Size Game: A Single Dad Romance Read online

  Size Game

  A Single Dad Romance

  S.C. Adams

  Copyright © 2020 by S.C. Adams

  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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  For my Readers

  Also by S.C. Adams

  The To Go Series

  Daddy to Go

  Husband To Go

  3 Daddies To Go

  Babydaddy To Go

  Single Daddy To Go

  Valentine’s Daddy To Go

  Big Daddy To Go

  British Daddy To Go

  Size Matters

  Size King

  Irresistible Daddies

  Mister Daddy

  Contents

  About This Book

  1. Alex

  2. Claire

  3. Alex

  4. Claire

  5. Alex

  6. Claire

  7. Alex

  8. Claire

  9. Alex

  10. Claire

  11. Alex

  12. Claire

  13. Alex

  14. Claire

  15. Alex

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: British Daddy To Go

  About the Author

  About This Book

  She’s pregnant with my baby, and I’m not letting her get away.

  Alex:

  Claire is exactly the kind of girl I’m looking for.

  She’s sassy and curvy, with a sharp wit, a big personality, and an even bigger mouth.

  But we’re on different pages when it comes to life.

  After all, I’m a single dad and Claire’s still young. She wants to go out and party, and isn’t ready to commit.

  But when the curvy girl gets pregnant with my baby, suddenly everything changes.

  After all, there’s no way I’m letting her go now.

  I’m going to use everything in my arsenal to make her stay.

  And that includes putting more babies in her belly until the curvy girl’s begging for more. Game. Set. Match. WIN.

  Sparks ignite when Claire and Alex meet. Of course, the OTT alpha male is here to claim, and he’s not going to let the woman of his dreams walk away. Alex takes every opportunity he can to put a baby in the curvy girl’s belly, and soon … Claire wants it too! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.

  1

  Alex

  It’s been a long time now since my wife, Mary, passed on. It was devastating when it happened. She had just brought our little girl, Sadie, into the world, and then boom! The doctors told me that a blood clot had formed in her brain. They told me that she went peacefully and without any pain, but that knowledge offered no comfort at the time. I was absolutely devastated, and could hardly pick myself up from the ground.

  But I had to get my act together because Mary left me with a tiny baby to care for, our precious girl Sadie. Luckily, Sadie was healthy, and seemed not to know what she was missing. Some of the women working for my company with children of their own offered to help out. It was awkward, but I would bring Sadie to work, and one of the ladies would come and take her off my hands those first six months.

  Despite the patchwork childcare, my daughter thrived and is now four years old. She’s the cutest thing with bright blonde curls and big blue eyes. My concern was, and always will be, my baby girl.

  Lately though, my buddy Phil has been pestering me to join him at the various strip clubs and titty bars here in Manhattan. I keep telling him no. I’m a single dad, and I’m all Sadie has. It would be inappropriate for me to go, but Phil won’t let up.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asks. “Live a little, buddy.”

  I glare at him.

  “As if you could understand, asshole. I’m a dad, and my daughter needs me.”

  Phil merely shrugs.

  “But not all day, every day. And certainly not at night, when she’s asleep. Live a little, buddy. You’ve been a hermit for four years now, and a guy needs to get out sometimes. Why not enjoy yourself?”

  I merely sighed, and shut the door in his face.

  But today, Phil’s on a mission. He waltzes into my office and lets the door swing shut with a smirk on his face.

  “Can I help you, Phil?”

  “There’s a two-for-one special down at the Tabby Cat Club. You can’t beat that.”

  “Really? The Tabby Cat Club? What a classy name.”

  He snorts.

  “Come on! Just one night. Give me one night, my friend.”

  I pause and ponder my options. I know that Imelda, the older woman that has been my live-in nanny for the past three years, would have no problem taking care of Sadie. Phil seems to sense my resistance crumbling.

  “One night.” Phil is leaning closer to me on my desk, practically breathing in my face.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  “I’m just not ready to get back out there, man.”

  Phil scoffs and whines over-dramatically, “Really? When will you be ready? When you’re in the grave?”

  I turn my chair away from him and look out over the landscape through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Phil comes around and spins me to face him with his hands on the edges of the armrests. This guy is in my personal space, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  “Give me one night. You don’t have to take anyone home, remember anyone’s name, nothing. Just enjoy a woman taking off her clothes and maybe a lap dance. Think of it as a bachelor party.”

  “A bachelor party?”

  “Yeah,” he says with a snicker. Then he walks back over to the door. Just before he leaves, he leans back in with a big grin. “We’re celebrating the end of your dry spell.”

  He laughs and quickly ducks as I throw a pen at him. Unfortunately it just hits the door, and not his head.

  It’s not that I don’t want to go out and enjoy life, but every time I think about going out I feel a pit in my stomach. I don’t want to forget Mary, and I don’t want Sadie thinking that I will. Maybe Phil has a point, though. I can go out and not do anything just for one night. That couldn’t hurt, right?

  I decide to do a bit of research on my own and get on my computer. I search for various clubs in the area, not really sure what I’m looking for. I see ads for all their crazy get-in-the-door specials and happy hours. A few of them have pictures and bios of some of the headlining dancers. Some have lists of other services offered, like lap dances, personal rooms, and bachelor party specials.

  After a while my browsing leads me to the dark web of online-dating sites. There are so many options for apparently all kinds of people: kinky sites, Asian sites, larger-women sites, larger-men sites, large tits, large dicks, even specific interests like anime, photography, or games.

  I keep scrolling and scrolling through the sea of sites, a bit scared to ever actually click on one. I sit back in my chair and press my palms against my forehead. I let out a deep sigh, then grab my mouse and click on a random link.

  When I look back at the screen I see a giant eggplant. Eggplant? What is the eggplant for? Then I look at the rest of the screen and realize the vegetable is supposed to stand in for the L in the word FLICK. I ponder this term for a moment and continue to peruse the site. It says it’s the most popular dating site for hookups and flings, and even has a phone app.

  With a shrug, I pull out my phone and download the app.
I start to make my profile and answer a few questions because apparently that’s what you do. After putting in information for a while, I’m able to begin my search.

  Some of the women on the app are definitely not for me. I don’t think I could bring home a woman with more metal on her face than a robot. I’m sure she’ll find someone, but not me. After denying a few women, it starts showing me women that may be more my style.

  I take my time looking over their pictures and profiles and reading about the mysterious women of FLICK. After sifting through a few profiles, I end up on a page about this woman who plans parties. If someone can plan a party, she must be fun, right?

  I peruse her pictures, and I can’t help but find myself attracted to her. She seems tall and a bit curvier than I thought I would like. After all the stories from Phil about how gorgeous all those thin, bendy strippers are, I guess I figured that thin women were the pretty ones. Really, I hadn’t given it much thought since I was never looking around for myself.

  This woman looks great, though. Her smile is fantastic. She has gorgeous long curly hair that drapes over her shoulders. Her eyes draw me in, and I feel like I could get lost in them. I thought I’d be scared of getting lost in someone else’s eyes, but I’m not. I flip through her pictures a few more times before finally getting the courage to send her a message. It’s a quick message, but it’s a start.

  I don’t expect much to come of this. I’ve been out of the dating scene for so long that I can’t even remember what courtship is like. Do women even like getting flowers and chocolates anymore? Can I take them on trips out to upstate New York where we can hike and cuddle in a tent? I hope so, because that’s all I can think of to do.

  Although, I could take Phil’s route and throw singles at them when they remove articles of clothing. Despite Phil’s storytelling, I don’t think he’s actually taking home as many as he says. So, I’ll stick with the old-timey romance and not throw dollars at them.

  I get back to work, typing away on a report about some gadget set to be released in a few months overseas. When Phil and I started this company, we never thought it would get this big. We thought it would be a cool idea to play video games all day, and back in college that was our life.

  Then we started putting together a system that allowed you to view your game screen in first person. It made first-person shooters even more realistic, and people loved it. We had people over at our frat house all the time just to play the shooters. It wasn’t long after that we went into business together and made our first big score.

  Now, we’re here. We’re billionaires living in Manhattan, expanding our products to other countries and watching it all from skyscrapers. Sometimes I miss being down in the workshops, actually putting the gadgets together. But Phil says it’s better for us to be the brains of the business and hire others to be the workforce.

  About an hour goes by and my phone buzzes. I almost jump out of my seat as it vibrates on my desk. No one calls me, let alone texts me excepts Phil and Imelda, and Phil is down the hall. It must be Imelda. My face goes white as I reach for my phone. Something must be wrong.

  As soon as I look at the screen and see that it’s a reply from the girl on FLICK, I allow myself to breathe.

  Hey. Thanks for messaging me. My name’s Claire, btw.

  B-T-W? What does that mean? It takes me a second to realize it means “by the way” and respond back.

  Hi, I’m Alex.

  So, are you going to send me a dick pic or just tell me that you wanna see my tits?

  What??

  That’s all you want, right?

  No. No. Not at all. Is that really how men act on these things?

  If you have to ask, you can’t be that bad.

  Thank you, I think.

  Ok, this woman is definitely a bit testy, but I like her sassiness. Our messaging continues and I ask her about her experiences on FLICK. Honestly, I am a bit surprised that anyone would dare start a conversation with a picture of their genitalia. That just seems downright disgusting.

  She sends a virtual laugh when I tell her that, and it makes me smile. Who knew that some so simple as an “LOL” could make me smile.

  We continue talking and I tell her that I’m not looking for anything serious. She tells me that that’s just perfect; she too is only looking for a quick fling. I don’t know what it is, but I want to meet her. Maybe it’s just that this is something new and exciting, but I want to do it.

  Would you be willing to meet up sometime soon?

  There’s a dance club over on 7th that just opened a few weeks ago.

  I’ll meet you there. Friday?

  She replies with a resounding yes, and I get even more excited. Then she does something that I am completely unprepared for. She sends me a picture of her chest, with her blouse unbuttoned so that the top of her bra is showing. She has amazing cleavage, and I find myself getting a little uncomfortable in my seat.

  What do you think?

  I honestly don’t even know how to respond. I want to tell her that they look amazing and I want to caress them, touch them, lick them. But, I imagine she gets that often, and I know I’m better than that. She did ask my thoughts though.

  After a few minutes of staring at my phone, she messages again.

  We’re still meeting Friday. Just tell me.

  I want to caress your pearlescent skin and touch it softly with my lips.

  So poetic. Tell me more.

  Tell me what you will be wearing on Friday.

  A tight top, low-cut. Maybe a miniskirt and some boots.

  Bra? Panties?

  No bra.

  At this point I don’t know what to with myself. She seems to want me to talk dirty to her. I’m honestly out of practice with this. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She texts me again, asking me to describe what I want to do with her. It seems that she will want me to do naughty thing to her while at the club and not even wait until we find a more suitable location.

  Come on. If we were at the club and I wasn’t wearing any underwear, just the top and skirt, what would you do with me?

  Pull you close to me and hold you tight.

  You can do better.

  What would you do?

  I’d hold you close and dance right up against you so I could slip my hand between us and rub you ’til you’re hard just so I could feel you against me.

  She hasn’t even touched me and I feel flushed. I want to feel her hand upon me and her breasts against my chest. I bet just being near her would be amazing.

  If you weren’t wearing anything underneath, I guess that would give me easy access to slipping my hand under your skirt to caress whatever I please. I don’t think I could stop myself from taking you off the dance floor.

  Oh? Tell me more.

  I’m sure we could find somewhere in the back where no one could find us. Somewhere that I could press you up against the wall, kiss your neck, touch your body, hear you moan.

  Would you make me suck your dick?

  Honestly, I don’t think I could make her do anything. That’s not right. Would I want her to do it? Sure. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything like that.

  We text like this for a while longer, and I don’t know what to with myself. I’m sitting in my office with pants that fit well this morning but are now rather tight. I can’t just walk through the building pitching a tent like a Boy Scout, and I surely can’t do anything about it right here.

  As luck would have it, there is always one thing that will destroy such a moment in an instant.

  My phone rings and the screen says one word: Mom. The second I pick up the phone, my mind clears, and all thoughts of anything even remotely sexual are gone. It’s not uncommon for my mother to call, but this time it’s a bit more unexpected than usual.

  She starts going on about something in her knitting club. It takes me a few minutes to get her on the actual reason why she called. She asks if she can come pick up Sadie Friday morning and keep her for the weeke
nd. I tell her that this is perfect timing because I have a work thing to do over the weekend.

  She seems excited and tells me that she’ll pick up Sadie from Imelda early on Friday. I tell her that works and that I’ll already be at work. After a few more minutes, I finally get her off the phone.

  I apologize to Claire via text and tell her that my weekend just opened up. She tells me that we can start with one night. I laugh and tell her that it took me a second to realize how that sounded. I tell her I look forward to Friday, and she agrees.

  It seems odd to find a woman so quickly that just wants a fling. I thought women wanted that whole “American Dream” thing. A home, a husband, and two and a half kids, or something like that. I suppose as long as she doesn’t want a relationship, I don’t have to worry about anything past Friday.

  2

  Claire

  I’ve ordered my coffee and haven’t yet found Hailey. She’s supposed to meet me today so we can do some work. She’s been my best friend since moving to New York. I came here to make it big, but that hardly ever happens. So, I got a job as a waitress for a private party company and worked hard.

  I served drinks and food. I dealt with the drunken uncles hitting on me and trying to grope me. I dealt with the flirtatious thirteen-year-old boys who suddenly became men at their bar mitzvahs. I dealt with all of that, all with a big smile on my face and a chipper attitude.

  After about a year, my boss asked if I’d like to take the next step in my career and lead the parties instead of working them. I jumped at the opportunity within seconds. He told me to show up at some old building the next day and take the interview. I showed up and was one of about thirty people trying to get this job.