Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad(15)

"Yeah, I knew, the ghost isn't a ghost, his name is front and center on  the covers, so it's obvious. So no worries, you didn't burst any bubbles  or pull skeletons out of the closet. But yeah, I like Ludlum's old  stuff best, written by Ludlum himself and not his ghostwriter. It's all  about Soviet-era espionage, but when you're an old school dude like me,  it's all good."

And I flushed then.

"No, I like it too," I said boldly. "Sure, it happened before I was  born, but I read about the Berlin Wall coming down, I love crime fiction  set during that era. It's got repercussions too, what with Putin and  the West dueling over influence."

The big man looked at me curiously then.

"You follow the news?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

And I nodded, still standing over by the door.

"Who couldn't? What with Russia allegedly gaming the recent elections,  truth is stranger than fiction, don't you think?" I asked with a wry  smile. "I thought about majoring in computer science because it's such a  hot topic, but computers aren't really my thing."

And the big man chuckled deep in his chest.

"Honey, I don't think that hackers necessarily go to college and get  engineering degrees. I think those mofos started young, tinkering with  toasters when they were five, and getting up to no good out of curiosity  when they were kids. They've been honing their skills for the dark side  for a long time, it's not something college is there to teach."

And I nodded, stepping closer.

"I totally agree," I said seriously. "I took a programming class and it  was crazy. Even during the first week, it seemed like half the guys  already knew the entire textbook backwards and forwards, and I was the  only one trying to get through Chapter One. But I think," and here, I  smiled ruefully, "that they were all there for easy A's. They knew the  material already, and Intro to Programming was a dummy course for them."

Mr. Martin nodded, looking at me closely.

"What did you say you were studying?" he growled. "Come on, up here with me," he said, patting the space next to him.

And in a flash, I'd scrambled onto the big bed, but instead of sitting  in the designated area, I got under the covers next to him, snuggling  against that hard male form.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, gasping a bit. Because as predicted, he'd gone  commando and when my leg touched his, burrowing between his knees, I  felt the brush of his bare cock against my thigh, hard, stiff and  aching.

The big man just growled.

"Honey, I've been hard the minute you stepped in," he drawled. "You didn't think I'd be any other way, did you?"         

     



 

And I shook my head mutely.

"No, but  …  I guess I was still surprised," I whispered, looking deep into those blue eyes.

And Mr. Martin grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it higher around  his waist while circling his arm around my back, hauling me close.

"Now baby, what was your major again?" he rumbled. And the vibrations  felt good against my small form, emanating from his chest to permeate  through my curvy form. I sighed, in heaven, burrowing against him,  breasts pressed against the side of his torso, nestling my head on his  shoulder.

"I'm majoring in Communications," I said shyly. "But don't you think this is weird? Me and you, um, together like this?"

He shot a look my way, craning his head to glance down me. God, he was  so close, I could almost lick that square jaw, press my lips to that  bronzed neck.

And Mr. Martin grinned, rumbling, "No, feels fine to me," he rumbled. "You?"

I thought for a moment, curves pressed against his big form. It was  comfy this way, so warm and toasty, he seemed to radiate heat and I was  drawn to him, loving the hardness, the sensuality. And I loved how I  already had a leg crossed over his intimately, my girls pressed against  him, not an inch separating us. But what man could handle a conversation  when we were entwined like lovers?

"I'm just concerned," I said in a small voice. "I mean, I know you're  hard and I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Do you want me to, um, do  something about it?"

And the big man half-chuckled, half-choked in his chest.

"Naw honey, no need, no need to do anything just yet. I want to get to  know you," he ground out. "I want to know everything that's going on in  that pretty little head and how it's led to this," he said, nudging me  with his toe.

And I blushed.

"You mean, my virginity," I whispered. "How I'm still a virgin even though I'm dating Jonah?"

He nodded.

"That would be a start," he said dryly. "And if you told me Jonah's gay,  I wouldn't be surprised because what other possible answer could there  be?"

I flushed because his son wasn't gay, that wasn't it. But I didn't feel  right divulging Jonah's secrets either, so I just took a deep breath.

"I'm not sure where I am with your son," I admitted truthfully. "It  seems like he wants to date me but at the same time doesn't."

Okay, that was a twisted answer if there was any. But the big man just nodded.

"Go on," he commanded, and I sighed again, squirming closer to him.

"I feel like Jonah wants me on his arm for some reason or other," I said  slowly, "Not that I'm so beautiful or charming or anything, but like he  wants to be seen with me, to show me off. But we've never done anything  physical," I whispered shyly, unable to meet Mr. Martin's eyes for a  moment. "I've asked him about it, and he always puts it off, saying that  we should wait until next semester."

Mr. Martin let out a low growl then.

"He's got to be gay, what red-blooded man would turn down the  opportunity to be physical with you? To touch those lush tits, taste the  cream from your pussy? Fuck, my son has to be gay."

And I blushed as his dirty words, at what Mr. Martin was implying he  wanted to do to me. But my head shook again because no, Jonah wasn't  gay, he was just into a different type of life.

"I think," I said hesitantly. "Jonah's exploring a lot of things,  finding himself, and isn't that what college is all about?" I said with a  wry smile. "Finding yourself and discovering things about yourself that  you didn't know, making the transition from childhood to adult life?"

The big man ran a warm hand down my back, his palm large, square and caressing.

"Honey, that's exactly what college is, finding yourself during those  four years is more important than what major you are or even what grades  you get," he ground out. "I just hope this process of "figuring it out"  works for my son, that it's not going to be four years of waste."

And I shook my head.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I replied firmly. "He'll find it. Not with me,  but maybe with someone else. And not a man," I said hurriedly.

And Mr. Martin let out another low laugh.

"Don't worry baby," he chucked me under the chin. "I don't care if Jonah  dates someone male, female, purple, green, with polka dots or stripes. I  just want him to go through the process and not waste his time doing  something that he doesn't care about, that's not going to make a  difference in his life. But enough about him," he said, squeezing my  hip. "What about you? What's in store for Alison West?"         

     



 

And I blushed again.

"What do you mean, what's in store?"

He shrugged.

"What are you gonna do after school? Internships? Full-time job? Grad school?"

And I blushed then.

"I'm not sure, to tell you the truth, because I'm a freshman so  nothing's set in stone," I confessed. "But I was thinking maybe  communications so I could help grow a business's sales, work in PR or  something like that."

And Rob shot me another wry look, eyebrows raised.

"Marketing or PR, huh?" he asked. "You know the most beautiful girls go  into those areas so that when old dudes like me come calling, it's  easier to make a sale."

And I blushed.

"No, no, that's not why I want to go into it. I'm not pretty," I said,  blushing. "I just really think it's interesting to craft a corporation's  image, to be a company's liaison to the outer world, to coordinate  advertising, press releases, even social media these days. It's totally  something I'd like to do."

And Mr. Martin looked down at me again.

"Seems like you've got a plan then," he said lightly. "There are lots of  opportunities in NYC for a girl like you, one with ambition and talent.  Do you have an internship lined up for this summer yet?"

And I bit my lip. Because I did, but my feelings were conflicted.

"I do," I admitted slowly. "It's with a big company out in Minneapolis,  where I'm from, Tru-Value Appliances, but I don't really want to go," I  said.

He glanced down at me.

"Why not?" blue eyes curious.

And I sighed.

"I should be grateful to have something lined up, especially for my  freshman summer," I said ruefully. "But it's Minneapolis and while I  adore my hometown, it's just not where I want to be," I said ruefully.  "I love New York City, my parents scrimped and saved so I could come,  and I'll miss it in summer," I continued. "I want to stay and see what  there is, see what opportunities present themselves. But you know what?"  I took a deep breath, getting a hold of myself. "I need to be more  grateful because having something, anything, is already a huge plus."