One Hot Daddy: A Single Dad Next Door Romance

by Kira Blakely

  His eyes stayed on hers. His fingers pressed down on her shoulders just a little as he spoke with real force. “Does anyone say that about Lexie? Hell no, not where Dawson can hear it. He’d wipe the floor with them, and I would do the same to any idiot who chose to say such a stupid thing.”

  He would, too. She knew he would. He was right. He was nothing like her greedy and materialistic stepfather or any of the people she had known most of her younger life. He did care about things, and he cared a great deal about them as well.

  He added, “But, if it makes it easier and better, then I will put it as an anonymous thing. That way, nobody will ever know.”

  “Thank you.” It was the only thing she knew to say. She leaned into him and lifted her face to his. “Thank you so much. Yes. To all of it. To the donation and to you. To us.”

  He said, “Now that is what I was hoping to hear.”

  His lips came down on hers, claiming her. Their bodies pressed together. His hands slid down her shoulders and along her back, his fingers pressing and sliding along the knobs of her spine.

  Desire hit, swarming over her nerve endings and making her legs go liquid. Her body trembled a little as their lips met again, and his tongue wandered into her mouth, teasing hers until she kissed him back with so much passion that they were both left gasping and panting.

  His fingers found the pert slopes of her ass, and he lifted them. His fingers squeezed those cheeks, kneading them, and he broke off the kiss for a moment to growl out, “I have a bed, at least.”

  “Then we better get there, or we are going to be on this floor,” she panted back.

  He took her hand and raced her down the hallway to a sparsely finished bedroom. Hope did not have time to look around, and she did not care to either. She saw the giant bed and that was the only thing she needed to see. They headed for it, their hands all over each other.

  Their mouths met again as her fingers fumbled at his buttons, baring his magnificent body to view.

  Her hands were all over him, touching the texture of his skin, and then she was naked, too.

  Their skin met, and his mouth trailed down her neck and then went to her breasts, his lips tugging at her nipples and his teeth closing around them as they went pebble hard and rough below the urgent touch of his mouth. His hands moved down her belly, and then they were on the bed, her legs spreading for him as he found the slick wetness between her thighs.

  His fingers slid inside her tight inner folds, and her legs parted further for him. His mouth moved lower while his fingers thrust in and out of her body, creating a furious rhythm. His tongue slid across her outer lips and she whimpered, her hands going to his hair and tangling in it as he found her clit and began to massage it roughly back and forth.

  Her ass lifted off the bed, and she groaned as sensation shot through her body, making wetness spill from her. Her toes curled, and her nails scratched along his scalp. Her thighs shivered as he matched his fingers and tongue in speed and intensity, and more sensation uncoiled inside her body until she cried out, her heels digging into the mattress as she sought to get even closer to the source of the pleasure rocketing through her body.

  The orgasm struck, making her core clench and fluids gush out of her body to spill across his chin and mouth in a slick and heated pool.

  Jackson came up, his eyes darkened by desire. He entered her quickly, not even giving her time to catch her breath and while she was still riding the aftershocks of the climax.

  Those aftershocks turned into yet another orgasm as his hot and thick member drove into her tight flesh, opening it and making more oils gather on her inner folds to ease his passage deeper and deeper still with each powerful thrust of his hips and firm ass.

  “Oh, God!” her voice shook as hard as her body as she gave in and wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, her heels banging against his back as she canted her hips into a higher angle so that he could get an even more immediate plane of penetration.

  He found that angle, and the pleasure that hit made her eyes roll back in her head. His mouth came down on hers, muffling her loud cries as her walls opened and closed, spilling fluids and milking his hard flesh as she fluttered and shook and cried out for more and more, yet again.

  Jackson went rigid. His hands gripped her shoulders, pinning her upper body into place as he shuddered. He drove in and out of her with fast and frantic pumps of his body. Then, he let out a long howl, and she slumped against the bed, her fingers tangling into the sheets.

  Jackson collapsed on top of her. His breath washed over her shoulder, and he grunted out something unintelligible in her ear.

  They lay there, tangled together and still joined. The afterglow was long and sweet, and when he finally moved away, he left a thin dribble of fluid from his flaccid penis along her upper thighs.

  He pulled her close, and she nestled into his side. She sighed softly, and she asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  “Which part?”

  “Working with me.”

  Jackson gave her a wicked smile. “I am hoping it comes with perks.”

  “Oh, you.” She gave him a little slap on the arm and laughed. “I am sure it will, but not in the lab because, you know, conditions.’

  He roared with laughter. “Okay, so we might have to build a room for unclean conditions.”

  Their laughter drifted toward the ceiling. Jackson ran a hand across her hair in a long, soothing gesture. He said, “For real, I want this. I want to do the work with you. I know by this time next year you will have made enough strides to get a new grant, and by then I will probably have gotten solid ground under the idea that I have in there. I don’t want to sell it off to rich pharmaceutical companies any more than you do, so that will never happen, and the good news is I am already rich, so they can’t tempt me like that, and you do not care about money.”

  “Jackson, the good news is that if you donate the money, the university only gets to keep part of the revenue. You would get the bigger portion. It is how investing works, you know.”

  He looked surprised. “Okay then. I don’t care about that though.”

  “I know.” She did know, and it was why she loved him. “I have to ask: why was Robert so impressed by the sale of your video game?’

  He laughed. “You really don’t know?’

  “No.”

  “Because I sold it for close to a billion dollars.’

  A billion…with a B? Her brain froze. She choked. She could not even find air to breathe. He added, “Oh, and it had four games already operational that went with the sale, so there was that.”

  “Oh…um…uh…well then.”

  Jackson laughed loudly. “You see now why I don’t mind putting five mil into this?”

  “Yes, but…” Her lips were numb. “But you don’t act like a guy with that kind of money.”

  He gave her a broad smile. “And I never will.”

  “Thank God,” she said.

  Their mouths met again. Hope let go, surrendering to the man who believed in her and who made her believe in herself.

  CLARA SAID, “Thanks again for getting Jackson to sign on with me as a client.”

  “Oh, I did not get him to do anything. He was yelled at by Dawson until he gave in and decided to do something besides have a pile of money sitting in the bank where he could lose it due to all sorts of things.”

  Clara chuckled. “I will take it however I got it.” Her face darkened as she surveyed Dawson’s apartment and the men inside it. “Oh, shit. Please tell me that is not Stephen coming in the door.”

  Hope asked, “The guy you hate so much?”

  “The very same. Oh, no! he’s coming over here!” Clara tried to duck behind her, but Hope said, “Oh no, you don’t,” and shoved her back in front of her and right into the path of Stephen.

  Stephen caught Clara just as she stumbled. Hope grinned and ducked away before Clara could shoot her a look that could kill her.

  Jackson asked, “What are you laug
hing at?”

  “I was just thinking that not so long ago I was right in the same place I am now, and I was thinking you were an arrogant jerk that I absolutely did not want to talk to and how things change.” Her eyes went to Clara and Stephen. “And how they don’t.”

  “So you still don’t want to talk to me?” There was a teasing note in Jackson’s voice as he pulled her close and held her tightly.

  “I will never stop talking to you. Oh look, there’s Ashton and Laura!”

  They headed toward the arriving couple just as Lexie and Dawson stepped toward them. As they went, Hope found herself being nothing but grateful for a night she had taken a chance and talked to man she had been sure was the last guy she would ever want to talk to, and wondering just what would happen if Clara would let her guard down long enough to talk to Stephen who so clearly and badly wanted her.

  The End

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  Extended Extra Epilogue One Hot Daddy

  One Year Later.

  It was September again. Charlotte eyed the calendar in disbelief at her desk at Rolling Stone, unable to comprehend the fact that she’d been living in New York City for an entire year and that she’d been dating Quentin for almost that long. It had been a year since the most distressing, dramatic days of her career. Nothing could have matched that time in intensity. Nothing could have ultimately given her more joy.

  Today, on this Friday afternoon, she was finishing the edits for a recent piece she’d written about a Brooklyn band, which Quentin had recently signed to the record label he’d begun the previous June. Having become a bit bored with the same-old editing and writing, Quentin had turned back to music almost whole-heartedly, retiring from MMM and writing music with greater intensity.

  “It was you, babe,” he’d told her, countless times now. “You taught me what it means to feel again. And I can’t use up all this emotion inside that horrible office. I need to use it in the world—giving people music again.”

  Charlotte couldn’t have agreed more. Since he’d removed himself as editor of MMM, he’d become incredibly happy, spending long days in the studio and signing bands, like this one from Brooklyn, based on the “image” he wanted to create with his label.

  “Yeah, the minute Quentin from Orpheus Arise discovered us,” the band’s lead singer had said during the interview, “We knew we’d made it big. I mean, we all grew up with Orpheus Arise. It oriented who we are as musicians more than almost anything else. So, we couldn’t be more grateful to be in the studio with Quentin, playing along with him, and taking his advice.”

  After she finished the edits, Charlotte sent the article to her editor, snapping her computer closed for the day. Simmering with excitement, she bolted from the Rolling Stone offices, hailing a taxi back to the Upper West Side. After her aunt had returned in the springtime, Charlotte had moved in with Quentin, becoming Morgan’s relative live-in mother (when she wasn’t at Kate’s, of course), and finding that—despite her young age of just twenty-four—she didn’t actually mind it. They worked as a strange, 21st-century family, speaking with dramatic flourish about music and then easing into discussions of homework and piano lessons and who was going to make Morgan spaghetti. Nothing about it made sense, and perhaps that’s what Charlotte loved most about it.

  When she arrived home, bursting into the apartment, she found Quentin back in his studio, his back cranked over his guitar and his fingers flicking over the strings. He was humming as he played, looking the very portrait of a gorgeous, masculine singer-songwriter, with dark curls around his ears, his muscles taut, his shoulders wide. Charlotte watched him from the corner of the studio, twirling her hair as he played.

  He still hadn’t noticed her.

  As he ended the song, she crept up behind him, bringing her arms around his neck and kissing his shoulder blade, his ear. He laughed, knocking his head back and grabbing her hands. “Hello, gorgeous,” he whispered, whirling her around to his lap. He dropped his guitar into its case and eased her over him, bringing one leg on either side. Her crotch pressed up against his hard rod, which pulsed against his black jeans.

  “Hi,” she whispered, her attraction to him igniting, making her forget anything else from her day. Nothing else existed: just this.

  “Hello, there,” he returned, his dark eyes flashing. “Don’t suppose you were spying on me while I did my very important, top-secret work?”

  “Me? But I’m just a girl. I have no reason to spy.”

  “I have reason to believe you’re a journalist from the Rolling Stone Magazine,” Quentin said, his eyebrows high.

  “Do you have proof of that?” Charlotte asked him, biting her bottom lip.

  “No.” Quentin shifted, cranking his arms around her waist and then grasping her ass. He held her butt cheeks tightly, still gazing into her eyes. “But I’ll tell you something. I am fully prepared to give you information regarding my top-secret project. In return for this.”

  “You want to sleep with me. Is that ethical?” Charlotte whispered. “Because you know I’m nothing if not an ethical journalist.”

  “Oh, I know. I know,” Quentin said, breaking into a smile. He knocked his lips forward, grabbing onto her bottom lip and sucking at it, causing a shiver to shoot down her spine. “Oh, baby,” he breathed.

  Charlotte eased her hand to the top of his black V-neck t-shirt, yanking it over his head with a quick motion to reveal the stunning muscles beneath. They shimmered in the soft light of the studio, still tan from the vacation they’d taken to an island in Central America the previous month.

  “I think I’ll have a few things to write about this body,” Charlotte began, twisting her shoulders forward then back.

  “And I think I’ll have a few songs to write about those breasts,” Quentin said. He leaned forward, biting at her neck. “Get naked for me. Now.”

  Charlotte’s breasts burned with lust, with anticipation. She reached for the bottom of her dress, whipping it over her head to reveal her tight, black bra, which brought her breasts to bulge upward. Quentin wrapped his arms around her torso, unhooking the bra and allowing her breasts to spring forward, bouncing in the light.

  “Jesus. That never gets old,” Quentin whispered. He swept his head forward, wrapping his lips around the tightness of her nipples, gliding his tongue across.

  Charlotte leaned her head back, her neck arching, her rib cage pressing forward. As she did, Quentin reached down and snapped the line of her G-string, before drawing it down below her thighs. She reached her legs upward, allowing him to slip the G-string from her feet. Then, she wrapped her legs around his neck, displaying her fully naked self in front of him: her flat stomach, her perfect, wet pussy lips, which spasmed, anticipating his touch.

  “The kid’s home in just a half hour,” Quentin said, his voice deep.

  “Then I guess you better hurry,” Charlotte whispered.

  Quentin reached forward, rubbing at the top part of Charlotte’s slit, watching as her pussy lips grew even wetter with his touch. He rubbed the top, parting the lips, discovering the depth of her, and then dove two fingers into her, rubbing against the soft, pillow-like ending, her G-spot. As he moved his fingers deeper within her, Charlotte’s pussy lips clenched around him; her eyes closed.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered, her legs tightening around his neck. “Now.”

  Quentin undid his black pants and ripped his thick, veiny member from beneath. It was red, pulsing, pointing directly at the softness of her pussy lips. With achingly slow motions, he pushed toward her, pressing his cock deep within her. As he moved into her, her lips parted, allowing a moan to escape from her throat.

  Charlotte was bent incredibly, with her hands wrapped tightly around Quentin’s th
ick forearms and her legs all the way up around his neck. Quentin lifted her, thrusting her against the wall, and fucking her in her pretzel formation, pulsing into her over and over again. His face became gruff, animalistic, almost as if he didn’t see her as the woman he’d come to know and love.

  No. He’d slipped into his bad boy persona, willing and able to destroy Charlotte—her body, her soul. And this was what she craved from him. Her head knocked back against the studio wall, causing her to cry out. But Quentin thrust his hand over her mouth, not allowing her to make noise.

  “Not until I tell you,” he said, his voice booming. “You’re only allowed to come when I tell you to.”

  He continued to fuck her, his pants around his ankles and his cock hard, thick, penetrating deep within her and filling her up. Charlotte’s heart hammered with lust against her ribcage. She clung to him with urgency, not wanting to fall from his grasp.

  In the last moments they had together, alone, Quentin gave her a firm nod, his eyes deep, full of meaning. Charlotte’s pussy lips convulsed; her brain began to explode in multiple pangs of emotion. He thrust into her a final time, coming, his cock knocking far into the dark wetness within her pussy lips.

  As he stood, sweating, he gazed up into Charlotte’s eyes, becoming the man she knew and loved once more. He kissed her in a longing way, shaking his head, allowing dots of sweat to sweep from his hair.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

  In that moment, they heard the doorbell ring. Charlotte leaped from his arms, bringing her dress over her slim form. Quentin buckled his pants, placing his hand at the small of her back. “All right. It’s show time.”

  Charlotte opened the front door to find eight-year-old Morgan standing there, expectant, her backpack slipping down her back. “Charlotte!” she cried out, leaping forward and wrapping her in a hug. Kate stood behind her, assessing the two of them with watchful eyes.

  “Took her out for ice cream,” Kate said, eyeing Quentin. “She mastered her sight-reading test today.”