Big Daddy

Chapter 12

chapter twelve

quincey

Davis Pen is really on my fucking nerves today. And he hasn’t done anything outside of his usual, but for whatever reason, the way he’s sifting his hand through his greasy hair has me unusually irritable.

Kennedy is making coffee while Pen stands adjacent, likely annoying the shit out of her. For as much heat as I take for being a prick, I’d prefer a prick to a nuisance. And the side eye that Ken is currently casting to Davis tells me she feels the same. She even flashes me a few bailout glances.

Pen is one of those guys who never takes the hint. In a social setting, he makes women side step past him and avert their eyes. In the courtroom, his persistence usually equates to getting the win. He’s relentless without even really realizing it, and that’s why he’s a good law partner.

But a person to hang out with or simply be around? No fucking thanks.

“Morning,” I greet, making my presence in the back of the break room known as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Oh, Mr. Parker, hello. I went ahead and canceled the interviews this morning, per your request,” Ken says, smiling, using me as a device to edge away from Pen. He must really be annoying her if she’s using me as her life raft—I’m positive Ken detests me.

“Thank you,” I reply with a curt nod, just in time for Pen to cross the space and slap his hand on my shoulder.

“You can’t have my girl and you can’t exhaust Ken,” he says, shaking his head. Ken casually makes a move for the door. “Hey, I was telling you about that time in law school,” he says, attempting to slide the hook in before it’s too late.

“Another time,” she says, bowing out of the space, leaving only one bottle of water in my hands between the two of us.

“I have someone. She’s starting today.” More than anything, all I want at this moment is for Pen to lose interest and not ask questions.

One blonde brow shoots to his hairline. “She came from the service?”

I shake my head as I twist the small cap off the bottle, bringing it to my lips.

“Who is she, then?” he asks, looking way too fucking interested for my personal comfort.

“A friend of my daughter’s.” I screw the cap back on after a sip, narrowing my gaze to be so sharp that Davis actually draws in a breath under my stare. “Off fucking limits.”

He lifts his hands, showing me his palms as if he’s not a threat. He isn’t a threat, but he can be a creep, and I don’t want any of that shit around Winnie.

“As off limits as my own daughter,” I elaborate, because I want him to get it. If I so much as see him cast his crooked smile at Winnie, I’ll cut his fucking head off. Roman Empire style.

Well, maybe I won’t go straight to decapitation. But imagining it makes me feel that angry.

“Fine,” Pen agrees, moving past me toward the coffee pot. Likely the reason he came into the breakroom before he spotted Ken to annoy.

I filter out and find my way to my office, closing the door behind me. Would it be too much to pull the secretary’s station into my office? Have her work in the same room as me? Yes, probably so. And the rest of the office would talk about it, and therefore, her, too.

I scratch the side of my jaw, then yawn loudly, eyes watering. I’m so tired. And yet, even as sleepy and exhausted as I am from tossing and turning all night, adrenaline keeps me up and going—knowing I’m going to see her.

There’s a soft knock at the door which gets me to my feet, sliding my hands in my trouser pockets as Kennedy steps inside, Winnie on her heels.

“Mr. Parker,” she starts, “here is your?—”

Winnie pushes past Ken, bumping Ken’s hip with hers as she does. “Oh, it’s not that serious. He’s not that serious.” She smiles at me then looks back at Ken. “The stiffer you are when you come in, the more of an asshole he becomes.”

“Winnie,” I caution before leveling her with a glare.

She lifts her palms, not unlike Pen earlier. “Sorry, okay, I’ll be an office robot now.”

I nod curtly at Ken. “Thank you for bringing her in. Is her desk set up?”

She looks between myself and Winnie nervously before nodding. “Yes, it’s ready for Ms. Collins.”

Another nod and Ken closes the door behind her, leaving me with Winnie. I steal a long moment to take her in, not hiding a single second of it. I fingered her ass for Christ’s sake, I think she’s fully aware of how much I fucking want her.

“First, you look fucking beautiful,” I tell her, stroking my hand down my jaw since it’s the only thing I can stroke. Her curly dark hair is up in her typical messy bun, but the loose tendrils that dare to do their own thing make the bun sexy. Her lips are painted a deep red, her eyes wing lined again with thick lashes of onyx. Wearing a black pencil skirt and black and white low-heeled Mary Janes, a white blouse and a simple gold necklace, she looks like the secretary of every man’s fantasies.

This actually could have been a terrible idea. This is my business. I can’t be preoccupied by a beautiful young woman all day.

Then again, knowing she’s living in a house with young, virile men who have nothing but time to fuck and do crunches? Keeping her at my side as much during the day feels logical. A must, even.

“Thank you,” she says, sliding into a chair across from my desk. The same one she sat in last time she was here, tossing cash on my desk and telling me about her feet venture. I take a seat at my desk and enjoy the tightness in my ribs as we drink each other in with our eyes. Her lips quirk up at the ends, a slight smile that has my balls aching.

“Second,” I start, because even though I’d love nothing more than to push everything off this desk, get Winnie on her hands and knees on top and eat her out from behind while she cries my name. Still, this is my place of work. Outwardly, it must stay professional. “You can’t call me an asshole, or advise Kennedy on how to… I don’t know, manipulate me.”

Winnie’s grin expands into a full-blown smile. “Can you be manipulated?”

I shake my head staunchly. “No.” I glance at the framed photo on my desk then over at my daughter’s best friend. “Yes. But the list of people who I allow to do so is very small.”

“B?” she asks, the other question silently hanging off the cliff of unspoken things. She wants to know if she’s included on the list of people who can manipulate me.

I nod. “Brielle, yes.”

She nods too, nibbling the crimson from her bottom lip, leaving a little colorless spot. I stare her down, and after a moment, she finally lets out a sigh followed by the world’s biggest eye roll. “God, Big Daddy, you can be so annoying.” She leans over the desk, her white blouse separating from her chest, leaving me with an eyeful of cleavage. I steal a glance, because irrationally and illogically, those tits are mine.

“You know I have you by your balls, why do you make me say it?” she whispers, her voice smokey and raspy, seductively crawling up my pant leg until it finds my cock. Hard and achy beneath my desk, I groan as I lean over and nip her lips.

She sits back. “You can’t kiss me at work, Big Daddy.”

“You can’t call me Big Daddy at work.”

She sighs. “Fine, Large Father .”

I narrow my eyes at her, glaring as my cock grows fatter and happier than he’s been in hours. “Mr. Parker.”

She stomps her heeled foot, making her tits jiggle. Saliva pools in my bottom lip. I want to rip that white blouse off and suck those perfect, luscious tits more than I want this law firm, I swear to God. “That’s boring.”

“Did you just stomp your foot?” I ask her, pushing back from the desk to stack my feet on top. Her eyes move to my crotch, now visible. She studies the massive tented bulge before her eyes come to mine, playfulness shining in her pupils.

“Excuse me, Mr. Parker, but what is that?” she points at my crotch while using her free hand to drape over her collarbone, clutching invisible pearls. Using a smaller, quiet voice, one that mimics an adult movie star, she adds, “And does it go inside me if I work really hard? Is that big, hard cock my bonus?”

I’m out of my chair and pulling her from hers in what feels like a split second. With my palm splayed against her throat, her back crushing stacks of files on my desk, I press into her, leaning over her. Her whimpered exhale dusts my lips as I stare down into her wide, hungry eyes.

“Don’t play with me, Winnie. You hear me? You wanna leave your first day with my cum dripping down your thighs, keeping talking that way.”

She reaches between us, her knuckles grazing my cock as she lifts her pencil skirt, exposing her purple panties. “I wore panties, just like you said, Big Daddy. Maybe you can come in those and I’ll wear them all day, nice and warm, nice and full .”

Fireworks rocket off in my brain. My vision temporarily blurs as I stare down at the strip of purple fabric hiding her soft, sweet cunt. She writhes and wiggles beneath me, against my desk, spreading her legs wider as she curves a hand around the back of my neck. I release my grip on her throat and reach between her legs, swiping the damp fabric aside.

Plunging two fingers in, her spine straightens reactively, adjusting to the immediate intrusion as her eyes grow heavy and hooded. “I’ve been here less than ten minutes and you’re already finger fucking me, Big Daddy.” She licks her lips, her fingers playing at the ends of my hair, making gooseflesh spread down my spine. “Oops, I mean, Mr. Parker .”

The way she draws out mister has my cock spitting out precum, soaking my boxer briefs. If I keep this up, I’ll need the spare suit in my office armoire.

I don’t even care.

“The door isn’t locked,” she says, smirking, her tone smoky and seductive. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

Curling my fingers, I take pleasure watching her eyes flutter closed, if only for a fleeting moment. My thumb falls perfectly against her clit, sticky and swollen. Making small, slow circles, I keep my fingers tucked inside her, moving, plunging gently in and pulling slowly out.

The intercom on my phone pings, and Kennedy’s voice fills the office. “Mr. Parker, your daughter is on line one.”

I reach past Winnie’s head to click the intercom, still fingering and rubbing her as I do. She bites my arm as I reach. “One minute.”

I look down at a moaning, needy Winnie, the smart mouthed brat who is now a pliable, horny mess. For me. “Finish me before you take the call,” she begs quietly lifting her hips to seek more of my hand.

I keep fucking her, grinding my cock against her thigh to make her moan. “God, I can’t wait to feel that thing inside me,” she breathes, clutching at old law briefs, grabbing at the desk as I increase the speed between her legs, working her over.

“Oh shit,” she breathes, lifting her head to peer down at the sight, my thick fingers curling and delving, rubbing and fucking. “I’m close, Big Daddy, fuck, I’m so close.”

With that warning, I withdraw my hand and crush my mouth to hers, eating up every single whimpered complaint. Standing, I reach for her and lift her to a sitting position. She watches me intently, eyes narrowed in horny aggression as I suck her juices from my fingers, then adjust my raging erection.

“That’s fucked up.”

“So is living with a bunch of men.”

She slips off the desk, not bothering to pick up the papers that scatter to the floor. “That’s not cool, Big Daddy. You’re withholding my orgasm because I won’t live with you?”

I adjust my tie, then take a sip of the water I brought in with me.

Winnie stomps her foot. “Hello?”

From my periphery, I eye her. “Hi.”

“Don’t ignore me,” she whines.

“Don’t throw a tantrum,” I tell her, perfecting the silk knot at my throat before slipping my suit jacket back on. “You’re gonna break those heels at the rate you’re going.”

“Fuck the heels,” she retorts, tucking a loose curl back into her bun. God, I’d love to have those curls in my fist, those slim hips splayed out in front of me, that full ass backed up into my cock.

Winnie has officially turned me into a fucking horn dog.

Before I went to Brielle’s apartment the other day, my sexual needs were satisfied by sex from a one-night-stand every few weeks, or a nice stroke in my private sauna from time to time. Never before was I driven to madness by a woman, simply because my body and heart need her so badly.

This little brat is far more than an obsession. I can see that now.

I point toward the door. “Your desk is out there. Transfer clients, send potential clients to lines three, four and five. In the meantime, I’ve had Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator installed on the computer at your desk. I’ve also had a drawing tablet placed there as well as a higher resolution screen brought in. While you’re not taking calls, you’re working on your graphic design project for your graduate degree.”

She blinks at me, mouth open. “How did you know about my final project?”

I tip my head to the side, giving her a sliver of a grin. “Big Daddy knows all.”

She smirks, and my already aching cock throbs between my thighs. “You just called yourself Big Daddy.”

I shrug. “If the massive jock strap fits.”

Winnie smiles. “Did you call the college the same way you called the film department when Brielle was assigned to Augustus?”

With a wink, I shrug. “I wanted to know what you need so I could give you what you need.”

I’ve never been so aware of my hard cock and full balls before.

She smiles. “Thank you, Big Daddy.” Nodding toward the phone, she puts on a smile, hampered by a sadness she tries to hide. “Now talk to my best friend.” I thoroughly enjoy the sway of her hips and ass as she unfortunately leaves my office.

“Hi, Dad,” Brielle says when I call her back. She didn’t wait on the line—she hung up.

“Hello, Brielle. How are you doing?” I ask, staring at the closed office door, imagining Winnie on the other side. I shake my head, hoping to temporarily shake free of her. She claws and clings to my every thought, and even talking to my daughter, I can’t seem to shake her.

“Busy. Very busy. The apprenticeship is going really well, actually, so I think it’s a good thing we weren’t able to get me placed somewhere else.”

Brielle has attended UCSF for her undergraduate and graduate degrees. Donations to the board, sponsoring fundraisers, being the only fundraiser—you name it and I’ve done it, all in the name of getting my daughter the very best education. Her mother would have wanted that, and I want that, too.

But recently she was assigned to a porn production company, and all the foot stomping in the world wouldn’t change the outcome. I should be glad to know she’s enjoying it. And truthfully, I am. I’m just a creature of habit, deeply rooted in my ways.

“For what I pay—” I start, but stop myself. Winnie’s words flash through my mind. You’re an asshole, Big Daddy . She called me that over the phone, and she was right. It’s not like I haven’t known. “Never mind. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Are you learning?”

Brielle stutters over her words before finally saying, “Yeah, Dad, I’m really liking it.”

“Good. I am happy to hear that,” I say, I think trying those words out for the first time ever.

“I was thinking we could have dinner tonight?” she offers.

I had no plans with Winnie, nothing we discussed. I had no plans other than to work late, go home, keep working, drink scotch, eat a prepared meal, then crash. My usual. Still, I wish that Winnie were going.

I lick my lips, taking a moment before I say, “That would be great. Dinner would be great.”

“Really?” Brielle questions, her elevated tone wrapping me in guilt. “Okay, well, I was thinking about the Greek place near Rise & Grind.”

“Great.” I look at the tiny wet spot on the edge of my desk left behind by Winnie. “Do you want to invite anyone?”

Brielle falls silent. I can’t mention Winnie by name because that would be exceptionally weird, and a reach beyond anything reasonable.

“I’m not inviting my bosses, Dad. You’ll meet them at the show at the end of the year.”

“Fine,” I say, without clarification, without pressing it. If I can’t bring it up organically, it’s too risky. “I’ll meet you there. What time? 7?”

She harrumphs. “We aren’t done on set till 8. Is half past eight too late?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Perfect. See you then.”

I end the call and find myself staring at the phone. That was the best phone call we’ve had in years. Maybe ever. At least since she’s been an adult.

A dinner with my daughter later, and Winnie within viewing distance all day, the taste of her pussy still burned onto my tongue. What a fucking day.