by Kira Blakely
My adult reasoning means little to this five-year-old newfound horror junkie, whose imagination makes things real to her. “You were so scary,” she sniffles, burrowing deeper against my chest, bowing her head onto my shoulder. “And there was nowhere I could go. There was no one to help me.”
My chest aches. She’s been so destabilized by the divorce. They both have. Damn it, it’s obvious. I wish there had been any way to protect them from it all. I press a kiss to the crown of her head and keep swaying her.
“I’m so sorry, sweet pea,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can say. Life is a mess. That’s the problem. “It was just a dream, honey. There are no zombies. Mom and I are both fine. We love you, and we are here to take care of you.”
“Are you sure you can’t turn into a zombie?” Madison asks, wide-eyed and genuine. I almost grin.
“Yes, baby, I’m sure. Zombies aren’t real. I’m going to lay you down and tell you a nice story about something that is real.”
“Spiders?” she asks as I settle her onto her Owl Girl mattress set.
“Even better. Ducks,” I reply.
“Hey, Lucas.” The husky voice that haunts my dreams is floating to me from my daughter’s doorway, and I twist to look at the woman to which it belongs.
Damn. Maggie’s hair is loose and wild, her face washed and her gray eyes tired yet warm. She’s already stripped off her smart casual outfit from Thanksgiving dinner and now wears dark green, satin boxers and a matching button-down shirt. Simple, casual, and yet incredibly sexy. I’m starting to think I’d follow her to the gates of Hell.
I never should have hired her. Cats don’t hire mice. Mice don’t hire cheese. I’m going to get myself sued for harassment.
“I’m going to head to bed,” Maggie announces. “I just wanted to say goodnight. So, goodnight.”
“Night,” I say, one hand still on Madison, silently begging for Maggie to wait up for me. Maddy will be asleep any minute. Her pink eyelids, all rubbery and bloated from crying, keep drifting together and apart, together and apart.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Maggie whispers. The glow in her eyes is conspiratorial. Happy Thanksgiving.
I swallow. This is a good thing. Some space to catch your breath. To straighten your thoughts. Remember the kids. Astrid. Graytech. You can’t try to juggle Maggie with all of that. You’re not the college playboy you used to be. You’re a dad now.
“You, too,” I force myself to say. I let her go, and the doorway darkens again. Her bedroom door closes across the hall. “OK.” I sigh deeply and try to coax my brain back into working order. Maggie always temporarily fries my neurons. “What were we talking about?”
“Ducks,” Madison pipes sleepily. I’m shocked she responded at all.
“Right, right. Once upon a time, there was a duck who forgot to fly south for the winter. The leaves on the trees changed and the little duck was scared. But a goose—from Canada—came to visit her pond and he said that there was a place where the leaves never changed…”
I work Madison slowly into a vivid dream about a duck trying to find California. Her eyelashes droop and settle together at long last, her slim neck relaxing and her breath deepening. For a few more minutes, I sit in the darkness and watch her, longing for a simpler life that I’m just not able to give her. Wishing that I could insulate her from all the pain, the things a five-year-old can’t hope to understand. Real nightmares.
I finally stand and creep through the dark, quiet room and into the dark, quiet hall. I’m not sure how long it’s been since Maggie told me goodnight, but there is no light filtering from beneath her door. I grimace, and then lightly shake myself. What the hell are you grimacing for? This is a good thing. Boundaries are a good thing.
I push into my own lonely room and flick on the light, reminded of the duck all alone, longing for the stability of California. Maybe I was projecting a little bit.
I can’t sleep, because the phone will be ringing nonstop once Black Friday officially begins. I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Maggie is on the other side of that bathroom, stretched out in dark green satin. Breathing with such calm, such peace. I bet that satin is so smooth.
My dick twitches awake at the thought of smearing my hand against the crotch of her satin boxers, crushing it between my fingers and then ripping it away. Yes. Yes.
Graytech! Your mind needs to be on Graytech.
After GLOWORM.exe ravaged our latest app, thousands of customer phones were eternally bricked, and dozens of firewall coders got fired. Our stock only leveled out yesterday. We’re all praying that Black Friday might be our savior, releasing several new programs just in time for the Christmas season.
My cell vibrates at 12:03 and I check the screen: Rachel, my secretary in CA. I swipe to the right and lift my phone to my ear. “Be good news,” I command.
“Sorry,” Rachel’s bright, mousy voice titters. “It’s great news.”
My eyebrows perk. “Great news,” I repeat.
“You did watch the stocks today?”
“Not yet.”
“What are you, in the hospital or something?” Rachel asks with strong judgment in her tone.
“I pay you to relay the stocks to me,” I remind her.
“Well, they were up at the close before Thanksgiving,” she shrieks, unable to contain herself in spite of my surly tone. “I guess people want to buy low because they still trust us, and everyone snapped up before Thanksgiving. Black Friday starts tomorrow. It’s going to get even better. No one wants to miss out on this rate. We’re going to regain our old levels, at least. At least, Mr. Gray!”
I thank Rachel for the call and hang up. More calls will come in. It never ends.
Through the wall, a soft, familiar sound bleeds: a moan.
I jerk toward it. My entire demeanor changes, like a hound finding the scent of his rabbit. I tense and freeze and listen. It was so light, perhaps I was mistaken. But it was also the only sound in the house at that moment.
There it is again. “Oh,” Maggie’s voice sings in the darkness, too soft to wake the kids but loud enough to prick my ears. Is she masturbating? “Oh, Lucas.”
Blood rushes immediately down into my dick. She’s calling my name. Is she awake? I have to know. She sounds awake. She sounds like she needs me. Like she really needs me.
I push through the adjoining bathroom and into her bedroom, which is not locked. My heart squeezes. Did she want this? Is she waiting for me? My cock throbs with an intense curiosity that Maggie needs to answer. God, I bet she’s waiting for me, the vixen. I bet she’s wide awake, legs spread, pumping her clit underneath those satin boxers. Mice should never hire cheese.
Here comes Daddy.
But the room is dark and quiet when I cross the threshold. The only sound is her measured breathing. One bare leg has flung the blankets off it, creamy curves highlighted even in the darkness. She’s fast asleep. I gulp.
Is there a tiny devil settling on my shoulder?
Maggie’s full lips pout out, and she writhes on the bed, as if someone is right between her legs. The blanket slips further up the thigh of her exposed leg. Now the quilt is wedged between her thighs, bound there. “Mm,” she murmurs. Her ass gently rolls back against the mattress, pressing into it. She grinds into the blankets. “Lucas.”
I’m so hard that it’s painful. My pants go completely taut.
She needs me. I must go to her. I climb onto the bed and tug her blankets aside, moving quietly and slowly, not wanting to startle her. She’s like a wild animal in a glade. I want to coax her over.
It’s the smell that draws me to nestle down between her stretched thighs.
I can smell her through the satin. She’s musky and sweet, a perfect pussy, like a pastry fresh from the oven. I nip at her through the fabric and she bucks, arching her back.
That’s all I need. Blood charges through my system like this is a triathlon. I peel her boxers down and she whimpers, spre
ading her legs again as soon as they’re free. Her naked gash gleams in front of me.
I lap at her clit and she gasps, grinding down toward me without waking up. Her eyes are still closed, anyway.
Oh, this cunt. I have to have it. And she wants to give it to me.
I suck on her pink pearl until her thighs shake, and her body gives up that orgasm for me. Because she’s asleep, her muscles flutter, racked in their relaxed state. Her abdomen flutters. Her thighs quiver. I check her again to see if the full tsunami of that orgasm might have dragged her out of her dreams. Even though her breath is ragged and her nipples are taut and her pussy is soaked, she’s still fast asleep. Damn. I want her to wake up. I need to be inside her.
I flick open the top three buttons on her satin top, tugging the material to the side to reveal her sweet nipple. I lower my head and take it into my mouth, sucking hungrily, content to work her body until she finally wakes up enough to take my dick. She’ll be quivering for it and not even understand why, clawing for me in a fog of half-sleep, and I’ll plunge deep into her. I’ll fucking oblige. I just want to hear her say the word. I want to see her eyes glaring into mine.
I sink two fingers into her pussy and then hear the worst sound in the world: someone knocking at my bedroom door.
“Hey, man,” James’s voice hisses from the hallway. I can barely hear him. He was asleep downstairs. Can he hear us? Why is he knocking at my bedroom door at this hour? “I need to talk to you. Now. It’s important.”
Chapter 15
Sofia
My eyes don’t open while he’s tonguing my clit. They don’t even open when I’m the one coming my brains out. I shake with the most fantastic orgasm of my life, but I still don’t open my eyes until the broad tip of his cock is skating up and down my strip, like he’s doing everything in his power to wake me up.
That sensation is too much. I open my eyes, at last. Lucas lingers above me, balanced on one palm, his other hand guiding his cock against my opening.
Someone knocks at Lucas’s bedroom door, but he just shakes his head down at me, refusing to even acknowledge it. I open my mouth to say something, maybe ask what the hell he’s doing in here or who is knocking, but he flattens his palm over my mouth, and I’m clapped shut.
Footsteps fade, down the hallway and then down the stairwell.
Even though Lucas isn’t inside me, he watches me closely and lets his head feel my cunt, sliding over it, toying with it. His muscles go taut as he leans down and whispers against my ear, “Maggie.”
“Sofia,” I choke, still half-asleep, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth. It grates against me to hear him call my sister’s name. I want to hear him call mine. It’s dangerous to tell him my real name, even like this, late at night, naked in bed, but I can’t help it. I need to hear it. “Call me Sofia.”
“Sofia,” Lucas growls, and my pussy flexes hungrily. I love how my name sounds rumbling out of his throat. I want him to tear me open with his teeth. His full girth strokes into me and I contort, overloaded by the sensations spiraling through my body. “Sofia.”
“Yes,” I groan just as quietly, bucking against him. I’m already soaking wet, throbbing for him. My pussy walls suck at him every time he slides out of me.
“Shh.” Lucas presses his palm over my mouth again and slams into me, the base of his cock tagging my clit every time he comes in.
I whimper and roll my hips in rhythm with his, driving us closer to the ledge. I don’t even know how he ended up in my bed, and I don’t care. I want to feel his body on mine, his mouth on my throat, his cum in my pussy. One more time.
“Come with me, Sofia,” he rasps against my ear, thrusting into me with a new jerk to his hips. His fullness grows. He’s about to pop. Fireworks go off in my belly, and my thighs curl tight over him. “Come with me.”
He rears up from me, thumbs digging against my hips, slamming into me so hard, and I can’t take any more. He’s too deep and he’s too big. When he comes, my pussy quivers out an orgasm around his cock, stimulated by the sheer size and depth and the heat of his cum driving inside me. He’s not even thrusting. I come because he’s coming.
“Good girl,” Lucas whispers, slipping out of me, leaving me warm and wet and empty between my legs. His middle and index finger toy playfully over my swollen clit, even though he’s getting off the bed now. “James wanted to talk to me, but I knew it was a better idea to just keep quiet and stay in bed with you. Graytech stock is on the rise again.”
“Don’t stop,” I whimper, and Lucas hesitates. His fingers toggle harder, faster, driving me quickly toward the brink. There’s a sharp, demanding explosion in my core and I clamp my lips shut, shuddering and trembling beneath him.
“You never have to tell me not to stop,” he whispers down to me. “I’ll never stop. Goodnight, Maggie.”
Lucas slips from the warmth of my bed, and I swallow down the urge to beg him to stay and sleep with me. But we can’t do that. We’ve been good people, and we deserve some breaks in life, but no one is going to give us a regular domestic relationship any time soon.
Lucas creeps out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving me to curl up and drip for the rest of the night.
I’m still not on the pill. He remembers that, right? I did tell him that.
I’m relieved he called me Maggie, at least. Maybe he’ll forget all about my mention of the name Sofia. Maybe he’ll assume that it was just some little sex game I like to play. I can’t believe that I told him to call me Sofia.
I had the perfect hideout, and now I’m ruining it. Fucking the boss. Begging him to call me by my real name. It’s only a matter of time, yet I can’t summon one morsel of regret.
Chapter 16
Lucas
I’m mired in video conferences until after ten, when I can finally venture down to the kitchen for the possibility of cold, leftover breakfast.
James sits at the island in the kitchen, staring ruthlessly down into a mug of coffee. Maggie is in there, too, fishing two juice boxes from the fridge. She glances over her shoulder and sees me first, freezing at the sight. She wears a puffy white skirt and charcoal tights with a lace sweater, girlish and sophisticated at the same time. Off-beat. Herself.
A light kindles in Maggie’s gray eyes, and the corner of her lip twitches up into an instinctive smile.
“Hey,” she greets me, sounding almost wistful and breathless. She had better relax with that eye contact and that voice, or everyone is going to figure out what we’re doing. Hell, the look on her face is so transparent, I don’t think it’d even slip past Madison.
“Hello,” I say, trying to sound as normal as possible. “Any leftover breakfast for the likes of me?”
“No, but I could whip you up some eggs really quick, toast, juice, sausage?” Maggie rattles off. “I was just about to take the kids on a little hike.”
“In the woods?”
“God, no,” Maggie says. “Just around the property. Plenty enough trees here. No need to drag them out into public or anything.”
James furrows his brow intently, almost glaring at Maggie. She doesn’t notice, still beaming expectantly up at me, holding her juice boxes.
“So? A quickie?” she invites, then blushes and laughs. “I mean, a quick, hot meal. Excuse me.”
“That’s all right, I don’t want to keep the kids waiting on you,” I say. My eyes keep moving over to James, examining him more closely. He looks like shit. Did he sleep at all last night? Was he drinking or what?
Fuck, that’s right, he came to my room and needed to talk. And I was too busy tongue-fucking the sleeping nanny to say a word. After it was over, I went right to bed. It was late.
“Are you sure? It would—”
“I can make my own breakfast,” I snap, not meaning to, but snapping nonetheless.
“Right on,” Maggie breathes, scurrying around me with her juice boxes. Charlie and Madison must already be outside, because Maggie strides through the fo
yer and snatches her jacket from its hook without saying a word. I can feel her insecurity, her uncertainty, and after last night, I can’t blame her. The sex wasn’t tender or intimate. It was raw. Desperate. Half crazy.
I open my mouth to tell her bye—maybe even call her Sofia—but the door slams too fast.
James’s glower turns on me. Maybe it’s not just her. Maybe he’s mad at both of us.
Holy fuck, does he know?
Were we too loud last night?
“Bro,” James says, somber. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Let me put on a pot of coffee,” I say, racking my brain. What you heard was the television, I could tell him. I was just innocently watching a little porn. It’s the holidays, I’m a divorcee. Give me a break.
I fill the Keurig with water. “It’s about the nanny,” he adds.
My back stiffens. Fuck. “Look, James.” I sigh and close the coffee pod in the Keurig. Press the little button. I hate this thing, but what I really hate is this conversation. I turn toward James, eyes dark and level, prepared to fight if I need to. If he does know about me and Maggie, I will make sure that the words don’t leave this room. “Look, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
“You knew about it?” James bellows.
I bulge my eyes at him threateningly, then pause. Knew about what? That I was having sex with her?
“How could I not know?” I ask.
“I thought you would never let something dangerous come under this roof, honestly.” James’s eyes are hard on me. “You should be worried about the kids.”
The words are like a harpoon in my chest. Fuck, he’s right.
Behind me, the Keurig gurgles and coffee comes streaming down into my mug. Neither of us glance away from each other.
“I know, all right?” I snap. “I couldn’t help it. It’s—it’s been a long time, and you’ve seen her. She’s perfect. And she’s not just gorgeous, man. She’s smart. But soft. Surprisingly soft.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” James clears his throat. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”
