Jon
I’m not entirely sure when I agreed to fly back to New York without Lydia, but I do know it was somewhere between her kissing my chest and my mouth finding her tits while she sat in my lap. I also wasn’t entirely proud of the fact that she could so easily get me to do what she wanted if she used her sex appeal, but I wasn’t going to complain too much. My nose on the other hand, that I was going to complain about because holy fuck did that hurt. And while waiting for Lydia and Allie to drive back across the country it gave time for bruises to show up; dark, obvious, painful bruises.
Beyond that though, my trip to Monterey had actually seemed pretty good for the both of us. Danielle didn’t like me, quite frankly I didn’t blame her, but beyond that Lydia and I were able to have a heart to heart. She had never told me about her parents, Patrick had told me she came from the foster system and Lydia always called Allie her sister, but nothing about her biological family. Her father, I now knew, died when she was around six in a car accident and her parents had been married but divorced a year or so before he passed. She cried at his gravestone, and I sat with her while she told me about him.
The conversation that she pointedly avoided was anything beyond the behaviour I had seen from her mother today. Nothing about what she was like when Lydia was growing up, or why she went into the system in the first place, but I could read well enough between the lines and figured it had something to do with her aggression. No matter what though, I would let her open up to me in her own time. For now, I was just waiting for her to get home.
I told them they didn’t need to rush, but truth be told I was getting anxious about Patrick being in Poland without us. His father may have wanted to see him, but the rest of the family didn’t seem too welcoming and I worried about how he would react, having Lydia and I there gave him someone to talk to. Not that either of us was good at communicating, but it was the thought that counts.
It shouldn’t be long now though, I told myself silently, she’ll be back soon. She’d already texted me that she was back in New York and was on her way to the apartment now I just had to stop myself from jumping every time something made a noise. When the buzzer did finally go off I ran for the door and let her in.
“Hey,” I greeted, opening the door as she stepped out of the elevator. “How was the drive?”
“Not bad,” she paused to lean in and kiss my cheek. “Thanks for being understanding about it.
“Don’t thank me,” I murmured, holding her close. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Mm,” she hummed, sliding her hands up my chest. “I think you’re full of shit.”
I laughed in surprise and picked her up fully, dragging her into the apartment as she giggled and hid her face against my shoulder. It felt different to have her to myself for a while, and to have no reason to leave her side – not even work since we were both jobless. My mind drifted to where it always drifted when I had alone time with Lydia; sex. I never had an issue with my sex drive, but I had to admit to myself that sometimes I bit off more than I could chew with her since she was the energizer bunny that could just keep going long after I was spent. That didn’t stop me now from dropping down onto the couch with her in my lap and my hands finding their way up her shirt.
“I missed you.” My lips moved across her skin as I spoke, trailing up her throat and feeling her heart beat faster the closer I got to her ear. “I forgot how lonely my bed was without you.”
She huffed and sat back on my knees, her fingers intertwined behind my neck as she glared daggers at me. “I’m more than a heated sex toy thank you.”
I smirked at the dramatic pout she had and kissed the tip of her nose, after a minute she broke and smiled just a little. “I never said that I missed your body, Miss Morrison,” I chided as I tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I missed you, I missed my blanket hog and her weird bedtime habits.”
Her face flushed and immediately protested, “It’s not that weird.”
“Hiding snacks is definitely weird, so is checking the locks on the widows when I live on in the penthouse and therefore no one is getting up here.”
“You’re so mean to me,” she whined, pushing herself off my lap and heading to the kitchen. “You and Patrick are always mean to me.”
I followed her to the kitchen, trailing slowly behind her as she shed small articles of clothing here and there; her heels, her cropped jacket, and finally her hot pink bra on a dining chair. She stretched and arched her back and I just kept watching her with growing fascination; she was always so much shorter without her heels, and I liked that she was at a comfort point that she could just toss her bra any old place. The housekeeper might not like that, but I thought it was amusing.
In the kitchen, she pulled random things from the fridge; a pop, a few pieces of fruit, and finally popped some bread in the toaster. This was new. She usually didn’t touch the fridge unless offered. I leaned against the counter and once she had everything she wanted she jumped up on the stool across from me.
“We can go to dinner,” I teased, stealing a handful of grapes. “I’m not poor yet, I can afford to take us out somewhere before we leave.”
She frowned, her stormy eyes became the slightest shade darker and I could see her trying to figure out just how to respond. “So, do we just pretend that I knew all along about the divorce now, or am I just supposed to laugh off comments like that?”
That was not what I expected to hear. “Patrick told you?”
She shook her head. “Guess again.”
Fuck me. She was playing a guessing game to find out how many people might have known before she did. I had to give her credit where it was due; Lydia wasn’t stupid, far from it, and right now I was stupid one because if I said the wrong name it would just add to the roster, and if I said the right name she could still say it was wrong. This was my fault for not coming clean in the first place. Maritza talked to Allie, I found that out the hard way, so it could have been either of them, Patrick knew, obviously Christine knew, Charles knew… It was just her that I hadn’t told.
Before I could answer she spoke again, “You can’t treat me like this, Jon. You can’t treat me like a child or an adult based on your mood and use that as a way to decide what you will and won’t tell me. It’s not fair and it’s infantilizing.”
It was so easy for me to write her off as still a child, especially because of my experiences raising my daughter, but when Lydia spoke up and was so fully able to articulate my shitty behaviour it put me in an awkward position. She wasn’t my daughter, thank fucking god for that, and she wasn’t a child either, it just made it so much harder to figure out what to say when I struggled to always see her as an adult capable of having adult conversations and relationships.
“I just didn’t know how to tell you,” I explained quietly, unable to meet her eyes. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I need to be open with you because you’re not a little girl but—”
“This is the end of the fucking line with that, I’m not your daughter – and if you have issues conflating your partner with your child then I don’t think we can stay together,” she snapped angrily.
Her words felt like a stab to the heart and I struggled to keep a straight face because all I wanted to do was cry. Christine was leaving because she had to now and it was as a result of my relationship with Lydia becoming public knowledge. I was losing my career because I risked it for her, and the idea that she could or would just leave me was crushing. I felt like the entire room was crumbling around me, and it was entirely my fault.
“I don’t see you like that,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and cracking. “I’m not trying to be an asshole—”
“It just comes naturally then?”
She knew how to hit hard in an argument, for better or worse. “I’m struggling with this,” I admitted after a few silent minutes. “At times I struggle with trying to understand that you’re younger than my daughter, but I should be telling you all the things I can’t really talk to her about.”
Lydia watched me for a second before sighing and jumping down off her perch, coming around to my side of the island she leaned against me and rubbed small circles over my back. “I need you to talk to me, Jon, I need you to promise not to keep things from me just because you think I can’t handle it, or because you arbitrarily decided I was too childish to deal with it.”
I slipped my arm around her waist and tucked her head under my chin. “Christine and I are getting divorced,” I admitted quietly. “And I didn’t want to tell you because I was scared, and I still am.”
“About what? It’s not like I’m scandalized by you being married,” she teased, turning in my embrace to comb her hands through my hair. “Talk to me.”
There was nowhere left to hide and nothing to lose anymore, she’d find out eventually anyway. “She wants everything in the settlement, and I’m terrified that if she gets her way that I won’t be able to take care of you.” I paused stroked my thumb across her cheek, trying to distract myself. “I put you into a position where you don’t have anything else, and the idea that I can’t make up for that is killing me.”
She shook her head and when I couldn’t meet her gaze, she cupped my face made me look at her. “I’m not here for you to take care of me—"
“I know you aren’t, Lydia, but for fuck’s sake – it’s the one thing I should be able to do.”
“Jon, even if Christine took ninety-percent of your assets, you’d still have more money than the any person could ever spend.” She paused long enough to press the lightest of kisses to my mouth. “And not to be a bitch but I also have Patrick to mooch off of if we need it.”
I smirked, against everything in me that was scared and worried about the future I couldn’t help but smile at her carefree attitude. “It still doesn’t feel good.”
“I know,” she agreed. “And I don’t feel good that my savings are almost completely drained and that I’m going to lose my apartment, but we can’t just wallow in it forever.”
“You’re not allowed to sound so reasonable,” I said as I lifted her up onto the counter. “You’re supposed to just be young and pretty.”
She laughed and pulled me to her for a kiss, being careful to avoid bumping my nose in the process. It always surprised me that Lydia didn’t wallow, she didn’t dwell and overall she just moved on – sometimes she needed time for herself but it was only ever time she needed alone to cope with major events, never just sitting in her own pity despite how she referred to it.
“We have a few hours before the flight,” I murmured against her lips. “We could make the most of it upstairs.”
She laughed breathlessly and kissed my cheek before pushing me away and hopping off the counter. “I have a different idea,” she said happily. “How about we go out?”
As if I’d say no to you. “Different idea, not better?” I teased. “You want dinner after all?”
She shook her head and a coy smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I want to go out with my boyfriend to a bar and have drinks with him.”
Oh. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, measuring my words. “Public places like that and going to a bar with—” The words died on my tongue as I caught myself about to say with a girl half my age. I had to try more, I had to do better and that meant not thinking of her that way.
“We can’t hide forever,” she whispered, reaching for my hands. “Please Jon, let’s go out and just have fun. We don’t have to a club or anything, just like a sit-down bar where we can relax and unwind before we go see Pat.”
She had me by the balls when she batted her eyes like that and gently bit the corner of her lip, puppy eyes didn’t even begin to cut it. “I haven’t been to a bar in a long time.”
She snorted. “Jon, I have all of your calendar events dating back to November – I think strip clubs count as bars.”
Ah fuck, I knew I forgot something. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck and fought to keep a straight face. “Okay, now that I know you’re checking up on me as well you have to agree to sign out of my calendar.”
“Only if you’ll let me take you on a date.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. “Alright, go get ready, I’ll wake up the driver.”
Lydia beamed at me and took off for the bedroom while I went to have my driver get the Pullman ready. Was I also supposed to change? What the fuck did people wear to bars now anyway? Ugh. I was going to way overthink this. I hoped she couldn’t also see my search history since I was currently gawking at different pictures on Google, trying to figure out what to wear.
Tiptoeing upstairs I noticed she had taken her stuff to the bathroom, probably to do her makeup, which allowed me to fret in the closet without her interreference. I felt sufficiently awkward in a t-shirt and jeans, the most basic of things I could have chosen but still an outfit I hadn’t really worn on the regular for a number of years. Glancing in the mirror I touched my hair self-consciously; would other people notice the shots of silver here and there, and if they did would they be creeped out? Fuck me, they weren’t going to come at me with pitch forks so why the hell was I so nervous.
“Do I look okay?”
I turned to see Lydia standing in the doorway wearing a teal satin dress that clung to her so tightly I could perfectly see the contours of her tits, which were braless still and peeking out the top of the sweetheart neckline. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail with a few wispy locks around her face. My mouth went dry just seeing her standing there and suddenly my jeans seemed more than a little tight.
“You really want me to look like a creepy sugar daddy, don’t you?” I asked as I pulled her to my chest and let my hands roam her body with abandon.
Her giggle was music to my ears that made my heart pound even louder. “Come on Daddy, let’s have fun tonight.”
She took me by the hand and led us down to the foyer and then out to the garage. I felt like I was in a blind haze just following her, mostly mesmerized by that amazing ass but also just entranced by her entire demeanour this evening.
We cuddled up against each other in the car and I stroked my thumb back and forth across her knuckles and watching the streetlights make her bracelets glitter. She hadn’t asked Patrick to take them off no matter how resentful of us she was in the Bahamas, and I noticed everyday that she wore my necklace without a second thought as well. She never questioned our relationships, she just pushed forward and waited for us when we needed it. It seemed so obvious now but I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen that before.
I was pulled out of my reverie when she pulled my hand to her mouth for a kiss before giving me a light shove towards the door. I had no idea where we were but she was clearly excited. The bar, at least from the outside, was nothing special, just a small building with a rooftop patio and one section of the wall on the ground floor that had been replaced with fencing to expose a dance floor. My nerves were making me almost jittery but I forced myself to square my shoulders and straighten up; I wasn’t going to chicken out because of what some people might say.
Inside it was dark and the music was loud, alternating between rock and pop songs that caused some of the lights to pulse to the beat. There were more tables than space to dance, which I thankful for, and Lydia immediately claimed a mostly hidden booth near the back for us.
“You didn’t come dressed like that just to sit here.” I had to lean in and almost speak directly in her ear for her to hear me but it was worth it for the way I saw her shiver.
“Come dance with me,” she pleaded. “Let me fawn all over you on in the middle of a crowd and not give a shit.”
I laughed and kissed the shell of her ear, wincing as I accidentally bumped my nose in the process. “Put on a show for me, if you’re good enough I’ll come join you so they know what they’re missing.”
My dare was clear; I wanted her to be a shameless flirt just so I could see them get disappointed when she chose me instead. I wanted her to be a tease. Lydia gazed at me for a moment, her lips parting as if to protest before she got that glitter in her eyes that she always got when she accepted a challenge. Tonight was no different and I watched intently as she sauntered onto the dancefloor into the throng of people. I could still see her as she danced and gyrated and caught the attention of other men, I just sipped at my rye and felt my cock getting hard.
Several songs faded in and out and she just kept making her rounds, every now and then one of them would move kiss her or push her hand up her skirt and she would move on to the next. I was already three or four glasses in and well on my way to being drunk, and with every sip I lost more of my inhibition. She was brought drinks while others would whisper things in her ear that I could only speculate on. Probably coke, I thought as I eyed the current contender, he looks like a coke guy. Or whatever drug twenty-somethings did now, but I figured coke never went out of style.
I downed the rest of the glass in one swig and pushed myself off the bench seat, holding eye contact as I stalked toward her. The man behind her protested as she pushed him away and waited for him, she didn’t give him a second glance.
“You’re a cute little tease, Miss Morrison,” I whispered in her ear, letting my hands drift down to grab her ass as she leaned into me and locked her arms around my neck. “You made them want you, what am I going to do with you about that?”
“Take me home and put me over your knee?” she offered coyly.
“Well now that doesn’t seem like much of a punishment,” I chided. “What would your Master say if he was here?”
Lydia half straddled my leg, grinding herself against my thigh and aching cock. “He’d be thrilled that I’m making other guys jealous,” she answered with a laugh. “Is that what you like, Daddy? Having them be jealous of you?”
I glanced up and caught two pissed off glares from men she danced with. I did like that they were jealous and Patrick did too, maybe we were a little fucked up for that because all I could think of was the envious stares they’d have if they could see what she did for me – for us. “I love that they’re jealous,” I answered finally. “And I love you for being my obedient little slut and making them jealous.”
“You love me even though you think I’m a child?” she asked pointedly.
“I love the adult woman that makes her own choices and loves me back.”
She stood up on her tiptoes and I leaned down the last few inches. “You promise?”
“I promise.”