Daddy's Virgin Page 17

  Even as we sat there, I found excuses to put off the moment. Jake was tired, we’d had a long day, and it wasn’t the right time for serious conversations or big revelations. For right now, I just wanted to sit here with Jake and enjoy his company without any distractions.

  “Thank you so much for cooking dinner for us,” Jake said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “I enjoyed it. Plus both of you helped.”

  He laughed. “You’re being generous, but I appreciate it all the same.”

  I pushed the last box into the corner of the living room so that it wouldn’t be in any one’s way. “There,” I said triumphantly. “All done and no messy cleanup for tomorrow.”

  “Lucky me.”

  I smiled. “It was really nice spending today with you and Noah.”

  “It was for me, too,” he nodded. “But maybe next time we could do something alone…just the two of us?”

  I smiled. “I’d love to.”

  “How about a golf tournament?”

  I wrinkled my nose with distaste. “Uh…that sounds…”

  “Awesome?” Jake offered.

  “Awful is the adjective I was looking for,” I smiled.

  He laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be,” he said, as he continued to laugh. “Honestly, I like that you’re blunt with your opinions, and I like that you’re not putting on a show for me. That reminds me of…”

  He trailed off, and I saw the smile falter on his face. I reached out immediately and took his hand. When his perfect blue eyes met mine, I gave him a reassuring smile.

  “It’s okay,” I said gently. “You can say it. I remind you of your wife, don’t I?”

  Jake nodded. “You do…”

  “I don’t mind the comparison,” I said. “In fact, I’m sure you mean it as a compliment.”

  “I do,” he nodded. “But it’s more than just that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your similarity to her isn’t just about character,” he told me. “You resemble her a lot, too.”

  I felt my stomach tighten as I realized this was my opportunity. This was the perfect time to tell him. And yet, even as the words slipped onto my tongue I knew I couldn’t bring myself to say them.

  “I see it, too,” I said, glancing over at her picture on the wall behind us. “Would it be too egotistical now to admit that I think she’s beautiful?”

  Jake smiled. “No, that would just be truthful,” he said. “Daphne was a beautiful woman. And you are, too.”

  Jake looked down at our entwined fingers. He pulled my hand up and kissed it gently. “I was scared to get close to you,” he admitted in a voice steeped in vulnerability.

  I felt myself leaning into him, craving his body. “Because of Daphne?”

  “Yes and no,” Jake said. “It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t mind; explain it to me,” I encouraged.

  “I felt guilty,” he admitted finally. “For wanting you, for being attracted to you. And for a second there, I was scared that the only reason I was attracted to you at all was because of your resemblance to Daphne.”

  I felt my heart constrict for a moment, hoping against hope that he saw something in me that had nothing to do with Daphne, at all.

  “But over the last couple of weeks, I’ve realized something,” Jake said. “You’re not Daphne—no matter how much you may resemble her, you’re not her. And, I’m actually glad. Because I also realized that I’m still attracted to you. I still want to be with you.”

  I felt a sigh of relief escape me, and I smiled instantly. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I hope that doesn’t scare you.”

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I had a rough childhood. My family was… Well, they weren’t really a family, at all. My mother was nothing more than a mistress, and I was the result of their decades-long affair. But these last few weeks, spending time with you and Noah, has made me feel like I was a part of a family—and you have no idea how much that means to me.”

  Jake listened attentively, and then he leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. “It means something to me, too,” he said.

  Then suddenly, before I could catch my breath, he had grabbed me by the hips and pulled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him tightly. His hands were on my hips, and my ass, and I could feel how hard his cock was through his pants. I responded immediately, and a burst of desire rushed through me. It was so strong that I moistened instantly and I felt my body pull in closer to Jake.

  “I thought you wanted to take things slow?” I asked.

  “We’ve taken things slow enough,” he said, slipping his hands up my skirt. “I want you, and I want you now.”

  “Right here?”

  “Yes.”

  I wanted him, too; my body ached for his. But still, I looked back over my shoulder cautiously. “What about Noah?”

  “He’s sleeping.”

  “He could wake up.”

  “Then we’ll just have to be careful,” Jake said as his pushed down my panties.

  I let out a little gasp as his finger slipped inside me. He fingered me slowly at first, getting me all hot and bothered, and then he slipped another finger inside me and pushed harder until I was falling back, flat across his carpet. He settled himself on top of me and pushed open my blouse. Skillfully, he removed my bra and started teasing my nipples until I was writhing beneath him, trying to keep myself from screaming.

  “I want to feel your cock inside me,” I gasped at last, unable to handle his teasing for much longer.

  Smiling with satisfaction, Jake pushed inside me, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning loudly. He fucked me hard against his soft, carpeted floors. And all I could do was grip the furniture around me and try to control my screams.

  Every time I managed to master some semblance of control, Jake would change positions, and I would find myself fighting to gain control again as a new bout of desire threatened to defeat me.

  He fucked me from the back and from the side. He had me in seven different ways. His hands were experts. They raged around my body, exploring every inch of me. The first orgasm was intoxicating, the second one was unexpected, and the third one had me stuffing my hand in my mouth to block out the screams.

  In the end, I didn’t succeed. I let out a bursting cry as I came for the last time, and even Jake moaned in defeat as he finally came, too.

  It had been an arduous half an hour of lovemaking, and we were both shaking and sweating and gasping for breath. I had never experienced anything quite as powerful before, and I couldn’t believe that sex was like that for everyone.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I asked as I leaned against his chest.

  “Sure.”

  “Is sex always that insanely satisfying?”

  He smiled. “You were insanely satisfied?”

  I blushed a little and hid my face in his chest. “Maybe.”

  He let out a low laugh. “No,” he admitted. “It’s not always like that. In fact, it’s quite rare for it to be like that. I’ve never experienced anything quite as strong myself.”

  I felt a bubble of happiness and pride at his words. Was he indirectly telling me that I was the best sex he’d ever had? Did this mean that our connection transcended the connection he had shared with Daphne? I hoped it meant that we had a shot at a relationship that was just as strong.

  “Neither have I,” I said teasingly.

  Jake laughed. “Considering I’m the only man you’ve ever been with, I don’t quite know how to take that.”

  “Take it as a compliment,” I said. “You’ve ruined me for other men.”

  Jake smiled. “It can’t have been that good then,” he said softly. “If you’re thinking of other men.”

  I pushed myself up on my elbow and looked down at him. “I’m not thinking of other men,” I assured him. “I only ever thin
k of you.”

  He smiled. “I have a confession to make,” he said softly.

  “Tell me.”

  “I think I’m falling for you, Kristen,” he said.

  I felt ecstasy and fear in the same breath. And instead of confronting either emotion, I leaned down and kissed Jake until I managed to chase the guilt from my mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jake

  As I walked into my office, I noticed that Kristen wasn’t at her desk. I felt a little note of disappointment and realized how much I’d been looking forward to seeing her all morning. I hadn’t been able to come into work first thing because I had meetings across town.

  In the last few weeks, Kristen and I had been spending a huge amount of time together. We had frown exceptionally close, and I was feeling all the familiar tingles of love beginning to blossom within me. And there was something else, too…something that felt a lot like relief. Was it possible that Kristen was the one who could mend my broken heart and change me for the better? I was starting to think that it was possible. I refrained from calling to check where she was and headed into my office.

  I sat down at my desk and poured myself a glass of water. We had spoken a lot over the last couple of weeks, but I had noticed something in that time. Kristen was extremely tight-lipped about her childhood and her parents. I knew she had a rough relationship with both her mother and her father, and I knew general information, but she had been careful to avoid details. It had made me curious and some intrinsic part of myself told me that she was holding back because perhaps she didn’t feel as strongly about me as I felt about her.

  I realized that I wanted to know more about her, not just out of curiosity, but also as an attempt to deepen the connection between us. I was ruminating on how far I had come in such a short time when I heard a knock on my door.

  “Come in,” I called.

  A moment later, Kristen walked in. She was wearing a red blouse and a black pencil skirt that made her look like she should have been on the cover of some magazine. Her hair was tied into a loose knot at the back of her head, and her makeup, as usual, was understated and classy. She was holding two takeout cartons from a restaurant downtown that I loved. She gave me a smile as she walked in and sat down opposite me.

  “Surprise,” she said, setting the takeout cartons on the table. “Lunch.”

  “That restaurant is forty minutes away.”

  “Turns out, they deliver,” she told me. “The moment I knew, I had just had to order in lunch for us.”

  “Delivery must be crazy expensive.”

  Kristen tightened her lips, and I knew it would have been.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “None of your business,” she countered. “Just enjoy the lunch.”

  I smiled. I dipped into the carton and reached for the chopsticks. I took a bite and then closed my eyes in appreciation.

  “Good surprise?” she asked.

  “Great surprise,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, reaching for her takeout carton.

  I glanced up at her. “So, Kristen…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Things have been going well between us, don’t you think?”

  She smiled. “Very well,” she nodded.

  “I would even go so far as to say we’ve entered firmly into relationship status,” I said.

  Kristen’s smile widened. “I would agree.”

  “Maybe it’s time we took our relationship to the next level,” I suggested.

  Kristen raised her eyebrows. “The next level?” she repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “Um…we’re already sleeping together,” she said.

  “I’m not talking about sex.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  I paused for a moment, wondering how to bring up the topic. “Well… I suppose I’ve noticed that whenever we discuss our pasts and our family history, I’m the one doing most of the talking.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve told you about my past,” she said, but I was almost certain that she tensed a little.

  “Not in detail,” I said. “I know that your father was married to someone else and had an affair with your mother, which led to your birth—but I don’t really know much else.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  I was sure it wasn’t my imagination this time. She really was reluctant to talk about her parents. I understood that she must be embarrassed and self-conscious about it, but I also wanted her to know that I wasn’t the kind of guy who would judge her based on her parent’s poor life decisions.

  “Well, for starters, do you still talk to your father?” I asked. “Or is it more serious than that?”

  “The last time I spoke to him was about seven months ago,” Kristen admitted. “Just before I moved here. I didn’t really have a choice a lot of the time. He lives with my mother, and when I go to see her, I inevitably see him.”

  “So, you don’t really want to have anything to do with him?” I asked.

  I sighed. “It’s complicated,” she said. “The fact is, despite everything, it appears my mother genuinely loves him. I suppose that’s why I swallow my anger and talk to him each time—because it hurts her when I don’t. My mother and I don’t have the best relationship, but I still love her. I can use that word in relation to her, but with my father…that word never made sense.”

  “You don’t like talking about them, do you?” I asked.

  “Not really,” Kristen said.

  “Have you spoken to your mother recently?”

  “Um… I have,” she nodded slowly. “It didn’t go very well.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Mom has always felt like she had some sort of divine right to interfere in my life,” Kristen explained. “She likes to control me—maybe because she could never really control her own life. I suppose it just got to be too much for me.”

  “Was that why you left Michigan?”

  “Part of the reason,” she nodded.

  I wanted to ask what the other part of her reason was, but I sensed that she was already extremely uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad. I did want her to open up to me, but I wanted her to want to share. It didn’t really count if I forced her into it.

  “I’m sorry,” Kristen said suddenly. “It’s just that… I guess I’m sensitive about my upbringing; it wasn’t exactly normal.”

  I smiled. “We all think that about our families,” I said. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, then I won’t push you. But I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything.”

  “Thank you,” she nodded. She was silent for a long time, and when she looked up, she seemed more willing to talk.

  “I was nine when I realized my parents weren’t married. I asked Mom why there were no wedding pictures of her and Dad, and she told me it was because they had decided not to get married. It wasn’t until years later that I found out about his other family—his real family.”

  “Real?” I repeated, sensing the hostility in that word.

  “He was already married, and he had a child,” Kristen said. “I mean, another child.”

  “Wow,” I breathed. “You have a sibling?”

  “A half-sister,” Kristen nodded. She seemed somehow different. As though her body had tensed suddenly.

  “Is she older?” I asked.

  “By a few years,” she replied without any emotion.

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Kristen looked down, and I could see the emotion build up inside her. “We don’t have contact,” she said flatly, as though she would have rather spoken about anything else in the world. There was something in her eyes that told me that she cared about this half-sister, though.

  “I’m sorry, Kristen,” I said, reaching out and taking her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t upset me,” she said quickly. “It’s just that talkin
g about my family has always been a little difficult for me. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Why should it be?” I asked. “Their decisions have nothing to do with you.”

  “It’s reflective of where I came from,” she tried to explain. “They are a part of me, no matter how fast I try to run from that. My mother…she’s the last person in the world I want to be like, and yet, my greatest fear is that I’m exactly like her.”

  “Is that the source of your strained relationship with her?”

  “Strained,” Kristen repeated, as though she were amused with the word. “That’s putting it lightly. It’s only a small part of the source. The more relevant part has to do with the fact that I outed her years ago.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I had known about my father’s other family for a while,” Kristen explained. “I was a teenager, and I was angry and confused and just…disappointed in everything and everyone. Finally, I came to the conclusion that my father’s wife should be made aware of the situation.”

  “Wait,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “You exposed your parents’ affair.”

  “Pretty much,” she sighed. “I tracked down my father’s wife, which was surprisingly easy to do, then I drove two hours to the address I’d found, and… I told her.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What did she say?”

  “I didn’t wait for her to say anything,” I said. “I told her what I needed to tell her, and then I got back into my car and drove back home. The truth was, I couldn’t even meet her eye. My mother was the home wrecker—and I was the embodiment of her character.”

  “Kristen,” I said gently. “That’s harsh—you are not the embodiment of anything but your own actions and choices. You can’t be held accountable for what your parents did. If that were the case, we’d all be paying for the sins of those who came before us.”

  Kristen closed her eyes for a moment. “Her whole life was a lie,” she said. “It just felt like my life was a lie, as well.”

  “Your life is your own,” I assured her. “It’s yours to shape; if you don’t want to be like your mother, then don’t be like her. It’s as simple as that.”

  Kristen smiled sadly for a moment. “That’s easier said than done.”