Her Dad's Friend (3 page)

I make my way to the cave to get out of the sun. It’s quiet and dark, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. Paul ducks beneath the water, and when he comes back up for air, he’s in the cave with me. He lifts me up into his arms, cradling me. “Remember playing Superman when you were a kid?” he asks.

“Don’t do it!” I say, laughing, but I’m already being tossed in the air before I’m finished protesting, making a huge splash when I land. Coming out of the water, my top slips. Not all the way off, but enough for the pinks of my areolas to show. I’m mortified, cupping my breasts.

Paul comes up to me and removes my hands. The suit is literally hanging on by my nipples. He adjusts the triangles of fabric to cover me, fingers grazing my collar bone as he moves them up to tie the strings tighter.

“Oops,” he says with a wraith of a smile.

“They keep trying to escape,” I say about my breasts.

“Maybe you should let them off the leash once in a while.” His smile stirs the beast between my legs. It wants out. It wants to devour Paul.

“Maybe I will.” I act like I’m about to take off my top. He watches intently to see how far I will actually go.

When I drop my hands without taking off my top, he says, “Tease,” and splashes me.

We take turns dunking each other under the water, which for me—and probably him too—is just another excuse for us to touch. He’s flirting in a way he never has before, a hand brushing slyly against my breasts, my ass. I do the same to him, too. He lifts me, this time grabbing between my legs, fingers digging into the fabric. It’s so startling that I don’t scream or make a noise when he tosses me. When I come out of the water I wipe my eyes and we both just stare at each other, his gaze bright and wanting.

I’m finally feeling bold enough to go up to him and tell him how much I want him, but then my mom calls out, “Everyone out of the pool. Time to cut the cake.”

The little water world Paul and I had been in, where only the two of us existed, starts to break up and scatter. The noise of the party and the fact that my parents are here slips into my reality and kills the mood.

Disappointed by the intrusion, I start to get out. I’m halfway up the ladder when I notice Paul isn’t following. “Aren’t you getting out?” I ask.

“No, I’m not. Thanks to you and that bikini.”

I feel myself blush and I have to admit, I do look pretty good in this bathing suit after all those kickboxing classes I’ve been taking. “What, this old thing?” I say and pull the fabric of the bottoms into my crack so that it looks like a thong.

Paul reaches out and slaps my bare ass cheeks with a loud thwack. I let out a sound of surprise, something between a yelp and a moan at the sudden sting and pleasure of it. The pain soon warps into wonderful warmth and a throbbing sensation. Suddenly I’m picturing myself naked and draped over his knee while he spanks my butt until there are pink handprints left behind.

Our eyes meet and his are hooded, watching me with obvious lust. If I wasn’t surrounded by my family, I’d fuck him right here and now.

“I … um,” I stammer. “I’ll go get you a towel.”

I grab a towel off one of the lounge chairs and he’s out of the water. As I walk toward him, the shape of his erection beneath his board shorts is right there in front of me, straining against his waistband. He gives me ample opportunity to take it all in before reaching for the towel in my hands. And believe me, there’s a
lot
of it to take in. Maybe more than I can handle in one sitting. He’s definitely bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with before. I’d like to find out just how much my body can stretch.

Feeling exposed, I put my cover-up back on and walk to the table where my mom is lighting candles on my cake.

Everyone sings the birthday song. My dad sings the loudest. He’s definitely drunk. He’s not the singing type. I pass him another drink. As soon as he’s drunk enough, my mom will insist on taking him upstairs and putting him to bed to stave off any kind of embarrassment.

After cake a group of us play rummy while Paul and my parents catch up. I feel him watching me. Every time I look up, his eyes are right there and he offers me a smile.

The wind starts to pick up and the temperature drops. Those still standing after the unlimited supply of alcohol make their way indoors. It’s only a handful; Emily and her admirers, my parents, and Paul. Most of my friends leave early since there are tests tomorrow morning. We all drink more and talk. Paul huddles with my dad in their man corner, laughing and talking about old times. I steal glances at Paul and marvel at the way he commands a room with his quiet confidence. How everyone leans forward to hear what he has to say. There’s just something about him that demands attention without saying a word. And yet there’s not a single arrogant bone in his body. He’s truly beautiful.

Around midnight Emily goes home with a cute guy who sits in the front of several of my classes. It’s nearly one in the morning when my mom declares it’s time to take my dad upstairs.

“I should probably get home,” I say.

“Why don’t you just stay the night here?” my mom suggests.

Staying with Paul under the same roof while I’m amped up? That’s probably not a good idea. I don’t think I’d be able to control myself. With all the security cameras in the house—most of which I know the locations, but some of them I don’t—it would be too risky.

“I can’t,” I say. “I told my neighbor I’d feed her cat while she was out of town.”

“Let me put your father to bed then I’ll drive you home,” my mom says.

“It’s fine, Mom. I can take a cab.”

Paul’s deep voice next to me: “I’ll take her. I haven’t been drinking. It’ll be safer that way.”

I pull in a breath and hold it until my lungs feel like they might explode.

Safer for me maybe, but who will save Paul from me when I get him alone?

“Are you sure?” my mom asks. “You just got into town. I can’t ask you to do that.” Her words lack any sincerity. She doesn’t want to go anywhere, but I know she will if she has to.

Yes, he’s goddamn sure!
Go to sleep already.
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my words.

“I insist,” Paul says. He looks at me with an intensity that weakens my joints.

After saying goodnight to my parents, Paul and I leave. His truck is blocked in, so we take my mom’s Mercedes. The entire ride to my apartment is filled with casual conversation and minor flirting. I start to wonder if that’s all this is for him; harmless fun. But then I think about the way he slapped my ass in the pool, and how he touched me … Even if it is harmless for now, I have a feeling he’ll change his mind in the right setting.

We get to my apartment. I’m afraid he’s going to drop me off and leave, but he turns the car off and says, “Let’s see this place of yours.”

We walk up the stairs and I open the door. I have to kick my shoes out of the way to clear a path for us to walk. It’s a mess.

“Sorry,” I say. “I haven’t had the chance to clean lately. Whenever I’m not at school I’m at work.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry about it. I was a student once, too.”

“I have to run next door and feed the cat. I’ll be right back. There’s beer and soda in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”

I run next door, fumbling with the key. I don’t know my neighbors all that well, so it was a bit of a surprise when she asked me to go inside her place and feed her cat while she was gone, but whatever. The bowl is still half full, the cat lazing on the couch, not even acknowledging my existence. I hurry and fill the bowl with food and the other with water and head back to my apartment.

When I come back, Paul is in the kitchen, filling the sink with soapy water.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Helping you out. It’s your birthday; take a load off.”

I’m not going to argue. There’s something kind of sexy about watching a man clean.

“That was some party,” he says over the clank and clatter of dishes being washed. The sound is so jarring and real, and for the first time as an adult, I have him all to myself. I can have him. I know I can. I just have to be brave enough to take what I want.

I watch his shadow move across the floor and say, “I was genuinely surprised. Mom and Dad—and even Emily—are usually always so predictable. I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” he says.

Shaking out the nerves, I push out my chest and raise my chin. I’m a Viking. A raider. He’s mine. I’ll beat him over the head with a club and drag him to my room if I have to.

“Cute apartment,” he says.

He wants to make small talk and that’s fine, but we can do that after several orgasms. Right now I have the female equivalent of blue balls and an itch that desperately needs to be scratched.

I poke my head around the doorway. Not exactly the charging Viking I’d pumped myself up to be. I’m getting to that. Baby steps.

“Thanks.”

Watching him move around my kitchen, I can imagine domestic bliss with him, rubbing his feet at the end of a hard day’s work, putting a baby to bed then making love all night. Imagining what it would be like to warm his bed every night has all the pent-up tension from the day starting to drip down my leg.

I go into the small kitchen. It’s a hideous tight space with black and white checkered laminate flooring, crooked cupboard doors, and chipped counter tops. We can’t move without bumping into each other. I slide in behind him, holding on to him and pressing my breasts against the tight column of muscle in his back. He stiffens and makes a noise in the base of his throat I just barely hear over the sound of the faucet running.

“Sorry,” I say, squeezing past him. “I need to get a glass.”

When he tries to maneuver out of my way, stepping behind me, I press my backside against his groin, pinning him against the fridge.

“Rachael,” he says, voice low and cautious. “We can’t.” There’s no conviction behind his words.

He puts his hands on my hips as if to push me away, but makes no attempt at stopping me as I arch my back and begin rolling my hips, cradling his growing cock in the cleft of my ass.

He groans and leans forward to press his lips against my neck. “We shouldn’t,” he says this time.

Can’t and shouldn’t are two very different things.

I close my eyes as he begins to rub against me. “But it’s my birthday,” I say.

He turns me around so that I face him. His eyes narrow, chest rising and falling as if he’s forcing himself to breathe. A tug-of-war plays out on his features, the pull between lust and guilt. I watch his battle until finally he swallows and crushes his lips against mine, kissing me. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, gently nibbling and sucking. I moan into his open mouth. The tip of his tongue darts out, finding mine, tentatively at first, then winding together.

His tongue ripples over mine, gliding across my teeth and the ticklish spot on the roof of my mouth that raises goosebumps over my entire body when touched. He grasps the sides of my head, holding me like I might take flight if he were to let go—and it seems entirely possible because I’m buoyant. Floating. Inside, my body and mind are a perfect storm where everything is crashing together and coming apart and completely obliterated. No one has ever kissed me like this before, with such desperation, and I know that no other way of kissing will ever be satisfying after him. He will ruin me for everyone else who comes after. That thought is terrifying because I don’t want there to be anyone after Paul. For me, it’s always been about him. It will always be about him. I will chase this feeling to the end of the earth.

When we break for air, lungs heaving, I touch his abs, brush the tips of my fingers lightly over the muscles that cobble his stomach, caressing the micro-hairs. He shivers and leans forward, kissing my eyelids, my forehead, nose, chin. He kisses me everywhere on my face but my mouth, teasing me, sending me through the ceiling.

One hand cradles my head while another slides down my neck, down the middle of my chest, stopping on my ribs. He lifts my swimsuit cover to my waist and slips his hand beneath it. His thumb just barely touches the soft swell underneath my left breast around my bikini top. His skin is hot. Heat radiates into every part of me.

His entire hand rests on my right breast now. I lean forward, encouraging him to grip me, or squeeze, but he’s taking his time, savoring this. It’s a slow, agonizing exploration. This is the first time our age difference has become obvious to me. I’m used to young men my age diving right into the deep end without taking the time to get used to, and enjoy, the water. Part of me wants him to just rip off my bathing suit and be inside me already. But then this will be over, this lovely torture.

He’s watching me, our eyes locked together as his hand slides lower, touching the front of my bikini bottoms. I’m breathless as I wait for him to make his next move.

He must see the anguish I’m feeling, because his lips move into a teasing smile and he asks, “Is this what you want?”

Moving my hips, pushing myself into his hand, I say, “More than anything.”

His lips crash against mine again in a fevered kiss. As he rubs me through the fabric, I make gasping, yearning noises. He takes my tongue, sucking on it.

“You’re so wet,” he says more to himself than to me when he releases my tongue, and I can’t say anything because I’m off in some euphoric land that, up until now, I thought was just a myth talked about in romance novels.

“I want you inside me,” I beg.

I’ve never been good at waiting. Even though I’m sure prolonging these feelings will be worth the wait, I don’t know how much more of this teasing I can take.

Just as his fingers start to move under the fabric, I hear the front door to my apartment open on whining hinges. The moment he hears it, Paul hurls himself away from me like he’s been shot, his eyes wide. He looks almost confused seeing me standing in front of him.

“Rachael, are you here?” Emily’s voice calls out. “I forgot my dorm key.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, “It’s just Emily.” But when I go to take his hand, he moves it out of my reach.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he sighs and says, “I’m sorry, Rach, this shouldn’t have happened. I need to go.”