Her Dad’s Best Friend

Chapter 88

He starts to unpack dinner, which smells good enough to make me salivate. I swallow hard. I realize

that I skipped lunch because of how fussy Danny was today. It just slipped my mind.

He does the same thing that he did yesterday, pulling out the actual stuff you need to set the table.

"Do you wash your own dishes, or is that something your Alfred handles?" I haven't seen a

housekeeper or anything. "I schedule cleanings every few weeks when I know I'll be home. Yes, I load

and unload my own dishwasher. Danny goes through bottles too quickly for me to leave it that long. But

I'll admit my Alfred takes care of the laundry. " He waves his hand at the cloth napkins. "Any laundry

you have, you can just leave it downstairs in the sink."

"Or I can walk to my house and do my own laundry when you're home. Maybe I'll do that today."

He shrugs. "Whatever you want."

And then both of us dig into our meals. The rich, creamy sauce is just what I want. There's broccoli and

chicken in the dish, too, which makes it slightly healthier. I can see that he's eating grilled rosemary

chicken with a vegetable medley on the side.

In a few minutes, my stomach is bulging and I've finished the whole thing.

"That was so good," I say. "What restaurant was it?"

"I'll have to ask Marjorie. Normally, I pick it up myself, but I stayed so late that she arranged to have a

delivery guy from the restaurant swing by the office around 7."

"Cool." I don't understand the casual acceptance of having other people bring him stuff, but I guess I'm

an employee, too. My dad is self-sufficient to an absurd degree, no matter how much money we have. I

guess that without a wife and with a young baby, Jeff has allowed himself to delegate more tasks.

"I haven't been by the office lately," I say. "How's Marjorie?"

"Still a firecracker," Jeff says. I laugh, because I still remember the time when she used to unplug his

intercom every day so that he'd have to go to her desk. Sometimes I felt like Marjorie ran the whole

office, which was kind of true. She was in her seventies and had spent her entire career shepherding

executives. She was the best of the best, which meant that she spoke her mind whenever she wanted.

She was always sweet to me, constantly slipping me candy when I was a kid. She was the one who'd

made sure that there were feminine products at my house when I was about to hit puberty. I watched

the videos and stuff in health class at school, but she'd gone the extra mile for me. I hadn't had a nanny

after ag

e 10, but Marjorie was someone who thought of all the details.

"Maybe I should bring Danny by for lunchtime one day."

"How about tomorrow?" Jeff asks. "I'd love to see his face." A cloud drifts over his face. "I normally

spend the whole day near him, but..." "I'm sure it's hard. He's had a little separation anxiety," I confess.

"And I think it might help."

"Sounds good."

I clear my throat. I go to the sink to rinse off my plate.

"Um, so, I guess I'll go to bed?" My voice is a little higher pitched than normal. I'm agonizing over

whether I should ask him if we're going to spend the night together or if he's too tired.

"Sure. If you want to bring your toothbrush in my bathroom, it might be easier on you."

No discussion, but he's making it clear that he's expecting me to go upstairs. Thank goodness. I don't

even know how to have this kind of conversation. He's the only person I've ever had sex with. I don't

know what kind of protocol or whatever applies in this situation, where I'm a teenage girl living with a

grown-up while I take care of his kid.

I pop into my room, wash my face, grab a set of pajamas and my toothbrush, and head upstairs. I

brush my teeth standing next to his sink, which in some ways feels more intimate than what we did this

morning. When I put my toothbrush in the holder in his room, it means that I'll be sleeping here for the

foreseeable future.

I know it's too early to go to bed. But tonight, I feel like skipping my normal ritual with my Kindle. I climb

under the covers. My eyes drift shut and I'm asleep in Jeff's bed before I can even hear him coming up

the stairs.

Bristly Kisses

Elia

I wake up to someone kissing my neck. I can feel the light bristles abrading the soft skin. "Good," he

says. "You're up."

Sometime during the night, I lost my pajamas. His big hand skates over the softness of my stomach

before it settles between my legs. With expert pressure, he circles around my clit. I buck against his ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

hand. I know that he's totally sober. Everything is dark and quiet. He presses his erection against me.

What time is it? Midnight? Two AM? I seriously can't tell, and then I lose track of any train of thought at

all because he's pressing himself into me and the only thing I can think about is how hot he feels inside

of me.

I'm still partially asleep as he rides my body, spreading my thighs wide as he pushes even further inside

of my body. He plays with my clit, which makes my back arch in a bow before I climax under him. He

grunts as he unleashes his seed inside of my body. I milk more out of his cock before he collapses on

top of me.

"You're heavy," I tell him. "But it's perfect." I can't breathe too easily right now, but who needs to breathe

when there's a hot guy inside of you? I trail a hand down his back. He's sweaty and breathing as hard

as I am.

"You're perfect," he tells me, biting my earlobe. Then he withdraws, leaving a cold emptiness inside of

me. I can see motion as he heads for the bathroom. He comes back with a wet towel, which he uses to

clean me up. When he goes back in there, I can hear running water as he cleans himself up. Then he

climbs back into bed and pulls me into the curve of his body.

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