The DILF (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

5: In Which She Plans a Party

5: In Which She Plans a Party

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As the days rolled by and became weeks, I realised that it was completely stupid of me to continue buying morning-after pills when that morning after had been weeks ago.  There wouldn't be any other mornings, would there? But then I'd thought that going on the Pill would make it seem like I expected more mornings. In the end, I just decided to stop all the pointless trips and just go on the Pill.

Sandy – the girl who sat behind the counter at the pharmacist's flipping through magazines – was probably moderately sad to lose the business I gave her father.

It hardly mattered that I had all kinds of other contraception stuffed into my suitcase. What mattered was that it was there; a reminder that I had done a terrible thing and that the possibility of bringing another child into this world with Devin Shaw as its father was very real and very frightening to even contemplate.

Not that I'm thinking about it, I thought emphatically, watching Ophelia chase Bullet, Lydia's dog, out to the shore. Fee was an extremely competent swimmer but I wasn't going to take any chances.

"Does she look like me?"

I was becoming used to Devin popping up out of nowhere with nothing but his unique scent and overbearing presence as a warning. He was as unpredictable as the stock market.

"What kind of an idiotic question is that?" I asked him, willing myself not to turn and look at him. Even a sideways glance would be like staring Medusa in the face.

"Idiotic? No. Rational? Yes. I'll be the first to admit that Natalya was a whore," Devin said candidly, his hands deep in the pockets of his noir Levi's.

Natalya Kovalenko was now a full-fledged Playboy model with the world – or, rather, Hugh Hefner – as her oyster. It irked me to think that she'd chosen full-frontal nudity over a chance to raise her incredible daughter.

"And I bet that's what drew you to her in the first place," I reminded Devin.

"That's none of your business," he snapped, and I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"Hey, you brought the subject up." Suddenly, something clicked. I turned to glare at him. "Is that why you won't allow yourself to get close to Ophelia?" I hissed, ignoring how utterly divine he looked. "Because you're not sure if she's yours?"

"I had a paternity test done."

"Well done, you prick." How could anyone not want Ophelia?

His brow furrowed. "Are you deliberately trying to get yourself fired?"

"That depends. Are you deliberately trying to be a complete dickhead to the detriment of your daughter?" I countered.

His mouth – full, peach lips as kissable as they were the day I met him – became a thin line of quiet anger.

"I need a smoke."

As soon as he said that, I remembered what it was like to taste the faint flavour of cigarettes on his breath and I couldn't look anywhere but his mouth. If the sun hadn't decided to suddenly glare into my eyes, I probably wouldn't have torn my eyes away from him until it was too late.

"You do that," I told him, my voice hoarse. "Run away when you're so near to your daughter. You're good at running." My gaze briefly flitted back to Ophelia, who was bent over picking at something in the sand. With her cloud of inky-black hair swishing behind her like a flag, it wasn't that hard to miss her.