May the Best Man Win

by BJ Bentley

  I chewed my lip as I mulled over his proposal. I tried for a compromise. “I can definitely be Serious Sophie during school.”

  He hummed his agreement.

  “And I can be Sexy Sophie on the weekends with you. But I still don’t think that Sexy Sophie needs to have sleepovers during the middle of the week. Especially, with the parent of one of her students when said student is in the same house.”

  This time he sighed in frustration. Scrubbing his hand through his hair, he growled, “You’re trying your damnedest to shut me out.”

  “I’m just trying to keep things from getting too complicated. I think some boundaries are healthy. A little distance might be necessary.” My voice had taken on a slightly whiny quality which made me wince. I didn’t want to sound like I was pouting.

  “Not good enough. I want you in it with me. Want you to feel, and I don’t just mean my body,” he said, trailing a finger down my chest. “Want you to feel it here.” He pressed his fingertip into the flesh above my heart.

  “You’re asking for a lot, don’t you think?”

  “Not asking you to love me, doll. Just want you to give in a little.”

  Chapter 16

  Damon

  By some miracle, or maybe it was sheer will on my part, I’d finally convinced Sophie to climb into my bed and into my arms. I think maybe she just got tired of arguing with me so she gave in. I knew our most recent bout of fucking had been intense for her; it was intense for me too, but I’d needed the release like I’d needed my next breath. I swore the adrenaline shot straight to my balls when she defied my order not to come. I’d never actually needed a reason to take control in the bedroom, but something about Sophie providing me, however unintentionally, with the perfect opportunity to exert my will over her made my dick ready to explode.

  I’d needed the outlet and the sense of control it provided me after having such a shitty day at work. Harlan Preston, an investor in Hatchling Tech’s latest clean energy project, had suddenly pulled his backing after a year of promises and expectations. I’d spent over an hour on the phone with him trying to convince him that this project was not only worthy of his time and money but the near future would see a huge return on his investment. By the time he admitted that his change of heart only happened after he’d had a lengthy discussion with my father, I’d realized that I’d wasted both my time and my breath trying to convince him otherwise. Harlan and my father had been casual acquaintances for years, occasionally discussing business when they found themselves at the same society functions, but I’d never thought Harlan would have allowed my father’s outdated business advice to sway him away from a project he’d seemingly had a vested interest in.

  My wasted conversation with Harlan led to a phone call to my father that had, unsurprisingly, been even less successful.

  “When are you going to stop turning your back on this family?” he’d groused.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never turned my back on the family.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly got no problem thumbing your nose at the one thing that’s provided for this family since your granddad’s day!”

  “Dad, oil is a thing of the past. The future is in alternative energy-”

  “Bullshit,” he interjected.

  I gritted my teeth. “And Harlan Preston-”

  He cut me off. “Harlan Preston is all hat and no cattle. I don’t care what kinds of promises he made you, he never would have gone through with that investment. It’s best you learn that now, son. Harlan Preston would piss on yer leg and tell you it’s rainin’!”

  “Are you implying that you did me a favor?”

  “That’s about the way I see it.”

  To add to my frustration, I knew that my father wasn’t exactly wrong about Harlan Preston’s character, but I felt confident enough that I could have talked him around to signing on the dotted line when the time came. Instead, no thanks to my father’s interference, I wouldn’t get the chance to seal that deal. The whole situation left me feeling anxious and out of control. So, when I had Sophie beneath me, defying my order not to come, I took advantage of the opportunity to feel in control of something for the first time that day.

  Turning my attention to the woman lying next to me, I thought about what she’d said about boundaries. I couldn’t let that happen. No matter how hard she fought me, I’d fight harder. She thought she knew my reputation, but she had no idea. The gossip surrounding my string of short-term flings is well documented, no doubt. A man of my stature doesn’t stay out of the tabloids for long, but I’d be willing to bet that a lot of what she’s heard or read has been embellished, exaggerated, or just plain falsified in some way, shape, or form. Many of my past relationships had been short-lived, but nothing about them was particularly sordid. I dated just as much as any man, and when, after several dates, the chemistry didn’t flare to life or the compatibility wasn’t what I initially thought it was, I ended things. I wasn’t an asshole about it. I let women down easy. That, of course, wasn’t the tale many of them spun when they sold their stories to TMZ.

  Sophie would never run to the tabloids to make a quick buck off of me. I trusted her. Not only with my privacy, but with my daughter, and that right there was the ultimate test of faith.

  I rolled to my side, wrapping my body around Sophie’s. She fit me perfectly, tucked into the S-shape my body made. Wrapping my arm around her, I nestled one breast into the palm of my hand- another perfect fit- and fell asleep with her scent in my nostrils, calming my overworked mind.

  ***

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

  I’d like to say Sophie’s chanting was triggered by my cock thrusting inside her, but unfortunately, she was racing around my bedroom, frantically snatching up her clothing from the night before and haphazardly yanking them on as she went. “Doll, we’ve got plenty of time. Slow down.”

  “I can’t slow down, Damon. You need to take me home, right now,” she huffed, wiggling back into her pants.

  “I’m going to go downstairs and fix us some coffee,” I said calmly, moving toward the door.

  “Don’t you dare!” she seethed. “Get your ass to the garage, and start the car.”

  I ignored her ranting and casually strolled down to the kitchen. Chloe was up, but Tierney was still in bed, as she usually was at six o’clock. “Mornin’, Chloe.”

  “Mornin’,” she mumbled. “Sophie still here?”

  “Yeah, she’s getting dressed. She’ll be down in a minute.”

  Chloe nodded before taking a cautious sip of her coffee. Chloe hadn’t batted an eyelash when Sophie had come over last night just after Tierney had gone to bed. She knew who Sophie was to Tierney, since my kid talked about her beloved Miss James all the time. She also knew who Sophie was to me, since I’d sat Chloe down earlier in the week and explained that she’d be seeing Sophie around on a regular basis.

  “Psst.”

  I looked up from pouring two mugs of coffee to see Sophie peeking around the corner. “Soph, what are you doing?” I shook my head in exasperation. This girl. “Come have some coffee.”

  She hissed as she waved her arm in what was generally interpreted as ‘keep it down.’

  “Sophie, it’s just me and Chloe. Tierney’s still asleep, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Oh,” she muttered, lowering her flailing arms and stepping around the wall that hid the stairs from view. “I really do need to get home.”

  “And I will take you. But, first, come drink your coffee.”

  “Um, hey,” Sophie said to Chloe, skirting the island and making a beeline for the coffee I held aloft.

  “Hey,” Chloe returned, lips twitching slightly. She was no doubt amused at Sophie’s morning spastic behavior.

  I probably would have found it more amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that she was trying her damnedest to get away from me this morning. The three of us drank our coffee in relative silence until Chloe got up to place her
mug in the sink.

  “It was really nice meeting you, Sophie,” she said with a smile.

  “Yeah, it was nice meeting you, too,” Sophie returned softly.

  “She’s way better than Georgia,” Chloe said, turning to me.

  “Jesus, Chlo,” I muttered, using the shortened version of her name that always made her squint at me in annoyance.

  She shrugged her shoulders unapologetically. “Not that it takes much, but for what it’s worth, I like you,” she said, addressing Sophie.

  I watched Sophie, hoping she wouldn’t be offended by Chloe’s lack of tact this morning. It was always a crapshoot with her until the caffeine kicked in. Sophie rolled her lips between her teeth, staving off a grin and replied with a mumbled “thank you.”

  I shook my head at the both of them. “Ready to go, tiger?”

  “Yes.” She drained the rest of her coffee, placing the mug in the sink next to mine and swiped her purse from the island where she’d left it the night before.

  The drive to Sophie’s little craftsman home took about twenty minutes. The thick fog of the early morning was barely starting to lift as I drove my Ferrari down the hillside and into town. By the time we arrived at our destination, the sun was shining brightly, and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. I pulled up to the curb and let the engine idle for all of a nanosecond before Sophie had her door open and one foot already on the ground.

  “Sophie,” I warned, grabbing her elbow, “you’re not getting out of this car without giving me a kiss.”

  Her wide eyes landed on my mouth, and I couldn’t have hidden my smirk if I tried. “Um,” she mumbled.

  “Why are you running scared, little rabbit?”

  She frowned. “What’s up with the animal-inspired nicknames this morning?”

  Honestly, I didn’t really know. “Just callin’ it like I see it, I guess. You were ready to kick my ass earlier, and now you’re hopping off-”

  She groaned at my pun.

  I grinned at her. “Come on, doll, give me my kiss, so you can go get ready for work.”

  Surprisingly, instead of arguing, she leaned in and planted a quick kiss to my lips. It wasn’t enough. Threading my fingers in her hair, I held her still while I plundered her mouth. She tasted like coffee and mint. Had she used my toothbrush? The thought made me smile for some reason. She claimed she wanted boundaries, but there was something decidedly intimate about using someone else’s toothbrush. Finally breaking the kiss, I let her go, but not before taking note of the flush in her cheeks and the dazed look in her eyes.

  I kissed the tip of her nose. “Hop along, now.”

  She snapped out of her lust fog to shoot me a glare and climbed out of the car. Turning around and leaning in, she gave me a stern look. “Remember what I said about boundaries.”

  “Sure, doll. You remember what I said about giving in a little.”

  Pursing her lips, she stood up and slammed the door.

  I chuckled to myself as I watched her ass sway on the way up the sidewalk to her front door.

  Chapter 17

  Sophie

  I shut the front door behind me and let out a frustrated breath. The man was infuriating. Boundaries were an integral part of any healthy relationship. Even if what we had didn’t technically qualify as a relationship. We were fucking, and I was good with that. I wasn’t convinced that he wanted anything more, despite his protests. I was fairly certain he was only telling me what he thought I wanted to hear- what most women would want to hear. Especially from someone as handsome, intelligent, and wealthy as he was. God, that was annoying- how perfect he seemed.

  Last night, when I’d been in the midst of failing miserably at holding tree pose because April kept making faces at our yogi when she had her back turned and making me giggle, Damon had called to inform me that I was spending the night at his place. I got his voicemail as I was getting into my car. By the time I made it home, he was sitting, and looking very relaxed, in one of the wicker chairs on my front porch. I had half a mind to hit him over the head with one of my potted petunias in retaliation for his high handedness.

  I should bring those inside, now that I’m thinking about it, before the first frost comes.

  I had tried to ignore him as I entered my house, heading straight for the shower. I may have been no good at yoga, but I never failed to leave the studio looking like a drowned rat from all the sweat dripping off me. Once again feeling clean and refreshed, I’d exited my bathroom to find Damon sitting on my bed next to a stack of clothing.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I’d asked.

  “Get dressed,” he ordered, tipping his head to indicate the clothing he had apparently laid out for me.

  Scowling, I picked up the leggings and tank top. “There’s no underwear here.”

  “You won’t need it.”

  My scowl only deepened. “Just out of curiosity, if I were to refuse, would you just dress me yourself again?”

  A devilish grin split his face. “Would you like to find out?”

  And that was how I had ended up at Damon’s last night, not only allowing him to fuck my brains out, but thoroughly enjoying it and actively participating.

  Now, standing back in my living room, I heaved a sigh, tossing my purse onto the couch and watching it bounce before landing on the floor. Yeah, that was a pretty good metaphor for the amount of control I seemed to have over the situation. Glancing at the clock, I had no time to waste. I jogged up the stairs to shower and get ready for work.

  ***

  Just before lunch, I was handing out the kids’ spelling test from the day before, some of which boasted gems like ‘brekfest,’ ‘brawt,’ and ‘cunt.’ I thought the results said more about me as a teacher than it did about the student who didn’t remember that ‘count’ has an ‘o’ in it, and I sincerely hoped that this was one test he didn’t take home to show his parents.

  Instead of preparing for that afternoon’s math lesson, I spent lunch and recess in the reading nook with Tierney. “What do have for lunch today, kiddo?”

  She opened up her lunch pail to show me her ham and Swiss sandwich, apple slices, and hummus and pretzel chips.

  “You like hummus?” I asked, a little surprised. It seemed a little out of the ordinary for a seven year old, but she was Damon’s, so I should have known better than to expect ordinary.

  She shook her head. “Chloe packs my lunch. She’s on a hummus kick,” she deadpanned.

  “Chloe’s your nanny, right?” I feigned ignorance. Tierney didn’t need to know I’d already met Chloe or how exactly that came about. She had already been in bed when Damon and I arrived at their house on the hill the night before.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “She’s nice. But I still don’t like hummus,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  “Tell you what. I’ll trade you,” I dug around in my lunch bag, “this bag of grapes for your hummus and pretzels.”

  Tierney’s little face lit up, and I was a goner. I’d hand over my entire lunch if she asked for it. “Deal.”

  We ate our lunches in silence until Tierney pulled out her book for that week. “What are you reading?”

  She lifted it up to show me the cover of Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time.

  “Well, that’s impressive.”

  She shrugged because, of course, she did.

  “Do you actually understand what you’re reading?” I didn’t ask to be discouraging, I was just legitimately surprised that a seven-year-old could comprehend the language and theories presented in the book that most adults couldn’t wrap their brains around.

  She looked a little chagrined. “Only sometimes,” she admitted.

  “Well, hey, you’re already doing better than me! I don’t understand any of it.”

  That earned me another smile.

  We were quiet for a moment, and then she said, “I usually like to read for a while before I go to sleep.”

  The hairs on the back o
f my neck prickled. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Dad likes it when I have a regular bedtime, though, so I go to my room when it’s time, but I read for a little while first. Then I go to sleep.”

  “Really?” I coughed. “What time do you normally go to bed?”

  “Eight o’clock.” She looked me directly in the eye as she spoke, and I swore she could read my guilty conscience like a dimestore paperback. It had barely been eight o’clock when we’d gotten to Damon’s last night.

  “Oh,” I said, panicking. The language center of my brain had effectively shut down, and I couldn’t think of a single, appropriate thing to say.

  “Anyway, I was in my room reading last night, and I heard my dad talking to someone, but I don’t think it was Chloe.”

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “How do you know it wasn’t Chloe?”

  Her shoulder lifted. “Because whoever it was made my dad laugh. Chloe is his friend, but she doesn’t make him laugh like that. I think he has a new friend.”

  “Well,” I started hesitantly, “your dad’s a nice man. I’m sure he has lots of friends.”

  “Not really. He has Chloe and Uncle Johnny, and I don’t think he was talking to Uncle Johnny either. But, whoever it was made him happy, so I hope they’re a good friend. I don’t want my dad to be sad.”

  I wasn’t sure I could handle this conversation any longer. “I don’t want your dad to be sad, either,” I said softly. “I’ll let you read while I get today’s math lesson ready, okay?”

  “Okay, Miss James,” she said brightly.

  Under the weight of my guilty conscience, I stole to my desk to make myself look busy. I didn’t think Tierney knew that I was the friend her father had brought home last night, but I was also unsettled remembering the way she’d looked me dead in the eye as she spoke. Like she knew something and she wanted me to know that she knew. I shook my head at my paranoia. Tierney was exceptionally bright, but she was also still seven years old.