One Hot Daddy: A Single Dad Next Door Romance

by Kira Blakely

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in there,” I said, wiping the tear from my cheek. Vincent shook his head. I was embarrassed again for making a scene.

  “Don’t worry about it. They’re just my friends, and I don’t think anybody else noticed or cared,” he said, taking a step toward me.

  I wanted to be in his arms, lay my head against his chest. I had never needed somebody as much as I needed to feel his touch right then. But I was ashamed of myself, of my behavior. Especially because he was being so kind and understanding.

  “Why do you keep running away from me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Vincent,” I replied, my lips quivering. I was still fighting back tears. “This has never happened to me before,” I told him truthfully.

  “Do you want to just go back to my place? This party is a bore anyway,” he said and stretched out an arm toward me.

  I gulped and nodded. “I guess I’m just tired,” I squeaked, making a lame excuse. The truth was that I just wanted to be alone with him, even if we spent the next hours in complete silence.

  “Let’s go get the car; we’ve had a busy few days,” he said and I walked toward him. When I felt his hand on my back, that electric current shot down my spine again. But it also made me calm.

  We were walking toward the front of the building in silence. Neither of us wanted to really speak, especially not me. I knew he was being a gentleman, the perfect host, and I wondered if he’d ever want to see me again after the way I’d acted.

  Vincent

  We rode silently in my car, with some space between us. Every time I looked over, I could see that she had her face turned away from me, looking out into the streets. I could still see her reflection in the mirror though. Her small button nose, her luscious red lips that matched the color of her dress exactly. Her hair framed her face in a halo of dark curls, and her eyes looked exhausted. She looked paler than usual, especially here in California, but I couldn’t help but be transfixed by her unearthly beauty. But seeing her in that dress, her legs crossed demurely over each other, her hands clutched together on her lap. I was filled with guilt for bringing her here; this wasn’t the Gemma Ramsey I had met in that small mountain town. This was someone else, someone I was forcing her to be.

  I looked away from her, breathing in her scent in our closed space. She wasn’t the only one who was confused; she wasn’t the only one this was happening to for the first time. I had never felt this way before either. My friends were right. When was the last time I had brought a date to a formal social event where I knew all my friends were going to be? With Gemma, I hadn’t even given it a second thought. I’d wanted her there; I’d wanted all my friends to meet her. Even though the truth was that even I didn’t know her well enough yet.

  What would my family think of her? My mind drifted immediately to the sense of duty my parents had always instilled in me. The two women Mother had selected for me were from distinguished Russian aristocratic families. A marriage with one of them would merge our lineages and expand our wealth and name.

  Mother insisted it wasn’t an arranged marriage. Especially since I had dated both the girls briefly, sometime during my college years. So many girls had come after them I couldn’t even remember my time with either of them. What was it? Sarah for a couple of dates, and Maria some weeks? Hardly relationships.

  She shifted in her seat beside me. When our eyes met, she blushed and looked away. I could see that she was feeling guilty. She was embarrassed for running out like that. She thought she had dragged me away from the party, from my friends. I wanted to reach out to her and touch her, hold her hand, stroke her hair. Anything to make her feel better. But I knew I should give her space. What was it that she was so ashamed of? What was she running away from?

  Why had I brought her here?

  I knew what the practical reason was; because I wanted to keep seeing her. For the sake of my business, I’d had to come back to LA, but I didn’t want to cut short my time with her. I hadn’t thought she would agree to come with me, and now I could see that she was already regretting that decision. But what happened after this?

  I had never gotten this far with any woman before. I didn’t know what it felt like to want to be with someone so bad that you would do anything to make them stay. And she didn’t seem like she wanted to stay. For starters, she kept running away from me. That should have been a big indicator.

  I remembered laughing when Casper told me how madly in love he was with Lily Fritz. I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t his type. They had met under strange circumstances, and I had found it funny that Casper was so madly in love. Same with Nash. Bonnie Calhoun was a nerd in college. I couldn’t understand what made Nash fall so madly in love with her. Now I felt foolish for ever laughing at either of them. Now I felt like I was maybe in the same position.

  “I’m sorry if my friends made you uncomfortable, Gemma,” I said out loud and she turned to look at me. Her eyes had softened by now, they looked nearly brown in the dim light.

  “They didn’t. They were actually all being friendly and nice. I obviously overreacted. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself,” she said and I shook my head.

  “That isn’t even possible. You couldn’t ever make a fool of yourself. I know they can come on strong. We’ve been friends for so long; they were just taken aback that they didn’t know who you were,” I explained, and Gemma forced a weak smile.

  I could see how tired she was, and the chivalrous thing to do would be to send her home. To let her go back to her own home. I knew she had a lot of things to deal with, even if I didn’t know exactly what they were. For starters, she had no job waiting for her.

  “I’ll get my secretary to book tickets for you to head back tomorrow morning. How does that sound?” I said, smiling at her. Gemma nodded and finally smiled as well. It broke something in me, because a part of me was hoping that she would say she didn’t want to go back. That she wanted to be here, stay with me.

  But after tonight, I knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. She had no reason to remain here, not after how she had felt today at the party. And if she wanted to keep running away from me, it was probably time to just cut her loose so that she could go back to living her own life.

  Gemma

  Tim opened the door, and I noticed the look of surprise in his eyes when he saw us. He hadn’t been expecting us back this soon.

  “Thank you, Tim, and will you please get Ms. Preston to book tickets to Seattle for first thing in the morning? Book a car for her to Carlow Ridge from there,” Vincent said, not wasting any time to get the flight booked for me. I felt a sudden desperation to stop him, to stop Tim, but he had already turned and walked away from us. When Vincent looked at me, he had a smile on his face.

  “Shall we just go upstairs? Unless you would prefer a separate room for the night,” he said, as nonchalantly as possible.

  My brows crossed, and I shook my head. “No, of course not. I’m all settled in there already, I don’t mind,” I said in a meek voice. So, this was going to be my last night with Vincent. My heart was already breaking, but I needed to keep a strong front. I had brought this upon myself. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

  Vincent nodded and then started climbing the stairs. I followed him in silence, hitching my dress up again as I walked. Only now did I realize that I was still barefoot. I’d forgotten the heels back at the party. There was that rush of guilt again!

  He led me into his bedroom in silence, and I stood at the door with my hands clasped together. He had already walked over to the full-length gilded mirror, where the new makeup bag was sitting on the dressing table, its contents spilling out.

  He was busy undoing his bowtie, looking at himself in the mirror. The smile had disappeared from his face; he had a dark unhappy expression in its place instead.

  “Keep the dress, and the makeup things,” Vincent said, looking at me through his reflection in the mirror. He looked even more handsome suddenly, if that was even po
ssible. The bowtie lay loosened at his neck and he was proceeding to take his jacket off. I could see his rippling biceps under the thin material of the white shirt he was wearing. I knew how smooth his bronze skin was under there, how the ridges of his muscles felt under my fingertips.

  “I can’t accept them,” I said, spreading my hands out. There was no way I was going to carry back home reminders of Vincent.

  “What am I supposed to do with them?” he asked in a sudden harsh tone. The kindness and calmness from before had disappeared. He turned to look at me directly. It was like he was accusing me of something.

  “Give them to somebody else. I don’t know?” I said defensively. How had the atmosphere suddenly changed between us? I could feel my heart beating manically in my chest.

  “I bought them for you, Gemma. They are yours now,” he said and turned back to the mirror to look at himself as he untucked his shirt from his pants.

  I was still standing by the door, a worried expression on my face. Where was this sudden aggression coming from?

  “I didn’t ask for the dress, or the shoes or these earrings,” I said and started fumbling with the clasps of the earrings.

  Vincent turned to me again, and I could see his mouth was set in a firm stiff line. I took the earrings off and walked with them over to the dressing table, gripping them tightly in my hand.

  “Stop it, stop pushing me away!” Vincent growled and grabbed my wrist, just as I was about to place the earrings on the table. Our eyes met; we were both glaring at each other. Our polite chatter from earlier had turned into something else.

  “I didn’t ask to come here, I didn’t ask for these things,” I snapped.

  Vincent pulled me to him by my wrist. “You think I forced them on you? Why didn’t you say something before?” His eyes looked angered or in pain, I couldn’t tell which. All I knew was that a change had come over him.

  He was holding me to him, and we were glaring, right into each other’s eyes. I could feel the strong grip of his hand on my wrist, but I didn’t move. I had wanted to be close to him for so long that I was willing to accept anything he had to offer.

  “Because you always get what you want, don’t you, Mr. Vincent Stoltz?” I purred sarcastically.

  Vincent drew in a deep breath, still keeping a steady gaze on me. “That was never my intention with you. You had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted,” he growled, pulling me closer to him. My breasts were now pressed tightly to his chest. I knew he could feel my erect nipples through my dress. I could feel his growing cock against my leg, too. We were both painfully aroused. Despite the conversation we were having, we wanted to tear the clothes off each other.

  “I tried to run away,” I said and his nostrils flared.

  “And I keep bringing you back,” he countered, his voice still tight and angered. I tilted my head away from him, to look at him more clearly.

  We were silently looking at each other and several moments passed. His cock was throbbing against my leg now; he could probably see my flushed cheeks, too. His grip on my wrist hadn’t slackened; we hadn’t moved in several minutes.

  “You don’t want this dress? Fine,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. Before I had a chance to react to what he was saying, he had let go of my hand. Grabbing the top of my dress with both hands, Vincent ripped through the fabric. A loud tear struck the air as the dress fell apart, ripping right down the center. The tear was all the way down to the bottom of my belly and the fabric fell on either side of my torso, settling at my waist.

  “You don’t need to do me any favors. You don’t need to take it with you,” he said and stepped away from me.

  I was panting from the rush of emotions, standing in front of him with my breasts exposed. He could see my erect nipples, the rise and fall of my heaving chest. His gaze went directly to them, settling at the spot between my breasts.

  We didn’t have to say a word. In two long strides, Vincent was holding me in his arms. His lips engulfed mine, and he pushed his tongue into my mouth furiously. I welcomed him in, kissing him, nibbling on his bottom lip.

  With one hand, he was supporting me as he leaned me back; with his other, he was ripping down the rest of my dress. His cock was pressed against me. I knew it was big, hard and ready for me. I cupped it through his pants, and he groaned as I began to stroke.

  “This is insane,” he mumbled as we kissed, and as the rest of my dress fell away from me. Now I was completely naked in his arms, and he was still half dressed.

  I didn’t stop stroking him, playing with his cock so that it grew even bigger in my hands. He pulled away from my lips so that he could undo his pants. It went sliding down, so that now he only had his half-buttoned shirt on.

  His cock was throbbing, hard and pointed erect toward me as he pulled me close to him again. I could hear him unpacking the condom in his hands and just the sound excited me. He licked a wet trail down my chin, my neck and then to the top of my breasts. I had thrust myself toward him, enjoying the feel of his rock-hard cock against my thigh. I wanted him inside me. I was dripping wet for him already.

  But Vincent had started nibbling on my breasts, taking one nipple at a time inside his mouth, while his fingers found their way down my belly to my soft core.

  I moaned loudly when I felt him slip his forefinger inside me. I stroked him harder. His forefinger slid in; he pushed it deep inside me like he was exploring where his cock was going to be any moment now. He was testing me for my wetness. Then a second finger slipped in, and I arched my back. He was teasing me again, making me feel like I was going to explode.

  “Vincent…” I breathed, just as he started pulling his fingers out. Then he pushed them in again, practicing his strokes for what was to come later.

  “You’re going to come for me now,” he said, right into my ear. He was holding me; we were still standing pressed together as he pushed his fingers into me and pulled them out again. In quick jerky motions, not giving me any time to prepare myself. My legs quivered as I felt him reaching that spot; it was going to be very difficult for me to control myself. He was making it impossible to gain composure. It was like we were running out of time.

  I came swiftly, wrapping my arms around his neck and flinging my head back in uncontrollable pleasure. I knew I was moaning loudly as I came, and he kept stroking me with his fingers until he was satisfied. Until he knew that I couldn’t come anymore.

  “Now, you’re going to come again,” he said just when my breathing had begun to settle down. I was panting, completely out of breath and staring at him with pleading eyes. I wanted it as badly as he did. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to watch me come all night.

  “On the floor, spread your legs,” he said, releasing his grip on my waist. I did as I was told in a hurry. I sank to the floor and lay down, spreading my legs wide for him.

  Vincent unbuttoned his shirt so that he was standing over me completely naked now. He looked powerful with his throbbing cock between his legs, which he was now encasing with the condom. His eyes were narrowed, glowing like black crystals as he lowered himself over me.

  We were going to be looking at each other. Our eyes were fixed, holding each other’s gazes as he thrust himself into me. Vincent's mouth was open, I could see the taut veins on his neck as he started pumping. I held his shoulders, my nails digging into his flesh as he thrust and thrust, deep inside me.

  He was groaning. With each thrust, the tension was building higher and higher. This orgasm was going to be different. I could feel it already.

  “Come with me, Gemma,” he said in a surprisingly soft voice. I had no other choice but to let go. Our gazes were locked. His face looked blank, emotionless and yet stuck on me. I couldn’t look away either as we came. My body writhed and shook under him as I felt him release at the same time. He was burying himself deep inside me, with no escape. It was a voiceless orgasm. Neither of us moaned or said a word. He remained suspended above me, watching me silently as I came and as he came
, too.

  It wasn’t until several seconds later that my body began to descend from the high it was on, but he was still moving over me. Like he didn’t want the moment to end. I didn’t want the moment to end either, but neither of us had words for it. What were we supposed to say? I was going to leave in the morning; this was going to be the last time.

  Gemma

  When I woke up, I was lying on top of him. We were on the carpeted floor, in front of the gilded mirror. Vincent was under me, his arms wrapped lazily around my waist, his legs spread apart to accommodate my body. I had been sleeping with my head on his chest, I could still feel the warm imprint of his skin on my cheek.

  My hair had come undone, and my red lipstick from the previous night was smudged all around my lips and cheeks. I had been sleeping facing down, my body pressed to his.

  Vincent was sleeping noiselessly; his breathing was even and subtle, and his eyelids didn’t as much as flicker. What was he dreaming about?

  I only had to fidget slightly for his arms that had been holding me loosely to fall to the sides. I slid away from him, kneeling on the carpet beside him. My skin was still tingling from the comfort of sleeping with his arms around me.

  It was the dreaded morning, early still, but in a few hours it would be time for me to leave. Would he come to the airport to see me off? I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want to see his face as I said goodbye. Vincent had changed my life, and he didn’t even know it.

  I stood up and staggered over to the bathroom to wash my face. My phone was still lying on the table next to the bathtub. Naked to the bone, I walked over and switched it on. I really didn’t care anymore.

  But I was surprised to find that neither of my parents had texted since our last conversation. Worried, guilty, heartbroken… I called my mother. She answered after several rings.

  “Mom?” I said, my voice breaking as I heard her breath at the other end.