Frost (EEMC)

by Hunter, Bijou

  Lowell frowns at my words, thinking I’m an idiot. “How would I? I didn’t even know Needy was pregnant, let alone that she thought you were mine.”

  “Did you know your father?” I ask, turning around and tugging my jacket closed as the wind picks up.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I didn’t. I just heard stories about how he was this powerful, handsome, smart man. When I was little, I kept thinking you would show up and find me. That seems dumb to you because you knew your dad. Mine was a fantasy built up in my head. When I was staring at you and thinking you’d recognize me, I was still thinking like that kid. Conor helped remind me that I’m an adult, and the real world doesn’t work that way.”

  “I would have helped Needy, but she just left.”

  “Don’t put that on her,” I mutter, refusing to let him play the good guy. “Someone threatened her when she came up pregnant. She said it wasn’t you, but she wasn’t safe here.”

  “Who did she say it was?”

  “I think you know,” I reply, letting my temper take charge rather than my childish broken heart. “Think back twenty-odd years ago and who would have told a pregnant bunny to fuck off. I don’t really care who that was, but you know. So, don’t waste time talking shit about my mom. Needy probably should have told you, but she thought someone would fucking kill her if she stayed. That’s not on her.”

  “I never said it was,” he grumbles, and I see a hint of his temper.

  “You implied it. Like you’re the good guy who would have made everything peachy, while she was the cunt that ran off.”

  “I never said that.”

  His temper feeds mine, and I’m not sure either of us wants to see how far we can take this hot-blooded shit.

  “Why didn’t you say anything when you got here?” he asks, wanting answers he already has.

  “Because I was afraid you’d look at me like you did last night. I chickened out. Besides, I figured you’d psychically know or something.”

  “Well, I know now.”

  “And that’s good. I needed to prove my mom was right. But things have changed.”

  “Changed, how?” he asks, suspicious now.

  “I came here for two reasons. One, to see the man I dreamed of for years. Two, for protection. That first one hasn’t worked out, and the second one is handled for now.”

  “Protection from what?” he asks, zeroing in on the thing he’s good at.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m staying in Elko now for Conor. If he and I don’t work out, I know where I’m going.”

  “Is there some kind of decoder ring to make sense of what you’re saying?”

  “I was running from someone,” I say slowly as if he’s a moron, and I’m the teenage bitch he missed out on raising. “I wanted my daddy to save me. Now, I realize that’s not happening. I have a boyfriend who might help. If we break up, I have a new plan. How fucking complicated is that?”

  “Running from who?”

  “I said it doesn’t matter.”

  “Then why bring it up?”

  “Because you wanted to know why I was here, and I suspected you assumed it was money. I could get plenty of that back home. I wanted safety. Conor offers me that. You can just do whatever you were doing before last night.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” he says, crossing his arms and leveling his irritated, dark-eyed gaze at me. “You show up here and keep your secret for weeks. You could have taken me aside or told Jena. There were a million ways to handle shit. Instead, you took a job that would have conceivably ended up with me wanting to fuck you. Then, you act like a weirdo stalker until my wife goes psycho and makes a scene. At which time, your chicken ass gets honest. Then, I don’t immediately weep with joy that a woman I fucked decades ago secretly had my kid. So, now I’m the bad guy?”

  I nearly back down under the weight of his anger. “Why does anyone have to be the bad guy?”

  “They don’t.”

  “But you’re saying I am. Or Needy is,” I say, getting my back up and raising my voice. “You’re saying we’re the bad guys because we’ve inconvenienced you. You’re not pointing fingers at the person who sent away a scared, young woman who was pregnant with your kid. You’re not blaming them for this inconvenience, let alone for you missing out on knowing me. You think I’m the idiot for not having the courage to be honest when it was more convenient for you.”

  A frustrated Lowell rubs his bearded jaw roughly. He knew I was coming here. Why didn’t he come up with better shit to say? Will he blame me for that, too? Or his wife for inviting us? Or maybe that’s also my mom’s fault?

  “I don’t know what you want,” he says, sighing.

  “I wanted you to love me and be my dad like the other kids got,” I say, and my voice breaks. “I wanted all the stupid stuff I wanted when I was a kid. I wanted you to save me and make the world comfortable. But those are stupid things, and they’re never going to happen. I realized that last night and wanted to leave Elko. Then, Conor asked me to stay, and I couldn’t tell him no. Now, I don’t want to leave because he’s Conor, and I want to see what he does next.”

  I glance into the house, where Conor stares out at us. His overly intense expression makes me smile. He’s such a ham, but he knows I’m sinking, and his cool vibe is my lifejacket.

  “I’m sorry, Monroe, but this shit happened too fast,” Lowell says, sensing I’m about to walk away. “I’m not a guy that has kids show up. I don’t know how to process all this shit. If you need help or money, I’ll offer it. But you have to give me a chance to adjust.”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “Or we can act like none of this happened. That’s what you really want.”

  “You don’t know what I want since you don’t know me. You just know what your mom told you.”

  Hearing him mention Needy relights my temper. “I noticed how you referred to my being in your life as ‘this shit’ twice. That’s how it feels to you. You’re trapped in this horrible situation and can’t escape. Well, I’m offering you an exit. I knew since last night that what I wanted from you wasn’t happening. Finding out Needy was telling the truth is enough of a prize for all this inconvenience.”

  “Stop using that word.”

  “Or what?” I ask, frowning at him in the way I did with Uncle Clive when I felt suicidal. “You can’t kill me because of Conor.”

  “Why would I want to kill you?”

  “Like you said, I don’t know you.”

  “I feel as if you’re pissed and looking to start shit.”

  “I feel as if you’re doing the same thing. The only reason I’m here is that Topanga invited me. That’s why you’re acting awkward and pissy.”

  “You’re the one acting pissy. However, I’ll own up to the awkward thing.”

  “I want to go back inside and make nice with Topanga and then leave.”

  “Why make nice with her?” he asks, suspicious once again.

  “Because she has a big mouth and a strong personality. I know Conor’s mom will hate me, so I figure I shouldn’t make Topanga an enemy.”

  “Why would Barbie hate you?”

  “I’m fucking her son. Is she usually super nice to the women that her only son jizzes inside?”

  Okay, now I’m actively trying to screw with Lowell. I’ll own up to that fact as much as he owned up to his awkwardness. What do I care, though? Maybe I could pretend he wasn’t full of shit with his nice-guy routine if he made a real effort to sell the lie. Of course, he can’t, though. Having me as a daughter grosses him out that fucking much.

  I walk past Lowell and toward the door where Conor still wears his silly, overly serious face. When I open the door, he allows a smile.

  “Have you ever missed me more than these last few minutes?” he whispers after leaning down to nuzzle my ear.

  I turn my head, so my lips slide across his. The brief touch awakens something in his green eyes. Underneath the teasing demeanor burns a darker need.

  “Can we
leave?”

  “No,” he says, holding my gaze. “Topanga wants to talk about the party, and Dunning will soon emerge from his room like a groundhog and share how long winter will be.”

  When I look into Conor’s bedroom eyes, life is a wonderland, and I’m its queen. But the world doesn’t reside in Conor. Billions of other people exist. The majority don’t give a shit if I live or die. While a handful would be happiest with the latter result.

  “Dunning, come over and meet Monroe,” Topanga announces, her voice echoing in the two-story family room.

  I think to mention how we’ve already met but talking to Lowell zapped my energy.

  “We met,” Dunning says, shuffling over to me.

  My little brother is close to six feet already. His body looks older than seventeen, but he still has a soft, young face.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Topanga says, playing with the boy’s messy dark blond hair before forcing him into a hug. “Want to say hello to your sister?”

  “Hello, Monroe.”

  “Hello, Dunning.”

  “No need to be awkward,” Topanga says. “You two are blood.”

  “I’m not awkward. I got lucky,” he mutters at his mother. “Summer ended up with a baby half-sister who cries and shits her pants. I got one that’s already potty trained.”

  “Glass half full,” Topanga says, nodding. “He gets that from me.”

  “So, is she moving in here?”

  “No,” I say, sending Topanga’s big lips downward.

  “Why not? Better than at the apartment with the bunnies.”

  “I like my apartment and my roommate. We play ping pong and have movie nights.”

  Topanga frowns at my words. Maybe it’s my tone. I sound like a sullen teenager.

  “We have a pool table,” Topanga says.

  “Fair point,” Conor interrupts. “So many great points, really, but I think you’re jumping over a few steps.”

  “And what would those be?” Topanga asks, losing her smile.

  “Monroe just got settled into the Overlook. She’s living on her own for the first time. Lots of chick time with the bunnies. Now, you want her to move again. Sounds like she’ll end up feeling bitchy in your house.”

  “Yeah, I don’t need that,” Dunning announces. “Where would she even sleep?”

  “In one of the guest rooms.”

  “Pick the basement,” Dunning tells me. “More privacy.”

  “I have my own room at the Overlook.”

  “Yes, but those are for the bunnies,” Topanga says, pretending to be friendly but clearly irritated about my pushback. “You’re Lowell’s daughter and Conor’s honey.”

  “True, true,” Conor says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “We’re very hot for each other. It’s why you need to turn down the heater. Our animal magnetism is setting the place on fire.”

  “Laying it on thick, aren’t you?” Dunning asks and walks to the kitchen. “Don’t knock up my sister right away. I don’t want more little kids around.”

  “Can I leave?” I ask Topanga. “I’m tired, and I want to leave.”

  “Rude,” Dunning says, snickering.

  Topanga can’t decide whether to reprimand her son or me. Then, Lowell enters behind us, and I see her working out how he wants me gone, too.

  “I know you two lovebirds want to play snuggles,” she says, pretending that’s why she’s cool with us taking off. “But keep your phone on. I’ll be in touch.”

  Nodding, I stay close to Conor as he grabs our food bags and struts toward the door. I consider looking back at Lowell, but that seems like a bonehead move. He’s probably frowning ugly. Why imprint that image in my mind?

  Lowell calls out as we reach the door, “Conor, show up at Bronco’s tomorrow by ten. We’re having a meeting.”

  Without looking back, Conor nods and opens the door. Once outside, he stashes the food in the storage unit on his motorcycle.

  “Good?” he asks as I climb on behind him.

  Nodding, I shove my head into the helmet and wrap my arms tighter around his muscular waist. As we speed out of the Woodlands and head next door to the Overlook, I make the decision to ditch my failed fantasy of a super daddy and instead focus on the more enticing reality that Conor offers.

  PART 4: FUCKING IS FUN

  CONOR

  Monroe hums a song against my lips as we kiss in the elevator on the way to her apartment. She even humps my leg to the song’s beat. She must reach the chorus when the doors open, explaining why she shimmies and shakes her sexy ass down the hallway.

  “I can’t wait to get you naked,” she murmurs as we step inside her apartment. “I’ve noticed many curves on your fine body. I’m looking to nibble on these two sweet cheeks,” she says, reaching around to cup my ass.

  “You’re too pushy. I need to be romanced, Monroe.”

  A leisurely smile warms her face. Monroe winks at me and begins to dance around the room to what I assume is another song playing in her head. I shut the door and wonder what her devious grin means.

  Soon, she appears from the kitchen, wearing only her T-shirt and panties. In her hand is a pink carnation.

  “You’re so beautiful, baby,” she says, imitating what men have told her before. “So sexy and sweet. Can’t I get just a taste?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, what if you don’t respect me in the morning?” I ask, batting my lashes as I toss my jacket on the chair. “I don’t want you thinking I’m easy.”

  “Baby,” she says, leveling her dark-eyed gaze on me, “I still remember how you tasted. How you felt in my mouth, the length of you in my hands. Don’t you know how crazy you make me? How bad I need you? No one makes me feel like you do, sweetheart. Now, stop fretting and shake that pretty ass for me.”

  I look down at my carnation and glance at the couch where Monroe was first introduced to my dick. “I feel myself blushing.”

  “That’s okay, sugar,” she says, stroking my cheek. “You’re just nervous about how good we make each other feel.”

  Monroe aces her lame guy shtick. Just until she forgets to be the man and starts swaying like no self-respecting dude would. Her arms lift over her head, and she shimmies her hips for my approval.

  “How many men have made you feel really good?” I ask, tugging off my shirt and tossing it next to my jacket.

  Monroe’s eyes widen at the sight of me shirtless. Her gaze is literally fucking me at this point. Then, she focuses on my hidden yet hard dick. “Just you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Those other boys lacked the finesse to make me wet,” she says, giving her full lips a little lick with anticipation. “They wanted my pussy to make them feel good. Never once did they worry if I got off.”

  “I care.”

  Monroe’s breathing shifts as her gaze holds mine. “You’re like no one I’ve ever known, Conor. That’s not a pickup line. It’s the real deal. I’m never certain how you’ll react. Makes life exciting, you know?”

  Sliding my fingers into her thick hair, I confess, “And you’re like no woman I’ve known. I either get the good girls who want to tame me or the bad girls who want to shame me for not being a badass twenty-four seven. I’m never enough.”

  “Those relationships had to flop, so you’d be free to fall for me,” she says, smiling with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing a man is sporting a boner with her name on it.

  My fingers caress her perfect face, only for her to back away. “We’ve put too much pressure on tonight,” she says, suddenly panicked. “How can our fuck live up to the fantasy we’ve spun for ourselves?”

  “Then, it’s a big dud,” I murmur while giving her nipples a gentle tug through her shirt. “We’ll lower our expectations and fuck again.”

  “Can life really be that easy?” she asks, sounding timid despite her hand now cupping my balls.

  “Fuck yeah, it can.”

  Smiling softly, Monroe nearly tears open my jeans before I s
eize her hands in mine.

  “Though I’m turned on by your horniest man alive impression, I insist on taking control here.”

  Smirking, Monroe shrugs. “I can’t read you, Conor. When you watch me, I don’t know if you’re playing hard to get or planning to jump on me like a wild dog.”

  “Well, I’m spelling it out, then,” I say and wrap her in my arms. “You get to act silly while I’m the big strong man bossing you around.”

  “Swoon,” she sighs and nuzzles my chest with her lips. “I want to explore your body.”

  “Not now. My dick is too hard for you to play Magellan. Let’s get you wet and let me bang one out quick.”

  “Bang one out,” she says, breaking free and taking off running for her bedroom. “Good news, I’m still wet from the dirty thoughts I had on the ride here.”

  I find a shirtless Monroe bouncing on her bed. When she throws her bra at me, I consider using it to tie her down. After all, I get the weird impression she might run again.

  “Promise I can kiss every inch of your body after our first bang,” she says, pressing her bare chest against mine.

  Smiling softly, I love how she no longer hides from me. For weeks, I’ve wondered what went on in her head. Now, I look in her eyes and understand exactly how she feels—horny. Monroe just wants to fuck. No discussions about what will happen tomorrow. She wants to feel good, and I’m the only man who’s ever made her come. Monroe can literally get her body revving just by looking at me.

  “You impress me,” she says, cupping my face and staring into my eyes. “Few people do. I come from the land of cheese and sauerkraut. Nothing about my life is particularly exciting. But I look at you, and my heart beats too fast. Now, I’m talking too much. Please, kiss me, fuck me, silence me.”

  My grinning lips press against hers, shutting her up as my hands cup her soft full tits. Hard nipples tease my palms.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” I murmur when our lips part long enough for me to feast on the sight of tanned tits. “Did you sunbathe topless?”