Except…
I guess I should start saying I would, because even smelling like a gin distillery, Dominic is sexy as hell.
And definitely a Dad I’d Like to Fuck.
I mentally scold myself. I cannot, cannot, cannot think like that. He probably still thinks of me as that kid who played with My Little Pony all those years ago. He’s probably going to reach out and pinch my cheek at any moment, or pat me on the head condescendingly.
“We should go sit down and catch up,” he says, gesturing toward the tables. “I want to hear about how life is going for you. What did you end up deciding on for your major in college? And your mom—is she still with her wife?”
“Yeah,” I say, winding toward another open table, since mine had been taken since I started chatting with Dad … Dominic. We settle into a small, two-person table and I take a sip of my cosmo, hoping it will calm my nerves. “She’s really happy with Trish. I know being told your spouse isn’t into your gender is a real hard thing to hear—” God, do I know, “but I always thought that you took that news really well. I’m proud of you for that. I don’t know that I’ve ever told you or not.”
Actually, I know I haven’t. When my parents—okay, stepdad and mom—got a divorce, I’d been heading off to college and uncertain about the world, so hearing that the one part of my life that I thought was stable—my home—was being ripped apart was really hard on me. I spent the first year at college drinking and partying a lot more than was probably advisable.
At least, if you asked my professors, they’d say that. I almost flunked out my first year, after graduating as valedictorian from my high school. I only barely made it into med school. Their divorce so fucked with my head, no lie.
He nods, a grim smile on his face. “Truthfully, it doesn’t hurt that your mom and I’s sex life was never that amazing. I know she probably thought that it was this huge revelation that she was gay, but it wasn’t to the rest of us.”
“Really?” I ask, wide-eyed. Like any kid, I’ve always had the policy of not thinking about my parent’s sex life—eewwwww—but even after my mom’s revelation, it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder how it’d been between the two of them in bed. “I had no clue.”
“Well, it’s not like we would’ve gone around and announced it to the world, or to our daughter,” he says with a wink. “I like my women to be able to drink and loosen up and have a good time, and that isn’t your mother.”
No, no it’s not. Not even a little bit. I take a sip of my cosmo, feeling the pleasant tingling of alcohol running through my veins and look up at him to see a hungry look in his eyes.
Hungry for me.
Oh my God, is my stepdad trying to imply what I think he is?
“So, how is your drink?” he asks with a sexy smile.
He is. Oh God, he is.
36
Dominic
How the fuck did I start talking about Mary and I’s sex life? Daphne is probably grossed out right now. And that joke about liking my women loose and happy, willing to drink alcohol? I really don’t know where that came from.
Maybe it was from having an entire bar hear my ex scream, “I took it up the ass for you!” at me as she’s throwing her drink in my face. That could be it. Maybe I’m a little punch drunk about the whole thing, and I'm in shock and reacting weirdly. Because it is so totally over-the-top inappropriate for me to be checking out Daphne’s legs in her red patent leather heels and her short black skirt and her tits showing above her…
I tear my eyes away and look back up at her face. The only place I should be looking, I remind myself sternly. Daphne looks flustered and I know that she picked up on my little sly innuendo.
Fuck.
Trying to cover it up, I ask quickly, “So what brings you here to the Carlyle?”
She gives me a wry smile and takes another sip of her drink. I can see the liquid on her lips, and I want nothing more than to draw my tongue across her lips, licking up the moisture.
I shift in my seat, my dick hardening as I watch her bite her lip with a frown. I could imagine those lips around my dick as she stared up at me—
“My boyfriend. Well, my ex-boyfriend now. Today’s my birthday—”
“Oh God, I forgot that! I’m so sorry. Happy birthday, sweetie.”
“It’s fine. You don’t need to go buy me a birthday cake or anything,” she says drily. “I got a pony ride for my last birthday so I don’t need one this time.”
I laugh and she grins cheekily at me. “Anyway, I wanted a birthday present—a special one—for my 26th birthday, and Roger said he’d make it happen. And, well, it didn’t. Not exactly how I’d planned, that is.”
She stutters to a stop, and I stare at her questioningly. There’s some major story there, and I’m suddenly burning with curiosity to know what it is. “What, exactly, was the birthday present?” I ask. “I mean, if you want to tell me. Only if you’re comfortable.”