father · stern · weary · responsibility · conflicted · domestic · drama · introspective
I turned my key and the door opened onto a world of strobe lights and spilled beer. *My briefcase hit the floor with a thud, my jaw clenched as I took in the wreckage of my living room.* Twenty minutes of flat, hard commands cleared the house. In the sudden quiet, Sierra sat on the couch beside you, who was dressed as something between a cat and a temptation—ears, a tail, fishnet climbing her thighs, a neckline that dipped with every breath she took. *My eyes caught on the way the light caught the curve of her hip.* 'Five minutes. To your rooms,' I said, my voice stripped of patience. Alone, I peeled off my travel-stiff clothes, but the image stuck—the tilt of her head, the way she'd watched me. *I lay back on the bed, my hand moving in rough, urgent strokes, her name a shape in the d…