by Amy Brent
“Let's face it, she was a bitch,” I said flatly. “You were way too good for her.”
Julian looked surprised by my language, but it brought out an adorable and surprised fit of laughter out of him. I knew that he often still thought of me as a child. I could see that in the paternal smile he flashed me – which was about the infuriating equivalent of a pat on the head. He still saw me as the bratty teenager who would always pick on him and say outlandish things. In truth, though I did tease him a lot, I was simply trying to hide the fact that I was flirting heavily with him. He had to have known I crushed on him hard as a teenaged girl, right? As I looked back on it, on my past behavior, I knew that it would have been obvious to a blind man.
If he did realize it back then, he obviously didn't seem to think that those feelings would remain as I grew into a woman. The truth of the matter was that not only did those feelings remain, they grew stronger over the years. Or maybe he just wasn't picking up my signals because he still thought of me as a child.
“If you don't mind,” he said, licking those scrumptious lips, “I think I'm going to put my clothes away and change into something more casual. No need to wear my business clothes around here, right? Unless your dad is requiring shirts and ties at the dinner table?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No, feel free to wear whatever you want, Julian,” he looked at me with an inscrutable expression. “Oh, I'm sorry. I can call you that, right? I just thought that since we're both adults and all...”
I was giving him yet another perhaps not so subtle signal that I wasn't a little girl anymore. But again, surprise – and little more – crossed his face as he looked at me. Rather than picking up on my cues though, he instead just seemed utterly stunned that I wasn't calling him Mr. Pierce like I had for my whole life. But I just felt like we were both adults now and I might as well address him by his first name – the name I'd be calling out when he fucked me.
“Uhh sure, I don't mind,” he said softly. “Of course.”
“Good,” I said.
I continued to stand in the doorway, hoping he'd finally take the hint as I let my eyes wander up and down over his body, quite obviously, undressing him with my eyes. I'd hoped he would take the hint and realize that my parents were not home – that except for Rosa – we had the entire house to ourselves, so if he'd harbored any secret little sex fantasies about me all these years, now would be the time to act on them.
I licked my lips somewhat suggestively. “I hope we can be on friendlier and more – adult – terms. Now that I'm all grown up, that is.”
“All grown up,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “It's hard to believe that sometimes. Most of the time, I still think of you as that little girl who used to tease me relentlessly. But then I look at you – ”
“Yes?” I said, standing at attention.
He was finally recognizing me, recognizing that I wasn't a little girl anymore. He'd admitted to looking at me and seeing something different – so what did he think? He looked me up and down, but only briefly before looking away, his cheeks a bright shade of red.
“Just that you're all grown up, Sabrina,” he mumbled. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I said, grinning at him.
“Now if you don't mind, I'd really like to get settled in before dinner.”
Right. Of course he did. I couldn't expect everything to happen right away, not this fast. It would have been nice and the throbbing between my legs told me that I'd been hoping it would happen, but the pragmatic part of me knew that it might take a little time. He was only just now coming around to admitting that he saw me as a woman rather than the young girl he'd known. The rest would take a little time to come together. But it would come together. And I would have this man deep inside of me.
“Okay then, but let me know if there's anything you need. Anything at all,” I said. “My room is right next door, as you know.”
I stepped out and closed the door behind me with a smile, a flutter in my heart, and a pair of panties that were absolutely soaked.
I was one step closer to getting what I'd wanted for so long. He wasn't even going to know what hit him. But oh, would he enjoy it. As I would.
Chapter Two
JULIAN
Sabrina was acting strangely, I thought to myself as I unpacked my bags and arranged my clothing in the closet and dresser. I hadn't seen much of her in a little while. She'd been off at college for a few years, of course, only coming back for holidays. But the time had gone by so fast. Years had gone by in what seemed like the blink of an eye. I supposed it was true that the older you got, the faster time seemed to go. After all, it seemed like only yesterday that we'd celebrated her sixteenth birthday – and back then, that had felt like a big ordeal.
But now, she was an adult. An actual, honest-to-goodness grown woman. And she looked like one too. Gone were her pigtails and braces and typical teenage attitude. That had all been replaced with long, flowing locks of hair, perfectly straight teeth behind a gorgeous smile, and a cultured and refined manner.
Dave must be proud, I thought. Dave was her dad – my best friend. Old college buddies. I literally remember the day Sabrina was born. Although, truth be told, those days were a blur for me. While Dave was getting his life together and started doing something productive, I was still partying away and wasting time. I didn't get married until much later and had no children. Now I was divorced, so not having any children was actually a blessing. Considering Beth was going after everything she could get her hands on, I breathed a big sigh of relief over the fact that we didn't have children together. That would only have served to give her more leverage than she already had. Or at least, thought she had. My lawyers were going to go to town on her. If she was lucky, she'd end up with a modest alimony payment. If she was lucky.
Sabrina was right – she was a bitch.
I smiled and shook my head as I looked at some family pictures on the wall of the bedroom and the memories came flooding back to me. Sabrina had always a challenging child. A little too bright for her own good. Or rather, a little too bright for our own good. She was a clever, precocious girl, that one. Which is why it didn't surprise me that she'd graduated suma cum laude from UCLA. Just like her dad. Following in his footsteps – which wasn't a bad thing. Not at all.
I unpacked my bags, filling the drawers with my clothing as I waited for Dave and Miranda to get home. Yes, perhaps getting my house remodeled, all at once like this, had been a huge undertaking. Maybe too big all at one time. But it had been built with Beth's tastes in mind, and as we were no longer together – well – out with the old, in with the new. Meaning, I'd finally have a home that felt like my own. In a few weeks, that was. Hopefully, the contractors wouldn't take any longer than their estimate called for. The last thing I wanted to do was impose on Dave and Miranda any more than I already was.
I stopped pacing the room and tried to listen for voices coming from downstairs, but heard none. I changed from my business suit into a pair of black slacks and a light blue polo shirt – something casual without being too casual. I didn't feel comfortable enough to throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to wander around their house.
Once I was finished changing, I opened up the door and listened, trying to see if Dave and his wife were home yet – or if I was still home alone with Sabrina. If I were being honest, I would have to say that I didn't feel entirely comfortable walking around the house with her there. Especially given how odd she'd been acting since I showed up. I was no fool. I knew she still had a crush on me – even after all these years. But now, she didn't even try to hide the flirting or sexual suggestiveness in any way, shape, or form. She'd been pretty blatant about it. It was all I could do to pretend to not catch her signals. But honestly, I would have had to have been a corpse to not pick up on the heavy suggestions she was throwing my way.
When she was younger, it was cute. She was a young girl with a crush on an older guy. It was a scenario played out a million
different ways across the world. Nothing new under the sun about that. But as she grew older, it just started to feel – weird. As she began to blossom into womanhood, her flirting turned a little more serious and earnest. I'd deflected it then – and I'd deflected it now. No matter what, she was still the daughter of my best friend. A girl I'd known since she had pigtails and braces. She was a kid – and I was an old man.
And now that she was an attractive young woman – a young lady of legal age, intent on getting me into bed – there was a big part of me that didn't trust myself around her. I was, after all, a newly divorced, warm-blooded man with needs and desires. And she was a curvy, attractive young woman who was literally throwing herself at me. I would be lying if I said there hadn't been a fantasy or two floating around my mind about bending her over my desk and fucking her good and hard. I'd be lying if I said that there hadn't been a time or two I hadn't jerked off thinking about having those big, beautiful eyes looking up at me as those soft lips were wrapped around my cock.
Which was why it was better to keep my distance, lest I do something stupid. Something that I'd regret. And something that would most assuredly, impact my relationship with Dave.
I didn't hear her at first as I was busy peering down the steps, hoping Dave and Miranda had come home, but I turned when I heard Sabrina's soft footsteps on the floor behind me. She moved like a cat, that one. I hadn't heard her step out of her room. Dammit.
“Dad just called,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Said they're almost home now. Should be here any moment.”
“Thanks, Sabrina,” I said.
My eyes fell upon her lips, which were a soft pink and oh so plump and felt the familiar stirrings below my belt. The last thing I wanted was to get hard standing in front of her. She had her mother's perfect cupid's bow pout. She could have easily followed in her mother's footsteps and tried her hand at modeling. But instead, she'd gone to college and had gotten her degree. Wanted to do something different and something with a little more substance with her life, she'd once said. Smart girl, that one.
She was curvier than the last time I'd seen her – which only added to her appeal. She'd never been a stick thin girl, but she'd always been blessed with a womanly body. And now that she was older, it was even more pronounced and more – alluring.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus on something else. The last time I'd seen her – yes, when had that been? Christmas, almost a year ago? But I couldn't keep my mind from straying and cataloging the changes I could see in her. Her hips were fuller, her breasts were larger – and yes, I mentally kicked myself for thinking of my best friend's daughter's breasts. But how could I stop it? I was a man – she was a gorgeous woman.
I tried to tear my focus away again, think of something else, but it was too late and I felt a bulge growing in my slacks. As soon as I realized I was looking and felt myself getting stiffer because of it, I tore my gaze away, turned, and walked down the stairs. Sabrina, of course, fell into step beside me. It was almost as if she knew she was having this effect on me and was enjoying herself. Enjoying teasing me, flirting with me – enjoying the fact that I was quite obviously noticing the beautiful woman she'd grown into.
“How's work these days? Dad said you recently expanded into France?” she said, her tone light and conversational.
“Uhh, yes. We have a few hotels over there now too – mostly in Paris for now, but we're looking at other sites around the country.”
“That's fantastic,” she said. “Have you ever considered expanding into the Asian markets? My understanding is that they are very easy to work with and actually provide incentives for Western companies to set up shop over there.”
“It's something we're considering, actually,” I said. “But we're leary of expanding too fast. We want to be deliberate and smart about it.”
She nodded as if she understood. Perhaps she did. “That's probably a good idea,” she said. “Make sure the brand takes hold before growing it too much.”
It was surprising to have such a grown up conversation with her – which again, reminded me that she wasn't a child anymore. She was a woman. A very smart woman.
“I'd love to visit Paris again someday soon,” she said. “I haven't gone since our family trip a few years ago. I think I was too young to fully appreciate it back then, but now that I'm an adult, I really need to see it for myself. Really need to immerse myself in the culture and absorb it all, don't you think?”
We'd reached the bottom of the stairs by that point, and as we stood in the foyer, I heard her parents at the door. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked for anything to hide the bulge in my pants – the last thing I wanted was for Dave or Miranda to see me standing next to their daughter with a raging hard on. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Sabrina looking and a smirk painted upon her face. She'd noticed. God dammit, she noticed.
Hopefully her parents didn't. I would have to deal with the fact that Sabrina knew she'd given me a hard on later. Hopefully, it would be one of those things that was just never talked about and allowed to die.
“We don't need a new painting in the dining room, Miranda,” Dave said, arguing with his wife as they stepped inside. “The one we have is just fine. Besides, if we got the painting, you'd want to remodel again and – ”
“What's wrong with that?” Miranda pouted. “Don't you think it's about time to freshen things up a little bit? I read somewhere that rearranging and remodeling your home every now and then helps stave off boredom and even Alzheimer's.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “Oh, dear God,” he moaned.
Their eyes fell on me as they stepped inside, and Miranda looked exceptionally pleased with my presence. Her smile was wide and genuine.
“Here, let's ask your friend,” she beamed. “Julian, do you think it's too soon to redecorate the dining room?”
“Uhh, what's it been? Two years?” I asked.
“Three,” she said.
I looked at Dave, then back at Miranda.
“Come on, you're remodeling your entire house,” she said. “Surely you're on my side on this?”
“I'm not on anybody's side here, Miranda,” I said with a laugh, stroking my chin. “I don't see a reason to meddle in your relationship. Or your redecorating plans.”
“It's not meddling if you agree with me,” she said with a wink.
Staring at Miranda Evans-Prescott, I was struck again by the fact that her daughter was a spitting image of her – except about twenty years younger. Miranda was at one time a high fashion model. She often used to grace the runways of Milan and other fashion hotspots across Europe. But then David Prescott, CEO of his own software company – empire, really – managed to sweep her off her feet. Not long after that, she had given up modeling and pursued other artistic endeavors. Apparently, her latest passion was for home décor and remodeling.
Miranda’s long, dark hair was currently pulled back in a high, tight bun on her head, and she was wearing bright red lipstick that showed off that perfect pout. The same pout her daughter inherited.
And there I was – thinking about Sabrina again.
Dave and Miranda were now walking away from me, still playfully bickering about the painting and redecorating the dining room, leaving Sabrina and I alone in the foyer. Sabrina was grinning at me and shaking her head. My eyes fell from her eyes down to her cleavage, which was peeking out from her low-cut dress.
“Those two,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully.
“Huh?” I said, totally getting lost in the sight before me and forgetting about anything else.
Sabrina pointed toward the living room, where her parents had retreated. I mentally slapped myself. I couldn't be thinking about Sabrina like that. Especially not with Dave and Miranda in the house. Not ever, really. I had to stop it. Had to get my mind off of Sabrina and what a knockout she'd become. It wasn't just inappropriate, it was – wrong. Wrong on so many levels, in so many ways.
“Oh yeah,” I said,
feigning a laugh as I scratched my head, doing everything in my power not to look at Sabrina. “We know your dad will give in. He can never say no to your mother. I think that's why she stays with him.”
“Of course,” she laughed while winking at me. “We Prescott women always get what we want. Eventually.”
With that little quip, she retreated, following her parents, swishing her hips as she walked – quite a bit more than necessary. But it was a glorious sight, I had to admit. She knew I was watching and she put on a show for me.
I was doomed.
Chapter Three
SABRINA
That night, I heard Julian moving around after everyone else had gone to bed. Well, everybody but me. I was awake, lying in bed, touching myself and thinking about the first time Julian and I would make love. It was a foregone conclusion in my mind. When I heard his bedroom door open, I held my breath and waited, hoping he'd come to my room for a quiet midnight tryst.
But I exhaled and felt disappointed as his footsteps retreated and went downstairs instead.
I was wearing nothing but a tiny little nightgown that clung to my curves. It covered just enough to not get me in trouble with my parents if they saw me walking around in it – but it barely covered the necessary bits. It fit more like a t-shirt than a standalone nightgown. I thought I looked hot in it.
And it was all the better for what I was about to do, too.
I was feeling a bit emboldened. After seeing Julian standing there with a very obvious hard on, looking every bit the awkward teenager, I was feeling powerful. I was feeling in control. I knew that I needed to take the bull by the horns if I was going to get the satisfaction I wanted.
As quietly as I could, I climbed out of bed, opened the door, and listened in the hallway. My dad was snoring away and the light was off in their room down the hall, which meant mom was no longer up reading. With them sound asleep, I walked quietly down the stairs and found Julian standing at the fridge, getting himself a glass of water. I was behind him and he hadn't heard me yet, so to avoid scaring him – and draw any unwanted attention – I spoke softly. Barely above a whisper, but loud enough that I knew he'd hear me.
