Page 43 of Silver Fox's Secret Baby

Whether it’s the force of my thumb or the warmth, Harley’s body convulses as she comes again. Harder this time. She cries out something that isn’t even words, curling herself into my chest and clutching my biceps weakly. “I can’t–I can’t–”

“Shhh…good girl,” I whisper, idling my hips back and forth until I know I’ve been milked completely dry.

Harley lifts her head, a pained look on her face. “Not again, Grant.”

I nod solemnly.

She swallows audibly and a look of determination settles on her face. “Never again.”

13

HARLEY

Iwake up the next morning in my bed with a horrid hangover. Dre and I partied practically all night after the awards ceremony. He kept asking me why I was in such a good mood. I didn’t have it in me to tell him I’d gotten fucked backstage.

I wasn’t sure if he asked too many questions if I wouldn’t just break down and reveal the truth. I’d just fucked Grant Neville, otherwise known as my dad’s best friend, backstage. For the second time.

And somehow it was even better than the first time.

I knew the second we got into that room alone that I was done for. I couldn’t resist poking him just enough to see if he had been thinking of me.

And I hate to admit that when I realized he had been, my heartsangwith the power of a choir of angels.

The space between my legs is sore in the best way. I rub my ankles together like a cricket and roll over in bed, a smile on my lips.

Fuck.Stop smiling, Harley. This is serious.

I need to tell someone. I can’t keep going on like this. The guilt I’m feeling is twofold.

One, I’ve betrayed my father. Twice now. Three times and that’s a pattern.

Two, I can’t seem to stop betraying my father. In fact, the more I chastise myself, the more my mind gravitates toward Grant.

Two years ago, I promised myselfno more older men. After all, what reason would a man nearly twice my age have to be with me? Unless something was wrong with him and he was looking to use me up?

However, from the way Grant worshipped my body last night, the commitment with which he made me come not once, buttwice,well…

Most women would say to hold onto that man for dear life.

I throw the covers up and jump out of bed. I have to go see my dad. That will bring me back down to earth. Force me to repent my misgivings. I won’t tell him, of course, that would be stupid and rash. It would just break his heart, and after everything, I can’t do that to him.

I just need to be reminded of who I’m hurting. Then I can say the Grant Neville thing is done and dusted.

* * *

I headover to Burbank after calling my dad and letting him know I’m going to drop by with coffee and pastries and he can’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, my dad is always,alwaysprepared for a visit from one of his many daughters.

“You can help me pull weeds out of the garden!” he had said cheerfully.

“Dad, it’s like ninety degrees,” I say, lamenting the August heat.

I heard him laugh over the phone. “That’s why I need my favorite weed-pulling daughter to help me.” Then he hung up, not another word to be said.

I have donned my best weed-pulling attire (some old shorts and a tank top from a band that’s no longer together) and head out on the highway on my hog. In the wake of my hangover, I take it easy and don’t ride the middle line. And since I’m not wearing my usual leathers, I wear a helmet for Dana’s sake.

I park down the block from Dad and hit up the coffee shop just a short walk away. He drinks scalding hot black coffee no matter the weather, whereas I’m an iced coffee girlie through and through. I’m also going to pick up some coffee cake because I’ve had a hankering for it.

As I stand in line, I can’t help but wonder how Grant Neville takes his coffee. When I was interviewing him, he took it black with one sugar, but I can’t help but think he was just trying to be polite. Dre would have happily run out and gotten him the most bougie, most specific latte his heart desired.

---