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Harlow stares at me, her mouth open. But then those brown eyes light with fire.
“I’m allowed to play my music as loud as I want,” Harlow retorts boldly. “You’re not my dad.”
The urge to laugh at her petulance— especially because she’s practically naked— almost overwhelms me. I bite my tongue before I answer her calmly. “Well no, but Iamolder than you and responsible for what goes on in this house,” I begin, but Harlow rolls her eyes.
“Oh please, Sam, I’m nineteen. We can cut it out with the whole ‘I’m the responsible adult’ horseshit. I’m not a little girl anymore and we don’t even interact,” she sasses. “You’re not responsible for anything.”
There’s some truth to her words because it’s true, we don’t see each other much. The young woman and I are cordial when we pass each other in the hallways, but those exchanges are few and far between. Hell, we probably haven’t even had a meal together in the past year, and that’s my fault. I’m incredibly busy at my practice, so I’ve lost touch with the little minx, and when I get home late at night, her door is usually firmly closed.
But candidly, Ihavebeen looking for some sort of excuse to interact with Harlow for a while now. It’s pretty rancid, but I’ve noticed her on the few occasions we’ve brushed shoulders. After all, just a few years ago, my stepdaughter was a scrawny, gangly child, but over the last couple of years, she’s blossomed into a beautiful woman with sumptuous curves encased in sexy, flirtatious outfits.
But now, my gaze roams across her body once more. She’s all flushed, creamy skin, huge tits, wide hips, and thick thighs. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like for those legs to be wrapped around my waist as we moan together with pleasure. What would it would feel like to have those arms locked around my neck as I suckle at her tight nipples? What it would feel like to have her pussy clenching around my cock as she begs harder, deeper, faster? My pants feel tight at the crotch, and with a growl, I wonder if she notices my cock growing firm through the blue scrubs.
Maybe she’d like it, I muse, but I brush the thought away. Just because I’m ready to take her, doesn’t mean that Harlow wants to be ravished.
“What are you even doing in here?” I ask instead, trying to keep my voice steady.
Harlow thrusts her bottom lip outward once more and it’s almost cute. “I was exercising,” she says haughtily and throws her long brown hair back over her shoulder. “If you couldn’t tell.”
I let out a rude snort, surveying her figure again.
“In a bikini?” I ask her incredulously. “Or is that even a bikini? What is it, just some random cloth connected to patches of material?”
But even as her pout deepens, Harlow grabs her phone and finally turns off the awful pop music that was blasting. “It’s the new style, for your information,” she says in a haughty tone. “But yeah, my music was too loud right? Sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal—and I didn’t expect you to show up,” she adds, her voice ringing in the now silent room. Then she looks right into my eyes, her own brown ones full of challenge. “You’re quite the unannounced visitor, Sam.”
I’m surprised by how much I like Harlow’s feistiness toward me. I guess I expected her to behave how she usually does when we interact— polite, but distant. But instead, her spunkiness is borderline flirtatious tonight. In fact, she doesn’t appear to be that upset at all, come to think of it.
“No, it’s fine. But yeah, I knocked on your door three times,” I explain, holding my hands in front of my body in a defensive pose. “You just had your music too damn loud to hear me. Besides, how was I supposed to know that you would be in here dressed like you were going to a beach party?”
Harlow huffs loudly and begins to plant her hands on her hips. But then she thinks better of it at the last second, catching the sweater before it falls. Unfortunately, she’s not quick enough because I catch a naughty glimpse of those perky tits and my shaft goes rock hard. Holy fuck, she’s got such big tits for a teenager, and I long to suckle at them.
I know in this moment that I have two choices. I can either keep flirting with Harlow, and see what might become of our playful banter, or I can do the right thing, which is to turn around and forget all about this interaction. But as I stare at the sensual brunette, I suddenly realize that there’s no going back because my body’s aching for the sweet girl, and I need to find out what comes next.
4
Harlow
Iwatch Sam closely as he looks at me. I swear I see something almost wild flash through his brilliant blue eyes, but just as I open my mouth, his expression goes blank. Hmm, that’s strange because Idefinitelycaught him checking out my boobs just now when I almost dropped my sweater. And I’m pretty sure that firm-looking bulge in his pants isn’t his wallet.
To be honest, I’m more than a little surprised by this whole interaction because I’m sure Sam’s a nice guy, but I think we’ve spoken about ten words to each other over the last few months. And the only recent conversation I even really remember had something to do with the house needing a repair of some sort, which of course, I left to him. But now, this intimate little exchange has me feeling a little worked up (almost turned on if I’m being truthful), and I’m not entirely sure what to do about it.
After all, when Sam burst into my room, I was shocked. He never comes down to my floor, so it was a surprise to see him. But I was also horrified because here I am, dressed in practically nothing, and I’ve already flashed my big breasts at the man. But now, the shock and horror has morphed into a sick kind of thrill because if I’m being honest, Sam is hot as fuck. Sure, he’s in pale blue scrubs at the moment, but it only makes his blue eyes pop even more. There’s a little bit of scruff on his face from working a long shift, but other than that, the man of the house is hotter than most of the guys I know who are my age.
Plus, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on Sam. He’s strong and sexy, and obviously works out because his body looks like it was chiseled by a Renaissance artist. His jet-black hair is cut short on the sides but flows thick on top of his head. I’m pretty sure his jaw could cut glass. Not to mention a mouth that’s far too sensual for a man. He rarely smiles but when he does, I’m a definite goner. Sam is hot as hell, and at this particular moment, I feel squirmy, aroused, and so turned-on.
“So what kind of exercises are you doing?” Sam asks. His deep voice draws me away from my reveries and I stare at him blankly. “Earth to Harlow,” he says lightly, a small grin splaying across that sensual mouth.
I consider lying to him, mostly because I feel silly. But at the same time, I’m not really embarrassed. I actually feel sort of defensive, almost like I want to challenge him just to see how he might react to me.
“I was doing booty workouts,” I say in a snappy tone, like this is totally normal. I try to gauge his reaction to my declaration, but it’s hard because this man is a mystery, so I plow ahead. “Everyone is into booty exercises these days,” I say in a prim manner. “A big backside is the thing to have. I mean, have you seen Cardi B and Kim Kardashian? Their butts are incredibly juicy,” I inform him.
Of course, Sam is probablynotthe kind of man who keeps up with reality TV stars or rap music for that matter, but he nods slowly.
“Cardi B?” Sam repeats. “Yeah, I’ve heard of her.” But he’s not looking at my face as he speaks. Nope, the older man’s gaze is definitely resting on my ass, and when he does finally look away, I notice that his eyes look like blue fire— they’re full of heat and a look I’ve come to recognize from my time at Club Z:lust.
Huh, that’s good information to know, I muse, pleased with this revelation.Or maybe he’s astonished at how flat my butt is, I think just as quickly. I frown, feeling like an idiot for even believing for one second that someone as sexy as Sam would look twice at me.
“Why the frown?” the older man growls, his blue eyes perceptive.
