Grumpy Dad: A Greenbridge Academy Romance

by Knox, Abby

  “Hey,” she says, “you never specified you’d be on your knees when we did this.”

  “True, but you don’t want me to slip and break both our necks, do you?”

  “Oh my god, stop talking and stay on task, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I breathe against her pussy. I suction her clit with my mouth while one finger teases her inside her ass and the other fills her cunt. I ramp up my speed until she stops talking and starts moaning.

  “Say my name,” I growl, my tongue swiping her all the way back to my hand that’s now got two fingers sunk into her adorable split.

  She shrieks and bucks against me as she climaxes. “Vince!”

  She doesn’t just say it, she sprays it.

  Her juice gushes out and I drink in every drop.

  If anyone needs me, I’ll be out shopping for a crown for my perfect Jewel.

  Epilogue

  Five years later

  Jewel

  “It’s almost our anniversary,” I remind Vince, flipping through our wedding album. “We should do something special!”

  Vince sets down a cup of coffee with two creams and three sugars and a pinch of cinnamon. He’s made it the way I like it: while wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.

  I love watching him putter around the kitchen, taking care of me, as his big shoulders and manly muscles do such nice domestic things. His slight dad belly and bubble ass get slightly more squeezable with every baby we make together. So far, that’s three siblings for Max, who could not be happier with his younger brother and twin sisters.

  The kids are all with Barry and Shelley spending the first few days of winter break at a large cabin in the woods. Vince and I will join them in a few days to celebrate the holiday as one big, weird family. Since Barry and Shelley’s daughters are all grown up and have flown the coop, the empty nesters insist on babysitting for us whenever they get the opportunity.

  “What did you have in mind?” Vince asks, sliding in next to me and nuzzling my neck that’s exposed by my flimsy tank top.

  I sigh. I still love feeling his beard all over my skin. “Want to go out for dinner?” I suggest.

  He growls. “I’m only hungry for one thing.”

  His kisses travel down my chest and over my soft belly.

  “I guess we’re staying in,” I sigh as his hand slips under the fabric of my top to tease my nipple.

  “How about we get in the shower and recreate that thing we did on our wedding night?” he mumbles.

  I giggle at the memory and look down at the group photo of us with my whole kindergarten class by the lake. It’s a miracle everyone is looking at the camera, including Vince.

  I cluck my tongue. “Naughty boy. Oh, look how cute and happy Max looks. That was before the adoption was finalized. That was a really good Christmas, wasn’t it?”

  “We had to do something. I couldn’t stand not sleeping with you every night, and sleepover girlfriends were not allowed with a foster kid in the house.”

  “That’s true. Oh, look at that dress. I was three sizes smaller then,” I say.

  He growls against the flannel between my legs. “Same pussy. Still making me drool.”

  “Aww, you always know the right words to say,” I reply, running my fingers through his hair.

  I think back fondly at my memories from that day. The ceremony was held on the grounds of Greenbridge Academy. It was going to be a simple, small affair until the school’s biggest benefactor, Mr. Rushmore, got wind of it. Turns out he was so moved by Max’s story that he donated the use of a huge wedding tent and the catering service he employs at one of his many hotels. As a wedding gift, he up and bought a downtown building with space for Max to operate his PI office, rent free.

  Barry and Shelley stood up for us, and my entire kindergarten class served as flower boys and girls. I also remember Vince carrying me off after the cake and the first dance to have his way with me in the shower.

  “It was a dirty trick though,” I say.

  Now I have Vince’s attention. He snaps his gaze up to my eyes. “Huh?”

  “Well, you told me you could make a meal out of me with my legs on your shoulders. You didn’t say you would be kneeling on the floor with me against the wall of the shower.”

  Vince narrows his eyes at me. “I was tired. It was a long day. Did I mention maybe we shouldn’t try to slip and fall and break our necks on the wet tile?”

  I smirk and playfully tug his hair. “Oh really? A long day of lesson planning and wedding planning and having to put on an industrial set of undergarments and a corset get you tired?”

  He laughs. “You forget I’d spent all week painting my new office space downtown and was exhausted from all the aggravating adoption paperwork…”

  “Then why do you look so happy and not tired at all in these photos?”

  “Because I could still smell you in my beard from the night before!”

  “Oh my god. I need coffee,” I moan.

  I sip my coffee and glare at him, pretending I’m outraged, but inside I’m happy my favorite grumpy dad smiled at all in the wedding photos.

  He may say it’s because of me that he’s happy, but I know the truth.

  All I did was show him how much he deserved to be happy.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.

  Keep up with the latest news with Abby’s newsletter!

  Say hello at

  authorabbyknox@gmail.com

  Also by Abby Knox

  Swim Coach

  Book One in the Greenbridge Academy series

  And coming soon from the Greenbridge Academy series…

  Benefactor (Book Three, coming in September!)

  Headmistress (Book Four, coming this fall!)

  * * *

  Also coming this fall … Boone’s story from Fencing Her In! (title and release date yet to be announced!)

  * * *

  Need more?

  From the Small-Town Bachelor Romance Series

  (each can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want to read in order … this is the order)

  Take Me Home

  Game Face

  Written in the Stars, a special Christmas edition

  Walk With Me

  Stay the Night

  I’ve Got You

  Come And Get It

  * * *

  The Windy City Holiday Duet

  Pumpkin and Spice

  Comfort and Joy

  * * *

  Beach Avenue Babes

  His Vinyl Vixen (a stand alone for the rock ’n’ roll nerd in all of us)

  Her Hi-Fi Hunk (Dusty and Jed from His Vinyl Vixen)

  * * *

  Stand alone short reads and novellas

  Fencing Her In (A bad neighbors to lovers story. With a lot of dogs. You need this in your life.)

  One Good Woman (a stand-alone mistaken identity/conspiracy/political drama)

  Naughty Irish Heart (a time-hopping Saint Patrick’s Day Romance — two couples and two HEAs in one book! Part of a four-author themed collection!)

  Sweet Jane

  (An over-the-top amnesia story about being lost, and then found.)

  The Christmas Pickup (a holiday short read full of feels, quirky characters and one damn hot tow truck driver!)

  Saved for Me

  (a special Holidays with Alexa Riley story)

  Matched for Me (A Valentine’s Day story with Fletcher from Saved for Me)

  Off-Season Stud (a fun and sexy vacation trope with an OTT ending!)

  * * *


  The Sisters of Enchantment series (a paranormal collection of stories about … yes … witches. I know you want more of these … they’re coming!)

  Some Basic Witch

  Witch, Please!

  An excerpt from the next story in the Greenbridge Academy Collection

  Benefactor

  Hunter

  Addie fingers the petals on the enormous bouquet of pink roses that I’ve plopped on the kitchen island.

  “Who gave you these?” My best friend cocks her head curiously at them while I busy myself gathering paper plates and napkins. The pizza in the oven makes my empty stomach roar. The hour was so late by the time Addie and I finally ditched the cast party that nobody in this town was delivering food anymore.

  I pause before telling her. Why do I pause?

  What am I hiding? He did it right out in public, so she’ll find out eventually anyway.

  “Mr. Rushmore. How weird is that? What do you want to drink with your pizza?” I ask, opening the cupboard to retrieve glasses.

  “Ridley’s Dad? Why? That’s so random. Just water for me, thanks.”

  I shrug and pour two waters from the filtered water spout on the door of the fridge. “I don’t know. I guess he’s a fan of the theater. Maybe that’s going to be his pet project this year at Greenbridge. You know how he is, he ping pongs from one thing to the next. Two years ago it was the activity buses for the swim teams. Then the next year he got the school board to approve all organic and local food in the cafeteria.”

  Addie meets my eyes while I had her the glass of water and I study her for any hint of suspicion. There’s none there, to my relief.

  A good time to change the subject.

  “And thank you for your flowers too, by the way. I’ll take wildflowers over roses, any day.”

  “Unlike Rushmore, I don’t try to dictate what people like,” she says with a smirk.

  The oven timer beeps and I remove the delicious, piping hot veggie pizza from the oven and serve it up to my best friend.

  We take our overloaded plates and our cups over to the nearby sectional sofa and fire up the massive TV.

  This is my happy place: in my pajamas, eating pizza and ice cream, binge-watching saved-up episodes of The Bachelor with my bestie. We laugh, make snarky comments, and eat, and eat some more.

  Butterflies flutter uncomfortably in my stomach when it’s time for this season’s bachelor to hand out roses at the end of the episode. The activity on the screen is cheesy and not in the least bit romantic. I find myself thinking of Rushmore’s eyes when he handed me those flowers. He, unlike the bachelor, looked real and unrehearsed. Unguarded. Something I did on stage touched him, I could tell. God knows what it was, in that silly musical. But there was something in his face that was so serious and sincere, it left me shaken.

  This is wrong, I tell myself. You’re only 18 and he’s what ... in his 40s? God, what am I thinking?

  Focus on the here and now, Hunter, and stop dreaming.

  I clear my throat and tear my eyes away from the TV. “Did I mention how grateful I am for you? How sad it would be to come home to an empty house after closing night?” I say to Addie.

  Addie turns to me and blinks at me sweetly. “Oh my god, are you drunk? You’re not going to kiss me are you?”

  I laugh, but I mean all of it sincerely. “Ever since mom began agreeing to speak at medical conferences, and dad’s law practice started attracting some big wig clients, I see both of them less and less. This whole summer, you’ve been a godsend. I hope we can keep doing these sleepovers all through senior year. Who knows where we will end up after graduation.”

  Addie looks at me with concern. “Of course we’ll keep having our sleepovers. And I’ll come visit you when you’re a famous movie actress someday and you can hire me to take care of your pets when I can’t find a job. Everything is going to work out perfectly, you’ll see,” she says holding up her glass.

  We clink our waters together.

  “To besties,” I say.

  “To besties,” she repeats.

  I down my water and pad back the kitchen to refill our cups. Salty pizza and bowls of ice cream make us drink down tons of water.

  I pause at the kitchen island to look at the roses again. I consider putting them in a vase. Should I? What will my mom and dad say when they come home and see them? I’m sure I can pass it off as a random gift from the audience, or from the stage crew. Although, truth be told, I doubt either of my parents will ask.

  I pull out a crystal vase from the curio cabinet and fill it with water, and then set about cutting the rose stems to fit.

  When I unwrap the flowers from their paper holder, a small card falls out onto the counter.

  It’s not a proper card inside an envelope like one normally gets from a florist, but a small, gray rectangle.

  My stomach performs a back flip when I pick up the card and turn it over. It’s Mr. Rushmore’s business card.

  “Rushmore Hospitality Group. H. Rushmore, CEO.” And underneath his business phone number, highlighted in yellow marker, is his personal mobile. My breath catches.

  He wants me to call him.

  And then I turn the card over.

  When I read what’s written by hand on the back of the card, my whole body lights up. Heat prickles from my toes all the way up my spine. Parts of my body throb that should not be throbbing at this moment.

  This can’t be real. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.

  But what do I know? I don’t know this man. And ... he did.

  “Oh my god...” I breathe.

  “What is it?” Addie replies from the sofa.

  “Uhm, nothing… I just… nearly cut myself trying to trim these flowers, that’s all.”

  But that was the wrong thing to say, as now Addie is rushing over to me. “I’ll help!”

  I have to make this card disappear. I can’t let her see it. But damn these pajamas. No pockets, and I’m not wearing a bra.

  I don’t want to throw it away, even though I should.

  Without thinking I surreptitiously stuff the card down the front my undies.

  Addie sees nothing, but insists on taking over the trimming of the rose stems and arranging the bouquet in the vase for me.

  We continue chattering about the drama on The Bachelor.

  But all I can think about is the fact that something that Mr. Rushmore touched — his card — is now resting against my skin, down inside my undies. And the fact that it’s so hot down there, I might set it on fire.