Daddy's Dirty Boss

She didn’t hang around for a response, just pushed her way out of there and let the door slam behind her.

I left it a full five minutes before daring to follow, and luckily by then she’d already gone for the day.

Mr Lindon had too.Chapter SixMilesI wasn’t a drinker, not these days, but hell did I need a shot of bourbon when I got home from the office that evening. I tipped it back and poured out another, cursing myself for the thousandth fucking time for being such a deviant prick.

I couldn’t even make sense of it. The burn between us. That simmer of something so beautifully raw, calling me like a fucking siren across that sale room. She was a fucking siren across that sale room.

It should never be there between us.

She was Colin Martin’s daughter. My friend’s fucking daughter. Worse than that she was barely more than a girl, despite what those dirty little eyes had to promise. Holy fucking shit did they have a lot to promise.

I kicked back the second shot and hung my coat up on the rack. My tie tugged loose in a flash and I dropped myself down onto the sofa, flicking like frantic through the TV channels. Anything for a fucking distraction, only a distraction couldn’t be found. The TV was pointless, a sea of useless shows which did nothing whatsoever to pull me in. Eventually I flicked it off and turned my attention to my laptop, hoping to at least get some work productivity under my belt for the evening. But that was a useless piece of shit idea too.

I was flicking through auction house listings a few counties over by the time the front door sounded. I peered through the window before I answered, but it was already dark outside and the visitor was too far under the porch to catch sight of.

I should’ve known a mile off it was her.

She was in her knee-length black woollen coat, wrapped up tight. Her hair was styled straight and her lipstick was dark red, just the way I used to like it.

“What do you want?” I asked, not even bothering to smile.

She flashed me that sly little smirk of hers, eyes still frosty as shit. “Aren’t you even going to invite me in before you give me the attitude? Manners cost nothing, Miles.”

Manners cost more than the amount I was willing to spend on Erica fucking Tate these days.

She pushed past me without waiting for an invite, and I pushed the door closed out of habit. She hovered on her heels in the hallway, casting her eyes about the place like anything was likely to have changed these past few months.

“So, what do you want?” I asked again, and she leaned back against the staircase.

“Do you know that little Miss Martin was rubbing herself off in the toilet after the auction today?”

It took everything I had not to suck in breath. I acted as nonplussed as I could, despite the heat flooding through my balls at the thought of little Miss Martin fingering herself. “I have no idea what Faith Martin was doing outside of the auction today. I was otherwise engaged.”

Her eyes were fierce. “She wants you. More than that, actually. I’d say she’s pretty fucking desperate for you. Another dirty little slut wanting a piece of the boss.”

Again I acted nonplussed. I forced a shrug, then headed for the kitchen, pouring out another bourbon.

Her heels clacked loud on the tiles as she followed me. “I mean it, Miles. You need to keep her at arm’s length. The girl stinks of trouble.”

The girl didn’t stink of anything but pretty little pussy, ripe for the taking, but I wasn’t going to tell Erica that. I offered her a shot, my only real attempt at manners and she nodded a yes.

I poured one out and handed it over.

“They always get a sad little crush on you,” she said as she raised the glass to me. “Hot Mr Lindon, the big boss man. No wonder it stokes your ego. Like it needs stoking.”

I sipped a tiny swig of whisky, feeling the familiar twinge of Erica positioning herself for the move.

“What exactly do you fucking want?” I asked again, even though it was a pointless question.

“You know what I fucking want,” she hissed. “The same thing I always fucking want when I come here.”

But tonight was the first night in a thousand my cock didn’t want it back. For the first night in a thousand my cock matched my brain and despised the stupid bitch.

I was prepared when she closed the distance, my eyes as frosty as hers as her hand slid up my chest.

“Don’t try to be standoffish,” she said. “We both know what’s going down here. Stop pretending you’re done. You’re never fucking done, Miles.”