Daddy Crush by Adriana Anders

Author:Adriana Anders [Anders, Adriana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-26T18:30:00+00:00

13

Hey Daddy

Karl

She opens the door and, though I didn’t expect a repeat of last night’s outfit, I’m half disappointed that she’s fully clothed.

“Hi, Karl.” Her smile, the way she lowers her head a little, and bites that plump lip, eyes still on mine—that’s all pure, perfect Jerusha. It hits me in the gut. I’m almost sick with anticipation.

If I didn’t know myself, I’d say there’s a good dose of nerves mixed up with the excitement. And, hell, maybe so. There’s pressure in what I’m here to do. Got to get it right, don’t I?

“Hey.” I lift the pizza and beer and wine I picked up earlier. “Dinner.”

Her pixie smile loosens some of my tension. I’m not here to teach her rocket science. We’re gonna make out. That’s it.

“Heavy Petting 101,” I say, flippant as fuck.

“Oh.” Her blush deepens. “Right. Should we…are you sure you want to eat? I mean, do you have time, or maybe you just want to—”

“Let’s eat.” I give a nonchalant shrug and meet her eyes. “Make it like a real date. Good practice for you.”

“Of course. Like a real date.”

“Second date.” My lips go into a deep, automatic frown. “Make that fourth. You might not want to do it too soon. If you…” Shut up, dumbass.

I shut the door as she grabs the pizza and heads back to the kitchen, reminding me of a similar scene, just the other night. With notable differences. Like, oh, say, the things we’ve said to each other in the past twenty-four hours. And, hell, the fact that we’ve heard each other come. I know, for example, that she stops breathing at the specific moment it happens. Stops moving at all.

I want to see that intensity, maybe put my hand to her throat and feel her go still, press my mouth to hers; get a deep taste of her pleasure.

“…without Squid?”

“Sorry.” I shake myself. “What was that?”

“You didn’t bring Squid along?”

“Oh, nah. Figured it’d be better if…” I trail off. Maybe she doesn’t need to know all of my thought processes.

“Better if he’s not here?”

“He, uh, gets curious. Sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Wow! Okay, yes. I hadn’t thought of that.”

I force a laugh. “No manners.”

We set the pizza up on plates, each grab a drink and head to the living room, without a word. Impossible to tell if it’s awkward between us or comfortable. I hope the latter, but, aside from work and family and the very occasional screw, I spend no time with women.

I sit on the sofa, she sinks to the floor and it’s confirmed—shit’s weird.

“Uh, Jerusha, do you—”

“Don’t feel like you have to—”

“Sorry?”

“Say that again?”

We laugh, definitely awkward, and come to a stop.

In the silence that follows, I set my plate down and bend forward. “You okay? After last night?”

She nods, watching me. “I’m good. Are you?”

Just as I’m about to give her an automatic yes, I stop and reconsider. How do I feel about this situation? Do I like it?

Hell, no. Like is too small a word for what’s happening in my body right now.

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