Daddy Daddy: MFM Menage Romance

by Demi Donovan

  Finally, she sinks down next to me and cuddles up.

  “Cold?” I ask.

  “Just a little chilly,” she admits, and I pull her against me, warming her with my body heat.

  I offer her a sandwich and she takes it gratefully. I know she missed lunch today, but so did I. The day was so packed with meetings and tasks, many of which we’ve now unceremoniously skipped, that there was no time for luxuries like food. Sometimes, when a day gets like that, I know the only right move is to postpone some of the ‘can’t be postponed’ stuff and step out. I can’t be in control in a system that is allowed to take control of me, basically.

  “Tell me about Callista,” I urge Cassie.

  She takes a breath, seeming to ponder my request as she nibbles on the sandwich. I’ve come to love our meals together and the rare few times lately that I haven’t been at the same table with her have felt incredibly wrong. It’s amazing how in such a short time, someone can become such a fixture for your existence, someone you can’t imagine being without.

  I wonder if Sawyer feels the same way, or similar to it, though he’s had so much less time alone with Cassie. In our recent brotherhood of understanding, I should probably offer to him to spend some time together with Cassie without me peering over their shoulders. But the time is not yet at hand, I decide, pushing my friend and the third of this unholy union out of my mind.

  “She’s really bubbly, very smart. I’ve always been good at math but she gets chemistry and all of the classes where you just need to talk and talk and talk. I was never good at public speaking but Callista is a natural. She’s on the debate team, you know.”

  “Sounds like an impressive young woman,” I say, taking the opportunity to kiss Cassie on the top of her head again. “Much like her sister.”

  For a moment, I think I notice some movement from the corner of my eye somewhere behind us. I twist my body slightly to look, but find no one there. With Cassie seeming not to notice anything, I write it off as a bird or an animal, both of which there are plenty of around these lakes, and forget all about it. It takes a minute longer for the ominous clump to dissolve in the pit of my stomach, but soon it’s like it never happened.

  “Callista’s more like my mom,” Cassie says, her voice faltering a little. “Better. I’m more like my dad.”

  She doesn’t add the ‘worse’ but I can hear it in the unspoken silence.

  “Your father is a good man,” I say firmly. “He’s inventive, he goes for what he wants, he’s a decision maker and he used to be a leader. Alcohol got him and that’s a disease that’s damn hard to fight. I know it’s hard to see, but being your father’s daughter is not a bad thing, Cassie.”

  Her bottom lip quivers and it’s obvious it’s time to change the topic. Girls and their fathers have a special bond and hers has definitely been mangled with Cameron. I guess it’s just her luck that one of her Daddies is here, then.

  “Shh, baby,” I say, my voice getting huskier. “It’s all right. You’re with Daddy and you could never disappoint me. I love you how you are and that’s not going to change.”

  I tip her chin upward, only when I see the wide-eyed look in her eyes realizing what I said. Love. It should fill me with terror, or so I think, but it doesn’t. Before she can say anything, either argue with me or feel like she’s expected to tell me more of her own feelings, I kiss her.

  Her lips yield to mine easily and she leans into me, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks. Her palms are pressed against my chest and I let my tongue slide into her mouth slowly, tasting her. The intimacy is excruciating in the sense that I know once again that it is so fucking hard to break. Whenever I get a taste of Cassie, I want to pick her up and run off with her, keep her to myself and safe from the harm of the world forever. I want her to sleep in my bed, I want to kiss her whenever I feel the urge to… And I want to give her everything.

  But somewhere inside of me, I know I’m not the only one feeling that.

  I pull her legs on my lap and my hands roam her body, but we behave ourselves. It’s nothing more than a teenage make-out session and yet it fills me with the kind of energy adrenaline junkies seek. I feel like I could do anything.

  It’s nearing dusk when Cassie and I finally resign ourselves to returning to the car and the world. I didn’t even take my phone with me and neither did she so we’ve been blissfully cut off from the universe, just the two of us.

  As we head out the forest, the car already in view, I toss one last glance over my shoulder. This whole time, I’ve felt like someone’s been glancing over my shoulder, spying on me and Cassie as we hid away in the forest. I guess my paranoid protectiveness of her is getting a little out of hand…

  That, or there really was someone there with us.

  Twenty

  Cassie

  Curled up on the chair in front of a desk in my room at Parker’s place, I find my mind wandering from the calculus books I borrowed from the library close to SCP Limited. Between moments with Parker, Sawyer, and things being a little weird with them on top of the madness at work, I’ve found myself sneaking off and doing some quasi-homework more than I’d like to admit.

  I never thought math would become fun, but here I am, scribbling through notebooks of calculations and complex trigonometry.

  I’ve been even more into it since Parker and I talked in passing about college. I didn’t tell him about the early admission letters I got, but he did get it out of me that I would love to attend and get a degree. The look on his face told me that he was going to work on making that a reality and I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.

  I don’t need any more reasons to love him and Sawyer more than I do already. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I think about what Parker told me yesterday, telling me he loves me. It wasn’t outright, but I knew what he meant and he didn’t rush to take those words back. It made me feel special.

  As much as I wanted to tell him I loved him too, I didn’t. Mostly because it’s something I want to tell him and Sawyer at the same time. In fact, I need to tell them at the same time. I want them both the same, and I think I love them the same as well.

  My phone buzzes on the table. It keeps going, letting me know it’s not just an incoming text. I grab it, hoping for it to be a call from Sawyer, but my anticipation is tapered immediately as I see Mark’s name flashing across the screen.

  My phone has been a harbinger of both good and bad. I either get a call or text from Parker, Sawyer or Callista, filling me with warmth and joy, or it’s from my father or Mark, making me dread every syllable and word. I steel myself, deciding to take the call this time. I’ve been ignoring him long enough. Maybe he just wants closure, though I thought I made it pretty clear the last time we talked that it was over between us.

  “Hey, Mark. What is it?” I ask, trying to make my voice as care-free as I can.

  “Miss me?”

  “Mark… I thought I told you, we’re over,” I say, my shoulders slumping.

  I guess it was naïve to hope that this could pass over without any additional drama. Silly me.

  “Hey, I don’t know what your sugardaddy is feeding you, but you need to stop ingesting that shit. I know you miss me, baby, and you know what, I’m gonna come see you. Isn’t that good news?”

  There’s laughter in his voice. I sit in stunned silence. This can’t be happening. I used to have to beg for him to come over to my house and now he’s up to taking a six-hour bus ride to Boston because he thinks I miss him? It’s insane.

  “I’m not going to see you again,” I tell him, attempting to sound resolute. “We’re over. It’s done. You need to get over it.”

  A couple of weeks ago, I would have never imagined myself saying something like that to him. I thought Mark was everything I wanted in a man, along with a couple of quirks I didn’t want, but in my mind, he was perfect. It’s only now, when I’m surrounded by real men that I can see what a fool I was. He never even liked me, the only use Mark got out of me was a place
to hang out and a silly girl who was willing to bend over backwards for him, going so far as to steal him money.

  That’s not the woman I intend to be anymore. Not for him, not for anyone.

  “Listen, you little slut,” he hisses on the other end of the line, making me gasp. “I don’t fucking care what you want or what you don’t want. I’m getting on a fucking bus in the next few days, as soon as I get shit taken care of here, and then I’m going to come to Boston and you’re going to hook me up, you hear?

  “I know you’re rolling in dough right now, no harm in sharing a little with your fucking boyfriend, right? Or do you want me to tell your sugardaddy the kind of girl you really are?”

  Instead of responding, I drop the call and swiftly block Mark’s number. My hands are shaking as I wipe any existence of ‘Mark’ or ‘Marlboro’ from my contact list. What might be tears are starting to sting my eyes and I take a deep breath, trying to force them down.

  He’s bluffing. He’s bored. He’ll forget all about me the moment someone drops him some Molly and he’ll find something else to do. Besides, he hasn’t held a job long enough to get enough money for a hot lunch, let alone a bus ticket over here. There’s no way he’ll actually get here and even if he did, how would he find me?

  I rationalize the threat away and I’m just about calming down when the phone buzzes in my hands again and I nearly chuck it into the wall from the surprise. I yelp slightly, then clasp a hand over my mouth, afraid I might wake Parker. It’s only midnight but he crashed like someone had felled lumber, the workweek and the tension of us being around one another and not getting to do everything we want clearly exhausting him.

  I feel the same, but I’ve been banking a lot of naps lately, and I think I’ve been drinking too much coffee. In any case, I’ve barely been able to sleep.

  I let out a breath as I see the caller ID. It’s Sawyer. Scrambling to answer the call, I check my clothing, as if he could see me through the phone pressed to my ear.

  “Look outside,” he tells me the moment I answer.

  I frown but get up from the chair, peeking out the window. There, in the driveway, is his red Ferrari, the headlights on. He looks out of the window and up at me and I wave at him awkwardly.

  “What are you doing here? Does Parker know you’re here?” I ask, keeping my voice a whisper.

  “I’m here to steal you off on a date like he did a couple days ago. Put something on that you think I’d like and come downstairs. Keep it quiet,” Sawyer tells me, using that tone that makes me immediately weak in the knees. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  He ends the call before I can respond. Looking down at the phone, my brow furrows as I bite my lower lip, the urges of being good for Parker and bad for Sawyer battling each other inside of me. Before I really know what my brain decides, my body is moving, going for my closet and tossing through it.

  I find a black dress, simple in cut, but meant to be worn with a shirt underneath. I ditch the shirt, hike up the dress a little around my hips so it comes above my knees, and make sure to put on a bra that makes me look a little less eighteen. I know Sawyer’s waiting, so I don’t mess around too much with make-up, just putting on mascara and a quick shiny lip gloss as well as tossing my auburn hair into loose curls.

  Grabbing a pair of black pumps and a small purse, I sneak out of my room and tiptoe across the second floor and to the stairs. Flashbacks of doing this countless times at home when my mother was asleep to go see Mark go through my head, but I ignore them. This is different, I tell myself. This is for Sawyer. This isn’t bad. Though I hope that maybe it is, if at least a bit…

  I make it down the stairs without waking up Parker and slip out of the house. Only then do I put on my pumps and immediately regret that I didn’t grab a jacket. Still, I’m not going to go back inside for one, so I make a beeline for the Ferrari and with my heart thudding in my throat, I get in. Mark’s the furthest thing from my mind, along with his threatening phone call, when I sit down on the soft leather of the car seat and see the way Sawyer’s looking at me.

  “Not bad,” he tells me with a grin as I fumble with the seatbelt.

  “What were you expecting?” I ask playfully.

  “Who knows? Maybe nothing,” he says, his voice husky and oh so sexy.

  When Parker makes me feel safe, Sawyer has this innate ability to let me know that we’re heading for something equally fun and dangerous whenever we’re together. That’s why I can’t get enough of either of them, to me, they make one whole.

  But I’m damn glad to be spending time alone with each.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as Sawyer backs out of the driveway.

  “Somewhere fun,” he tells me, barely glancing at me.

  My stomach flutters as he places his big palm on my upper thigh, his fingers dangerously close to the hem of my dress and for a mad moment, I wish he’d just keep going.

  Controlling myself around Sawyer and Parker is so damn difficult when we’re at the office, how am I supposed to do it now that there’s no one around to judge me for it?

  Twenty-One

  Sawyer

  The low red lights of the club seem to pulse with more gusto than usual tonight, thrumming right through me along with the music as I bring Cassie into my world.

  It’s dark and it takes the eyes a couple of minutes to adjust so I don’t let go of Cassie’s hand for a second. I know this place well enough. If I let her out of my sight, I might find her in ten minutes, bound to a whipping post, having the time of her life.

  If anyone’s going to be whipping her to an orgasm, it’s going to be me.

  “What is this place?” Cassie asks me in a whisper as we pass a couple dry humping in a public booth, her gorgeous, but decidedly fake tits being groped by another woman.

  I barely hear the question. I smirk to myself. Leave it to Cassie to try and keep decorum in a place like this.

  “This is Club X,” I tell her, failing to unravel the mystery for her further. “As for what it is, you’ll see for yourself.”

  I get a couple of friendly waves or nods of the heads as we walk through the place, but I ignore most of them. Everyone becomes a public figure here if they come often enough, and if they’re good at running scenes. I just happen to have a talent for it.

  Cassie grips my hand tighter and scuttles slightly closer to me, like she’s afraid someone might reach out from the dark, teeming recesses and snatch her away. Come to think of it, that’s exactly like something that might happen. But I doubt she’d mind it after a couple of minutes. Club X has its share of weirdos but most of them agree on one thing – pleasure above all.

  Plus, it’s invite only, so I know there’s not a single person here that doesn’t make at least half a million a year. People like that have more to lose and they keep it strictly consensual, in everything they do. It’s like an internal security unit, because we have to do business with each other outside of here as well more often than not.

  Club X is a large, sprawling space. It has a main bar area and a long corridor that leads to the exhibits, as we call them. Realistically, they’re just play rooms with glass partitions to the main hallway so viewers can come and watch the scene, if the participants are in a giving mood and leave the drapes to the side. A number of larger private rooms take up the back of it and the whole club is nestled away on some of the most expensive loft real estate in Boston.

  I lead Cassie to a table by the large central stage. No one’s on there yet but if I know this place’s schedule, it won’t remain like that for long. We sit down on a couch, a table in front of us, and I motion to Shen at the bar to get us a couple of drinks. He knows my regular – whiskey as usual, and he brings something bright and pink for Cassie.

  Her age must be that obvious to everyone here, but I don’t care. I throw my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to me, kissing her temple protectively.

  “It’s okay, little thing. You’re mine and no one touches Daddy’s girl,�
�� I tell her, meaning it.

  I’m getting far too comfortable with this Daddy shit. In fact, every time I say it, my fucking cock throbs. But I made a pact with Parker that we’d take it slow and that’s what I’m going to have to do. I take a sip of the whiskey and as I’m about to ask Cassie what she thinks of Club X, the lights dim on the stage and the chatter and occasional moans get quieter.

  All eyes are on the stage as a tall, long-legged Amazon of a woman walks out, dressed in black panties, a corset top and black pumps. She stands in the middle of the stage and reaches her arms up above her head demurely, her eyes downcast.

  “Who is she?” Cassie asks, sipping on her drink with wide, interested eyes scanning the stage.

  “That’s Cherry,” I tell her. “She’s very good. The man who will come up behind her is Samuel, her husband. They’re regulars here and I think you’ll like both of them.”

  “Are they going to… You know…”

  “Fuck?” I ask, making her blush a little.

  My bad girl sure has the sensibilities of a good girl sometimes.

  “Yes, they’ll fuck.”

  “And they want us to watch them?”

  “We want to watch them. That’s all they need,” I say, chuckling.

  As if on cue, Samuel walks out. He’s a tall, broad, powerful man with short-cropped black hair and a short beard. He’s a tattoo artist with his own parlor downtown and he’s the man responsible for a couple of my own tats. He’s also the guy who got me into Club X to begin with more than fifteen years ago.

  He pulls off his black V-neck tee before moving over to Cherry and when he runs his rough fingers up her thighs, I feel Cassie squirming against me slightly. Samuel parts Cherry’s legs roughly and when his palm reaches the apex of her legs, Cassie clearly gasps.

  “It’s only starting,” I tell her, Cassie barely finding the time to glance at me, so transfixed is she by what’s happening on the stage.