I did feel victorious. I just managed to transplant my sleeping niece from the living room couch, where she had drifted off watching a movie about princesses and talking candlesticks, all the way down the hall and to her bed without waking her up. That was no small feat, especially considering the obstacle course of discarded toys scattered over her bedroom floor.
“Well done, Mr. Mom,” Daisy said, glancing up at me as she dropped a stack of dirty plates into the overflowing kitchen sink, topping off the tower of stainless steel pots and pans that were already stacked precariously in a bath of apple dish soap-scented bubbles.
“You’re really good with her, you know. You’re a natural.”
She smiled but she looked conflicted. Like she was still trying to figure me out. Like she was struggling to reconcile how the bad boy could turn into a hero. How the billionaire hotel heir could turn into a doting father figure for his niece. And as much as it pained me, I knew she has a right to wonder.
Daisy turned on the tap and reaches for the dishrag but I stopped her, wrapping my hands around her waist from behind and pressing my body against hers.
“Don’t you dare,” I whispered into her hair, taking in a deep breath of Daisy. She smelled like pastel petals and springtime and the kitchen smelled like homemade spaghetti sauce mixed with the burning lavender soy candle that Daisy lit next to the sink, and altogether it smelled like home.
If someone had told me a month ago that my pristine apartment would be littered with dolls and dirty dishes and Disney movies, I would have balked. Or that the highlight of my week would have been cooking homemade pasta with my niece and her preschool teacher. But now I couldn’t imagine it any other way, now that I had seen so much life fill the walls of my apartment, I couldn’t imagine going back to the cold, silent sterility.
“These dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.”
“Fuck the dishes,” I said, turning off the tap and sliding my hand back around her waist.
She doesn’t melt into my arms. She doesn’t press her body closer to mine. She resisted, she kept her back firm and rigid.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, loosening my grip on her waist.
“Nothing,” she said dismissively, planting her hands on the edge of the countertop.
“Tell me,” I insisted.
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” she bluffed. “Work stuff. I really shouldn’t be here, and I don’t want the headmaster to find out.”
“Don’t lie to me, Daisy.”
She twisted around in my grasp, angling her body so that she was facing me with her chest pressed against mine and her hands were gripping onto my arms, pulling them tighter around her. She was grinding her jaw and I could tell she wanted to say something, but she was holding back.
I felt the hesitation lull in her throat, and could see the conflicted look flash across her eyes. I had a pretty good idea of exactly what was on her mind. She had been flirting with the edge all night; keeping her distance, then allowing herself to get a bit closer, only to pull away again.
“Why did you tell me that I should be afraid of you?” she asked me. Her voice was tiny, but her eyes are intense as they dig deep into mine, looking for an answer.
“I told you that’s a stupid question,” I said softly, reminding her of the answer I gave the last time she asked me.
“You want me to be brave and ask for what I want,” she said, wrinkling her brow into a frown. “Well, I want you to answer that question, whether you think it’s stupid or not. Why should I be afraid of you?”
Her eyes were digging holes into mine and our faces were so close that I could taste the wine on her breath. She was holding my arms around her, locking us together and holding her body close to mine, but somehow she was still resisting, still holding back.
“Why do you think, Daisy?” I asked, my voice a low whisper. I swallowed heavily, because I did not want to ruin this moment with the truth; I did not want to shatter what we have by talking about things we both already knew.
“I think that you’ve spent so much time reading the tabloid headlines that you’ve actually started to believe all of the awful things they write about you,” she said. “I think you’ve convinced yourself that you need to play a part, that you need to be this character that they’ve created.”
“Who is ‘they’?”
“Everyone,” she exhaled. “The press, the tabloids, the women who leach onto you for their fifteen minutes of fame.”
I felt my heart pounding in my chest, vibrating, creating white noise that wrapped around my head and rang through my ears. Why was she making me feel like this? Why were her words cutting through me? Why did I feel like she could see straight inside of me?
“I’m not playing a part, Daisy,” I said, my heart pounding through my voice. “This is just who I am.”
“No, Caleb, it’s not.”
“I’m selfish.”
“I’ve seen you be selfless,” she whispered back, her face inching closer to mine.
“I don’t know how to love.”
“I’ve seen you love.”
“I’ve hurt people, Daisy,” I insisted. My voice was a husky whisper, and our lips are close enough to touch. She tasted the ugliness of my words, but somehow her face didn’t darken in disgust.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she whispered.
“I could.”
“But you haven’t,” she said. She looped her arms tighter around my waist, melting into my chest as the percussion of her heartbeat hammered in sync with mine. Now I was the one struggling to resist as her warmth swelled against me, sending an electric current through my veins and electrifying every nerve in my body.
“You said this wasn’t meaningless.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m good for you”
She tilted her head up, brushing her warm lips against mine.
“It means that we’re in this together,” she said. “It means that I could hurt you, too.”
My heart was throbbing through my cock, dying to feel her, dying to sink into the curves of her body.
“Ask me what I want,” she whispered, her lips brushing mine again, filling my mouth with the warmth of her breath.
“Tell me, Daisy,” I breathed. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you.”
“Daisy...” I tried to resist, but the way her hands felt as they tighten around me makes it impossible.
“I want you to be in control,” she whispered. “I want to trust you. I want to surrender.”
I couldn’t resist her anymore. I fight off her grip, twisting her back around and pressed her chest against the glossy stone countertop. I pulled her hands behind her back, gripping her wrists together with one hand. I snake my free hand beneath her hips, plunging down the front of her pants.
My fingers slipped through the slick, sticky warmth that was dripping from her pussy and I pry her lips apart with my fingertips, finding her engorged clit. I pinched the hood and tug and she gasped, struggling to free her hands from my grip, but I kept them locked together and pinned down firmly in the small of her back.
“Is this what you want?” I hissed into the back of her neck. She squirms under my weight, but her body responded. She spread her legs further apart, letting my hand slip deeper between her silky lips. She pressed her ass against me, grinding against my throbbing cock.
I slid my hand deeper into her soaking wet panties, digging my fingers through her folds until I found her entrance. The tight skin stretched around my finger and she gasped again. Her hands struggle to break free and I tighten my grip around her wrists.
“Trust me,” I said, realizing that the words were a command and a concession all at once. I was demanding her obedience, and I was promising her that I could be trusted. Promising that I would not hurt her, that I was not going anywhere, that this was everything but meaningless. And as soon as the words came out of my mouth, as soon as Daisy’s body went still, I realized that I was relinquishing every
bit of control to Daisy. Just like she had relinquished control to me.
I released my grip on her wrists.
“Take off your pants,” I demanded.
She obeyed, and then I hurriedly stripped off my pants and kicked them aside on the kitchen floor.
Daisy leaned forward on the countertop, propping herself up on her elbows with her back to me, then she spread her legs apart. Without warning she lowered herself onto my bare thigh and I felt the wetness and warmth of her folds press onto my skin, like velvet dripping with hot honey. She rolled her hips, grinding her sex up my thigh until her ass catches the shaft of my cock between her cheeks.
There was no more time to waste. I needed to get inside of her.
I gripped onto her hips, pulling her up onto her tiptoes. Then I spread her pussy apart, revealing her glistening hole, and I thrusted forward until I was all the way inside her.
I reached a hand under her t-shirt and gripped onto her breast through the thin fabric of her bra, squeezing as I plunged my cock in and out.
My other hand shot between her legs, twisting and pinching her clit, responding to the chorus of husky pants and restrained moans coming from her parted lips.
I felt her knees buckle and her walls start contract, tightening around my cock. I pressed us both forward, wedging my arm between her chest and the countertop to support her as her legs give out. Then I spanked her ass with my open palm. The sting sent her over the edge, and she fell forward, her body ripping apart with an orgasm. She dug her teeth into my arm, biting to hold back the cry of ecstasy.
Feeling her body react to mine trigged my own climax. My balls clenched and the muscles in my thighs burned, and then I came, shooting my hot load between her legs filling her.
17
DAISY
“Is everyone holding onto their partner’s hand?” I asked, glancing back at the procession of preschoolers trailing behind me.
Today was our class field trip to the Natural History Museum, and I somehow managed to convince the powers-that-be at Bellamy Day to forego the standard practice of chartering a bus and instead let my class make the short trek across Central Park by foot. My class had made it out of the schoolyard and down Fifth Avenue, then managed to stick together as we followed one of the scenic transverses that cuts through the park.
Now, before we left the serene oasis of the park and stepped back onto a bustling and noisy city street, Central Park West, I quickly scanned my eyes over the line of students to make sure that everyone was still coupled up. I saw thirty pairs of impatient eyes blinking up at me, eager to proceed towards the museum.
I also spotted Emmy standing near the back of the line. When our eyes met she gave me a little wink and a smile. I returned the gesture, then finished surveying the line of students.
“All clear back here!” Raven called from the back of the line, where she was joined by two burly security guards, a mandatory precaution, sanctioned by the school for all field trips and class outings.
“Stay close, and remember to look both ways before you cross the street,” I told my troops. I pushed all thoughts of Caleb and our undefined relationship and the headmaster’s warning out of my head, then I lead us out of the park and across the Central Park West crosswalk.
We were about halfway down the next block and I was just about to glance back again to check on my students, but before I got the chance I heard the familiar sound of Emmy squealing. I immediately twirled around and my eyes dart to Emmy’s spot in the line, but she wasn’t there anymore. There was an empty spot in the line where Emmy was supposed to be. Her partner was standing alone, hand empty, staring to the side.
I jerked my head in the direction that she was staring, and I was immediately relieved when my eyes find Emmy. Her nose is pressed onto the glass window of a small cafe.
“Look!” she squealed, hammering her little fist against the window, “It’s Uncle Caleb!”
I glanced through the window and sure enough, I see Caleb sat directly on the other side of the glass. For a split second, my heart started to hammer in my chest, filling with the usual giddy excitement that I felt anytime I was near Caleb.
That excitement quickly dies when I saw that Caleb is sharing a table at the cafe with a woman. A busty, blonde, beautiful woman.
My mind couldn’t help but race back to all the gossip sites and tabloid stories I found on Google the other day. To the countless pictures of Caleb with blonde actresses and models and professional party girls. I felt my heart stutter in my chest, straining with strange, undefined shock.
Before I could fully process what I was witnessing, Emmy lurched towards the cafe doors, throwing them open and leapt into the restaurant. I glanced back at Raven who, through a look of wide-eyed horror, gave me an affirmative nod to follow Emmy inside.
I thought my heart might burst out of my chest from how hard it was pounding as I pulled open the cafe door and stepped inside.
Emmy had already made it across the cafe to Caleb, and she stood at the edge of his table with her arms wrapped around him in a hug. His eyes flicked up as I shuffled towards the table, and I saw the panic in his face. I wasn’t supposed to be here; we weren’t supposed to be here.
My eyes moved across the table, to his ‘date.’ I could see her better now than I could through the glass. Up close, I saw how the thick paint of her makeup looked garish and greasy, packed into the crevices of her face. I saw the dark brown roots sprouting up like specks of pepper sprinkled through her crunchy head of thin, brittle salon-blonde hair. I saw the strain of her bra, working overtime to hoist her giant fake tits up to her chin.
And somehow, even though she was hideous and fake and oozing with desperation, I felt somehow inadequate. Was this what Caleb wants? Because if it was, well, how could I ever compete? I did not have the caked on makeup, the fake blonde hair, the acrylic nails, the tits. And even though I found her repulsive, I felt suddenly self-conscious in my khaki pants and Bellamy Day sweater.
I was just plain old Daisy Wright. I was just the pre-school teacher from Brooklyn.
“What are you doing here?” Caleb asked Emmy, refusing to meet my eyes.
“We’re on a field trip,” I answered for her. “To the Natural History Museum. We were just walking past, when Emmy spotted you through the window--”
“You can come with us!” Emmy told Caleb joyfully.
“I wish I could,” he said, ruffling Emmy’s hair affectionately. “But I’ve got to work, kiddo.”
“This isn’t where you work!” Emmy frowned. I couldn’t help but feel a stab of loyal pride for the little girl, she had never been shy about calling someone out.
“This is a work meeting,” Caleb explained, then he gestures across the table to his ‘date.’ “Miss Jeffries here is a journalist from the New York Times, and she’s asking me some questions so that she can write an article about me.”
“You must be Emmy!” the woman beamed, stretching her shiny pink lips into a repulsive sneer of a smile. “My name is Jade! Your uncle has been telling me so much about you!”
Jade offered her hand for Emmy to shake, but Emmy just looked at it skeptically and frowned. Then she flung herself towards me, wrapping her arms around my legs and angling her chin up so she blinked at me with her giant, pleading eyes.
“Please make Uncle Caleb come with us,” she whispered loudly up at me.
“Uncle Caleb has to do grown-up stuff right now, Em,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder and hoping that she’d understand. That she wouldn’t feel as crushed as I do. “But you can tell him all about the museum when you go home tonight!”
“Will you be there too?” Emmy asked.
“Well, I…” I stammered, unsure of what to say. My eyes flicked up to Caleb, and I saw his jaw pressed together firmly as his eyes darted between Jade and me.
“Of course not, Emmy,” he said. “You know Miss Wright can’t come home with us.”
“Nuh-uh!” Emmy cried, frowning. “Daisy always come
s over for dinner!”
Jade’s eyes lit up across the table.
“Is Daisy your nanny, Emmy?” she asked, and I had to fight the incredibly strong urge to dump Jade’s sickly pink cocktail down the front of her flashy blouse.
“No,” Emmy shook her head. “She’s Uncle Caleb’s girlfriend.”
It was hard to tell who was more shocked. Caleb, Jade, or me. I immediately felt my face turn hot pink, matching the shade of Jade’s cocktail. Caleb’s eyes went wide and I couldn’t decide whether he looked more flustered or pissed.
“That’s not true, Emmy,” Caleb said sternly. Then he turned to Jade. “Actually, Miss Wright is just Emmy’s pre-school teacher.”
And there it was. The truth.
The ugly, bitter, undeniable truth. Whatever happened between Caleb and I behind closed doors. Whatever fantasy world I had been living in, where we had homemade spaghetti dinners and hot sex after bedtime, it didn’t matter. Because in the real world, I was just the teacher. Nothing more.
I was not usually one to be at a loss for words, but as I stared down at Jade and Caleb, fighting back to the tears that were stinging at my eyes, that was exactly what I was. I was speechless. There was no witty, biting retort on the tip of my tongue. So I grabbed Emmy’s hand and pulled her out of the cafe.
The rest of the class had already moved on. I saw them a block ahead of us, following Raven as she took over leading them to the museum. I reminded myself to thank her for that later.
“Let’s go, Emmy,” I said, softening my grip on her hand and using my free hand to wipe the tears from my eyes, hoping to be subtle.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, squinting up at me. “Why did Uncle Caleb lie?”
“He didn’t lie, Emmy,” I said, as I felt the stab of pain rip through my heart again. That was the kicker, he didn’t lie at all. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
“You are,” Emmy insisted. “Boyfriends and girlfriends love each other.”
Before I could correct her, I heard footsteps slapping on the pavement behind us.
“Daisy, wait,” it was Caleb. He just ran from the restaurant and chased us halfway down the block.
Baby Makes Three: A Brother's Best Friend's Secret Baby Romance Page 23
