Off Limits Daddy, page 1
Off Limits Daddy
A Forbidden Romance
S.E. Law
Copyright © 2021 by S.E. Law
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Also by S.E. Law
Forbidden Fantasies
My Fiance’s Dad
Trailer Park Daddy
While He Watches
Her Secret Baby
The Clients
Hunger
My Dad’s Best Friend
My Best Friend’s Dad
Trapped By My Boss
Pregnant By The Doctor
Pregnant By The Alpha
Making His Baby
First Time Escort
First Time Menage
My Roommate’s Dad
Filthy Twin Cowboys
Filthy Twin Cops
The CEO’s Baby
The Soldier’s Baby
Filthy Twin Stepbrothers
Off Limits Daddy
My Boyfriend’s Dad
My Sweet Fake Fiancée
Mistaken For An Escort
Daddy In Secret
Pushing Her Limits
Partner In Crime
Father and Son
Sweet Treats
His Candy Cane
Her Juicy Cherry
Her Honey Pot
Second Helpings
Sugar Walls
Please and Tease
Forbidden Fruit
Band of Brothers
Her Italian Wedding
Double XL
The Boyfriend Diaries
Mommy’s Ex
Mommy’s Boss
Mommy’s Landlord
Daddy’s Christmas Gift
Daddy’s Holiday Baby
Daddy’s Love Child
Made for Them
Built For Them
Sugar and Spice
The Naughty Party
Blackmail Fantasies
Blackmailing My Dad’s Best Friend
Blackmailed By My Dad’s Boss
Blackmailed In The Boudoir
Blackmailed By My Teacher
Irresistible Bachelors
Sweet as Candy
Must Be Love
Meant To Be
Standalones
You’re Mine
Boss of My Panties
Naughty Relations
About Last Night
About This Morning
About That Evening
About My Daddies
Playing with Them
Playing with the Doctors
Playing with the Criminals
Playing with her Priests
Healing Hands
Dr. Feelgood
Dr. Man Candy
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Contents
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Filthy Twin Stepbrothers
Sneak Peek: His Candy Cane
About the Author
About This Book
Nella: I was set up on a blind date by my best friend Marley. I said no, but she promised that my date would be incredibly hot, panty-meltingly gorgeous, and a CEO too. What she didn’t mention is that Paul is arrogant, domineering, and downright rude, even if he has the sculpted body of a gladiator. Oh, and guess what else? Paul used to date my mom.
* * *
Paul: I’m not exactly a nice guy. I have a certain itch that need to be scratched, so I’ve always focused on cougars. Older ladies can handle my desires without completely losing their minds and freaking out in the process. But one look at the innocent girl tells me that my assumptions were wrong, and sure enough … Nella’s pregnant with my child on the first try!
* * *
This story is the next in the series after First Time Escort, My Roommate’s Dad, and The CEO’s Baby, except this time, it’s Nella who meets the man of her dreams. Sure, she wants to slap that smirk off Paul’s face, but she also wants to kiss him while being wrapped in those strong arms. It’s a war of the wills and there’s only good news at the end because of an unexpected gift from the stork! All my books may be read as standalones. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.
1
Nella
* * *
“I’m just saying, when I was standing on stage with my degree in hand, this isn’t exactly the future I had in mind,” I exclaim in frustration, fuming to my friend Marley over the phone.
“I know,” Marls says in a sympathetic voice. “That wasn’t what I thought either, but you know what? When one door closes, another one opens. Stay strong, girlfriend! It will work out, I promise.”
I huff a bit because it’s easy for Marley to say. In an incredible turn of events, Marley is now married to a CEO. Even crazier, they met when her husband went to her apartment to repossess her car. Isn’t that insane? Most people hate the repo man, but in Marley’s case, she married him.
Nonetheless, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath.
“I never thought my degree would be nothing but a two hundred thousand dollar piece of paper,” I say in a disgusted tone. “Who would have guessed?”
Marley clucks again.
“I know, I know, but it’s going to be fine,” she says. “You’ll see.”
But it’s been tough because I’d love to put my Fine Arts degree to work. When they began offering this concentration at NYU, I leapt at the opportunity and immediately signed up. I’ve always adored drawing and painting, and hope to make a living as an artist one day.
However, right now, I’m a far cry from supporting myself via my creativity. Sure, I’ve sold a few illustrations to a couple of magazines here and there, but it’s nowhere near enough to pay my bills. As a result, I moonlight with an agency called City Girls in Manhattan as a high-end escort. We accompany men on dates and provide the “girlfriend experience,” all for an exorbitant price of course.
Tonight, I went on a date with a client named James, which partially explains why I’m in such a bad mood. He wanted to meet at a roller-skating rink, which isn’t so terrible because it’s a fun activity, even if I’m uncoordinated. Plus, James wasn’t so awful to look at. When I got to the rink, I saw an average looking guy about five foot six with brown hair and narrow shoulders. My date was wearing dark jeans and a navy jacket, which are rather “blah,” but I’d prefer blah to insane. Conversation drudged on throughout the night, but I smiled and nodded because it’s my job. Unfortunately, James genuinely thinks that accounting is interesting, and so he went on and on and on about the topic without stopping to take a breath.
“The nerve of some people!” he complained. “I had a client today whine about the number of hours I charged him for. I explained to him that it only took me so long because of how disorganized his records were, but he wouldn’t listen! He told me it’s my job to organize their records for them and he refuses to pay extra for me being slow,” James scoffed. “Slow? Yeah right. I’m fast and good, he just doesn’t realize how good I am.”
I smiled wanly.
“I’m sure he’ll realize in time.”
James merely hunched his shoulders and shrugged into his jacket while skating in a circle. “You never know,” he said darkly. “There is just no appreciation in this world! People need to learn gratitude.”
I merely smiled again, although internally, I was dying a slow death. I began racking my mind for a way to change the subject. Anything but more accountant talk! But as luck would have it, I didn’t need to because James created his own diversion. I was opening my mouth to make conversation when suddenly, I heard a weird grunting noise and then a short scream.
My date’s arms were flailing around wildly, his feet kicking beneath him searching for balance. Before I could react, James had toppled over onto the floor. He landed in a heavy heap right in front of me, causing me to screech to a halt on my rental skates just in time to avoid collapsing on the floor along with him. But to my surprise, my date’s moppy brown hair flew right off his head and plopped down on the rink, landing an impressive two feet past his own spilling point.
‘He was wearing a toupee?!’ a horrified voice screamed in my mind. James’s hair did look funny when I arrived, but I figured it was just a bad haircut. Now, everyone was staring at the wig, currently detached from my date’s shiny bald crown. It looked like a dead animal on the ground, which had been run over a few times for good measure. I cringed at the sight.
A young girl screamed across the rink. “Mommy, what is that thing? Is it a squirrel?”
A few people clapped their hands over their mouths trying to hide their laughter, and I felt my face turn burning bright red as I stood there mortified. James didn’t look much better as he stumbled to his feet and grabbed his toupee with glassy shameful eyes. Then, we exited the stadium and called it a night. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes. He merely mumbled something that sounde
“Oh my god, are you serious?” Marley giggles over the phone. “Why doesn’t he just stay bald? Bald guys can be very good-looking, like the Rock or Vin Diesel.”
“Well, for one, James didn’t have the physique of the Rock or Vin Diesel,” I say dryly. “He’s more along the lines of Fred Savage.”
Marley giggles again.
“Hey, Fred Savage isn’t that bad. I mean, he’s old but he looks young still!”
But I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to comment on the pros and cons of an 80’s sitcom star.
“This would never happen if my art would just take off already,” I vent miserably over the phone. “Why why why?”
My friend immediately becomes serious.
“Becoming a successful artist takes time,” she reassures. “You’re very talented and I know one day you’ll be able to support yourself solely with your illustrations. In the meantime, you have City Girls. Don’t be sad because it’s a good gig, girlfriend! The clients suck sometimes, but it’s fine. At least it was just a wig, and nothing more serious.”
I sigh. Deep down I know Marley is right. Most artists have to wait tables at shabby restaurants or change bed sheets at the Hilton just to get by. Meanwhile, I get paid a pretty penny to put on a smile and get wined and dined by rich, successful men. I have it easy by comparison, and I should be grateful.
Plus, I am making progress with my career. I did sell some illustrations in the past month, and while I may not be making a living at it just yet, it’s more than nothing. But I’m still far too enraged by tonight’s humiliation to be anything but angry.
“You weren’t there!” I assert. “Everybody at the skating rink was looking at us in disgust. It was so embarrassing.”
Marley laughs sympathetically.
“But Nells, they’re just random strangers you’ll never see again. Besides, clients are clients, and at least you got paid tonight, right?”
I let out a sigh. She’s right. She’s always right because Marley is one of the most grounded individuals I know. Even when life throws her the wildest of scenarios, she’s able to keep her wits about her. My friend is the only person I know that could bring me back to Earth during one of my freak-outs.
“I know,” I finally grumble. “But still, I want more than this. You have an amazing husband, a beautiful child, and your dream career. I want that too!”
“Sure, but not so long ago I was in exactly your place,” she reminds me. “My current life fell into my lap exactly when it was supposed to. And your dream life will come to you when it’s supposed to too.”
“Yes, but when?” I ask, continuing my pity party. “It’s incredibly difficult to meet a boyfriend when you’re working for City Girls. And let’s be honest: most guys don’t want to date an escort for obvious reasons. They think we’re sluts, so I have to keep this job on the downlow!” Tears fill my eyes now as I look down at my feet.
But then Marley’s voice comes in my ear, perky and excited.
“I know what you’re talking about, but I may have a solution. Let me set you up on a blind date. I have a great guy in mind,” she says enthusiastically.
“I don’t know,” I say hesitantly. “Blind dates are usually bad news.”
“Trust me, you’ll like this guy,” she quickly responds. “You’ve always liked the same guys as me.”
I make a face, although she can’t see.
“Oh eew, I don’t want to be set up with an old boyfriend of yours or anything! That would be gross.”
She giggles.
“What?! No! I didn’t mean it like that. The man I have in mind is open-minded, and I’ve never dated him, I promise.” I ponder the idea for a moment. Blind dates generally don’t work out well, but on the other hand, it couldn’t possibly go any worse than tonight. Plus, I am kind of desperate. I haven’t been on a real date in probably more than a year at this point.
“Okay,” I say with some apprehension. “But does he wear a wig?”
Marley giggles mirthfully.
“Not as far as I know,” she drawls.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Then I’ll go out with this guy if you insist.”
“Eeek!” Marley squeals into the phone. “Oh, I’m so excited. You’re going to love him because he’s incredibly handsome, so smart, and filthy rich too.”
I worm my toe into the shabby carpet, suddenly very curious about the guy she has in mind.
“Who is he?” I ask. “Why is he still single if he’s all these good things?”
But my friend just clucks.
“You’ll have to wait and see because I’m not going to let you dive into an all-night Google research project. You’ll like him, trust me. I’ll text you the details of the date, okay? Watch your phone.”
“This better be good,” I mumble in a tragi-comic way. But then I perk up. “No seriously Marls,” I say, suddenly remembering my manners. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the fact that you thought of me.”
She giggles.
“Of course, girlfriend. Anything for you, Nells.”
With that, we hang up and I sigh deeply before sinking into my couch. Truth be told, I don’t have much hope for my blind date, despite what Marley says. After all, I’m basically an expert when it comes to men because of my job, and I’ve been let down time and time again.
But who knows, anything can happen, right? Tomorrow is a new day, and with that, I lift my chin and smile. I will find love, even if right now, the situation feels hopeless.
2
Paul
* * *
I’m meeting my date tonight at the Stuyvesant Hotel in Chelsea. This place is a favorite of mine because from the outside, the hotel looks like nothing. It’s a mere six stories in a city full of glass towers, and the exterior is red brick with just one sign in block letters across the front.
But upon entering the lobby, the Stuyvesant immediately begins to impress. The hotel’s dome entryway is magnificent and encircled by large gothic pillars which hint at the historic architecture inside. The lobby itself has large cathedral ceilings lit by crystal chandeliers, and white marble floors are set with a diamond mosaic resembling an Aztec design. It’s swanky, yet discreet, which I like.
After all, my cousin’s wife, Marley, has set me up on a blind date with one of her friends, and thus a fancy location is warranted. I typically wouldn’t agree to something like this because blind dates aren’t my thing, but Marley was persistent. She promised me that this woman was someone I wouldn’t want to miss. At first I demurred, but Marley wouldn’t let go, so I said yes because it was easier to give in.
I’m sort-of dreading tonight though because usually, these encounters are stiff and the girl’s never exactly what you’re looking for. Plus, there’s something about meeting a date organically that makes the sex so much better, which matters a lot in my book. But I’m an optimist. In the back of my mind, I’m secretly hoping for the best. Meeting women is getting to be a drag because it comes so easily to me. It’s almost like breathing, but the hard part is that I have particular sexual proclivities, and when women find out about them, they get uncomfortable. As a result, I might as well give this blind date a try.
Over the rim of my glass, I spot a beautiful young brunette making her way into the lobby. She’s tentative and pauses a bit, giving me a chance to really look at her. Her long brown curls gently bounce as those high heels click across the marble floor. Even more, she’s wearing a deep red cocktail gown that hugs each of her generous curves, showing them off to their best effect. Now this is a woman I’d like to get to know.
