Single Dad's Virgin: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Shoes.”

  I kick my shoes off, conscious of the fact that I could be mooning people as I bend down to pull off my socks too.

  “Good. That’s my good little Kitten.”

  He moves behind me, hands pressing hard into my hips and sliding down to my thighs. His thumbs splay open, tracing the edges of my mound and spreading the electric sensation of his touch all over my body. He moves his hand over my already wet slit and begins to work me, making my knees instantly weak. To my surprise, it’s working. I’m not in the slightest bit of pain, but my body is responding to every single movement of his skillful fingers. It’s not long before I’m shaking, having to squeeze his wrist to keep from falling to my knees with pleasure.

  “Not yet,” he says. “You’re cumming on my cock this time.”

  His words send a fresh pulse of excitement through me. I wait, completely deprived of my sight, feeling as though all my remaining senses are on full alert. I hear the rattle of his belt buckle and his zipper dragging down. I hear him dropping clothes to the ground.

  “On your hands and knees, now,” he commands.

  I obey, getting in position and waiting, still conscious that I have no idea where I am or who could be watching. I’ve put so much trust into him. This time it feels real. It isn’t about pain or submission. He is showing me that I can trust him completely and totally with my life. He’s still showing me that I can trust him. When the head of his cock finds my entrance though, all thoughts of why and how fade into background noise.

  There’s only the perfect fullness of him inside me and the slap of his hips against me. My knees dig into the dirt and I squeeze handfuls of grass tightly, letting my head fall so my cheek presses into the chilly ground.

  I’m getting closer and closer to climax. It builds with every slap of his skin against mine, every plunge of his length into my wetness. And then without warning, he rips the blindfold from my head. I’m overcome by the sudden brightness of it all. The sun, the mountains stretched ahead of me, the sheer emptiness. I see the thin trail we must have come up and realize I really could have been hurt if I veered too far off the path, but he led me here without incident.

  I also see that absolutely nobody is watching. It all comes as such a shock that I feel the building pressure of my orgasm falter. It wavers, suspended, ready to burst, but just out of reach. As if he knows exactly what I need, Logan leans in close until the stubble of his face brushes against my cheek. “You can trust me, Emmaline.”

  It’s the first time he has used my name while we’re having sex, and the sound of it threads into me, doing something strange to my emotions, something warm and full and lovely.

  “You can trust me,” he repeats, moving himself inside me still, slowly now. Tenderly. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, Kitten. I would sacrifice everything. I would do anything. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes,” I say, letting the note of surprise I feel at my answer slip out. I believe him. “I believe you,” I gasp.

  “Then trust me. Give me what you’ve been holding back and I promise you I will never abuse it.”

  I stare into the blindingly beautiful sight ahead of me, wrapped in this moment, in these emotions, and still painfully aware of the orgasm threatening to explode within me or slip away, once and for all.

  “I trust you,” I say. As if the words were a hidden key, my climax tears through me, breaking free with the force of a tsunami, turning my muscles to jelly.

  Logan groans with me, his cock pulsing inside me and filling me to the brim with his hot cum.

  “I love you,” he says, voice raspy and heavy.

  For once, I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I don’t second guess myself. I just speak, and the words come straight from my heart. Straight from the place of trust I can already feel swelling inside me. “I love you, too.”

  39

  Logan

  I’m at the office, wishing I could relax. I couldn’t have hoped for things with Emmaline to go any better. But I can’t enjoy her the way I want until I find a way to put the shit with Ronnie and Dean to rest. I’m hoping Ronnie’s bullshit will end the moment I get my hands on him. I don’t imagine it will be hard to find some charges to run against him and get him locked up for a while. Dean on the other hand, that is more complicated.

  I’ve been locked away in my office all night. I dropped Emmaline off at her place, where I learned her mom is hiding out while Ronnie is still at large. After that, I came straight here to figure out how I’m going to deal with Dean, and I have what I think is the perfect idea.

  There’s a soft knock at the door. I jog over and unlock it, letting in a sheepish man. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His shoulders are bent and narrow from too many years hunched over tax documents and computer screens. You wouldn’t know it from looking at Larry, but he’s the best tax guy in the city.

  “Thanks for coming, Larry.”

  “Sure,” says Larry, removing his glasses to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. “Any time you need me. Literally, I guess.”

  I motion for him to sit across from my desk. I move to lean on my desk, facing him and splaying my hands on the polished wood. “What we talk about here stays in this office. Do you understand? You will be the only person besides myself who knows, so if I hear any of this circulating, I’ll know exactly where it came from.” I fix him with the hardest look I can, making sure he knows I’m serious. I don’t like having to strong arm Larry, but it’s important he obeys.

  “Y-yes. I can keep a secret.”

  I size him up, letting the moment hang between us. “Good,” I say finally. “I believe you.” I spend a few minutes catching him up on everything I know about Dean and what he could do to bring the company down.

  Larry licks his lips when I’ve finished. “I’m sorry to hear it, Mr. Steele, but I don’t see how I fit into all of this?”

  “You’re going to help me bring Dean down. He thinks he has everything there is on the company, but he’s missing one critical file. I have three foreign bank accounts. A portion of sales are discreetly moved to those accounts. I pay taxes on those funds, but a smaller percentage.”

  Larry’s eyes search the floor and I see the gears churning. He’s already figuring out where I’m going with this. “You want to make sure he doesn’t know about those accounts when he takes over control of the company. If someone tipped the IRS about it, he could face serious charges for tax evasion. Incarceration is rare, especially in this case. It would be hard to prove he willfully avoiding filing when there wasn’t clear documentation about the accounts.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I figured as much. That’s just the first nail in the coffin.”

  As if on cue, there’s another knock at my door. I let in Henry, who looks tired, but took the time to put on a polo and some slacks. He nods seriously to me. “Mr. Steel.”

  “Come in, Henry.”

  Larry gives Henry a curious look.

  I dismiss Larry and give Henry the same warning I gave Larry.

  “I need you to do a very big favor that’s of questionable legality.”

  Henry has always been ambitious, and as I hoped, he agrees without pause. “Whatever you need, Mr. Steel.”

  “When Dean takes over the company, he’s going to make it public again. All I need you to do is make sure Dean has this information.” I hand Henry a USB drive. “It has sensitive information about the company detailing the dates some of our deals will close. When we’re publicly traded, these events will all cause the stock to fluctuate. It doesn’t matter if Dean ever looks at these, it’s just important that it’s on his computer. It also has some fake emails saved to an alias I’ve created.”

  “You’re going to make it look like he participated in insider trading?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “He could go to prison for this.”

  “I’m aware,” I say. “Can I count on you?”

  Henry eyes the USB and sig
hs. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure he has this.”

  “Good,” I say, standing and clapping him on the shoulder. “Go get some rest. Sorry to wake you.”

  I watch out the windows of my office, scanning the city below me. If I go through with this plan, I’ll be willfully taking myself out of the tower that looks down on all of it. I’ll be putting myself back on the ground level, positioning myself to work back up to the top. Instead of scaring me or making me angry, the thought is rejuvenating. It will be a fresh start. I never cared as much about the destination as I cared about the journey anyway. And this time, I can start the journey with Emmaline at my side.

  I smile, nodding slowly. A fresh fucking start.

  40

  Emmaline

  My mom has already been staying with me for two days. The plan was to get her a place as soon as I could, but I just haven’t gotten to it yet. It’s after midnight when I wake up to get a glass of water. My mind replays the sensations of the previous day. Being with Logan so completely and so fully was better than anything I’ve ever felt. I don’t think my days of BDSM are behind me by a long shot, but learning I could be with him outside of that was important. It meant everything.

  The thunderstorm outside has been keeping me awake. Every time I’m about to fall asleep, a huge crash booms through the house, making my heart pound. Rain patters hard against the roof and windows, driven so hard by the wind that it’s coming in almost sideways.

  I don’t think Logan knows I spotted the guy he has keeping an eye on me, but the same white car has been parked across the street since I told him about Ronnie. Figuring it out after that wasn’t too hard. I’ve made a habit of peeking at the car. Seeing the man behind the wheel watching has become something of a comfort for me.

  But this time, I see the car door is open and the man is lying on the ground a few feet from the car in the middle of the street. He’s not moving. My brain fills in the gaps with lightning speed.

  The glass of water falls from my hand, shattering on the ground. Shards of glass pelt my bare feet and legs, followed by cold water.

  Ronnie. He’s here. Somewhere. He’s coming for us.

  My phone is by my bed. I rush toward my room as fast as I can. The first step I take brings my foot down on a thick piece of glass and I slip backwards, falling hard and knocking the wind from my lungs.

  At the same moment, the kitchen window shatters and a drunken, soaking wet Ronnie climbs through. Lightning flashes behind him, illuminating the rain that sprays through the window behind him. He clumsily uses the counter to slide down into the kitchen, boots crunching on broken glass. He holds a splintered wooden baseball bat in his hand. There’s a clump of hair wedged beneath one of the splinters.

  My stomach turns over. Did he fucking kill the guy outside? If he would kill a stranger in cold blood, what would he do to us?

  “This has been a long fucking time coming, bitch,” he growls.

  I scoot back, wincing as glass digs into my palms. My foot is an explosion of heat and pain. A trail of slick blood stretches out behind me as I back away from him.

  Ronnie’s voice is slurred, and I can tell from his movements that’s he’s drunk. “First I’ll break your legs so you can’t run. Then I’ll tell that boyfriend of yours he can have you back for a million dollars.” Ronnie laughs deeply and then pauses abruptly to cough something thick up. He spits on the floor.

  “Mom,” I whisper. I try to shout, but my chest feels so tight I can’t push the sound out any louder. It’s like I’m in a dream. Everything feels stiff and foggy.

  He’s stepping closer. Crunch. Crunch. The tip of the bat drags on the ground, paving a path through the shards of glass. I can’t take my eyes off the clump of dark hair. I expect him to swing as soon as he can reach me, and at first, I don’t think I could stop him if he did. I feel helpless.

  It’s only when he falls to his knees and comes closer that the ability to fight rises up. If he thinks he’s going to put his fucking hands on me…

  My head bumps into the cabinet. I run out of room to back up just as my hand comes down on a fist-sized piece of glass. I squeeze it, not caring how it digs into my skin.

  “I’ve always wondered how you would tas--”

  Ronnie’s eyes bulge. His hand comes up slowly as he tips to one side, mouth open and working silently. I’m still gripping the piece of glass that I jammed into his leg when he falls. I rip it free and scoot away as quickly as I can, gasping for breath. I can’t look away from the spot where blood gushes from him, quickly forming a pool beneath his leg. I drop the glass and shakily get to one foot. I cry out as I rip the piece of glass from the bottom of my foot.

  My mom bursts into the room, probably drawn by my scream. “Ronnie!” She shouts.

  I watch, feeling sick when I realize my mom is probably still going to go back to him. I hoped maybe he had finally pushed her beyond her limit, that she was ready to take control of her life again.

  She moves toward him, carefully avoiding stepping on glass with her bare feet. She leans down and I think she’s about to kiss him, but she pulls her hand back and punches Ronnie in the mouth.

  “You stay the fuck away from my daughter. And you stay the fuck away from me. We’re done.”

  I stare in amazement as my mom comes toward me and helps me up, leading me from the kitchen. Once she helps settle me down on the couch, the pain of my injuries finally hits me. And it hits like a truck. My foot is a blaze of agony and my hand is throbbing with icy hot pain from where I gripped the glass to stab Ronnie. To stab Ronnie. God. Vivid images flash in my mind from the last few minutes.

  Ronnie crawling through the window like some demon, backlit by lightning. His face as he knelt down to reach for me. The way the blood oozed from his leg. My mom choosing me over him. I let my head fall back against the couch. “We need to call someone,” I say after a few moments. I doubt Ronnie is going anywhere on his own with the gash in his leg, but we can’t exactly let him just lay bleeding in the kitchen bleeding out all night, either.

  There’s a loud bang and the front door swings open, doubling the sounds of the storm outside. I turn my head to see a tall figure in a suit.

  “Kitten,” says Logan softly. He quickly moves inside, kneeling in front of me and gently touching the skin around my cuts. Anger boils in his features so powerfully that it almost scares me. It would scare me if I didn’t know the anger was from protectiveness and his hatred of seeing me hurt.

  “Thank God you’re here,” I say. I’m about to foolishly wrap my hands around him in a hug, but he stops me with a firm hand.

  “Don’t move. I’m going to get these cleaned and covered.”

  “How did you know to come?” I ask, letting myself sink back into the couch.

  “My PI didn’t send his hourly update.”

  “Uh,” says my mom. “Mr. Steel? Ronnie is in the other room still.”

  Logan stands, turning toward the kitchen door. His fists are clenched at his side and his jaw flexes. He steps through the door and there’s a long silence. My mom and I wait, eyes locked in uncertainty. I don’t know what I’m hoping for or expecting.

  Logan steps back into the living room. His features are dark. “He’s going to bleed to death soon, unless we cut off some of the circulation to his thigh. His femoral artery is severed.”

  I stare in confusion for a moment, wondering why Logan hasn’t already cut off circulation. I realize a second later what he’s saying. He’s asking me. He’s asking if I want Ronnie to die or if I want him to live.

  I look to my mom, and to my surprise, she shrugs. I try to think through the pain throbbing in my hands and feet. I try to look past what I want right now. Revenge. Justice. Pain. I force myself to look past that and focus on what I can live with. I don’t think I could live with myself if I knew I had the power to save his life and I let him die.

  “He’ll go to jail,” I say. “That’s enough.”

  Logan holds my gaze for long enough to tell
me he would rather kill Ronnie, but he disappears into the kitchen and I hear the sound of fabric tearing. Maybe he’s ripping a kitchen towel or something to tie off the leg. Either way, it’s over. We’ll call the police, they’ll take Ronnie away, and I’ll finally be able to focus on putting the pieces of my life back together. Except I won’t be doing it alone this time.

  Epilogue

  Logan

  Four Months Later

  I lean against the far wall, watching Emmaline fuss over the boxes that have been ready for shipment all day. She kneels down brushes off a strand of fabric that fell on one box.

  “Careful,” I say. “Get the boxes too perfect and our customers won’t even open them.”

  She smirks ruefully at me, but doesn’t stop moving carefully through the stack of boxes for the tenth time. “Yeah, well… I just haven’t ever shipped products to a real store before. It was always just individual sales or a few people with online stores. This is a big deal.”

  I move to her, sliding my hands over her shoulders and working some of the stiffness from them. “You have nothing to worry about,” I say into her ear. “You deserve this. You fucking deserve every bit of it. You deserve to have the world eating out of your hand.”

  She laughs. “Does that mean you would be eating out of my hand too? Because I could get used to that.”

  I grin, squeezing her a little tighter and forcing her head toward me. “The only thing I’ll be eating out is that perfect pussy of yours.”

  “Ahem!” Scarlett half-yells.

  Emmaline jumps a little, clearly forgetting Scarlett was still working quietly on her laptop. I admit to forgetting too, but something about talking dirty to her in front of others has always been a turn on for me. The world needs to know she’s mine. Let them overhear.

  “Sorry,” says Emmaline. “He didn’t mean what it sounded like he meant.”