“I couldn't help myself. But I still need to come, baby. You haven't earned your grade yet.”
Her hips twist and bounce, working me over. I will never get tired of watching her do this. The way her hair sways against her back and her skin flushes pink and glows.
“Lean forward, just a little,” I tell her as I have one hand on her spine, helping her bend. She's so much tighter this way, and I love how it feels rubbing against her pelvic bone. “God, yes.” I take my thumb and stick it into her tiny rosebud.
“One day, we are going to do this same position with my cock in your ass. Would you like that, baby girl?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbles incoherently.
I haven't had her ass this way, and I'm desperate to have her the same way, filling the tightest hole of all.
“I love the way you feel inside of me teach. Your dick feels so good,” she coos, her words stuttering between bounces.
My hands grip her hips hard, and I'm pretty sure I'm leaving fingerprints in my wake. I'm so fucking close. My balls tighten up, and I clench my jaw as I shoot my hot stream of come deep inside of her. She calls my name again, I’m sure feeling my cum fill her, and she unravels.
Her body collapses back on my mine, spent, and I hold her in my arms, never wanting this to end.
In my arms, she's mine. Safe. Protected. Where the outside world can't hurt her. Especially with the shit I've brought on her young life.
“I love you,” I murmur into her ear, before letting her roll off me to land on the bed next to me.
“I love you, too,” she pants, curling into my side.
“Stay tonight,” I ask, running my hand down the soft skin of her back. “Then tomorrow we can go down to the falls for a hike.”
“I can’t,” she says slowly, biting her lip.
“Why?”
“Gini is making me go to this party tonight, so I won't be staying. I'll still come and hang out, but I'll be heading out around six to get ready with her.”
“She's making you go?”
“Yeah. And I haven't been out in a while with my friends. It could be fun. If not, I'll come back here.” She shrugs.
I don’t like the idea of her at some college party without me. I know what college boys are like. I had been one once, and we only thought with our dicks. Then add a beautiful girl with dangerous, sinful curves and legs that go on for miles, and know for a fact she tastes like fucking forbidden fruit. Yeah, there’s a huge fucking problem.
“Will you behave?”
“Behave? Are you my father now?” Her eyes glint mischievously, running her hand up my chest.
My hand comes down on her ass, and I grip her luscious ass cheek harshly in my hand. She moans, tilting her head back, giving me access to her neck to suck. “No, but I am your daddy. And you will listen to me.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She rubs her naked core against my dick, she’s sopping wet...fuck.
I didn't think this through. I want her again, and there isn’t enough time. I’m due at the high school in an hour and a half, and I still need to shower. And I have to get Georgia to school.
Fuck it. We can get dirty and clean in the shower again.
“Get in the shower. Now. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to move without feeling me. And I'll fill you with my cum so deep you'll be choking on it.”
Lola has left for the night, no matter how hard I tried to convince her to stay—with my mouth and my fingers.
But this at least gives me some time with Georgia so we can chat about what's happening with her mother. To be honest, it is something I should've done sooner.
As long as Georgia appeared happy, still smiling, I wanted to believe Peyton had been giving her best to take care of our daughter alone. That the separation was giving Peyton and Georgia the time together to bond because Peyton was being made to take care of her and having to be there for Georgia at all costs.
I let myself be blinded. I wanted to give Peyton the benefit of the doubt that she could be better.
“Hey, Peanut. Can I talk to you?” I pat the seat next to me on the couch.
She clutches her brown and white horse to her chest, looking at me nervously and nods. “What is it, Daddy?”
“It’s about your mom.”
“Oh.” She frowns and fiddles with the locket that Lola gave her last night. “Okay.”
“How is she acting?”
Her little shoulders bounce, and she glances up at me with the saddest eyes. “She doesn’t play with me anymore. Like she used to sit there with me when I asked or at least read to me at night. Now she’s like all spacey and always on her phone, and sometimes I find her talking to herself.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to be mad at her. You told me Mommy was sick a long time ago. I thought maybe she was getting sick again.”
My eyes close, and I know I made a mistake. I should’ve checked on them sooner. I fucking should’ve checked!
“She’s not that bad, but she’s nothing like you or Lola. She doesn’t yell at me or get mad at me,” she adds the last part quickly, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
When Georgia was a baby, Peyton did have bursts of anger towards her. They were erratic, but never violent, just random bouts of yelling. It had been something we finally managed with meds and therapy.
“I think a spaceship has come down and an alien has taken over her body.”
“Yeah? And when do you think this happened?”
She taps her chin and then shrugs. “I don’t know, a little while ago? She used to have this guy that would come over and hang out. She liked him, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to him. I had to go to bed when he came. Then he just stopped coming and she just got sad and spacey. Like Mommy went bye-bye.”
A guy. I kinda figured there might have been someone else. Whether it was before the separation or after. If I'm honest I don't think I cared enough to find out because I had my mind and eyes already set on Lola.
“You know you can tell me anything, kiddo. Especially something like this.” Guilt simmers in my gut, knowing it’s also my fault for not talking to her about all this sooner.
“I’m sorry.” Her chin wobbles, falling to her chest.
“It’s okay. Next time will you let me know?”
“Yeah.”
“Now there’s one more thing I need to ask you. It’s about Lola.”
“Is it about you being in love with her?” She gives me a little lopsided grin, and I chuckle.
“Now what makes you say that?”
“Because you kiss her and you get all silly looking when she walks in the room. Like when Rapunzel and Flynn are on the boat watching the lanterns.”
“Oh, I do, huh?”
“Uh-huh. It’s okay. I love Lola, and I want her around forever.”
“Well, I hopefully will make that happen. One day.” I sigh and run my hand through my hair. “Georgia, there’s just one thing. Have you told your mother about us?”
“No.” She shakes her head so wildly that her blonde hair whips me in the arm.
“You sure? It’s okay if you did. I won’t be mad. I just need to know.” So, maybe I can understand this sudden change in her. It’s about the only thing that makes sense to her wanting back in.
Wanting what she can’t have.
“Uh-huh. I didn’t. I don’t want to make her more sad.”
Sad is not the adjective I would use.
“I understand. I wouldn’t want that either.” I pull her to my lap. “Daddy will tell Mommy when it’s the right time. Now, what do you say me and you watch a movie and stuff our faces with popcorn and ice cream?”
“Yes!” She shoots up from the couch, heading straight for the kitchen, leaving her horse deserted by my side.
After getting my sugar high child to bed, I find myself scrolling through Facebook. It’s not something I do often, but when I do, it’s to catch up on what s
ome old friends are doing. Though there is one beauty I do like to stalk when she’s not around.
I haven't heard from her tonight, which left an odd anxious knot in my stomach. When she isn’t around, she at least calls or sends me teasing texts, but tonight she has been unusually quiet. I’m about to close my app and call it a night and text her myself, when sure enough, as if Lola has been reading my mind, a notification pops up from her.
Lola Anderson has started a live video.
Opening up the live feed, loud music bursts through my speakers. I turn down the volume, but I'm about to snap the phone in half when Lola appears in a tight navy blue dress on the screen dancing with some frat boy. A dress she wasn't wearing when she left. My blood instantly boils at the sight of her and that she would wear something like that—showing off every curve of her sinful body. He’s got his arms wrapped around the front of her stomach as he grinds behind her and sucks on the side of her neck.
Her body molds and melts against his as the obnoxious beat plays on in the background.
My every vein is about to bust, and my head is about to blow from the steaming rage boiling inside of me. I'm uncontrollable.
There's a storm brewing in my mind and its dark. Angry. In disbelief. Lonely. I rub my eyes to make sure what I’m seeing is, in fact, correct. Looking back down at my phone, it’s all I see.
She should have been, could have been here, but instead, she’s all loved up on some frat boy. How could she? After everything I told her about us, about our future, about it being only her. I haven't felt this way in a long while. Not since Peyton started ghosting on me years ago, never showing up when I needed her.
All I want to do is go down to that party, punch the motherfucking asshole in the face for having his hands on my girl. Throw Lola over my shoulder and spank her ass till it's red and purple. Then after that, fuck her raw, till she's screaming my name, reminding her she's mine.
The only thing is, do I still want her to be mine after what she’s done?
I never expected her to do this to me, to us. She’s become my whole world. For fuck’s sake, she was telling my daughter she would never leave her, and here she is making it happen.
But I probably was never supposed to see this.
The video ends, and I'm livid and in need of something strong to drink. It's the only way I know how to keep the beast inside of me at bay. I make my way over to liquor cabinet and quickly down a shot and then a second. I go to pour a third, the beast inside still brewing when there’s a light knock on the front door, followed by someone putting a key in.
What the fuck?
The only people with a key to this house are my parents, Lola and my best friend, Andrew.
The door flings open, revealing my ex-wife.
If I wasn't angry enough already…let's just add this bit of crazy on top of the raging monster.
She walks in as if she owns the place, wrapped in a tight black dress, that barely goes past her ass and her breasts are spilling out of it. In all the years I was married to her, I've never seen her wear something like this. Not even back in college. It wasn't her style, and frankly, I was okay with that. With Peyton, I enjoyed her laid back approach on style because to me, she was beautiful without trying so hard.
Now she’s trying too hard, and it doesn’t do a damn thing for me or my dick. Desperation has never been an attractive trait to me, and Peyton has it written all over her like a glowing neon sign.
She's become so damn unhinged, I worry how rusted her screws are, and wonder if there is any chance for her to tighten her shit back together.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I bellow, marching over to her as she places her things on the counter.
I quickly calm myself, remembering the one good thing that has come from us is upstairs sleeping. She's heard enough of us fighting for a lifetime.
“Relax, Tiger.” She places her hand on my chest, and that's when I smell the alcohol on her breath. “I was sitting at home. Alone. And I was missing you,” she purrs, running her finger down my body. I step back. Her touch burns.
“Peyton. Stop,” I growl from deep in my chest, but she smirks, pissing me off further.
“What? We are two grown adults with needs. I even brought your favorite whiskey to help relax you. I figured you might need it.”
I do. Fuck, do I need it.
But no.
“The only reason I need it is because you’re in my house. I want you to go, Peyton. I've had a hard enough day, and I don't need to deal with you and your shit on top of it.”
She sighs, a deep frown marring her face. “I’m not trying to give you shit, Dean. I’m trying to be polite and friendly, believe it or not. God, do you really hate me that much?”
“It's not that I hate you, Peyton, but I'm trying to live a separate life from you.”
“We shouldn't be living separate lives! I want you back. Can't you see that I'm trying?” she cries, pushing her chest into me. I step back again. The bull inside of me is steaming, seeing all red, ready to mow her down.
“Peyton, all you’re doing now is pushing me away more. This…whatever you’re doing is driving me insane. You’re pushy and annoying. It's not flattering. It makes me want you less. How about that?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” she whines, and tears slip from her eyes. Usually, seeing her this upset would make me feel bad, but I’m tired of this game. This is all an act now. I know it, she knows it. I only wish she would get tired of playing.
“Nothing. You gave up on us years ago. I don't know why you've suddenly changed your mind unless it’s desperation of not wanting to be alone.” Her jaw ticks and I have a feeling I might have hit part of the source. “But it's not enough for us to get back together. You left me alone for almost two years. I no longer want or need you, and frankly, I’m tired of saying it.”
“I'm still your wife for a little bit longer, and I'm doing what I can to make amends. It’s what's right for me, for you, for us. For Georgia.”
“It might be what's right, but it's not what I want. Neither one of us would ever be happy.”
“We can be happy if you would just let us be,” she screeches, the crocodile tears are now gone. “We could be fucking happy!”
She’s officially lost her damn mind if she thinks it’s that simple. She must be off her meds. It has to be what is going on here. If I think about it over the last month there has been like an on and off switch of a different personality. I’ve only seen it once before, years ago in college when she refused to take her meds because she didn’t like the way they made her feel.
She was all over the place emotionally. It wasn’t for long when I persuaded her to get back on them once we figured out what was going on. She became “Peyton” again, and she promised she would never go off them again.
“Have you been taking your meds?”
“Fuck you,” she hisses, and if they could, her eyes might throw fireballs at me.
“I'm going to take that as a no?”
“I have.” She crosses her arms and looks away from me. A sign she’s lying to me. We might not be close anymore, but after ten years together, I still know her tells. “When have you ever known me not too.”
“It's just you’re different and all over the place. One minute you’re trying to be cordial, and now you’re like this.”
“Because I realized that I’m losing my husband. Yes, I should've realized that a long time ago, but I'm seeing it now. Sometimes people need wake up calls, Dean. I had mine. I get it’s late, but we can get therapy. Work out our problems.”
“You’re missing the point, Peyton. You keep missing it. I don't want you. I don't love you anymore. I never took you as this clueless of a person.” I feel as if I need to put this on a recorder or have Siri play it back for her every five minutes till she gets it. “Now I need you to go. The last thing we need is to wake Georgia with our fighting. She hears it enough.”
“I guess it was lucky Lola was here
yesterday then.”
“Yeah, luck.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I felt lucky to have her hours ago, but now it felt like a different story.
“She’s over here a lot.”
“She is Georgia's babysitter.”
“Hmm. It feels like she’s always here. There’s nothing funny going on between you two, is there?”
“No,” I snip harsher than I intend to, but the frat boys’ mouth all over her neck materializes before my eyes throwing gasoline on my already blazing anger.
A sly grin spreads across her face, but then it quickly melts away as she moves across the room. “Very well.” She picks up her purse off the counter.
My head feels like it's about to snap off from her jarring behavior. I can't keep up with her. She steps in front of me and rubs her hand on my shoulder.
“I'll leave you the whiskey. It might help you ease this tension in your shoulders that you had before I even showed up. Believe it or not, I still know you so well, Dean, to know when something is bothering you.”
“Did you drive over here?” I ask, the liquor on her breath hitting me again. “Because you smell like you had few.”
“I did drive. I only had a margarita before I came over. Just one. I needed some liquid courage before slipping into this dress.” She pouts. “And you never told me how nice I looked by the way.”
“Now you really are fucking pushing it.”
“A compliment won't kill you.”
“You look fine,” I grit out between my teeth. “Now, do I need to call you an Uber to make sure you make it home?”
“Or I could curl up in our old bed. Keep you warm,” she purrs, and finally, the last of the string I’ve been holding trying to be reasonable and nice or what the fuck ever to the mother of my child, has snapped.
“Out. Now!” I roar, grabbing her hand, and yank her to the door. “Come talk to me when you’re back to being normal Peyton again. Not this crazy inside out version you’ve become.”
“I'm not crazy!” she storms, shaking out of my grip, her hair going wild.
Perfect Storm Page 6
