Page 27 of Father Figure

He still didn’t get it. Fuck! “His fuckable lips made for sucking dick and his pretty come-fuck-me eyes, and…and…his tuggable hair!” I mimicked his words from last week.

Sam was still laughing. Asshole. “I said pillowy lips and long lashes. That other shit, that was all you, man.”

“Fuck off.”

“So, is that what this is about?” He popped my glasses off my head and folded them, tucking the arm inside my shirt. “You realized little Nicky isn’t so little anymore?”

I swatted his hand away. “You’re a dick.”

“What about Nicky’s dick?” he taunted. “Did you catch a glimpse of it in that tiny scrap of spandex when you took him to Barbados? Did he wear it again this week?”

I was tempted to knock his smirk off his gorgeous face. “It’s fucking transparent when wet! And this week, that Speedo would have been a blessing. Instead, he went fucking naked!”

Sam laughed loudly. He was enjoying my shame way too much. “And now you can’t unsee it?”

“Exactly. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

His laughter died down, but his smile remained. “What do you want to do?”

“Nothing!” I defended too hotly to be believed.

“Uh-huh. So it’s like that, is it?” He turned, walking into the living room, and I followed, plopping down on the couch beside him. “First of all, calm the fuck down. I don’t need your attitude, and I don’t buy your protestations for a fucking minute.” He breathed out loudly, and I copied him, taking a deep breath and releasing it. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing I’m admitting to,” I scoffed.

Sam chuckled. “That’s what I thought. Thank you for being honest.” He ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed his phone to check the time on the lock screen, and set it back down. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yet.”

“Are you planning to?” Sam turned to me, looking curious.

“Are we really discussing this?”

“He’s not related to you, by blood or by law. He’s…”

“He’s Brian’s kid!”

“He’s not a kid anymore. Nicky is nineteen. You and I have fucked several guys that young.”

“I’m not fucking him, Sam! Fuck!” My face heated with shame just from saying it out loud.

“But you’d like to.” He turned his body toward me, folding his knee on the couch. “Has he said something to you?”

“No, not really. Just…you know how he is, all…”

Sam raised his brow, smiling. “Clingy and doe-eyed? Cass this and Cass that? Yeah, I know how he is. A little too soft and sweet for my liking, but if you’re into that sort of thing, which you are, I can see how easy it is to feel confused about mixed signals. Yours and his.” He framed my jaw with his thumb and forefinger, turning my head. “A hug is just a hug, and a kiss is just a kiss, if you want it to be. That’s what you have to figure out. Are you a father figure to Nicky, or do you want to be his Daddy?”

“Oh my God, cut that bullshit right now.” Pulling free of his grasp, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need you to nail my ass, hard. Maybe I’ll stay over tonight.”

Sam shook his head and stood. “I’m not going to keep absolving you of your guilt. I’m not his fucking stand-in.” Grabbing the remote, he shut off the TV and headed down the short hallway that led to his bedroom. “You can let yourself out.”

“Sam,” I called.

“Next time you beg for my cock, make sure it’s actually mine that you want, not his.”

Fuck! How did I get myself into this fucking mess?

I let myself out, and for good measure, slammed my truck door shut one last time. As I drove home, his words echoed through my head. Did I want to be a father figure or a Daddy?

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