DILF DIARIES: Oh Baby

by St. Klaire, Stephanie

  Jules’ mind was as twisted in confusion as her stomach. Was that a good thing or a bad thing, she wondered. “Where are my clothes? I can’t believe you saw me in my…underwear.”

  Voice still groggy and face half buried in his pillow, he looked at her. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “You’ve seen me in my underwear?” Jules needed off the emotional rollercoaster she was on. She wasn’t sure whether she was thrilled or mortified. She peeked under the blankets, relieved to see she was wearing a cute pair.

  “No, I’ve seen drunk women in their underwear. Firefighters get called to everything.”

  “Oh, so now I’m just some drunk naked chick. Is that why you didn’t sleep with me?” And she was back to offended. Even she was having trouble keeping up with her quick shifting emotions.

  “Yes — I mean no—” he stopped. There was no way he was winning this. It was too early, and she was too all over the place. He couldn’t keep up; it was a losing battle.

  “So, I’m not the kind of girl you’ll sleep with then. Hmph…” Now, she was disgusted with herself for pouting.

  “You’re twisting my words, Jules. You’re not just some chick. And yes, that’s why I didn’t sleep with you.”

  “You did want to sleep with me?” Well, now she wanted to know. Was Jack just being an honorable guy, or was she just not slutty enough to make the cut?

  “Wait, are we really having this conversation?”

  “No. I mean…yes. Hell, I don’t know!” She sat up too quickly and got dizzy. “Whoa.”

  “Yeah, whoa. Go easy. You’re probably dehydrated after the night you had.” He sat up to check her over as well as he could through the blankets.

  Jules grabbed her head between her hands in hopes it would keep the room from spinning. “Oh my God. What kind of night made me feel like that? Was my head in a vice?”

  “No, but you polished off a couple bottles of wine by yourself.”

  “Marty,” Jules recalled. There was something of a memory. Now, if she could just remember the rest. “That’s right. Oh hell, what was I thinking?”

  “I don’t think you were thinking,” he laughed. “You were cutting loose, getting some stuff off your chest.”

  “Oh no, what did I say?” Jules froze. Why she didn’t drink was all coming back to her like a bad dream. She was a chatty drunk.

  “You really don’t remember?” Propped up on his elbow, he wore an ornery grin.

  “I really don’t. Was I a total ass? I mean, that’s your department.”

  “Easy on the insults. I’m the reason your hair is still blonde and not died cabernet.”

  Jules covered her face with both hands, trying to hide from the images he was painting for her. “You held my hair. Oh my God, I puked in front of you.”

  “Again, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “Yeah, you keep saying that. Was I a total freak, though?”

  “Not a total freak, just sort of a freak.” He shrugged.

  “Jack!” Jules pulled the pillow out from under his propped elbow and hit him with it.

  “Look, you’re just very honest when you’re drunk.”

  “Honest…oh shit.”

  “Language, Jules.”

  “Ramsey!” she hollered. “Oh my God! Where’s Ramsey?”

  “Already been up, fed, and down for a morning nap.” He smiled.

  “Is it that late already?” Jules looked to her wrist, but her watch was gone.

  “Sure is.”

  Grabbing her head, she started rubbing her temples and winced. “This hurts. Why does it hurt so bad?”

  “You’ve never been hungover?”

  “Never. Just tipsy. Once. How can you even look at me?” She peeked at him out of one eye. “You keep grinning. I said some incriminating things, didn’t I?”

  “Not too much. Just that you love wine, Ramsey, and me in my underwear,” he deadpanned. “You want to have my babies and we’re getting married next month.”

  Jules jumped at his words, slamming her head on the headboard of his bed. “What? Married? And we didn’t even sleep together? What if we aren’t good at that…together?”

  Jack rushed to sit up, shocked by her response. “I just said we’re getting married and all you have to say is we should have sex first?”

  “No! We can’t get married,” she panicked. “I mean, you’re a nice guy, and a really great dad, but — wow, I think I’m still a little…” Sliding down the sheets, she laid back down, holding her head.

  “Drunk, maybe?” he finished, deciding to let her off the hook a little, despite the fun he was having at her expense. “I’m giving you shit. You didn’t say a word all night. Just snored and drooled everywhere.”

  “I did no such thing. I don’t drool, and certainly don’t snore!”

  “Have you heard yourself sleep?”

  “No, but…” But what? she thought. But what? How could she spin this? “It must’ve been the wine!” Good answer. She mentally patted her own back for the quick thinking while in a drunken stupor.

  “I’m kidding, Jules. The only thing you mentioned was your nightstand drawer.” Now he was really screwing with her.

  After a long pause, she asked in a low, monotone voice. “My what?”

  “Nightstand drawer. How you keep your—”

  “Stop! Stop right there.” She covered her ears, not prepared to hear what he was about to say. Of all the things to say while drunk.

  He finished the thought anyway, because he was Jack, after all. “Reading light in your drawer. I think it’s sweet you read every night in bed.”

  Her body relaxed beneath the covers and her hands fell away from her ears. “Oh. Yeah. That. I mean, not every night, but most nights.”

  “Uh huh. Why don’t you take a shower? You’ll feel better.” He tossed back the covers, wearing only her favorite black boxer briefs. “I’ll grab you a robe.”

  He left the room snickering, and she pulled the sheets over her head to die a slow death of embarrassment. He knew more than he was letting on.

  What the hell did I say to him, and how far away do I need to move?

  The rest of their day was low key. They exchanged looks often, her wondering what he knew, him wondering how much of what she said she actually meant. The tension in the space was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife. It was hot, sexual, and even breathy at times, depending on their proximity.

  It didn’t matter what she said to him the night before. He wanted her and she him — it was becoming clear. As if he weren’t a walking, talking turn-on already, he took care of her when she was at her lowest, and that made him that much more desirable. For him…well, he just found her fucking desirable because she was Jules. Images of her wearing a black lace bra and panties in his bed, moaning his name in her sleep played over and over, making it hard to sit, walk, and everything else. He had a raging hard-on not even the cold shower and a quick hand job could put to rest.

  Sitting on the back patio, she was reading while he was playing with Ramsey, when a noise from inside got their attention. Through the backdoor came the usual crowd. Guys from fire, police, and emergency medical, along with their other halves and the bonus women who came with the party, filtered onto the back patio. Everyone surrounded the pool, jumped in the hot tub, and lit up the grill like a well-rehearsed act.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Jack asked.

  “Second Friday night of the month, man,” his buddy Rafe from the station said.

  “Oh, yeah. Well, it isn’t a good night, guys.” But nobody was listening. It was like a well-oiled machine as everyone did their regular duty to get the party going. It all seemed so routine.

  “Jules, I’m sorry. I’ll get them out of here,” he said, but she was quick to stop him.

  “No, don’t. It’s your house, and they’re your friends. Have the barbeque. Not everything has to change around here.”

  Surprised by her answer, Jack asked, “You sure?
I know this isn’t your scene. I’m not even sure it’s mine anymore.”

  “Of course I’m sure. It’ll be fun. You deserve a little fun.”

  “But you’ll stay, right?” That was his one condition.

  She paused and looked around, wondering what it meant that he wanted her to stick around for his party — the parties she typically tried to shut down. “Yeah, I’ll stay. I mean, you might need help with Ramsey. Go ahead and do your usual. Have a beer — whatever.”

  “Oh, I don’t usually drink,” he said under his breath, for her ears only.

  This is interesting, she thought. “You don’t? Like, at all?”

  “No. Someone has to drive everyone home.” He shrugged.

  “You could always call a cab or something.” Just when she thought he was done surprising her, Jack did it again.

  “Eh, I want to make sure everyone gets where they’re supposed to go,” he admitted. “I sleep better.”

  “That’s very…noble of you. I didn’t know that.”

  “Yep. A lot of things you don’t know about me, Jules.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She was pleasantly surprised. Jack just got better and better — and that almost wasn’t a good thing. It made him a little harder to resist with every layer he peeled back.

  As the night went on, the party got louder — as per usual. A Jack Decker party wasn’t a party until the neighbors were pissed. But this time, it was Jack who was getting pissed. He found himself correcting everyone’s language, cleaning up after them, and taking cigars away because the smoke can’t be around the baby. It was a full-time bullshit job. He was over it.

  Then, there were the bonus women following Jack around, looking for attention. That started to piss off Jules. The tacky women would run their hands all over him, flirt shamelessly, but when they tried to play with the baby and pick her up, Jules stepped in and took the baby inside to put her down for the night. Whores, she thought. Jack’s baby isn’t the way to Jack’s pecker, she continued to fume. Okay…well, it sort of was, but he wasn’t into bimbos. Jules just kept telling herself that until she believed her own crap. Jack may not be off limits, but the baby was as far as she was concerned. Bimbos and babies don’t mix, she thought, sticking her nose in the air.

  When she came back out, she quickly remembered what she hated about these parties to begin with — aside from the noise. The tacky women, now known affectionately as the whores, were dancing like they had a pole and a purpose, until one of their bikini tops popped up, flashing a new set of tits. Of course, she giggled like it was no big deal. That one was the drunk whore, and Jules wasn’t bitter at all.

  Jack raced toward the bare-chested woman’s side and pulled her against him, letting her hands drift wherever they wanted. He pinned her against a pillar from the pergola covering the length of the patio and pulled off his shirt, putting them skin to skin.

  Jules lost her shit and raced home through the communal gate, ignoring Jack as he called her name. Two can play at this game, she thought. There were plenty of men — hot men — trying to play grab ass. Time to turn it up and show Jack what he was missing.

  Jules made her way back through the gate in the scandalous bright red bikini she’d known would come in handy someday, matching fuck me high-heels, and a swagger Jack had yet to see. When she knew she had every man’s attention, she giggled like a bimbo and dropped her sunscreen on the ground in front of her.

  “Can someone help me with that? I can’t reach my back.” It didn’t matter that the sun was dropping in the west and barely there. She was making a point — and a scene.

  Some young guy, handsome as hell, was the first one to the bottle, and had his hands on her in seconds. She didn’t particularly like the guy. He was loud and obnoxious, but it was pissing Jack off, so he was hers to use for the night.

  She flipped her hair, bent over too many times, giggled like she’d had too much to drink, and needed a big, strong man for everything. She was being everything she loathed, and everything Jack desired. Jules was a bimbo, and she was good at it. So good, Jack was huffing through flared nostrils and an angry scowl.

  Topless Whore was now as decent as a three-inch triangle could be on a set of double-ds, though the t-shirt she now wore helped. Despite her attempts, Jack wasn’t interested in her — or her not as drunk twin. He sat in his chair, still correcting everyone’s language — it didn’t matter that the baby was asleep — with his eyes locked on Jules.

  Kicking his legs out in front of him, he crossed his ankles and propped his head between his thumb and index finger. His glare was steely, menacing, and full of threatening desire. Mission accomplished. He. Was. Jealous.

  Shoe firmly placed on the other foot, Jules let him have it. She turned up the music and started to dance. Dipshit dude was happy to accompany her, of course. With her back to his front, she moved to the music, hips swaying, ass grinding, lips plump and pouty. She ran her hand through her hair and danced for…Jack. When Dipshit wrapped his hand around Jules’ waist and dropped his lips to her shoulder, her eyes went wide in surprise. Things were getting a little beyond her comfort zone. She pushed at his hand and shrugged her shoulder away from his touch right before she saw Jack jump from his chair and barrel through the crowd. That hadn’t taken long.

  “Hands off, asshole.” The music lowered to a mere murmur.

  “Jesus, Jack, I’m just dancing with a pretty girl. Surely you can’t nail them all in one night.” The bastard had a weasel’s laugh and deserved what was coming. Jules may have been an enticing minx, but the guy was still a douche.

  In quick motion, Jack tucked Jules behind him and landed a solid fist on Dipshit’s jaw. Jack Decker decked the guy. “I warned you. You didn’t listen, dickweed. You need to leave.”

  “Jack, what are you doing?” Jules questioned, feeling a bit guilty. She wanted him a little jealous; beating his chest and ready to knock people out was more barbaric than she was aiming for.

  He turned to her, and answered, “Rescuing you from this piece of shit. You picked a real winner, Juliet.”

  “What the fuck, man? Since when do you claim bitches by pissing all over them?” Dickweed asked. Bad idea.

  Jack nailed him again in the gut. “Call the lady a bitch one more time.”

  Dickweed was bent over in pain, trying to catch his breath. “Someone call the cops. I’m pressing charges.”

  “I am the cops.” Felix stepped forward. “And I saw it all. My friend asked you to leave. You’re now trespassing.”

  “What?” Dickweed looked around, all eyes on him and not a single supporting nod from anyone.

  “You heard me. Get out of here, grabby hands, or I’ll haul you in.” Felix turned to the crowd now glued to the chaotic scene. “Ladies, none of you leave with this guy. He has bad manners where women are concerned and he’s an asshole.”

  Of course Jules had picked the asshole who wasn’t good to women — and everyone had known it but her. She regretted her choice, and almost her behavior.

  The crowd laughed at Felix’s quick warning, then Felix turned to Jack. “I got this, Decker.”

  It seemed Felix knew more than Jules did about Jack, including how he felt about her. Maybe Jack didn’t even know entirely how he felt, but he was figuring it out fast.

  Holding Jules by the arm, Jack led her through the gathered crowd as the music went back up. Show was over. He closed the sliding glass door behind them and pulled her out of view of the gawkers on the other side of the glass, all the way to his bedroom. “What the hell, Jack? What’s your problem?”

  “This is beneath you. He is beneath you,” Jack started, pointing toward the back wall of his bedroom, as if Dickweed were on the other side. “You’re better than this — all of this.” Jack waved his hand over his shoulder, indicating the party outside and their surroundings.

  “Really? So, what’s good for you isn’t good enough for me?” she fired back. “I see, double standards and all that.”

 
“What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you pin that topless floozy against the pillar and get a little action.” She crossed her arms, and her eyes narrowed to a heated glare. “I’ve gotta say, you’re pretty quick.”

  Stunned, Jack stared at her. After all this time, he was surprised she would think he could be so crass. He raked his hands through his tousled hair in frustration. “First of all, I was covering her so nobody could take pictures with their phones, because once that’s on the internet, it never goes away. Second, she was drunk and hand no idea what she was doing, so chances were, her top was going to pop off again — it clearly doesn’t fit her. I gave her my shirt so she wouldn’t flash anyone again tonight. Third, this is a little action.”

  Jack pulled Jules against him, his mouth landing on hers, hard, fast, and furious. At first, she was rigid, hands against his chest and eyes wide in disbelief, until reality settled in and she realized she was getting exactly what she wanted: Jack Decker.

  His large hands teased their way down her back and gripped her round ass, pulling her firm against his throbbing length. Since she hadn’t a clue where his interests lay, he was just going to fucking show her.

  She moaned, eager to feel more of him, needing to feel more of him…until she remembered they weren’t alone.

  “Wait,” she panted after she broke the connection.

  “What? Too fast? We can wait, Jules.” His hands gripped her shoulders as he searched her eyes for answers. “I’ve been wanting this since the first time you pitched a fit on my lawn. I can wait longer. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

  He wanted her? Surprise and excitement rattled her. “No — I mean, yes. I mean…yes and no.” She shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts, but all she could think of was Jack wanting her. “I want it too, but you have a backyard full of guests who are coming in and out of your house. I don’t want to be another one of your conquests simply because I’m the only one here you haven’t banged.”

  “Banged.” He laughed at her choice of words. “I haven’t banged anyone here. And I don’t care about them. I’ll go get rid of them.”

  When he pulled away to make good on his words, she stopped him. “Jack, no. You can’t be rude to your guests for—”