Mister Moneybags(67)

“You’re such a pig.”

He chuckled and he massaged my neck. “As long as I’m being a pig, I might as well admit that I have a recurring fantasy about rubbing a certain warm cream into this beautiful skin.”

His fingers worked on a knot at the apex of my shoulder where it met my neck. Loosening it, my head dropped down a little lower. “Oh yeah? And where exactly would you be rubbing this cream?”

Dex’s fingers slowed. “You really want me to tell you?”

“Of course.”

His fingers came to a complete stop, and his voice was low as he leaned forward to whisper. His warm breath tickled my neck. “Sometimes when I’m in the shower, I envision myself coming all over your tits and rubbing it in.”

When I didn’t immediately respond, Dex must have taken that as a sign that what he’d told me made me uncomfortable. Which it did, but not the kind of uncomfortable he was thinking. The discomfort was from the growing swell that ached between my legs.

“Should I have kept that to myself?” he asked.

I swallowed and whispered, “No. Actually. Tell me more.”

“You want to hear more about how I fantasize about you?”

“I do.”

Dex was quiet for a moment and then his fingers began to rub again. “I think of you lying on your back, your hands squeezing those beautiful tits together while I straddle your chest and slip my cock between them.”

I wiggled between his legs and felt his hard-on up against my ass. “You want to know what I think about when I fantasize about you?”

“I’d empty my bank account and sign over my penthouse to hear you tell me your fantasies right now.”

I chuckled. “Well, it starts with you opening …” My deviant, fictional adventure was put on hold when Dex’s cell phone started to ring.

“Ignore it,” he said. Go on.”

“But…it’s sort of late. Almost ten o’clock. Don’t you want to even see who it is?”

His response came so fast it made me laugh. “No.” After a few more rings the cell phone quieted. Dex prompted me to continue. “So…where were you? What am I opening? The door? My pants? Your pants? A bag? Handcuffs? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

I giggled. “Okay. Well, I had this one sort of daydream where you open…” As if on cue, Dex’s cell phone started to ring again. The damn thing was vibrating and jumping around on the end table.

“Maybe you should get that.”

“No.”

“At least see who it is.”

Begrudgingly, Dex reached for his phone. He stared at the screen for a ring before speaking. “It’s my father’s wife, Myra.”

“Aren’t they in the Caribbean? Why would she be calling? And so late?”

Dex swiped and brought the phone to his ear with a huff. I listened to one side of the conversation. His body immediately stiffened.

“What happened?”

“When?”

“Where is he?”

My heart sank waiting to find out the details, but it was clear whatever it was, was not good. After he hung up, Dex immediately got up from the bed and started pacing back and forth. I was almost afraid to ask.

“What happened?”

“My father. He had a massive heart attack.”

“Oh my God. Is he…”

“He’s in CCU. He’s alive but hasn’t woken up yet.”

“In Turks?”

“It happened on a plane. Apparently, he hadn’t been feeling well, and they decided to come home early so he could see his doctor. Happened a few minutes before they were landing in Florida tonight.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dex ran his fingers through his hair. “I need to go down there. First flight in the morning.”

“I’ll go with you.”

He looked at me. “You sure?”

“I want to be there for you.”

After a few heartbeats, he nodded. Then he proceeded to pick up the phone and call the airline. While he barked into the phone, I put away the moisturizer he’d been massaging me with and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Standing at the kitchen counter, it dawned on me for the first time…I was about to meet my biological father.

Maybe.

I needed wine instead.





Dex was quiet the entire flight down to Florida. He’d spoken to Myra first thing this morning while we were headed to the airport and found out that his father needed a triple bypass, along with a valve replacement. His heart was weak after the massive heart attack, but they couldn’t waste time because of the ninety-nine percent blockage. Surgery was scheduled for this afternoon.

When we arrived at Good Samaritan Medical Center, Dex already knew the room number so we breezed right past the line at the patient information desk and followed the signs for the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors closed that I had really given any thought to what my showing up might do to Dex Sr. Up until then, I’d been only focusing on wanting to support Dex.

“Maybe I should wait out in the hall when you go in to see him.”

Dex was normally so present, so aware of everything around him; it was odd to see him in a fog. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”