Doughn’t Let Me Go

by Hunter, Teagan

  I feel the top of it against my thumb, and there goes the last of my resolve.

  I back her up until she’s pressed against her now closed door, leaning down until I’m just inches away.

  Her heart hammers inside her chest. I can hear it. Or is that mine?

  “Dory…” I say her name again, because I can. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  Slice Twelve

  Doris

  Oh shit. Hold my panties. This is gonna be a long night.

  Slice Thirteen

  Porter

  I like to think I have a pretty solid imagination.

  But whatever I conjured in regard to kissing Dory pales in comparison to the real thing.

  Her lips are soft all right, but I didn’t think they’d feel like this.

  Like home.

  I slide my tongue along the seam of her mouth, asking for permission to enter, and she grants it.

  She moans when our tongues meet, and I do the same when her hands slide through my hair.

  It feels so good to finally have her touching me again.

  I keep one hand on her head, holding her to me, and wrap the other around her as I spin us.

  She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to her bed, dropping her gently against the mattress, never letting my lips leave hers.

  She moans into my mouth again when our bodies connect in all the right places, when I fall between her thighs like I belong there.

  I do.

  “You feel so fucking good,” I say against her mouth, my hips flexing into her.

  “I know.”

  I laugh, and she swats at me.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like you feel good too.”

  “I know,” I murmur, “and I meant it like that.”

  I swallow her laugh with my lips.

  We stay like that for minutes. Hours. Days.

  I don’t know, and I don’t care.

  All I know is I want more. I need more.

  “Dory…”

  “Just one more night,” she begs. “One more.”

  “One more.”

  She kisses me again. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just sex.”

  I pause. Just for a second.

  She’s too lost in the haze of lust to notice.

  Just sex.

  I don’t want just sex. I want more. I want her.

  But if that’s all she’s willing to give…I’ll take it.

  I’m selfish, not stupid.

  “Please, Porter.”

  I pull away from her just long enough to yank my shirt over my head.

  When I look back at her, she’s biting her lip.

  “See something you like?”

  “If you’re referring to your stupidly cut chest and abs, then yes. But also…you did the thing.”

  I tilt my head. “The thing?”

  She nods. “You pulled your shirt off with one hand. If I tried that, I’d fall over or something.”

  I laugh at the vision. “That’s because you have boobs. Your shirt would get stuck on them.”

  “You’re blaming my boobs for my lack of coordination?”

  “Yes.” I push her shirt up over her body and she slides it over her head, tossing it across the room, and it lands I don’t even know where. “They’re big,” I say, staring down at them like a hungry man who hasn’t eaten in a week faced with a steak dinner.

  “Is that a problem? Are you not into big boobs?”

  “Dory, I’m a heterosexual man—I am into all boobs.” To prove my point, I pull one of her already hard nipples into my mouth. She moans her appreciation and I laugh around her. “I’m just surprised they’re so big. They’re always hidden under your oversized shirts.”

  “They were my—”

  “Father’s. Yes, I remember.” I kiss my way up her chest and neck and over her jaw, straight to her ear. “But I don’t want to talk about him right now. I want to talk about how much your whole nineties look drives me wild. I find it hot as fuck.”

  She arches toward me, breath heavy. “Do you?”

  “Hell yes. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away last night? When you were wearing that itty-bitty fucking skirt?”

  She reaches up, pulling me down by my neck.

  “Not as hard as it was to watch you leave.”

  Her words ghost over my mouth, and I gulp.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know. It’s wrong. You’re my daughter’s nanny. I’m your boss.”

  “There are lines,” she agrees. “But it’s just one night…”

  “One night,” I echo, though secretly I pray for more.

  “Porter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Give me the best night of my life.”

  And I do.

  * * *

  If a guy says his idea of a perfect wake-up isn’t doing so with his dick in his girl’s mouth, he’s a liar.

  I comb my fingers through Dory’s hair as she slides her tongue over my cock.

  She’s been teasing me for the last ten minutes, and my patience is growing thin.

  “I’m starting to think you don’t know how to give a blow job and you’re just biding your time until I get tired of your ineptitude, haul you back up here, and bury my face in your pussy.”

  Her mouth pops off me with a loud noise.

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  She hasn’t been shy at all about letting me know she likes it when I eat her out. In fact, she’s been very vocal about it.

  “Yes.”

  Her answer is so sure, so certain.

  I laugh. “Then get up here.”

  She rolls from between my legs, lying on her back and spreading hers.

  She looks over at me. “Well?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not what I said.”

  Her brows inch together. “You just said… Oh.”

  “Yeah. I said”—I point to my face—“get up here.”

  “You want me to ride your face?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  This time it’s her who laughs. “No, I guess not.”

  “Unless you don’t want me to eat your pu—”

  She slaps her hand over my mouth. “Stop saying that.”

  I wrench her hand away. “Pussy.”

  The sound she makes is an even split between a groan and a moan.

  “Porter…”

  “I swear to god, Doris, if you don’t—”

  She cuts me off by springing up and tossing her leg over my head.

  She glares down at me, eyes challenging.

  “Put your money where your mouth is, Porter.”

  And I do.

  I bury my face in her and she slides back and forth on my tongue like this is exactly where she was made to be.

  It’s not long until her thighs start to shake, and her breaths are coming in sharper. She’s so close.

  But so am I.

  I give her one last long lick, trailing my tongue from her clit to her ass, playing with the hole I’ll one day talk her into letting me take, and then I pull her off my face and down my body.

  “What the fuck, Porter?”

  Her words are harsh, but I know she doesn’t mean them like that.

  “I wanna feel you come.”

  “You could have—right on your tongue.”

  “On my cock.”

  Then I guide her tightness over the head and slide in like this is where I’m made to be.

  “Oh god…” She groans, biting her lip. “Fuck.”

  “We are.”

  Her laugh is cut short by another moan when I drive into her.

  “Gonna come,” she mutters.

  “I’m almost there.”

  “Harder,” she encourages. “Faster.”

  I grip her hips tighter, probably too tight, and thrust into her, not holding back this time.

  “Porter…” She sighs my name as I feel her fall a
part around me.

  Another thrust. Harder. Faster.

  And I fall too.

  * * *

  Dread should not be the first thing I feel after the night I’ve had, but I know what the morning sun that’s currently blinding me means.

  I have to leave, because the last thing I need is my daughter to see me sneak out of her nanny’s room in the morning.

  I peel my eyes open with reluctance and sweep them over the room for the first time since I barged my way inside.

  Our clothes are thrown all over the place, pillows on the floor. Dory hasn’t decorated the space much, but there are a few things here and there, like an old, worn record player on the bookshelf, a stack of vinyl next to it. I don’t have to look at them to know what they are. I know just based on the band tees she wears. Other than the small jewelry box atop her dresser and a beat-up laptop that’s seen better days, the only other thing in here that screams Dory is the copy of The Outsiders sitting on her bedside table.

  This room says so little and so many things about her all at once.

  She’s a simple gal, with simple goals.

  I think I like that most about her.

  The sunlight begins to creep into the corners of the bedroom, and I know I need to be on my way soon.

  Carefully, I lift my arm, trying to move out from under Dory’s grip.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  I look down at her, but her eyes are still closed.

  “I—”

  “You have to. I know.”

  She finally looks up at me, and I give her an apologetic smile.

  “We knew this was just one night.”

  Right. One night.

  But what if it wasn’t? What if…

  “Listen, Dory—”

  She shakes her head, sitting up, letting the blanket fall around her in a pool of last night’s secrets.

  “No, Porter. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t say it. We know it’s best if we don’t get involved.”

  I nod. “For Kyrie.”

  “Exactly. Because if we don’t work out—and with my luck, nothing good ever works out—we’re not the only ones who lose in the end.”

  She’s right. As much as I want to pursue this because I think we’d be really fucking great together, there’s always the chance we won’t work. And that’s not going to be good for anyone involved, especially my daughter, who is already very attached to Dory.

  “You’re right,” I tell her, leaning over and nipping at her shoulder. “I hate that you’re right though.”

  “It’s a curse.”

  It’s a joke, but the punchline falls flat.

  “One more time, then. For old time’s sake,” I plead, continuing my playful nips over her shoulder and up her neck. She arches into me, welcoming the touch.

  “Old time’s sake? You mean like three hours ago when you were…”

  She makes a motion with her hands, and I smirk against her skin.

  “When I was what? Don’t get shy on me now, Miss Needs a Pillow to Bite.”

  “I thought we agreed to never talk about that.”

  “We did? I must have missed that conversation.”

  “It’s the unspoken rule of sex—you do it and then pretend it never happened.”

  I pull away, staring at her in disbelief. “What the fuck kind of sex have you been having?” She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “Better yet, what kind of dudes are you having sex with where you just ‘pretend it never happened’?”

  I use air quotes and everything to really drive my point home.

  “The kind who don’t stick around.”

  “Seriously?”

  She shrugs, her big tits bouncing with the movement.

  I love that she doesn’t bother covering her body up, love that she’s not shy around me and feels comfortable enough in her own skin.

  “I’m a one-night-stand kind of gal.”

  I arch a brow. “And here I was thinking I was a special one-off moment of weakness and you simply couldn’t resist my charms, just had to ravage me.”

  She side-eyes me with a grin. “Come on, no you didn’t. Don’t act like you don’t have them too. That’s what billionaire playboys do, right?”

  Her words shouldn’t sting, but they do. I thought by now we were past all the rich-guy stereotypes.

  “Multimillionaire,” I correct. “And no, I don’t do one-night stands. Actually, the one we intended to have was only my second time having one.”

  She jerks her head back, wrinkling her nose incredulously. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” I rest back against the headboard, letting my hands settle across my stomach. “They just aren’t my thing.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Why? Just because I’m wealthy and single I have to live up to the stereotype of having girls cruising in and out of my bed? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not just single, I’m a father too. Do you really think I’d parade a bunch of girls around Kyrie?”

  She sucks her lip in, and I see the regret in her eyes. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “Hey,” I say, reaching toward her and grabbing her elbow, pulling her back toward me. She falls against my chest, resting her head over my beating heart like it’s her favorite place to be. “Don’t be sorry. We didn’t know each other all that well that first night.”

  “That was the point,” she says quietly.

  I laugh. “Right. Can I ask…”

  “Why I only have one-night stands?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, even though she’s not looking at me, her attention on her fingers, which are now tracing mindless designs over my abs. “I mean, if you want to tell me. You don’t have to.”

  “There’s not really a particular reason. I just don’t do relationships. Or feelings. I try not to get attached.” She sighs and burrows her face into my chest. “Every time I’d get attached to one of my new stepdads, they’d leave. I think my mom’s views on relationships tainted my own.”

  “Because you don’t want throwaway.”

  “No,” she whispers against me, her lips tickling my skin in the best of ways. “I don’t want throwaway.”

  “I hate being left,” I blurt out, startling her.

  She looks up at me, chin resting on my chest. “What?”

  “I hate being left,” I repeat, swallowing the lump attempting to form in my throat. “That’s why I don’t do one-nighters. I hate the feeling of being left the next day.”

  She doesn’t say anything for several seconds, just staring up at me with those underwater blues that sometimes feel as deep as the ocean herself.

  “That’s sweet in the saddest kind of way.”

  Sad, because she knows my history with being left.

  “You said you had a one-night stand before—what happened with that?”

  I groan, banging my head against the headboard.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “It’s embarrassing,” I grumble. “Especially given our circumstances.”

  Her brows shoot up. “Now you have to tell me.”

  “Fine.” I exhale, working up the courage. “There was an intern. We were obviously into each other but never acted on it because of the whole me-being-her-boss thing.” I look down at Dory when I say this. A small smile forms on her lips, but she doesn’t say anything, nodding at me to continue. “Anyway, she wasn’t permanent, and we both knew it. On her last night there, we thought…fuck it, let’s just get this sexual tension out of the way and never see each other again.”

  Her smile grows. “I’m going to assume that didn’t work out so well for you.”

  “No. No, it did not. She said we let her go because she was bad in bed. It was a whole ordeal.”

  “And was she?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Bad in bed? Well, she did yell out, ‘It’s good, it’s good, it’s gooooood!’ when she orgasmed.”

  “Like Jim Carrey in Bruce Alm
ighty?”

  “Exactly like that.”

  “That poor girl,” she mutters, trying not to laugh but failing. “No wonder you fired her.”

  “I didn’t fire her. Her contract was up.”

  “Likely story.” She nips at my stomach. “It’s nice to know you have a thing for the help, though.”

  “You’re not the help, Dory.”

  “You’re my daughter’s nanny. That’s it,” she says, parroting my words back to me.

  I wince. “I only said that to discourage you from liking me.”

  “What makes you think I like you now?”

  “Oh? You don’t, huh?”

  She takes my skin between her teeth, biting lightly before licking it. “Not even a little bit.”

  “I find that hard to believe, all things considered.”

  “I can like your body and not like you, Porter.” Her hand snakes down my abs and under the blanket. She lightly rakes her nails down the insides of my thighs, not touching my dick like I know she wants to. “And like your body I do.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nods. “Very much.”

  Her fingers finally curl around my already hard dick, and she strokes me once.

  I hiss at the contact, thumping my head back again. “Fucking tease.”

  “Hmm…”

  Her hum is the last I hear from her before she wraps her lips around me, sucking me to the back of her throat.

  I was wrong before.

  Dory knows exactly what she’s doing when it comes to blow jobs.

  And me blowing my load two minutes later is proof.

  * * *

  All I’ve been able to think about all day is Dory and how I had to leave her naked in her bed this morning when it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.

  Which is really fucking not conducive to focusing on work, and I really need to be productive right now.

  I feel like my company is slipping through my fingers.

  Every day, I hand off another task to Mel that I used to complete myself.

  And every day, she reassures me she’s got it all under control.

  “Look, babe,” Mel says soothingly into the phone. “It’s fine. We’re all doing just fine without you here. We don’t need Mr. Big Bad Porter roaming around to keep us in check. We’re profiting. Hell, we’re actually doing better this quarter than I thought we would considering your move and all. So stop worrying about it and just take a breather.”