Gratify

by Katelyn Taylor

To anyone who has ever been shamed for loving the age gap trope, they are clearly the problem because this shit is hot.

All it took was one look at me in Thomas Randall’s jersey to have Theo snarling. He stormed up to me and demanded that I take it off.

“I’m sorry, girl. I didn’t know. For what it’s worth, this was the first time, but he’s been chasing after me all year.”

“You’ve been lonely? What about me? I’ve been fucking lonely. Only difference is I chose to remain loyal. Don’t worry though, Theo. You don’t have to feel bad about sneaking around on your girlfriend anymore. You don’t have one.”

“The only shitty thing about you and Theo breaking up is that now that fine piece of man known as his dad won’t be around as much.”

“You’re done. You are going to release Andromeda’s wrist, let her go to her room and then we are going to have a long fucking talk. I sure as hell did not raise a son who puts his hands on a woman when he is anything less than pleasant and I sure as fuck didn’t raise a son that raises his voice with a woman.”

“Don’t look, Nevaeh! Jesus Christ, please, don’t look,” a rough voice sobs. My body begins to shake uncontrollably as I glance up to see Atlas holding me tightly, thick streams of tears racing down his face.

Andromeda needs me. She needs me to be strong, to be her anchor, her protector. I’ll easily push my own pain to the side to take on hers. I’ll do whatever it takes to see her through this. It’s what Emily and Paul would expect of me. I’ll gladly take the burden on my own shoulders. For her. For them.

“I’m really sorry you lost them, Dad.”

The only other person that seems to be hurting the same way I am is Atlas,

Those dark-brown eyes are drenched in sadness and laced with pain. It’s a look that perfectly mirrors the way the inside of me feels.

They were with you today, Nevaeh, and they are so proud. -Atlas

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Andromeda’s godfather. Now, what the fuck are you doing with my goddaughter tossed over your shoulder like a wet towel?”

“I was just taking her home. Girl is drunk off her tits.” “And how about when you smacked her ass when she was ‘drunk off her tits’? Got an explanation for that one or should

I just call the cops for assault...

“How old are you?” he asks. Grady stammers before Atlas yanks me once. “E-eighteen.” “Good,” Atlas says before he winds back his arm and swings, his fist connecting with Grady’s jaw.

“I’m not just your ex-boyfriend’s dad, Nevaeh. I’m your godfather. Eighteen or not, your parents trusted me to watch after you if anything ever happened to them. Something did happen to them. Something fucking horrific and unfair and painful, and now I’m here to

own up to my responsibility and be here for you.”

“Glad to understand the real reason behind all of you...

I’m here because I care about you. I’m worried about you. I’m not going to let you self-destruct.

“Your parents trusted me to watch over and protect you in their place but that isn’t the reason I’m ready and willing to do so. And if you truly think that then you aren’t nearly the intelligent girl that I thought you were.”

I’ve seen Atlas Kane shirtless countless times

in my life, but I’ve never seen him shirtless until right now.

My eyes trail down to his abs two, four, six…is that an eight-pack? I thought that they only existed in Photoshop.

What the hell is wrong with me? He’s like forty. And he’s my godfather! I never fully realized how absolutely ripped my godfather was though…nope.

Atlas turns to see me, surprise flashing across his face.

“What?” His dark eyes blink twice before he shakes his head slightly. “Nothing. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you without your glasses on.”

“I never realized how bright your eyes are behind your glasses.”

“I was going to get your door,” he says flatly.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Atlas. I’m capable of getting my door. Women are doing all sorts of things these days,” I say with a small smirk.

“So, how long have you had the hots for Mr. Kane?”

“What? You’re kidding, right? He’s my godfather! My parents’ best friend.”

“It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me. He’s gorgeous and a really great man. Not to mention the forbidden fruit and all that. Sounds steamy.”

“Gross. He’s like forty. I’m eighteen.” “Age is just a number, hun. Love is love.”

Or maybe I’m just going fucking insane because yesterday when Andromeda took off her coverup by the pool, the first thought that popped into my head was how goddamn sexy she looked. Jesus, I’m going to hell.

The image of her back slightly arching, her barely covering bikini straining at the movement as she settled in to start reading has been etched into the deepest darkest part of my mind. A part that I didn’t know even existed until yesterday. A part where salacious images of my fucking goddaughter play on repeat. “Fucking hell,”

A tight black skirt that stops just above her knees and a sleeveless red blouse that looks professional in theory but clings to her soft curves like a second skin. My jaw clenches in irritation. Is she doing this on purpose? Dressing like this to mess with my head?

Of course I would have to walk out at the exact moment that her perky peach-shaped ass is in the air in that fucking skirt. I feel the blood rush begin to my cock at the sight no matter how much I berate myself to not get turned on at the sight of my goddaughter on her knees in front of me. Son of a fucking bitch.

I reach over to grab my phone, my eyes bugging out of my head when I see that I slept in. I fucking never sleep in, ever. I never had erotic dreams about my goddaughter either, so I guess today is a day full of firsts.

My parents are dead and the one home I’ve ever known no longer feels like it. I’m staying in a house that I’m unwelcome in with someone who can hardly stand to be near me,”

“What are you talking about? You think I can’t stand to be around you?”

“I know you can’t. You’re an asshole to me at work and you

avoid me like the plague at the house. I get it, you opened your doors to be nice and out of some sense of duty to my parents, but you clearly don’t want me here. And I’m honestly sick of feeling so displaced.”

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to stop working here,”

Sometimes I want you around too much.”

“I’m sorry, Nevaeh. I’m sorry that my son treated you with such little respect. I’m sorry that he humiliated you, that he no doubt made you question your own self-worth in that moment and maybe after as well.”

“But know this,” he continues. “It was him, not you. He was the problem, not you. He is the fuck up in this, not you. You are a smart, kind, driven, beautiful woman and any man would be lucky just to have the honor to call you his. My son wasted

his chance with you, and I can promise he will regret it for the rest of his life.”