Old Temptations: Dad's Best Friend Romance Novella (Experienced Men Book 1) Page 5

  Chapter SEVEN

  “Red light,” I shout, my heart bounding even more wildly against Carl expanse of chest wall.

  He mustn't withdraw from our merged agonized pleasure. I've almost achieved total connection to the man I've dreamed and wondered about for, ever. Then I feel the rigid tension fire through his muscles. He's here with me at school, in the class dark room, between my legs, fucking his best friend's daughter.

  “Do you want a coffee? I'm going to the commissary.” Josh asks from the other side of the door, mere feet away. Only the red light indicating any light leaking in will ruin my work prevents him from barging in like Carl did.

  “Yes, coffee. Dying for coffee,” I gasp.

  “'kay, back in a flash.”

  “Is there anything I should know? Do I need to get my pistol ready for dawn?” Carl growls low against my ear.

  “Absolutely nothing,” I say, feeling the lust seeping away from him with the awareness of how wrong our desire is. “You don't need to be at all jealous. Or anything like that. If you were, that is.”

  I can't imagine anyone coming between us, definitely not a kid like Josh. The thought of Carl being enraged about a boy less than half his age almost makes me want to laugh. Except I know it's because he's claimed me as his now. I'm sitting here with my legs stretched wider apart than they’ve ever been begging Carl to bury inside me to the hilt.

  He can't tear his eyes away from the sight of my spread pussy, his still hard cock lying in my soaking slit. I pull my lips open for him. The sight of my glistening juices clinging to his length might encourage him to slide into my depths and relieve this gaping need.

  “You're so beautiful, your pussy is perfection.” He strokes his shaft into my chasm, making me mewl. “But we can't Blair,” he moans and buries his face into my neck.

  I know he has the same possible scenario springing to mind, of someone who's going to really have a shit attack if he ever finds out. Someone who will definitely shut this down when he does. Daddy.

  Carl stays that close to being buried inside me and my hungry channel continues to pulsate around his head, refusing to give up on the fantasy she's clung to. I jag my fingernails into Carl's shoulders and you can almost hear the thoughts rushing like bullet trains through his mind to meet mine.

  “Jesus fuck Blair, what have we done?” he moans into my now damp hair. I rotate my hips slightly for that delicious sensation of his wide girth grinding close to my core. The teasing tug makes him groan and bite down on my skin with covered lips. “You're young enough to be my -”

  “Who cares?” I say, anxious for him not to slip away from me with guilty associations. “All that matters is what's between us.”

  What's between us right now is his enormous shaft that's expanding against my entrance again, threatening to invade my walls. Hooking one thick forearm under my cheeks, he lifts me off the workbench, then turns to heft himself up to seated with my thighs wrapped around his waist. I want to be impaled on him. I want to sit in his lap with him stretching into the deepest part of me, merging into my inner core.

  My eyelids flitter with the twitch and rub of him at my sensitive tight circle. My breasts perk from being displayed for this gorgeous older man who wants me. Who's always wanted me. But continues to resist.

  He settles comfortably on the bench with me sitting straddled on him, my arms around his taut neck, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like when I was a little girl.

  “You should be dating a kid like Josh. He's the one I saw you with last night, in the parking lot?” Carl says, one hand clasped around my spread thigh, his thumb pad stroking across the tender inner part close to my slit sending new curls of hunger through me. “He's obviously hot for you.”

  “I get to choose who I want to date,” I insist.

  Is that what we're doing? Dating? Will Carl be my boyfriend?

  I almost faint with the delirious high. I want to ask whether he'll stay here. Whether he'll leave LA and come back to work for my father in San Francisco but I'm afraid of the answer. I don't want this to have been an unfulfilled fantasy.

  “And Josh is the furthest thing from what I want,” I add.

  “What do you want, Blair?” he says, his throat hoarse. “Now that you're all grown up and not my little girl any longer.”

  I love the way he calls me his little girl. It reminds me of all the ways he took care of me when my father didn't bother. Dad paid all the bills and did everything necessary to ensure I was raised lacking nothing. But it was Carl who noticed when I was sad. It was Carl who came to sit beside me when I was hurting and alone, convinced that feeling would never leave.

  “How's your day going, beautiful?” he'd ask.

  He always told me I was gorgeous and perfect. Even when I opened up to him, before I burst apart from the effort of holding the shame in, that I had no friends. That the kids at school thought I was weird and only came to the house because their parents told them to, the ones I realize now that wanted something from my father.

  “If people can't appreciate you for who you really are, then they aren't friends, Blair Baby. It takes a long time, even for adults, to realize who genuinely cares about them and who wants something. But once you find someone that does care, you never let them go.”

  I thought Carl was that person. Until he upped and vanished right after the last one of those overblown events, without so much as a scrawled goodbye on a post-it.

  “I want a best friend who cares enough not to leave.”

  Goddamn that came out bitchy. Why should he have stayed around for a teenager who was nothing more than his client's lonely spoiled child? He probably had to pretend to be nice to me just to keep my dad sweet. He must have an exciting life in Los Angeles, single, rich, handsome as fuck. Except that he's here in my school dark room making his desires pretty clear. I've just got to find away to get him over the hurdles.

  “But to stay, I want more of you,” he says as though reading my mind perfectly. “I want you to be mine and that's going to cause one fuckton of problems.”

  “Nothing we can't get through,” I whisper.

  My fingers dagger through his hair. I love the thick cords of muscle at the back of his neck, solid enough to hold up the world on his shoulders. “Together.”

  “I don't want you to make a mistake.”

  “And I don't want you to,” I reply.

  This goes both ways. He's the catch of the century. Surely he knows that from the women swooning in his path whenever he walks across a room. It occurs to me that he's unaware of the adulation he inspires.

  “I'm certain of what I want. Hell, I've had enough time to consider my wicked ways. Even being a thousand miles away from you didn't stop me thinking about you.”

  “Really? You never called.” Even the birthday cards, which he never once forgot, were signed with the formality suited to my dad's lawyer.

  “I had to leave. I had a ton of feelings that came busting out of me that last time we danced. You were turning into a woman and I was losing control of myself.”

  “I felt exactly the same that night. It killed me that you went away without a word. I thought I did something wrong.”

  “Oh baby, no, you could never. I had no idea you felt like that. You saw last night the same reaction you give me when I touch you. Back then I figured you might have thought I was some dirty old guy getting hot for you and I couldn't stand for you to feel that way about me. Plus your father would have killed me. He probably still will but I can die happy now.”

  “Wow.” I don’t know how else to verbalize what I'm thinking. That Carl felt the same desire as me all these years and kept it hidden from everyone, even himself, is off the charts. Do I even dare to hope? “So why did you come back for another wedding dance now?”

  “I really believed what was between us would have run its course. No—that's not true, because I knew my feelings for you would never diminish. I guess I hoped perhaps they might have melted away or that
I'd see you with a guy your own age you were smitten with. In which case I'd be devastated but happy for you and let you go.”

  “I could never have been happy with anyone but you.”

  “That's good because when I did see that guy within ten feet of you, I wanted to fist his face like a piston engine.”

  “Oh shit, speaking of Josh, he'll be back with the coffee any moment.”

  “You mean I have to walk away from this sweet pussy clamping around my cock so it's howling? Just when I was powering up to bend you over this bench and finally fuck you until you beg me to stay forever. I might still have to knock that kid out.”

  Carl slowly sets me down on the floor. His beautiful cock is still lifted and filled with desire for me. It's all I can do not to wrap myself around him again. I want to taste him and suck him, not push him inside his jeans. He reorders my clothes so tenderly I feel an upswell of emotion that almost pushes tears out my eyes.

  “You okay, Baby?” Carl asks, his thumb stroking the length of my bottom lip, stops halfway as his eyes search mine. I nod furiously and then fall into his welcoming arms.

  “I can't believe this,” I whimper against his rock-solid shoulder.

  “I know sweetness. It's a lot to take in but I'm going to take care of it. You don't need to worry.”

  I'm about to tell him I'm not worried. That I don't give a fuck about a single thing in my life aside from being with him, when there's a knock at the door and Carl shoots away from me like I'm molten. We both turn redder than when the developer light cast its erotic glow across our features.

  “Soy cappuccino extra shot, did I get it right? Oh hello, Sir.”

  Josh sets the coffee cups down on the bench and looks down at the puddle on the floor, the upturned water bath.

  “Is everything okay?”

  His eyes flick back and forth between us, like he's not sure if he needs to man up and take care of something here.

  “It's fine,” I say, noticing how Carl is clenching his fingers in a desperate attempt not to form that piston fist.

  I've never in my life had two guys get feral over me so it's strange that things have all come at once. Feast or famine. All I know is I don't want Carl to feel worked up about nothing. I have to get him out of here, away from Josh and to a place I can complete the seduction and get him inside of me. I've been a greedy little girl, coming all over his lips and fingers so my limbs are now liquid, while Carl's left with blue balls.

  “Sorry Josh, can I get a rain check on the coffee? Carl came by to tell me my dad needs me right away. You know how that goes.”

  “Oh, okay. I guess. Do you want to take -”

  “I'll call you tomorrow,” I shout from outside the dark room and down the hall where I'm half dragging, half being dragged by Carl and trying not to burst out laughing. I feel rotten for Josh's awkwardness and don't want to be the cause of it but at the same time I'm so freaking happy and I want my man to myself for more than five minutes.

  Once again, Carl leads me out of a building and across a parking lot. He takes my hand in his fist sending curls of delight up my arm.

  “We'll leave that here,” he tells me as we reach my little 1970s Datsun.

  He continues toward a big BMW sedan that's a bit of surprise. I never knew Carl was so traditional. I guess it's because of the job. He needs to make a certain impression. But he continues walking until in back of the suburban executive vehicle we come upon a low hog, pawing at the ground like a road wolf and I grin.

  “Are you kidding? Who are you Charlie Hunnam?” I say.

  He's so unexpected and never in that cheesy mid life crisis way. Everything Carl does is natural and cool and suits him perfectly. I know Carl is more than double my age but he fits me so perfectly you'd never know it.

  “I'm afraid I can't give you that dream,” he says, half wistfully. Again he's got the age difference in mind.

  “This one is better,” I tell him.

  He grins wide and tiny pleasure wrinkles crease up at the edges of his eyes. He can pull off forties better than any man I know (with my father’s endless new business dealings I've met a few in the age group and no one ever compared to Carl). I never should have doubted for an instant. Carl carefully pulls the helmet over my head and clips it underneath my chin, making certain it's secure. His broad fingertips graze the skin of my neck and send frissons of urgent craving through me.

  I watch him throw an agile thigh over the beast and kickstart the engine into a low growl.

  “It sounds like you,” I say as I settle myself behind him.

  I've never been on a motorbike before and the thrum of the engine coupled with having my legs wide open for the man I adore in full public view is exhilarating. I shift my thighs to spread them a little bit wider and shimmy my open slit harder into Carl's rear. Having him between my thighs again, my slit grinding around him sets off renewed throbbing.

  I don't think I will ever get enough of Carl licking and biting and pounding inside my deepest embrace. I can't wait to get him alone, where we can count on no more interruptions. At each corner I point out the directions the short distance to my studio. He handles the giant machine easily and I love how our bodies move as one with every swerve and turn he takes.

  “That was incredible,” I say, when we dismount and he removes the helmet gently, careful not to pull on my neck as the tight rim clears my cranium. “I've never ridden before. It was like being at the fair.” Carl frowns almost like he's irritated by my childish giddiness.

  “The fun’s only just beginning.”

  He takes my hand in his as soon as we've locked away the helmet and leads me to the building. I can see he's checking the security of the darkly lit street in the industrial part of town, the one ancient key I use to unlock the main door. His frown gives way to bemusement as we step into the gigantic old warehouse lift with the lockjaw opening for stowing oversized items, never meant for two sensitives souls on their way to complete their clandestine connection.

  Obviously he's used to something a whole lot more ritzy, having worked for my father and his associates. I realize I never once went to Carl's place all the years growing up he worked for my father. I'm sure it was expensive and perfect as the pages of an interior design magazine. Well he's about to see how starving artist types live.

  “Are your balls in agony?” I say wrapping my arms around him.

  “You have no idea for how long,” he says, pulling me into the powerful circle of his arm.

  “I'm going to pop each one into my mouth and suck it like candy,” I murmur in his ear.

  “You're going to suck a whole lot more than that. And that hot tight pussy of yours is still begging for me to stretch her wide. Every delicious part of you is gonna open and surrender to me.”

  Chapter EIGHT

  I unlock the metal door and Carl steps inside my studio. One room but at least it's not a cubicle like the new highrises that have shot up throughout the city. This old warehouse has yet to come up for renovation and it probably never will. More likely to be bulldozed to rubble.

  I can't believe how an army of tiger moths has lifted off in my stomach now that we're finally alone. Carl is in my little space.

  Here.

  With me.

  It feels so grown up and totally different. I so badly want him not to say something negative, like when my father showed up to check on his latest investment, the few thousand I'd borrowed to set myself up outside his control tower and told me no daughter of his had to live like this.

  ““Um, I'm all out of single malt,” I say, “Can I get you a beer?”

  “Love one,” he says, wandering the full perimeter of the room, taking in the semi-grubby 50s couch I found at Goodwill and fell in love with the lines of. Perusing the industrial shelving that holds my equipment and sort of separates my bedroom area.

  Mostly he gazes at the walls. Blow-ups of my best work hang on the exposed brick in an attempt to hide the destruction and stains of god knows what.


  “Jesus Blair, you are so talented. These are amazing. How the fuck do you put so much sensuous sex into a photo of a flower?”

  He takes the beer and pulls me against him, kissing me with the full force of his admiration. I have never felt so proud. Knowing Carl thinks my work is good means everything.

  “Repression maybe?” I say, full of meaning.

  “Shit, I don’t wanna be the cause of that dwindling to nothing.”

  His face turns downward again and the frown returns. Something is definitely making him angry.

  “Is anything wrong?” I say, noticing how easy it is to ask him anything. I'm not afraid that he'll get into a rage like my father does or blow me off like a young guy. “You seem annoyed, or mad.”

  “No, Angel. Just sad. You have your whole life to come. I don't have the right to take that from you. You should be with a guy like that kid, Josh, the bastard.”

  “I don't want a guy like that. This isn't a girly crush on the strong perfect man,” I tell him, noting how he startles at the word perfect. “I've wanted you my whole life.”

  “And I've wanted you but it's so wrong. I'm far from perfect and this is going to bring down a shitload of judgment on us. I need to shield you from all that.”

  “Hey Mr Lawyer, when can we stop worrying about judgment crashing down from above?” Long enough to dive into sin and never climb back out.

  “Ex-lawyer,” he says. “I gave up practising over a year ago. It was never my calling.”

  “Wow, my dad never said.” I'm wondering why my father told me absolutely nothing about Carl apart from the very rare times I inquired. I half didn't want to hear in case he was married with six kids, but at times was unable to quash my need to.

  “Yeah, he wasn't too happy. It almost wrecked our friendship but I convinced him we could still be buds as equals.”

  “Daddy's not a man you want to cross,” I say, half to myself. My father went down to Los Angeles regularly for business trips but he never took me and he never once mentioned that he'd hung out with Carl.

  “That's another thing that isn't going to be pretty in this. Your Father might completely ostracize you if he thinks we're coming together behind his back.” I can't think straight for the ideas of us coming together filling my head.