Chapter 3

Three

Haden

Ipark my car in front of our garage, turning the engine off and taking a moment to sit in silence.

It has been the day from hell.

Aside from my comical argument with Presley, one of our top IT managers decided to resign as his wife wants to move back to New Zealand to be closer to her family. This guy, Carl, is a rare find. Works like a dog and never asks for a pay raise. He’s been employed with Lantern Publishing for over fifteen years. Now, we need to throw more money into looking for his replacement.

The day quickly turned into one giant headache until the migraine hit at three o’clock on the dot. A call came through from Henderson Marshall, one of our key shareholders and beloved family friend of my stepfather, David, who retired and left me with the reins.

Marshall has been in this industry for decades, and despite his enormous wealth, he is a risk-taker and quite often shakes up the market with his radical ideas. Today is one of those days. He wants our bestselling authors to team up and co-write. Nothing that hasn’t been done before, but then he upped the ante—cross-genre—two authors, two different genres, and one story.

There are so many things I want to say to him, but my past experience with Marshall is to let him get it out, sit quietly, and if he is dead serious, he will be at me again in a week. I don’t need the additional workload. We are under-resourced and when it comes to hiring, the employment pool is short of talent.

Like today, for instance. I don’t know what the fuck Noah was thinking by wanting to interview this girl. Noah knows better. He was our Operations Manager until he took on another role. To help me out, he still comes into the office now and then because replacing him has been difficult. His temporary replacement, Phil, is nowhere near as qualified as Noah. The guy has college degrees coming out of his fucking ass. His problem is that he has the most complicated personal life known to man. Separated from his wife to only knock up some air hostess on a one-night stand, to then come home to a wife wanting to get back together. That was a year ago. Now, he’s finally settled down with one of Presley’s best friends, Kate.

And no surprises with today. Again, he is thinking with his dick. I swear I lost brain cells sitting across from her while she explained her current role as personal assistant to some old dude who runs a used car lot in the valley.

Somewhere during her uneducated explanation of what she does in her current role, I cut her off because it was obvious, she’s giving her boss head or fucks him after hours. That shit does not happen under my watch. The last thing I need is for the men in the office to be distracted by some girl wearing a short-ass skirt and pussy screaming bare at them.

Yeah, she fucking thought that would work with me.

My phone lights up, interrupting my moment of peace, with Noah’s name flashing. He hadn’t responded to my previous three missed calls during my ride home.

“What’s up?” he greets.

“You tell me?” I bark from exhaustion, “C’mon, man. She’s all tits and pussy. At what point did you think she is right for your team? Aside from sucking your dick.”

He laughs, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t shortlist her, the recruiter did. Granted, she also wants some dick and told me last week, but that’s another story. Kate was less than pleased when I told her.”

“Honestly, man. Why did you even say anything? Presley would kill me. Did you sort out all the custody arrangements?”

“I’m trying to be mature and work something out where everyone is happy.” Noah softens his voice, remaining unusually quiet for a man who often challenges me. “I’d rather not go into it, women are complicated creatures. Morgan sure goes out of her way to make things difficult.”

I don’t envy him one bit. Timing was poor on his behalf. I genuinely feel sorry for him. The night Morgan handed him divorce papers, he sought comfort in someone else. I probably would have done the same in that situation. Bottom line is, he should have been more careful, though, he claims he used a condom. In the end, it all worked out but he still has his challenges. He is lucky he has Kate, end of story.

“Glad to be married to the old ball and chain right now,” I say, faintly.

“Speaking of ball and chain, how is Presley?”

“I don’t know, ask me in an hour. She left work without a goodbye and things are just… tense.”

“You mean she’s not sucking your dick, therefore… you’re tense, not her?”

“Whatever. Listen, I need to go. I’ll see you on Friday. Oh, and by the way, Marshall’s on my back again. We’ll talk about it later.”

I hang up the phone and take a deep breath, grabbing my things and stepping out of the car. I love my baby—my car—an SL Roadsterin black with red leather seats. Presley calls it my quarter-life crisis. Call it whatever you want. She rides like a dream, much like my wife when she plays nice.

I walk along the pebbled path toward the porch. The light is usually turned on, but this time it isn’t. Juggling my stuff in the dark, I find my keys and open the door to a dead-quiet house. The hall lamp is on, illuminating my walk toward the kitchen. The television is off, and being that it’s after nine, I’m certain Masen’s tucked in bed fast asleep until his midnight sleepwalk to our bed.

Walking toward our bedroom, the light is peeking out from under our bathroom door. I want so desperately to open it, take her in my arms and lay her flat on our bed and make love to every inch of her body. But I know she is pissed, and it all seems like too much effort having to play Mr. Nice. I am exhausted.

The door opens, and Presley walks out dressed in her white tank and my boxer shorts. She has this thing for borrowing my clothes at bedtime which doesn’t bother me. I’d sleep naked every night if I didn’t have the biggest cockblocker of a kid known to man.

Her hair is out, loose, with curls falling over her shoulder. God, this woman is so beautiful I sometimes wonder how I got so lucky.

“Oh, you’re home.”

Her tone is anything but inviting. She hasn’t even made eye contact with me, making her way toward the dresser as she puts away some socks in some sort of order I don’t care for.

“Oh, and hello to you, too. Were you going to tell me you were leaving to go home?”

“I figured you were busy interviewing, so I got a lift with Maria.”

I knew it. She’s pissed or probably jealous. Despite her stance on trusting couples and marriage vows, she has a jealous streak.

It turns me on.

Everything about her turns you on.

“You mean the young blonde with the big tits?”

She shoots me an annoyed look. “Yes, if that’s how you want to describe her.”

With a jeering smile, I move toward where she’s standing and wrap my arms around her waist, bringing her into me and rubbing my already hard dick against her ass. She smells so fucking good like the scent of fresh lilac soap, and her skin is intoxicating, doing wild things to all my senses.

“Oh, baby, you jealous?”

A sigh releases, her shoulders slumping with relief as she turns around. Playfully slapping my chest, she laces her hands around my tie and begins to unknot it.

“You’re a jerk. Thanks for taking my mug.”

“I needed coffee.”

“That’s my mug.”

“You said what’s mine is yours.”

“No! Not when it’s my mug.”

“Wait, so have we moved on from big titties?” I question, kissing the side of her neck and running the tip of my tongue along her delicate skin. Fuck, she tastes so damn good.

Presley slaps me again. “You’re an insensitive ass. I bet you were getting hard looking at her vagina!”

“Pussy, honey, no one calls it a vagina. And trust me, I wasn’t hard over her. I was hard over you being a little tease in that white dress you wore today.”

She smiles, coyly. “Well, you know Mase is asleep, right?”

I bury my face once again into her neck, kissing her skin as my hands wander into her shorts, cupping her nice perky ass. I press against her wanting to take her right now.

“I should have come home earlier.”

“Yes, you should have. By now, you would have gotten the full pleasure treatment, including blow job and anal.”

“Wow, now you’re just being a tease.”

We move toward the bed. Driven by her teasing words, I push her onto the mattress, admiring her sexy body waiting for me. I’m so fucking turned on, leaving no time to do anything but get myself inside her. Laying my body on top of hers, my lips slam against her mouth while my hands wander into her shorts, instantly rubbing her clit. Fuck me. She’s soaking wet, desperately begging me to get between her legs and eat the shit out of her beautiful pussy.

She sucks in a breath, releasing a long-winded moan while unbuttoning my pants at the same time.

I quickly kick my shoes off, cautious of wasting time.

Pulling my cock out, she begins to stroke from the base to the tip, making me groan beneath her touch.

“Seriously, why didn’t you come home sooner?”

I kiss her mouth. “Because Marshall… fucker.”

She stops, mid-kiss, pushing my chest to create distance. “Wait, what did Marshall want?”

“I don’t know… stuff.”

I position myself, ready to enter her in desperate need to cure the throbbing pain from the blue balls that have built up over the past week.

“What stuff? Tell me? He wouldn’t be calling you unless this was huge,” Presley expresses with trepidation.

“Can we talk about this later?” My fingers slide between the walls of her drenched pussy. “I need to fuck you like yesterday. I don’t want to discuss work.”

She pushes me back, again. “No, now. What did he say?”

Frustrated, I roll on my back and rub my face, aware my dick is standing hard in the middle of the room. Maybe, if I make her shut the fuck up, I can get two minutes inside that pussy of hers.

“He wants our bestselling authors to co-write. Cross-genre. Romance and sci-fi type thing.”

“Oh my God, that’s a fantastic idea. In fact, I know some great pairings who happen to be good friends. I think they will jump straight on this. I’m really excited!”

Her enthusiasm for work should be the red flag. Now, she’ll be thinking about this rather than focusing on me.

“Great. Can we get back to me sticking my dick inside you?”

There’s a creak in the floor, a familiar creak that I hear every night. Presley’s eyes widen, and with the quickest of bolts, there’s no time to zip my pants without running to the bathroom where I stub my toe on the edge of the wall, tumbling inside quick enough to slam the door just in time. The pain ricochets throughout me, forcing me to walk it off inside the small confinement of our master bath.

Fuck me, muthafucker, this shit hurts.

I’m seeing stars—yellow, black, and now just one big giant blur.

“Mommy, I hear Daddy.”

“Daddy’s just taking a shower. C’mon let’s go back to your bed.”

“No. I want Daddy. Daddy promised he’d tell me the story about how the Yankees won the World Series.”

“Of course, he did,” Presley grits.

I turn on the shower, knowing full well our night of pleasure has ended. With a kid on the other side of the door and a tense night, I didn’t even have time to release. Fuck my life.

By the time I finish my shower and try to get my dick to deflate, I brush my teeth and wrap a towel around my waist, opening the door to our bedroom.

Masen is sitting upright in Presley’s spot and waiting, wide awake, with the biggest of smiles.

Presley is nowhere to be seen.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing awake in my bed?”

I quickly duck to our walk-in-closet grabbing a tee and boxers. Putting them on, I dump the towel on the floor.

“You said you would tell me the story about the Yankees winning the World Series.”

I climb into bed, smothered by Masen’s hug as he tackles me. Okay, this kid has some sort of spell over me. I’ll admit that and call defeat.

“Hmm… I guess I did say that, but I also remember having to tell you a story about the tickle monster.”

Masen giggles, throwing the blanket over his face. “No, Daddy. We finished the story of the tickle monster. He’s gone now, far away to heaven because he died. Remember, no more, he’s gone?”

“I don’t know about that…” I wiggle my fingers the same time Masen removes the blanket, only for him to squeal. “The tickle monster is hungry, and he’s after a naughty little boy who doesn’t sleep in his own bed.”

Masen pushes my hands away, giggling so loud until I finally stop, knowing full well I shouldn’t be riling this kid up.

“Okay, no tickle monster.”

“No, tickle monster, Daddy.”

Placing my arm around him, I glance toward the bedside table as my cell lights up. It’s a text from Presley simply saying good night. I know her well enough to know she is currently sitting in our home office, wide awake with a thousand ideas on this stupid co-writing bullshit.

And this is what our marriage has become. A battle of us against parenting. And the sucky part—Masen always wins. It is impossible to say no.

“Okay, you ready?”

“I’m ready, Daddy.”

“Well, it was two-thousand-and nine…”