Desire: A Single Dad Contemporary Romance Read online

  She’s grown up so much. I can remember holding my baby girl in my arms as if it was yesterday. Now, she’s telling me that I can’t come into her room without a formal invitation. She’d kill me if she found out that I was sitting here right now.

  With a hushed laguh, I close the door to my daughter’s room. I’m immediately reminded of the conversations I had with Azure about the setting of boundaries in our house. She had said that I, as a man, had to respect her space. It is something I do with pleasure now. Catching Azure in her underwear once had been more than enough for me. Now, I knock and ask her permission at least three times before I enter the lair of developing womanhood.

  My little girl’s gone. She is nearly all woman now. I’m somehow reminded of Stella’s question back at the Eye of the Needle, when she had asked whether Azure has a boyfriend. Intuitively, I know that that day is not all that far off anymore. and the thought draws a sigh from my lips. I find it next to impossible to imagine myself sharing Azure’s affections with another guy. With a scowl, I force the notion from my mind. It is soon replaced with another matter that has been plaguing me ever since I left the tattoo parlor and Stella’s house.

  One thought about her is enough to get me thinking about her beauty again. I can still see her standing before me in the hallway of her home, beautiful and enticing, ready for me to take her and fuck her stupid. Why didn’t I? I had read all of the signs she was sending me. Stella wanted it and I wanted it too. I shake my head—too much trouble for just a fuck. Somehow, I know that Stella would never leave it at that.

  Entering my bathroom, I remove my t-shirt and throw it into the laundry basket. I stare at the large mirror, but I don’t look at myself. My gaze starts to blur as my mind takes over. I groan. I have a perfect view of Stella’s bare pussy again. I barely hear the word “shit” pass my lips.

  How many times have I done a tat for a girl down there? Fifty, one hundred, two hundred times? I don’t know, but what I do know is that none of them had any lasting effect on me. Why is it different with her?

  I only had a few brief glimpses. However, the ones that I got left an imprint on my mind like a livestock’s branding. Sweet contours of flesh reaching a crescendo made up of a little mound void of any hair. The edge of her body appeared to vanish in-between her legs. It is the beginning of a slit that splits her sweet spot in two halves, heralding the promise of so much pleasure. I groan when I try to imagine my tongue pressed against her clit, my fingers inside of her, probing and flicking. I can taste her exactly.

  My eyes snap open. My gaze slips a fraction. My racing mind induces me to remove my jeans and free my cock that, like a raging beast, is rock-hard in my hands. I look up. The expression on my face in the mirror is feral. I start flicking my palm up and down my length, thinking of her tits that jutted against her top. I think of her pussy again, the pink cavern I can only imagine, and the perfection of her groin area that I know exists.

  Shit, I’m already leaking precum. It’s been weeks since I’ve had release, whether by beating off or with a woman. I shudder as my hand gets more urgent. Instinctively, I lean forward and hold myself against the counter with my left hand, while with my right, I beat on my dick.

  Images of her face flitter in front of my eyes like little fata morganas. I see Stella angry, her nose and forehead crinkling, and her full lips pressed together. I see her laughing, her mouth wide open, a brief glimpse of her pink tongue and teeth flashing at me. I see her wincing in pain, her body juddering, her legs snapping shut, the muscles on her abdomen contracting and her face is determined and so fucking—

  “Gorgeous . . . Stella you’re so fucking hot,” I blurt. I can imagine her running her tongue over her moist lips. I picture her using it to lick the seam of my dick, and it urges me to stroke myself faster. Images of her sex float before me, like a ripe peach, all juicy and sweet. Her taste fills my mouth as I press my teeth together and study my reflection in the mirror once again.

  It’s just the way I’d look if I were fucking her right now. I imagine myself on top of her, with my dick buried deep in her sweet spot. I’d rip her clothing off her body and suck her hardened nipples until she begged me to stop. I want to feel the weight of those tits in my hands, the tightness of her pussy as it swallows my dick whole and the brushing of her breath as she moans into my face with pleasure.

  Fuck, I bet she’d feel so good—her mouth, her pussy, and her tits. I want it all. I want to feel and see her falling apart on my cock when she comes. I promise myself that she’s a screamer when she climaxes. I can hear her calling out my name as if it were some religious incantation.

  Beads of sweat have started to form on my forehead. I look like a wild animal in the throes of the hunt. A savage grimace has taken over my features, turning me into something else. My dick is rock hard. My pumping is relentless as my mind creates sight, smell, and touch.

  My eyebrows arch up. I look surprised, as if what is about to happen is so novel and unexpected that it warrants the expression I give it. Next to mine, I can imagine her face. She, too, looks savage. I picture her and the sounds she would make when she melts on my dick. It induces me to greater urgency. I wish it were her giving me this pleasure. She’s the hottest thing I have ever seen, and the way I’m beating my dick to her memory bears testament to the fact.

  My spine tingles and my balls draw up. “Oh, shit, Stella.” I call out her name as I shoot my load onto the cold stone next to the sink. I cum violently, squirt after squirt erupting from my body, releasing weeks of pent-up lust and heady ideas of an unexpected encounter with a gorgeous woman. I gasp as my balls touch the cold stone while I slowly lower myself with the last spurt. The sensation is quite pleasant once I get used to the icy temperature. It is cooling me off after the heat of orgasm, just as though they were hot coals needing to cool down after heating the hearth.

  I look at the result of my exertions with a wane smile. I breathe in deeply and make an effort to clean up the gooey mess with a cloth I grab from one of the drawers. I absentmindedly brush my teeth and do whatever else it is I do when I prepare for bed. By the time I slip into it, I vow the next time I cum, it’ll be inside her pretty pussy. I just don’t know how I’m going to convince her that all we need from each other is a casual affair, with no strings attached and lots of fucking.

  14

  Stella

  “Just a little over to the left, Stella. Yeah, yeah, very good.” The man’s deep drawl with the hint of a French accent serenades above the sound of the crashing waves in the background.

  It’s been over a week since my encounter with Zac, and I still haven’t had the courage to see him or go back for some aftercare advice, but I laugh at the notion of going back there for more advice on my tat. It has healed phenomenally well and is a sexy addition to my body. I frown as if I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. It’s still too soon to have the moon tattooed down there and I can’t really have one in full view—my dad would kill me. Maybe having one on my ass isn’t a bad idea.

  “That’s perfect, Stella. Oh my God, you’re a natural. Hold the pose, hold the pose.”

  I absentmindedly shift my weight onto my other foot and press my ass out a little. A flurry of clicks follows this, and then a gush of more praise from the photographer. I spin away and look back over my shoulder with an impish expression etched onto my features.

  “Great, absolutely great, Stella. Don’t move a muscle.”

  All it takes is a brief thought of Zac’s incredible torso, and I’m all primed and thinking of sex. A flush brushes over my cheeks when I think of the bulge in his jeans the other week, back at the tattoo parlor. I imagine that Zac must have a huge cock. I remember how sexy he was when he dealt with the two guys Crystal and I had picked up at the Petit Versailles. Damn, that guy is just what I need.

  “Stella, very good.” The photographer, Serge, says. “I need some sand on your backside. We have to create the Santa Monica feel, okay, Stella?”

  I nod. �
�Sure, Serge.” I spend a second thinking that my ass would be covered in sand if I were out here with Zac one early morning with nobody out and about.

  “Do you want me to get wet?” I ask, as I eye the crashing of the Pacific Ocean behind me with longing in my eyes. I’d love to go for a swim right now. The heat of the early summer is felt at ten in the morning, and all the activity and thinking of Zac has gotten me hot.

  Serge shakes his head. “I don’t need you wet all over. Just some sand on your ass will do it nicely. You there!” Serge points to one of the make-up artists who just lit up a cigarette. “I don’t want you smoking here. How are you going to help Stella get her look right with a fucking cigarette hanging out of your mouth?” he reprimands her, before he turns back to me. “See what I get to work with?” Serge busies himself with his camera while he curses in French.

  I can’t help myself from laughing, Seeing Serge get agitated so easily. I have been working with him for quite a while now. Originally from Paris, he’s an ace with the camera. He knows exactly how to catch the light and use it to his advantage. Currently, we’re working on my private portfolio. I need a few more sexy shots for a pitch to one of the major swimwear producers. Getting them as a client would be an awesome break for my career. However, the competition is huge.

  “Okay, okay, we can continue.” Serge moves about again. He appears like someone who has a swarm of bees stuck in his underwear. Once my ass and thighs are covered in sand and the make-up artist has worked his magic, Serge is clicking away like a crazy man. “You’re glowing, Stella. If I wouldn’t know any better, I would say you’re in love.”

  What did he just say? I had just been thinking about Zac again. Every day and every night, the irritating and irresistibly hot tattoo artist has consumed my thoughts. I can’t get him out of my head.

  Crystal calls it an infatuation because I had him working in-between my legs. It’s a bit like Stockholm syndrome, when a hostage develops a psychological alliance for her captive. In my case, I’ve developed a psychological dependence on Zac because he was so close to me, in one of the most erotic ways any man has ever been close to me in my life. At least, that’s what she’d told me, on more than one occasion.

  “Yes, yes, Stella. You have a new man in your life.” Serge flits about like a hummingbird. “Tell him to stay for as long as possible. He’s working miracles on your looks.” Serge comes in really close for a shot. “There’s nothing like a woman in love. They are the most magnificent creatures.”

  When my obvious embarrassment finally leaves my face, I tell Serge that there’s nobody new. He doesn’t believe a word I’m telling him, of course, but I insist. “Serge, it’s nothing, I swear.”

  “If there is something to say about nothing, then there is something. Look at you. You are glowing like a virgin walking through the Gardens of Lucullus.” Serge wags a finger at me and smiles knowingly. “This one is definitely not like your ex. I’m guessing he’s a real dude.”

  “Oh, Serge. You’re impossible,” I say with a laugh. “I just can’t stop thinking about this tattoo artist. . . .”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Serge is on me like a summer storm, to the point where the photoshoot comes to an abrupt end. Recognizing Serge’s way, his assistants begin collecting all the stuff without being asked.

  “A tattoo artist, huh? Artists are incredibly sexy, Stella. Did he give you a tattoo? You didn’t think you’d be able to hide it from Serge, did you?”

  He has me giggling again. I raise my hands in defeat. “I may have a small tat.” I take a step back when I see Serge trying to will me with his eyes to I show him where it is. “No way, Serge. The spot is way too intimate for me to even show it to my gay photographer.”

  “I gathered that.” He winks at me. “I’ve been taking shots of you half-naked all morning and there’s no tattoo in sight. I’m guessing you’ve got it nicely tucked away under those bikini panties.” He points at the spot.

  I nod.

  “What’s got me thinking though, is how you managed not to squirm when an irresistibly hot tattoo artist was working between your legs. The moment must’ve been so sexy.”

  “It was.”

  “Yeah, artists are generally so good with their hands. You must have been so—”

  “Serge, that’s enough.” Now he’s going too far. I’m not going to discuss how wet I was with a guy, even if he is gay. “Alright, Serge. I gotta go. Lunch with my dad and I still need to get changed.”

  “Okay, You have a good time. And see you next week.”

  “Thanks. Will do.” I give him two pecks to the cheeks and turn to walk away.

  15

  Zacchary

  “Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead.”

  I groan and open my eyes a crack. Another roar erupts past my lips.

  “This is like something out of a National Geographic TV show. Let’s call it ‘the waking of the hippopotamus in the Nile Delta’. Come on, dad. Holly’s made pancakes with lots of bacon and syrup.”

  “Don’t these new house rules of ours include the dad’s private space?” I croak.

  Azure’s laugh is infectious. “Of course not, dad. I have indefinite access to your private room in this house.”

  “That’s unfair.” I slowly sit up. That was definitely not enough sleep. I look at my little girl, but I correct myself on the spot. She’s not little anymore. Like me, she’s got dark hair that’s almost black. Fortunately, she’s not as rugged as me. At least she inherited some good attributes from her mother. Her eyes, like her mother’s, are a dark brown instead of my blue.

  “Life’s unfair, dad. That’s what you always tell me.” Azure moved around my bedroom as if she was my mom. She opened the curtains, letting in the sunlight. “And besides, I need constant access to your room.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Now you got me.” I get up and yawn like a bellowing bull. “And why would that be?”

  “Because first, I want to know who you bring here when I’m asleep.”

  I grin at my daughter. “I don’t bring anybody here when you’re asleep.” I take a few steps and turn to look my girl in the eyes. “And second?”

  “The elderly need constant supervision in case they have a seizure or something.” The expression on my daughter’s face is serious.

  “You’ve got to be joking. I’m barely forty. Thirty-eight to be exact.”

  “Exactly, dad. By the time a man hits forty, the chances for a stroke or something nasty like that go up.”

  “I see . . . so, I better enjoy the bacon and pancakes while I still can. Soon, you will be controlling my diet as well.” Laughing, I walk into my bathroom and see her follow.

  “Why do guys always leave such a mess, dad?”

  I look around my bathroom, which I find to be very tidy. “If you call this a mess then what about your room?” My daughter exasperates me sometimes.

  “Organized chaos, dad. True genius is seeded in the unknown.” Azure rolls her eyes at me, insolent as always. “Have you ever heard of any form of creativity coming from too much organization? And besides, if your desk or room are too tidy, you’re just too lazy to look for stuff.” She heads for the door, not looking at me as she calls over her shoulder, “Hurry up, dad. I have to be at school soon.”

  Ten minutes later, I walk into my kitchen that is a flurry of activity. I spend a second to digest the scene playing out before me. Even though I have seen it many times since moving into this house, it never ceases to amaze me.

  “Hi, Zac. Sleep well?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Kimran,” I say to Holly’s daughter and Azure’s best friend.

  “Morning, Zac.”

  “Morning, Holly. Something sure smells good.” I walk up to where Holly is standing and grab a few rashers of bacon off the stack.

  “Hey, can’t you wait until we’re all sitting down?”

  “Nope,” I say, stuffing my face with bacon. I groan with pleasure. It’s just what I need, some salt and grease to get me going. I
walk up to the coffee maker and pour myself a generous mug. I add cream and sugar, and sit down at the head of the table. The girls are already busy chatting about something I have no clue of. All I hear is a string of guys’ names and nothing more.

  “Here you go, Zac. Just the way you like it.”

  “Wow, thanks, Holly. This looks fantastic,” I say and I mean it. Like a starving man, I dig into the stack of pancakes doused in maple syrup. A short moment later, Holly places the plate with the bacon next to me. I can’t resist picking another few rashers from the stack.

  “So, got any plans for the weekend?”

  I grunt something inaudible. I’m so busy eating that I don’t notice the inquisitive looks coming from Azure and Kimran. My daughter kicks me under the table. “What?” I look at the clock on the oven, thinking that she wants me to hurry. “Hey, we’ve still got another ten minutes until we have to go.”

  “Dad, Holly asked you what you’re doing this weekend.”

  I look up with my mouth half-full. “Uh-huh.”

  Azure rolls her eyes and looks at Holly apologetically. “Well?”

  “Oh, nothing much. I guess I’ll tinker around in the garage a bit.” I shovel another full fork into my mouth and start to chew happily. Grunting, I nod my approval at the great taste of the food.

  “You could take Holly out to the movies or something?”

  I guffaw. “Azure, I very much doubt Holly and I share the same taste in movies.” I shrug my shoulders. “And besides, I bet Holly has far better things to do with her free time than spend it with me. Come on, she’s here three times a week and we do this a lot, too.” I point at the breakfast table and after I’ve drained my mug of coffee, I get up. “Let’s get you two to school.”

  16