Luke freezes. “Shit.” With a downwards glance, he flicks me a desperate look. “Parker – my son. Can you – for a second?”
Shattered Daddy: A Billionaire Suspense Romance Page 21