My house isn’t huge or over the top like my father’s. It’s more homey, small, and cozy. Plain white brick wraps around the outside with simple black shutters on every window, and a decent-sized porch in the front.
I park my car and hop out then lock it on my way up the steps of my porch. When I push open my door, I’m met with dim light from the lamp by my couch. I walk to it, but before I flip it off, I notice August’s tiny pink tag blanket lying over the arm of the sofa.
I smile at the thought of my niece. Her chubby little face and tight black curls are probably the only thing that warms my cold heart.
She must have left it here the last time I watched her, and I’m sure it’s been hell for Max. She can’t sleep without it. It’s kind of cute really how attached she is to something so insignificant. I sigh and make a mental note to call my brother tomorrow and let him know because right now the last thing I want to deal with is him— the carbon copy of my father.
I turn off the light and maneuver through my living room, past my office and kitchen, all the way to the back of my house to my bedroom. I flip the light on and release a breath when I see everything is just the way I left it.
Removing my rings, I set them on the chest of drawers on the right side of my room. I slowly unbutton my shirt and take it off along with my suit jacket. My pants go next, landing in a pile along with my shoes as I head into the bathroom.
A chill runs through my body the moment my bare feet hit the cool tile in my bathroom. I shake it away and stride to my shower. I turn on the hot water, not even bothering with the cold. Steam fills the small room, and I advance forward, putting my body directly under the stream.
My shoulders relax and I sag against the wall, but the blissful numbness doesn’t last long. Just like every other moment in my life, anytime I feel at ease, my father snakes into my mind, and with him, now comes Arloe. Pictures of her spread on my brother’s desk flip through my memory, and her moans fill my ears. I bring my hand to my face and inhale deeply, making sure her smell is still there. Instantly, my cock hardens.
If it was any other woman, I would be fucking thrilled, but because it’s Arloe I’m not. I shouldn’t think of her this way because I know by doing so, I’m putting her at risk. That’s all being with me really is. A risk. But I can’t help it. She’s different and unfazed by who I am. I can tell by the shimmer in her eyes. And that was my dad’s plan. I knew it from the moment he pulled me back into his office that day I went to see him. He wanted me to get close to her, he wanted me to integrate her into my life. And he knew it would be easy to do so.
You can’t be around a woman like Arloe and expect anything less than being completely consumed. The only problem is I know if I let that show, it’ll bite me in the ass later, but here, in the comfort of my own home, I can let myself feel that. I can fantasize about her all I want, and no one would ever know.
I grab myself roughly and move so the stream of water hits where my cock and hand meet. Slowly, I stroke myself. I remember how her walls tightened around my fingers and mimic the grip on my dick. I squeeze my eyes shut and pump myself to the memory of the rhythm of her hips as she bucked against me.
With every stroke to the head of my length, my abs flinch and flex.
“E-easton.” Her moaning my name plays on repeat in my mind, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pissed at the fact this isn’t her pussy around my cock, and even more pissed the thoughts of my father brought this on.
I inch forward and brace myself with my free hand, planting it on the wall in front of me. Over and over, I glide my hand over my shaft, telling myself not to come. If I can’t control anything else, I can at least control when I fucking blow. Fuck my dad. Fuck what he thinks of me, what he wants from me, and how he treats me.
I pick up my tempo and move my other hand to cup my balls. I massage them gently, then let myself explode. With every spurt of cum hitting my shower wall, a new thought hits my mind. If Arloe wants a monster, I’ll give her that. And if my father wants a doting son, I’ll give him that, too. But everything is going to be done how I want it from now on.
I let the water rinse my seed from the wall and down the drain, then I hurry and wash myself and step out.
Chapter Nine
Arloe
“So how was the date?” Greer asks as I roll the cart full of books over to the display table near the door.
I choke on my breath and accidentally bump my thigh into the hard surface. “W-what?”
I look at her as she stands at the register, her attention split between me and a customer. She moves about, ringing up the items, accepting the money, bagging everything with a smile, all while keeping her eyes locked on me.
“Thank you for shopping Ever After Books, there’s a twenty-five percent off coupon in your bag for your next purchase.”
The older woman nods and turns, stopping for a brief moment to stare at me. “So, are you going to answer her?”
My shoulders slump from my deep inhale. “I…” I start but snap my mouth shut.
The truth is, I don’t really know how to answer her. I’m not even sure what went down the other night was a date. He certainly never asked me on one. But, I also didn’t require him to, and I definitely didn’t put up much of a fight in that office.
My skin grows hot, sweat coating every inch of my frame as my nerves knot in my gut under their scrutiny. I focus on the books, stacking them on the table with one standing up on top of the pile. When I move on to a different set of books, I continue to feel their eyes on me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I finally blurt out.
The woman tilts her head at the same time as Greer, and it’s scary how closely they mimic one another. Greer sucks her teeth, and the customer takes that as her cue to leave. But she doesn’t hesitate to give me a disapproving nod, using her eyes to tell me just how full of shit she thinks I’m being. At least that’s the way I interpret the scowl on her lips.
“She’s gone now.” Greer crosses her arms over her chest and pads to the corner of the counter.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
One hand goes to her hip and the other to her side. “Look at you like what? Like you’re lying to my face after all the months we’ve worked together?” She steps from behind the counter while rolling her neck for emphasis. “Like all the Sesame Asian salads I’ve fetched for you meant nothing? All the late nights braiding each other’s hair was just what to you exactly?” She’s in front of me now. “’Cause I thought we were friends.”
“Southwest Asian salad. And we’ve never braided each other’s hair,” I combat.
She gives me a look that tells me she doesn’t think I’m funny.
“And we are friends. I just don’t know what you mean.” I shrug and stack another book.
“Arloe,” she chides.
“Greer,” I mock her and bend to pick up the now empty box.
She follows behind me, and I imagine she’s throwing her arms in the air while rolling her eyes. I reach the back near the office, doing everything in my power to ignore the sounds of her footsteps behind me. I face the front again, and just like I thought, she’s only inches away from me.