Page 33 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

Smiling, I take it from him. “Thanks.” I wipe myself clean, and when he holds out his hand, I pass him back the cloth. “I’d better be going.”

His face drops. “Aren’t you staying? I hoped you would. I would like you to.” Was he blushing? That was so hot.

“Um, okay. Are you sure? I mean, yes, I’d like to.” Heat floods my cheeks as a grin spreads over his face.

He jumps back into bed, wraps me in his arms, and kisses me. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

I snuggle down into his embrace, contentment washing over me, something I’ve hardly felt with other hook-ups. If I’m not careful, I will like this man a bit too much.

I wake up slowly, my brain moving faster than the rest of my body. As I stretch, my arse aches pleasantly. Mmmm, Carl and his amazing dick. We’ve managed it twice more in the night.

“That’s a lovely smile to wake up to,” a deep voice rumbles. I open my eyes. “Good morning, little one.”

“Good morning, Daddy.” Hey, I don’t feel embarrassed calling him that, not even now it’s daylight. He’s still as gorgeous as last night. He leans in for a kiss, as tender and unhurried as the ones we shared last night. When he pulls away, I lick over my lip, capturing a little more of his flavour.

“Do you need to be anywhere today?” He drags me on top of him, his erection solid between us. I rock my hips, enjoying our cocks rubbing against each other, then still. Fuck! Work. Oh god.

“What time is it?” Panic rockets through me. I push off his body, looking around for a clock. There. The red numbers of his alarm clock on his side table glow 8:17. “Crap, I’ve got to go. I need to get to work.” I groan. I’m never going to make it back home, then to work. Have I got enough cash for a taxi? I seriously don’t want to do the walk of shame on the bloody bus.

“Spencer, what time do you need to be at work?” His voice is calm and controlled as I jump about, trying to find my entirely inappropriate clothes.

“Half past nine, but I need to get home and changed.” I sniff my skin and grimace. “And a shower. I stink of sex.” I spy my shorts and pick them up, but before I can shove my feet into the legs, Carl stands in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders.

“Steady, little one. I’ll get you to your work on time. Go and have a shower. I’ll find you something else to wear home.” He hugs me close. “God, you’re adorable. And for the record, I love that you smell of sex.”

He releases me and, with a gentle nudge, points me towards the en-suite bathroom. A slap hits my arse, and I screech but can’t help the giggle as I scuttle off. His bathroom is as I expected and, from what little I know of him, so like him—expensive and stylish. The tiled walls look like slate but with blue and copper striations. It’s stunning, masculine yet warm. The towels on the floating shelves between the matching sinks are the same cobalt and rust. The shower is most definitely big enough for two and has four showerheads. I turn on what hopefully is the one overhead. Water pours out, instantly steaming up the cubicle. I yelp and jump back. The water is scalding hot. Carl obviously has a much better boiler than my crappy combi boiler. After I find which knob controls the temperature, I grab the bottle of shower gel, squeeze some into my hand, and rub over my stomach. The remnants of dried cum quickly dissolve. The scent of the gel is intoxicating, a rich, heavy mix of amber and cinnamon and totally Carl. I like that I’ll smell like him today, which reminds me of work and my need to hurry. I scrub my hair with the shampoo on the shelf and rinse off, then turn off the water. When I step out, Carl holds out a towel, and my cheeks heat. I hate that wretched blush.

“I love how you blush after what we did last night, little one. It makes you even more adorable.” He drops a kiss on my startled mouth, then points to the sink. “There’s a new toothbrush for you too.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” I wink, quickly brush my teeth, and walk back into the bedroom. Carl is already dressed in a sharp, expensive navy suit that fits him as if it’s been made forhim. The lilac button-down shirt highlights the gorgeous colour of his eyes, an unusual blend of blue and grey.

“I found you a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie.” He gestures to the bed. “They shouldn’t be too huge on you. Get dressed, and we can go.”

Minutes later, we step into the lift, and this time he pushes for the lower ground. “There’s a garage underneath, secure parking.”

“Of course there is. None of the street parking for the residents of your building.” I roll my eyes, and he laughs.

He presses the key fob in his hand. Why am I surprised when the lights of a brand-new Porsche Macan flash?

“Car dealer, remember.” He nudges me forward to the passenger side of the exquisite black vehicle. When we get in, he turns on the ignition and taps the screen for the satnav. “Put your address in there, little one.”

I type in my address and set Go. “I could’ve given you directions, you know that, right?” He now has my address in his system, but will he keep it after dropping me off? “I don’t live in a very nice place, but I’m trying to make things better. I work two jobs and save everything I can, so please can you pretend it’s not a dump when you see it?” The words come out in a hurried jumble. I stare ahead, not wanting to see his reaction.

“Spencer, why would you think that would make a difference to me? It’s admirable that you’re working as hard as you are. I had to do the same thing. I didn’t grow up in the luxury I’m lucky enough to have now. I had to work hard to succeed, which is something I instil in my children. They don’t get everything handed to them on a silver platter. But I know I’ve helped them more than I should’ve.”

“You have kids? Are you married? Shit!”

“Of course I’m not married. What do you take me for? I’m divorced and have been for six years. I have two children. Nate is twenty-three, and Charlotte is nineteen.”

He has kids the same age or younger than me. But does it matter? We hooked up. It was a one-night stand, simple as that.

We turn into my street, which is lined with large oaks. The big red brick semi-detached Victorian houses were once family homes, but now most of them are split into flats with a communal entrance. I’m proud I live by myself, even if my mum and dad help me out every now and again.

I point at a house with a red front door and two bicycles propped up to the three steps. “It’s that one.”

“How far do you work from here? I’d like to take you to make sure you’re not going to be late.” He gives me a kind a smile, but a shadow flickers in his eyes. Did he regret offering?

“Thank you. That would be awesome. Do you want to come in while I get changed?”

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