Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

LUKAS

I grab a towel from the hook and wrap it around myself, then sit on one of the poolside chairs, rubbing my hands down on the towel and grabbing my phone. I've got ten emails that need a response and about a hundred others I can afford to push to the back burner until the VR stuff is dealt with.

Swimming naked always brings me a feral sense of freedom. Like I'm a wild man, not a CEO, and all I have to worry about is the next stroke, the motion of the water around me. Not all the responsibility that is weighing me down. Not all the self-pity that threatens to cling to me. Goddamn it. I'm sitting next to one of my two pools on this property and a house I don't live in full-time. I seriously need to get some perspective.

I pause when I hear the tapping on the glass. Turning, I see Maci, a shopping bag in one hand, waving with the other. A smile spreads across my face, the morbid feeling leaving me.

"Kayla?" I yell, grinning.

She slides the door open. "I thought you'd still be in the city," she says, dropping her bag and walking over.

She leans down, hugging me. I kiss her on the forehead.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Maci and I decided to have a little getaway," she says. "Wait a sec… Were you swimming?—"

I swallow. "Uh, yeah. I didn't know you were here."

"Thank God I was out," she says, laughing, "and Maci was asleep."

"Yeah, I don't think Marcy needs to see that."

"It's Maci ," Kayla says, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry. I won't give you too much crap about that. I'm pretty sure you've been at work every time she's come over in the past, what, few years, maybe? I know you've been busy."

"Maci," I say, nodding. "I know. I remember. I was just testing you."

She laughs, making all this hard work worthwhile. There were times when I thought she was going to fall under her mother's spell, and her mother might even try to get our baby addicted to the same filth as she was.

"Have you had breakfast?" she asks.

"Not yet."

"Just give me a chance to get dressed, and I'll whip up something to eat." She gestures down at her PJs that she must have worn to the store.

"Great. I'll shower real quick."

She goes into the house. I wrap my towel tightly around myself and walk to the sauna room, quickly showering and changing into fresh house clothes. We've got no staff out here, nobody to disturb us. It's one reason I didn't know Kayla was here. They would've told me. Now that she is here, I wonder if I should call my security detail. Sometimes, it's good to pretend we're a normal family.

When I walk into the kitchen, I pause, staring at the woman sitting at the counter. What the hell? Kayla said it was just her and her friend here, right? Is this Maci? The most beautiful woman I've ever seen sits at the counter. She's wearing a tank top that shows the outline of her bra underneath like she's tempting me to tear away the fabric and reveal her curviness. Her body is so full and thick. Her hair is long and brown, wavy, and messy from sleep. I want to run my hand through it. I need to. My heart is pounding.

Her shorts show her bare, curvy legs. I clench my fist, imagining I'm squeezing onto her body instead, imagining the sound of desire she'd make.

"Hi, Mr. Larson," she says.

"Uh… hi." I look around the room like I'm searching for an escape.

"Kayla's just freshening up."

"Right."

I walk to the coffee machine, wondering why Maci's cheeks are so flushed. She looks like she's burning up. "Coffee?" I ask.

"No, thanks. I already had one."

"Right."

I sound so stilted, so awkward. I'm not usually like this. I can generally make small talk with anybody, no matter the circumstances. It's one of the skills a CEO needs to have. As I put the pod in the machine, I'm sure I can feel Maci watching me.

"Nice swim?" she asks after a pause, her voice anxious. Maybe she finds the silence awkward.

I turn back to her. She immediately looks down at the table.

"How did you know I was swimming?" I ask, a suspicion tickling at the edge of my mind. I'm not wearing any swim gear.

"Your hair's wet," she mutters.

Somehow, I know she's lying. My hair is slightly wet, but she's hiding something. Did she see me when I climbed out to practice my diving one last time? That would explain the sexy-as-hell redness in her cheeks. Damn, what's wrong with me? I want to tear off her shirt, free those big round tits, rub her nipples, make her wet, make her mine.

"Dad." Kayla walks into the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you're making your own coffee!"

Ah, she's joking. For a terrifying second, I thought she somehow knew what thoughts were flurrying through my crazy mind. I try my best to laugh along with her. "Do you want one?" I ask.

"Now this is getting suspicious," she teases. "No, I'm okay. Why don't you sit down while I get started on breakfast?"

I sit at the kitchen bar right next to Maci. I don't realize my mistake until my leg brushes up against her. I'm wearing shorts too—something casual for the house, but now I'm rethinking my decision—and I feel the heat of her skin. I swear, she makes a slight whimpering noise. Maybe that's my imagination. Perhaps that's the hunger in me. I feel drunk.

Maci blows on her coffee, pursing her lips. It's so easy to imagine her leaning in for a kiss. Or sitting on the edge of a bed, looking up at me with those wide, innocent eyes as I bring the bulging head of my rod to her mouth. She'll moan as I slip my shaft between her lips, claiming her mouth, owning her—every damn inch. I want to grab her leg. Spank her leg and watch her juiciness ripple for me.

"So, Dad…" Kayla frowns at me, making me wonder again if she's reading my thoughts. "What are you going to do about, you know… Well, I saw the video. The live."

Somehow, talking about this is less of an intimidating prospect than risking my daughter somehow guessing the fact that, if she weren't here, I'd carry her best friend into the bedroom and kiss up and down her body. I'd kiss every single inch. I'd put my face between her legs and lick until I felt her creaming up for me.

"Just what I said," I tell my daughter. "My VR team is working around the clock to fix the problem. My job is to give them the go-ahead on certain things, mainly budget-related. We're burning a lot of cash to ensure this never happens again."

"What happened, exactly?" Kayla asks. "I'm still a little confused."

I grit my teeth, shaking my head. "I don't want to go into details. Some sick bastards used the Create Your Own Game feature to create some horrible things. Obviously, we blocked off certain content, but they found a way around it."

"At least you're doing the right thing," she murmurs. "A lot of CEOs would try to bury it."

I think about Sebastian and the chair he threw—the sound it made. My friend stormed out, and I still haven't spoken to him.

"You can't bury something this ugly," I say. "There are things more important than money."

Like the woman sitting next to me… Maci's folding her legs like she's tempting me to look down and get a good look at her thick thighs pressed together. It's like she wants me to slide my hand between her legs, push into the space between, and feel her heat, her wetness. Does she have a boyfriend? Is there any way for me to ask without seeming suspicious?

"I love you, Dad," Kayla says.

"I love you too," I reply.

She laughs. "You don't have to sound so surprised. You're just a good person. It's nice. You're different than the others, aren't you? Billionaires, I mean."

"I try to be," I say.

This is the worst time Kayla could choose to express this love. I'm turning downright savage thinking about her friend, wanting and needing her.

Kayla disappears into the pantry. I force myself to act normal, telling myself I'm not interested. It's a lie, but I've got to pretend. It's not like there's any other choice. I can't grab Maci's thick hips, bend her over to display that round juicy ass, bring my precome-slick cock to her entrance, and just drive into her. Hard. Deep. Own her hole. Fuck her like a goddamn?—

Normal. I have to try.

"So, Maci, what do you do?" I ask.

"I'm studying graphic design," she replies, fiddling with her hair like she's nervous.

I take a sip of coffee, almost spilling it. My hand is trembling. She's got me all kinds of twisted.

"That sounds interesting," I say blandly. "Why did you choose that?"

"I've always loved art," she replies. "I'm focusing on digital illustration like graphic novels, that sort of thing. Though I'm not sure that there's a future in it."

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugs. "It's competitive."

"I'm sure you could do it," I say, too passionately.

"Do what?" Kayla says, returning with the eggs.

"Be a digital illustrator," I say, forcibly removing the passion from my voice.

"Oh, definitely." Kayla places the eggs on the counter and drips some oil into a pan. "You should see her work, Dad. She's talented."

I'd love that , I almost say, but like a douche, I say nothing. My hunger for Maci may push me the other way, making me overly awkward and cruel. I shouldn't let it. I should try to behave normally , but I can't figure out what that means. If I didn't want to claim Maci, what would I say? How would I behave? I feel trapped.

It's been minutes, but I can't connect to the man I was before I saw her. I want to kiss, hold, and tell her she can conquer the world. I want to tear her underwear off with my teeth and suck on her clit so hard her whole body shakes until she orgasms and pleasure crashes through her.

No, dammit. I'm getting hard in shorts. I need to calm down before I stand up and they see.

I almost laugh at myself. Not that anything's funny, but these are some seriously insane thoughts going through my head. As a CEO, I've always tried to be conscious of my mental landscape. I like to think of it as spending mental units. I've got a hundred mental units. Where am I going to aim them? How am I going to use them most effectively?

Now, every single one is aimed at Maci. They're aimed at savage ideas of stripping her naked, kissing and biting her creamy, thick body, and making her skin as red as her nervous cheeks. I want to claim her, own her, and make her mine. This is beyond messed up. I'm getting hard with my daughter in the same room . That's just wrong.

Taking slow breaths, I do my best to smile to keep my focus anywhere except on Maci. That's the only thing I can do.

"Have you told Dad about your graphic novel?" Kayla says innocently.

"No," Maci murmurs from beside me in a small voice. Don't look at her , I roar in my mind. Her small, timid voice makes me want to turn and tell her she never has to be nervous around me. She never has to doubt if she's good enough. "We haven't been talking much."

"Well… why don't you?"

Maci laughs awkwardly, nervously. Damn . Is she feeling it, too, this hunger? Maybe that's just wishful thinking or, more accurately, self-destructive feeling. "I don't think he's interested, Kay."

"Dad ," Kalya says, giving me a look. She's being playful and lighthearted and has no idea how badly I want to claim her friend. It's probably the last thing she would imagine. "Don't be rude."

I try to smirk. "Are you trying to teach me how to be social, Kayla?"

"You know somebody has to," she teases.

Luckily, Kayla turns back to the pan, so she doesn't realize I'm purposefully not looking at her when I ask Maci, "What's your graphic novel about?"

"It's… nothing."

"Maci," Kayla laughs, shaking her head, still with her back turned. "Don't make me teach you how to be social, too."

"It's just a training project. That's how I'm looking at it. It's about a woman who falls down a well but enters a magical kingdom."

"A training project?" I ask.

"I've been trying to work on graphic novels for years," she says, "but it's always been so stop-and-start. I'll get a few pages in, and then the self-doubt will creep up on me and ruin it. So, this time, I'm working on something I don't really care about, and it's working." The passion sparking in her voice is almost enough to make me look at her. "I'm making progress. Weirdly, even if I started the project not caring, now I do."

"That sounds like a clever way to direct your mind," I say, impressed.

"Uh oh," Kayla laughs. "You're about to get Dad started on mental models, productivity, and all that jazz."

"Mental models?" Maci asks.

I can feel her staring at me. I know I need to be better and control myself, but it's just so damn difficult. I turn, drinking in the sight of her wide, interested eyes. Her lips are still pursed in that kissable, fuckable way.

"My mind has to be a well-oiled machine," I tell her, leaving out that she's currently threatening that. "I've experimented with various methods to hack my thoughts over the years. It lets me be more productive. One example was when I went for a run, I'd imagine Kayla was in danger. I wouldn't just imagine. I'd believe . It takes work. It's difficult, but it seems you already know a lot about it."

A smile touches her gorgeous lips. Her whole face changes when she smiles, lighting up attractively. She brushes a hand through her hair. Her cheeks are an even deeper shade of red now. It's like she finds it difficult to look at me. Did she see me climb out of the pool?

Soon, it's time for breakfast. We sit at the bar together. Thankfully, they start talking about college. It gives me the time I need to calm myself down. My manhood softens, but only because the idea of my daughter seeing me like this makes me sick. Even so, my underwear is sticky with precome. I was ready to go right here. I was prepared to take my woman.

My woman? Dammit.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day, girls?" I ask, purposefully using girls to emphasize the twenty years between us. I'm forty. They're twenty. The phrase she could be your daughter applies with undeniable force here when she is literally the same age as my daughter.

"College work," Kayla says. "Then maybe some board games… if you want to join us?"

"I'll see," I reply, rising from the bar. "Lots of work to do."

I flee the room, almost running, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest. It sends urgent energy through my body. I end up in my bedroom and lock the door. "End up" like it's not my responsibility.

Closing the curtains, I lie on the bed and shut my eyes. I imagine Maci sneaking in here, wearing those shorts that show off her thick legs. I imagine her biting her lip when she sees me on the bed with my cock in my hand. I've already pulled down my shorts, my shaft hard again, stroking up and down.

"You're so hard," I imagine her whispering as she walks across the room.

"It's for you. Now, show me that beautiful body."

The fantasy rushes ahead, and now she's on the bed, fully naked, her breasts full, her legs thick, and her core glistening and eager for my dick. I'm stroking so fast already. I can feel come rushing up my dick and trying to blow out.

I imagine her beautiful face and her lips pursed in that alluring way as I drive deeper and deeper into her. She'll grab my shoulders and start bouncing, riding my dick as I pump into her, making the bed shake, making her body shake. Every inch of her ripples as I hammer harder—oh, hell, harder. I'm stroking faster and harder.

Again, the fantasy shifts. She's bent over now, her big ass bouncing as I hammer into her tight slit. She moans and drives against me, grabbing thick handfuls of the sheets, her gorgeousness shaking, rippling, trembling, so thick, so curvy, so much of her to spank and kiss and own and… ah, yes, yes .

Come explodes out of my shaft, all over my stomach. It feels like I'm unloading into her soaked slit. It's like I'm filling her up so much that the come starts to spill out of her around my cock, but I don't stop. I'm still hard. I pump my hand as my come makes me even wetter. It's the most intense orgasm I can remember. It's still coming.

I imagine spanking her, watching her ass jiggle for me. Spank her as she bounces and moans, and I squeeze the tempting globes of her ass together, savoring her thickness as, finally, the last of the come burns out of me.

After I sit up, my stomach coated in stickiness, the come drips down into the indents of my abs. I grit my teeth and walk awkwardly into the en-suite, my shorts and underwear wrapped around my knees. Wiping myself clean isn't enough. I strip, get into the shower, and turn the water hot to try to burn away what I've just done.

What's wrong with me? The worst part is that I already want to do it again. No, that's not right. It's not the worst part.

The worst part is I want to do it for real .