Don’t Be A D**k Read online

  Don’t Be A D**k

  Felicia Fox

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Continue on and get to know Aine and Cian with the first chapter of,

  Donut Go Breaking My Heart Cover

  Donut Go Breaking My Heart

  Chapter 1

  Paperback Cover for Donut Go Breaking My Heart

  Other works by Felicia Fox

  About the Author

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  COPYRIGHT © FELICIA FOX, 2018

  COPYRIGHT: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. WITHOUT LIMITING THE RIGHTS UNDER COPYRIGHT RESERVED ABOVE, NO PART OF THIS PUBLICATION MAY BE REPRODUCED, STORED IN OR INTRODUCED INTO A RETRIEVAL SYSTEM, OR TRANSMITTED, IN ANY FORM, OR BY ANY MEANS (ELECTRONIC, MECHANICAL, PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING, OR OTHERWISE) WITHOUT THE PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION OF BOTH THE COPYRIGHT OWNER AND THE PUBLISHER OF THIS BOOK.

  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, BRANDS, MEDIA, AND INCIDENTS ARE EITHER THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR'S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

  THIS EBOOK IS LICENSED FOR YOUR PERSONAL ENJOYMENT ONLY. THIS EBOOK MAY NOT BE RE-SOLD OR GIVEN AWAY TO OTHER PEOPLE. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SHARE THIS BOOK WITH ANOTHER PERSON, PLEASE PURCHASE AN ADDITIONAL COPY FOR EACH RECIPIENT. IF YOU’RE READING THIS BOOK AND DID NOT PURCHASE IT, OR IT WAS NOT PURCHASED FOR YOUR USE ONLY, THEN PLEASE PURCHASE YOUR OWN COPY.

  THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING THIS BOOK RESPECTING THE HARD WORK OF THIS AUTHOR.

  Published by Felicia Fox

  Cover Art by Felicia Fox

  Edited by Karmin Ovard

  Formatting by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Created with Vellum

  Introduction

  Dear Reader!

  Dilfs come in many shapes and forms. From older, confident, in-control men to the single dads who make our ovaries explode. Either way, we gotta admit, they are pretty panty melting!

  This is a collaboration where authors have come together to celebrate Dilfs in a variety of ways for your reading enjoyment, bringing you brand spanking new reads. Temperatures might be dropping outside, but trust us when we say you might want to grab of an ice-cold drink while reading these!

  Love,

  Dilf Mania Authors

  All DILF Mania Reads:

  Steam It Up - Melanie Codina

  Bearded Dessert - Teresa Crumpton

  Revealing Him - Jennifer Domenico

  Don't Be A D**k - Felicia Fox

  Love Without End - Geri Glenn

  I Hope You Dance - Jessika Klide

  For You, I Will - Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Gas Up the Jet, Baby: Nashville - Aubrey Parr

  Daddy Dilemma - GM Scherbert

  Quite Frankly - Mayra Statham

  Daddin' Ain't Easy - Winter Travers

  42

  -Douglas Adams

  I want to thank my fabulous hubby for letting me pick his brain and asking him a million and one annoying questions. I want to thank Haylee Thorne for sprinting with me and helping to give me that added push I needed to get the job done. I especially want to thank my readers for continuing on this story telling journey with me and to those giving my work a go for the first time, I hope you enjoy my dear Carrie, Amelia, and Ryan.

  Love always,

  Felicia Fox

  Chapter 1

  Get it together, Carrie

  “Holy effin shizballs! I am so late,” I said to my brother as I rushed down the street in the perpetual light sprinkling of rain that Seattle is known for. I felt my hair slowly flattening and knew by mid-day I would end up looking like a ratty, long-haired cat that had been thrown into the bathtub.

  “Power outages be damned!” I kicked a pebble out of my way, thinking about how my alarm didn’t go off, totally screwing my whole morning routine.

  I am so not a morning person. I loathe the moment I hear that shrill alarm, and it has to go off a good three times before I will crack open my eyes. “How is it we get hit with rain constantly and here a little wind knocks it all out? Well, at least it isn’t the cold of the North-East.” I shivered thinking of that ridiculous amount of snowfall.

  “You know you missed it here, Carrie,” was his sarcastic remark.

  “Well, of course I did, but I am still going to complain a little, Cian.”

  “Actually, you complain a lot.” He spoke the truth, but he took my complaining like a champion.

  “Ha. Ha. Aren’t you the comedian.”

  “Someone has to be the funny one.”

  “Funny looking.”

  “Your mom!”

  “My mom is your mom, asshat,” was my retort and it made me smile. I live for how our bantering always results in childish bickering. With an argument like this, it was no wonder my parents haven’t made me a partner.

  I knew Cian did it to cheer me up. I also knew that he got as much out of it as I did. I thank my lucky stars that I was blessed with at least one wonderful sibling. Not that our sister Cassandra is terrible. Maybe she suffers from middle child syndrome. No idea, but it had been a while since all three of us C’s had been together. Hopefully, she would still come up here for New Year’s Eve.

  Growing up, everyone knew we were siblings by the matching sets of spring green eyes and sandy blonde hair. Being the youngest, I was watched over like a hawk by those two. It didn’t help that they both lorded their ridiculous height over me. They were pains in the ass but I wouldn’t pick any others to trade them in for. Even with the sudden distance from Cassandra.

  “Oh, how I have missed you, my dear sister.” I could feel his eyes roll over the phone.

  “Shut-up Cian! I have to go face our parents.”

  “For that, I will give you a pass.” I could hear real sympathy in his voice, “Are you going to meet Aine and I for dinner tonight?”

  A moment or two passed as I thought the offer over. “I’m going to have to pass on that one.”

  “It is Friday and I know damn well you have no plans.”

  “Thanks for rubbing salt into my social wounds,” I mumbled into the receiver. I looked down at my outfit knowing if I did meet them, I would still have to go home and change. Not that the black pencil skirt and white polka dot blouse weren’t pretty, but it was a little snug and about the only thing that didn’t need to go to the cleaners. Knowing myself, I wouldn’t have it in me to leave the apartment again once I crossed over that threshold. Nope. I am done for the day at that point.

  “You’re welcome, But seriously, I worry that all you’ve done since coming home is work.”

  “Not true, but if I want to make partner, I have to work. You know damn well our parents are ball busters and do not give any leniency.”

  “I surrender. Go to work, but we will have dinner together on Sunday. No arguments.”

  “Love you, Cian.”

  “Love you, Carrie.”

  Usually, I adore spending time with Cian and his fiancé Aine, who he met last year. She owned a donut shop that was going out of business. She had cheekily named it The Glory Hole. I snickered to myself thinking of it. She was a breath of fresh air to our family. One we so desperately needed.

  Yet, whenever I would see the two of them together, my chest would tighten. I hate admitting it even to myself, but I was envious. I wanted what they have when they looked at each other all lovey-dovey in the eyes.

  Granted, at this moment in my life, I did not have the time to really go out and date. I have my goals on a list that I made during my senior year in high school.

  1. Graduate from Columbia University.

  2. Intern at Lewis, Lewi
s, and Armstrong. (My parent’s Law firm)

  3. Make Partner. (At said firm)

  4. Work for a few years.

  5. Buy a house.

  6. Get married??? Maybe…

  Besides, the last guy I dated was a two-pump chump that I mistakenly gave my virginity to. To add insult to injury, the bastard tried to add his name to my credit card accounts. Asshole! I tried to shake off thoughts of that jerk. No need to make this day even harder.

  My parents’ law office— Lewis, Lewis, and Armstrong— was downtown and, at the moment, I was regretting my choice in footwear considering the parking garage was a few blocks away. Stilettos do not make for happy feet.

  I almost mowed down one of the security guards in my attempt to rush through the lobby. He must have thought of it as a happy accident since his pervy stare didn’t leave my chest. I get it! They are a little larger than average but come on, guy, you can at least try for subtle. With half-assed apologies, I rushed away and as I passed the elevator, I knew that for at least one second, the look on my face was of absolute longing. Instead, I hot-footed it to the stairs. I knew I was going to begrudge every dang step, too.

  Taking the stairs instead of the elevator is so necessary for me right now. I slowly gained twenty pounds over the last four years in school. Since I moved back, I had been getting snide little remarks here and there about my weight from my mother. I have curves. I always have. I am pretty sure they come from my Dad’s side of the family. My mother has always been about as straight as a board and tall. Then again, everyone is tall in comparison to my five-foot-four. Which, by the way, is average height but, in my family, I was a runt in comparison to their five-eights and taller.

  By the time I made it up those stairs, I could feel the burn in my calves and my chest from running up five flights. Rushing over to my desk, I tried to ignore the judgmental look of our receptionist, Bethany. I swear that woman doesn’t like me at all, but I do not have the time to worry about the perpetual resting bitch face she sports in my presence. I was pretty sure I offended her in some way, but in the last two years of her employment here, it has only been since I started here —about six months ago now— that she has been so cold.

  I fell into my chair, dropping my briefcase down at the same time. I slammed into it hard enough to slide across the carpet, which is a feat in itself. I watched all of my items teeter a little and prayed for that split second that I wouldn’t have a mess to clean up also.

  Get it together, Carrie! My inner monologue screamed at me. You cannot afford to be distracted right now. As soon as I said that little mantra to myself, I heard the deep baritone voice of my father coming through the speaker on my phone.

  “Carrie, I need you to file Mr. Whittaker’s claim and get Adrian on the phone to ask why I haven’t received last week’s case file from her yet.”

  I rolled my eyes at the speaker, thinking of how I know he has to hear himself considering he is right across from me. Or maybe I just feel like that since he is my father. He and my mother were due in court today in about half an hour. Seeing them in passing sometimes is the only glimpse I get of them in a few days’ time. These days, it seemed they only really spoke to me when barking out demands and berating my very few bouts of untimeliness. Like today, I just hope I could squeeze on by without them knowing.

  “Yes, Mr. Lewis. Is there anyone else I need to contact?”

  “Mrs. Lewis said she sent you a time-sensitive email. I would suggest that be your first priority.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I push the power button on my computer and while that gets up and running, I try to run through the current tasks my father gave me. Plus a few on my desk that someone cough, Ms. Resting Bitch Face, cough, left for me. I pride myself in my ability to multitask and when I logged into my email, I attempted to file the Whitaker claim. Biggest. Mistake. Ever.

  Because I was scrolling so quickly to find my mother’s email and trying to file when I dropped one single piece a paper, it was enough to shift the mouse and open one of the spam emails with just the smallest amount of pressure on the click.

  I will forever remember the shock and pain of that red screen. At first, I tried to X out of the screen, thinking it was just a gag email to scare me into paying four-hundred dollars in bitcoins. When it wouldn’t X out, I stared at the glossy monitor in fear as I watched a counter tick down. With each tick that passed, I could feel myself getting more and more nauseous.

  And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse. Well, at this point, the All Mighty could hit me with their best shot and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be as bad as the screen I was looking at right now.

  After staring at it for a full five minutes, I decided to call down to the IT department and pray they were going to be able to help me.

  I even threw in an extra prayer that they wouldn’t send Ryan. Sometimes, his attitude reminded me of the one character on Saturday Night Live. The one named Nick who basically berated everyone for not having an advanced degree in computers. With the way my luck was going, I was pretty sure Ryan was who they would send. Unfortunately, the man was gorgeous. To a distracting degree. Speaking of gorgeous, there he was, strolling right through the office. All six feet of him. Figures…

  Chapter 2

  With fantasies like these…

  “So, what is the issue?”

  He was brisk in the question and, I have to say, that at that moment, that was exactly what I wanted. For him to be efficient, fast, and mosey on out of here having solved the problem. I didn’t want to look at his face any longer than I had to. Every encounter with the man always left me confused. When I looked at his hair, I would wonder if it was as silky as it looked, then he would open his mouth and I would want desperately to be able to kick him in the shin.

  I still remember the first time I met him. Pelt I.T. company worked out of this building and the firm used his company for the convenience of having him on site. It was my first week and he was setting up this very same computer for me. When I tried to make very innocent small talk, he shut me down with a quelling look and by saying he needed to focus on his task. He then continued by telling me my parents wouldn’t appreciate spending money on him chit chatting. Talk about hitting the cinder block dick wall, barbed wire included.

  “Um…I accidentally clicked on an email in my hurry and it happened to be a spam one and, well, this popped up.” He looked at me then looked at the screen then looked back at me. I started to squirm. There was something about that look that made me feel like an idiot.

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about this.” He started to go through a list of procedures. It was actually kind of adorable to watch when, with each step, he would sing a little about what he was doing.

  “Close out window. Nope.”

  Like I didn’t try that one. I thought to myself.

  “Task manager. Nope. Force close. Alt- F4. Nope.” It was almost like a catchy little nursery rhyme the way he had moved through it.

  Watching him work, I mistakenly did something unexpectantly naughty.

  I thought about last night. How I had my one hand between my thighs slowly pushing my fingers in and out of myself and the other hand on my clit softly spreading the arousal around in tight circles. Thoughts of Ryan Pelt’s head framed by my thighs. His soft gray eyes looking up at me through the tangle of black lashes that surround those sexy bedroom eyes. His strong hands wrapped around my legs, holding me open wide, and the flat of his tongue slowly lapping at me. Savoring me.

  I shook myself out of the fantasy and realized he must have been talking to me. He must think I am some ditzy blonde. Besides, it is like my secret shame that here this man, who obviously doesn’t care much for me, is the only one to have roused any sensual thoughts in me. I must be a masochist.

  “So…Do you want the bad news or the very bad news?”

  “Give it all to me,” I blurted out and, with the thoughts I had only moments ago still swimming around in my head, the doub
le entendre was so damn apparent but, thankfully, only to me. Or maybe not because he looked at me a little funny. Which was nothing new, but I found myself blushing hard enough to feel the heat almost scalding my cheeks.

  “Okay, this,” he said waving his hand around at the screen, “is what they call ransomware. It is the real thing so either you will have to pay or you will have to wipe your computer. I already know what Mr. and Mrs. Lewis will say. They will want the full wipe, considering malicious software like this has the potential to spread to other computers that use the same network.”

  So, basically, what he was saying was that I may have infected our network. Oh, dear God!

  “Did you backup your files before this happened?” He looked at me expectantly and I had to work hard to remember he was just the bearer of the bad news, not the one who made the mistake of opening that stupid email.

  He asked the question again and all I could do was look at him like an idiot. What backup would I have used? I don’t even have a memory stick. For Pete’s sake, do people still use floppy discs? I fucked up so bad.

  “Fine. Wipe it. I need to walk away. I can’t seem to breathe. Do you mind?” I was curt, which made him aim his analyzing look at me longer than he usually did.

  “That’s fine. I am going to try to do one more procedure to see if that will help, if not, I am going to shut it down and take the computer with me.”

  I walked away and took five minutes to get the coffee I so desperately needed. I found myself wishing for some whiskey to throw into the cup with it. I tried to think of anything positive about the situation and the only thing that came to mind was at least my parents had been due in court and I didn’t have to face them quite yet. I would soon, though.