by B. B. Hamel
I grin at her. “Because I had my hand over your mouth.”
“And your cock in it.”
I’m hard as fuck and I can tell she’s blushing, but she’s not looking away. I can’t believe how straightforward she’s being, and it’s taking all of my fucking willpower not to do something right now. She’s practically begging for it. Her skin is glistening in the sunlight and I know she’s dripping wet just thinking about what we did last night.
But I have to get myself under control.
“Careful,” I say. “I’m not sure you can handle much more, girl.”
“Maybe,” she says, blushing deeper.
“That little pussy sore this morning?” I ask, trying to push her buttons. “I bet it is. Not used to having a cock like mine.”
“Maybe,” she says, and I can tell it’s working.
“But I don’t think pain bothers you all that much.” I lean in and whisper in her ear. “That’s why you like it when I fuck your little cunt nice and rough. You want me to beat that pussy up until you scream.” I lean back and grin at her.
She’s bright red, and not from the sun. “Maybe that’s true,” is all she can manage to say.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Relax. I’m teasing you.”
“Oh yeah, of course,” she says, smiling at me. I can tell she’s turned on. Her breathing is coming faster and deeper, and I think her nipples are starting to show through her top.
“Last night was good, really good,” I say. “But you know. We have to be—“
“Careful.” She finishes for me. “I understand.”
“Good.” I lean back in the chair, looking out over the pool. “Don’t you have any guys your age?”
She hesitates a second before answering. “Not really,” she admits. “I’ve had boyfriends. But mostly everyone I know went to school and never came back.”
“You could meet someone, if you wanted.”
“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. I’m surprised by how vulnerable she seems, and by how much I want to protect her.
“Sure,” I say. “Plenty of guys would trip over themselves to even talk to you.”
“Maybe. But it’s not like I can go to bars to meet them.”
I smile slightly. “That’s right. You’re underage. I forget how old you are sometimes.”
She gives me a look. “I forget how old you are, too.”
I laugh. “Okay, fair enough.”
“How old are you exactly, anyway?”
“Thirty-nine,” I say.
“Wow. Do you remember when Stonehenge was built?”
“Like it was yesterday.” I grin at her. “Joke all you like, but my age is just a sign of my maturity. I know things you can’t even guess at.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“You got a taste of it last night.”
She blushes again. “I thought we were being careful.”
I shrug. “I can be reckless sometimes.”
“Yeah, well. So can I, but that’s because I’m young.”
I laugh again and push her shoulder slightly, playing around with her. “Okay, look at you with the insults.”
“I got more where that came from.”
“Oh yeah? Try me.”
“You’re so old, Father Time is your brother.”
I grin. “That’s bad.”
She shrugs. “So is your gray hair.”
I laugh and run my fingers through my hair, which is decidedly not graying. “Ouch.”
“See, you can’t keep up, old man.”
“I can definitely keep up.” I lean over toward her, gently pushing my fingers into her side. She starts laughing and squirming, pushing me away.
“Oh my god, you are NOT tickling me!”
“Not tickling,” I confirm. “Torturing.”
She gets up and tries to get away, but I follow her. She doesn’t get far before I wrap my arms around her and grab her, lifting her into the air.
“Get off, you beast!” she says, laughing and squirming.
“This is revenge,” I say, heading toward the pool.
“No!” she says, eyes wide, understanding what I plan on doing. “Don’t!”
“If we go down, we go down together,” I say, and I jump into the deep end with her.
We splash into the water, making a nice wave. I surface, grinning, and she comes up next to me.
“You asshole!” She splashes me with a big grin on her face. “I didn’t want to get my hair wet.”
“You poor thing. You probably thought I was too old to pick you up.”
“I was surprised to see you out of your wheelchair.”
I make a face. “We both know I only need a walker.”
She laughs and swims over to the ladder. I watch her as she climbs out, wringing her hair out, water dripping off her skin.
She looks over her shoulder and catches me looking at her. “Asshole,” she says with a smile on her face. She walks over to her chair, grabs a towel, and wraps it around her body.
“Don’t cover up on my account,” I say, swimming over to the ladder.
“I’m going inside. Have fun drying off out here alone, old man.”
I climb up and out of the pool and catch her wrist before she can walk away. I pull her toward me and press my lips against her ear. “It’s Daddy, not old man,” I whisper before letting her go.
She looks at me for a second, biting her lower lip, and then quickly turns and walks back inside. I watch her go, my cock hard as hell, before sitting back down in my chair in the sun.
Goddamn, that girl drives me wild. I don’t know where all of this comes from, but she makes me feel so free again. It’s like I never got older, never went through all the shit I went through in the SEALs. It’s like I’m an innocent young man again, before growing up and becoming what I am not.
She brings that out in me, and it’s like a fucking gift and a curse. She knows as well as I do what this thing between us means, or at least can mean if we let it. If we keep lowering our guard, something is going to happen between us, and it’s going to be hot and fast.
I don’t know what that thing can mean. The age difference is a serious concern on top of everything else that’s happening.
As I dry off in the sun, I know that I need to take a big step back. As I realize just how much I’m enjoying being around her, I can’t help but see the danger that’s developing right in front of me. If I follow down this path, with everything that’s happening, I’m going to ruin her.
I can take care of myself. I don’t care about that. But I do care about protecting her, and I used to take that role seriously. I’m a guardian, a fucking security guy. I’m supposed to make sure my clients are safe, not put right in the line of fire, which is what I’m doing if I keep pursuing Sydney this way.
I have to step off. And the only way to do that is to distract myself, though I don’t know how, considering I’m stuck in this house with her.
I cross my legs, put my hands behind my head, and close my eyes. I spend the next ten minutes trying not to think about her until I end up falling asleep, my shirt spread out over my chest, the sunlight on my face.
18
Sydney
I keep thinking about that afternoon by the pool with Connor, and I wish I hadn’t gone inside.
I don’t know what might have changed if I stayed out there with him. I don’t know why I decided to go inside and shower off the chlorine and take a nap. I guess I was tired from barely sleeping the night before. And I was a little frustrated by him.
He was right that afternoon. I was sore from him, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want more. I wanted more, and I still do.
Except it’s been a week now, and I’ve barely seen him.
He’s always home. That hasn’t changed. And I’m apparently still expected to stay around the house as well. But he mostly keeps to himself, locked in the back office either lifting weights or doing whatever it is he does in there.
We see each other, of c
ourse, and we talk a little bit. But he’s distant, like he’s purposefully trying to avoid me. Those first few nights I stayed up late, hoping he’d come into my room again, and his distance during the day was just an act.
But he never came. After a few days, I gave up waiting for him, and just went to sleep.
Now it’s been a week, and I don’t even bother anymore. Maybe I’m not sleeping as well as I used to, and I’m staying up a little bit later, but it’s not for him. It’s definitely not for my gorgeous, sexy stepfather. That asshole, that bastard. He gave me a taste and now it’s like I’m nothing to him.
To top it all off, my mother has been basically out of the picture. Connor says she’s just working a lot, but she’s always worked a lot and still found time for me. The two of them still go visit granddad almost every other day, but they never invite me.
I feel left out and left behind even more than I did before. I thought maybe my life was turning around with Connor coming into it, but that didn’t last very long. I feel even worse, twice as rejected, and without even the chance to apply to other jobs or to run away somewhere else. My mother still wants me to stay inside the house, and I know the issue with my uncle is still unresolved.
I toss and turn, tired but not able to sleep. I glance at the clock and it’s one in the morning almost exactly one week since Connor came into my room.
I can still remember that night like it was yesterday. I remember the way he touched me, the way he tasted, the way he took my body. I’ve never experienced something like that before. He was starving for me, like he couldn’t get enough of it, and I felt exactly the same way. I wanted him to consume me, to dominate me.
And he did. He pressed me down into the pillow to stop me from behind too loud and he fucked me with absolutely no mercy, exactly the way I wanted it.
Now my bed is empty and cold, which shouldn’t surprise me. That’s how my life’s been lately.
I roll over onto my side, trying to force myself to sleep. I start counting sheep, just to relax my mind and to concentrate on something else, when suddenly my phone starts to ring.
I sit up, surprised. My phone never rings this late. I grab it and fumble with it, answering without even looking at the name on the screen.
“Hello?” I ask. I’m worried that something happened to Mom or Connor.
Only bad things happen when phone calls come late at night.
“Sydney,” the voice says, but it’s not a voice that I’ve ever heard before.
It’s distorted, deep and robotic, like in the movies and on TV.
“Who is this?” I ask.
“I’m watching your house, Sydney,” the voice says. “Do you know what your parents are doing? Do you, Sydney, you bitch?”
“I don’t know what you want, but don’t call back,” I say, ready to hang up.
“They’re going to die,” the voice says quickly, making me stop. “Your Mom and your fake fucking stepfather. They’re going to die, Sydney, unless you stop them. Make them stop, make that fake sick stepfather go away, or I’ll kill them. And you too. Goodnight.”
The phone suddenly disconnects.
I sit there, staring at the empty screen, horror running through me. I suddenly drop the phone and jump out of bed. I rush to the door, throw it open, and walk down the hall.
Connor’s door is unlocked. I push it open without a second thought and walk right in. He’s sitting up in bed, his lamp on, reading a book. He looks up, surprised, as I come bursting in.
“Connor,” I say. “I just got a call, a really freaking weird call, from this really weird fake voice, and it said that it was going to kill you and Mom and kept saying that you’re fake and sick and—“
“Whoa,” he says. “Slow down, Sydney.” He closes his book and gets out of bed. He’s wearing just a pair of boxer briefs and a white t-shirt. I can’t help but stare at his body for a second, forgetting myself.
“What happened?” he asks, coming toward me.
“I got a phone call,” I say, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“Just now?”
I nod once. “And the voice was fake. Like, a fake deep voice.”
“Okay, so they used a voice changer. What was the number?”
I pause. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t look.”
“Go get your phone.”
I nod and quickly leave the room. I grab my phone and walk back into his room. He has his own phone out when I get back, though he hasn’t put on more clothes.
I pause and look at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice that I’m staring at his body. For the last week, he’s been very careful to avoid me in the hallways when we’re going between the bathroom and our rooms. I could probably use the other bathroom downstairs, but part of me wants to run into him.
Now though, he’s not at all self-conscious. “Let’s see it,” he says.
I unlock my phone and pull up the call. “It’s just private,” I say.
He looks at it, frowning. “Do you think I can have your phone for a few days?”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “No,” I say. “No way. I need that.”
“Come on, Syd. This is important.”
“What do you want with it?”
“The call data is in there somewhere, but it’s encrypted. I know a guy that can get it for us.”
I bite my lip. “Is that legal?”
He grins at me. “Not at all.”
“Fine.” I hand him my phone.
“What did the voice say to you?” He tucks my phone into a drawer next to his bed and for a second, I feel like something vital has been ripped from me.
But that’s such a Millennial feeling, and I quickly banish it. I can survive without my freaking phone.
“He threatened me,” I say. “He threatened to kill you and Mom and me if I don’t make you go away.”
“Make me go away?” He looks at me curiously.
“I don’t know what he meant. But he did call you fake, which keeps sticking in my mind.”
“Fake,” he muses.
“Was this my uncle? Why would he call me?”
“He’s trying to use anything he can against us,” Connor says. “He’s been quiet for the last week. I was wondering when he’d move again.”
“Should I be afraid?” I ask him, stepping closer.
He shakes his head. “No. I promise, you don’t have to be afraid.”
“He sounded serious, Connor. He sounded... terrifying.”
He comes closer to me and puts his hands on my shoulder. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, and that’s the only thing I can imagine wanting in this moment.
“He won’t touch you,” Connor says. “I promise.”
“Connor...” I want his lips, his body, everything again. I was afraid but now that I’m here with him, I’m not afraid anymore.
“What’s going on?” We both look up, startled, as a new voice cuts into our moment.
It’s my mother. She stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, wearing a robe and looking tired. Connor instantly releases my shoulders and I step away from him, angling myself toward my mom.
“Julia,” Connor says. “Sydney got a call—“
“Stop,” she says, holding one hand up. “Sydney, go back to your room.”
“Mom, listen to him. He’s telling the truth. I got a call, threatening me, and I came in here to tell him about it.”
“You should have come to me, then,” she says, eyes flashing anger. “Go back to your room. I want to talk to Connor alone.”
I pause and look at Connor. He nods at me, his face impassive and straight. I sigh and walk past my mother, back out into the hallway.
I know that look on her face. She’s angry, but she’s not angry for the right reasons. She should be happy that Connor wants to protect me the way that he does, although I might understand why she wouldn’t want him fucking me.
Still, he didn’t do anything wrong. I went to him, and he’s just trying to cal
m me down. I linger in the hallway for a second, but my mother shuts the door behind her, and I can only hear muffled voices.
Reluctantly, I go back into my room and shut the door. I climb back into bed, still wide awake. I lie there for at least ten minutes before I hear a soft knock at my door and it creaks open.
My mother is standing in my doorway, looking in at me. I sit up as she comes in and sits at the foot of my bed, looking exhausted.
“I guess you know,” she says, frowning at me. “I’m sorry, honey. I should have told you sooner.”
I pause and then sigh. Connor must have told her that I know about their relationship. “He didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “He was just comforting me.”
“I know,” she says, a little tersely. “Connor is a good man. And we need him.”
“Why are you doing all of this?” I ask her.
She pauses for a second, watching me, before putting her hand on my shin. “Listen to me, honey. I worked for a very long time, gave my life and everything I had to Rydell Electric. And still my father is considering not leaving me in sole ownership all because I’m not married. All because he doesn’t approve of my being a single mother.” She frowns at me, and for the first time I see the woman behind the mask, the person behind her role as my mother.
“Women are held to different standards. It isn’t fair, but it’s the way it is. I want to get this company from your grandfather and make it a good company for women to work. I want to do something decent in this world. And to get any of that, I have to do some things that I’m not proud of, all because I have to play this horrible game that’s been set up for me. I don’t want this, but it’s the way it has to be.”
I watch her as she speaks, and I feel a deep well of admiration begin to form and solidify. I’ve always known my mother was a badass executive and pretty amazing, but I never really understood exactly what it meant.
For just a second, I can see the world the way it is, arrayed against women, telling them what they can and cannot do, assuming they’re less because of their gender. A world where truth isn’t truth and things are the way they are because a small group of people say that’s the way it has to be.
But that moment passes, and she’s my mother again.
