Thoughts of all the Pearson men have me feeling flushed. Absently, I reach down and run my fingers over my clit through my panties. It feels good. I imagine it’s Brock’s fingers, but my fantasy turns dirty quickly. Brock morphs into Eric. Soft touches become rough ones. Sweet words become biting ones.
“Mmmm,” I whimper.
Steel-blue eyes pinning me. A hard, stone-like body pressed against my chest. Full lips kissing mine.
My orgasm is close, but still so far away. With a frustrated groan, I give up and throw on my dress. Once it’s knotted behind my neck, I look at my reflection. I can’t say I’m displeased. According to my dad, I look just like my mother. I never knew her since she died having me. She had silky brown hair like mine and chocolate-colored eyes. I haven’t seen many pictures because it upsets him to keep them out, but I know I have her pouty lips too.
I hear the door open and close downstairs. My hopes of seeing Brock are dashed knowing my father is here. Since it’s my birthday, he’ll want to take me to dinner or something. With a huff, I push my dark brown hair behind my ears and look around my room. When my eyes land on Daddy’s newest gift, I suppress a shudder.
I’m eighteen, not eight.
Of course I told him I loved it, but secretly, I’d been horrified. Daddy built me a dollhouse. It’s chest high and made from real wood. On one side, it looks exactly like the front of our house, even down to the gray shutters. On the other side, it’s open and gives a bird’s eye view into an exact replica of our house. Even the Barbie’s room is pink like mine. Frilly and pink and over the top. I don’t have the heart to tell him I’ll be going to college in a few short months. I’ll live in a dorm and trade in all this girly shit for the college life.
But he’s been both parents to me. He’s a cool dad and gives me freedom. However, he’s still a parent in the sense that he makes me eat right and makes sure I’m taking care of myself. School is important to him and my grades can’t be anything less than stellar.
“My little girl is growing up,” he says from my doorway, pride in his voice.
I turn to look at my dad. Jax Wheeler. He’s not much older than Eric and has a similar physique. I’d always thought men were supposed to get flabby and gross with age, yet all the men I know have only gotten better. It makes me hope my dad will find him a nice woman to settle down with. He’s always so lonely, and it breaks my heart. Seeing that he owns a pharmaceutical company and runs every day at five in the morning to keep in shape, he should have women falling at his feet. I seriously don’t get it.
“Hey,” I say with a smile.
He walks into the room, opens his arms for a hug, and I walk into his embrace. When I start to pull away, I notice a drop of blood on his shirt.
“Did you hurt yourself?” I ask, pointing to the spot.
His smile falls as he inspects it. “Yeah, shaving.”
I open my mouth to ask him where the cut is when he gives me a sheepish smile.
“Rowan, how mad at me would you be if I rescheduled your birthday dinner?”
At this, I laugh. “Depends on the reason.”
He rubs at the back of his neck and shrugs. “I met this woman recently…”
“You have a date!” I screech, a huge smile on my face.
“Something like that.” He smirks at me.
“Go!” I say with a giggle. “And take a shower. You stink.”
He chuckles. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know you will.”
His gaze flits over to the dollhouse, and he beams with pride. Just another reason why I’d never say a thing about it. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t know how to raise a girl. He’s tried his best, and I love him for that.
While Daddy gets ready, I wait impatiently by the window. Brock finally comes home, waving at me from his window, and I wave back. The moment my father leaves, I all but run next door.
Nixon answers immediately after I knock. He may only be sixteen, but he’s just as tall and buff as Brock. Unlike his older brothers, he’s yet to develop the sexy smirk they seem to share with their father. I stand on my toes to ruffle his hair, then bounce through the house on a mission to find Brock. Once inside his room, I shut the door and begin tugging at the knot on my dress. Brock’s hungry gaze roves over me as the dress falls to the floor beside the bed.
“Wow,” he says in awe. “So pretty.”
I smile as I do my best to walk seductively toward him. Based on the way his cock tents his basketball shorts, I’d say he’s definitely aroused. He sits up and hangs his legs off the side of the bed and I come to stand between them.
“Happy birthday,” he says with a panty-melting grin.
I lean forward and kiss his mouth. “What did you get me?”
Panic flashes in his eyes. Quickly, he schools it away. “I got you me.”
I laugh until I realize he’s not joking. “Oh.” Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back and smile at him.
“You could ride my cock,” he offers, his gaze hooded.
A pang of nervousness flits through me. Suddenly, I don’t feel so ready for sex. Distracting him, I fall to my knees and rub his dick through his shorts. “I could suck your cock instead.”
“Fuck yes,” he grunts, lifting his hips to assist me in pulling his shorts off. I slide them down his thighs and grip his dick in my hand.
“I’m not sure what to do,” I whisper.
He strokes my hair and smiles. “Put your lips on it. Maybe use your tongue. You’ll figure it out.”
I swallow down my unease. My thoughts keep going to this summer. He’ll turn eighteen too, but he always gives me the runaround when I talk about college. It’s almost as if…
He wouldn’t break up with me, would he?
“Do you think our dorms will be close?” I ask, my tongue teasing his salty tip.
A hiss escapes him, but he avoids my stare. “Maybe.”
Frowning, I sit back slightly. “Brock, what’s going to happen to us?”
Anger flashes in his eyes and his jaw clenches. “Are we seriously discussing this with my dick in your mouth?”
His tone stings me. My instinct is to crawl away and grab for my dress. I’m about to when there’s a knock. Before I can move, his bedroom door swings open and someone growls. Like an animal. And holy hell, does it drop a match and set my soul on fire.
Chapter Three
Eric
My temper flares when I see an almost naked Rowan on her knees in front of my son with his dick in her hand. A possessive need to pluck her up and spank her tiny little ass is overwhelming. I fist both hands as I step into the room.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I snarl.
She screeches and scrambles to her feet, her arms crossing over her chest. As if her skinny arms could hide her bouncy tits. It just makes them look fatter and juicier. I’m going to bruise the hell out of them. Soon.
“Dad,” Brock says, his voice hoarse as he quickly gets decent.
“This,” I seethe, “is not going to happen under my roof.”
Rowan’s big brown eyes well with tears and she glances at her dress smashed beneath my black leather Gucci dress shoe.