Falling for the Single Dad

Single Dad of Seattle, Liam Dixon has a kick-*ss life. He's a successful divorce attorney with a great kid, and an ongoing Wednesday night no-strings booty call. But seeing his fellow single dads fall in love and happier than ever, he begins to question his own life. He wants more with Richelle. A future. Finally ready to sweep Richelle off her feet, a woman who broke his heart over twenty years ago unexpectedly knocks on his door desperate for his help.

“Thanks for the fuck.” Richelle rolled off Liam, swung
her luscious legs over the side of the bed and sauntered her sweet ass to the
en suite bathroom. Moments later she returned, not bothering to climb into bed
for snuggling because that was NOT what this was about.

“Another satisfying hump day—and Thursday morning fuck,”
Liam said with a laugh. The sigh that followed was accompanied by a mix of
emotions. It was both a relief and a disappointment that she wasn’t going to
stick around longer. A relief that he didn’t have to go make a big breakfast
but a disappointment in how businesslike their arrangement had become. Hell, he
wasn’t even expected to see her out or kiss her goodbye. She was not his
girlfriend. They were not dating. They were not a couple. This was about sex
and only sex.

Good sex.

But just good sex.

“Never had an unsatisfying one yet.” Richelle shot him a
sassy smile over her sculpted shoulder as she reached for her bra on the floor.
“Is that why you proposed Wednesdays be our day to have sex? Because it’s hump
day?”

He tucked his hands behind his head and shut his eyes,
still enjoying the euphoric high that followed a nice long fuck and a killer
orgasm. “Might have been. But you know Jordie is with my parents on the
Wednesdays I have him.” He opened his eyes again.

Richelle nodded as she clasped her bra behind her back.
Fuck, she had great tits. The perfect handful, with tight, delicious raspberry-red
nipples, dusky areolas that puckered when she became cold or aroused. And the
way her breasts squeezed his cock when she titty-fucked him—God almighty, she
was good at that. At the thought of being sandwiched like a frankfurter between
her creamy mounds, his dick lurched beneath the sheet. He couldn’t get another
boner now and take care of it himself. Not after that amazing fuck fest. Could
he ask her to stay for one more round?

The clock on his nightstand said it was seven thirty in
the morning. He had to be at work in an hour. He knew his cock could certainly
go again; the question was, could Richelle? Would Richelle? Did they have time?

She was still naked besides her bra, and he spied her
G-string at the foot of the bed. With a slight twinge in his back from the
acrobatics they’d engaged in last night, he hinged up and snatched the panties,
tucking them into his fist.

“Have you seen my underwear?” she asked, her hawklike
amber eyes scanning the bedroom floor. “Hot pink G-string.” Her lips spread,
revealing perfect teeth and a salacious feline smile. “One of your faves, I
believe.”

“You mean these?” he asked, his teeth now clenched around
one of the strings.

She glanced up at him, her socks and shirt in her hand.
“Those would be them, yes.”

He plucked the G-string from his teeth and held them on
one finger. “Come get them.”

His eyebrows bobbed in a way that easily conveyed the
payment required for retrieving her underwear.

That mouth he knew like the back of his own hand continued
to smile. “No time, stud. I have a deposition at nine this morning. Can’t be
late if I intend to kill it. Then I’m off to Mallory’s school for career day.”
She grumbled, “How fun is that going to be? Going to a school and telling five-hundred-plus
kids how rewarding it is being a divorce attorney …”

She wandered around to the side of the bed and bent down,
giving him the ultimate view of her cleavage. He slipped his free hand into one
of her cups until he found a nipple and tugged. The moan that rumbled in her
chest told him she might not have the time, but she’d certainly make it.

Her lips hovered above his. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” He lunged forward and took her bottom
lip between his teeth.

She groaned, and her eyes squeezed shut. He could see her
resistance crumbling. Feel the heat of her body and the way it radiated off her
in a new way, a way he’d come to recognize and respond to primitively. The
woman was a sexually charged animal. She also took control in the bedroom most
of the time—which Liam had no qualms with—and by the time they parted ways
Thursday morning, he was exhausted, achy, drained and happy as fuck.

But he also knew how to make his lioness purr. He knew
how to make her roll over to her back, show her belly and become a playful
kitten.

To look at her, you’d never expect the four-foot-eleven
woman with short blonde hair, hawklike eyes, and the arms of a professional MMA
fighter to be as fierce as she was. She reminded him of Tinker Bell—with an ax
to grind. Hence, the nickname Tink or Tinker Bell that he’d given her ages ago.
He’d even gone so far as to buy her a Tinker Bell costume one time (a sexy one,
of course), and he wore a generic pirate’s costume for a little bit of role-playing.