Single Dad’s Plaything: A Single Dad First Time Billionaire Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  A tall, distinguished looking man with salt and pepper hair wearing a neat suit sat at the head of the table. This was clearly Cheryl’s father. Malcolm Jennings. Billionaire mogul and the little university’s largest donor.

  Next to him sat a man who looked much younger but equally distinguished. He had dark blonde hair cut neatly in what Emily thought of as “the Business man’s trim” and a dimple graced his right cheek when he smiled.

  The two men straightened up and stopped talking immediately when Cheryl, Emily and Kurt entered the room.

  “I hope you two weren’t talking business, daddy,” Cheryl said. “We’re just about to eat.”

  “Nothing important honey,” the older man said leaning back in his seat and giving his daughter an indulgent grin before his hazel eyes landed on Emily and narrowed suspiciously.

  “I take it we have another guest for dinner?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes! Sorry!” Cheryl said with a small chuckle moving towards Emily and ushering her towards the table. “Daddy, Hamilton, this is Emily. She’s Kurt’s teaching assistant and she’s been helping him write his new book.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Hamilton said standing and moving forward to give Emily his hand. His shake was strong. Stronger than Emily was prepared for and she began to feel like her hand might break. “It’s also nice to hear that Kurt might start making some real money from those books he writes.”

  Though Hamilton chuckled at that last line, Emily couldn’t help but wince. Especially when she saw Kurt’s face fall out of the corner of her eye.

  “Hamilton, don’t be crass. Kurt makes enough,” Mr. Jennings said. He stood and shook Emily’s hand as well. “And we’re always happy to have someone from the college over. I know we’ve got a lot of talent over there.”

  Not sure whether she should thank Mr. Jennings for that, she did her best to smile before sitting down next to Mr. Jennings and across the table from Kurt.

  “So, how do you think the book’s coming?” Mr. Jennings asked her when they were seated comfortably. “I know I’ve heard good things about it from Kurt, but, I wouldn’t mind getting a female perspective.”

  “It’s mostly women who read that sort of thing, right?” Hamilton said.

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. “I mean, I guess more women tend to be interested in art history than men.”

  “But, Vangoh” he said. “Isn’t the sensitive, tortured soul more of a soft subject? The kind women are drawn to?”

  Though his tone was casual, Emily saw him give a glance and a smirk to Cheryl who was sitting next to him as he said it. She smiled back as though he’d brought up some kind of inside joke the two of them shared. Whatever the joke was, it was completely lost on Emily.

  “Lots of men have written about Vangoh,” Emily said. “The folk musician, Don Maclean even wrote a song about him.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Hamilton said dismissively. “Sensitive men like that stuff, I guess. But, I don’t know. I’ve always like the modern artists better. Picasso, Dali. They just seem…tougher to me. More masculine.”

  At the word masculine, Hamilton shared another secret smile with Cheryl which she returned.

  “I’ve always liked the moderns too,” Cheryl said. “So, it’s not only men who like tough and masculine paintings.”

  When Emily glanced across the table, and saw the slight coloring in Kurt’s cheeks as he looked down at the wood table, it confirmed what she’d begun to suspect. They weren’t talking about artists or paintings. Not really.

  Hamilton had started a kind of pissing contest between himself and Kurt. One which Cheryl was thoroughly enjoying and which Kurt, clearly, had no interest in joining in.

  Well, if he wouldn’t stand up for himself, she would have to do it for him.

  “I guess you have a point,” Emily said. “Women tend to like the interesting, nuanced and intelligent work of Vangoh and even Paul Gaugin a lot more than the brash strokes of Picasso. I think the book reflects that so far. I’ve always found the modern stuff a little shallow, myself.”

  She smirked as her eyes met Hamilton’s with a sort of challenge. And, though he chuckled again at her, she noticed that he did not seem quite so bold or cocky as he did a minute ago.

  “Well, I guess we can agree to disagree,” he said.

  “Come to think of it,” Mr. Jennings said “Cheryl did say she didn’t want any business talk at the table. I just realized that probably applies to Emily and Kurt’s work too.”

  “I don’t know if writing a book about art is exactly on the same par as what you and Ham are doing, daddy,” Cheryl said. Once again, Emily looked across the table and saw Kurt wince slightly at the slight.

  “Still, I’m sure Emily wouldn’t mind getting off the subject of old, dead artists for a change.”

  “It’s fine,” Emily said. “I can always talk about art.”

  Cheryl blinked at her, fake smile still in place. Though, now it looked as though she was trying to size Emily up. Trying to decide whether Emily with her wild hair, curvy frame and no makeup might constitute a threat to her.

  “Even if you can, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up,” Cheryl said. “With that in mind, I think I should bow out and go check on the chicken.”

  As the other woman stood from her seat and glided towards the kitchen, Emily could not help but notice that she lightly touched Hamilton’s shoulder and gave him a light smile. Kurt, she ignored entirely.

  The habit of ignoring Kurt continued through the rest of the dinner. Despite Cheryl’s previous ban on business talk, Mr. Jennings and Hamilton could not help but rave about the large deal they had just close for their real-estate business.

  “I’ve been helping with this merger,” Hamilton bragged, sipping his second glass of wine. “We’re getting a lot out of it. Much more than the other company is.”

  “Which, of course, results in raises,” Mr. Jennings said. “I might even have enough to get you that new car you’ve been eyeing for your birthday, Cheryl.”

  “You should probably save it and get a new one for Kurt instead,” Cheryl said. “He’s been driving that beat-up Toyota since we met.”

  “She still works fine,” Kurt said. “I just need something to get me to and from work. That’s all.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Ham put in. “Six years is way too long to be driving the same car. Besides, don’t you want a car with some class? Some character?”

  “Mine’s got plenty of character, thanks,” Kurt said evenly.

  Having no opinion on cars or mergers, Emily was glad that she wasn’t required to speak much during the rest of the dinner. Occasionally, she would meet Kurt’s eye. They would look at each other with more than a hint of understanding.

  She had a feeling that, even though this was Kurt’s family, he was just as much of an outsider at this table as she was.

  When dinner finally ended, Emily was already forming a plan in her head to make an excuse and duck out. It was clear that she wasn’t going to be able to get Kurt on his own in this house. And it was even more clear that coming to talk to him face to face was a bad idea.

  Audrey was right. She should have just sent an email.

  But, before she could say a word, Kurt spoke to the table in general.

  “Honey, do you mind if Emily and I duck into my office for just a few minutes?” he asked. “We need to get these pages finalized by tonight so I can get them to my editor in the morning.”

  “Sure,” Cheryl said with an unconcerned wave of her hand. Not even turning to look at her husband. “Take all the time you need.”

  As both Emily and Kurt stood and made their way out of the dining room, Emily could not help but notice that Cheryl had pushed herself very close to Hamilton’s.

  Chapter Seven

  They didn’t speak as Kurt led the way up the stairs. They turned right instead of left at the top of the stairwell and Emily couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at the door to the bedroom.

&nbs
p; It was hard to believe that she and Kurt had been in there just one night before. It felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. Last night had felt like a dream. This afternoon felt as though she’d woken up into a nightmare.

  An awkward, difficult nightmare.

  Kurt opened the office door and ushered her inside.

  Kurt’s home office looked as cluttered and sloppy as his office at the university did. Books and papers crumpled and torn, lay around the desk. Pens of various colors and shapes were tossed haphazardly in multiple different places.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Kurt said closing the door behind him. “I had no idea she’d be coming in today. I got back from my meeting at the college and she was here.”

  “Don’t apologize, I should have called or texted first,” she said. “I thought about it but…I just didn’t know if I could say what I have to over the phone.”

  “And what do you have to say?”

  Kurt asked. He sounded casual, curious. As though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them at all. As though she really had just come in here to go over some pages of the book with him.

  Emily’s eyes widened as she looked at him with a hint of disbelief.

  “Well, you did say that we could talk about what happened,” she said pointedly.

  “Oh. That.”

  His position changed and he looked at the floor. His hands twisted and his face went red as though she’d just uttered a shameful secret in front of a huge crowd. But, it was just the two of them in the room. She hadn’t expected him to be so embarrassed when it was just her.

  “Did you think I’d forget?” she asked. “Because that’s not something you do and forget about. At least I don’t.”

  “No I…I guess I didn’t expect you to forget,” he said. “Just…with Cheryl coming home and everything, I’m not sure this is the best time to discuss it.”

  Emily rolled her eyes and heaved an audible sigh of frustration. Kurt was doing exactly what he always did when he was confronted with some personal decision. Put it off. Bury himself in work or art or anything else hoping that the problem would go away.

  But, this time, she was the problem and she wasn’t going to go away that easily.

  “If we don’t talk about it now, when will we talk about it?” she asked, her arms folded.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Later.”

  “Kurt, I know you well enough to know that later never comes with you,” she said. “But, if you don’t want to talk then you can at least listen to what I’ve decided.”

  For the first time since they’d entered the room, he met her eye. His embarrassment disappeared and he looked at her critically.

  “What have you decided?” he asked quietly. There was something like fear there. As though he was worried he knew what her answer would be.

  When she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t help but remember what she’d seen there last night. That passion and desire. His sheer need for her as he pressed her against the door.

  Deciding that she couldn’t do this while looking at him, she turned her eyes downward and began to pace about the room.

  “I…think…as great as last night was…it was a mistake,” she said haltingly. The words sounded hollow and rehearsed even to her own ears.

  “You do?” he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. It sounded shaky and pained. Emily knew she wouldn’t be able to give him a verbal response. So, she continued with the speech she’d practiced in the car on the way over.

  “You’re married,” she said. “And you’re also my boss. If anyone found out, I could lose my scholarship and you could lose your job.”

  “What if they didn’t find out?” he asked. She heard rather than saw him cross the room to her. She kept her eyes turned away and her head down. She’d already set up rules for this confrontation. She wouldn’t answer any of his questions until she was done with the speech.

  Sort of like a press conference with only one reporter.

  “And, just because of all that…I really don’t think we should work in the same place anymore. I can still help with the book. We’ll just do it all over the computer.”

  “Emily,” he said gently. His voice was very close to her. Much closer than she needed it to be. His arm brushed against her and she tried to move away, her eyes still pressed to the floor. When she did, his hand reached out and cupped her chin, guiding her eyes from the floor to meet with his.

  Emily suppressed a shudder when she looked at him. Those grey eyes were searching her, as though trying to peer into her soul. Trying to break into her heart and discover all her deepest secrets.

  “Is that what you really want?” he asked, his voice, once more, a whisper. His thumb moved gently over her jaw and his lips were close to hers, so close that she could feel his warm breath when he spoke. That musty scent of old books and aftershave and parchment filled her completely.

  She should have done this by email.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to keep saying what she’d practiced.

  “I…I think it’s best- “

  “I don’t care about what’s best,” he said. His hand underneath her chin became slightly firm. It reminded her of his growl the night before. How fiercely he’d grabbed her and handled her. Her cheeks grew flush and a pool of desire began to spread between her legs. “I care about what you want.”

  His whisper was back and he leaned closer to her, the hand under her jaw slid down her neck caressing the skin at her collar bone.

  “What do you want, Emily?” he asked. His lips hovered just above hers and, in that moment, despite what she’d planned, despite all her best intentions, she knew what the answer to that question had to be.

  “You,” she whispered. “I want you.”

  For half a second she saw that fire and passion return to his eyes before he wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her forward so that their lips met.

  His mouth on hers was every bit as hungry and desperate as it had been last night. But, this time, there was something else there too. A sense of validation. As though she was here, in this room, to prove that Kurt Schmidt was a man.

  It was as though he needed Emily to prove his worth. To himself if to no one else.

  In the back of her mind, Emily knew that she should feel used. That this was not healthy. But, when his tongue swirled so expertly in her mouth, when his hand moved underneath her shirt and traced a flame filled path across her skin, she found that she did not have the strength to care.

  His hand moved from her bra filled breasts beneath her shirt to cup her ass. She gasped into his mouth when he picked her up fully and wrapped her legs around him as he moved her across the room.

  She gasped again as he pushed her down, none too gently on the hard, cluttered desk. Moving his mouth from hers, he began fumbling with the button and zipper on her jeans. Taking his lead, she quickly undid his belt and the zipper on his slacks.

  He finished with the jeans first. His fingers reached down to touch her clit and she moaned, stopping her progress on his buttons. He drew another sharp moan when two fingers entered her warm, wet center.

  Knowing they had little time, desperate to feel him fully, she undid his buttons and pulled his slacks and boxers down in one stroke. She barely had time to admire his long, smooth member before he pushed inside of her.

  The growl she’d heard from him the night before returned as he moved in and out of her at a frantic pace. Once more, she knew she was seeing a side of this man that was rarely seen by any one.

  If anyone had told her two weeks ago, that she would hear Kurt Schmidt growl, that she would feel his hands forcing her against walls or his teeth biting down on her skin, she would have laughed.

  It was almost impossible to reconcile the quiet, bookish professor with the man before her. A man who was now moving in and out of her as though he were possessed.

  It did not take long for him to let out a long, final groan int
o the room. With one last flick of his fingers over her clit, she followed. Biting back a loud moan that she was sure, if fully voiced, would echo back downstairs.

  Back to his wife.

  The thought hit her like a bucket of ice water as she came down from her ecstasy. Not even the way Kurt pulled her into a fierce embrace, his hands gently stroking her hair afterward, could cast the thought from her mind.

  His wife was downstairs.

  She’d just had sex with a man while his wife was entertaining guests in another room of the house.

  The word ‘slut’ rang through her mind before she remembered that she was not the only guilty party in this scenario.

  “Do you think they heard us?” Emily asked gently. The question seemed to awaken Kurt from some kind of reverie or sleep. He lifted his hand from her thick red hair and pulled away from her.

  The desperation and hunger in his grey eyes was gone. She’d expected it to be replaced by shame. But, instead, she saw something else. Something like longing when he looked back at her and shook his head.

  “Not a chance,” he said. “Walls are thick in this place. Besides, even if she did hear me, I don’t think Cheryl would care all that much.”

  His face colored at these words and the shame Emily had expected to see when he first looked at her crept back in. Hastily, he bent down and began to pull on his pants, turning away from her as he did.

  Telling herself that she shouldn’t feel offended by this, after all, she was the one who’d said this was a mistake, she turned and followed his lead. Pushing herself off the desk and pulling up her jeans.

  As she dressed, she played what Kurt had said over in her mind.

  ‘I don’t think Cheryl would care all that much.’

  That made Emily think about the way Cheryl and Hamilton looked at each other during dinner. The two of them shared secret smiles and glances not to mention the occasional brush of their hands.

  “Cheryl and Hamilton seem pretty close,” Emily said before she could stop herself. Even though she didn’t have much experience on the subject, she had a feeling that wasn’t the sort of thing you were supposed to say to your married lover after sex, but, she supposed her curiosity had gotten the better of her.