Dalton
Fucking Penny was like winning the lottery, but I knew it would be. Between her sweet naïve attitude and the shock in her eyes when she realized how sex was supposed to be, I was hooked. Her pussy was so tight and so sweet that in the twenty-four hours since I’ve fucked her, I swear I can still feel myself inside her. I’ve had plenty of fun in my life, but watching Penny figure out and own what she wanted, is unmatched.
Seven is her limit if I include the leisurely orgasm I gave her in the shower the next morning.
Leaving that hotel, coming back to reality has been nearly impossible. I’m tempted to stay at her place, but things are still too new, and I know I won’t get any sleep if I do.
Work today feels like it is a week long. All I want to do is get back to my place and show Penny some new moves to make her orgasm even better. I get things done, but my heart isn’t in it. As soon as I’m able to be, I’m back at her door.
“He’s here,” Penny’s sweet voice says as her door flies open. She has all the energy of the host of a surprise party, and I seem to be the guest of honor. Pulling me by the arm, she yanks me into her apartment. Although I can easily plant my feet and keep her from moving me an inch, I let her tug me along.
There’s no other woman I’d play this game with. But the fun ends abruptly when I realize who she’s dragging me toward.
“Dad?” I cough out, as I watch my father rise from Penny’s couch with a good amount of old-man effort. His hair is shaggy and white, and the whiskers on his chin are sprouting in all different directions. He looks at me with watery brown eyes and gaunt cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“He was waiting in the lobby, and I heard the doorman say he’d have to move along if Mr. Dalton Croft wasn’t back soon. They were trying to be nice to him, but you know how people are in this building. I invited him to wait at my place until you came home.”
There was a business meeting two years ago that I dialed into, not realizing no one but me spoke English. I was between assistants, and I hadn’t thought to bring a translator on the line. This moment feels just about the same. There are words being spoken, information being disseminated, yet I have no idea what’s going on.
“It’s good to see you, Son,” my father says as he ambles gingerly toward me. It has only been a few months since I saw him last. Right? Or was it last year? My antenna for his bullshit is instantly on high alert. I’ve seen him do some despicable things when he’s in debt, so maybe he’s dropped thirty pounds and let his hair go stark white to tug at my heartstrings. He should know better. I cut those things off years ago.
“What are you doing here?” I bark out harshly, and I see Penny’s back stiffen and her face crease with concern.
“He’s visiting you,” she answers for him, and it makes my blood boil. He already has her fooled. This old-man act, the way he has his hat politely tucked under his arm and his cardigan sweater neatly buttoned, is enough to make me sick. “Miles, please sit back down. I’ll finish making tea. Dalton, can I get you a cup?” Her brows are high and her glare is demanding something of me. Something I have no intention to give.
Civility.
Kindness.
She has no idea how wrong she is to assume this man deserves it.
“I’ve been calling you,” my father says, and it grates on my skin to the point that I want to punch something. He always brings the worst out in me, and it’s about to be on display for Penny.
“Don’t make tea,” I yell at Penny, who’s trying to gracefully disappear into the kitchen and give us some space. “He’s leaving.”
“He can take a mug over to your place,” Penny says, her voice too cheery for the volatility of this moment. “I’ll get it back from you later.”
“He’s not coming to my apartment. He’s leaving.” I point to the door, and my father knows well enough that I’m serious. He doesn’t argue as he shuffles in that direction.
“Miles, don’t you dare leave,” Penny says, pushing her fists into her hips and staring me down. “He’s my guest, and I’ve offered him a drink. He will stay and enjoy it as long as he likes. If that’s not good with you, then by all means, you know where the door is.”
“You don’t know him,” I argue, as the flip-book of all his failures unfolds in my mind. He’s likely to steal something right off her shelf if he’s desperate for money. A pang of guilt bolts through me as I realize up until this point I’m the only one who’s taken something from her. Watch out, the apple isn’t falling too far from the tree.
“Let’s see,” Penny says, tapping a finger to her chin. “So far, he’s been abundantly polite, gracious, and kind. So I suppose we can rule those characteristics out as genetic. You certainly didn’t inherit them.”
There’s a fleeting desire in me to explain that my father is an actor. He wields charm like a weapon, a dangerous one. But I’ve had this fight before. I’ve warned plenty of people to keep clear of him. The trouble with that is, in the moment, I look like the asshole. It’s not until my father becomes the pin that pops the balloon of their delusions, that they finally realize how right I am.
This latest development in what has become a never-ending saga of disruption to my life is the last straw.
“He’s not worth your time.” I point accusingly at my father, who doesn’t bat an eye, because he knows it’s true. “Enjoy your tea.”
I storm out, the way he has a dozen times in my life, the way I started doing to him when I was old enough to see through his game. He only cares about me when his luck is low, and no one cares about him. As soon as his financial situations swings upward, he has no time for me.
Penny’s eyes are on me. I can feel her shooting daggers in my direction. For the first time in my life, I hate knowing I’m disappointing someone. Penny can’t understand because her father has been her world for so long. Her expectation in a father is much higher than mine. And here he is, somehow affecting my relationship with someone I actually give a fuck about. I won’t let him take this from me.
I hear her behind me, asking my father if he’d like cream and sugar in his tea, and my father kindly accepting. I nearly pace a hole in my hardwood floors going slowly insane knowing he’s still at her place. I occasionally hear a rumble of laughter from the other side of the wall, and I imagine what kind of bullshit stories my father is telling. He’s probably painting a picture of a happy life that never was.
A tiny knock on my door snaps me from angry stewing, and I wonder if my father has the balls to come over here. I don’t need him anymore, and I’m done caring what happens to him. We have a routine, and he’s the one breaking it. Once a year we get together, drink a bottle of Scotch, and tolerate each other for a few hours. I do it solely to make sure he’s not a liability to me personally or professionally. I fish around to see what scams he’s running, and I give him enough cash to keep him out of trouble. Then it’s a cold goodbye until next year. Simple. Efficient.
I should have known when he started calling me weeks ago that he’s either out of cash or in trouble. It wouldn’t be that hard to find his latest address and send a check. I could have avoided this all together.
“What?” I bark at the closed door that I don’t intend to open.
“Dalton.” Penny sighs, and I feel a punch to my chest. “Let me in.”
Reluctantly I open the door, and she stands there, looking worried. Why can’t she stay indignant or pissed off? That’s easy to combat. I know how to argue with someone who’s fiery and mad. Making them look like the asshole is easy. But someone who waltzes up looking empathetic and concerned. That’s a real challenge. Especially Penny.
Because I care what she thinks.
“Yes?” I say again, but much more gently this time.
“I’m sure you and your dad have some baggage,” Penny begins, as though she’s given this a lot of thought.
“Don’t.” She needs to stop there. “There’s literally nothing you can say that will make a difference. My father is not your father. I know your dad is your hero. That’s not my deal.”
“My dad is not perfect,” she counters. “People aren’t perfect, Dalton.”
“We can sure as hell agree on that.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Listen,” I say, my voice rising with anger as I point between the two of us, “I don’t do this. I don’t explain myself, and I don’t want to start.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Penny says, her eyes flying wide open with astonishment.
“I don’t like people messing in my business.”
Her hands go to her hips. “And how have I done that?”
“You had my father over for tea.”
“Should I have left an old, sick man alone in the lobby? They were going to put him out on the street to wait for you, because this building is full of rules and heartless people. Excuse me for having compassion. How am I supposed to know you two can’t deal with each other for more than two minutes?”
“Sick?” I scoff. “Is that what he told you? Did he ask for money for medical bills or something? I will say this is a new angle for him. He must be really in debt this time.”
“Talk to your father, Dalton,” Penny says as she turns on her heel and leaves me standing alone in my doorway. “Stop being an idiot.”