Page 23 of Never Let You Go

“I guess so.” My daughter seems to have it all figured out. I could use some of her candor right now.

“That’s what Alek-zandra said.” She turns her back to me and dives into her overnight oatmeal.

It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and these two women seem to have it all figured out amongst themselves.

I turn to Grace. “Could you show her around town today, help her settle in?” I scratch at my nails. Alexandra has a manicure, and I need her to get rid of it before starting work.

Grace frowns.

“You’ll know what to do. She’s a girl—a woman. I figured it would be more welcoming if you—”

“Of course, no worries. I could use a new face around here. Is she very young?”

I scratch my head, knowing what’s coming. “Twenty-five?”

She says nothing, just nods with this know-it-all look and a huge grin on her face.

I shake my head. Not a chance. “I gotta go,” I say, kissing Skye on the forehead. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Figs.”

Skye frowns and tilts her head. She’s totally into jokes right now, and I’m going to milk it as long as I can. “Figs who?”

“Figs the doorbell, I’ve been knocking forever.”

She erupts in a fit of laughter. “Figs! Fix! Good one, Daddy.” She high-fives me. Grace chuckles and shakes her head. “Never gets old, does it?”

“Let’s hope not,” I say, and duck into the bakehouse to check on my crew. And also so I don’t run into Alexandra.

After an hour or so, I go back up to shower. I’ve been at work since four. Mid-morning, I usually need to reset, and this morning more than usual.

The bathroom is steamy and smells different. As my brain registers that I told Alexandra to use my shower, my dick goes in full-on needy mode. I lock the door and get under the water. I close my eyes, but all I can see are Alexandra’s boobs perking toward me, begging to be fondled. What kind of sound would she make if I sucked on them? Would she push my head between her legs? How does she taste? I open my eyes to change my train of thoughts, and my gaze falls on a long, straight hair at the level of my dick.

Alexandra’s hair.

I’m done for.

I stroke myself, giving in to my fantasy of lifting her and fucking her standing up in the bathroom, then throwing her on the bed to take care of her pussy and send her pleading, then flipping her and taking her doggy style, making her mine, putting my mark on her.

That’s the price I pay for staying away from women for so long. One delicious temptation and it’s a fucking revolution in my pants. A full-on coup.

I come in long, powerful streaks that hit her single hair repeatedly. And tell myself my brain is back in power.

My relief comes, but the frustration doesn’t ease.

I shouldn’t want her now, but I still do.

Jerking off in the shower like a teenager didn’t solve the problem. I need to remove the root cause.

I need to send Alexandra back home.

I wrap a towel around my hips and grab my phone.

Sifting through the emails, I quickly find the contact I’m looking for.

After introducing myself to the receptionist at the Red Barn Foundation, I explain why I’m calling. I’m put on a brief hold, then transferred, and I repeat my request to cancel Alexandra Pierce’s apprenticeship, this time buttering it up with some bullshit excuse about another apprentice I committed to.

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