Doughn’t Let Me Go

by Hunter, Teagan

  A breather? I can’t take a breather.

  Not just because I don’t know how, but because if I take a breather, all the fucked-up shit in my life that I’ve tucked far away in a corner of my mind will swim its way to the forefront.

  “You know I’m not good at relaxing.”

  “I know.” She laughs. “But that was the whole point of you moving out there, wasn’t it? To relax a little, to let go. Start over.”

  “It was,” I agree. “But it’s harder to do than I thought it would be.”

  “It’s really not. Just let go. Go find someone to lose yourself in.”

  Dory.

  Her face instantly pops up in my mind.

  I’d really love to get lost in her.

  “That didn’t go over well last time I tried it.”

  Mel groans. “Don’t remind me of that fiasco. Now that you’re out there on your own, you don’t have any employees to sleep with. Something tells me Fran isn’t your type, and I know you better than to ever think you’d stoop as low as bedding your daughter’s nanny.”

  Oops.

  “Well, actually…”

  “Oh god, Porter. Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t,” I lie, unable to take the disappointment in her voice.

  “How’s it going with her, by the way? Kyrie like her?”

  “Like? Try love. Kyrie is obsessed.” And I might be getting a little obsessed too. “So, yeah, things are pretty great.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that. I just hope you’re not working yourself to the bone like you were here, doing the dad thing and burning the midnight oil. You need to rest if you want this company to keep succeeding like it is.”

  “I need to be in the action if I want that.”

  “Porter.” She says my name on a sigh, and I picture her rubbing her temples. “Look, take the rest of the summer and promise me you’ll actually relax. Then we can re-evaluate at the end of it, okay? Maybe that can just be your vacation home and you’ll wanna come back. Either way, you need to chill for right now.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right.

  Before Kyrie and I moved out here, I was on the verge of a mental breakdown on a good day.

  I was so tired and burned out, and it was taking everything in me to just keep chugging along.

  When Foster suggested I try living out here for a year, it sounded like heaven. I got Kyrie on board and set the plan into motion.

  I do feel different now that I’m here, but I’m such a workaholic that it’s taking a lot of effort to just relax.

  Dory helps, though. She takes the edge off.

  “Porter?”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I hear you, Mel. Let’s re-evaluate then.”

  “Good. Now, go find yourself a new girlfriend. The best way to relax is to orgasm.”

  I groan. “Don’t say orgasm, Mel. You’re like my sister—I don’t need to hear that shit from you.”

  “Orgasm, orgasm, orgasm!”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll chat with you tomorrow. And, Porter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Orgasm.” She giggles, then hangs up.

  With a grin, I toss my cell onto the other end of the leather couch I have up in my office.

  “Orgasm, huh?” I say out loud to nobody.

  I mean, I did feel more relaxed this morning after a night spent with Dory.

  Maybe that’s just what I need—more nights with her.

  Actually, that’s exactly what I need. I need more Dory.

  I just have to convince her we can do this without feelings, and I know she’ll be in because I know she wants this too.

  Rising from the couch, I stomp down the stairs with a plan in mind.

  I’m going to convince Dory to have meaningless sex with me.

  I just hope I can hold up my end of the bargain.

  Slice Fourteen

  Doris

  “Let’s not kiss.”

  It’s the second night in a row Porter has showed up at my door unannounced.

  Last night when he came knocking, I was already awake and had to mess up my hair and rub my eyes to make it look like I’d been sleeping.

  But I hadn’t. Wasn’t even close to it.

  All I could do was lie in bed and think about our night of drinking where I begged him to kiss me and he wouldn’t.

  I wanted to forget about it. I was utterly embarrassed he shot me down. I meant my words at the time when I told him I wanted to forget all about it.

  Then the more I lay there and thought on it, the more I understood and didn’t want to forget.

  Porter said no because he’s a good guy. He’s respectful. He cares.

  And caring is a lot like feelings.

  Which is why when he showed up last night, I should have shoved him away. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me.

  But I did.

  I couldn’t let another day go by without knowing how it feels to kiss him.

  And it felt…like everything.

  “What?”

  “Let’s not kiss. It’s what I wanted to say to you earlier.”

  “Okay…” I draw the word out. “What are you getting at?”

  “Kissing means feelings, right?”

  I nod. “Right.”

  “Then let’s not do it. Let’s not bring feelings into this. Let’s just fuck to get this out of our systems.”

  “Porter…” I start. “We live together. I’m your daughter’s nanny. Don’t you think it’s going to be hard to keep feelings out of this even if we don’t kiss?”

  “Not if we don’t overthink it. If you don’t kiss me, you can’t fall for me.”

  “Because you’re a really good kisser,” I murmur, recalling the first night we met.

  “Just remember, Dory, you’re not allowed to fall for me.”

  “Fall for you?”

  “I’m a really good kisser.”

  “I won’t get attached if you don’t.”

  I’m a pro at not kissing.

  The problem? Now I know what his lips feel like. Now I know how they make me feel. Which is really, really good.

  How can I go back to not kissing him?

  “Besides, I don’t have to touch your mouth to kiss you, if you get my drift.”

  I blush at his insinuation and rub my legs together like I can feel him there. He’s really good at kissing me and not touching my mouth.

  Porter’s grinning, but I see the fear in his eyes. He wants to do this because he likes being with me as much as I like being with him, but he doesn’t want to hurt Kyrie if things go wrong.

  And like me, he doesn’t want to get hurt if things go wrong.

  Which they inevitably will.

  When I told him that yesterday, I meant it. I’ve watched too many relationships that start out with good intentions go south. Porter has too, including his own.

  But if we don’t kiss, there are no feelings, and we all win.

  Simple, right?

  Then why does it feel like we’re walking a very precarious line here?

  Because we are.

  “Por—”

  “Don’t say no, Dory.” He crowds me into the room, sweeping an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him and closing my door all at the same time. “Don’t say no. Let’s do this. No kissing. No feelings. Just sex.”

  His mouth is saying one thing, but his eyes are saying another.

  Even with that knowledge, the dumbest thing I could ever say drops from my lips.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  It’s been one week of sneaking around and we haven’t broken our rule yet.

  No kissing. Just sex.

  We spend our nights wrapped together and our days keeping our hands to ourselves.

  No feelings. No attachments.

  It truly is the perfect situation.

  We don’t go out of our way to keep our distance from each other when we’re not in the bedroom, a
nd it’s never awkward around Kyrie.

  It’s comfortable, natural. We just…are.

  I’m sure if I spent more time thinking about it, I’d probably think it was all too easy.

  But we’re not overthinking it.

  It’s one of our rules.

  No kissing. No overthinking. Just sex.

  “There are my favorite ladies,” Porter says smoothly, padding into the living room.

  My heart races.

  No feelings. No attachments. Just sex.

  “We’ve been invited to an impromptu shindig at Winston and Drew’s.”

  “Is baby Riker going to be there?” Kyrie asks, not looking up from the coloring book she’s had her nose buried in for the last hour.

  “Of course. He lives there.”

  “Then I guess I’ll go.”

  “You guess?” Porter plops down on the couch, pushing at Kyrie’s arm with his foot. “Don’t mess up, don’t mess up.”

  “Dad! You bunghole!”

  “She can say bunghole?” I whisper to him.

  “It’s better than asshole.” He shrugs. “Go get dressed. Beachwear.”

  “We’re going to the beach?” Kyrie shouts. “Why didn’t you say so?” She jumps up, tossing her colored pencil down like it offended her. “Woohoo! Beach boys, here I come!”

  She blazes out of the living room.

  “Beach boys?” Porter says to me as he scowls after his daughter. “I do not like the sound of that.”

  I stifle a laugh. “She’s at that age.”

  “Really? I wasn’t interested in girls until I was like twelve.”

  “That’s because girls mature faster than boys.”

  “That so?” He scoots off the couch and onto the floor next to me, grabbing me and pulling me into his lap. “Who told you that nonsense?”

  “Science.” I laugh as he buries his face into my neck, tickling the spot he knows drives me nuts. “Everyone knows it.”

  “I don’t know it. Sounds like something you just made up.”

  He darts his tongue out, licking me, and I moan.

  Loudly.

  “Porter…” I say as I feel him harden beneath me.

  “Dory…”

  “Stop it. Your daughter could walk back in any—”

  “I’m ready!”

  Kyrie’s footsteps echo down the hall as she sprints her way back to us.

  Which is how I end up hiding under the table as Porter pops up onto his knees, looking over the back of the couch and using it as a blockade for his obvious erection.

  “Stop right there, missy,” Porter says before she can get too close. I can’t see what he’s doing as I try to make myself as small as possible right now. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

  Kyrie exhales loudly. “Ugh. Dad!”

  “Don’t you ‘Dad’ me. The last thing I want to deal with is a sunburned kid. Remember last time you promised you reapplied and didn’t?”

  I can hear her audible gulp. “I was a lobster.”

  “The cutest lobster I’ve ever seen, but a lobster nonetheless. So, go. Lots and lots of sunscreen.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Her feet retreat down the hall, and he lets out a relieved breath.

  “Holy crap.” I exhale heavily. “That was close.”

  Porter turns around on the couch, sitting back and doing his best to get his own breathing under control. “So close.”

  I slide myself out from under the table and onto my knees. “We probably shouldn’t chance that again.”

  “Right.” He nods. “Definitely not.” A slow, sly grin inches across his face. “But…” He draws the word out, spreading his thighs even wider. “While you’re down there, mind taking care of this little problem I have?”

  I half laugh, half groan at his attempt.

  Using his knees as leverage, I push myself up until I’m still leaning over him.

  Then I flick the tip of his dick, and he seizes up in pain.

  “What the…” He lets out a whole string of curses. “That is not what I meant, you devil.”

  “I barely tapped you, you horny baby. A warning for trying to get me to suck your dick with your daughter in the other room.”

  “I hate you,” he mutters, but I know he doesn’t.

  He knows I’m right. It was a dick move.

  I lean down so my lips are tracing over his ear and I flick my tongue out against it.

  “Doris,” he groans, and I know he’s fighting the urge to pull me back down onto his lap.

  “I’m going to go get ready,” I say, still letting my lips rest against him. “You won’t mind if I wear a bikini, right?”

  He pulls away, glowering at me, but I see the spark of lust in his eyes.

  “Hey, you’re the one who started it on the floor. I’m just finishing it.”

  I push away from him, making sure to put an extra sway in my hips as I walk away.

  “This isn’t over!” he calls after me.

  His voice is laced with nothing but sexual promises.

  I can’t wait.

  * * *

  Much to Porter’s relief, I don’t wear a bikini.

  I put one on and promptly decided there was no way I was going to parade around in front of him in it because the likelihood of him keeping his hands off me would be very low.

  Not to be cocky, but Porter hardly ever shuts up about my tits and my curves, and both were definitely on display in the tiny two-piece.

  Besides, there’s something I like about letting him be the only one to see my body.

  “I’m so glad you guys were able to make it,” Drew says from beside me. She hands me a water bottle, which I gladly accept. “Especially since this was last minute. This summer has been flying by and we haven’t had a get-together yet, so I figured why the hell not today?”

  “Thank you for inviting us. Well, them. I guess I’m just a tagalong, really.”

  She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Don’t act like you mean nothing to them.”

  “I’m just the nanny.”

  Drew gives me a look that tells me she doesn’t believe that for one second. “Right, and I’m running for president.”

  “You’d be a terrifying president,” Wren says, plopping down next to us. “But I’d still totally vote for you,” she adds when Drew glares at her.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Drew takes a drink of her water, and I’m so glad Wren is here to distract her because I’d really rather not be under her scrutiny right now. When she looked at me a moment ago, it was like she peered into my mind and saw all the dirty things Porter and I have been doing.

  Unless she has some secret superpower, it’s not possible. I know this.

  But still, the worry is there.

  “So, tell us, Doris, how’s the sex?”

  I spit my water out and then there’s a hand on my back, thumping three times as I choke to death.

  The girls stare at me expectantly as I suck in gulps of air.

  “Sorry. Wrong pipe.”

  “Right. Sure.” Drew laughs. “I bet Porter knows exactly what the right pipe is.”

  “Drew Amanda Woods!”

  “That’s not even my middle name and you know it.”

  “You’re right—Drew Eunice Woods!” Wren amends with the exact same tone and volume.

  She’s loud enough to draw the attention of the boys, who are a little way down the beach with the kids and the dogs.

  She shoos them with her hand, and they all turn back to whatever it is they’re doing, likely trying to keep Riker from eating sand.

  “Spill the deets,” Wren pushes. “I wanna hear all about this.”

  “I, um, I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” I say meekly.

  “Bullshit,” Drew says. “I know a secret bang when I see one. Trust me, I used to sneak around with Winston.”

  “You did?”

  She nods, and Wren groans.

  “Okay, but let’s not go into detail
s,” Wren begs, lips curled in disgust. “Winston isn’t just my brother, he’s my twin.”

  “You say that like it’s worse to hear about his sex life just because you’re twins.”

  “It is worse,” Wren argues. “You wouldn’t get it, though. It’s a—”

  “Twin thing,” Drew finishes, speaking like she’s heard that a million times before, and she probably has. “Whatever. I’m just sayin’ I know a sneak-around when I see it. And”—she points a finger at me and then down the beach at Porter—“you two are sneaking around.”

  My cheeks heat up and I try ducking my head.

  Which, in retrospect, is really stupid, because I’ve practically just admitted my guilt.

  “Ha! I knew it!” she shouts victoriously.

  Wren shrugs. “I’ve known longer.”

  Drew turns to her, jaw slack. “No you haven’t.”

  Another shrug from Wren. “I have too. Foster told me.”

  “Son of a…” I mutter. “That asshole.”

  Wren barks out a laugh and Drew looks between us, confused.

  “Are either of you going to elaborate?”

  I groan, and Wren waves a hand my way as if to say Take it away.

  I chug the rest of my water and scrub my hands over my legs, trying to rub away the sudden nerves I’m feeling.

  Apparently they both already know—or they think they do—and are comfortable with the idea, but telling them makes it real.

  “You don’t have to tell us, you know,” Drew says quietly.

  “I know, but I’d rather you hear the truth than draw conclusions like I’m sleeping with him because of the benefits of the job or something.”

  They both give me an equally disgusted look.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult us both like that,” Wren says. “Because we would never think that.”

  “I loathe admitting when she’s right, but what she said.”

  Wren smacks away Drew’s outstretched finger and it turns into a slapping match.

  “It was a one-night stand.”

  The girls stop at my sudden admission, both now staring at me with rapt attention.