His Dad E-Book

Mia Kingsley

• Herausgeber: Black Umbrella Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 102

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Note to self:    It's okay to find a man for some nice fun to get over Billie, who dumped you via text. But maybe next time, don't pick Billie's dad?   This short romance is dark with a side of sweet. Expect a bossy hero taking what he wants from his unruly heroine, and a sugary happy end that will make your wildest dreams come true.

Leseprobe

HIS DAD

MIA KINGSLEY

A DARK ROMANCE

CONTENTS

His Dad

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

About the Author

HIS DAD

Note to self:

It’s okay to find a man for some nice fun to get over Billie, who dumped you via text. But maybe next time, don’t pick Billie’s dad?

This short romance is dark with a side of sweet. Expect a bossy hero taking what he wants from his unruly heroine, and a sugary happy end that will make your wildest dreams come true.

1

JO

"We should’ve bought more alcohol." Goldie wipes her nose with yet another paper tissue from the almost empty box in front of her. "I can’t believe that asshole had the audacity to cheat on me. On me!"

"He doesn’t deserve you anyway." I pat her back while trying to figure out if there’s still ice cream left in that tiny fridge-freezer combo that we wedged between the sink and the microwave to keep our dorm room well stocked with snacks. My best friend loves sweet treats, and some chocolate caramel fudge ice cream might even make her forget that scumbag Jonathan Blairson III who conveniently forgot to tell her that he apparently prefers dick over pussy. That’s why she accidentally walked in on him and two guys from his water polo team.

Goldie sighs and shakes her head. "I didn’t even mind the terrible sex."

"I mean, now you at least know that you weren’t the reason for his lackluster performance."

She blows her nose so loud that the whole campus probably hears her before sighing again.

Speaking of bad sex—I see the display of my phone lighting up with a message from Billie. I’m not surprised that he’s decided to dump me via text, considering how poorly our date went yesterday.

I don’t think this will work out. Your wishes are way too fucked up and the whole thing is definitely not for me. Take care. Bye.

I stare at the tissue box, but there are no tears coming. I’ve been on two boring dates with Billie, and with the way he sped off yesterday after taking me back to campus, I already knew what was coming.

"I hate cock sucking men!" Goldie huffs and shreds the tissue in her hands to pieces.

I clear my throat, and her cheeks redden.

"Of course not all cock sucking men. I mean, I’m all for cock sucking but not while pretending to be straight. Or at least not while pretending to date me." She gets up and walks to the fridge-freezer combo to take a look inside. "Oh man, we don’t even have any ice cream left. My life sucks."

I know what will cheer her up, even if it makes me miserable. My best friend deserves a good time, and for her, I will suffer proudly. Like she suffered in third grade for me when that bitch Melanie McNamara hit her in the face with the playground swing that was meant for my face. Goldie saved me then and a couple of times after that too.

Giving myself a pep talk, I force a smile on my face. "You know what we should do?"

Shoulders hanging, she turns to me. "Burn down Jonathan’s family estate?"

"No, we should get all dolled up and go out. You can choose the club, and we will dance the night away. There’s no better way to forget… what was his name again?"

"Are you sure? You hate getting dolled up." Goldie seems suspicious, but her eyes are already lighting up.

"For you, I shall endure the worst of all tortures."

She eyes the stack of romance novels on my nightstand, knowing full well that I’d rather stay in to read the gazillionth dark romance about a dominant stalker abducting his unwilling victim.

"Are you really sure? You’re not messing with me, are you, Jo? Because that would be cruel."

"I’m not. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world, and I want to cheer you up."

"Oh my God. It’s happening. It’s really happening. What are we going to wear?" She clutches her hands. "I know what we’re going to wear. Oh, this is so good. But you’re going to hate it."

I’m afraid she’s right, yet I don’t mind since she’s clearly stopped thinking about Jonathan.

Goldie opens her dresser and pulls out two hangers with child-sized tanktops. "We’re going to wear these."

"With what? Leggings?" I look down at myself. Since it’s Friday night and I didn’t have any plans until two minutes ago, I’m already wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that keeps sliding off my shoulder.

"No!" Goldie rolls her eyes. "That would ruin the dresses."

I stare at the hangers and squint my eyes. "Are you sure those are dresses? Because I’m sure that a two-year-old somewhere is missing her tops."

"Hush, hush. Undress and take your bra off—this silhouette doesn’t allow for any straps."

With a groan, I get up and wonder what kind of monster I’ve unleashed.

Goldie’s mood couldn’t be better as she barks orders at me and makes me brush my hair and teeth, forces me to apply a metric ton of makeup, and orders me into the dress and a pair of high heels I can barely walk in. I can stand upright and look pretty, but I can’t do much else.

"You look amazing." She takes a step back, doing that swishy hair thing with her blond locks, smiling at me.

"I’m quite sure that I look like something that belongs in the circus, but you’re hot as hell."

She smiles like she wants to say, "oh please," but secretly, she knows how freaking gorgeous she is. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and legs until tomorrow. Whereas I’m blessed with red hair and way too much boobs. The only thing I have more of than boobs is freckles. Almost every inch of my body is covered in them. You either think I’m cute or that I’ve been standing too close to an exploding can of rust-colored paint.

Goldie hands me my bag since my dress is too tight and my heels too high to do it myself. How is this supposed to be fun?

"So, we’re getting us some man meat, right? I want to get drunk and find a cock to suck while not thinking about Jonathan sucking cock and taking it up the ass."

I carefully touch my hair. "Maybe just find a guy and avoid thinking about Jonathan altogether?"

"You’re probably right. Uh, we need to go downstairs. Our driver is here."

Downstairs. Like in walking down the stairs with these heels on. I already regret my bravery. This night will probably not be fun at all.

My first few steps are hesitant, but after a while, I get in the groove of walking in these torture devices. It’s normal not to feel your toes, right?

Goldie skips and hums happily, pushing the door open as we step outside the dorm. A black sedan is parked right in front of us, and I follow my best friend as she sits in the back seat and scoots over to make room for me.

The dress is so short that I almost flash our driver because it rides up my thighs as I sit down, so I hastily pull it down to cover my legs, forgetting that the fabric has to come from somewhere. My tits nearly spring free before I realize what I’m doing.

"So, I was thinking we could go to this bar called The Ivy before hitting the clubs down the road from there. The Ivy sounds posh, doesn’t it?"

"The Ivy it is."

Goldie lets out a little squeal of joy and hugs me as the driver takes off to the address she’s given him. I can’t help but smile because she’s so happy right now. It probably won’t be that bad to sit in a fancy cocktail bar and sip a sweet drink while watching Goldie flirt with every man available.

Or that's at least what I think until the driver drops us off and we enter The Ivy.

It’s clearly not a posh cocktail bar and more along the lines of the worst dive bar in town. Or maybe it’s supposed to resemble a pub? I don’t go out that often so I wouldn’t know.

Goldie isn’t fazed by the fact that there are no other women here or that all the guys are wearing suits while they eye us like sharks would eye tiny shrimps. I swallow and want to grab her arm, but Goldie’s already walking to the bar, swinging her hips with every step. She needs to come back. I don’t want to be a lonely shrimp.

The barkeeper smiles at her and puts both hands on the counter as she struts closer. He leans in, and his smile deepens as Goldie sits down on one of the bar stools with more poise than I could ever muster. Also, how did she manage to pick out the most handsome guy and enchant him within seconds?

She looks at me and motions for me to join her. I start walking, feeling very out of my element as she turns back toward the barkeeper, who’s clearly flirting with her.

It’s no problem. I can do this. It doesn’t matter that half the guys here are my father’s age. It doesn’t matter that they’re all wearing suits like this is a law firm and not some random bar on a late Friday night. I can do this. My legs will not give in.

I let out a shaky breath, happy that I’ve so far managed not to stumble in these heels.

The bar is almost in reach when a man blocks my way. "Now, who do we have here? I think you might be too much sugar for my diabetes."

2

BEN

Napoleone Doro scrunches his face like a petulant child. "My boss won’t like that."

"Do I look like I care?" I take my glass and down the rest of my Jameson Triple Distilled. "You can tell your boss that it’s still three percent. Even for him. I’m expecting the rest of the money by Sunday, or he can say goodbye to his balls."

Doro seems pissed, but right now, there’s nothing he can do about it. Not here. The Italians aren’t especially liked on this side of town and even less in here. The Ivy is my bar and the place where I do most of my business since the cops know not to come here.

Doro touches the sticky table by accident and is clearly disgusted. The Ivy doesn’t look like much, but that’s intentional. I don’t want outsiders in here, so there’s no point in making my bar inviting and appealing with a nice atmosphere. It’s a place for business and not to entertain drunk college kids. There are plenty of other clubs in town for that. I also don’t bother with fancy furniture and clean floors, so my competition keeps underestimating me—that and the fact that we regularly have fights in here. You can’t keep three dozen drunk Irish men in one place and not expect them to throw down. Not in our line of business anyway.

"Two and a half percent."

My mood sours. I put the glass down and look Doro straight in the eyes. "How about four percent, and just because of your audacity, I want the money tomorrow at noon."

Doro pales immediately, knowing full well that he just fucked up. "I’m sorry, Mr. Caroll."

"I bet you are. Now get the fuck out, or I’ll give you a reason to be really sorry."

It’s obvious that Doro considers pleading with me, but he’s smart enough to get up and leave. His boss might kill him for ruining the deal, but that’s not my problem.