Page 45 of Father Knows Best (A Family Affair #1)

twenty-six

. . .

sutton

The Cuckold Awakening

Feeling lost is one of the worst ways to feel, alongside not being able to trust yourself, or your mind. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even my worst enemy.

“Where do you go from here?” Jon asks, adding, “Another company maybe?” He laughs but I know he isn’t joking.

Okay, maybe I would wish it on my worst enemy. Because Jon deserves it.

Roberta rolls her eyes as Birdie closes the office door on her way out. “Yeah, Whitmore, you really think he’s going to leave his own company?”

Jon slams his champagne. If he wasn’t in my dad’s office when we returned with the good news, he wouldn’t even be included in the celebration.

I know it’s wrong to hate, and it’s probably a reflection of myself at some point to dislike this man as much as I do but still, I loathe Jon Whitmore. Always have and always will.

“Oh come, Jon,” my dad says, refilling his own flute. “You don’t need Sutt to leave to become the top agent. You just need to get better at selling. And up your frequency.”

Criticizing Jon on his sales is like the Oscar winner telling the other nominees to try harder. Jon, believe it or not, can really turn it on and charm clients. He wouldn’t be at Mercer if he wasn't an excellent salesman.

Jon smooths his hand down his tie. “Remind me, how’d you get that listing anyway, Sutton?”

My dad gets to his feet, opening his suit jacket with one hand. “If you were my son, Jon, I think you’d be an advocate of nepotism, but I’d have given the listing to Sutton either way.”

“Ohh, damn, Geo just roasted your ass, Jon,” Roberta laughs, clapping her hands together, champagne sloshing. It’s true, Jon’s insinuation that I received that listing simply because I’m Geo’s son is bullshit, but I think he’s had so much champagne that my dad’s response doesn’t quite register.

My dad pops his shoulders in his suit, and lifts his glass. “To Sutton, who sold Mercer Properties’ highest listed home to-date.”

Avery, who has been on my arm all afternoon, lifts her glass, clinking it against mine. “To you.”

“To me,” I say, toasting her before kissing the champagne off her lips, and that lost feeling in the back of my mind grows a little fuzzy, and distant for the time being.

We’ve been celebrating since four in the afternoon, and it’s going on ten o’clock at night.

When Mercer makes a sale, we really party.

There’s a lot of stress involved with selling high-end, high-valuated properties, not to mention, the people we deal with are usually quite particular.

Ensuring everyone gets what they want and making sure that every detail is tended to before the papers are signed is my specialty.

I’ve lost a sale in the eleventh hour once when I forgot the buyer said they wanted the front rose bushes removed.

A couple walked away from a house for that, and I learned then that sometimes people are looking for an out, so you can’t give them an opportunity to find one.

Instead, you have to guide them where you want them, and keep everyone and everything on the same page until they realize it’s what they want too.

That’s true for real estate, and I guess my personal life.

I’m all fucked up tonight.

And being drunk has only made that worse.

At first, it made my confused and lost state a little blissful, blurring the edges of my reality just enough to allow me to actually celebrate my sale. But now, several glasses of champagne and a few whiskeys deep, I’m back to utter confusion.

Who am I?

My entire life, I have been Geo Mercer’s son. Someone who will undoubtedly follow in his footsteps and run a good ship where Mercer is concerned. That’s all a given, and I’ve lived up to those hopes thus far, easily.

But aside from that, I’ve been a man who knows what he wants, and equally, what he doesn’t want.

The first thing in my life that I ever really wanted? Avery. And on our wedding night, when I thought I may lose her, I realized that my love for her is truly the most and only important thing in my life. I would have given up everything to keep her and make it work.

When my dad stepped in and offered himself up—it never seemed fucked up. After we repaired our relationship and I learned that my mother Margot was the driving force of matrimonial despair in their story, I reframed him in a whole new light.

In a matter of days, my dad went from someone I despised to the person I respected most—because of the sacrifices he made for his family.

He let me hate him, because he didn’t want my heart to be broken for my mother. He let me treat him like shit, to get my grief and anger out on a tangible source, instead of internalizing that pain by knowing the truth before I was ready.

He sacrificed himself for my happiness.

He showed me that family is more important than anything else, and that night, saying yes to him for her was easy.

Strangely, I felt nothing but relieved when we were able to work something out. And as plans evolved to include him further in our relationship, I felt zero hesitation.

That’s where I’m struggling to understand.

I don’t like when another man looks at Avery too long, or glances at her ass when they hold the door, or lets her go first at four-way-stop.

Yet I have no problem watching my dad and Avery kiss, hug, show each other affection—and I find myself enjoying listening to them.

I like watching her when she pleases him, and while I never watch him or look at what he’s doing to her, still, I enjoy being in the room when they’re together.

I even find it somewhat arousing.

Which baffles me. I still have zero urge or desire to let Avery shove a sounding rod down my penis, or watch her play with what I leave inside of her—those things are still best suited for my dad.

But I’m surprised by how much I enjoy being a part of it all, and how much I enjoy watching her get off with him, while I sit untouched in the corner.

I was so sure of who I was and what I wanted, and now, in the last few weeks, I find myself feeling like I’ll be devastated if my dad meets a woman and doesn’t want to be with Avery anymore. She’s come to adore him and rely on him and I’m fully hooked on being their third wheel many times.

I may be trying to reconcile that I am not as vanilla as I originally thought, because I want him to stay in our relationship.

My dad.

I scrub my hand over my forehead and pour myself another whiskey, and sink into my office chair. I slipped away earlier for a moment alone but now, I want to be anything but.

In fact, all this thinking about Avery and my dad has me leaning forward, dialing the front desk where everyone is currently huddled. Birdie answers.

“Sutton?”

“Put Avery on,” I slur, my words running together.

There’s a rustling on the line, and a moment later, her soft voice makes my chest squeeze. “Sutt? Where’d you go?”

“Come in my office. Dad, too.” I hang up, and finish the whiskey I don’t need. A moment later, in her backless black romper and nude heels, her hair in a sleek ponytail, Avery treads in, my dad behind her, his hand on the small of her back, eyes on her pert ass.

“It’s good, right?” I lift my drink as he quietly closes the office door with one hand, using the other to free the button on his suit coat.

“The whiskey?” Avery questions.

My dad’s eyes come to mine, and I wink to him. “Avery’s ass. I saw you looking. Hell, you can look, you’ve been inside. Looking is harmless.”

My dad sits in the chair in front of my desk, and Avery does the same, sitting opposite him. “You’re drunk.”

I nod. “Yes.”

“That’s rare,” he continues.

I nod again. “Yes.”

“Celebratory?” he questions.

I nod. “Sure.”

He tips his head to the side and studies me in a way that only parents can do, in a way that makes me feel immediately exposed and seen.

I raise my palms and look at Avery, then back at my dad.

None of my feelings are coming out in a drunken word vomit.

I owe both of these people more respect than that.

The complicated stuff can wait for sobriety.

“What else?” my dad continues, seeing past my shit.

“I want Avery to get off. Right now. I need that. I need to see that.” I look at Avery, and find her cheeks flushed, and her nipples hard behind her expensive outfit. I nod to her and look at dad. “She wants it, too.”

My dad looks at my wife, and my insides tighten, because I love them both, in very different ways, yes, but I do love them both.

And whether it’s fucked up or not, I like when he makes her feel good.

“Lock the door,” I say to my father, but Avery is the one who gets up and locks the office door, twisting the pulley on the blinds until they’re closed.

“I want this so much,” I say to them, feeling like it’s the first time I’ve really ever announced a need.

Everything so far has been about Avery, but right now, I want to sit in my leather chair with the skyline as my backdrop and I want to watch my gorgeous young wife have a toe curling orgasm.

“Fuck,” I ground out, placing my palms flat on the desk, my head a little swimmy from the booze.

“Take off your romper and panties, and hold your legs open for him.”

They don’t tell me they aren’t performers, or that this isn’t part of the deal. Instead, my father tosses his tie over his shoulder and falls to a crouch on the floor, leaving enough room for Avery to sit in the chair after she undresses.

Her romper pools to her feet, and she’s about to kick off her heels when I shake my head.

“Leave the heels on.” My dad smirks at me, and her cheeks flush as she steps out of her thong, dad helping her.

Avery stands between us, completely naked but for her nude heels, her svelte body making my mouth go dry and my cock get hard.