Bossed: A Dark Single Dad Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  “It must be natural talent then,” Carly says. “It’s a good thing she can sing. Otherwise, this would be a very long ride.”

  “I wouldn’t mind so much if she could sing more than one song.”

  “I’ll teach her some new ones this week. How does that sound?”

  “So long as it’s not Taylor Swift.”

  “No promises.”

  I’m in heaven. Olivia is building sandcastles—badly—and I’m laying next to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  I should be at work. I told my secretary I would be at meetings all day. He knows that’s a lie because I’d never make it to a single meeting ever if it weren’t for his rigid control over my schedule. Still, he’ll spread that lie to anyone who asks. It’s ridiculous that I’m the boss and yet I can’t take time off without feeling guilty.

  Grady won’t stop chasing me up about the sale. He’s acting in the best interests of the business, but it’s still annoying. I’m the boss I promised I’d never become. When I first graduated college, I worked for a guy who used to insist on work being turned around quickly, but would then sit on it for weeks. He was a blockage. Now that’s me. I’m the guy who stops things getting done.

  I’ll start fresh tomorrow. I need this day. I need time with my daughter and with Carly. Like a family. Christ, Marie would have a field day analyzing this.

  “Daddy, I’m hot,” Olivia complains.

  Carly immediately jumps up and takes off the thin sweater that Olivia’s wearing over her costume. There had been a cool breeze just fifteen minutes ago, but it’s disappeared and the temperature’s rising.

  “I’m going to put some suntan lotion on you,” Carly says to Olivia.

  “No,” Olivia replies. “I don’t like it.”

  “You have to, I’m afraid. Everyone else is wearing it.”

  “Daddy’s not,” Olivia points out.

  “I’m sure Daddy will wear some too, won’t you, Daddy?”

  “Yes, I’ll put some on,” I agree.

  “Daddy first,” Olivia says suspiciously.

  Carly throws me the bottle. “There you go, Daddy.”

  “You should put it on for me,” I reply. “I can’t reach all the right spots.”

  Carly grins and bites her lip, but she comes over to me and takes the lotion back. “You hit all the right spots the other night,” she whispers, before squirting the lotion loudly into her hand.

  “Hush up and apply the lotion.”

  She smiles and slaps her hand against my chest, rubbing it in slowly and moving her hand down tantalizingly closer to my trunks. My back and arms get the same slow and methodical treatment until I’m covered in lotion and desperate for my sister to come and look after Olivia so that Carly and I can get some alone time.

  Olivia reluctantly agrees to let Carly apply the lotion to her arms, legs, and face and then carries on building sandcastles.

  “You must be getting hot as well,” I say to Carly. “Why don’t you take off that dress?”

  “I’m only wearing a swimsuit underneath.”

  “You realize we’re at the beach, right? Look around you. Everyone here is in swimsuits and none of them have bodies like yours.”

  The beach is full of the typical LA types that make me consider moving away at least once a year. It’s all skinny women, often with large, fake breasts, and bikinis that barely cover their freshly waxed labia.

  Carly is the antidote to that disease. Her large—natural—breasts and wide hips are just what this beach needs.

  Carly removes her dress, but she’s clearly nervous about it. How can she be nervous when she looks like that? How can she be nervous after some of the things we’ve done together? It’s the mask. When we met, she was wearing a mask, and the next time we got freaky she kept it on until we got home. When she’s wearing the mask, she’s pretending to be someone else. Laura. On the beach, she’s Carly again, and Carly is the nervous type.

  Olivia finishes filling her bucket up with sand, but when she tries to turn it over most of the sand collapses because it’s too dry.

  “You want some help?” Carly asks. Olivia nods, so Carly goes to sit with her and they build sandcastles together.

  I can’t take my eyes off them. Olivia doesn’t look anything like Carly, but the way they play together would convince anyone that they were mother and daughter. Olivia had four different babysitters before Carly—not including Marie—but she never connected with any of them. They felt like hired help, which of course, they were. Carly is so much more than that to Olivia. And to me.

  What do I do next? Marie would tell me to ask Carly out on a date. She’d make it sound easy, however, there’s more to it than that. Carly didn’t fall for me as Parker; she fell for a stranger in a mask who did kinky things with her in the shadows. Once you’re in that lifestyle, it’s hard to escape. I know that only too well. The thrill of fucking strangers, or of being submissive to a man, is something many women find hard to replace.

  We could go to a sex party again, but that would only deepen the wrong type of bond. I don’t want that to be all there is between us. I’ve not thought that way since Shannon. Look how that ended. Perhaps it’s best that Carly and I keep to the same boundaries. She can be a babysitter during the day, and my dirty little slut at night. That way we can both be happy.

  I meet Carly’s eyes and smile. She smiles back, but it quickly turns into a frown. I’m about to ask if everything is okay when a shadow falls over me. I look up at a tall, slender woman wearing such a thin bikini that she might as well be naked.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “Parker? It’s me.”

  She kneels down next to me and takes off her shades. I take off mine, but it doesn’t help me recognize her. I’m not great with faces, so apologizing for forgetting people is an occupational hazard.

  I squint and pretend the sun is in my eyes. “Sorry, where do I know you from?”

  I’m expecting her to look disappointed, but instead, she smiles and leans over to whisper in my ear. “You’re used to me wearing a mask. A red one with gold trim. I went by the name of Honey.”

  Yeah, now I remember.

  “Hi, Honey,” I reply awkwardly.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  I quickly filter through my memories of this woman. Honey. Immature, but very willing. She didn’t like playing a sub, but she followed my instructions. I labeled her as a gold digger and dropped her once she got too clingy. That was a long time ago now, before Shannon, although women don’t forget me quickly.

  She’s clearly not gotten any better at being a sub, because approaching me when I’m with my child and another woman is crossing many lines.

  “You should leave,” I whisper back, hoping that will encourage her to keep the conversation quiet.

  “I haven’t seen you around lately. I’m back on the scene after breaking up with my piece-of-shit ex. I heard about your… problems.”

  “There are no problems. Now get lost.”

  Her complete lack of emotional reaction tells me that she’s still in this for the money. It also says a lot for how I treated her back then. She’s used to me dismissing her. She’s used to having to beg for it, and she’s not used to caring about whether or not I’m with another woman. I look over to Carly and see that she’s taking Olivia to the sea, out of earshot. Thank fuck for that.

  Honey notices that we’ve been left alone, and runs her finger over my chest. “You’re the only man who’s ever fucked me in the ass. It’s still nice and tight. You want another go, baby?”

  I grab her firmly by the wrist and growl in her ear. “You never were good at following instructions, but you’re going to listen to this one. Leave me alone.” The message gets through, but she looks hurt. I grab my phone from bag. “Take this number, and tell him I sent you. He’ll set you up with an invitation for a very exclusive party. You’ll meet far better men than me there.”

  “Thanks,” she replies cheerfully
, as if I hadn’t just admonished her. She kisses me on the cheek and walks away.

  Carly and Olivia are having fun splashing each other in the water. I’m desperate to go and join them, but I decide to make a phone call first.

  “Hey, Parker,” Marie says, “what’s up?”

  “Are you free tonight?”

  “Depends. Are you asking if I want to hang out with my big brother, or if I want to babysit?”

  “Uh, babysit.”

  “In that case, I’m free.”

  “Thanks. Just busy with work.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re at work. It sounds like you’re at the beach. So why do you really want me to babysit tonight? Monday night is an unusual time for one of your little parties, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not for a party,” I reply. “I have a date.”

  “You’re kidding? Wow, it’s been a long time since you’ve been on a normal date.”

  “I don’t actually have a date yet, but I’m hoping I will.”

  “Interesting,” Marie replies, drawing the word out for an entire breath. “So you haven’t asked her yet. You’re not at work, so it’s no one from there. That means—”

  “Yes, okay, Sherlock. Stop dragging it out. It’s Carly. Assuming she says yes.”

  Marie squeals with delight down the phone. “I was hoping you’d say that. She’s so cool, and I think you two would be a great fit. Plus, Olivia loves her.”

  “Don’t get carried away. We haven’t gone out on a date yet, so it’s a little early to be saying that.”

  I decide not to tell Marie that Carly and I have already done more intimate stuff than the average boss and employee. I don’t care who knows, but I’m sure Carly would appreciate the discretion.

  “I have my fingers crossed for you. And Olivia can sleep here in case things go really well.”

  “I don’t think Carly is that kind of girl,” I lie.

  “It’s always the quiet ones,” Marie says. “Michael didn’t expect me to put out on the first date, but we barely made it to the bedroom.”

  “That’s great to know.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m in all day, so bring Olivia over whenever it’s convenient. I’ve got a few new toys for her to play with.”

  “Thanks, sis. It means a lot.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Later.”

  Marie’s a star, but whenever I tell her that she gets embarrassed and punches me on the arm like we’re teenagers again.

  Okay, the babysitting is sorted. Now I have some apologizing to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carly

  Parker gave her his number.

  I tried not to look, but not hard enough, apparently. I heard more of the conversation than I wanted to, so I took Olivia into the water and tried to focus on having fun with her. Then I saw them take out their phones. They obviously exchanged numbers.

  I wonder if he’ll bother with an excuse. He doesn’t owe me an explanation. We’re not dating, and we’re definitely not exclusive. He’s perfectly entitled to fool around with skinny blonde bitches who throw themselves at him in front of his young child. And I’m not at all bitter about it.

  “Got you,” Olivia exclaims joyfully, as she slams her tiny fist into the ocean and splashes me with water.

  “You little monkey. I might have to dunk you in the water.”

  “No,” she yells out, closing her eyes tightly.

  “One,” I say, lifting her up into the air, “two… three.” I lower her down quickly as if she’s falling but stop just short of dunking her head under the water.

  Olivia splashes me again, which she seems to find endlessly amusing. Parker is on the phone now. Probably a business call. I’d prefer him to be working than talking to pretty blonde bimbos. Shit, have I always been this insecure?

  Yes. Yes, I have.

  We’re deep enough in the sea that the water is above my waist. I still don’t look skinny, but at first glance, most people—especially men—just see a big pair of tits. I prefer that to them seeing my big ass. You can spot the women who are comfortable in their skin from a mile off because they’re casually playing in the water at barely ankle height, usually screeching and pretending they can’t catch a ball just to appear girly to the muscular guys that adorn this beach. Christ, I hate LA sometimes.

  Other times, it’s cool. Like when the hottest guy on the beach slowly walks towards me with all those pretty women stopping to stare at him. Parker’s walking towards his daughter, but they don’t know that I’m not his wife and mother to this child.

  I smile as he approaches, knowing it will make every other woman jealous. Besides, I don’t technically have a reason to be mad at him. I’ve never been one for making men feel like shit over the little things. I much prefer saving my energy for the times they really act like tools. Then I let loose.

  “Sorry about that,” Parker says, taking Olivia from me as she reaches out for Daddy. “Former acquaintance. One with no class, apparently.”

  “It’s okay,” I reply, perhaps a little too casually. “Turns out Olivia much prefers playing in the sea to building sandcastles anyway.” Right on cue, Olivia swings her arm into the water and splashes Parker, before erupting in a fit of the most adorable laughter I’ve ever heard.

  “I spoke to Marie a minute ago and she’s agreed to babysit Olivia tonight.”

  I frown. “I’m free tonight, and I’d be more than happy to work late if you’re going out. It’s not like my day has been all that stressful so far.”

  “Actually, I’m hoping you do have plans for tonight. That’s my awkward way of asking if you’ll come to dinner with me.”

  That sure sounds like a date, but I’ve been wrong before. Please don’t ruin this one by telling me you’ll pay for my time. Screw it, after what Parker and I have done, subtlety seems a bit pointless.

  “Do you mean a date?” I ask.

  “Yeah. That’s the plan. A friend is opening a restaurant and asked me to come for the test run to give my opinion on the food.”

  “Is it a fried egg restaurant?”

  “No,” Parker replies with a smile. “Italian. I’ll have you know, I’m quite the connoisseur when it comes to Italian food.”

  “Really? Because judging by your cooking—”

  “I never said I could cook it.”

  I smile. “Alright, sounds like fun. I’m in.”

  We drop Olivia off at Aunty Marie’s and make the slow drive into Hollywood for our date. Parker undersold the restaurant. His ‘friend’ just so happens to be a Michelin-star chef, and the restaurant opening has a movie premiere feel to it, with an actual red carpet outside the front door. I assumed this was typical Hollywood overkill, until I got inside and looked around the room. I’m not great with faces or celebrity culture in general, but even I recognize a few people who have walked real red carpets in their time.

  Once we sit down, I don’t care who else is in the room. None of them are more interesting than the man seated opposite from me, although his usual charm and confidence are notably lacking.

  He hasn’t done this much before.

  I always assume that men as good-looking as Parker have dated hundreds of women, but Parker doesn’t date. He meets women and has his fun with them before moving on. He’s brought me here because he thinks I’m the type of woman who needs dating in addition to all the kinky sex. How long will it be before he decides I’m not worth the effort? I saw one of his former ‘acquaintances’ at the beach today. He had fun with her once. Maybe they even went on a date. Then he got bored and moved on. I’d bet good money that happened when she tried to get serious.

  Is it possible to have both a genuine, loving relationship and a sex life as exciting as ours? I don’t want to choose between the two, but with Parker, I might have to.

  “Do you want to go to a bar?” Parker asks after dinner. “There’s a great little place about a five-minute walk from here.”

  “When you say ‘great little place,’ do you
actually mean an exclusive bar full of celebrities? Because you definitely undersold the restaurant.”

  “There may be celebrities there,” Parker admits. “But none of them have a patch on you.”

  I smile, even though he sounds a little cheesy. He’s only asking me to the bar because it’s what you do on dates. I know that’s not what he actually wants.

  “Let’s go home,” I say, before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been a naughty girl, and need to be punished.”

  Parker moans gently in my ear and presses his body against mine. His cock is still soft, but I can feel it pulsing and coming to life.

  The traffic is mercifully light on the way home, but the journey still feels like a lifetime. Just thinking about belonging to Parker again has me fidgeting in my seat, and fighting the urge to place his hand between my legs. During the day, I’m practically part of the family. He places his complete trust in me to look after his daughter. At night, I’m his to do with as he pleases, and I trust him to look after my body. He’s never disappointed.

  “Before we get started,” Parker says, as we step inside the house. “I want to show you something. Something big.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “I’ve already seen that.”

  He laughs. “I mean ‘big’ as in ‘significant.’ For us.”

  “Okay,” I reply slowly. “I’m interested.”

  Parker takes my hand and leads me up the stairs towards the bedroom. He steps into the bedroom but tells me to wait outside. Thirty seconds later he comes back out holding a single key. The key doesn’t look like it goes with a pair of handcuffs. It’s much more like a key to open a door.

  Oh shit, I think I know what the key is for.

  Parker leads the way to the locked door that I’d almost forgotten about. I see it every day, but I’ve never even let myself be curious about what’s on the other side. Tami would say it’s suspicious and linked to his dead wife. Perhaps that’s why I don’t think about it.

  “It’s time for you to see what’s behind this door,” Parker says, as he slides in the key and unlocks it.