“Don’t you have anything to say?” he asks, and there’s a bitter tone to his voice.
“Thank you for the payment. It’s nice to see that you’re such a man of integrity,” I tell him, well aware of the sarcasm in my tone.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Poppy,” he growls. “Stop acting like a child.”
A cold smile curls my lips. “A child? You’re nothing but a womanizing coward, and if I’m such a child, what the hell were you doing with me? A man of your… advanced age… should know better.”
He glares at me. It was clear earlier that the age comment hit a sore spot with him, and this one hit home again. I can’t help going on because making him hurt is better than sitting around crying over his cheating ass.
“I mean, really. It’s surprising you didn’t have a heart attack or something, trying to keep up with me. You should get one of those alert bracelets so you can call an ambulance for when you overexert yourself.”
I have my mouth open to say something else, and he’s on me before I can do anything, his hands like vises around my upper arms. “You’re wrong. About literally everything,” he snarls, eyes locked onto mine. “And as far as my ‘advanced age,’ I didn’t hear you complaining all those times you moaned my name, begging for more. What were your exact words this morning, Poppy? Something along the lines of ‘fuck me again, Nathaniel.’ ‘I need you, Nathaniel.’ Was that it?”
I’m about to say something bitchy, but he doesn’t give me a chance.
“What you saw downstairs, little girl, was one-sided. I have no interest in Vanessa anymore. She used to be a convenient fuck, and now she’s nothing. The only piece of ass I’m interested in is yours.”
I shake my head and try to shove him away. Men like him will say anything to get what they want. Manipulative assholes. The harder I struggle, the tighter he holds me. For all my bullshit about his age, he’s strong as hell.
I try to free myself again, and before I can do anything else, his mouth is crashing down onto mine, and he’s kissing me—a punishing, hard kiss that has heat pooling low in my belly despite how pissed I am at him. I make a few more feeble attempts to pull away, but he’s biting my lower lip, and all I can do is melt into his arms and take it. I want it. I’m wet just from him kissing me, and I know this will be the last time I let him do this.
Nathaniel releases my arms, still kissing me, hard, hungry, and I feel his hands moving down my body, the fabric of my gown being hiked up. I feel the cool air on my bare legs, on my ass—the thing I’m wearing doesn’t offer a whole lot of coverage. And then his big, strong hands are on my ass, and he’s squeezing, dragging my body closer to his. I can feel his cock, long and hard against my belly, and I give a helpless moan.
“You think this is over? You’re mine and mine alone, Poppy. You’re going to see that.” He kisses me again, still squeezing my bare ass, his fingers playing over my entrance, and I whimper.
“What the ever-loving hell is this?” a familiar voice shouts, and Nathanial and I spring apart. I pull my gown back down and stare at my father, who’s standing in the doorway, gaping at us. Nathaniel steps away from me, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace, and walks toward my dad, trying to calm him down.
“What the hell were you just doing with your hands on my daughter?” my dad yells.
“Bruce, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Really. Because it looked an awful lot like you with your filthy paws on my daughter’s body.” He takes a step toward Nathaniel, and it’s clear that he’s not going to be soothed or calmed down.
“Daddy, it’s okay,” I tell him, trying to head off a potential fistfight between my dad and his boss… shit. My dad’s going to have to look for another job now.
Dad doesn’t answer. He just gives me a look. There’s disappointment in his eyes. He slowly shakes his head as he looks between the two of us, then gives a disgusted wave and turns, walking away.
It hits me as I watch him—why he’s more disappointed than anything. He’s been here. He’s been in this exact situation—where he was the older and more powerful man messing around with a young woman. I know he was in this situation because I caught him doing it. Come to think of it, she was probably around my age, the woman I caught him with when I was a kid.
He expected better from me. And he expected better than Nathaniel. And we just made him relive what I know is one of his biggest regrets—that he didn’t appreciate my mom more when she was alive, and that he spent his time on meaningless sex instead of loving her the way he should have.
A lot of the disgust and anger I have toward my dad melts a bit. He’d been very, very wrong, but he was paying for it now, and there would be no peace for him. Not really. He needed me now.
I turn to Nathaniel. “It’s over between us. Don’t call me. Don’t try to contact me. Our age difference is too much of an issue, and we have absolutely nothing to offer one another. And I sure the hell am not ready to be anyone’s stepmom—assuming there really is no wife hidden in your attic or something. Just… just stay away.”
With that, I turn on my heel and go after my dad, ignoring the way my heart aches at the look in Nathaniel’s eyes.
I manage to catch up to Dad outside, just as he’s getting into his car parked in the gallery’s private lot.
“Dad! Wait!”
He snaps his head in my direction, and even in the dim light of the nearby streetlamps, I can still see that sting of disappointment in his eyes.
“How could you have been so foolish?” he states, a kind of severity in his tone that I haven’t heard since I was a kid. “He’s double your age, Poppy. I didn’t raise you to be some older man’s fuck doll.”
His choice of words makes me reel on the inside. Despite some truth to his words, he has no right to judge me. He’s been in this exact situation. Only worse.
“You barely raised me at all,” I hurl back, allowing spite to coat my words. “You worked all the time, and on one of the very rare occasions that I did come and visit you at the office… well, you know what happened that day…”