Sweet Caroline

#3 Daddy

"Yeah..." I breathe, trying to form a full sentence with his hands moving up, lifting up the shirt. "No," I decide, pulling the shirt back down. "Food first, then..."

"Sex?" Nathan offers. He sounds a bit disappointed, even though he was the one insisting I'd cook, even if he didn't say so outright.

"First food," I repeat. "Go sit on the couch so you won't distract me."

Nathan grunts. "Now where's the fun in that, Caroline?"

The way he says my name... I've never heard anyone say my name like that. Like he wants to devour me whole. I want nothing more than to give in right here and now, in the kitchen, but I know I'll regret it if I do. I want to keep at least a shred of dignity, so I need to find out some more about this man before letting him do to me whatever he has planned.

"How old are you?"

He walks over to the table right next to the kitchen, sitting down on top of it with his feet on a chair. "Do we really need to know a whole list of things about each other before deciding to sleep together? I know nothing about you except for your name and your address, yet I'm completely fine with that."

"I need a little more." Turning over the potatoes in the pan, I ask him once more how old he is.

"How old do you think I am?"

I look at him and narrow my eyes. "38."

He smiles at that. "Thank you very much, Caroline. I'm 41."

Damn. He's older than I thought.

"And how old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?" I shoot back, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Fair enough. I think you're..." He pauses to give me an appraising look that gives me goosebumps. "27."

"I'm not sure if I should take that as an insult or a compliment," I reply. I'm used to people thinking I'm older than I actually am. "24."

"17 years between us," Nathan says, shaking his head. "That's a lot. I could be your father." He doesn't sound bothered by that, though.

"Yeah, if you knocked up your high school girlfriend, you could be," I agree. "Please don't tell me you want me to call you daddy."

"No," he says with a shudder. He looks way younger with that disgusted look on his face. No way that man was truly 41. He must have some good genes. "I've already got a girl in my life who calls me daddy."

Oh God. Is he some kind of sick pervert? Married, maybe? Looking for a cheap fling to get over his father's death before going back to his wife and kids? Or is he some sex maniac maybe?

"My daughter," he explains, laughing at my startled expression. "I'm happily divorced, in case you're wondering. No girlfriend, only a sweet little girl who I co-parent. Now, I hope this is enough personal information for you, because it's all you're getting. Let's not exchange all the other boring stuff. Who cares what my job is or where I live? This is just one night of fun between two relative strangers. Why ruin it by getting to know each other?"

"Okay," I decide, excited by the idea. I know enough now to convince myself that I'm not being too naïve. He's in his early forties, so of course he has a kid. I don't see a wedding ring or a white strip of skin where one might have been, so I assume he's telling the truth about that. And if he is lying, that isn't really my problem, now is it?

He walks over to the window to close the curtains and puts on some music. I don't recognize the song, so maybe it's something from back when he was younger. Seventeen years is a lot, after all. My mom is only three years older, come to think of it. My dad has barely six years on the guy. He's closer in age to them than he is to me, yet here we are.

Stop thinking about your parents and just enjoy the fact that for one night, you actually get to live an exciting life, I chastise myself. He's hot, he wants you. Just enjoy this.

"A gift from God," Nathan says again when I put all the food on the coffee table in from of the couch and hand him a plate. "Truly, you're the best stranger I ever invited into my parents' apartment."

"A lovely compliment." I roll my eyes. "Especially since I'm probably the only one."

"The one and only," he confirms, making me feel special with such a simple sentence. "Now let's eat."

I sit down on the couch right next to him and grab myself a pig in a blanket. I blow on it softly, not wanting to burn my mouth. When I glance over to him, I catch him staring at me with hunger in his eyes. Not hunger for food though... His eyes are on my lips at first, but they slowly move down to my legs. My shirt has ridden up when I sat down and if I hadn't crossed my legs when I sat down, he would be getting quite a show with his dinner.

He grunts but doesn't touch me. Instead, he puts some food on his plate and starts eating, closing his eyes in contentment.

"You are a great cook," he compliments me.

"Please," I scoff. "I barely had anything to work with. You should see me cook a proper meal."

"Maybe another time," he replies, opening his eyes again and meeting mine. "Depending on how much we'll enjoy tonight."

"I should surely hope it would be your turn to cook if there is a next time," I complain light-heartedly, jabbing my fork at him. I'm not actually that hungry, but I take a few bites of everything just because it smells so good. It might not be my best work, but it tastes pretty good.

Nathan eats like he hasn't been fed in weeks. While he is distracted by the food, I allow myself to look at his chest and stomach, examining his tattoos. I've actually never slept with someone with tattoos before, but I like them on him. It's like they were meant to be there. I can't imagine him without them. He has all sorts of tats, from birds to a moon to roses. I wonder if they all have some kind of meaning to them. There is a large one of a wolf on his shoulder, howling. It's my favorite – for now. God only knows what tats he may be hiding underneath his sweatpants.

"Like what you see?" he asks, his voice drawing my eyes back up.

"Yes," I reply honestly, smiling at him. "I rather do."

"Good." He's done eating, apparently, since he puts his plate down and moves closer to me. "Me too."

Finally, he touches me again. He puts one hand on my leg, the other on the back of my head so he can pull my face up to his. I close my eyes, expecting him to press his lips to mine, but he has other ideas. Instead of going in for a kiss, he moves his mouth to my ear.

"You can make as much noise as you want," he whispers. "I'm pretty sure the neighbors aren't home. That girl is always forgetting her keys."

I laugh and want to say something snarky back, but his hand moves up my leg and grabs it to pull it away from the other. I think it's safe to say I get a bit too distracted to talk from that moment on. He goes straight in for the kill, his fingers moving over my inner thighs and then straight to my clit. He grunts when he feels how wet I am and circles that tiny bud with his finger.

"What do you want, Caroline?" he demands, his voice dark. "Tell me."