His daughter called him as he got off the freeway. He fumbled past his wallet for his phone.
"Hi dad. Bree's going to the mall for her birthday and having a sleepover after. You'll be home late anyway. Can I go?"
"Uh," he pulled in to a red light. "Yeah, sure sweetie, remember your toothbrush."
He heard her squealing just before she hung up, and smiled, glad she was back to her old self after the divorce. He'd been hoping for some family time though, but...oh well. He was going home early after a mess with the fire sprinklers and some idiot smoking on the floor below; the office was shut down as techies tried to salvage the electronics. Some personal time was just as good.
He pulled into the curb half a block from his house, scowling at the car parked in front of his driveway. His neighbor was having one of his overly-noisy hi-fi blasting parties again, and the sound of it would penetrate every house on the street. He got out of the car, grimacing at the wet, clinging fabric of his shirt, and tried to ignore the dampness of his socks. The street was deserted.
He reached the front door and found it unlocked. He sighed; Sara must have forgotten to lock it again. He'd have to talk to her when she got back.
He entered and locked the door behind him. Musically indecipherable but rhythmic bass made the walls and floors vibrate slightly. He removed his shoes and socks and tossed the latter into the laundry room.
"Sara?"
He froze at the unfamiliar, female voice. Then he remembered - the babysitter. Something else Sara apparently forgot.
"Sara? Are you ready?"
He turned the corner to step into the living room. The babysitter - Tammy or something - was sitting on the couch, blindfolded, of all things, with one of his ties. She sounded nervous. He wanted to laugh, but didn't. Were images of home invasion entering her head? The thought was strangely appealing.
He walked closer, silently. She was definitely nervous. Her hands slid from the couch to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. He stopped a foot away from her and admired the view. It was a very short skirt, the kind that would fly up if she twirled around.
"S - Sara?" She sounded more and more unsure. He loosened the tie around his neck, finding himself unexpectedly aroused.
"Uh...Ready or not, here I come!" she called out.
She stood up and bumped into his chest. He reacted unthinkingly and caught her hands firmly before she could pull the blindfold off. She whimpered and shied away; he pushed her back until she was forced down on the couch.
"Shhhh," he whispered, leaning in close. His breath was hot at her ear and brushed her neck. She whimpered again and shrank away, and he smirked.
"Then again, it doesn't matter," he told her, gathering her hands into one of his large ones, "I watched the little girl leave a while ago. The neighbors are being very loud. You can hear it. No one will hear you."
He rubbed a thumb lightly across her bottom lip, delighted when her breath caught and started again faster.
"No, please, don't, please," she begged. He considered - if he would stop now. But how many opportunities like this would there be again? None, likely.
"No," he told her. He straddled her and pulled her hands up to pin them above her head. She began gasping and thrashed in his grip; he squeezed her tightly between his thighs. He reached behind her with his free hand and grasped her dark, tumbling hair.
"Behave, sweetie," he growled, pulling her hair so she was forced to expose her neck to him. She began to say something and choked as he nuzzled her soft skin.
"Mmmm," he rumbled, licking the hollow at her collarbone. She jerked involuntarily, and he pulled harder so he could use his teeth.
"N-no," she gasped, just before she whimpered again as he released her hair and rubbed a light hand over her breasts.
