Page 3 of My Dad's Best Friend

I stuff that thought away. This is just one fantasy that isn’t going to play out. No matter how many times I’ve fantasized about it. I’m just a kid to him, his friend’s kid. Besides, he could get any woman he wants just by glancing at them. He’s not going to be interested in playing babysitter to me for a few weeks, and he’s certainly not going to be interested in spreading my legs and showing me how a man is supposed to take a woman.

Not a chance.

Chapter Two

Conner

I didn’t think much of it when John asked me to come house sit and look out for his daughter while he and Kath go on their Alaskan cruise. Since coming back from Europe, my time has been spent catching up on sleep in a hotel and trying to line up a condo to live in and my next clients to work with, and even that, I’ve been half assing. My time abroad brought in enough cash that I can take some time off to enjoy myself and recover from the stress of work and travel, and readjust to the American way of life.

How I’ve missed it.

No matter how many rugby or soccer matches I watched, there’s nothing that beats American football or even baseball. Give me baseball over cricket any day of the week.

I pull up to the familiar house. Kath and John bought it when they were expecting Marie. I thought it was extravagant at first, but now that I’m older, I can see that it’s the perfect family home. One I would want to raise my own family in if I ever get around to having one.

I’m beginning to doubt that path is on my horizon. Pushing forty, I’ve almost given up on finding the one, or even looking. I haven’t been out ‘on the pull’ as the Brits say in a few years, not wanting to waste my time or energy on a woman who isn’t a candidate for a diamond ring from me.

Some men are lucky, and find their sweetheart when they’re young, like John. Some men are just like me.

I ring the doorbell to find John on the other side of the door.

“Hey stranger,” he says opening his arms for an embrace.

“Long time no see,” I say.

“Tell me about it. Hey, thanks for doing this,” John says, lowering his voice. “I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing. Marie has a flare for the dramatic sometimes, but just incase…”

“You know I’m always here for you if you need me.” I pat him on the back and pull out of the hug, looking beyond John into the house.

And there she is.

Marie emerges from the hallway under the stairs, her auburn hair thick and wavy, bouncing in time with her perky breasts under the loos fabric of her white, summer dress. Her tanned legs are bare, long and delicious, a beautiful stark contrast to her white-painted toenails.

I move myself away from John, feeling the blood rush to my cock at the sight of her, feeling every ounce of want I’ve ever had for a woman gather and multiply at the brief sighting of little Marie, all grown up.

Only one thought is on my mind. She is mine. Right here under this roof is my woman, waiting for me to claim her.

I’ve had women before. I’ve wanted them, and had fun pursuing them. But I’ve never known that one belongs to me, never felt the territorial urge that’s gripping me right now. I’ve never wanted to possess another being as badly as I do Marie. And I’ve never felt such intense arousal at so brief a sighting.

And the one I want to possess is Marie, my best friend’s daughter. I know it’s what I need to remember to behave myself, but all I can think about is feeling her skin under my fingertips as I explore every curve under that dress, and seeing her mouth open for me as I part her legs.

Fuck I’m getting hard just thing about it.

I bring my bag in front of me, concealing my cock from her father.

“Marie,” John says, calling after his daughter who’s disappeared into the kitchen. “Conner’s here.”

Her head pops out of the kitchen before the rest of her follows, moving towards the entry hall of the house. Her eyes are bright, welcoming, blue and dilated above her smile. Her lips are painted a pale pink, and her blue eyes sparkle almost as much as the diamond I envision giving her. I wonder if she knows that she wants me yet, or if I’ll have to convince her.

“Hey,” she says, shyly.

“Hey yourself,” I say. I step forward and give her a hug, like I always have. I resist pressing myself against her, letting her know just what I think of this grown up version of her. Instead, I breathe her in, hungering for the floral scent surrounding her, muted by vanilla. I have never wanted to taste a woman the way I want to taste her.

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