Daddy's Home

by Landon Rockwell

  He pulls his shirt back down, covering the come I blasted onto his stomach. “Really?” he teases.

  “I know, I made a mess on you.”

  He pulls my mouth in towards his. “A beautiful fucking mess.”

  Heat fills my chest. His voice is sweet when he says that, and his thumb caressing my cheek is so beyond perfect. “Come on, I’m taking you home,” he says.

  Even though he’s totally ordering me around, I can’t resist him anymore. Even worse, I don’t want to resist him anymore. I find myself wanting to do exactly what he tells me to.

  I shoot Liam and Bryce a quick text telling them I’m leaving. Liam sends me a pic back of Bryce making out with two of those sexy college boys at the same time.

  Guess they’re doing fine without me.

  And no offense, but I sure as hell am doing fine without them right now.

  Our ride home is quiet and peaceful. Cruz seems to have the perfect music playing in his car, some acoustic indie rock that’s as warm and soothing as the feeling in my chest right now.

  Why do I feel this good? A few hours ago I was cursing him, thinking I'd never see him again and that if for some reason I did, I definitely wouldn’t talk to him, let alone let him fuck me up against the side of a building.

  We get inside his condo, both take a quick pee and brush our teeth and then head into his bedroom. He turns a couple of those cool solar-powered candles on and his room fills with a low, orange light. Our clothes come off, and we hug.

  Then something fucking crazy, and at the same time, awful, happens. I suddenly find myself wanting to burst into tears. Why?

  Cruz pulls down the soft, light gray comforter on his bed. “After you, Reese.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I tease.

  Sort of.

  I go to get into his bed, but he grabs my wrist and won’t let me in. “Wait,” he says. We kiss, again, only this time it’s slow and sweet. I can still taste the bourbon on his lips that he had at The Rainbow Lounge.

  We get under the covers, and Cruz wraps his entire body around mine, creating an incredible cocoon around me. Our breathing syncs up, and I’m fast asleep within minutes.

  But it's not just any sleep, it’s by the far the best sleep I’ve had since the day I lost my mom.

  I wake up to the smell of coffee and pancakes. Fuck, not a bad way to start the day. Then I remember how yesterday morning started, and then how it ended, and I realize that no matter how amazing last night was with Cruz, I refuse to go through any of that shit with him again.

  I turn over in his bed and see Cruz coming in with a silver platter loaded with pancakes, a small condiment dish filled with warmed maple syrup, strips of bacon, and a hot, steaming cup of coffee. He looks gorgeous in the morning, his hair a perfect mess and wearing only a pair of navy blue boxers and a snug, white V-neck t-shirt.

  “This has to be a dream,” I say. “You cook too?”

  He laughs. “I don’t know if I’d call pancakes and bacon cooking, but it's a step up from mustard.”

  We kiss, and it's just as warm and sweet as our kiss before we went to bed last night. Two in a row, kind of scary. “You were amazing last night. Almost too amazing,” he says.

  “I definitely learned my lesson, Daddy. I promise to be good for the rest of this weekend,” I say, winking.

  He shakes his head. “Maybe I don’t want you to be good then. For real though, it’s too early for you to call me that. You’re going to end up getting me really hard again, and that won’t be good for either of us.”

  He reaches out and grabs my hand and then guides it through the opening in his boxers. “It’s never too early,” I tease. His cock starts expanding in my hand immediately.

  Cruz pulls away sharply. “Enough, eat!” he says, adjusting himself in his boxers and trying to shake off the fact that he just got turned on even faster than he probably expected.

  “Fine, I’ll eat.” I look at the food he made for me, and even though I grew up with nannies and personal chefs who cooked anything I ever wanted all of the time, somehow this meal feels more special than any meal I’ve ever had. He’s a busy man, so taking the time and effort to do this means a lot to me. “Thank you, Cruz,” I say, realizing that I’ve probably only called him by his first name once or twice since I’ve met him.

  He smiles. And fuck, what a gorgeous smile it is so early on a Sunday morning.

  Then it hits me… It’s Sunday, and this entire little fairy tale is about to end. My father's coming home later today, which means my time with Cruz really is about to expire.

  “You okay?” he asks, instantly sensing my worry.

  “Sure. The food looks great.” The last thing I want is him knowing that I suddenly give a fuck about our time coming to an end. If the feeling was reciprocal, which it isn't, that'd be different.

  “Dig in, kid,” he says.

  I start to eat. His pancakes are the best I’ve ever had, soft and fluffy with golden, buttery edges. Cruz takes down his boxers and throws on a white robe. He catches me looking at his bare butt as I stuff my face with the food he prepared for my hungry ass. And I couldn’t care less. He’s practically impossible not to look at.

  He plops down on the bed and sits right next to me in his robe.

  “Seriously, what the hell actually happened to you yesterday? You went crazy on me, like, out of nowhere,” I say, sensing that we’re in a good enough place for me to push for a little more insight as to what went down yesterday after breakfast.

  He pauses at first, and I can’t help but think I’m about to go down that familiar road with him where he shuts down and keeps everything inside. I wait patiently, and then for some reason, he starts to really open up. He tells me all about his ex-wife, Jill, who was the woman we ran into yesterday right before he went fucking nuts on me.

  “I poured everything into my marriage with her. We had an agreement; we were both on the same page. Two kids, the white picket fence, all of it. Then one day, we were heading to her surprise thirtieth birthday party, that I threw for her by the way, and she told me she couldn’t do it anymore. We were stopping into some random drug store to get a pregnancy test kit, and she said not to bother. She told me she was infertile. She told me a lot of shit that I bought. But basically, she said she was done with our marriage. It was a fucking disaster. I was devastated.”

  I know it’s a stupid question, but I can’t help myself from saying, “What happened with her surprise party?” I say it out of sincere concern, as though I suddenly want to know every detail about this man’s life.

  He chuckles. “You don’t want to know. It was awful. Jill took off crying, I had to show up at the venue I rented in downtown Boston to let everyone know she wasn’t coming. My friends were there, people I used to work for… Awful, humiliating night.”

  I carefully lay the last strip of bacon I was about to eat back down on the plate. I run my hands through his thick, wavy black hair. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I totally understand why you got all shitty on me yesterday,” I say, obviously joking about him being shitty.

  He shoots me a fake dirty look as though he’s mad at me. “I made up for it last night, didn’t I?” he says, referring to him drilling me up against the outside wall of The Rainbow Lounge.

  “Sure. You are pretty hot for an old man,” I joke.

  “Bullshit. I’ll fucking own your ass all day long in bed.”

  I laugh and run my thumb across his lip. “How about we call it a draw?” I say.

  The mood between us is perfect. Warm, soft, affectionate, and open.

  Truthfully, I never want this morning to end. I start to get really confused, wondering if maybe Cruz and I are more than just a fling.

  Knock it off, Reese. Don’t even fucking go there.

  I can’t help it. Seeing how open I feel when I’m with him, and how connected I feel with him when we’re both in the right space. I can’t help but feel like maybe there's a slight chance we actually have something s
o much more than a monster physical connection.

  Then I remember why I’m even here in the first place. Because Cruz is supposed to be watching out over me, keeping me out of trouble. Because he and my father see me as a stupid little brat who needs managing.

  Whatever. We spend the rest of the day together, and it's damn near perfect. So perfect I can start to feel a pang in my gut, knowing it's coming to an end soon.

  Throughout the day, Cruz tells me all about his commercial real estate development business that he’s trying to start up, and how my father has agreed to invest in his new company. He has a lot of work ahead of him, and I love the passion he has for doing things the right way. Just from my short tour of Boston with him, I could immediately tell that everything he does, he does it with passion and precision. And the best part, it's pretty clear that he’s not just about making money, although he plans on making plenty of it.

  The more I get to know him, the more I realize he's not a square peg at all. He's refreshing, and kind of the opposite of my father.

  Time is ticking and the closer we get to the end of the day, the more my chest tightens up with each passing minute. It’s ridiculous just how safe and connected I feel when I’m with him as time bleeds on. How can this all feel so damn good, even when we aren’t having sex?

  By the time Cruz drives me back to my father’s Brookline estate, I feel like someone just kicked me in the stomach.

  And it fucking hurts pretty bad.

  Cruz

  I have to get my head on straight. I’m about to show up to Gordon’s house with Reese. Jesus, if Gordon only knew what I did with his son this weekend.

  It’s pretty fucked up how long this weekend felt to me looking back. Feels like I’ve known Reese my whole life. I’ve never really opened up to anyone like I did with him, not even Jill. Maybe that was part of my problem, maybe she wasn’t wrong for making a one-eighty on our all-American plans. Not that she handled things the right way.

  But being with Reese, something about his innocence, and the way he takes life moment by moment. Oh, and the way he smiles at the littlest things. And the way he fucks, he gets me more worked up inside than I ever thought possible. Even his kisses seem to give me energy.

  He does everything like there’s no tomorrow, and that includes talking about his feelings.

  Things really went down a road I never saw coming this weekend, and I started feeling things I’ve never thought I could feel anymore. I even went so far in my crazy ass head to actually start wondering if he and I could maybe see each other again, even though my weekend job is technically done as far as doing Gordon a favor goes.

  Before I can finish my three-day recap with Reese in my head, I realize that we’re already pulling into Gordon’s gray cobblestone driveway. The old man’s house is ridiculous, at least twenty thousand square feet in one of the most expensive residential markets in the country. This place has to be worth fifteen mil.

  Gordon's fifteen-foot dark wooden entry door slowly opens as I put my car in park. I just assumed one of his personal assistants was coming out to greet Reese, but it’s actually Gordon himself.

  Fuck, I wasn’t in the mood for networking, especially with the most important business connection I have… the only man willing to loan me the quarter of a billion in cash so I can move forward with Long Tower Plaza.

  Gordon waits, standing at the top of his granite steps and leaning against a tall white pillar. I like to look good in terms of clothes, but he must be wearing a ten thousand dollar suit, black with ultra thin white pinstripes, and this is after being away on a business trip all weekend.

  I get out of my car before Reese and the first thing I notice is the old man’s face. He doesn’t look pleased.

  “Good trip, Gordon?” I say.

  His eyes are narrow. His hair looks even whiter than the last time we met face to face. “I thought it was until I came home and got a call from one of your former colleagues. Heard you ran into Bridgette Vega this weekend, or she ran into you.”

  I can feel my internal temperature start to spike. Did that bitch see something? Did she see us holding hands? How did she know who Reese was?

  Motherfucker.

  "I did," I say. "Is that a problem?"

  Reese finally makes his way out of the passenger seat. He locks eyes with his father, but neither one of them speaks a word. Reese looks like he wants to say something, but Gordon immediately fixes his attention back to me.

  “You need to tell what the hell is going on here, Cruz.”

  My eyes dart over to Reese, then back to Gordon. Fuck, this is painful as hell.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I say, my voice weak and drained of any real conviction.

  Gordon comes down off his front staircase and looks straight at me. “I’ve got proof, son. Look, this doesn't need to be complicated. What you do with your free time is your business, but you and him,” he says, looking over at his actual son and pointing at him. That’s-”

  Reese interrupts him, “It’s great to see you too, Dad. Glad you're focusing on what matters most in life, as usual.”

  “Reese, I’m sorry. But I need to deal with this first.”

  Reese laughs sarcastically.

  “Make a decision,” Gordon says to me, ignoring Reese altogether. “I’m not judging your life or your choices, but if you think I’m about to pour millions into something with you, knowing that you’re involved with him,” he says, referring to Reese again using a pronoun. “You’re going to have to count me out.”

  This sucks... And I mean, it really fucking sucks.

  I look over at Reese, unable to hide how conflicted I feel. He shakes his head and scoffs.

  “I’ll let you two talk for a minute. Make your decision, Cruz. If you want my backing, then this…” his voice trails off as he gestures towards both Reese and I. “It needs to end here.”

  He leaves, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding in.

  Reese and I lock eyes, and for some reason what should have been a simple weekend is now turning into a painful nightmare.

  “I guess this is goodbye,” he says. His eyes are heavy and sad.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He smirks. “Yeah, you didn’t have to. I can read your eyes. I'm kind of a master at spotting greed when I see it."

  “Look, you don’t understand. My whole life-”

  “Spare me the details, Daddy. I get it. I’m used to money winning out. Besides, like you said, you and me, it was always just a weekend fling.”

  “Reese-”

  “Forget it, Cruz. Thanks for the ride,” he says. He grabs his bag and starts heading up the front steps to his father’s home

  My mouth feels like it wants to open, but it can’t.

  As Reese disappears inside, I have to wonder if I just made a huge mistake.

  No, I tell myself. It has to end this way.

  This thing between Reese and me, it never stood a chance of ending any differently. I can’t just throw away my only chance at redeeming my career because of some twenty-one-year-old beach bum I’ve only known for three days.

  Gross. I feel horrible calling him a beach bum. He’s not. He’s so much more, even if I didn’t realize it at first. But none of that matters. I don’t care how much fun we had this weekend, I’m not a fucking idiot. I made that mistake with Jill already, and I’m not about to make that mistake again. It’s simple…

  Relationships don’t work, they only complicate matters.

  I get back into my car, knowing I made the right decision. I wait a bit, then text Gordon, basically signaling to him that I’m fully on board with the Long Tower Plaza project moving forward.

  He can read between the lines. In other words, Reese and I are finished…

  The following two weeks is a mix of ups and downs. Things really start to get on track with work. The blueprints for my downtown Boston project are complete, and Boston City Council approved the plans, with Gordon Davenport's bac
king. If this goes through… No, I mean when this goes through and this building is up and running, Kline Partners will have a major headache on their hands. The difference is, I own and operate my company, meaning I maintain the lion’s share of the profits, as opposed to the fuckheads who screwed me over at Kline.

  And eventually, I will make them pay by squeezing them out.

  So I should be feeling pretty good, but I don’t.

  I walk into a new craft brewery on Arlington Street. I don’t usually drink much, and I never drink alone. But I need something right now.

  All I can think about is Reese. I feel like the moment he walked up those steps and disappeared into his house, my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

  The pain has been unbearable, and I honestly don’t get it. How? I only knew him for a few days. How can I feel like I’d just been stripped of something so special? No relationship is that special.

  I shouldn’t be feeling this, at least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.

  The bartender wipes the glossy counter at the bar as I take a seat. He’s handsome as fuck, with perfect thick brown hair and nice muscle tone. A solid nine out of ten. He’s just a few years younger than I am, and normally I’d be flirting it up with him. But I can’t. In fact, I haven't really felt anything inside since I last saw Reese.

  I could seriously smash Vega's jaw in, and I have every intention of getting back at her someday. But even if she hadn’t messed shit up, Reese and I still couldn’t have worked.

  Then why am I so torn up inside?

  “What are you in the mood for?” the cute bartender says.

  I chuckle and think to myself, Reese. I’m fucking in the mood for Reese, asshole. “Don’t know, have any local double IPA’s?” I say, not even bothering to listen to whatever words come out of his mouth in response to my nerdy beer question.

  Next thing I know, a sixteen-ounce beer is planted right in front of me. I look the drink over, and it hits me…