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Now I’m not going to be able to forget her, and that sweet, innocent pussy, laid open and ready.
Am I just a dirty old man? Possibly. More than possibly; probably. But I didn’t ask for any of this. She wasn’t even supposed to be there, and who would have expected she would be defenseless and practically naked. Who knew she’d turn into such a beautiful woman from a little baby, and an annoying child? Fuck, Dustin, why do you have to have a gorgeous daughter?
I’ve been with all kinds of women. It’s not difficult when you’ve got money. I’ve been with women of all races, of all temperaments: gold diggers, career women, philanthropists. But sometimes I just wish I were in college again, at that point in my life where we only think we have things figured out—where there’s nothing but possibility and the air thrums with the sexual tension of the still-almost-innocent.
My cock is hardening again. The vibration of the sports car isn’t helping, but instead of slowing down, I rev the engine.
I want you, Jordan. You and that tiny little mole on your hip that entices me to adventure. Invites me, even.
But that’s bullshit. To her, I’m just her dad’s best friend from college. Some dirty old guy. She’d never see me that way as long as I’m her father’s friend.
What if she were to travel to Paris? If she came to France, maybe she would see me as something different, not as her dad’s friend. She’d be far away from Daddy and Mommy as she’d ever been, and she’d feel free. Ready for adventure, but still wanting some measure of safety—which I would be happy to provide.
My cock throbs.
I realize that something is niggling at the back of my mind, an uncanny feeling like I’ve seen her before—not the times that she was shoving her dollies in my face, or being thrust in my arms by her mother. A feeling that maybe she’s not as innocent as she appears to be. It’s hitting me on a deep, sensual level, the way she was sprawled out on that bed. It was one of the sexiest things I’ve come across, but like I’ve seen it before... no, that’s crazy.
I turn up the radio to rid myself of these mad thoughts. Jordan is my friend’s daughter, nothing more, nothing less.
Then why am I more rigid than I’ve been since I was eighteen?
As I pull into the driveway that leads to my estate, I hit the phone button and command my car to call my private investigator, the one I use to suss out all the businesspeople I plan to do work with. As much as I want this woman, my friend’s daughter, ugh... I have to know more about her—and if there’s a reason I feel like I’ve seen her before. I need to know if she’s going to Paris without asking her, or asking her parents, for that matter. I don’t want to come across as inordinately concerned about her and set them off, but right or wrong, these feelings that have sprung up inside me are just too strong to leave alone.
Hiring my PI will tell me exactly how much trouble I’m asking for, and what I can get away with—two things that have served me well in my forays in the business world, and that have made me my fortune.
So what if Dustin and I were close in college, says a small part of me. It’s not like we’ve talked much in the last decade. Last time I saw him was when Jordan was pulling me away from him, after all. Why should I be more loyal to him than the next person? I’ve given the man the business opportunity of a lifetime. I don’t owe him anything after that. I figured I could use his skills and wanted to see how he was doing. It’s not like I would suffer if I turned him against me.
Which I would probably have to do either way—if I decide to pursue Jordan or not. If I do the right thing and cut her out of my life, I’ll have to get rid of Dustin and Margie as well. Because if I see Jordan again I will not be able to hold myself back.
To be completely honest, if I do see her again, I’m going to fuck her brains out.
“Henderson,” I hear through the speakers. It’s so crystal clear, it makes me jump every time.
“Don,” I bark in a voice I hope doesn’t sound as lust-ridden as I feel. “I need some information on a Jordan Burke. Can you look into her for me, maybe by... Friday.” Her panties flash through my mind again. Friday.
“Of course, King.” He coughs. “What do you need to know?”
“I need to know everything you can find out about her. And I want to know what her near future plans are. But you can’t tip her off. That part is very important.”
“Of course not, King, you know I’m a professional,” he says. He sounds taken aback. “I never tip off a client’s mark. You know that.”
“I know you’re the best,” I say. “It’s just that this one is a delicate matter.”
“They all are,” he answers.
“True.” I shouldn’t have put him down. But the last thing I want to have happen is for Dustin and Marg to get the idea that I’m following their daughter. My mind immediately starts to come up with some story that would excuse it if they were to find out. Don clears his throat.
“Okay, you know the drill. I’ll send you an invoice and then a full report,” he says gruffly. “By Friday.”
“I’m counting on you,” I answer, and he clicks off the line.
I ease the Lambo into its garage and wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
As Friday flashes through my mind, I know I have.
True to his word, it’s not much longer after I pay the invoice that I have the full report on my desk at the office.
Jordan Marie Burke. 22 years.
