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“Send me his picture. I need to see what we’re dealing with here.”
I forwarded William’s profile to Carson and waited for his response.
“Damn, Boytoy! He’s a Daddy, for sure. When a guy like this preys on—I mean hits on a younger guy like you, he’s looking for a sugar baby.”
“So, he’s only looking for sex?” I asked, disappointed.
“Not necessarily. A lot of Daddies want a long-term arrangement with a boy. The thing to keep in mind is, Daddies like to be needed and to feel useful but important. Stroke the man’s ego. Talk about things you need help with.”
“But I don’t need help with anything. I’m pretty self-sufficient.”
“I know you are, but he doesn’t. Make him feel like you need him to get by. Talk about needing car maintenance and a grooming allowance.”
“Carson, my car is leased, maintenance comes free with it.”
“You aren’t hearing a damn thing I’m saying, are you? Fake it till you make it, Boytoy.”
“I trust you, Carson. If you say so, I’ll do it. See you Friday.”
I stewed over his advice for the rest of the day. It killed me to act like I couldn’t manage my own life just to attract a man I wasn’t sure I wanted, anyway. But again, I had nothing to lose by giving it my best shot. I was starting to doubt if Carson was the dating expert he claimed to be, but the simple truth was, asking for his help gave me a reason to talk to him, and that was worth all the bad dating advice he could throw at me.
What was it about him that drew me in? He wasn’t anything like the guys I usually dated. Carson was crass, snarky, troublesome, and…sexy. Oh, so sexy. That had to be what it was. The classic dilemma of good boy falls for bad boy. I was such a cliche. But I couldn’t lie to myself and pretend I hadn’t jerked off to the memory of our night together twice.
I was unable to stop replaying it over and over in my head. The way he pinned my body against the glass, taking, giving, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter than it ever had before with another man. His musky spice and thick, full lips, that velvety tongue that licked all over my body. Ungh! I was getting hard just thinking of it. What I needed was to stop lusting after my friend and focus on my Lit assignment. Carson wasn’t for me. Our night of passion was a one-off and not likely to be repeated, except in my dreams.
When I finished my assignment, I pulled out my binder and looked over some cake recipes and flavor combinations that had danced around my head this week. I had received another order from a woman two floors down from me for cupcakes for her daughter’s birthday party. The flavored extracts I ordered last week came in the mail today, and I was hoping the cotton candy would be perfect for the rainbow unicorn cupcakes she had asked me to create.
Eventually, the sun set, casting long shadows across my living room. When my stomach grumbled, I set aside my baking ingredients and started on dinner. I retrieved a marinated chicken breast from the fridge and cut some vegetables to steam. A wave of loneliness passed over me as I prepared dinner. This right here was the hardest part of being single for me. More than the hot sex and drugging kisses, I missed the simple company of a companion. Someone to eat dinner with, someone to cook for. A warm body to wrap their arms around me as we snuggled on the couch to watch television. Another’s input on our weekly grocery list. Mundane connections and rituals that made a life seem more enriched and meaningful.
As I waited for the chicken breast to grill, I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes, envisioning a man standing across from me setting the kitchen table. We were having a discussion about our day, trading gripes and anecdotes about our respective offices, talking about our favorite TV show, discussing whether we should adopt a cat or not. Sighing deeply, I began to relax into the dream, the man in my head becoming clearer. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a dark complexion and light eyes. Those eyes, hmm, they stole my focus every time he looked at me. I drew nearer to him, my hands resting on his hard pecs, teasing his tight nipples through his shirt.
His deep voice rumbled in my ear, making my dick hard. “I missed you today, Ryan. Did you think of me?”
“Yes, I—” The acrid smell of smoke and something burning filled my nose and made my eyes sting. My smoke detector went off, blaring a shrill alarm that hurt my ears. I dashed to the stove and turned off the burner, then grabbed a dish towel and fanned the smoke away from the alarm. All of a sudden, it stopped, and the silence was just as deafening as the loud beeping had been. I slumped against the kitchen counter, realizing I would be eating cereal for dinner. But that wasn’t as depressing as the fact that I had been daydreaming about Carson. There was no denying that my imaginary man’s face had morphed into my bad-boy-bartender crush.
I was absolutely hopeless.
Maybe my mother was right. Maybe the best relationships start as friendships. If only I had some single friends.
10
CARSON
Ryan’s datewith Fancy Pants ate up more of my attention than I was comfortable with. I couldn’t stop picturing various scenarios where they ended up together, and I didn’t like any of them. Not one. Ryan looked like a meek, watered-down, fake version of himself in every one. He wasn’t meant to be some rich man’s plaything, admired only for his body and his hole. He was not a submissive boy looking to take a man for a ride.
Ryan was as independent as he said he was. The only reason he needed a helping hand from me was because he had terrible taste in men. I certainly couldn’t fault him for that. I suffered from the same affliction. With him constantly at the forefront of my mind, I found myself engineering ways to spend time alone with him before his date Friday night.
I made sure to guarantee his date would fail miserably. When I encouraged him to come across as a spoiled and needy gold digger, I was risking a slim chance my plan might backfire. Many men grew irritated by being called a daddy just because they happened to be over forty. I could only hope Daddy William was one of them.
Carly plopped down next to me on the couch, automatically reaching for the remote. He wasn’t a fan of hockey like I was. My brother preferred educational programming or artsy movies, or the cooking channel.
“Don’t forget Mom’s birthday on Sunday.”
I flicked my eyes in his direction. “Don’t we usually go in halves on a gift?”
Carly scoffed. “If by halves, you mean I plan and shop for something special and you pay your portion, then yes. This year, I’ve decided to give her a gift from just me, so you’re on your own.”
“What? You can’t drop this on me last minute. What am I supposed to buy her?”
