The Single Dad Arrangement

by Wylder, Penny

I lie there watching him type, my heart in my throat. Why is he affecting me like this? Normally sexting doesn’t get me all hot and bothered. And normally I don’t care what guys think about the sexy pics I send—if they don’t like it, then it’s their loss. On to the next guy.

  This time, for some reason, I want to know. No, more than that. I can’t wait. I practically hold my breath until his reply appears, quick enough that I know he’s as invested in this as I am, at least.

  Believe me, I’ve thought of nothing else all morning. I want to be where that dress is, right between your thighs. I want to lick you, taste you, savor your sweet scent as I listen to you moan and scream my name again and again…

  I swallow hard, my heart racing. But I type out a reply all the same. Not fair. Last time you stopped me before I could really have my fill of you.

  Thirsty, aren’t we? This time I’ll let you swallow, dirty girl. As long as you behave.

  I remember the way his cock felt in my mouth, the way he gripped my hair when he started to lose control, and fucked my face with abandon, nearly making me gag—but I loved the sensation, the knowledge that he was losing his grip because of me. I want to drive him wild like that again. Still… And if I don’t behave?

  Well, then I’d have to think about spanking that perfect little ass of yours.

  I shiver in anticipation. Damn, you do know how to give a girl hard choices.

  Only fair, after you left me so rock hard this morning I had to fist myself in the shower thinking about you.

  My hand inches between my legs. I can already feel myself growing wet at the mental image of him naked in the shower, the water pouring over that sculpted body of his as he wraps a fist around his thick cock, thinking about me as he strokes himself. What did you picture in this shower of yours?

  I pictured you pinned against the wall beside me. Soapy and naked with those long legs of yours wrapped around my waist. And then I pictured how I’d lift you up, hold you there as I pushed my cock inside your tight little pussy again.

  My hand reaches my mound, slides over it to my pussy, and I find myself already wet, just from reading his words. I stroke a finger along my slit, imagining it’s his hand touching me, his thick fingers parting my pussy lips the way he did when he stroked me last night. I shut my eyes, and I can almost smell his scent again, taste the salty musk flavor of his skin on my lips.

  Are you touching yourself now, thinking of me? His message comes a moment later, and I catch my breath at how well he knows the effect he has, even without my saying a word.

  Yes, I type out with my wrong hand, slowly, as I slide my index finger into my pussy.

  Keep doing it, he says, and even over text I can practically hear the command in his voice. Another message arrives an instant later. Use two fingers.

  I add a second finger to my pussy and gasp faintly, feeling myself tighten around the two digits. I am, I reply, though typing is getting harder, as I start to stroke myself faster, sliding my fingers in and out.

  Three, he answers, after a few seconds, enough time for me to start to build up a rhythm. I slide a third finger into myself, as he says. I don’t even bother replying. He seems to know I don’t have the concentration for it. A few moments pass, and I’m just rolling back on the bed to adjust and give myself a better position when my phone lights up once more.

  Fuck yourself faster, Tilly. Picture my cock inside you, where your fingers are now.

  I obey. I shut my eyes and imagine it’s him inside me, filling me, stretching my walls as he lifts my hips and drives into me again and again. I thrust my fingers into my pussy, back and forth, easily, since I’m soaking wet now. After a few moments, I lower my thumb to press gently against my clit with each thrust. Before long, I’m at the brink, gasping.

  I want you to come for me, Tilly. I just manage to glance at my phone, read his words, before the climax hits.

  I cry out as the orgasm sweeps through me, making my pussy contract around my fingers and a pleasant, tingling warmth shoot through my whole body. When I pull my hand out, I sink back against the bed, my fingers soaked, my body feeling warm and buzzing. But despite the orgasm, despite the image in my head of Killian on top of me, it still doesn’t compare to the real thing.

  I want him.

  No. I need to have him again. I roll over to watch the little typing icon on my screen, and wait with my breath held, my heart still racing from that climax, until he responds once more.

  I need to see you tonight.

  I swear it’s like this man can read my mind sometimes. Yes, I reply.

  Are you working? Can I pick you up?

  I hesitate, biting my lower lip. All at once, reality slaps back into place. Fuck. Working. Yes. I’m supposed to be working—right now in fact. I glance at the clock on my phone and fling myself off the bed, cursing. I race into my bathroom and quickly wash up, then sprint back into my bedroom to tug on my dress, one eye on the clock over the door the whole time. I was doing so well—I had a few minutes to kill. Now there’s no way I’m not going to be late to the event I’m supposed to be running.

  Shit shit shit. This is what I get for letting myself get distracted by Killian. My boss just told me this morning that she was pleased with me, and planning to help me out with my book stuff, and this is how I thank her? By blowing off my job to sext with the guy I met yesterday—the guy I met while working for her on a gig?

  Dammit.

  I finish lacing up my dress, then grab my car keys and stuff them into my purse, barely glancing in the mirror. I’ll have to apply my makeup in the car.

  Only then, as I’m about to sprint out the door, do I remember the last message on my phone. Can I pick you up? he asked. It’s still sitting there, waiting on Read, for me to reply.

  I swallow hard and take a deep breath. But somehow, even with my impending lateness and the trouble I’m going to be in if my boss gets wind of my being tardy, I can’t bring myself to stop the way my heart races, or the way my stomach clenches in anticipation of seeing him again.

  Yes, I answer, and then, without another word, figuring we can plan more later, I stuff my phone into my purse and race out the door.

  7

  Killian

  I pull up to the address Tilly gave me right on time, at 7:30 that evening.

  To be honest, it took all my self-restraint not to show up early, I was so eager to see her again. All day long, she’s been stuck in my mind. I see her sprawled across the bed last night, those long, sexy legs of hers parted to let me stroke that tight little perfect pink pussy of hers. I want to be inside her again, to feel her tighten around me, gasp in pleasure as I fuck her…

  But more than that. I want to get to know her, too.

  So here I am, in a suit and tie, outside her house, with a sitter taking care of Lina at home while I wait for Tilly to come outside.

  And soon she does, the little door of her apartment building opening to frame her in the light for a second. I just have long enough to glimpse the pretty, pale pink dress she’s wearing, with her blonde hair piled up on her head, and then the door shuts, leaving her yard dark as she crosses to the pavement.

  She opens my car door and climbs in, and I get a better view now. She looks amazing, and her dress clings just the right amount in all the right places. But it’s the bright, open smile she flashes my way that really catches my eye. “Killian,” she says, and her voice is a purr, every bit as sexy and sweet as I remember.

  I lean across to catch her in a soft, slow kiss, unable to help myself. Her lips part under mine, submitting, and she tastes as incredible as she smells. When we part, I grin at her. “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Thanks for planning a surprise. I just hope I dressed right for whatever this mysterious date is.” Then her cheeks flush a little, going pink. “I mean, if this is a—”

  “It’s a date,” I cut her off, still smiling as I start the car. “I hope you like seafood.”

  She arches a brow
at me. “I do. Why’s that?”

  But I just shake my head, grinning. “You’ll find out.”

  She leans back in her seat to watch me drive. “Do you like keeping secrets, Killian?”

  I laugh. “Only the good kind. I’d call them surprises, not so much secrets.”

  She smirks and settles in to her seat. “We’ll find out.”

  We banter back and forth as I pull onto the highway. But when we reach the downtown area, and I pull up to the skyscraper district, she falls silent, scanning the buildings around us. And when I pull into the lot outside the Marquee, arguably the best restaurant in the city, her eyes go wide.

  “Am I underdressed?” she whispers as a valet steps out to open her door.

  I reach across the seat to tuck one finger under her chin, tilting her face to mine for another quick kiss before we climb out of the car. “Don’t be silly. You look absolutely gorgeous.”

  She blushes, but at least she seems to believe me, and her worry dissipates as she follows me into the elevator up to the restaurant. “I’ve heard people talk about this place,” she murmurs as the elevator heads upwards—all the way up to the very top of the highest building in town. “But I never thought about actually coming here.”

  The doors open, and her breath catches.

  My smile widens. “I’ve only been here once before,” I say. “But after taking in that view alone, I knew I’d need to come back.”

  She arches a brow. “Is this where you take all your ladies to show off?”

  “Yes, actually,” I reply, but when her face falls, as we walk toward our table, I loop her arm through mine and lean in close to whisper. “I brought Lina here to celebrate her first day of kindergarten.”

  Her face flushes, and she can’t quite hide the relief on her face as she laughs and lowers her eyes. “Ah, of course.”

  “I have to admit though,” I say, “Last time our menu options were limited. We stuck to the kids’ options. All delicious, but I hope the adult menus live up to them.”

  “Well, if it’s terrible, you’ll just have to find some way to make it up to me later,” she says with a wink, and my veins go hot at the suggestion in her voice.

  Later… Oh yes, I have some ideas for what I want to do to her later. But I just raise one eyebrow, a playful smirk on my mouth. “Depends how well you behave, remember?”

  Now her cheeks really turn red. But, “Promises, promises,” is all she replies with a wink and a slight shake of her head. Then the waiter arrives to take our orders, and for a few moments, the heat in the air fades.

  Which is good. Because if I keep thinking too hard about what I want to do later tonight, it’s going to cause problems as we sit in the middle of this fancy restaurant. I cross my legs anyway, just as a precaution, and lean on one elbow as I watch her scan the menu and place her order. After the waiter leaves, she glances up at me with another of those fleeting, shy smiles of hers. They drive me wild.

  “Tell me about yourself, Tilly,” I say.

  She presses her lips together for a moment, then lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “What do you want to know?”

  Everything, I think. “Whatever you want to share,” I say aloud.

  She clears her throat and meets my eye. “Well. You know what I do for a living already.”

  I smile. “Did you always want to be a princess when you grew up?” I joke.

  She laughs, then shakes her head, and a faraway look comes over her face. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my job. The kids especially. But what I really want to do is write children’s books.”

  “Picture books?” I ask.

  She nods. “But it’s really hard to break into that world, because you need to pair with an artist to even be considered by publishers, and I haven’t met the right artist who I really click with, who wants to tell the same stories I do.”

  “What kind of stories are those?” I rest my chin in my hand, unable to look away from her, even when the waiter returns to pour our drinks.

  “Adventure stories mostly,” she replies. “Stories that show little girls—and little boys—that they can grow up to be whoever they want to be. And that they don’t have to follow what everyone else is doing. They can march to the beat of their own drum, you know? Decide their own fate.”

  I smile. “Sounds like the best kind of book.” I lean back in my chair and lift an eyebrow. “You’ll have to let me read one sometime. I can share it with Lina.”

  Her throat tightens with a swallow, but her smile widens. “Really? You’d want to read one?”

  “Of course. I’m interested in getting to know you, Tilly. What better way to do that than by reading the work you create from the heart?”

  “What about you?” She tilts her head, considering me. “What’s your heart’s desire?”

  “Well, you already know the most important thing in my life. My daughter Lina,” I add, and her smile softens. “I’m a single father, so she takes up a lot of my spare time. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I cherish every minute I get with her.”

  “Is her mother in the picture at all?” Tilly manages to keep her voice even, but I sense the hesitation on her face, the slight pull of a frown at the corners of her mouth.

  I sigh, thinking about her. “She gets Lina every other weekend. I won priority custody, after the divorce. There were…” I hesitate, not sure how best to explain this without violating my primary rule about the woman I used to be married to—I don’t like to criticize her unless I really need to explain what happened. Talking about our shitty ending does nothing to change it, and it only serves to piss me off all over again when I think about how much pain she caused Lina in the process. I clear my throat. “Things didn’t end well. But I make sure Lina has the best possible life, now.”

  Tilly nods, concern written all over her face. But she doesn’t press me for details, and I’m grateful for that. “Lina’s lucky. Sounds like she’s got a really great dad.” Tilly flashes a slight grin, then. “But, I might be biased.”

  I smile. “Well, you seem a good judge of it. She warmed up to you so fast—normally Lina is shy as all get out when she first meets a new person.”

  “I’ve got a way with kids,” Tilly replies.

  “I noticed. Is that why you want to write for them?”

  She nods eagerly. “I love inspiring kids one-on-one. So I figured, what better way to reach so many more kids at once than I ever could talking to them each in person? That, and I just love telling stories.”

  “Tell me one, then,” I say, and she laughs.

  “What, now?”

  “Sure.” I shrug one shoulder. “Tell me a story about you. Something real.”

  She pauses for a moment, tapping on her chin. Just then, the waiter reappears with our meals, and we take a moment to pick at our plates. We both groan in appreciation for the food, and she closes her eyes with a happy smile. Finally, after a few bites have gone down easy, she clears her throat. “Okay, I’ve got one. When I was sixteen, my parents moved from the country to the city. I’d never even visited a city before that—I grew up in the country, with about twenty people in my class and cows for neighbors.”

  I laugh. “So how did that move go?”

  “Well, my first night in the big city, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I stayed up all night, because the noises never stopped—car horns, people yelling, buses passing. Finally I tiptoed out into the living room, and I found my mom sitting at the kitchen table, also wide awake. I asked her what she was doing, and she said she was acclimating, like a fish.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “A fish?”

  She smiles. “We used to grow trout to sell, out on our old farm. Aquaponics rig. Anyway, the way you get a fish to adjust to a new tank is, you put it into a bag full of water from its old tank, and put that bag into the new water. First it adjusts to the temperature. Then you let in a little new water, let it mix with the fish’s old water until it adjusts to that. And then, finally, you plunge it into the t
ank for real. By then, it’s had time to adjust to the little changes one at a time, and the big overall change doesn’t shock its system.”

  “So you were a country fish in a big city tank?”

  She nods. “I sat up with my mom that night, just absorbing the sounds. Getting used to them, letting them into my head. Not letting them bother me. By the time we dozed off together on the couch at 6am, I hardly even noticed the sirens in the distance. And the next night, I went to sleep right off the bat. Same as every night since.”

  “Your mom sounds like a smart woman.”

  “She is.” Tilly shifts in her seat, slides a little closer to me. “And I’ve been a city girl at heart ever since. Even after my parents moved back to the country, I stayed here.”

  “No regrets about losing that quiet life?” I tilt my head.

  She shakes hers. “Once you get used to the noise of the city, it’s hard to go back to the quiet.” She nods her head toward the window. I glance over at the view, stretching across the whole skyline. With a couple stars winking overhead and the city lights scattered across the ground, it looks beautiful. “Besides, I’d miss all the excuses you get to dress up here.”

  I grin, my eyes dipping to take in her outfit once more. It might be pink, like her princess dress, but it’s a muted shade, one that matches her skin tone perfectly. And this dress, unlike her gown, hugs every inch of her curves. It also dips just low enough to reveal a few inches of her cleavage, which only serves to remind me just how perfectly shaped her breasts are underneath it. Between that and her curvy hips, her slender legs crossed below them… “I have to admit,” I say, my gaze lingering on those legs. Her dress hem has slipped up a few inches, revealing a long, smooth line of her thigh. “I’m glad you don’t do the puffy tulle sparkle dresses all the time. This one suits you far better.” I reach over to brush the outside of her leg with my fingertip.

  She shivers and leans closer to me. “Don’t worry.” She arches a brow, as though reading my mind. “I might have to wear a silly outfit for my job, but I am a… very…” With that, she shifts her chair closer to mine, and slides a hand onto my knee. “Mature woman.” Her hand creeps higher. Comes to rest against my crotch, and she squeezes just hard enough to feel the outline of my cock through the fabric of my pants.