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

  “You planned all this for us?”

  I'm amazed he went to so much effort to create a unique picnic in these amazing surroundings. He lifts me up onto the flatbed and I sprawl back on the cushions feeling like some Arabic Princess in Carl's harem.

  I can't help but notice that he's again rocking a massive swell in his jeans and I'm astounded that it's all mine. As he lowers himself beside me on the pillows that will double perfectly as a bed, again I want to rip open his zipper and pull out the beautiful solid shaft from its prison to wrap my mouth around it.

  Carl pulls the champagne from the ice bucket and twists the cage from the cork, I climb up to pull one particularly large green grape I've spotted from its stem. Carl grins and his lips part, expecting me to repeat his tease from before.

  But I plan to go one better to entice him. Instead my hands drop to flatten against my legs and claw the fabric of my dress slowly up. The material bunches into my hands as more and more of my thighs are gradually exposed.

  Carl stops all motion and his eyes are glued to my flesh as I gradually reveal myself. Standing over him with my legs apart, I'm so aware of how close my slit is to his mouth I can hardly breathe. In fact I'm not inhaling at all, as the hem of my dress reaches the triangle of my underwear. I don’t think Carl is either and his eyes are riveted to my inner thighs and my fingers clawing at my flesh there. His chest is rising ragged as his breath quickens.

  I slip the grape under the lace. Immediately a rush of lust throws itself through my soaked lips as my fingers graze across the ridges. Pulling my lips open and offering him a brief glimpse of what could be dessert, I reach my pussy mouth and with a quick shove, push the grape inside.

  Carl's eyes are hooded and his face reads total lust as he watches my performance. He's pinned to the flatbed, lying on his back with me astride him. His gaze roving over me but unable to act. For good measure, I insert each finger tip between my lips and tongue off the juices residing there. Carl looks like he wants to devour me whole. Then I drop the skirt and plonk back down beside him on the blanket.

  “Let's eat,” I echo. “I'm starving.”

  “Is it your purpose in life to drive me completely deranged?” Carl asks as he sets up a row of what looks like twenty glasses of wine.

  “I'd like to try,” I murmur.

  “There's no trying, only doing,” he utters while setting down two wooden holders each containing a row of five glasses that he pours various hued wines into. “And you're definitely being very pro-active.”

  “You enjoy a little tipple or two,” I say. “This is enough booze for ten of us.” Is he trying to get me drunk?

  “It's called a wine flight,” he tells me. “A perfectly co-ordinated set of all the grape varietals in the winery. I ordered both red and white for you to sample everything on offer here.”

  “I'm not twenty-one yet,” I remind him and immediately regret it when that frown from last night reappears. I can tell his head is working in a way I want him to forget.

  “I know that. For a lawyer I go pretty rogue when it comes to stupid laws.”

  I can't help but feel that Carl is rogue about plenty of stuff but I'm still distracted by the grape warming up inside my chasm. Is he going to take me up on dessert or does he think I'm still a silly girl with one gigantic crush? I quickly calculate that if I throw back all this wine real fast, it will be the perfect excuse for the bad behavior I've got in mind. In case he rejects me.

  I pick up one of the petite glasses with no stem, just a bowl, and nervously chug back a mouthful.

  “Holy fuck, that's good,” I half splutter. “I'm more used to the stuff that comes with a spigot attached. This is like nectar.”

  “A '97 Zinfandel,” he says. The furthest thing from pretentious, he twirls the ruby liquid in the glass then drinks a powerful slurp. He holds it in his mouth, lying on the tongue I've got sinful plans for, before swallowing with a satisfied smile. I can't stop watching his every move. His thick fingers cupping the delicate glass, his mouth full of a sensuous delight. I'm almost jealous of the fucking wine for Christ’s sake. “A very good year,” he adds.

  Does he know that was the year I was born? Duh, of course he does. He was around at the time. Oh god I hope he's not trying to tell me something. That this has been a weekend of sexy seduction? That now he's taught me how to open up and surrender as a real woman, this is our farewell. A mist of misery envelops me. The idea that he's going to leave, tonight or tomorrow shreds my soul.

  Chapter TEN

  “Open up,” Carl says.

  I do and he pops in a divine bite of something made with smoked salmon. I hold the creamy mousse on my tongue instead of chewing ravenously and sit motionless, shivers curling up my arms as he lightly trails his thumb across my lower lip. His eyes possess mine as though he's living something out inside his head. I want to climb in there with him and insist it's all good. I want to press my body through the membrane of his skin and inhabit his entire being.

  Then before I know what or how, although I'm very clear on why, I'm on top of him. He's hauled me to straddle my knees around his broad thighs.

  “I think you have something hidden that belongs to me,” he says, his hand clasped around the top of my thigh, the thumb an inch from my spread pussy. “Open that sweater,” he orders. I unbutton the cardigan slowly, enjoying his torment as his eyes strain to rip it off. “Good girl. Now the dress.”

  So now we know why he wanted me dressed in wraparound clothes. He wants access to view my body whenever he wants. I get it, I'm a visual person as well. But I need Carl to know this isn't wrong. He needs to make that leap to me being a grown up now not a little girl. He can fuck me hard as long as he wants.

  “Take your tits out of the cups. I want to look at you.”

  I do as he says. My hands tremoring with delight at where this is going. Carl's jeans have tightened to the limit with the swollen mass lying only a hand's breadth from my open spread. I spill my breasts out for him and he groans at the sight of me.

  “Let me taste the finest nectar of Gods from your pussy,” he bites out then I'm dragged up his body, over the mass of chest muscle onto his face. He inhales me through the fabric of my light lace panties and bites at the hard ridge poking out there. I'm slightly embarrassed that I'm already dripping wet for him but I know this is how Carl wants me.

  He drags my underwear hard to the side so he also has a view of my glistening pussy then covers his mouth with my open dripping hole. When he's sipped up all the juice, he nips at my clit and slides one tantalizing finger through the quivering entrance into the deep channel, eliciting a gasp from me. He hooks around the fruit inside me and uses it to press into a spot halfway inside me that sets brushfires blazing all over me.

  When I'm shaking and out of control again, he sucks the fruit out of my pussy and pops it into my mouth. The skin simmering from my heat and slick with my gathered juices. Carl flips me so he's covering me and our chests slam together. He's a total gentleman in public and a beast in private. His hands are everywhere at once, feeding the fire of lust in one spot before deftly leaving that breathless and moving to the next. My body is a fairground whirl of excitement. As I glue myself to every pore of him and we grab at the heavy sweet air around us, he lifts me to another pinnacle.

  “Please Carl. This is so good.”

  “It's wrong, Angel Baby. I'm too old for you. I could be your father.” The ache billowing out from my vacant cunt is almost too much to bear. His bicep bolts cage me to his chest, my bare breasts locked to him. His hands dagger into my tangle of hair as he moans against my neck.

  “Oh god Blair. Blair my baby. I could keep you like this forever.”

  I arch my back to clench down on the throb between my legs, pressing harder into the iron pulsating against the tender nerves. It would take one swift movement, nothing more than an unzip to free his cock, which I can tell by the heft of the bulge against his jeans remains of significant proportion. A one-fingered hook to
the side of my panties and we'd be joined. His shaft finding the hollow of my entrance behind the slickness, plunging in and forcing through the resistance inside to take me.

  “Carl,” I murmur. I have to grab for more breath before I can push out another word. “I want you.”

  “Oh fuck I want you baby. Fuck I want you so much it's killing me. This agony is never gonna leave me.”

  “Excuse me Mr Hardison?”

  Neither of us heard the dirt bike pull up in front of the truck's cab. One of the winery employees is standing with a red face trying to look anywhere else. I have to say, Carl is a master of control, acting out perfect innocence.

  Without shifting his connection to me, or releasing the back of my head where he's cupping it in his palms, he says; “What is it Henry.”

  Only I can tell from the hitch in his throat how much emotion he's holding in. Only I can feel the solid rock pressing into my pussy beneath the skirt of my dress swirling around us. I wish more than anything that Carl was buried all the way up to the hilt inside me right now. Actually from the tiny smirk on Henry's lips as he looks at the dry ground, he probably thinks that's exactly what's happening.

  “Are you with Mr Hardison?” A voice crackles from Henry's belt. His walkie-talkie keeps him connected to the main house.

  “He's right here, Amanda,” he says into the little box.

  “Did you inform him I need him at the hotel. We have to talk about yesterday's situation,” the voice is female and a little sharp.

  “On my way,” Carl says, loud enough for this Amanda to hear.

  As Henry disappears up the vine path, Carl turns to me, our faces so close they can't help but touch. His warm breath with a sweet wine odor falls on my lips.

  “Duty calls,” he murmurs. “Unfortunately.”

  “Will I never be able to seduce you without someone busting in on us?” I say. I'm about to ask what duty but with my legs still wrapped around him, Carl loads his thighs to climb out of the truck. I throw my arms around his neck as he lifts the weight of us both effortlessly.

  “Imagine me carrying you home with your pussy hugging my cock the entire way,” he says as he carries me up the path, his boots grinding in the dirt while I hang on, my pussy mouth rubbing into his pelvis with every step. “I want you impaled on me. Your mouth hugging me intimately every fucking moment.”

  I thread my fingers into the peppery curls at the back of his neck and lay my cheek on his shoulder. Pressing my nose and lips against him to inhale the hot dusty smell of his skin and dry kiss the vein pulsing there.

  We reach the door to the fancy house at the same time a woman appears. She startles at the unexpected sight of Carl emerging from the vines, carrying a grown woman on his hips, completely twined around him.

  “Is everything okay?” she snaps in a customer service tone, looking me up and down with a derisive stare. She's wearing as suit with a tight knee length skirt. Her blond hair tied back in a tight bun. “Is she ill?”

  “She's fine, Amanda. We were just playing,” Carl grins and Amanda looks even more put out. She clearly hadn't expected the playmate along when she sent out the SOS. Speaking of which, “So where's the fire?” Carl adds.

  “I need to run to the washroom,” I say in a low voice, bringing my lips perilously close to his ear. He releases my thighs to allow me to slide the inners down over his body until I reach the floor.

  Amanda's eyes are riveted to my performance as much as she's attempting to look away and not give me attention. I get the idea she's got the hots for Mr Hardison herself. She's not at all his type, I think, mentally hugging myself that I am. But then it occurs to me as I follow the directions Carl gave to the bathroom that I have no idea what his type is. I've never seen him with a woman. And I'm glad of that for some reason. It seems bizarre to even try to imagine him with anyone other than me.

  In my entire life he's never brought a woman to any of the many events he attended with my father. He always rode solo at weddings. I never observed him leave with some young bridesmaid like my father often did. Perhaps it's not unusual, Carl was more my dad's wing man. Going to poker games and strip bars as his sidekick. I need to get back to him. My body already craves his cemented to my side, his hand resting heavy on my hip or my lower back to pull me in, showing everyone I'm his.

  As I examine myself in the washroom mirror, the well and truly satisfied sheen to my face starts to slip. My skin all glowy and pink from my make out sessions with Carl shadows with humiliation. My dad is a man whore. I've only ever know him to start chasing a new woman as soon as he's caught the last. Each one getting closer to my age. And Carl accompanied him on many hunting trips. I used to hear my father on the phone telling Carl what downtown club to meet him at for the evening's entertainment.

  “Don't wait up, Princess,” he'd tell me. “Daddy's got business to attend to.”

  Don't like minds club together? What makes Carl any different from Darling daddy? My glow evaporates as my mind manages to convince me that I'm nothing more than a hunting weekend for Carl.

  No, I need to stop with the insecurities.

  Not all men are the same. I'll be fine as soon as I get back to Carl's adoring gaze. But he and Amanda aren't in the office she was seated in before emerging to meet us and I can't find them anywhere on the ground floor. I doubt they would have gone into the winery where the tastings are held but I don't know.

  What was the big deal she needed to speak to Carl about? Who calls a customer to come to their office? Something about yesterday's situation, she said. What was that? Carl told me he had to go out of town yesterday. He must have come here. But why?

  I walk up to the reception desk as a young guy in a sleek gray shirt emerges to relieve the girl dressed the same, apparently going off shift.

  “They went up to one of the bedrooms,” he tells me, fingers clacking on his keyboard, to catch up with new arrivals I guess.

  What?

  “Mr Carl Hardison, are you sure you have the right Mr Hardison?”

  He looks at me like I've tasted too much of the product then recalls that I'm a guest even if I look like a kid. Actually I am, I’m not twenty one for another two weeks. That's why Carl had me out in his truck so we could drink. Always bending the rules to suit his needs.

  “Of course, handsome gentleman, tall, dark blond, interesting facial hair.” I grab the edge of the reception desk as the clerk waxes poetic about the man who was just stroking my inner lips and telling me to beg. “Miss, would you like me to dial the room and let them know you're here?”

  “Er, no. That'll be okay.” My voice wobbles as tears threaten to push over, onto my cheeks. How childish would that be? “I don't need to speak to Mr Hardison that urgently.”

  Or ever.

  The asshole.

  Was he having some filthy fun with the schoolgirl he's enjoyed teasing for years? I cannot believe that's the man I love. How could he do this to me, in public, far from the city? I have no idea where I am. It's like those bastards you hear about that dump their trusting girlfriend by text. I walk as fast as I can on legs that are crying out to crumple. I careen into a couple of guests arriving at the winery and then the doorman behind them, weighed down by luggage.

  “Sorry, so sorry,” I stumble down the steps to the driveway. The white gravel pristine against the green of the vines and the impossible clear blue endless sky, now starting to pink over. The view is interrupted by the huge black bulk of Carl's truck. People are emerging from the winery to take a sunset stroll through the vineyards. Their eyes travel over me. The girl with the wild eyes, floundering around alone, without a protector to snuggle up to.

  Suddenly all I want is to get away from here, from him, from everything. I don't want to hear any petty excuses, although there can't possibly be any. What reason could he have for going up to a room in a boutique hotel with a woman clearly hot for him? I need to be in my own safe little space where I can close out the world and not have to face Carl leaving me.


  I cannot believe he'd do this but the last thing I need to see is Amanda's smug grin bearing down on me triumphantly.

  I wobble across the gravel and pull open the truck's door, haul myself inside, away from the curious stares of people all coupled up. The interior smells masculine and rugged, Carl's scent infuses the leather of the seat. I want to curl up in the indentation and inhale the aroma and everything about him to keep it with me, permanently tattooed. I should just wait for him to come find me, talk to him but I'm too jagged with hurt. I can't face him telling me it won't work between us. That I need someone my own age, like Josh. That he needs someone his own age, like business-suit Amanda.

  I just need to get away.

  Then I remember the key under the sun visor, pull it out and fumble it into the ignition. The engine roars with eagerness to get going. I can't even reach the pedals and more fumbling is required to discover how to move the seat forward. Finally I put the beast in gear. It lurches as I reverse and then pitches forward down the long drive. I feel like a rookie driver, completely out of control of this monster.

  The vineyard on either side make tears prickle harder, from the memory of the perfect afternoon I spent in Carl's arms. The blur to my vision making it even harder to control the truck and I feel so stupid and girlish.

  The truck crushes the rough drive, the big wheels skimming over all obstacles. It takes an age of bouncing around before I reach the turn off to the highway, in a turmoil of confusion and hurt, unsure of the direction. A decision and flick of the indicator.

  My foot jams onto the gas then slams back onto the brake as a flash of dark color swerves around me to the passenger side and slugs to a halt across my path.

  Carl lifts his thigh over the saddle in that impossibly sexy move and strides toward me. His face a mix of concern and frustration, with a little bit of fury.

  I sit with my hands clutching the wheel, the total love I feel for him pushing at my edges.