Page 23 of Falling for the Single Daddy

She grabs onto my arms, pulls herself up, and wraps her legs around me. I growl as I push firmly against her, my cock throbbing, my head a haze of need. She moans as she finds my length, and now, as I stroke my dick, it’s like I can feel Callie’s hand instead.

“I need your tight pussy,” I snarl. “I need to lay you down and see your perfect, curvy body naked. I need to fuck you hard so that every voluptuous inch trembles for me. I’m going to make your body dance for me.”

Fuck,fuck. The voice telling me to quit is getting even quieter. It doesn’t matter if I went weird after the kiss. It doesn’t matter if she decided to act as if nothing happened, and I went along with it. In the fantasy, she’s suddenly lying on her back, pushing her ample and gorgeous tits together, pouting her lips at me.

“Give me your dick,” she moans. “I want it in my pussy. Take me, Gray. Take me. Please…”

It’s like I can feel her warmth wrapping around me. I’m sure I even start thrusting on the bed. I want to be with her so badly. I almost stop stroking myself, go to the guest house, ruining everything—ruining the nanny situation, risking giving myself to a woman who may or may not be playing with me.

Stay in the fantasy. That’s my best plan. I turn her over, imagine her plump ass as she looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised.“Is this how you want it, huh? You want to fuck me doggy style and watch my ass bounce for you? Huh? Then do it, Gray, do it… I’m going to come so hard all over your cock.”

I slip my dick between her ass cheeks, find her hole, and push inside. My hand is pumping so fast up and down my length now, making my length get hot with the motion, with the fantasy and knowledge that I could walk through my backyard and maybe, just maybe, make this a reality. We’ll stop playing this game. Stop living in two worlds. Make the choice to fuck, fuck hard—

I bite down as a stream of come erupts from my dick, gushing from my end. I keep pumping, struggling to hold onto the image, the feeling that comes with it— Callie bent over, her ass bouncing against my abs over and over. But then it passes, and I feel like a dirty old man covered in his own release, an inappropriate image of my nanny in my head.

Standing up, I head for the en-suite to clean off, shaking my head when I catch sight of my reflection. Every one of my muscles is tight and taut against my skin like I’ll erupt any second. There’s a savage roar inside me, an unshakable feeling that, shame or no shame, I need to make this fantasy real.

She decided to pretend it never happened. I’ve already gone along with it. The kiss was precious—far more precious than the tempting, wanton thoughts I’d just experienced. Yet the kissdoesn’t exist to her now… or me. All of it is a mirage. I need to let it go.

I take a hot shower, washing away the memory, the feeling, or trying to. It’s difficult when, even after brushing my teeth, I’m sure I can still feel and taste her lips.

***

The next morning, the three of us sit around the breakfast table. Emery is telling Callie a story about a pumpkin who secretly wants to be a pineapple. Callie smiles, listening, seeming genuinely interested, attuned to my daughter’s unique take on the world. When Emery offers to clear up breakfast, Callie says, “That’s very considerate and polite, Emery. Thank you.”

Emery carries dishes into the kitchen. She’s independent and capable. As I watch her, I swell with pride. It makes me think about those same thoughts I had yesterday about family and belonging. When Callie looks at me, it’s like there’s a film over her eyes, a layer of purposeful distance. She couldn’t make it any clearer if she tried. She doesn’t want to reference or talk about last night.

“What are your plans for the day?” I ask.

“I’m going to take Emery to the library. Then I thought I’d do some housework.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.

She shrugs. “I really don’t mind. I like to stay busy. Then maybe I’ll do some reading.”

“More romance?” I smirk.

She bites down on her bottom lip, causing heat to pool in my groin. Her eyes flit left and right, up and down. They go anywhere except me. It’s like she can’t look at me. She doesn’t want to acknowledge what happened. Or maybe she thinks her job is in danger. I wish I could explain why I was so suspicious yesterday, the ideas Wes put into my head.

“No,” she says after a long pause. “I’ve gone off romance. It’s not my thing anymore. I’m reading a non-fiction book. A biography.”

“About anybody interesting?”

“No, not really.”

She’s being standoffish. It’s not like I can blame her, but that doesn’t mean it’s painless. I feel like a jackass the more I talk. She clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. The kiss was also a mistake. I’m still not sure who initiated it. It was almost like it just happened. Like it was meant to be.

I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my nose.

“Daddy, why so glum, chum?”

I open my eyes to find my bundle of joy grinning at me. “You sound funny when you say that.”

She giggles, sliding into my lap and throwing her arms around me. “You look funny when you do this, Daddy.” She closes her eyes tight and rubs her nose, just like I was doing, but when she does it, it’s cute. And I’m pretty sure she’s not contemplating just how complicated and difficult life can be sometimes.

Even so, she makes me laugh. She can always make me laugh.

“Can I load the dishwasher?” she asks, hopping down.

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