Possessive Baby Daddy

I sip my whiskey and look back at the house, leaning against the railing, ignoring the sunset over the ocean.

The view back into my expensive showcase of a house isn’t all that great, except for the one memory I keep playing over and over.

I close my eyes and can see Klara all over again.

Petite but curvy. Maybe five foot four at most. Big blue eyes, thick red hair, smooth creamy pale skin, curvy tits and a perfect, perky ass. She was absolutely incredible, the kind of woman I can’t stop thinking about, even if I want to.

That was six weeks ago. Six weeks, and I haven’t had a single taste of another woman since. Six weeks of closing my eyes and dreaming about her.

Six weeks of hearing nothing.

I’m a fucking moron, of course. I gave her my number and didn’t get hers in return. I could look her up, figure out where she lives and all that shit. I mean, I know the production company her father owns, so it wouldn’t be so hard to track her down.

But I won’t. I don’t know why she doesn’t call, but that’s her choice. I won’t force her.

Still, that body. The way she looked at me as she unbuttoned her shirt… it was pure lust and yet still somehow innocent.

I want that look on her face again as she gets down on her knees for me.

My house feels empty as I walk back inside and refill my whiskey. I find my phone and pick it up, idly thumbing through Instagram before calling my sister back home. She answers on the second ring. “I was beginning to think you jumped off that pretty balcony of yours,” she says.

“Dark. The drop wouldn’t kill me, though.”

“Good point. Soft landing.”

I chuckle. “How’s home?”

“Oh, you know,” Lora says. “Lofthouse Manor is glorious as always.”

“How are Mom and Dad?”

“Well, Dad is off in Africa right now on some safari and Mom is hiding up in her little tower compensating by being really angry.”

“So, pretty average?”

“More or less.”

I laugh a little. Talking to my siblings usually makes me feel better, especially Lora and Delia. I’m close with the guys too, but they’re not down for casual chatting like this as much, and I totally get it. I wouldn’t want Brent to call me on a random Tuesday morning just to talk about the weather. I’m aware that I’m very much a part of the problem.

“So have you made any famous movies yet?” she asks.

I grunt in response. “Not yet.”

“I hear you hit a roadblock.”

“From who?”

“Mom.”

“Oh, great. She’s talking shit already.”

“She’s worried about you.” Lora’s voice drops a little like she’s trying not to be overheard. “And frankly, I am too.”

“What are you worried about?”

“For starters, you’re living out in LA in some crazy gorgeous house all alone. That must be hard.”

“What, you think I’m not going out every night?”

She laughs and I can imagine her lounging around in the sunroom back home. Sometimes I miss Lofthouse Manor. Even if it doesn’t always bring up good memories for me, at least it’s the closest thing I’ve got to home.

“No, Shaun, I really don’t. I think you put those days behind you.”

I sigh dramatically. “You’re right. I’ve outgrown my playboy ways.”

“I’m not kidding. You’ve been… different this last year.”

I go quiet. I know what she means. Before coming out to LA, I spent most of my time moving around the East Coast, doing whatever the fuck I wanted, going to parties and doing drugs and fucking beautiful women. But then I saw my brothers get married, my sister fell in love, and I thought…

It was time to grow up.

“Look, I know I haven’t always been the most serious guy in the world.” I hesitate and swirl my whiskey glass. “But I’m trying something out here.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

My other line beeps. I frown and glance down at the phone. It’s an unknown number.

“Lora? Hey, I got another call,” I say.

“Oh, what, some big director wants to work with you?”

“Could be. I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right. Just take care of yourself.”

“Bye, sis.” I tap my screen and the call switches over. “Hello?”

The voice sounds strained, but it’s Klara. My surprise hits me hard and my heart starts beating faster. “Hey,” she says. “Uh, hey. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I was just…”

“You were just planning on using me for an incredible one-night stand but then couldn’t resist getting another taste. Is that it?”

She laughs but it sounds hollow. “Uh, not exactly. Can we talk?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“I mean, in person.”

I frown and look at the whiskey in my hand. “Okay. Where?”

“I’m actually near your place right now. Can I swing by?”

“Sure,” I say, keeping my voice level. “But let me just say, if this isn’t a booty call, you’re sending some mixed signals.”

“It’s not a booty call,” she says. “Trust me, I just… we’ll talk, okay? See you soon.”