A Daddy for Mother's Day

by Natalie Knight

  When I leave the studio, I get in my car and dial Keagan’s number. It plays over the car’s stereo so I can talk while I drive. The phone rings for a while. I expect the call to roll over to voicemail, but then he answers.

  “Johnson.”

  “You sound so professional over the phone,” I say.

  “Dana,” he says, and his voice is immediately warmer. “What a surprise. How are you doing?”

  I swallow. I can’t do this over the phone.

  “Fine. I was wondering. Are you free tonight?”

  “Why?” he asks without giving me an answer.

  “Do you want to go out to dinner? Catch up? We haven’t really spent time together in a while.”

  I hear him turning pages. He’s checking his schedule to see if he can fit me in.

  “You can’t be that busy,” I point out.

  “Says who?”

  He’s teasing me. I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s always teasing me, getting on my damn nerves.

  “You haven’t said no yet,” I point out.

  Keagan chuckles.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tonight. Where are we going?”

  “We can go to Far Bar again,” I say. “It’s casual, and the food is good.”

  “No,” Keagan says immediately. “Let’s do something nicer. I don’t want to spend my life in a bar. Meet me at Bestia.”

  “The Italian place?”

  “That’s the one.”

  I drive when the light turns green.

  I hear more page flipping. “I have a meeting with some technicians after work, but I’ll meet you once it’s finished. Let’s say seven? I should be done by then.”

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”

  I hang up and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The call went better than expected. At least he’s willing to see me.

  I don’t know how I’m going to ask him for help, but I’m going to have to do something. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

  Honestly, I just want to be able to relax for a change and not worry about the future.

  But relaxing around Keagan is easier said than done, for reasons I don’t even want to admit to myself.

  Keagan

  I manage to get home before I need to head over to the restaurant. The meeting with the technicians threatened to take forever. That brainy bunch has all the time in the world. Night-time is their favorite, and they could go on arguing algorithms until fucking dawn.

  I wanted to get home to get ready for my date with Dana.

  Dinner, I remind myself. A catch-up session. Not a goddamn date.

  I jump into the shower. I soap up my body and my hands slide over my cock. I’m already rock-hard. I palm myself and slide my hand up and down my throbbing shaft a few times, but I let it go. There’s no time.

  I rinse, get out, and dry off before I pull fresh clothes from my closet. Black jeans, an aqua shirt, black shoes, and the chain around my neck she bought me for Christmas. I finger comb my wet hair to the side and let it dry by itself. I run a razor over my chin, pat on aftershave that stings like a motherfucker, and leave my apartment again.

  The drive to Bestia from my apartment at South Park by Windsor is quick, and I pull into a parking spot just after seven. I’m only a couple of minutes late. I’m nervous. I’ve grown up with this girl, and she still gets me tongue-tied and hot and bothered without doing anything at all.

  When I walk up to the front door, a flash goes off in my face. Then another, and another, and I sigh. Fuck.

  They fucking follow me around sometimes. I smile and pose for a photo or two. This is my life now, famous and frustrating whether I ask for it or not. When I’ve done my part, I walk into the restaurant where the paparazzi isn’t allowed to follow. Thank God.

  The restaurant has an industrial vibe, but it’s a cozy place. When I walk in, I see Dana sitting at a table already. I tell the hostess I’m meeting someone and walk straight to her. I only have a second to study her before she looks up and sees me, and she’s fucking breath-taking. As always.

  She gets up, smiling. She’s wearing a dress that hugs her curves in all the right ways. It catches her leg mid-thigh. Her legs are long and tan. I want so badly for her to wrap them around my hips. Heels made her ass look fucking fantastic. I can’t see it now because she’s facing me, but I’ve looked at her ass enough times in my life to know this for a fact.

  When she hugs me, I smell her perfume, subtle, floral. I breathe in deeply, and it drives me fucking crazy. Her tits push against my chest, and I’m hyper aware of them. When she sits down, her dress gapes just enough to show me the swells of her perfect tits.

  I swallow hard. My cock is straining in my pants, pulling against my boxer briefs, begging to be let loose. I don’t want her to see how crazy she makes me, so I crash down onto the chair so my hips are below the table.

  Dana laughs. The sound of her voice is like velvet on my skin. My cock twitches like she’s wrapped that sexy mouth around it.

  “How are you doing?” I ask. I need conversation to distract me.

  She shrugs. “I’m alright. I’ve had a rough month. How about you? I see they’re hounding you again outside.”

  I nod. “They’re always like that. I hardly ever get a break.”

  The waiter joins us, and I glance up at him.

  “What will it be?” he asks. He’s speaking to Dana, smiling. Guys always respond well to her. I don’t fucking blame them, but it still irritates the hell out of me. After we order something to drink, the waiter disappears again.

  “I’m sorry about the other night,” Dana says. “I was rude.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t apologize.”

  “No, I want to. It was unnecessary. You’re always just looking out for me.”

  I shrug. “You know I care.”

  She nods. She fiddles with her fork. My eyes slide to her tits again. When she sighs, her chest heaves, moving up and down, and I swallow hard.

  I look at her face when she looks up at me, so I’m not caught staring. She looks nervous, unsure. Why did she ask me out to dinner? I have a feeling there’s more to it than just catching up.

  “How’s work going?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I don’t really get along with Jen.”

  I nod. I’ve heard from Susan, my stepmom, that Dana has been having it hard at work for a while now.

  “She’s intimidated,” I say.

  Dana laughs. “Mom also said that.”

  “She’s right. You’re tough to compete with. You always have been.”

  She smiles and her dimples show. She tips her head to the side and runs her hand down her neck. It’s a normal gesture. I follow her hand with my eyes. I imagine her skin to be soft and delicate. I want to kiss it. Lick it. Bite it.

  “And you?” she asks. I look at her again. “How’s work going for you?” She’s oblivious to my thoughts.

  I shift in my chair, tugging at my buckle.

  I shrug. “It’s going well. We’re expanding. Again. We can’t keep up with the number of users signing on.”

  “You’re doing very well. Sociable is a hit. I don’t have any friends that aren’t already on it.”

  “Well, it pays the bills,” I say dryly.

  Dana laughs. I want her to keep doing that. I fucking love it when she’s laughing, when it goes all the way up to her eyes. She hooks her hair behind her ear. She’s wearing long earrings that make her movements seem more graceful.

  The waiter finally brings our drinks. I’ve asked for a soda. I don’t want to lose control tonight and say something stupid. Dana ordered alcohol. She seems nervous, and I can’t figure out why. When we order food and the waiter disappears again, I take a sip of my soda.

  “Your hair looks great like that,” I say.

  Dana smiles, touching her head lightly. “You noticed.”

  “Of course. It suits you.”

  Her dimples appear again.

 
We spend the night speaking about trivial things. We eat pasta, we laugh, and everything is the way it always is, light and pointless. But now, I want to know what’s bothering her.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to keep pretending everything is fine?”

  She glances up at me. Her face is serious again, her lips slightly parted. Full lips. Delicious lips. Lips I want wrapped around my cock.

  “I forget how well you know me,” she says.

  I shrug.

  She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.

  “Well, you asked how work is going. The answer, to be honest, is terrible. I got fired.”

  I widen my eyes. “What the hell, Dana?”

  She nods, looking down at her nearly empty plate. “It’s been a few weeks now, actually. I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “Why the fuck not?” I frown at her.

  She shrugs. “Because everyone is doing so well. You’ve got Sociable, and Mom and Chris have the studio, and my friends are all successful now. I didn’t want to be the only one that’s failing. I’ve been looking for a job but nothing has gone through yet, and I’m in trouble now.”

  I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. It’s warm and soft. She glances up at me.

  “Tell me how I can help,” I say and let my fingers linger on her skin only a moment longer before I pull my hand back. Before I let my mind drift to other places I want to touch her.

  She looks like she might cry. She swallows hard, not meeting my eyes. “I’m getting evicted now. If you could just help me out with a bit of cash, so I can find a place to stay while I sort this out, it would be a huge help. I really hate asking.”

  I shake my head. “You can always ask me. I’ll do you one better, though. Why don’t you come to stay with me for a while? You don’t have to worry about cash then, and you can find a new job without all the pressure of needing to survive.”

  The words are out of my mouth before I can think better of them.

  Dana blinks at me. “I won’t impose?”

  I chuckle. “We grew up together, remember? It will be like the good old days.”

  Fuck, what am I thinking? The good old days? When all I did was jerk off to thoughts of her. Jesus, it’s not like much has changed there, though.

  She swallows again.

  “I have enough money to cover your expenses for a while, and I won’t see you end up on the streets,” I say, apparently rolling with this fucking terrible idea.

  Finally, she nods.

  “Thank you,” she says in a thin voice. “I hate that all this is happening.”

  Dana has always been independent and proud. She doesn’t like taking help from others, and she’ll never ask for it.

  So even though I know this can’t be a good idea, I’m still glad she’s agreeing to come stay with me. I want to help her any way I can.

  Having her in my house would be amazing.

  Although, seeing her again every day might make it hard. No pun intended. And no might about it.

  She’ll be around all the time, and I’m already struggling to contain myself as it is. What am I doing here?

  But I don’t want to fucking turn her down, and if I have to be sexually frustrated for a while just to have her with me, just to take care of her like I have this burning need to do, then so be it.

  “When do you need to be out?” I ask.

  She looks down and bites her lip. “Two days from now. I left it until the last second, I know. I hoped something would come through by now.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the day off tomorrow, and we’ll go to your place and sort it out. Okay?”

  Dana nods and looks up at me, something shining in her eyes that I don’t quite recognize.

  “Thank you, Keagan. It means a lot.”

  “Of course,” I say. “I already said it, but I’ll say it again. You know I care.”

  When the evening comes to an end, I pay for the bill. She protests, but I don’t let her fight me on it. We get up and she steps toward me. She looks up at me. She’s almost a full head shorter than me, but with her heels on—fuck, they’re sexy—she can almost look me straight in the eye.

  “Thanks, Keagan,” she says again, and she wraps her arms around me in a hug.

  I don’t hesitate to hold onto her. Her body is lithe and petite in my arms. Her tits, her hips, I feel them all. My body responds, and I feel my cock straining in my pants yet again. I let go of her, pushing her gently away so she won’t feel how I’m about to rip right through my pants and give her a full-on salute.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” I say. “Go home and relax. We’ve got this covered.”

  She nods, still looking at me. My gaze lingers on her lips for a second before I turn toward the door.

  “Better not walk out with me if you don’t want to be swarmed with paparazzi,” I say, grimacing.

  She leaves first, and I wait a while before I leave, too. There are only one or two cameras outside when I walk through the door, but it’s enough for the world to know whether I left the restaurant alone or not.

  While I drive home, I think about Dana. Her pride gets in the way sometimes, but there’s something to be said for her strength. It’s fucking sexy.

  She’s always been independent, and there’s nothing more attractive in a woman than the ability to fend for herself. And she’s going to be in my apartment for a while.

  The thought makes me horny as fuck. I’ve been biting down on my lust all evening. When I get home, I climb out of my clothes and get in bed, naked. My cock strains against the sheets, and I move, letting the friction work me up. I slide my hand over my abs and palm my throbbing cock.

  Fuck, I want her. I close my eyes and picture her, trying to imagine what she might look like naked. I want every inch of her, and I want her to beg me to take it.

  My hand pumps up and down, and I try to imagine that it’s her body wrapped around my cock, her hot, wet pussy, and not my own fingers.

  When I come, it’s drawn out and fucking intense and I groan. I twitch and jerk in my hand, hot cum shooting out of my cock as I groan her name.

  But when it’s over, I’m not nearly as satisfied as I want to be. And I wonder if having her in my house is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, or the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

  Dana

  I can’t believe I had to ask Keagan for help. I’m relieved that he agreed. Last night, he kept telling me that he cared. It’s good to know that I have somewhere I can go, even if it was hard to ask. I hate asking for help, but sometimes, things slip out of my control.

  I’m dressed and ready to go at seven in the morning. When I came back after dinner last night, I didn’t go right to bed, even though I was exhausted. I packed up everything I could in the few boxes and bags I had. I don’t want Keagan to come here and see my life turned inside out, the way it feels.

  I want to have something ready for him, at least.

  Now, while I wait, I’m wrapping glasses and mugs in newspaper. I don’t have boxes to put them in, but at least, this will be half the work done.

  When my doorbell rings, Keagan stands in front of me, bright and fresh. His blond hair is damp, like he just stepped out of the shower. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, moving clothes, but he still looks put together.

  “Morning,” he says cheerfully. Behind him, four men are getting out of a truck in the road. They unload collapsed cardboard boxes.

  “You brought company?” I ask.

  Keagan nods. “Yeah, they’re here to help. I figured you needed a few people to get through it quickly. I brought boxes, too.”

  I swallow hard. He’s being so nice to me. Everything is overwhelming.

  My mom was right. Keagan was a good person to turn to, and apparently, he will do a lot for me. Keagan steps inside and puts his hand on my shoulder. His hand is large and warm. When he looks at me, his blue eyes are piercing
.

  “Where would you like us to start?” he asks.

  I lead Keagan to the kitchen and show him what I’ve done so far.

  “Wrapping them was a great idea,” he says. He calls the guys inside. They tape up a cardboard box and start packing.

  “It’s big of you to hire a team,” I say. It will go so much quicker with these guys jumping in as well.

  Keagan nods. “Let’s leave them to it here and sort out your office. What do you say?”

  I follow him to my office. I haven’t touched it. My shelf is full of books, my desk has folders all over it, and I have boxes full of swatches and fabric samples. Keagan stands with his hands on his hips, looking around.

  I don’t know what living with Keagan again will be like. It’s easily been ten years since we’ve lived together in the same place. I’ve gotten used to having my own space and doing my own thing. It will be strange falling into someone else’s routine again, and abiding by someone else’s rules.

  We were always close, so I don’t think it will be a problem. When he first moved in so many years ago, being in the same house as the boy I had a crush on was hard. It was even harder that I wasn’t allowed to like him anymore. Somehow, we’d gotten over liking each other and fell into a comfortable rhythm.

  Sometimes, out of nowhere, I still see Keagan as the guy I crushed on and not the one that became my brother. Not that it matters. I doubt he feels the same about me. Don’t guys get over their crushes easily? I’m the only one holding onto something that never got a chance to exist.

  Keagan walks out of the room again, and his scent stays behind. It smells like soap, clean and fresh, and I breathe in deeply. He returns with two collapsed boxes and tape. He tapes up the boxes and puts them down in the middle of the floor.

  “How about you start with those files,” he says, pointing to my portfolios. “I’ll handle the books?”

  I nod. It’s difficult having people rummage through my things. I feel like they’re pulling me apart, seeing every side of me that I can choose to hide under normal circumstances. With Keagan, I don’t mind it so much, but the other guys make me feel uncomfortable.