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I had no clue how to handle this. Kayla had entered my life when she had been seventeen, supposedly as my stepdaughter, but hell I had never felt that way about her. Her mom’s clear mission to land me for my money was apparent from the beginning and I wouldn’t have stuck it out were it not for the tall, willowy red-head that hung behind her. She was beautiful but downbeat. I had figured she needed someone to look out for her, to believe in her. So I had kept her mom in money so I could give Kayla a home. Instead, I had ended up keeping an eye on her from a distance as she decided she preferred staying with a friend and her friend’s mom rather than here. I tried not to take it too personally. Her relationship with her mom was complex. But the times I did see her she was always awkward around me. As much as I had tried to show her I wasn’t the same as the other stepfathers that had gone before me, she stayed distant. Once she had turned
eighteen I asked her mom to leave. Her mom moved on and Kayla was led to believe her mom had left me. There was no reason for me to keep in touch with Kayla at all, but I couldn’t help myself.
When I opened the door to her today I was mind blown. Her red hair was tousled and the breeze had blown it across her face a little. I wanted to reach out and push it behind her ear. My dick had hardened as my gaze had taken in her pale green sundress, with its thin straps resting over Kayla’s freckled shoulders. Its loose cotton hung over that still slim silhouette and with the light behind her it had made the dress partially see-through so the shape of her legs and the space between her thighs was apparent as she stood there. My first thoughts had been to hug her--she was finally here. Then I realised Kayla wasn’t the hugging type so I just held her away from me. I made an excuse about getting her luggage so that I might hold the suitcase in front of my crotch. The last thing I wanted to do was to have embarrassed her. I knew she would have enough to contend with, in the fact she was going to have to meet Parker soon.
Then I showed her to her bedroom, even though she knew how to find it herself. It had been so long since she had visited, she was acting like a stranger. The room had been a mess, still in the paint that belonged to the nineties. I loved to paint, but unfortunately, it was on canvas rather than walls. Still, I suggested she might like to decorate it. Again my conversation stemmed from the fact that as I had stood in the bedroom alongside her all I wanted to do was push her down on the bedspread and lift that dress up so I could see her secret places.
And I called her a hot Realtor. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
The worst thing though was her introduction to Parker. I knew Parker was a good looking dude and there was no way I wanted them to hit it off in that way, so I encouraged the stepbrother talk. I figured though they weren’t related, if she saw him in that kind of relationship, it would prevent anything from happening.
It was also the reason I had given Parker a home here. He was a decent enough guy, though a little self-centered. But it gave me a reason to get Kayla into my home. I didn’t want her to go rushing off to LA in search of her mother. Not that I thought for a moment she would anyway. But selfish or not, I wanted her here with me for a while. So I could spend time seeing her laugh, listening to her sass and, admittedly so I could fantasize about nailing that sweet little body. I had always wanted her, for seven long years and if I had my way, she would be seeing me in a far different way to a stepdaddy before she went back home—if, she went back home. Because, if I got my way, I would have that girl mine and pregnant within weeks.
I watched as Parker lifted himself out of the pool. He grabbed a towel and dried off. I had given him a job at the art gallery I opened in Chandler Square. It was funny how my career had changed. When Patty, Kayla’s mom, had come into my life, I was running a chain of tattoo parlors. You might think they wouldn’t do so well in the more affluent parts of New York, but you would be incorrect. All the rich housewives competed with each other for the most beautiful tattoos and my artwork was renowned. All my shops had had the best artists in them, where you were guaranteed a fantastic inking. Yet within twelve months of Patty being in my life, I had to sell the chain on to keep afloat. Keeping my house had been touch and go, until after she had left and I’d been trying to sell some of the contents of my home. An art collector had picked up a couple of my canvases--things I had painted for fun--and unknown to me, he’d shown them to a dealer. The dealer had gotten in touch with me about securing more of my work. Soon, this hobby had become a passion and had given me a renewed vigor for life. I had opened my own gallery in Port Jeff, a pay-it-forward if you like, someplace to buy art from fresh new talent and a permanent display of my own work. I was very fortunate. So with that regard, I could afford to feed the two twenty-somethings I found living in my house until I worked out how to get Parker to leave without taking Kayla with him. And getting Kayla to want to stay.
I felt hot and uncomfortable. The heat from the day made my tee cling to my body and too many thoughts of Kayla were making me want to jack off. I decided to go for a swim myself now that Parker had gone through to the bathroom in the pool house. I would do a few laps in the pool and try to cool off and calm myself down before dinner when I would see her again.
