Dusty & Daddy Read online

  Dusty &Daddy

  A Steamy Older Man taboo Romance

  Experienced Men Book 2

  by

  Savannah May

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Copyright © 2017 Savannah May. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Version 2017.2.3

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  Dusty Rose &Daddy

  Chapter ONE

  Killian

  The first thing they ordered me to do was stay away.

  They didn't have to tell me twice.

  It was a condition of my parole, to not try and contact Dusty Rose in any way. Not only was there a bubble placed around her physical body which I could never penetrate. I also couldn't call, I couldn't email.

  “Don't even look at her on Facebook,” the snippy officer in charge of my jacket said. “Hey, don't even think about her.”

  Right.

  The girl who's dominated every moment of my existence since the day she burst into it seven years ago. Wipe her from my mind. I wanted to come clean with the P.O.

  'Believe me I'd like nothing more than to erase the soft eyed stare, the lips like ribbons of a gift-bow and the sheet of long hair she always rolls into a rope in her tiny hands before draping it over one shoulder to hang over the swell of her breast. A lure to reel a man in.'

  If jail taught me anything it's to never share your thoughts and feelings. Everything in your mind will be messed with and used against you. Just STFU and get through the time.

  Eighteen months I had to lie on a cot staring at the ceiling, with nothing but Dusty Rose on my mind. Thinking of her was all I had left. She was all I ever thought of when I had a life. Now I have nothing else but her tantalizing smile and her shining round eyes looking up at me with love.

  And something else.

  Something I'm forbidden to feel.

  Forbidden to even think of.

  Just give me a lobotomy. Or some fast drug to induce amnesia. Because there's no way I can ever stop thinking about Dusty Rose. She dominates my thoughts and she dominates my cock.

  Not a day of the last year and a half passed that I didn’t find my hand on my dick as I lay there in the putrid fucking cell. Thinking of Dusty Rose begging me to slide into her tight soft center.

  “It's all I've ever wanted,” she whimpered, her voice all breathy. “You're all I've ever wanted.”

  I wanted her too. I want her now. She's everything I ever needed in my crazy life and now I've got nothing.

  *

  The world seems way too large when the high metal gate slides shut at my back. I stand motionless for a while, woozy as a drunk. Trying to take in the wide expanse of my surroundings. Determined not to look back at the shit hole behind me.

  “Life will seem huge and fast when you exit the gates,” the parole officer had told me. “That'll change with time once you get used to being outside the confinement you've become accustomed to.”

  He's right and it seems like a gaping void of empty space. But only because Dusty Rose doesn't come bounding up to me to fling her arms around me and press her firm tits into my chest.

  “Killian, do you love me?” she used to ask me a hundred times a day.

  “Of course, I love you Baby. Don't ever doubt it.”

  She giggled and sucked up a long slurp of the creamy drinks she loved. Her lips pursed up pretty around the straw. Her eyes turning up to me from beneath marabou lashes. It was enough to drive a man insane, the love that exploded in me until it hammered at my heart night and day.

  No one came to meet me on the day of my release.

  Which is not a surprise.

  I have no one left in my life.

  The only person I want is Dusty Rose and she is forbidden to me even now.

  I set off down the wide alley toward the highway. There'll be a bus or a cab eventually but now I feel like walking and walking until I fall off the edge of the world.

  Eventually I make it to a motel and check in. The clerk takes my ID and I'm waiting for the suspicious stare I've become used to. The assumption that I'm a lying, manipulative asshole waiting for his chance to do wrong. The room's a bit of a dump but it's the fucking Ritz Carlton compared to where I spent last night.

  I shut the door on the huge world with relief.

  Then lie down on the bed and gaze at the ceiling.

  What the fuck do I do for the rest of my life? I've lost everything. My home, my business, my family, such as it was.

  And her. I don't give a shit about any of it other than her.

  I uncap the whiskey I bought on the way here. And take a slug from the bottle. The lost habit of the fiery liquid burns my throat before suffusing its warmth though my chest. How much of this is it gonna take to erase her from my head? That's a dead end street but for tonight, I'll take it.

  My hand grips my shaft and strokes lightly, picking up speed as Dusty Rose fills my mind. It takes no time at all to spill my load, groaning out her name, desperate to pull her little pink nipples into my mouth.

  That's the last time.

  Tomorrow, I'll get back to my life and put her out of it completely.

  *

  I wake up with an iron rod filled with burning desire for her. The physical part can be taken care of, but the need to listen to her talk, hear her soft laugh and protect her from all the bad stuff is never satiated.

  I need to see her. To know she's okay. Safe and happy.

  Perhaps I should go away. To another country where the temptation to find her doesn't overwhelm every waking moment.

  It feels weird to open the door for myself, and then step back into the excess space of the world on the outside.

  Somehow I find a dealer and buy a motorbike. Something to get around on. Fast, big and heavy. Nothing like the flashy Porsche I had before. It gets me to the mall where I buy some new clothes.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” the girl in the store asks in a voice I've heard before.

  I look at her and realize it's the tone that's familiar. Soft and inviting. She's giving me the eye. Letting me know she's up for it. I should take her up on the offer. Push her into one of the change rooms and give her what she needs. At least ask if I can get her number. If she'd like to get a drink sometime.

  “No, that's good,” I tell her. “But thanks,” I add when her lip rolls out in a little pout.

  I change my clothes in the washroom and dump the old ones in the trash can. Leaving behind the stink of jail. Then I wander through the mall, the way I used to do with Dusty Rose.

  “Oh look, Killian, isn't this pretty?” Enjoying her sparkling eyes taking in all the girly doodads in the
window displays.

  “I can't tell until you put it on. The only pretty thing I see is you.”

  She'd laugh her tinkly soft laugh and thread her small hands around my thick arm as I bought her the things she loved.

  I loved to see her happy.

  “I love you, Killian,” she'd tell me as we headed to Starbucks for her favorite crème brulee frappuccino.

  “I love you too, Baby.”

  I meant it then. I mean it now. As I take a corner seat in the coffee shop, clasping the venti cup that will last a while, I realize I won't ever stop loving Dusty Rose. I just have to figure the way to get through life without her in it.

  Chapter TWO

  Dusty Rose

  He was my best friend.

  I told him that not long after he moved in.

  “That makes me so happy,” he'd said and draped his arm around my shoulders. Like a buddy.

  It was always me and him. My mom was secondary, like a long term guest in the house, whenever Killian and I were there together. He clearly preferred my company. Always driving me to the mall to meet my friends. And then he started taking the place of Jessica, Ashley and Hannah, when they turned shitty on me for no reason. Girls can be so mean.

  “Why are you crying, little princess?” Killian asked, coming on me hiding out in the reading nook I constructed in the family room.

  “They won't let me come shopping,” I sobbed. “They sent a – a -”

  “A what, Baby? What did they send you,” he growled, ready to defend me from the tiniest hurts.

  “A text. Look.”

  U R not on the guest list B

  “Well screw that.”

  I giggled because he wasn’t supposed to swear, even though the kids in high school all talked like marines.

  “Come on, wash that pretty face, put on a nice dress and let's you and me go shopping.”

  We did and- bonus- he bought me anything he noticed me gazing at with the tiniest longing. Like a genie in a lamp, or a sugar daddy, fulfilling all my desires. Except one. I should have been staring right at him, because I'd developed a new one. To have Killian be my first.

  It was a terrible desire, of course. Depraved. To want to kiss my mother's husband and naturally I repressed it. I was glad the girls weren’t there because I could never have told them, just like I haven’t told anyone since. The hunger claws at me still.

  Killian took me to Starbucks that day for a frap topped with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. Then to some goofy romantic comedy at the movies where we could share popcorn and hold hands.

  It was delicious. I was happier than I'd ever been in my life.

  Because I loved him. Desperately.

  I'd grown and so had my love. It changed into a feeling I'd never known. While his for me remained the same. I hated that he held my hand like I was still a child while I craved it in places I hardly dared imagine.

  I still yearn for Killian's hands on my body. Years have passed but no man has ever made me feel the way he could with one simple touch. One finger brushing my skin setting off electrical sparks skittering down my body.

  I never wanted him to go to jail but the betrayal he inflicted was an intolerable pain I have never erased. I was young then and I figured, childishly, that if I could dump the same pain on him as he'd delivered me, I'd be rid of it. And more importantly it would bring him around to what I wanted. What I needed from him with every fiber of my soul.

  “Baby, stop. We can't do this.”

  His words still resound through my ears when I get home in the early hours of the morning from the job I'm forced to do now.

  “I want to. Why don't you want to?”

  “It's not that I don't want to. We just can't that's all. And you know it.”

  “You don't love me.”

  “I love you more than anything in the entire world.”

  “More than her?”

  He didn’t have to hesitate even a beat.

  “More than anything, or anyone.”

  “Then please, please - “

  “Baby, we can't”

  He disentangled his body from mine, where I'd wrapped every limb around his solid form to clamp him to me, to urge him into giving me what I'd wanted for longer than he imagined. I scraped my fingernails down his forearm as he shook me off and next morning there were long red welts from my scratches that my mother eyed with suspicion. She didn’t give a shit of course.

  It was always the same, so long as she had a man she'd turn her gaze away from the truth. She didn't have to have him and she sure as fuck didn’t have Killian. All that mattered to her was that the world thought she had him. That she was wanted.

  That she wasn't one of the undesirable women without a man, which was the honest truth if only she cared to admit it. She was unlovable. And rather than admit it, she spent her life trying to convince me I was.

  It thrilled me, making her wonder.

  At no point, until the morning of the scratches, did it occur to her that I spent more time with Killian than she did. That he took me out and we talked about our lives more than she did with him. That the one time I begged him to get on the couch with me to watch Shameless turned into a weekly routine. And then I found another addictive show that I cajoled him into watching with me.

  And another. Until we were always on the couch together. And when fall turned into winter, I pulled the throw blanket over us and cuddled up against him. Wallowing in the strength of his pecs and abs, his powerful bicep encircling me.

  I had to swallow down the lust hurling at my throat and the desperate desire to reach out across the few inches and take his beautiful cock in my hand.

  I turned sixteen and almost to the day, my curves seemed to fill out. I noticed Killian's body stiffen when I came close. Not when we went for whipped cream frappuccinos or ordered a pizza to eat while watching a movie under the blanket. But when I snuggled up against his rock solid torso, I felt his breath quicken when my full tits crushed against him.

  “Hey doll, bring us another round” the guy with the jowly cheeks slaps my almost bare ass cheek as I pass his table, jolting me out of the past to the reality of now.

  The john knows damn well I’m not waiting on his section, he was just taking advantage. Like they all do, the fuckers.

  “Vick, your ugly table want another round,” I tell the only other girl I've managed to strike up a sort of acquaintance with.

  The others think I'm stuck up. Or judging them.

  “Aren't they all ugly?” she quips. Vick's a bit older. And wiser.

  “Hey, how come you don't make no extra money like the rest of us?” Skye asks one night after I've had at least three offers to go to one of the private rooms at the side of the club.

  “I don't do that,” I snipe, without thinking about tempering my response for sensitive ears.

  “Oooh, she don't do that,” Skye whines.

  The other girls echo her in a sarcastic chorus.

  “Maybe she's got a boyfriend she's saving herself for,” Vick pipes up in my defense.

  “Yeah, kinda.” I agreed, smiling my thanks at her.

  I make pretty good money in tips and it's bad enough walking around the club wearing an almost transparent bra, a tiny skirt that does a lame job of covering my exposed ass cheeks and is flared so that any old dickwad can stick his hand underneath for a grope as I pass. The look is completed with a hideous silver wig that makes me into a nubile robot. At least no one would ever know it was me.

  All that is humiliation enough and probably all I deserve after what I did. I'm not about to take men to the private room for a lap dance. I've only had one lover and I never allowed Brandon to go all the way so perhaps it doesn’t even count as loving.

  He's not the one I was in love with, but I do still believe in love. Passionate all-consuming burn-me-up divine love. I know it exists so this job can't make me jaded even if I do go home every night and cry myself to sleep.

  Except now, now that I know he's out,
I'm feeling something different mixed with the tears. And many nights, my hands find their way between my thighs to quickly relieve the guilt of the fearsome ache pulsating deep inside me.

  Chapter THREE

  Killian

  I get into a routine of riding the bike to a mall each day. Then cruising around the stores, before settling with a coffee at Starbucks to watch the world go by. People's lives intrigue me. The angst they live out in their heads. Although who am I to talk?

  Occasionally women suction my gaze to their own, giving me the look across the cafe. Usually single women. Usually my age or a little younger. Occasionally a pair of girlish friends, giggling as soon as they manage to catch my attention. Looking away then glancing back to check whether I've been lured in.

  It fails every time.

  I could fuck every one of those women and never remember their faces.

  After nearly two years, my dick is howling at the moon like a beast, desperate to be wrapped tightly inside the warm wet core of a woman. One special woman.

  “Are you waiting for Belinda?” a girl in her mid to late twenties, only a few years older than Dusty Rose inquires breathlessly.

  Like she's been rushing. Pretty. Dark hair in a Demi Lovato bob. Eyes all wet and wide.

  “No, not waiting for anyone,” I say, politely. No need to be a douche.

  The excitement drops from her face.

  “Oh,” she says with a pout and starts scouring the crowded cafe.

  She trails between the tables and alights on another lone male, asks the same question, then sits when he nods the affirmative. He is waiting for Belinda. I guess they're on an internet date. Her eyes snap back to me every time he starts talking. The wishfulness is etched into her stare.

  She wouldn't wanna be with a dude like me. Women always liked to be seen with me, in the old days. But after weeks of being back in the world, I haven't been on a single date despite a dizzying array of offers. Who knew the mall was the place to meet hot chicks?

  None have managed to make a dent in my single focus, so I sit it out. Spend my day, after the mall, in the gym before returning to the small studio apartment I rented. The motel finally becoming too much of a hole even for me. Despite being all I deserve.