DDD: Daddies Dirty Desires

Maya’s POV “Tomorrow I will introduce you to your soon-to-be stepdad!” Mom said, beaming as she’d just won the lottery instead of announcing husband number eight. I forced a tight smile, the kind that hurts your cheeks, and swallowed the urge to gag right there on the living-room rug. Mom changes husbands the way I change underwear—frequently, carelessly, and always with the next one waiting in the wings. I’ve watched her do it since I was old enough to count. Seven times. Old men with money, young men with egos, all of them eventually walking out the door or getting walked out. And now this. I’d just dragged my suitcase through the front door after three months away at school, still smelling like airport coffee and airplane air, and this is the welcome-home gift she hands me—a new daddy. I needed a drink. Badly. I showered fast, threw on the black dress that hugs my hips like a promise, the one with the neckline that makes people forget their manners, and left without saying goodbye. The house felt too small anyway. The club was loud, dark, and perfect. Bass thumped through my bones as I slid onto a stool at the bar. “I’ll take a glass of whiskey,” I told the bartender. New guy. Didn’t recognize him. Good. No small talk from someone who knew my mom’s face from too many nights out. He nodded, poured, and slid the glass over. I exhaled slowly, letting the noise wrap around me like a blanket. Here, no one asked questions. Here, I could breathe. The first sip burned sweet down my throat, spreading warmth across my chest. I closed my eyes for a second, savoring it. “That's your usual?” The voice came from my right—deep, smooth, edged with just enough tease to make me turn my head. Well, well, hello, handsome. He leaned against the bar as if he owned it. Broad shoulders under a dark button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark hair a little messy like he’d run his hand through it. A few days’ scruff sharpened an already dangerous jaw. Blue eyes caught the low light and held mine without apology. That slow, knowing smirk said he’d already decided I was interesting. I smiled back, swirling the ice in my glass. “Maybe. Or maybe I like to keep things interesting.” His lips curled higher. “Good answer.” He nodded at my drink. “Though I have to say, I expected something a little stronger.” I raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do I look like I should be drinking?” He studied me then—slow, deliberate, fingers tapping the side of his own glass. His gaze dragged down my throat, over the swell of my chest, back up to my eyes. “Straight whiskey. Maybe a double. You’ve got that look.” I tilted my head, amused despite myself. “What look is that?” “Like you’ve been through some things,” he said quietly. “And like you’re trying real hard not to let them get to you.” The words landed heavier than they should have. For a second, the club noise faded, and it was just his voice and the way he saw me—too clearly, too easily. I laughed lightly to cover the hitch in my breath, took another sip. “And I thought I was just here for a drink.” His grin spread slowly and lazily, dangerous in the best way. “Drinks are better with good company.” I angled my body toward him, letting my knee brush his—just enough pressure to feel the heat of him through the fabric. “You offering your company?” He extended his hand. “Matthew Thompson. Best company in town.” I rolled my eyes, but the smirk stayed on my lips as I slid my hand into his. His grip was firm, warm, calloused in places that made my stomach tighten. “Maya Jones,” I said. “We’ll see about that.” His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist once—deliberate—before he let go. And just like that, the night cracked open. I didn’t know it yet, but tomorrow everything would change. Tomorrow I would have to play the perfect daughter and meet the man Mom wants me to call stepdad. But tonight? Tonight, I am going to have fun!