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House of Cards

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Dave peeked around the living room entranceway to peer at the front door.  When he saw the blonde hair, the eyes looking at him through the decorative glass, he stepped back out of sight.Shit.  “…Richelle’s argumentative and abrasive, just like her mother.  Neither have a God damn filter.  She’s going to be a horrible influence on Dawn,” his wife said over coffee that morning, just after their daughter left for school.Dave looked down.  The bottom of his faded Broncos T-shirt brushed the top of his waist and hugged his deltoids and pecs, having shrunken in the dryer over the years.  His fraying blue flannel pajama pants were soft enough to justify freeballing.  It was his work-at-home attire, nothing he’d ever want to be caught wearing in public.“I saw you, Dave,” Nicolette said, her voice tinny through the door.  “Does your wife tell you who you can speak to, also?”“Great.  Here we go.  Thanks a lot, Pam,” he muttered.    Leaving the living room doorway, he closed the last few steps to the foyer.  Unlocked the dead bolt to the front door with a thunk and pulled it open.  He squinted in the sunlight at the woman on his doorstep.“Nicolette.  Good morning.”She raised a thick brown eyebrow, a hand on her hip.  “Is it?  Because my daughter’s best friend told her she wasn’t ‘allowed’ to hang out with her anymore.  Since when do we forbid our kids from people who are different from us, instead of teaching them how to handle that or trust them to be the great kids we’ve raised them to be?” He pressed his lips together.  Dave had said the same thing to his wife that morning.  bahis şirketleri Since they hadn’t been on the same side, they’d agreed to discuss it later.  Apparently she had decided to carry on and convince him later.  Again.“You know, Pam’s always acted like she’s better than everyone else, but I expected more from you.”  Nicolette tossed her head to the side, whipping her long blonde bangs from her eyes.  She kicked her flip flops off.  Slapped her palm against the door and pushed it open.  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m here to get Chelle’s hoodie since she’s banned from coming back.”She stepped through the threshold, squeezing past him into the house.“Hey!”  She didn’t turn.  Fuck.  Gritting his teeth, he glanced at the hulking two-story house in front of them, then down the street.  No one.  Thank fucking God.  He let out a breath.  Swinging the door shut, he turned around.  Nicolette stood in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips.  Her low ponytail twisted in little waves down the spine of her sports bra, adding femininity to the tight, tanned little muscles of her back and shoulders.  The loosely coiled hair shook over her back as she looked around the living room.“Jesus Christ, Nic.”  He wiped a hand down his face, trying to keep his cool.  “She’s not banned.”“That’s not what Dawn’s saying.”  She crouched, looking under the couch and chairs.David sighed.  “What does the sweater look like?”“It’s an emerald green and black tie dye hoodie.  Zips up the front.”  She whirled around, narrowing her eyes at him.  “Don’t you have any balls, bahis firmaları or does she have those in a cage too?”He flinched.  Stress pinched his shoulders as he fought the urge to defend himself and his wife.  Or even acknowledge he’d thought the same thing.  “That’s totally inappropriate.”“Sure it is.  I bet Queen Pamela doesn’t even get on her knees for you anymore.”  She licked her lips.  The tremors started in his hands.  In seconds, his blood was hot.  His balls tightened, his cock thickening at the mention of its pleasure.   God dammit.“What the fuck, Nicolette.”  His voice was monotone, hard.  Eighteen years ago he’d slept with someone else.  It was nothing but slip up for his bruised ego when Pam had other things that had taken precedence.  But Pamela was all he’d ever wanted.  He’d sworn he’d never be alone with another woman again, never put himself in the position to lose control.  The hint of a smile danced on Nicolette’s closed mouth.He grit his teeth.  Stared at her.  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” “Sure.  After I find Richelle’s sweatshirt.”  She shrugged, her head cocked to the side.  “Fine.”  Taking a deep breath, he counted to three.  Then jacked his thumb over his shoulder toward the tiny hallway across the foyer.  “It’s probably in Dawn’s room.”  When she turned and stalked toward his daughter’s room, he caught sight of her taut, trim ass.  Her toned legs in those tight black leggings.  He felt his cock harden even more, the soft flannel hugging his crotch.  Shit.  He dragged behind, giving her more room and himself more time kaçak bahis siteleri to will away his erection.  But when he reached the doorway to his daughter’s room, Nicolette was bent over, pawing through Dawn’s chest of drawers, and he couldn’t remember ever being harder.“What are you doing?” he demanded, grasping the doorway.  Didn’t trust himself to close the distance between them.“Looking for the sweatshirt.”“Nicolette.”  He raked his top teeth over his lower lip and exhaled.  Let go of the doorway.  “Look.  You can’t just go through my daughter’s things.  I’ll give it to Dawn to give to Richelle if we find it.  But it’s time for you to go.”She stood.  Tugged down the hem of her blousy tank and looked around the room as if he’d said nothing.  His gaze dropped to her arms, moved up to her shoulders and collarbones.  Her neck and face. Nic had barely aged.  Never let herself go.  Never settled, never got too comfortable, never lost the fire of youth.  Took part in protests, knew all the artists in town, all the leaders.  Lived on the edge of everything.But sometimes… maybe… in reach.He curled his fingers into fists, his blood raging with lust.Don’t.Nic glided over to the doorway of the open closet.  She reached up to the shelves above the rack, upper arm and back muscles flexing as she moved.  Shadows popped and disappeared under her shoulder blades.  Her hair swept her back with the movements of her face.“Your wife is always talking about her daughter.”He froze at the topic change.“How she’s in the National Junior Honor Society and she almost went to the Junior Olympics for swimming, all this crap.  When that runs out, she brags about her own practice and how many surgeries she does every day.  Or the remodeling she wants to do on your giant house and the new fancy car she wants to get.”

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