The truth is I would never even think about touching any of them. While I may only be four or five years older, it would still be fucked-up. Those girls are probably only nineteen or twenty, just like the chief’s daughter.
Except I’m starting to think that his daughter is nowhere near as innocent as those girls appeared to be.
Chapter Four
Hannah
* * *
“Wow, you’re sneaking in late,” I slur to Bob from the sofa where I’m wearing nothing but one of his white button-downs, chugging straight from a bottle of wine as he quietly creeps through the door hours after we were supposed to have dinner together. Not that I cooked or anything, but I did order manicotti, his favorite, from the best Italian delivery service in town.
“I lost track of time while I was grading papers,” he says when he lowers his briefcase and takes off his suit jacket in the entryway.
He’s such a liar. There’s no reason he couldn’t have brought home those papers and graded them here. I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid. It doesn’t take a sober genius to figure out that he’s screwing other students. That’s exactly why I always make him wear a condom even though he can’t get me pregnant.
While Bob’s name isn’t all that sexy, he’s still a good-looking man at forty-six. He’s not six foot tall or anything, but he’s not short either, just average height with a lean frame. Even his black-rimmed glasses are kind of cute on his long face that never has a scrap of facial hair on it to make him look younger than his age. Several of the girls in my dorm used to say he looked like Chandler from Friends before he got chubby. He’s not the sexiest man of the year, but he’s handsome and can be sweet despite his freaky fetishes.
Slipping off his shoes, he comes over and takes the now empty wine bottle from my hands. “Need a refill?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply because that’s one good thing about Bob, he doesn’t discourage any of my bad behaviors. He keeps alcohol well stocked for me.
Bob goes into the kitchen where I hear him uncorking another bottle of wine before returning with a wineglass that’s half-full. Offering it to me, he says, “Mature adults drink from glasses.”
“Is that so?” I ask when I get to my feet to take the glass, throwing the crimson liquid down my throat. Being numb is what helps get me through the days and nights of being a college dropout who hates her family and lives with an old man. Okay, fine, I was kicked out of school but only because I stopped going to classes. When I’ve swallowed every sip, I toss the glass over my shoulder where it breaks against the wall. “Oops.”
Bob chuckles, giving my blonde ponytail a tug before he takes a seat on the sofa and says, “Ah, I’ll clean it up later. Get naked while you tell me about your day.”
He lets me do whatever I want and get away with things that would’ve made my father’s face turn blood red as he yelled at me until he lost his voice. It’s one of the reasons why I love staying with him. Except, it’s not really freedom. Bob expects certain things from me – sex, specifically, whenever he wants it. I give it to him even if I’m too drunk to move or not in the mood or just don’t want him touching me.
“Well,” I say as I start unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt I’m wearing over nothing. “I woke up naked on the floor this morning with your friend’s shoe poking my ass.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks while unzipping his pants, pulling his shirt free and then taking his cock in his hand. “Did he poke you with anything else?”
My fingers freeze on the second button of the shirt. With the way the room is spinning, I must have misheard him. “What?”
“You can tell me if you fucked him. I wouldn’t mind.”
“You wouldn’t mind if your friend fucked me while I was passed out on his floor? Why not?” I ask in confusion.
“Because you’re a little sex fiend who can’t get enough. Now touch yourself for me, angel.”
“Wait. Before you left this morning…did you tell him he could screw me?”
Bob shrugs without missing a stroke on his lengthening cock. “I told him we had an open relationship and that I wouldn’t mind if he wanted a turn with you.”
“Don’t you think…you-you should’ve asked me first before telling your friends they can have their way with me while I’m passed out!”
“Fine. I want to watch other men fuck you. Is that so wrong?” he asks. “I figured that if I had asked you to do it, you would’ve said no, but if I just left and things happen naturally, you would come around to the idea once you were sleeping around behind my back.”
“That…none of that makes any sense at all!” I say as I try and comprehend his fucked-up logic. “I thought we were together, a couple.”
“We are,” Bob says. He reaches out and grabs my hips to try and pull me down to his lap, but I stagger back and away from his grip. “Hannah, please. I let you stay with me after you dropped out of school, didn’t I? We have a lot of fun together, right? What more do you want?”
What more do I want?
How can he even ask that?
I want what most other single women want – a man to love me. And yeah, having hot sex would be great too, but it’s not the most important thing. I’m just so sick of people letting me down. Men letting me down. I thought I had convinced myself to not have any expectations with Bob so that I wouldn’t be disappointed. But I guess I was wrong, and I do want more.
Even if he told me he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me, deep down I know that I don’t love him and never will. He’s just a distraction from my self-loathing.
“Stop trying to overthink everything when you’re so drunk. We can decide which of my friends you would prefer to fuck in front of me later,” Bob says. “For now, come sit on my cock and do what you do best. I’ve never met anyone sexier than you, angel.”
I must not have drunk as much as I thought tonight, because I’m hesitating, and I never hesitate when it comes to fucking. Like he said, it’s what I do best. And apparently, he’s not going to give up on the whole idea of watching me with another man.
“I’m thirsty,” I whisper when I back away from him. “I need more wine.”
“Then go pour yourself another glass and hurry back,” Bob says as I retreat to the kitchen. “I’ve been waiting to get inside you all day, and my patience is wearing thin!”
Chapter Five
Conrad
* * *
It’s after eleven when I pull up in front of the red, one-level cottage where this son-of-a-bitch professor lives. What kind of asshole takes advantage of his students by sleeping with them? I hate agreeing with the police chief about anything, but no wonder he’s so adamant about getting his daughter home and away from this pervert.
Not that I have any right to throw stones in my glass house or anything.
The lights are on in the front rooms, so I climb out of the rental car and head up the walk to the front door where I ring the doorbell.