FIRST LOVE_A Single Dad Second Chance Romance

by Scarlet Wilder

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Put this on,” I said. “Do as you’re told.”

  I continued to kiss her, licking at her lips and tongue, as I tied the tie over her eyes like a blindfold. I pulled down her blouse and then the cami, so she stood there in her suit pants and bra. God, she looked ravishingly sexy. I teased her, flicking my tongue against her lips then pulling away as she searched for me with her mouth. Then I held her face and brought my mouth to her ear.

  “Get on your knees,” I said.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, but she obeyed me without hesitation. She kneeled, running her hands along the legs of my pants to the ground, and she waited, licking her lips, as I held the back of her head and moved my dick across her face, first one cheek, and then the other. She moved her head, trying to catch me in her mouth, but I moved out of the way, teasing her, grinning, until she reached up, held my dick in her hands firmly, and then opened her mouth and swallowed me whole.

  Disappearing into the delicious heat of her mouth made me throw back my head and groan; at that moment, I didn’t give a fuck if anyone heard me. Elle’s beautiful lips were around my cock, and she was moving her mouth up and down the shaft, stroking me with her long fingers as she did so, and I wasn’t about to waste a second thinking about whether we were being listened to.

  Without the use of her eyes, she could only use her fingers, and her mouth, and she sucked me with sensual determination. I looked down at her breasts moving up and down with every stroke. God, I needed to claim her, needed to make her mine once more, and do what I should have done the night of the function when she’d teased me all evening in that beautiful red dress.

  I reached down and lifted her to her feet and kissed her. “Get your pants off,” I ordered, and she kicked off her shoes, dropped her pants, and I wrenched the blindfold from her face. My shirt was unbuttoned, my pants sitting on my hips, but now wasn’t the time to slowly undress each other. Now was the time for me to have her, right here and now, on the boardroom table. I lifted her up and sat her on the cherry wood, kicking a leather chair out of the way. She lay back, holding onto my cock and stroking me until I pulled away from her and tugged at her panties.

  Yanking her underwear down to her thighs, I held her legs together, up high, my arms wrapped around her thighs as I entered her, hard and fast. She gasped, her fingertips squeaking against the wood as she tried to grab onto something, but there was nothing for her to grab onto. She didn’t need to worry, though, because I wasn’t about to let her go. I held onto her legs and hips and fucked her, and she moved back and forth on the table until she cried out and panted that she was going to come, and then I felt her gush all over me and the table.

  Her moans were loud and frantic, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to try and stop the moans, but she couldn’t. With gritted teeth, I leaned over her, thrusting into her two, three, four more times until I joined her in her orgasm, pumping my seed so deeply into her I was sure there was nothing left inside me.

  With desperate, panting breaths, we half-sat, half-lay across the table together, until we recovered enough to try and get up. I tucked myself back into my underwear and zipped my pants back up, and Elle pulled up her underwear and leaped off the table for some paper towels to soak up the vestiges of our pleasure.

  “Shit,” she muttered as she stumbled. “My legs are so weak!”

  Still trying to regain our breath, we redressed as well as we could, and I pointed to Elle’s blouse, where two holes stood in place of buttons, buttons which I knew were somewhere in the large boardroom. “Sorry about that,” I said. “But if you insist on coming in here and looking that good, then you can expect me to respond accordingly.”

  She grinned, adjusting her hair. “I might pop by more often,” she said. “Dammit, I’m still really wet and I’ve got to get into your car again.”

  “You came in my car?” I asked, feigning indignation. “How dare you.”

  “And I ate your apple crisp cereal for breakfast this morning, too,” she said, teasing me. “What’s yours are mine, right?”

  I held her face and kissed her. “You know it’s true,” I said. “I know it’s a confusing time for both of us, but just know that whenever I’m with you, and it’s just the two of us, it’s real. I promise. Very, very real.”

  She nodded. “I guess it’s new for both of us,” she said. “And maybe I should be stronger, but I seem to have a problem being strong whenever I’m around you.”

  “I’ll take you for dinner tonight,” I said. “Somewhere out of the house. Out of the state, even. I’ll charter a plane. Where do you want to go? London? Paris? These days I’m not just flying around in a shitty little helicopter. Private jet all the way.”

  Grinning, she shook her head. “Nothing could be better than the night we went into the city that time,” she said. “I wonder if that Italian place your mom likes is still open.”

  “I’ll have Jennifer check,” I said. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”

  “I’d like to get home a little earlier and spend some time with Lizzie before bed,” I said. “Tonight’s the first time in a long time that I don’t have to stay late.”

  Elle fastened the jacket of her suit to cover up the holes in her blouse. She slipped her feet into her shoes and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Well, see you later,” she said, and I watched her walk out.

  I poured myself a glass of water, downing it when I noted how thirsty I was. It’s not every day that I get such a workout in my own boardroom. Not that I was complaining. Since coming back into my life, Elle continued to surprise me. I wasn’t sure I knew exactly what I was doing, but all I knew was that I didn’t want it to stop.

  And, I knew, neither did she.

  25

  ________

  ELLE

  I picked up the heavy scissors and carefully cut along the gingham cloth. I’d spied the beautiful baby blue material online and had immediately ordered it before it could go out of stock. It was extremely well-made Egyptian cotton, woven with such care and expertise that it managed to be both heavy and durable, but cool for the summer. It was the perfect material for a baby.

  By the middle of July, Lizzie was nine weeks old and filling out nicely. She had the most adorable chubby thighs, her skin soft and free of any blemishes. Her dark hair stuck up comically in the mornings and made me laugh when I went into the nursery to pick her up from her crib. It was Helena’s job, of course, and I knew it, but I couldn’t wait to see her when I woke up every morning. She’d look up at me and give me a wide, toothless grin and would kick her legs with joy.

  That morning, I’d lifted her up and taken her back to bed with me. With us. Liam had spent another night in my room, and it had been hours until we’d fallen asleep. We talked about anything and everything, punctuating our conversations with kisses, which inevitably turned more passionate until we couldn’t resist each other any longer. He lay on top of me and entered me within seconds, and although I was sure that I couldn’t want him any more that night, it wasn’t long before I craved him once more, and I straddled him, crying out for him again.

  Helena knocked on the door and asked to take Lizzie, but we sent her away. She came back with a bottle of milk and her changing bag, and Liam and I fed, bathed and clothed the little girl together.

  Later, Edward was the one to knock, and on opening the door we were presented with our own breakfast.

  I was always a little shy to let the staff in the house see Liam and me together in the same bedroom, but they were always so warm and loving, as though I’d been in the house for all time, as though it was my house. I didn’t catch any unfriendly glances nor was I made to feel unwelcome. I mentioned this to Liam as I came back to bed and he handed me a piece of buttered toast.

  “Of course they’re friendly,” Liam said, taking a hungry bite of his own toast. “They love you.”

  “They can’t possibly lo
ve me,” I said. “They don’t know me.”

  “They know that I trust you, and that’s good enough for them,” Liam said. “Can you pour me some coffee, please?”

  While Lizzie lay on her back between us, I carefully poured half a cup of hot coffee and passed it to Liam. I leaned back and ate my breakfast, watching as the little girl between us kicked her legs in the air, content with simply lying and looking at the ceiling. I liked to think that she knew we were there, both of us together, and she had nothing to fear in the world.

  I must have had a strange look on my face because Liam glanced over at me and seemed confused as he picked up a second piece of toast. This time, he also picked up a knife and spread raspberry jelly on it. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Don’t you think this is a little… weird?” I asked. “I mean, here we are, waking up in the morning together, with your baby between us, like… well, like…”

  “Like a family?” Liam offered.

  “Yes,” I said, quietly. “Like a family.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “You know, we’ve hardly stuck to the plan,” I said. “Here I am, and I’m wearing this rock of a diamond on my finger whenever I go outside, and I’m living in this house, as per the agreement of the fake engagement, but I’m having sex with you and eating breakfast in bed with you and your daughter’s grinning at the two of us as if she knows something I don’t.”

  “Well, I’ve got my baby, and a beautiful woman, and a good breakfast all at the same time,” Liam said, handing me his empty coffee cup. “I’m certainly not complaining. Fill her up.”

  Now, I wasn’t complaining either, but as much as I held my tongue, I wanted to talk about it. Wanted to see where on earth we were going. Were we even going anywhere? Since the day in his office, he’d come home every evening and we’d had dinner together. After dinner, he worked a little while I amused myself either with my own work or with Lizzie. Sometimes we’d watch a movie together, and we’d sit snuggled up on the couch with a bottle of red wine.

  Every night, when it was time to go to bed, we went our separate ways at the top of the stairs, but within a few moments, Liam was at my door and most of the time, he didn’t bother knocking. We couldn’t get enough of one another, and we were back to being eighteen years old, walking hormones who wanted sex whenever we could get it.

  It wasn’t just the physical side of things, though, or being close to him. It was the intimacy in the little things that I took for granted until I sat and thought about them. When he left for work in the morning I hated it. I held Lizzie and rocked her, telling her that Daddy would be home soon. Sometimes I’d wake up to a note by the bed, with a passage from a famous book. Sometimes the book itself would be waiting for me. When I took a break from working, I’d sit by the pool and read whatever he’d left me, devouring every single word.

  Now that the story about the engagement had broken, and the initial craziness had died down, we settled down to something resembling a normal life together, and I was beginning to love it. I never wanted it to end.

  I didn’t wear the ring when I was alone. I was already paranoid about having such an expensive piece of jewelry on my finger whenever I left the house, and I had visions of losing it in the pool or seeing it disappear down the drain when I showered. When I mentioned this to Liam, he wasn’t concerned at all.

  “It’s fully insured,” he said. “If you lose it, you lose it. Don’t worry about it.”

  The ring was the only thing that meant nothing to me. I knew the statement it made, but I found it gaudy and tasteless. I had to remind myself to put it on when I went out, and I made sure, as Liam had requested, at the behest of his publicist, Stephen, to show it off as much as I could. It didn’t matter if I wore sunglasses that covered my eyes or even wrapped a scarf around my face, as long as the ring was on show.

  After breakfast, Liam went into the shower and I took Lizzie downstairs and handed her to Helena. They were apparently spending the morning at a baby group where there was a weekly sensory class. There, Lizzie was introduced to bright, vivid colors and playful music, all intended to stimulate her brain. Helena attended as Mrs. March, a new mom with her little girl. Nobody was any the wiser about Lizzie’s true parentage. To expose her in that way would have put her in a situation no three-month-old baby deserved. I still had trouble with it myself at times.

  In my studio, I pinned the blue gingham material together in the shape of a dress, and carefully machine-stitched along the hem, finishing off with some small hand stitches. I documented each step of the process, uploading the pictures to my Facebook account. It was exciting to see how many hits I was getting online and how many lovely comments people were leaving. The most exciting part, though, were the questions people were asking about where on earth they could order such beautiful clothes.

  I’d always seen myself as designing for adults, but the more outfits I made for Lizzie, the more I loved designing for her. She was the perfect model, of course, because she looked beautiful in anything, but while I snapped photographs of her in the clothes and sent them to Liam, I kept them off my website.

  As I was measuring the dress’s collar, I thought I heard hurried footsteps coming towards me, and I was right, because they were followed by a knock at the door. I opened it to find Eddie standing there. He gave a little bow of his head.

  “Mister Wilde has asked that you please join him in the study,” he said.

  “Sure,” I said, putting down the scissors. “What’s wrong?”

  But Edward, ever the professional, wouldn’t let me in on anything. I had to half-walk, half-run past the pool into the house, and down the hallway to the study. When I walked in after giving a light knock, I was surprised to see Liam sitting at his desk, his face grave. Beside him stood Larry, whose presence immediately made my skin crawl. Then there was the publicist, Stephen, sitting in a chair and reading through some papers.

  “You wanted to see me?” I asked.

  Liam nodded. “Sit down, please,” he said. “I wanted you to hear this because you need to know what’s going on.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Larry’s face curl into a sneer, but I ignored it. “Okay,” I said. “What is it?”

  Stephen handed me a piece of paper from the left, and I looked at it. It all seemed very official, and I couldn’t understand it at first. It involved some kind of legal petition, to move for ownership of something called Cristal.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “What’s Cristal? Is it a company?”

  Liam shook his head. “It’s Elizabeth,” he said. “Cristal’s the name her mom gave her before she came to me. That’s a letter from a lawyer in Texas. Apparently, Melanie’s had a change of heart.”

  The blood in my veins ran cold. “Can she do that?”

  Larry made a grunt. “She wants cash, not the kid,” he said. “That letter’s not worth the paper it’s written on. I doubt it’s even come from a real lawyer. But she’s asking for money and threatening to file for custody of the kid if she doesn’t get it.”

  “Of Lizzie,” I murmured.

  “What was that?” Larry asked.

  I looked up at him. “Custody of Lizzie. Not the kid.”

  He looked as though I’d just slapped his face, but I didn’t care. I was sick of the way he spoke. I looked at Liam. “Surely she can’t be serious?”

  “From what I can see, things aren’t working out for her the way she thought they would,” Liam said. “She quit her job as a personal trainer and went to be a backup dancer for some new up-and-coming singer. I don’t think it’s what she thought it would be and now she’s broke. But I’m happy to give her the money if it means she backs off.”

  “And I think it’s a dangerous game, to start giving money to a woman who knows you’re a bottomless well of cash,” countered Larry. “Whatever you give her, it won’t be enough.”

  Liam slammed his hand on the table. “I don’t care what she wants. She’s not tak
ing my daughter from me.”

  I gave the paper back to Stephen and looked at the detestable lawyer. “Liam knows what’s best for him and Lizzie,” I said. “It’s his money. If that’s what motivates this woman, then she clearly doesn’t have Lizzie’s best interests at heart.”

  “I think perhaps the fake fiancée needs to understand we know the business a little better than she does,” Larry said to Liam, but Liam barely heard him. He looked so devastated, so rattled by the news that I wanted to go over, wrap my arms around him, and tell him everything was going to be okay.

  “If it’s money she wants, she can have it,” Liam said, sighing. “But she takes my daughter away from me over my dead body.”

  I leaned forward and took hold of his hand, reaching over the desk. “You won’t lose her,” I said. “Together, we’ll fight Melanie. Can’t you counter with legal papers of your own? She left a note practically relinquishing all parental rights.”

  “If I file, then it all goes public,” Liam said. “That’s not what I want.”

  “In fact, it might not be the worst thing in the world if it does go public,” Stephen said. “We can use this. By unveiling this woman for who she is and showing how much you’ll fight for the baby, it only serves to endear people to you further. The shareholders included.”

  Liam’s gaze was steely, and I could see the focus in his eyes, the determination coming back once more.

  “I don’t give a shit about endearing people,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “But she’s already proven who she is. She’s an unfit parent. If I hand my daughter back, I’m no better a father than she is a mother.”

  He looked up at Larry. “Do whatever you have to do. Lizzie’s going nowhere.”

  26

  ________