Dusty & Daddy Read online

  “What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing here you douchebag asshole?”

  I look up at the livid face glaring down at me. Soft and doughy with youth, like the pastry Dusty Rose used to crack open in a can.

  “I baked you cookies,” she'd squeal, pleased with herself. Wanting my admiration.

  Dusty Rose.

  I'm not gonna respond with the hostility welling up when I see the kid's face. He might deserve to feel my fist pistoning into his hairless flesh but I've learned that brutality never changes people.

  “You gonna fucking answer me, douche?” he roars, so people turn to look before their eyes slither away again.

  “Get lost, Brandon,” I snarl with all the menace I can muster.

  “You fucking slime ball. You're waiting for her aren't you?” he whines, thinking he sounds tough.

  “Fuck off. It's none of your business who I'm waiting for.”

  “It is my fucking business when it's my girl you're stalking.”

  It crosses my mind to tell him she was my girl first. She only took up with him because she couldn't have me. Whatever. Let him have his little man-tantrum. Steaming at the nostrils like he's got something to prove. One fist from me and he'd be out cold on the solid wood floor.

  “You stay away from her, fuckwit.”

  “I have every intention.”

  “Good. You ruined her fucking life.”

  “As you ruined mine.”

  “Nothing you didn’t deserve. You should have had it way worse.”

  “You're probably right, now move along frat boy.”

  “Yeah, no problem, Grandpa. I see you here again, I'll fucking kill you.”

  Not if I kill you first.

  I don't need to make idle threats. I'm certain he's baiting me in the hope I'll deck him and he can scream the victim to send me back to the hole.

  This coffee shop is not one Dusty Rose and I ever came to. This mall isn't the closest one to my old house, nor the best. I wouldn't be sitting here if I was hoping to run into her.

  Which I'm not.

  You ruined her fucking life.

  Aside from dating Brandon fucking Pennington, what else could be wrong with Dusty Rose's life? I look at the pudgy jock waiting on line for his coffee now, tossing me the occasional glare with as much macho as he can dredge up. He wouldn't stand a chance.

  My heart is fucking pounding out a military tattoo in my chest. Is she coming here to meet him? Surely he would have told me to leave right now. Or texted her to stay away, what with the restraining order and shit.

  The possibility of her walking in has me juddering with all kinds of emotion. Just one second of her beautiful face is all I need. One glimpse of her.

  No.

  I stand and leave the cafe as speedily as possible, without looking freaked. Don't wanna give Dusty Rose's idiot jock boyfriend the satisfaction. Fuck, she deserves so much better than him.

  I go to the gym and spend more than two hours pounding and pumping, attempting to work out the heated sensation pressing at the inside of my skin.

  I wake up fuck knows how many times in the night, feverish and edgy.

  You ruined her fucking life.

  I have no choice but to find out what the fuck he meant by that. It was probably macho posturing from a little victim like Brandon. But I need to be sure. I need to know that Dusty Rose is okay, safe and happy. The idea that she's in a bad place because of me eats at my soul.

  I head out early in the morning and put myself in position to observe her come out of the house to head to school.

  “I want to attend a hometown college,” she'd said. “To stay close to you.”

  We went to look at them together. Her mother had no interest in coming along. Admitting she had a college age daughter was not in her date book.

  Dusty Rose doesn't come out that day or all week. I wonder whether her mother sold the house and moved, but the bitch emerges in her jogging outfit finally, on Friday, and takes off down the street at a clip.

  I'm tempted to go inside the house and check whether Dusty Rose is sprawled in bed, unwilling to go to school like always. Instead, I avoid the greater crime and take off to the college she chose to attend.

  “It's so expensive, Killian,” she'd murmured after we took the tour together, her hand hooked in my arm.

  “It's fine, Baby. Whatever makes you happy.”

  Like I wouldn't have spent my last dime.

  I wait all day, sitting on the bike, down the block where I still have a view of the entrance.

  Come on. Come on, please, baby.

  She never comes out. And she neither enters nor exits all the following week. I start freaking out that something happened to Dusty Rose.

  I don't give a shit if they send me back. I have to find out where she is, what she's doing and make sure she's okay. It's my job to take care of her and I'll keep doing that until the day I die.

  Chapter FOUR

  Dusty Rose

  At the end of a shift at the club, the girls usually dash off home, exhausted from batting away too many probing filthy fingers. Just wanting a cozy bed. But tonight is Vick's birthday. And because she's worked here a bazillion years, Gray, the manager, buys us a round.

  Which is pretty fucking amazing for that cheap bastard. I think he's got a thing for Vick. Not that she gives him the time of day. Except when she needs some time off that is.

  “Cheers. Happy Birthday.”

  Even the dancers stop by our table to celebrate before dashing off. Without the wigs, with the heavy eyeliner and red lipstick wiped off, we all look like normal girls sitting around in a bar chatting about guys, what else?

  It gets a little raunchy and I sip at my drink, hoping my turn isn't called. I don't wanna have to give details of my filthiest fuck when it's bound to come out sounding false.

  Finally the other girls disappear one by one and it's just me and Vick. Two lost girls unwilling to face another lonely night. Tony, the bartender, slips us a refill.

  “Happy Birthday, Doll,” he tells Vick with a wink.

  “Cheers, Babe,” she replies then turns to examine me like I'm under glass. “You've never been touched, am I right?”

  “What?” The blatant query startles me so I almost spurt my drink across the table.

  “It's okay. We were all virgins once.”

  “Shit, is it that obvious? Like I'm announcing my status louder than the garish neon sign above the entrance.”

  “I'm just wondering what you're doing in a place like this. You aren't like the other girls,” she shrugs.

  “I am. I'm exactly like the other girls.”

  “Nah. They all had their hearts hardened over by some guy and are determined to even up the balance. Take back the girl power.”

  “Exactly.” I say with conviction.

  “That young jock I've seen you with a couple times, he broke your heart?”

  “No.” I blurt. “Not him.”

  “Wanna share?”

  “Someone else. A man with experience. He was older than me.”

  “Only the young place any real importance on age. Numbers have no meaning when it comes to love.”

  “Yes. A delicious man I wanted more than my life but couldn't have. You ever had anything like that?”

  Vick cocks her head to one side but doesn't answer. Talking about Killian sends goosebumps jogging down my arms. Once I start, I want his name in my mouth, the memory of him brought closer by telling Vick everything. I can't stop myself from spilling how I destroyed a man because he wanted me too much but refused to take me.

  “He went to jail for me but he never laid a hand on me,” I tell her. “Not like that. He always touched me. Held my hand, stroked my cheek. We loved each other harder than rocks in an avalanche. Then all of a sudden there came a time when one finger on my skin lit a cascade of electricity firing through my body.”

  “Hmmm,” Vick smiled with a delicious moan.

  She's the first person to react like t
hat instead of recoiling in shock. She's the one person I can tell everything, like anything goes. And I'm vibrating with the pleasure of remembering my life with Killian.

  “We were under the blanket watching my favorite show together like always. But this desire in me, this overwhelming insatiable need for Killian's touch became more than I could stand. It was like something rose up in my body and took over. His arm draped around my shoulders wasn't enough. My tits pressed into the side of his chest with a burning hunger. When his fingertips touched the side of my neck, they set off clenches down between my legs. Just that simple tiny touch from him ravaged every part of me. I grabbed his hand and pulled it down to cup my tit.”

  I stop to take a breath as I recall how my body was urging him to squeeze the flesh and tug my nipple, already pushing desperately through my tee shirt.

  “He removed it immediately,” I continue. “But he couldn't help but notice how I was lusting for him. Trying to make him touch me, I started tugging on my little points. Twisting and tweaking them to relieve the eager yearning for his touch.

  “Time for bed, Dusty Rose,” he said.

  So cold.

  “You come with me,” I begged with a whimper.

  He shook his head no and I threw myself at him. Clawing at his shoulders, trying to cover his mouth and draw his tongue inside me.

  “No, baby,” he insisted. Pushing me away.

  Gently.

  But pushing me away.

  I got up off him and stormed from the room.

  In bed, I curled up tight and cried and cried. I heard him at my door, listening. No doubt checking up on me, to see if I was okay.

  “Daddy, come here quick,” I cried out in a scared voice.

  He came into the room.

  “What is it, baby?”

  His face was stricken with worry that something was wrong. That I'd done something to myself. He didn't get how I was suffering at his rejection.

  “Please hold me,” I whimpered. “That's all. I feel so alone.”

  He lay down on the bed with me and as I nestled into his strong arms, I managed to maneuver the quilt out of the way so nothing was between us.

  “I love you, Killian.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  “Please, I want you to be the first.”

  “We can never have that kind of love between us, Baby Girl.”

  I could feel the heat of his cock, grown massive beside my belly and the desperate urge to feel it inside me again hurled itself through my body with more force than I could gain control over.

  “Please, Killian. Touch me. Touch my pussy. Let me have your dick in my pussy.”

  I tipped my face up to his and before he had time to think, his mouth was on me. The most delicious kiss, taking every corner as his, the way I wanted him to possess my pussy. I was driven insane with desire. I crawled up his solid chest and threw my leg over him to straddle his cock, which I could see was huge as it strained against his pants.

  My PJ shirt was already undone so as I sat up on his pelvis, it fell open. He saw my perky full breasts naked and swaying in front of him and he was mesmerized by the sight of me. His hands were on my hips, holding me firmly in place, preventing me from grinding on him.

  When I reached to take his beautiful cock, to set it free from his pants, he tore his eyes away from my tits with an immense effort. He rolled me over and yanked the cover over my naked body before disappearing from the room without even a kiss goodnight.”

  “And you think that's unrequited love?” Vick says.

  “He was my best friend. I miss him so much there's a massive empty cavern inside my body where he used to fill me up with love.”

  “Forbidden love hurts most of all.” Vick nods and reaches over for the bottle Tony dropped at the table.

  “This hurt is irreparable though and it's all my fault. I pushed and pushed. Oh, God.”

  My face goes into my palms as I try to erase the memory of that night at the same time I want it fixed in my mind forever.

  Chapter FIVE

  Killian

  I'm inflamed with the need to know that Dusty Rose is okay. It's tearing at my insides and I do everything I'm under direct orders not to. I don't give a shit. All I care about is that she's okay. If it's not me making her happy, I can at least make sure no one's making her miserable. I'll carry that fucking burden for both of us.

  Now I head to the malls she and I used to hit, every store, every coffee shop and Thai food court counter brings forth vivid memories of times spent with Dusty Rose. I wait at her house day and night but only her bitch mother ever goes in or out.

  One time I think she catches sight of me. I jerk back out of sight and she keeps going, strutting her ass down the sidewalk and getting into her car, then driving away. Dusty Rose never exits or enters her school either but I don't recognize any of the girls she used to hang out with to ask after her. Every young woman looks different now. And she never spent that much time with friends anyway, calling them mean girls.

  You're my best friend, Killian.

  Of course there could be a simple explanation. Dusty Rose never got along with her mother so she may have found her own apartment. But that doesn’t explain why she isn’t in school. There's one way to find out. I go to the bank in person because I still haven’t bought a laptop. What do I need one for now?

  My personal banking manager emerges as soon as I step in. Clacking her heels across the stone floor, she doesn't seem surprised by my changed appearance. No five thousand dollar suit. No designer silk tie. Just a rap she must have heard about. She still flutters at me and says she'll check immediately.

  “No, the payments to Smythedale College stopped after one semester,” she says. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  There's the look again.

  “No. That's all. Thanks for checking.”

  I extricate myself from the feeling of being smothered by her and head out to the open air.

  What the fuck? If I'm no longer paying for Dusty Rose's school, who is? I know her deadbeat mother who never held a job in her life sure isn't, that means she more than likely dropped out. It becomes even more important that I find where the fuck she is.

  It's that same user piece of work that gives me a clue. Not meaning to of course. If she could keep me away from Dusty Rose she would. Out of envy, not any sense of care for her only child.

  Monique shows up at my door completely unexpectedly one evening. Late.

  “Aren't you going to invite me in?” she simpers.

  “No.”

  “Why not? You think I didn’t see you stalking me the other day?”

  I'm about to set her straight but then I recall I'm not supposed to be looking for Dusty Rose. I don’t need her mother calling the cops on me. Again.

  “Nice bike by the way. Gonna take me for a spin?”

  “How did you find where I live, Monique?” I say wearily. Not wanting to get into her games.

  She's wearing a blouse that's almost bursting over her big tits. A tight skirt, too short for her. What the hell ever brought us together? I knew the day of the courthouse wedding that I was going into the biggest mistake of my life after nothing more than a brief fling. It was only the sense of wanting to protect the teenager she treated like a slave girl that had kept me around.

  “The stupid girl at the bank seems to be under the impression we're still married,” Monique says with a smirk. “I told her I had papers that you needed to sign.”

  Fuck. I changed my address but not my marital situation. Let's hope Monique didn't clean out the account. I don’t give a shit about the money. I've got only one concern lodged deep in my thoughts.

  “So what is it you want?” Why the fuck are you here?

  “We can let the past go now.”

  You have got to be freaking kidding.

  “It's not too late for us, Killian.” She flutters at me and puts her hand on my arm in a way that makes me gag. “You can come home and we can be tog
ether. Alone at last.”

  “We'd be alone?” I ask. Seeing an in and giving her some semblance that this interests me, in order to make her talk.

  “What about your daughter?” Where the fuck is Dusty Rose?

  “I had to tell her to leave. She became completely obnoxious, screaming at me for reporting you to the police. I mean I was only repeating what her boyfriend told me, that you got in bed with her. I never wanted you to get in that kind of trouble. It was all on her, the little slut.”

  “You threw her out,” I state, because I know it's true.

  “I know she came on to you to ruin my marriage. She was always trying to compete with me,” Monique says, getting worked up at my obvious concern for Dusty Rose.

  I slit my eyes at her remarks. When she realizes no way I'm letting her back in, she can't resist the final smug remark.

  “Little whore deserves nothing better than the stripper job she's working at now.”

  The instant I get the information, my mind blows white hot. If I was the type to hit women, Monique would be sprawled across the passageway. Instead I get rid of her coldly and five minutes later I'm at my first strip joint.

  I say first because I check every one in town, looking for Dusty Rose and it takes the entire night. Management and security aren't keen to share the identities of their girls so it's a matter of taking a table in the joint and scouring every face.

  I fend off the invitations to lap dances and private sessions even though I'm horny as fuck after so long. I have to find Dusty Rose. It takes almost a week of nightly hunting through every strip club in town.

  I don't know what the fuck I'm expecting when I arrive at almost the last place on my list. The furthest thing from the fancy joints I'd been checking out before. Populated by business suits and frat boys gawking at jiggling titty while they drown themselves in overpriced watered down booze.

  This place is like something out of the prohibition era. Down an alley lined with dumpsters in place of a sidewalk, with exactly one street light. I can't imagine Dusty Rose working in a joint like this. She deserves so much better.