Sleeping With The Single Dad Read online

  Saturday evening I called Ms. Kimble to make sure she was getting settled in her new place, but she didn’t answer. My place on the Upper West Side was a fantastic condo with an incredible view of Central Park, so I couldn’t imagine how she could be anything but content there.

  Olive was icy towards me for the rest of the weekend, but that was to be expected. Soon, the new week began, and I got back into my pre-Ms. Kimble routine. Looking over Amelia’s still-empty desk on the way in, I made a mental note to hire a new secretary- someone perhaps a little older, with a better attitude.

  The days went on, but as I worked, something disturbing happened: I found that my thoughts continued to drift back to Ms. Kimble. I made sure to keep myself busy; with my job, that wasn’t hard. But the second I would finish a given task, the moment my mind was free to drift to whatever it insisted upon drifting to, those thoughts would inevitably be of Ms. Kimble.

  I would think about her beautiful face, with its fair skin, bright eyes, and full lips. I would think about the warmth she exuded, and how pleasant it was to be around her. And as I thought about her, I would find my own feeling of warmth growing in me. Not a sexual feeling, mind you (well, mostly not), but a feeling of...happiness, of contentment.

  It was troubling.

  And the night with the woman, the date, I found myself completely uninterested in her. She was beautiful, certainly, but Ms. Kimble seemed to have some hold on me, some way of making all other women seem uninteresting.

  But I knew that these feelings would pass, as all feelings do. There was simply too much work to be done to be bothered with romance.

  17

  I still couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that Trent would throw me aside like that, sticking me in some apartment where he wouldn’t have to worry about me, where he could pretend that he was doing me a favor.

  I’d be furious if I didn’t miss him so fucking much.

  He wasn’t kidding about the apartment. It wasn’t a luxury penthouse on the top of a skyscraper, but it was amazing nonetheless. A three-bedroom condo that looked out onto Central Park from the east, it managed to be both cozy and spacious at the same time. It was certainly more room than I’d ever need, and would be an OK place for me to adjust to getting back to normalcy after the last two weeks.

  But part of me didn’t want to simply let the last two weeks go. I had feelings for Trent; surely, he knew that. And despite what he said, our arrangement worked. I was beginning to grow indispensable at his job, we enjoyed each other’s company, and I simply adored Olive. As much as he tried to frame my firing in terms of rational business calculations, I knew, deep down, that it was more about him not wanting to think about his feelings. He knew that he was starting to develop feelings for me, and probably figured that it would be easier to let me go sooner than later. Because God forbid he’d have to think about how he felt.

  And now I had nothing but time on my hands. The way I saw it, I had two choices: I could either sit around and sulk, helping myself to the ample liquor cabinet, or I could get to work, get my profile in order, and get back on the job hunt, taking advantage of the situation I found myself in. It was a no-brainer.

  I gave myself Sunday to get over everything, spending the day lounging around in my new digs, eating takeout and watching Netflix. But Monday I was all business. I got up at six AM to go for a long run in Central Park. I ran until my legs threatened to give out from under me, and by the time I got back, the blood was rushing through my veins, and I was ready to work.

  Arranging the bedroom with the best view as a makeshift office, putting flowers here and opening the windows, letting the morning sun stream in, I sat down with my computer and tore into my portfolio, filling in all of the gaps, finishing the unfinished projects, and starting new ones. I was a machine, working all through the day, only taking breaks to go for a quick stroll or to grab a bite to eat.

  The days flew by, and before I knew it, the work week was almost over. I didn’t even really talk to anyone that wasn’t someone that I was buying food from. Aside from Olive, that is. She had my phone number, so she kept me updated on how things were going with school, what book she was reading, and other the other relevant information. That kiddo had really grown on me, and I was looking forward to our next afternoon out on the town.

  Saturday came, and I passed the first part of the day like any other- exercise, then work. By the time the evening rolled around, I had been at it for ten or so hours straight, and decided that a little break was in order. I put a teakettle on the burner and opened up the doors that led to the living room balcony, which filled the room within seconds with fresh air and warm sunlight.

  After a few minutes, the kettle began to steam, and I poured myself a cup of hot tea and stood on the terrace while I sipped it. I looked out over the city, watching the small dots of cars make their way down the boulevards, the even smaller dots of people walking in Central Park, and the endless stretch of the city across Long Island. It was beautiful and peaceful.

  Then the doorbell sounded; a sharp ring that cut through the soft din of the city sounds below.

  I wondered who it was, who could’ve been visiting me; I wasn’t expecting any guests, and hadn’t ordered any food.

  I set my tea down on the glass-topped table and walked into the living room, approaching the door with slow steps. When I reached the door, I pulled it open.

  It was Trent. He stood in the doorway, wearing one of his crisp suits, a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and the slightest whisper of a smile on his face. My jaw dropped.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  I said nothing, instead sweeping my arm towards the living room.

  Trent stepped into the room with long strides, the polish of his dress shoes catching the last rays of evening sunlight. He stopped when he reached the middle of the room, and handed me the flowers.

  “For you.”

  Still not able to manage a word, I took the flowers, walked to the kitchen, placed them into a glass vase, and filled it with water from the sink.

  I brought the flowers back into the living room and set them down on a small table next to one of the couches. Looking at Trent, I could see that he wanted to say something; his face was uncharacteristically tense, and I waited for the words to come.

  But instead, he closed the few feet between us, took my face into his hands, and pressed his lips against mine. Our lips locked, and we stood together, held in the closed-mouth, chaste kiss.

  It soon became much more than that.

  His hands moved down to my hips. Then, with what appeared to be an effortless lift, he took me into the air and walked towards the long, white couch that lay along the living room wall.

  I didn’t resist for a moment.

  My hands went right into his slicked-back hair, pulling it out of place and into loose, thick strands. He continued to kiss me hard, his tongue now slipping between my lips, its warm presence in my mouth bringing me instant, sensual delight.

  We fell backward onto the couch, the cushions yielding under our collective weight.

  “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” I said, my voice breathy and hot.

  “I’m here now,” he said, taking his lips from my neck for just long enough to speak.

  His hands went to work on my clothes, pulling me out of the simple black blouse I was wearing, the evening air cool on by bare skin. I returned the favor, unbuttoning his white dress shirt, pulling it and his suit jacket off with a single motion. Our last liaison was in low moonlight; now that we were in brighter surroundings I could see the full glory of his naked torso. His chest was large and hard, with defined, square pectorals. His shoulders were sinewy and broad, and his abs were cut and beautiful. I kissing along his body, taking in the manly smell of his bare skin.

  With a quick motion, he snatched off my bra, my small, full breasts tumbling free. He took them into his hands, kissing my nipples slowly and sensually. Then, he moved his hands down to my pant
s, undoing the button and yanking them off, panties and all. He lifted up over me for a moment, looking me over with hungry eyes, taking in the sight of my nude body. Though I felt vulnerable under him, the feeling of being looked at with such desire filled me with a deep arousal.

  Lowering his torso, he kicked off his pants and socks. I opened my legs as he moved between them, and I could feel his cock against the inside of my thigh. Then, with a slow, measured thrust, he entered. I was already wet, and he slid into me with fluidity and ease.

  I moaned as he entered me, and as he began thrusting harder and harder, I reached across his back, digging my nails into the hard, tough skin. He sighed out a long breath as he moved in and out of me, my legs wrapping around him as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

  Steadily, he increased the speed that he fucked me, and I felt an orgasm draw nearer and nearer. I knew it would talk barely anything to cum, and I wanted nothing more than to have an orgasm while he was buried deep inside of me.

  I could feel him each time he buried himself to the base of his cock, and the feeling, the mental image, of his thick, long prick inside of me turned me on like nothing I’d ever known. I could feel each inch of him, each thrust of his hips under my hands. I moved my palms lower, resting them on his taut ass, squeezing him, pushing him harder into me.

  More and more he pounded me, the couch shifting under his thrusts. My orgasm grew closer by the second, and the room was filled with my breathy, panting moans.

  “Don’t stop,” I said, on the brink of cumming, “please, don’t stop.”

  Then it happened. White-hot pulses ripped through my body, thrumming like a drumbeat that felt as though was going to rip me apart at the seams. I felt as though, for a moment, I had become nothing but the manifestation of pure pleasure. My hands clenched, my toes curled, and my eyes were winced shut in an almost unbearable ecstasy.

  Trent’s back arched upwards, and, with a heavy grunt, he came, pumping himself into me, filling me full.

  Soon, we were both done, and he collapsed on top of me, his weight heavy and hot.

  We laid like this for a while, saying nothing, simply taking the pleasure of each other’s bodies next to one another.

  Finally, he broke the silence.

  “This was my first home in the city,” he said, his breath regained. “Well, the first place that I owned.”

  “It’s nice,” I responded.

  “Right. Very nice. Nice place for a family.”

  “Then, this is where you…” my words trailed off.

  “Yes. This is where I, Olive, and my wife used to live. This is where Olive spent the first five years of her life.”

  A moment passed, the breeze from the outside picking up.

  “I don’t know why I still have this place; I haven’t stepped foot in here since Julianne passed.”

  “Your wife?” I asked, my words careful.

  He nodded.

  “Yes. She passed quickly, suddenly. One day she was healthy, vibrant, then over the course of a week, she seemed to waste into nothing but a shadow. By the time we took her to the doctor, we found that we were too late to do anything. The cancer came quickly, and thoroughly.”

  He looked around the room once again.

  “I suppose I’m more sentimental than I thought.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” I asked. I didn’t want to change the subject so abruptly, but I had to know what he had in mind.

  “Ever since Julianne passed, my life has been about nothing more than my daughter, and my work- in that order. Love has been something that I consigned to some other point in the future, always somewhere ahead. But when you arrived, you stirred something in me, something that I thought I was able to control and compartmentalize.”

  I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

  “And when we slept together that first time, everything that I was trying to hide away rushed back into the front of my mind. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t ignore my feelings for you.”

  “So, you got rid of me.”

  He nodded again.

  “Yes. It was drastic and foolish. How well you got along with Olive should’ve tipped me off that you were something special. But I was foolish and proud. And perhaps a little scared of my feelings.”

  Another moment.

  “But I’m here, such as I am. And if after all of that, all that I put you through, you’d still like to…see where this all goes, then I’m ready.”

  My eyes filled with tears once again. But now with joy, instead of sadness.

  “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

  Then, a smile spread across his face. Not a coy smirk, but something real, and warm. A smile that hinted at true happiness.

  “Then let’s not waste another second.”

  18

  The morning light streamed into the bedroom, covering Trent’s body in a white, glowing light. My hands were on his thighs, feeling the muscles of his legs under my fingertips as I worked on him. My mouth who full of him, and I looked up at his face was narrow, sly eyes as I moved my lips up and down his cock, soft sucking sounds filling the air over the gentle sound of the morning breeze against the curtain. I moved my hands up, taking in the texture of his taut, toned midsection muscles, while I watched his face shape into mild contortions of pleasure.

  I loved the taste of him; musky and just a little bit salty. I never got tired of waking him up in this way, starting with soft kisses along his neck, down his body, concluding at his cock. By this time, he would usually be awake, and a slow smile would spread across his face as he realized what was about to happen. I’d move slowly up his cock, savoring how his skin felt and tasted against my lips. I’d tease him a little, of course, taking my time reaching the head of cock. But, eventually, I’d take him into my mouth, my lips slipping over the ridge of his head, letting him feel the warmth of my breath on him.

  I’d bob up and down slowly, like I was doing now, his substantial length filing my mouth nearly completely. He wasn’t easy to accommodate in this was -I’d never been with a man of his…substance- but it was a learning process that I enjoyed taking part it. Eventually, I’d feel the first tangs of salt in my mouth, and I knew he was getting close. Then I would do what I was doing now, which was to pick up the pace, slide my lips over his cock faster and faster, until he came in my mouth, emptying himself in me. After that, I’d swallow every last drop, a broad smile on my face.

  But this morning was different.

  Running his hands through my hair, which was draped loosely across his thighs, he pulled me up towards him, until I was sitting straddled on top of him. I got the hint quickly, and I happily scooted backward until I was directly over his cock. Reaching down, I took it by the base, angled it upwards towards me, and guided it slowly into me, closing my eyes as each inch of him slid into my eager body.

  I say still for a moment with him fully sheathed in me, looking over his beautiful face, a look of pleasured contentment on his features as he looked up at me on top of him. His hands moved along my legs until they came to a rest on my hips, and I began rocking back on and forth on top of him.

  Like always, I began slowly, feeling the shape of his cock inside of me, taking sweet pleasure at the idea of having total control over how fast he moved in and out of me, being able to angle my body in just the right way that would hit all of the right spots at just the right pace.

  I leaned forward, placing my hands on his hard chest and moving my hips up and down, now faster, the feeling of ecstasy of his cock inside of me radiating outwards. My hair was now draped across his face, and I could hear him breathe in my scent. I moved faster and faster, now lifting my hips up and coming down on him hard, the soft sounds of skin upon skin filling the room.

  I moaned as I rode him, feeling my orgasm draw closer and closer, knowing that I was only a little bit off from cumming. Trent’s hands were gripping my soft hips more firmly, and his face was tightening in pleasure.

  “Cum for me
, baby,” I said, bouncing my hips up and down on top of him. “Cum inside of me.”

  Trent let out a low grunt, and I could tell he was right on the brink. And so was I. I increased my pace, riding him even harder, knowing that was all it would take to push me over the precipice that was just before me.

  And it did.

  My orgasm exploded through my body, jolting me into sitting upright, my back straight, my hands squeezing my breasts as I came. Trent’s orgasm soon followed, arriving with a deep, almost pained grunt as he came, shooting his load deep into me. The pace of my riding slowed as I came, the orgasm filling my body like a hot pulse.

  Then I slowed more as my and Trent’s orgasms finished until I came to a complete stop, his cock still inside of me. I could feel his cum drip out of my, trickling down my thigh, hot and wet. Spent, I collapsed at his side.

  “Mmm,” I said, resting my head on his chest. “Nice way to start the weekend.”

  “No argument here,” he said, his hand resting on my sweat-sheened hip.

  “Looks like it’s going to be another day of amazing weather,” I said, looking out of the window at the cloudless late-summer sky, the breeze cooling my body warmed from the lovemaking.

  “Looks that way,” he said. “What do you say we take Olive down to the park after breakfast?”

  “Sound perfect,” I said, already looking forward to a morning in Central Park with Trent and Olive.

  “Too bad we have to get up to make all of that happen.”

  “I know,” I said, my face in a mock-pout, “we have it so rough.”

  Minutes passed as we lay together, our bodies intertwined, my eyes closed, an expression of peaceful contentment on my face.

  Finally, it was time to get up.

  “I’m ready if you are,” I said, rolling over.

  “No time like the present,” he said, giving my rear end a playful squeeze before rolling over and out of bed.