Irresistible Nights by Kaylee Monroe
Chapter Five
Marcie
“What happened last night?” Frankie practically screeched into the phone. “You gave me a thumbs-up and then—poof, gone.”
I squeezed a bead of toothpaste onto my toothbrush and set it down on the bathroom counter.
“Well, we had sex,” I started carefully, still feeling that delightful ache between my thighs from all the times we’d fucked. “And—”
“Back up,” Frankie interrupted. “Good sex? Bad sex? Don’t leave me hanging.”
I took a deep breath. “Best of my life. He may have actually fucked my brains out. I should have been having sex with older men this entire time instead of screwing around with Lucas for four years.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
I leaned over into the mirror and examined my neck. Crap, he left a hickey. “No. I snuck out after he fell asleep and came back home to crash for a couple hours.”
Frankie laughed loudly. “Of course you did. God, what a boss bitch move. So now that your dry spell’s over, will you be having sex with older men every weekend, or was this a one-time thing?”
I rolled my eyes as I picked up my toothbrush again and stuck it into my mouth. “I’m hanging up now, Frankie.”
“Wait, just one more ques—" she started, but I tapped the “end” button and cut her off before she could get the whole thing out.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I felt about sneaking out while my mystery man slept in the plush king-sized bed. My first instinct had been to stay until morning, roll around again while he pulled another shattering climax out of my body, and then see if he wanted to meet again.
And not just for sex.
But he said he was a business traveler, and I felt almost embarrassed to ask a handsome older man—with some money, if he was staying in a high-rise room at the Pacific Heights Hotel—to go on a date with me, a twenty-four-year-old consignment store owner who was still getting established in her own place. So rather than face the potential rejection, I threw my clothes on as quietly as I could, and with one last backward glance at his big naked body, legs tangled in the bright white sheets, I tiptoed out the door and back to my real life.
Fantasy over.
I finished brushing my teeth and stepped into the shower, noting the pleasant ache between my legs. Nobody had ever dominated me like that before—the demands, the dirty talk, a grown man’s sexual aggression—it was all new to me, and it thrilled me down to my bones. I sighed and leaned against the cool tile of the shower, letting the hot water beat into my skin as my fingers slipped into my swollen folds.
I slowly circled my still-sensitive clit as I remembered when he fucked me against the window the night before. He slammed in and out of me from behind while the cold glass chilled my nipples to diamond-hard points. With two fingers on my clit, he brought me just to the edge, over and over, until, with a sharp bite to my earlobe, he ordered me to stop. Finally, after denying me three times, he sank to his knees and pulled me to a shattering climax with his tongue.
I shuddered at the memory and came hard on my fingers. Then on shaking legs, my thoughts heavy with a mix of arousal, pleasure and regret, I grabbed my pouf and started soaping up my body.
Business traveler, I reminded myself as I washed him from my skin and between my legs. And long-distance never works, anyway. It was better to just enjoy the fantasy, end my extended dry spell and fondly remember the raunchy night of life-ruiningly good sex with a hot older man.
Café Marrakech was just a few doors down from the Pacific Heights Hotel. I parked my car a few blocks away and held my breath nervously as I strolled past the glass-fronted hotel. My mystery man didn’t appear, though, and when I finally exhaled, I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed.
The café door chimed as I pushed it open, and I spotted my dad right away. His espresso-brown hair, just like mine, gleamed in the light as he bounded forward and enveloped me in a tight hug. I buried my nose in his shoulder and breathed him in, a mix of laundry detergent and Old Spice, and the unexpected tears stung my eyes. My only parent since Mom died ten years ago, and I hadn’t seen him in half a year.
“I missed you so much, Daddy,” I said as he pulled away. The hot tears spilled out of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks before I could stop them.
“Aw, baby girl, what’s this?” He reached out to brush at the salty trail, then pulled me back in to kiss my cheek. “Is everything okay?”
I sniffled. “I just really missed you. Everything’s great, but it’s just been too long.”
He curved an arm around me and ushered me over to his little booth, settling me across from him before he slid into his own bench seat. I smiled at him and he returned the sentiment. For a man in his late forties, he was still physically fit and incredibly handsome.
“How’d this month’s online orders go?” he asked me, knowing exactly what to say to snap me out of my moment of melancholy. “You said you were filling up pretty fast.”
His question perked me right up. Business was our shared passion and expressing interest in my store was his love language. “Yeah, we sold out completely after I talked to you. All the sale inventory went out the door, so this month I have to find new stuff to discount so we can move it again, but I have a bead on some local designer’s last-season overstocks, so I think next month will be the best month ever.”
My dad nodded, looking satisfied. “Great. And what about your space?”
I hesitated as I picked my words carefully. “It’s good for now. But we’re going to outgrow it sooner than I thought. My accountant is putting some money aside for a new spot when the time is right, but I prioritize my loan and interest payments to you before that.”
“Honey,” my dad said in a gentle tone as he reached out and placed one hand on top of mine. “You really don’t need to pay me back right now if it’s going to hold you back. You’re my daughter, and I can forgive the loan.”
I shook my head adamantly. “No way. I’m grateful for all the help getting started, but it matters to me that I pay you back. I want to do this right.”
“Are you sure? There’s nothing wrong with accepting some help.”
When I moved to Seattle six years earlier for college, trailing behind a long-term boyfriend, I knew I wanted to start my own boutique, and two years ago, with a fresh diploma and a recent breakup, Dad handed me a folded check to cover all of my estimated startup costs and a few months of living expenses for myself. I tore up the check and came up with a business plan instead, and submitted it to him along with a detailed loaned repayment plan for a different, smaller amount. He wrote the check on the spot, and despite his protests that the loan was always a gift, I wired payments back to him every month. And if my luck held, especially with our growing e-commerce, I would pay off the loan in full ahead of schedule.
“Yeah, Daddy,” I replied. “I’m positive.”
Over a lunch of delicious chicken tagine, he grilled me over every part of the business, including pricing structure, payroll and staffing.
“So you think you can handle another employee?” he said around a mouthful of rice.
I sipped my tea thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think we probably can. Just my own nerves holding me back.”
He set his fork down and pushed the plate away, groaning as he patted his flat stomach. “God, that was good. Good thing that there’s all these goddamn hills around here to help me burn it off.”
I snorted. “Like you won’t spend two hours in the hotel gym later.”
“Actually,” he said, brightening slightly. “If you have the time, I’m about to go meet up with Sawyer. Do you want to come with me? You haven’t met him yet, and I’d love to spend a little more time with you before you run off back to your glamorous Seattle life.”
“Sawyer.” I frowned. “Remind me again what he does? You’ve mentioned the name.”
“He’s based in Minneapolis now, but he’s partnering with me on a building we want to buy out here,” Dad explained. “Hopefully one of several, but we’ll see how things go. He would move to Seattle and run the offices here.”
Oh, that Sawyer. Dad had dropped the name a few times during our weekly phone calls, and I gathered that his work with Sawyer was taking up more and more of his time. I might as well meet the guy, since he might be around long-term as my father’s business partner.
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “It’s my day off, so I may as well.”
“Fantastic.” Dad picked up his phone and tapped at the screen. “He’s actually at a coffee shop down the street, so let’s walk. I need to move around after all that food anyway.”
Bright early spring sunshine shone down from the startlingly clear sky, a rarity for Seattle, and I breathed deeply as we stepped out on the sidewalk, inhaling the city smells and underneath it, the salty tang of the ocean.
“You really do love it here,” Dad said thoughtfully, his eyes on me as we walked. “And today especially you seem really…happy and alive.”
I paused to look in the window of another retail store, assessing the display and selection with a practiced eye.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Seattle is kind of it for me. It’s the place where I feel most like myself, and like I can do anything I want to do.”
His hand landed on my back, warm and comforting. “If that’s what you need so you can thrive, then that’s what I want for you. Even if I do miss you terribly.”
I followed Dad a few blocks down the street, past the Pacific Heights Hotel again and over to a big chain coffee shop. In the softly lit interior, mellow jazz music floated in through hidden speakers, and just a few people at the scattered tables, most of them typing away on laptops and tablets.
Dad pointed to seated figure at a corner table, facing away from us, wearing a fleece sweater and a purple baseball cap. The way he hunched over his laptop, absorbed in his work as he tapped away with absolute focus, reminded me of my dad.
After Mom died, Dad reorganized all of his work hours to be with me when I came home from school, working late every night to make up the difference. I would sneak out of bed and find him slouched in front of his laptop, working relentlessly to take care of me and the employees who depended on him. I smiled at the memory. It wasn’t painful to me anymore—instead, I just felt grateful to have a parent who sacrificed so much to be available for his traumatized daughter.
“Sawyer,” Dad called out.
At the sound of Dad’s voice, Sawyer startled, then stood up and turned around to face us. A faint thread of shock traveled across his features when he saw me, but he pasted on a friendly smile almost immediately, before my father could notice, and closed the distance between us.
“Marcie,” Dad said as Sawyer stepped closer. “Meet my new business partner, Denton Sawyer. And Denton, this is my daughter, Marcie Davenport.”
“Clive’s told me a lot about you,” Sawyer—Denton said as he stepped closer. He rested a big hand on my shoulder and pulled me in closer. “Can I hug you? I feel like I know you already.”
I nodded weakly, still trying to process this crazy twist of fate. “Absolutely.”
Denton drew me closer and I awkwardly patted his back as he wrapped his arms around me. Carefully, to avoid attracting my Dad’s attention, he nuzzled into my hair and took a deep breath.
“It’s good to see you again,” he whispered in my ear.
Denton Sawyer wasn’t just some guy, or my dad’s new business partner. I knew that face, those arms and that big, tall body. All of him. Intimately.
He was my mystery man.
And I was well and truly fucked.