Single TV Dad: Billionaire Romance... Naughty Angel Style

by Alexis Angel

  I leave the office earlier than usual because I can’t think straight anyway, and I drive through the streets of LA until it’s time to see her at the bakery. I go there with a heavy heart. How do you say goodbye to someone you finally got to hold onto?

  When I arrive, the shop is already empty, and she’s sitting at one of the little tables. She has a cup of coffee in front of her, but it’s not steaming anymore. How long has she been sitting like this?

  “Hi,” I say.

  Only then does she look up at me. She’s not wearing any makeup, like she cried it all off, and her hair is a mess. Her hands and her face are clean, with no flour to be seen anywhere. Usually when she struggles emotionally, she bakes. This is a very bad sign. I’m preparing for the worst.

  “Talk to me,” I say, sitting down opposite her.

  She sighs and turns watery blue eyes to me.

  “He kicked me out,” she says.

  I frown. “What?” This is the last thing I expected.

  She looks down at the coffee she didn’t drink and nods.

  “We had a really big fight. A lot of things were said.” Her voice cracks, and she swallows hard before continuing. “The bottom line is that he knows that our marriage is voided now. He said if he can’t do anything about my ‘affair’,” she makes quotation marks in the air with her fingers, “then I have to leave because he won’t live with a cheating whore.”

  I cringe for her sake. Those are very harsh words.

  “I’m sorry, Skylar,” I say, and I mean it. Sorry that my brother is a dick and sorry that I put her in this predicament. I reach out and touch her shoulder, and it’s as if the touch finally allows Skylar to cry. Big fat tears roll over her cheeks. I want to pull her against me, hold her, comfort her, but I’m not sure if she’ll let me. I’m scared she blames me for this because it’s partly my fault.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she says in a whisper. “I mean, I guess I could get a place of my own…”

  I don’t know what she’s going to say to finish that sentence, but I don’t let her. I shake my head.

  “Come stay with me,” I say.

  She looks up at me, unsure.

  “It doesn’t have to be for long. Just until the two of you figure out what’s the next step. But you don’t have to be alone, and I know this is half my fault. Let me make it up to you by caring for you, at least.”

  She looks down at her hands, thinking about it. I don’t try any harder to persuade her. We sit in silence, and I let her make her decision by herself. It’s hard when all I want is for her to come home with me so that I can protect her, but I impress myself but keeping quiet. Finally, she looks up at me. Her eyes are like the ocean, drowning deep and shimmering.

  “Okay,” she says so softly I barely hear it. “Thank you.”

  Skylar

  The bakery becomes popular almost overnight. Someone posted a very good review in a top food publication, and suddenly, I’m being swarmed by customers. We’re so busy, Jack has gotten behind the counter to act as a second assistant while I’m in the kitchen, baking almost all the time to keep up with the demand for fresh goods.

  It helps to distract me. I always saw Paul as a bit of a dark horse. I’ve never understood him, but we made it work together somehow, despite our differences. All of that has fallen apart now, even though I was never in love with him. We were married, for all intents and purposes, for two years, and that doesn’t just go away. Even if we just made it work between us for the sake of convenience. You learn to love someone you build a life with, and I love Paul in my own way.

  It’s not romantic love, or even platonic love, but it’s love, nonetheless. With him kicking me out, I don’t know how I feel. I can’t say I feel abandoned or rejected because that would mean there was acceptance of some kind. I just feel lost.

  “Are you okay?” Lizzie asks, coming into the kitchen Tuesday afternoon. I haven’t left the industrial ovens all day, and I’m sweaty and full of flour.

  “I’m doing as well as I can. If we keep on like this, we might need to hire another hand permanently.”

  Lizzie nods. “Yeah, business is good. But that’s not what I mean.”

  I look up at her. She’s always been able to read me.

  “What’s going on?” she asks. “You’ve been distracted and emotional since the weekend.”

  I shrug. I don’t know what to say to her.

  “Is everything okay with Paul?” she asks.

  I shake my head. I’m not going to lie to her if she’s going to ask me directly.

  “We’re taking a break,” I say. It’s an understatement. “I’m not living at home right now.”

  Lizzie raises her eyebrows. “What? Where are you staying, then?”

  I shrug again and refuse to make eye contact. “With Parker.”

  I can feel her eyes on me, the weight of her stare accusing. I don’t look at her. I don’t want to see what her face says.

  “Parker, Paul’s brother?” she asks.

  I nod and finally glance up at her. Her mouth drops open.

  “And I’m only hearing about this now? Of all the places you could have gone? You can even come to me. What’s going on here?”

  I pull up on shoulder as I wrestle a tray with baked rolls out of the oven and onto a cooling rack.

  “It’s temporary.”

  Lizzie narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”

  I shake my head. Now, I’m lying, but I can’t tell her what is really going on. Not without it sounding terrible. She doesn’t know about my history with Parker, or the fact that Paul is gay, and it won’t make sense to her. It barely makes sense to me.

  “I’m just trying to survive,” I say.

  My phone rings at the same time Jack appears.

  “Lizzie, if you’re going to take a break, you’re going to have to tell me because I’m dying here.”

  She glances at me with a look that says we’re not done talking about this before she disappears. I’m relieved to be alone in the kitchen again. I press the phone to my ear.

  “Parker,” I say. I haven’t had a chance to speak to him all day. Moving into his place last night was a little awkward, and then, he had to run for an emergency implementation meeting at work.

  “How are things going?” he asks.

  “Crazy,” I say. “Since that review, the place has blown up.”

  “Okay, well I have a surprise for you when you get home.”

  He says “home” like it’s our space together now. I let it slide.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’m cooking dinner for you. So you can relax for a change.”

  I smile. He’s a great guy.

  “You have no idea how good that sounds,” I say. “But I might have to close a little later today. The masses are begging for bread.”

  “You take your time,” he says. “Just let me know when you’re on your way.”

  When I hang up, I can’t help but think how different it is from Paul. Of course, this is still a novelty, but it means something.

  When I finally make it to Parker’s apartment, my back aches from being on my feet all day, and if I have to think about bread one more time, I think I’m going to be sick. When I walk into the apartment and put my keys on the narrow table by the door, the smell of steak and veggies greets me. Parker stands at the counter in the open plan kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine.

  “You have no idea how good it smells,” I say.

  I hug Parker, and he kisses me on the cheek. It’s all very chaste and reserved. Since I spoke to him about Paul kicking me out, he’s been keeping me at arm’s length. I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t know how I feel about anything, so it’s easier just to push everything away and not think about it.

  We sit down to eat, and the food is delicious. I was always the one cooking for Paul, so this is a treat. Paul has very set ideas about the role of a woman. It’s weirdly sexist, considering that he’s ga
y, but I played along as best I could.

  Parker cooked steak, potatoes, and green beans, and it’s fresh and delicious. The wine, a rosé, pairs with it perfectly. The alcohol makes everything feel a little more distant, and I feel lighter.

  When we’re finished eating, I get up and take my glass to the counter. I pour more wine for myself. Tonight, I want to drown in oblivion. I just want to forget.

  I hear Parker’s chair move as he gets up and hear him coming toward me. I put down the bottle of wine, and he’s behind me. He presses his body against the length of mine. He’s careful, as if he’s asking a question. I can feel him hard in his pants, eager for me, but I know I can say I don’t want this right now, and he’ll back away.

  I do want this, though. I don’t know about sex, but I want him close to me. I want to feel anchored to something, cared for and loved.

  He kisses my neck. I tip my head to the side to give him space. His hands are on my hips, his hips gyrate slowly against my ass, and he nibbles and licks a trail from my earlobe to my collarbone and back up again.

  I close my eyes. A moment earlier, I didn’t want sex, but he’s coaxing that need out of me now. My body slowly wakes up, and I’m burning up, developing the desire for him. His hands slide around my body, only sliding up to my breast, the other to the front of my pants. He pushes his hand into my pants, my panties, too, and I gasp when his fingers find my clit with ease.

  He starts rubbing me, his fingers working magic on my clit. I’m getting wetter, hotter. His cock is hard against my ass when he grinds into me. My body is enveloped by his arms, trapped between his hips and his hands on my breast and in my pants.

  I tip my head back onto his shoulder and breathe through an open mouth. He massages my breast, rubs my clit in tight circles, and his hips don’t stop gyrating.

  My nipples are hard, and the one he’s not paying attention to strains against the material of my bra. The fingers on my clit create a need to orgasm, and I want a release. I want Parker to take me there.

  His hand slides down from my breast to the bottom of my shirt, and he slides his hand up on my bare skin. He pulls the bra cup out of the way, and my breast is free. He pinches my erect nipple lightly, and I gasp. The combination of his tugging on my nipple and his fingers on my clit make me shudder, and I lean back against his body. My legs are starting to feel weak.

  Parker holds me up, and his hands caress me, stroke me, and rub me. I turn my head to the side, and his mouth finds mine. He pushes his tongue into my mouth without ceremony, penetrating me in the way he can right now. His tongue plays around mine in my mouth, and he tastes like wine and the food we had. He leaves me mouth and kisses along my jaw. His breath is hot on my skin, and I move my head as he works his way up my jaw, back to my earlobe and onto my neck so he has access all the time.

  He lets go of my breast and removes his hand from underneath my shirt. He puts his hand on my neck, just holding me lightly, and it’s hot as hell. I turn to him as much as his hand in my pants will allow, and I kiss him deeply and sensually.

  “I want you, Parker,” I say. “I want to taste you and suck on you.

  He swallows, and his eyes are deep and dark. He gives me that look that a man gets when he looks at a woman and he’s sure of what’s going to happen. He has lust written all over his face.

  He takes me by the hand, his hand slipping out of my pants, and leads me to the bedroom. He closes the door behind us, even though we are alone, and turns back to me.

  He starts undressing me. The shirt goes first, and he doesn’t waste any time with my bra, either. He kisses me and sucks each of my nipples, before he carries on undressing me. I do the same for him, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off his shoulder, getting rid of the undershirt he’s wearing underneath. When we’re both topless, I press myself against his body so he feels my breasts against his skin. He runs his hands down my back, and I shiver.

  We step away from each other and carry on undressing each other as if we agreed how we would do it. I undo his pants and manage to work them halfway down his legs when he has to take over. It’s not always easy undressing a guy, no matter how easy they make it look in the movies.

  Parker has no difficulty getting me out of my pants. When we’re both naked, he steps against me, and the line of his body presses against mine. He cups my cheeks and kisses me deeply. He backs me toward the bed. When my legs touch the edge of the bed, he lifts me up and half-carries me onto the bed. He puts me down on my back and turns around, throwing his leg over my head like when you get into a motorcycle. He’s upside down on top of me, and I realize what he’s doing.

  He doesn’t waste any time diving in between my legs. His cock is hard and straining above me, and I stick out my tongue and lick a line along his shaft.

  He moans into my pussy, but his tongue works magic on my clit, and I can’t focus for a moment. The angle of his cock is wrong, so I have to turn my head to the side to get him into my mouth, but I make it happen. Sucking him is one of my favorites things to do. I can smell the musty scent of his sex and his balls as I suck on him while he goes to town on my pussy, making me writhe and jerk and spasm beneath him.

  I haven’t done a sixty-nine before, and as awkward as it is, it’s also hot as hell. I can’t think of anything more erotic than sucking him off while he eats me out, and the sensations threaten to push me to the edge very quickly. I know he won’t let me come yet. I’ve started to realize that denial is his game, and he plays it well. But I don’t want a release right now. Not yet.

  I want him to keep licking and sucking on me while I do the same for him. Then I want him to turn around and stick his dick inside of me. I want him on top of me, or beneath me, or whatever he wants to do, and I want him to fuck me.

  Hard.

  Parker

  Being able to sixty-nine with a woman is a fantasy-come-true for any man. I’m on top of Skylar with my mouth between her legs, and she’s sucking me off. I’m almost certain there is no purer form of bliss, no matter what they say about eternal happiness.

  She moans beneath me, the sounds a little muffled with my cock in her mouth, and I must admit it’s hot as hell. Her moans also send little hums through my cock, and the vibrations are driving me crazy. It’s a sensation I would never have expected, but it’s fucking fantastic.

  I lick up and down her slit, lapping at her wetness. When I close my lips around her clit and suck, she moans and squirms, and the sounds she makes travel through my cock. I move my hips slowly, aware that she’s pinned beneath me, and I don’t want this to become unpleasant, but effectively, I’m fucking her mouth and I love it. This is the kind of kinky thing men only dream of, and I’m here, acting it out with the sexiest woman I know.

  After a while, I can feel her getting close to orgasm. I don’t know how I know. I just do. It’s in the way she gasps and moans, her lips getting slack around my cock. Her scent gets stronger. I don’t want her to come yet. I want to thoroughly enjoy the evening, and the plus side of doing this position with her is that there’s no way I’ll come yet. Her sucking, although fantastic, is just not vigorous enough. This might be the best position yet.

  I stop paying attention to her clit and roll off her. He gasps like she’s coming up for air. Her cheeks are rosy, and a red flush spreads across her breast and inner thighs, telling me she’s fully turned on. I lie down on my back and hold my hand out to her. She sits up, and her ponytail has gone completely skew. She pulls the hairband out, and her auburn hair is ruffled. Sex hair. Hot.

  She makes a move to straddle me, but I shake my head.

  “Turn around, baby,” I say, and in no time, she knows what I want. Instead of facing me, she straddles my hips, facing the other direction. Her back is toward me, and I run my hands down between her shoulder blades.

  “You have the most beautiful back I’ve ever seen,” I say to her.

  “It’s all that hard work in the kitchen,” she answers. “Sometimes, I worry I’m too muscular.”


  “God, never,” I say.

  She wraps her fingers around my cock, and I gasp. The sensation never gets old. She positions herself and lowers her body onto my cock. From this angle, her ass presses against my thighs, bubbling out, and the sight is enough to make me consider coming all over her.

  She starts rocking back and forth, moving her hips, riding me in reverse cowgirl. She knows exactly what she’s doing, rubbing me up the right way, and she moans as she picks up her pace, fucking me faster and harder.

  For a while, we keep at it, and the sound of our sex fills the room. She’s bouncing up and down on my cock, and it makes a soft slapping sound. Her ass looks fantastic. I reach forward and squeeze her cheeks. I can just imagine how her breasts are bouncing, too. Her hair hangs over her back, and I push my hand into it, fisting a handful of the stuff. I’m not pulling on her hair. I resist the urge, but it’s close.

  I can feel an orgasm building. I let her ride me for a while longer before I ask her to stop and get off me.

  “I don’t want to come yet,” I say.

  She lifts her hips, slipping me out of her. We change positions again. It’s the best way to keep an orgasm at bay. I pull her down onto the mattress with me and kiss her, pushing my tongue into her mouth, making out with her. My hands roam her body, her breasts, her pussy, her legs, and back up again. I roll her over onto her side so that she’s lying facing away from me, and I curl my body around hers like a question mark, spooning her. I press my hard cock against her ass. I’m slippery, slick with our sex, and I slide across her cheeks.

  She moans and leans forward, her ass pointing to me, making it easier for me to enter her again. I guide my cock toward her entrance and push into her from behind. This position is like doggy style, but it’s so much more personal, because we’re spooning, except for the fact that her back isn’t against my chest. I put one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder to stabilize her, and I start bucking my hips, hammering into her. She cries out and grips the edge of the bed so hard her knuckles turn white. Her moans are muffled like she’s biting her lip, and I nail her hard. Her body rocks back and forth with the effort, and I reach around and grab her breast. I hold onto her, her breast squeezed in my hand, my balls slapping against her thigh, and she cries out. For a moment, all I can think about is her body and the fact that I’m claiming it for myself. The rhythm, her muffled moans and cries, the breast in my hand, and her beautiful back, are all mesmerizing.