DADDY CRUSH
A. Anders
Copyright © 2020 by Adriana Anderson
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Mercurial Forte. www.mercurialforte.com
Image used under license from Shutterstock.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Created with Vellum
To the Diva Squad. Miss you bitches.
Contents
1. Just One Kiss
2. Temptation
3. Get off
4. In between days
5. Come out and play
6. Mysterious ways
7. Blister in the Sun
8. How do you want it?
9. Just like Heaven
10. Come as you are
11. Don’t speak
12. Scenario
13. Hey Daddy
14. Can't stop
15. Just can't get enough
16. So you think you're in love
17. Heaven knows I'm miserable now
18. So what’cha want
19. Until she comes
20. Are you gonna go my way
21. How soon is now?
22. She's lost control
23. Let's go to bed
24. About a girl
25. Float on
Epilogue
Excerpt from UNCHARTED
Acknowledgments
Also by Adriana Anders
About Adriana Anders
1
Just One Kiss
Jerusha
I’m about to have my first kiss and I feel absolutely nothing. No excitement, no flutters, not even a glimmer of curiosity.
It’s me. I’m sure of it, after more than a dozen dates. My fault, my problem. Me.
I twist out of my date’s clammy hold and step away, putting my back to my front door. “Um, Jed, I think maybe—”
There’s no time to avoid his swoop. My mouth’s still open when we collide in a messy mix of teeth (mine) and tongue (his). I don’t even think before shoving him off.
“Yuck!” I swipe a sleeve over the mess he’s made of my face.
“You didn’t like that?”
“I don’t think I’m ready for—”
“What? Come on. Just a kiss.”
“Seriously, I’m not—”
“Hey. I walked you home. At least invite me in.” He pauses for a second before going on. “Come on, babe. Let me in. We’ll see where this—”
“She said no.” The low, rough voice comes out of nowhere and I can tell it frightens my date. Relief floods me to the tips of my extremities.
“Excuse me?” Jed turns to peer into the dark.
Quick, decisive footsteps scuff down a set of wooden stairs, over a few feet of sidewalk, then up onto my porch. It’s Karl, my neighbor. Like every other time I’ve seen him, something flops around in my belly, heavy and hot. So maybe it’s not all me. Maybe I’ve been dating the wrong guys.
Maybe I should date Karl.
“Take off.” Karl’s tone leaves no room for argument.
“What?”
“She doesn’t want to invite you in. She doesn’t want you to touch her. Get out of here.”
My date’s chest puffs out before he fully takes my neighbor in. I can tell the second he realizes just how outclassed he is because he deflates, like a balloon. “Whatever, man.”
I know it’s not right, but something dark inside me wishes he wouldn’t back down. I picture Karl’s thick, ink-darkened hands grabbing Jed’s lapels, imagine the way his back muscles would ripple if he threw him out into the street.
Here I go again, thinking ridiculous Karl thoughts at the worst possible moment. It happens every time he shows up. My insides get tense and achy and I want things I’d never thought to wish for. Right now, I’m out of breath, sick to my stomach, and so hot I want to shed my coat.
“Later, babe.” Jed’s clearly not looking for a fight. And that’s fine. It’s good. A fight would be an awful end to the evening. He flicks me a look, lifting his chin in a way that is supposed to be macho, but looks childish.
“Well, no,” I reply. “Not later. I don’t think…”
He’s already gone, crunching down the leaf-strewn street toward the university.
“It’s an expression,” Karl tells me with a smirk. A second later, his lips tighten into a frown and one dark eyebrow lifts. “Unless you want to see him again? You want me to call him back? Did I butt in when I shouldn’t have?”
I shake my head, remembering the feel of Jed’s slobber on my face and the fear that he wouldn’t back down. I should go inside and wash him off, but I can’t go anywhere while Karl’s standing here. “Definitely not. Thank you, Karl.”
“Another bad one, huh?”
“Wasn’t great.” My breath puffs out between us. It’s cold, I notice, though I’m clammy-hot from my proximity to this man.
“You let this one walk you home?”
“I thought…” What did I think, exactly? That it wasn’t too bad? That he wasn’t a total jerk? I can’t tell Karl what’s running through my head because even I, in all my innocence, know that this line of thinking is pathetic: He didn’t gross me out, so I let him walk me home. “I don’t know. I was hopeful, I guess.”
“Prick doesn’t know how to kiss a woman goodnight.” Karl shifts like he’s about to leave and I can’t let that happen. Everything I’ve been looking for in a man is right here. He’s twice my age, fine, but that shouldn’t matter. He’s single—I think—and the way he makes me feel is like nothing I’ve experienced.
“Night, Jerusha.” He turns to go, whistling low for Squid, who slides silently from the shadows of my porch. I’ve never seen a dog quite so quiet as this one. So stealthy, I hadn’t seen him arrive.
“Wait.”
Karl stops and looks at me, far enough out of my porch light’s glow that his eyes are two dark holes in his wide, slavic face. There’s the beginning of a beard on his chin and I tighten my hands into fists to keep myself from touching him there.
“You, um… You do this with all the neighbors?”
“This?” He glances out at the dimly-lit street with its trees and wonky sidewalks and the long line of row houses.
“Late-night front porch interventions.”
He exhales. “You’re the only one, Jerusha.”
My “Oh,” is more breath that voice.
Balanced on the edge of the top porch step, Karl stands like he’s aching to leave, fingers agitated, body vibrating with pent up energy. What would it be like to see him let it all out, instead of holding it in? Colossal, I imagine. Explosive.
“How should he have done it?” I address his antsy silhouette, courageous now that his face is entirely in shadow.
He goes very still, head tilted at a curious angle. “Done it?”
“Kissed me good night.”
“Not like that.”
“But how?” Even in the dark, I can’t keep my eyes from Karl’s lips.
A car approaches, its lights skimming his back before it slows for the stop sign. It’s like that outside presence pushes a button, rele
ases him from his frozen position. He shifts down to the first step, putting a few more inches between us. “You, uh…” I can hear him swallow, the sound loud in the night. Everything’s strangely still, reminding me of a film set. My porch right on the sidewalk, but so enclosed we might as well be inside. “Not something I can explain, you know? There’s just a right and a wrong way and that was definitely the wro—”
“Show me.” The words come bursting out, though I guess the idea’s been there for a while. Maybe since the first time I saw Karl.
“Come again?”
“Show me how you kiss a woman goodnight.”
He shakes his head in this quick little rhythm that I can’t read in the dark. Is he as frantic as I am? Did my request turn his insides to jelly and make him want to turn around and hide? Suddenly, I hate the shadows. I need light to know just how badly I’ve messed things up with my nearest neighbor—the man whose house is literally stuck to mine, whose porch is so close I could climb over the railing and be there.
“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry, Karl. You’re just… I’m just…” I’m hot, face on fire, tears closer to the surface than I’d realized—not in my throat, but right there, burning my sinuses. “I’m a fool.” An absolute fool, to think that the broody, kind, inked-up giant next door would want to show me anything. “I’ll just go inside now and we can pr—”
He mutters something I don’t understand and in two strides, he’s here, above me, around me, his body so much bigger this close. He doesn’t touch me, though. He must not want me to. I don’t move an inch when his head lowers beside mine, putting his mouth to my ear.
“You’ve…” He clears his throat, though it clearly didn’t work given how rough he sounds when he goes on. “Never been kissed?”
“No,” I whisper, keeping every muscle stock still. “Except for tonight, with—”
“Doesn’t count.” His words are warm on the side of my face. He’s radiating heat, this close. I want to touch him, to see if he’s as hot as I am, if his skin burns the way mine does.
“Oh.”
“Put your hands on me.”
After a second’s hesitation, I lift them like a zombie and stall out, hanging in midair. “Where?”
“Where would you like?”
My eyes go to town, flicking all over him. Endless possibilities assail me in a rush—rough face, hard chest, bulky shoulders. Is that short hair as spiky and stiff as it looks or would it give beneath my fingers? My attention lands on his hands. I think about those a lot—and not just in bed when I fantasize them onto my skin, but in class, while working, walking, on the bus. Pretty much all the time.
“Would you… Can I hold your hand?”
The pained noise that rattles deep in his chest tells me that I’ve gone too far.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…” I force a laugh that hurts coming out. “I’ll, um. I should let you go home. Okay, Karl. Good night!”
Karl
“Jerusha.”
She stops trying to get her key in the lock, but doesn’t otherwise move.
“You okay?”
Quick nod. I don’t believe it for a second. Her shoulders are so high and tight she looks ready to fly off.
“Give me your hand.”
After a few excruciating seconds, she turns, head down. I’m waiting for her, palms up. She glances at me, all big, blue eyes and freckles and that soft, soft mouth, and something pings inside my chest, hard.
Slowly, she puts her hands on mine, light as, I don’t know, butterflies landing on flowers or something. They’re weightless, but warm. And just this barely there contact feels good. It’s all I can do not to squeeze her, wrap her up, protect her from the shitty world.
I wait, breath held.
There’s hardly any pressure; just that heat, until she lightly drags her palms back, putting our fingertips together, finally leaving our middle fingers to latch like hooks. It’s the weirdest, softest, sweetest thing I’ve experienced in ages and it’s twisted something in my chest.
I flick a glance up to her face to find it hidden behind a puff of messy brown hair. But I need to see her—confirmation that what I’m doing is okay. Because, hell, she’s got to be a virgin—that’s what the never been kissed thing means. I’m at least a decade older than her. Probably two. She’s little and soft. I might break her.
“Tilt your head back,” I whisper, instead of letting her go like I should. “Let me look at your face.”
Her mouth’s glistening, bottom lip indented for a second as though she’s been biting it and I have to shove back a wave of ridiculous jealousy that I’m not the one doing the biting.
Nobody’s getting bitten tonight. That’s not what this is about. It’s not about me being a horny bastard whose been hungering for my twenty-something virgin neighbor since she moved in six months ago. And she is cute, man. But no. This is about making sure her first kiss isn’t some shitty mauling on her front porch.
One of her hooked fingers tugs at mine. I let her drag me closer, flashing back to the first time I saw her, cleaning this porch, with her long hair and long skirts and long pauses before talking, like she’s thinking things through before letting them out. She smiled that day and I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. I headed off to work, wondering if there was a husband or boyfriend inside.
There’s no reason that exchange should come back—or my response to her. Nothing happened that day beyond a Nice to meet you, neighbor. Well, and that stupid stab of curiosity. Fuck it—envy.
The fact is, there’s something almost magic in the way I respond to her after so many years of feeling nothing.
“Will you do it?”
I blink back down at her face.
“Will you kiss me? Will you show me how it’s done?”
My inner cynic’s laughing his ass off. Where do I get off thinking I know a goddamn thing about women? With a track record like mine, this is the last thing I should be doing. And, yet…
Of all the pricks she’s brought back after what seems like an endless string of dates, not one recognized how precious she is. Not one.
I do. I saw it that first goddamn day.
Guess that’s enough for my conscience to give me the green light.
“Come here.” I lean down, taking care not to touch her any more than I already am. I’m a bruiser. Doesn’t mean I have to break what I touch. I get another flare of guilt at the reality—that I hurt a lot of people in my past life.
Not anymore. Not her.
Her breath’s warm and smells like spices. Her exhales are kind of stuttery and, though it’s ridiculous, especially considering the differences in our ages and sizes and histories, I like that I’ve managed to do that to her. She didn’t seem jittery with that other guy. Just annoyed.
My hands itch to slide into that mass of hair and hold her still, but that’s the last thing this woman needs. I rein that in and brush my nose against hers. Just a touch, but even that changes her breathing and, hell, my own.
I sense her mouth before I touch it—a sweet warmth that I’d dive into if I didn’t have such a tight leash on myself.
And then it’s too much, the denial, the way her breathing’s picked up, the sway of her body toward mine. I let my lips land on hers. The contact practically sizzles.
My cock’s heavy and warm and I haven’t even tasted her yet. But I want to, dammit. I’d gladly trade a week’s worth of food for a chance to get to know every inch of her skin.
Her head tilts, her plush mouth opens, her little tongue touches my lip and I’m gone.
Fuck me, I’m lost.
Jerusha
This is nothing like that other kiss—which wasn’t a kiss. Not even in the same realm.
Funny how I know that now, after less than a second with Karl.
And it’s not just what he’s doing that’s different, it’s him. How he tastes, his smell up close, this presence all around me—overwhelming but not pushy. He’s so tender, so careful, and yet I feel him ev
erywhere—from the frantic flutter in my chest, down through my belly, to where I’m pulsing between my legs.
I open myself further, the way they do in the movies, and lean forward, barely aware that I’m on my tiptoes, giving him more, letting him in.
It takes a second to realize that his tongue isn’t delving inside the way I’ve seen people do. His hands are nowhere on my body.
I force myself away, winding up with my back to my front door. My hands are tingling so hard, they’re almost numb and I’m breathing fast like I’ve just run.
So is he, which is a relief, though nothing in his expression tells me if he liked this or if it was a duty he felt obligated to carry out. At least the breathing hard tells me he’s affected.
I think.
I’m too worked up to be embarrassed, but I feel it there, trying to wind its way inside. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, putting my fingers to my mouth as if to wipe him away, although that’s the last thing I’ll do. Instead, I press the pads to quiet the buzzing his touch left behind.
“Why?”
“For making you…” I swallow, recognizing how callow I’ve been to pressure him into doing this.
His laugh stops me short. “Making me?” He shakes his head and sucks in a long breath, looking off to the side, as if there’s anything to see there but his dark front porch. “I’m twice your size. You couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”
The excitement starts right back up again. “You wanted to do that?”
His attention’s back on me and it’s heavy, intimidating. What would all that physical power feel like if he let himself go, instead of holding back?
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