Next Door Daddy Read online

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say. Brad might be a total dick, but I also might die of boredom if I don’t find something to do. I wince as I text him a quick “hey, what’s up?” Of course, he texts me back instantly.

  “Nm, u?”

  “Bored”, I text back. I look out my window at Logan’s house wishing he was still there, and I’m already regretting engaging Brad.

  “Wanna chill?” Brad texts back. “I could pick up some booze and come over.”

  I know it’s a really terrible idea, but the fear of actually passing away from boredom is too strong. “Sure,” I respond. “My aunt’s out of town.”

  Brad never texts back, but less than fifteen minutes later, his pimped-out Mercedes G-Wagon rolls up the driveway. I’ve changed into a skirt and a loose-fitting t-shirt, with my hair down and wild, and I have zero makeup on. I’m not at all dolled up for this. I’m pretty sure Brad probably thinks he’s getting lucky tonight, but I know damn well he’s not. He’s not at all my type, for starters. And secondly, I’m definitely just using him for alcohol. Besides that, I’ve made it through four years of a very hook-up hungry high school, and one year of Greek life partying at college without losing my virginity. I’ll be damned if I let an entitled ass like Brad take it just to not be bored.

  “Damn, you look fucking fine, Lacey.”

  “Thanks,” I smile plastically as I let Brad in through the back door. “So, what are we drinking?”

  “I dunno, what do you have?”

  Confusion crosses my face. “I thought you were bringing alcohol?”

  Brad laughs. “Oh, yeah, that. My stepmom is a bitch and took my fake ID. Let’s just raid your aunt’s bar.”

  My heart sinks. “My Aunt Helen is sober.”

  It’s not a lie, and it might be one of her few redeeming qualities. She’s bad enough sober. I can’t even imagine how awful she’d be if she drank.

  “Fuck, seriously?” Brad scowls.

  “Yeah, there’s no alcohol in the house.” Which means now I’m fucking stuck with Brad, and I can’t even numb him out with booze.

  “That’s cool, I brought something else to do.” Brad grins widely. He sticks his hand in his pocket, and pulls out a little bag of white powder, which he drops on the kitchen counter.

  “What is that?”

  He grins. “Coke. C’mon, let’s get lit.”

  I frown at the drugs. Sure, I partied a little too much at college, and drank a bit more than I should have. But drugs have never been my thing, and that’s one more thing I won’t be trying for the first time tonight with Brad. “Uh, that’s not really my thing.”

  “You just haven’t had the right coke,” Brad grins. “You gotta try this.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Seriously? Lacey, this is fucking amazing blow.”

  I shake my head again. “It’s all yours then.” Brad frowns, and I know what he’s thinking. I might be a virgin, but I’m not naïve. Brad wants me to “loosen up,” whether through alcohol or drugs, because he thinks he’s going to get some tonight. The thought has my mind wandering to Logan, who’s probably “getting some” at this very moment. The thought has me scowling angrily, and the jealousy simmers inside of me.

  But then I think of something else. I remember my exchange with Logan earlier at his front gate before he opened it up and jogged up his driveway. I replay the exchange, and I suddenly realize something: I saw Logan type in the passcode to his gate.

  “I know where we can get booze,” I blurt out.

  Oh, it’s a really bad idea, but I decide not to care. Opening the gate is easy with the passcode. Up at the house, I wonder for a second if we’re really going to have to break in with a rock through a window or something. But then I realize the back door to his study is unlocked, and we’re in.

  An hour later, I’m in Logan Kane’s house for the very first time, and I’m lying on the couch in his study. Brad has some terrible music playing loudly on the stereo as he pours me another very, very large glass of red wine from Logan’s collection.

  “You don’t think these are like, his most expensive ones, do you?” I mumble. We’re most of the way through our second bottle, and the wine is super good, even to my untrained pallet. I’m also quickly becoming very, very drunk.

  Brad just shrugs. “Who cares? The guy can definitely afford it.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want him to notice it’s gone.”

  “Lacey, there are like four thousand bottles down there. He’s just another rich guy with wine. My dad’s got a few thousand in our cellar, too. But he’s smart enough to lock it.”

  I swing my legs down to sit on the edge of the sofa, and my head feels like it’s spinning. Yikes, I need to slow down. Brad hands me the fresh glass. I hesitate, knowing I’ve had too much. But he pushes it closer to me until I finally take it. When I do, he doesn’t go back to the chair he’s been in while we drank the first three glasses. He lingers instead, looking down at me and drinking deeply from his own glass. “Have I told you how hot you look tonight?”

  I stiffen. The wine is making me warm, silly, lightheaded, and quite drunk. But I’m not drunk enough to forget how much I don’t really like Brad. And I’m definitely not drunk enough to want to give in to his obvious passes.

  “You know what?” My words are a little slurred, but I smile like I haven’t heard what Brad just said. “We should finish this one and get out. You know, before he comes home.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Brad murmurs. He gives me this look, and I can tell he thinks it’s a sexy look, but it just freaks me out. “Let’s fuck on his bed.”

  My face sours. “What?”

  Brad laughs. “Hey, he’s got this big-ass house and all this wine, and he leaves it unlocked? I bet he’s got a sick bed. C’mon, Lacey. Don’t act like you don’t want some.”

  “I actually think I need to get home.” My words slur again, and I put the glass of wine down on the table next to the couch. “We should get out of here.”

  “Don’t be a fucking tease, Lacey. You’ve been leading me on all summer.”

  I stare up at him as my head swims with the alcohol. “Brad, I think you’ve got the wrong idea. Can we just get out of here?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so.” His smile fades, and I stiffen. “No more teasing, Lacey. I could’ve hooked up with like four other girls tonight, but I came to hang out with you.”

  “Brad, I’m sorry if you’ve got the wrong idea…”

  “Only because you gave me the wrong idea,” he mutters. “Now c’mon. I know you want this.”

  He starts to open his belt, and I freeze with fear. “Brad, stop it.” I stand, but Brad shoves me back onto the couch. I swear at him and stand again, but this time, he shoves me even harder. “What the fuck!” I yell.

  “What the fuck is you’re gonna suck my dick, Lacey,” Brad snarls. I scream as he grabs a fistful of my hair, but then suddenly, the door to the room slams open with a crash. Brad whips around, jeans unbuttoned, and I stare at the sight of Logan Kane storming into the room. He looked pissed earlier with the mailbox thing. But this time, he looks almost demonically furious.

  Drunk me knows I’m about to be in some serious trouble. But drunk me also can’t stop staring at the furious looking Logan Kane and thinking that he looks hotter than I’ve ever seen him before.

  “You,” he snarls. He thunders across the room towards us looking right at Brad. “Take your fucking hands off of her right now!”

  3

  Logan

  The little shit screams like a little girl as I grab him by the neck with one hand. I jerk him away from Lacey and fling him across the room, sending him crashing into a bookshelf. There’s a snarl on my lips like an animal’s as I stomp over to where the asshole is cowering on the floor. I grab his collar and yank him to his feet. He swears and swings a wild fist, but I dodge it easily. In return, I head-butt him, and the little bitch screams as blood streams from his broken
nose.

  The rage isn’t spontaneous. It’s been building for the last hour while I drove home at a reckless speed from the city. The motion sensors in the house kicked on and alerted my phone the second they stepped in. The cameras streamed their theft of my wine cellar, and then holing up in my office to drink their spoils. I watched with fury as the little fuck poured her drink after drink, pouring his into a planter on my shelf instead of drinking it while I floored it home. And now, he’s going to feel my wrath.

  I don’t give a shit about the wine. Yes, they killed two bottles of $3,500 Chateau Margaux, but who cares? What I give a shit about is that this little creep almost had her. He almost took her. I want to tell myself that I’m angry about the potential crime and of his forcing himself on her. But I know that’s only half of it. What has me seeing red is that this little fuck almost laid hands on Lacey.

  I drop the kid to the ground, and two baggies fall out of the pocket of his hoodie. One is clearly cocaine. He freaks and tries to stop me when I reach for the other one, but I kick his hand away and grab it anyways. I hold it up in the light, and the rage roars inside of me: roofies. The pills in the other bag are roofies.

  “You little fuck,” I snarl as I grab him by the neck again. But suddenly, he twists out of my arms and bolts for the door. I’m about to run him down and call the cops when there’s a thud behind me. I whip my head around just in time to see Lacey slump to the ground after banging her head off the coffee table. I hear my front door open and slam shut, but I leave it. Fuck it. I’ll find the prick later with the footage from my cameras. Right now, though, it’s Lacey that needs my attention.

  She groans and cradles her head in her hands. I kneel down next to her, and suddenly realize how drunk she is. The scent of wine wafts over me, and she looks up at me with scared, innocent, glazed eyes.

  “I-I gotta go,” she slurs.

  “Like fucking hell you are,” I growl. I reach down to help her up, but she slaps my hands away.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!” She breathes pure red wine at me, and I roll my eyes.

  “Calm down. Let’s get you off the damn floor at least.”

  I reach for her again, but she kicks at my hands and scampers to her own feet. She sways on them and eyes me with a mix of sassiness and fear. “I really gotta go.”

  “You’re really not going fucking anywhere, young lady,” I snap back. “You understand the concept of breaking and entering, don’t you?”

  “I was just…” she seems at a loss for words, so I answer for her.

  “Visiting?”

  “Yeah, that. And now I have to go.”

  She turns like she’s about to just walk away from this, but I stop her cold with one sentence. “Your aunt is out of town all week, isn’t she?” Lacey freezes, and I smile coolly. “I bumped into her this morning on my run and she mentioned it. That why you’re breaking into my house to steal my wine?”

  “Your house was unlocked,” she mutters.

  “It’s still breaking in, Lacey.”

  “I’m gonna pay for the wine.”

  “No shit. But that’s not the point.”

  Lacey turns and glances at me. She’s got that alcohol-induced “sassy drunk girl” look which might be more amusing than she thinks it is. “Mr. Kane, I’m sorry. I’m gonna go home now.”

  “You’re really not.” I move quickly, crossing the room until my hand grips her arm tight. She gasps and screams as she tries to twist away from me, but I hold firm. I know this isn’t maybe the right move here, especially since she’s a damn adult. But I’m not letting her stumble home alone in the dark to an empty house. She’s wasted and judging by how much she drank in the time frame she did, the full drunk hasn’t even hit her yet.

  “Let go of me!” Lacey screams as I pick her up into my arms. She slaps at me as she twists and fights. “You’re not the fucking boss of me!” She slurs drunkenly. But right now, whether she knows it or not or wants to admit it or not, I damn well am.

  I ignore the slaps and the hits and I climb one of the staircases to the second floor of my house. Lacey screams at me, and then screams louder that she’s being kidnapped. I keep holding her tight as I walk down a hallway to one of my several spare bedrooms and open the door. At the sight of the bed, Lacey freaks even more.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me! No! Mr. Kane, don’t you fucking dare!”

  “Sit,” I bark as I drop her on her ass on side of the bed. She glares at me angrily, but she doesn’t say a word. “Stay right there.” I march over to the door and lock it, and then I step into the en suite bathroom. There’s Tylenol in the medicine cabinet and a spare glass on the counter. I fill it with water and bring her two of the pills. Miraculously, she’s still sitting on the bed.

  “Take this,” I grunt, giving her the pills and the glass of water.

  “Trying to knock me out and take advantage of me, huh?”

  “Calm the fuck down and take them,” I growl.

  “No!” She sasses back.

  I groan. “Take them or I’ll make you take them. Its Tylenol calm down. You’re going to need it.” She glares at me, but she does take the pills with a swallow of water. “Now, you’re staying here tonight.”

  Her face turns pink, and she stammers. “I’m not going to—”

  “It isn’t a discussion,” I growl. “You’re not going home alone and drunk like this. You’re going to sleep it off. I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” She snaps petulantly.

  I walk away instead of answering. What’s wrong with them is that they’re making me fucking hard. I feel the wrongness in even thinking it the minute I do. But there’s no denying it. Not after weeks of watching her. If I choose to be honest with myself, I’ll admit that it’s been much longer than weeks. I’ve tried to tell myself for far too long that I’m not looking at her like that when in fact I am. I’ve tried to drown my desires in drink and other women. But whiskey and wine can’t quench a thirst there’s only one cure for. And no other woman in the world can even get my pulse going half as fast as she does.

  The cold hard truth of it is that I’ve been lusting after Lacey Wheatley for far too long. I’ve done my damnedest not to, but it’s not fucking working. Not with Lacey. I’m twice her goddamn age, and that hasn’t done shit to dissuade the bestial lust inside of me. It’s like she’s temptation personified. She’s the forbidden fruit.

  “Mr. Kane…”

  “Just stay here,” I growl over my shoulder. I open the door to the bedroom and step out. It’s barely closed before I let my air out slowly through a tense mouth. Shit, having her here is a godawful idea.

  I keep breathing, trying to calm my nerves and quell the fire burning hot in my center as I head to the master bedroom. In the back of my enormous walk-in closet, I dig through a drawer for an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for her to sleep off the wine in before I head back to the guest room.

  “These are going to be too big on you, but they’ll….”

  Aww fuck. The moment I step into the room, I know I’m fucked, and I know there’s no redeeming myself from the dark and primal thoughts that what I see bring up inside of me. Lacey’s asleep—passed out cold on the bed where I left her. Except, that’s not all of it.

  In her drunk state, while I’ve been out of the room, it’s like she decided to start changing for bed before just giving up. Her t-shirt is in a little pile on the floor with her sandals, and I groan deeply as my eyes slide over the sight before me.

  Lacey’s on her stomach, her smooth, toned back bare but for the black straps of her lace bra and the tumble of blonde cascading over her shoulders. She’s got one leg pulled up, knee bent, and my cock lurches and hardens as my eyes move lower. Her skirt is flipped up to her waist, and between her slightly parted legs right between her smooth, creamy thighs, her tiny black thong is molded against her pussy.

  God help me, my cock is harder than it’s ever been as my eyes drink in
the sight of her like that. Every voice in my head screams how wrong and fucked up this is, but I don’t look away. I’m not even sure I could. She’s so young… almost too young, but the red-blooded man in me simply groans and growls at the sight before me.

  Her thong is pulled tight against her mound, so much so that I can almost see her bare, shaved-smooth lips around the edges. It disappears between the tight globes of her ass, and my pulse pounds at the sight. My cock throbs hard against my slacks, and I can feel my balls tingling with the animal lust inside of me.

  My eyes burn into her fiercely before I growl and pull my gaze away. I close my eyes tight, breathing deeply as I try to wrest back control of the lust.

  “Lacey.”

  I clear my throat loudly, but her only response is a small, adorable snore. She barely even shifts on the bed, and when I look back, I suck in a breath of air. Shit, her legs are even wider apart, and this time, her thong slips a little more to the side, giving me a glimpse of her pink pussy—her wet pink pussy.

  I groan deeply, and I’m barely able to stop my hand before it slides to the front of my pants to cup my dick. For a moment, I wonder if I should change her myself before I realize what an utterly terrible idea it would be for me to undress this gorgeous nineteen-year-old temptation laying in front of me. Me being rock-hard would only make it even worse.

  Instead, I lay the clothes on foot of the bed and tug a blanket over her. With her covered now, I let out a shaky breath, calming myself. I glance at Lacey once more and then walk out of the room with every nerve in my body on edge. I march right back to my master suite and into the huge white marble and chrome bathroom. The shower spray is hot instantly, I shed my clothes and step in. The growl rumbles on my lips as I wrap my hand around my throbbing hard dick. I start to stroke, and I hiss in pleasure.