I pocket my phone and concentrate on the structural report before me. Should I tell Lexi? I’m not seeing her tonight, but I don’t want her to think I’m keeping things from her. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed of our relationship, and though she doesn’t want Justin to know yet, I still have to have a relationship with him. I still love him.
Decision made, I grab my phone and grin as I open our messages. The last one is a picture of her kissing the screen before she went into work for rehearsal. I shouldn’t bother her, but she can pick this up later.
Tyler: I’m having dinner with Justin tonight. I’ll call you after. I miss you already.
She doesn’t reply straightaway, so I pocket my phone and lose myself in work, all the while wondering what advice Justin could possibly need. There is one thing for sure, this is going to be an awkward meal.
I’m there at eight PM sharp, waiting for Justin. When he doesn’t show—that boy is always late—I pull out my phone and re-read Lexi’s last message.
Lexi: Thanks for letting me know. I hope you both have a good night. I’ll speak to you later. I miss you so much, my bed feels empty without you.
Just as I’m about to put it away, a picture comes through of her in her outfit for tonight’s show, and I groan. She’s in a lace bra and some sparkly shorts. Her hair is loose and curled around her shoulders, her eyes are lined, and her lips are red as she poses. She looks good enough to fucking eat.
“Hi, Dad!” Justin calls, and I quickly pocket my phone. I don’t stand to greet him so he doesn’t see the obvious erection tenting my pants.
He slips into the seat opposite me and waves his hand arrogantly to order a drink, making me roll my eyes. The waiter comes over and takes his order, and after the waiter leaves, I take a sip of my drink. “How have you been? How’s work?” I inquire.
“Good, good, fine.” He waves his hand, and I know then he came here for a very particular reason. He doesn’t want small talk. It saddens me a bit. He’s still my son, and I want to be a part of his life, but he makes it difficult. “So, I need your advice,” he hedges nervously.
“Yes, you mentioned that. What for?” I question, sitting back. I hope it’s not to borrow more money off me. I believe your child should earn their own, but when he asks, I can’t help but give in. It’s happening more and more frequently now, and it makes me wonder what he’s spending it all on.
He stares at the table like he used to when he was a kid, thinking on what to say so as not to get into trouble. Awkwardness stretches between us. Over the years, we have drifted apart, but since Lexi…well, it’s possibly my fault. I don’t know what to say to him, and it ends in tension, like now. Both of us are aware there is something bigger going on, but neither of us wants to talk about it.
I could only imagine how he would react if he found out…
“I want to get Lexi back,” he blurts. I blink, pulled abruptly from my own thoughts, my hand clenching on my thigh.
“What?” I ask. Surely I heard him wrong.
He nods hurriedly. “I made a big mistake. You were right. She is amazing, and I want to give it another go. But she turned me down, and honestly, I don’t know what to say or do, and you get along with her so well, I thought you might have some advice,” he rushes out.
‘Get along with her’ is a fucking understatement. I stare, unsure what to say. This isn’t fucking happening. My son is asking for me to give him advice on how to get my girlfriend back? Rubbing my face, I down some of my vodka. I promised Lexi not to tell him, but I can’t sit back and listen to him go on about how amazing she is and how much he wants her back.
“Don’t you think that’s something you should have realised before you cheated?” I snap.
He frowns. “Yes, but I was an idiot. She’s amazing, Dad. So sexy and—” Jealousy roars through me, and it takes all my restraint not to grab him and punch him in his pleading face for talking about her like that. Possessiveness rolls through me, and I grip the glass harder to stop myself from saying something I shouldn’t.
“So, any advice?” he queries, and I realise he’s been talking.
“If she said no, it means no, kid. You had your chance, you messed up,” I reply, probably harsher than I meant to, but I’m trying.
“I just think I could wear her down, you know?” he muses, leaning in.
I snort. “Oh, that’s fucking romantic, you wearing her down? She’s clearly made her decision, you need to respect it, annoying her isn’t the way to go. You need to leave her alone so she can get on with her life without you popping up as a reminder of the pain you put her through.”
He rolls his lips in as if he’s angry and stands. “Great, thanks for the help,” he barks. “Should have known not to come to you,” he mutters, before downing his drink and leaving me there staring after him.
I watch him go as anger, jealousy and guilt consume me until I can’t take it anymore. Tossing back my drink, I leave a generous tip and head back to my car. Once there, I quickly dial her phone, hoping she will be done already.
I need her.
She answers on facetime, clearly in the club’s bathroom where she’s probably getting dressed to go home. I groan. I was going to talk, to ask for her opinion, to let her reassure me…but seeing her, I realise I want something else. I want to see that she’s still mine. Justin’s poisonous words fill my head, coating my brain until all I can think about is proving to him and me that she’s mine.
Only mine.
Never his, not ever again.
She’s my fucking angel.
“Hi, Ty, how was—”
“Lock the door, pants off now,” I order.
She blinks, watching me for a moment, even as I see excitement fill her eyes. The phone is placed down on the counter, and a moment later, I hear the click of the lock before her face comes back on the screen. “Ty?” she asks.
“Is that my name?” I demand.
She shivers, her lips parting on a pant. “No,” she whispers.
“Say it.”
“Daddy,” she purrs.
“Good girl, now show your daddy who you belong to. Let me see that pretty pussy of mine. Touch it,” I instruct, getting comfy in the driver’s seat as I watch my girl.
She licks her lips and then, with a smile, traces her hand down her chest to her breast, squeezing as she tilts the camera to show me. Groaning, I watch as she runs it down her bare stomach and into the tiny little lace thong she’s wearing. She pulls it to the side, showing me her already wet cunt.
“Fuck, Angel,” I groan, my cock jerking in my pants as I watch her, but this isn’t about my pleasure or even hers. It’s about assuring us both that Justin hasn’t gotten between us. That I’m hers and she’s mine.
“Fuck yourself on your fingers, make yourself come as I watch.” She groans and flicks her clit before running her finger down her dripping pussy and slipping it inside.
“Good girl,” I coo. “Fuck, look how wet you are. I can see you clenching around your fingers, baby, it’s so fucking hot. I’m sitting in my goddamn car trying not to explode in my trousers like some kind of kid.”