Big Daddy

Chapter 23

chapter twenty-three

winnie

“Corinne?” His voice is smooth. I love the way he sounds before bed, raspy and raw. But who the fuck is Corinne? I narrow my eyes at the back of his head, my lips curled over my teeth. Who is Corinne and why is she calling after ten? That’s late in my book.

Plus, we just got home.

Fuck.

I still can’t believe this mansion is somehow my home now but… damn. I snatch the lube from the drawer and toss it onto the bed, knowing we’ll use it, whatever we’re going to do. Sinking into the mattress, I lift my bare feet to Big Daddy’s crotch, smoothing my arches over the hard ridge of his cock. Of course he’s hard. When is he not hard? And god, that’s hot.

I really never thought I’d be obsessed with any man’s cock, or that I’d get wet the moment I knew he was hard, because I didn’t think a physically passionate relationship like that even existed. But knowing he’s been hard in the car on the drive home, knowing he wants my feet on his dick and his cum in my belly, it turns me absolutely feral.

Educated, strong, with a smart mouth that cuts men down at the knees and here I am, whimpering and pouting because he’s on the phone with Corinne when his cock should be sliding between my feet.

Honestly.

“Big Daddy…” I sulk, sticking out my bottom lip as he tips his hips forward, leaning into the hot glide of my feet over his dick.

He holds a warning finger out as he stares me down, speaking still to Corinne.

“That’s no problem,” he says, a female voice barely audible from the other end. That’s no problem ? In the months I’ve worked at Parker & Pen, the words “that’s no problem” have never left Quincey’s mouth. Now I really want to know who he’s talking to.

“I appreciate the call back. I’ll go ahead and send the pertinent information out to you tomorrow then,” he says, nodding to her before saying goodbye and ending the call. I curl my toes into his belt and tug, pressing the waist of his pants into his hard cock, making his nostrils flare.

“You have no patience,” he tells me, not moving my feet but working around them as he makes for his belt. “That was a work call and you were being bratty, distracting me.”

I roll onto my knees and give him my back, looking at him over my shoulder. “Unzip me.” The way he abandons his belt for my dress gives me a thrill. “And you were about to fuck my feet but took a phone call.” The dress pools around me and I roll around on the bed until I can kick it free, coming to face him completely naked on my knees. “She must be important,” I pout, rubbing my hands over my bare breasts, making a point of my nipples by rolling them between my thumb and forefinger. “Or maybe you just like her more than me,” I tease, blinking up at his face, reddened with anger.

Big Daddy’s hand loops my neck, thwarting my pulse, lifting me from the bed as his other hand grips one of my tits. “Nothing is more important than you, my little slut.”

He releases me, a rush of adrenaline puffing up inside me, causing me to gasp as I fall back against the mattress. His belt hits the floor and then his cock is out, every veiny inch on delicious display.

“Be my foot slut. Show me how you teased them. Show me what they wished they could have,” he urges, his voice smokey and rough.

I love this man’s filthy, unhinged mouth. Another thing that surprises me about falling in love—I love being degraded. I love the idea of being his filthy slut, his dirty whore, his disgusting little cum bucket.

Only this man brings that out of me, I swear.

“You like my feet on your cock?” I ask, falling onto my back to comfortably bring my feet to his groin. He wraps his rough hands around my ankles, eyes tamped down on the way his veiny red cock slips between the velvety arches of my feet.

“Mmmm,” he groans, completely entranced by the sight. “Tell me how you got them off,” he requests, his eyes skirting over my nude body as his tongue slides along his bottom lip. When his eyes come to mine, they’re hooded and dark, brimming with desires.

I pump his cock, using the tip of my big toe to slide over the slit on his head. He jerks, his spine going wobbly for a moment as he hisses, “ fuuuck .”

“I’d show them my feet in fancy heels, like the ones I wore tonight,” I tell him, moving the ball of one foot to his swollen sack, kneading it with more force than most men like. Big Daddy twitches, adjusting, letting a wild groan slip free as my other foot slides up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles, his eyes moving now between my feet working his package and my eyes, fastidiously focused on him.

“I’d talk them through an orgasm, focusing mostly on the way each pearly drop of their cum would look glistening against the patent leather of my fancy shoes,” I tell him, swiping the arch of my foot over his head, precum appearing a moment later. The thick veins running up his shaft are swollen and purple, and the ring of his crown is so red it looks painful.

He reaches down, taking his cock by the base, feeding his head between the arches of my feet before bringing his hands back to my ankles. “No balls, baby. You’ll make me come.”

I smirk as I watch Big Daddy thrust, sweat glistening on his forehead as he groans into my feet. “Sometimes,” I tell him, trying my best not to be affected by his sexy groans and masculine moans as he plunges his massive erection in and out of my feet. We don’t need lube because he’s a fountain of precum, and I’m so wet because of it. Because of him.

“I start sessions without heels, without nylons, without anything on my feet. But I bring in items, like food, and smear it all over, then fuck a dildo with my feet and make them imagine its my whipped cream coated feet sliding up their cock.”

Big Daddy curses, his grip on my ankles so tight that my feet nearly go numb. Ignoring his wishes, I press the ball of my feet into his sack again, my pussy weeping at the fullness of him, at how much cum he holds inside of them to fill me with, to spray over my skin, to shoot down my throat, to coat my lips—his huge balls make me drunk with desire, I swear. The idea of owning and emptying those for the rest of my life? As much as I want to edge him, I suddenly need his cum and I need it now.

“If our sessions had been in person, I’d have teased them to the point of dripping, then I’d have let them sink inside me and fill me up,” I tell him, pressing my toes into his shaft, following the curve of one thrumming vein from root to tip. “Because as much as they want to see their cum streaking my feet, more than that, they all want to come deep inside me so that they can watch it bubble out of my shaved little cunt. That they can see the way they bred me. Take a photo of it even.”

A bead of sweat slides down his temple as one hand moves to his shirt, working seamlessly down the column of buttons. A moment later, he’s shirtless, his slacks banded around his thighs like a horny teenager who couldn’t wait. His hair is mussed, strands of silvering dark falling over his forehead as he sucks his lip under his teeth, grappling with self-control.

“You little slut, you’re begging for a cream pie, aren’t you?” he laughs humorlessly as his eyes come to mine. He winks, and my stomach clenches, and I’m suddenly aware of how empty I am. My lower half throbs and pulses, arousal leaking from me in a thick stream, my thighs uncomfortably sticky.

I tuck my chin to my chest and bring my hands to my breasts, squeezing them as I focus on his fat cock being demolished by my bare feet. “Yes, Big Daddy, I am. Will you fuck me? Will you give me what my fans couldn’t?” I lift off the bed just enough to prop myself up on my elbows, and lick my lips as I take his eyes with mine. “Will you fuck your cum into my pussy and stay inside me so none leaks out? Please? Please Big Daddy?” I beg, my tone girlish and small, making a hurricane of groans tear free from his chest.

He shucks his pants to the floor, climbing onto the bed over me. With one fluid motion, he flips me onto all fours and takes my throat in one hand, lifting me to my knees. With his chest pressed into my back, he fishes his free hand between us, aligning his wide cockhead with my slippery center. It’s just now he’s feeling how drenched I am, and my nipples harden at his more than satisfied sigh.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking drenched. You love being Big Daddy’s little whore, don’t you?” he says as he forces his entire length in to the hilt, making me jerk. He applies pressure to the pulse point on my neck as his lips graze the back of my ear. “Hold your breath for Big Daddy and take every inch,” he whispers, making my nipples go rock hard. My entire body flushes and trembles as my airway constricts, my gasps melting into breathless choking. The slap of his body against mine from behind has my head swimming, and when he releases my throat and I’m able to breathe, I nearly fall forward from the rush of it all. He fills one palm with my breast, biting the side of my neck as he picks up his pace, fucking me in deep, hard strokes, fast and filthy.

“You want all of it, don’t you?” he grunts, pinching my nipple so fiercely I squeal. He releases my breast, forcing my face to the side as he brings his mouth to mine. I pucker my lips for a kiss, but he hooks his thumb in my mouth then spits inside, leaving warm, slick saliva on my tongue. “Hold it there so when I come, you’ll have me everywhere. That’s what you want, right? For Big Daddy to be in all of your holes, owning you like the slut you are, isn’t that right?”

My mind spins as my heart rate leaps, causing my body to shake and tremble as he plunges his monster in and out of me. My belly tightens as my orgasm crests, the warmth of his spit in my mouth turning me into his personal slut in ways I never imagined.

“Fill me up, Big Daddy, please, I need you, I need you to breed me so deep,” I beg as his spit moves around my mouth, meaning every slutty word that drips from my lips. I want to know what it feels like to be warm from the inside out, to feel the warmth of his load trickling through my hips, spilling into my panties for me to privately touch later.

“Fuck, Win, goddamn baby, you’re so hot. You’re such a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?”

His body slaps against mine. His lips tickle my ear. His spit makes my mouth tingle. My eyes roll closed as my orgasm breaks through, sending me over the edge. My cunt clenches all around him, sucking him deeper as he moves his hand to my throat and grips.

“Fuck yes, Win, fucking hell,” he shouts, the room vibrating from the strength of his voice. He thrusts and thrusts as I clench and moan, my pussy pulsing. “Your tight little whore cunt is draining me,” he groans, his grip on my pulse tightening. He holds my throat tight as he slowly thrusts his cum into me, each thrust followed by a hot burst that tears through me, his cock swelling inside me each time he shoots.

I love the way Big Daddy comes, the way he pumps shot after shot into me, like his cum is endless, like breeding me is what he was put on this planet to do.

“You feel all that cum?” he asks, releasing my throat. I fall onto my arms, in doggy position as he says, “And don’t swallow that spit yet. Talk around it. You can do it.”

With my mouth open and my head swimming, cunt still pulsing from the burn of his fat cock buried and flooding me deep, a shiver rolls down my spine as he spits. A thick wad of saliva slides between my cheeks, and Big Daddy uses his large thumb to push it into my asshole. “You ever been fucked here, slut?” he asks, the edge in his tone driving me wild. I nod my head fervently, peering back at him over my shoulder.

“Y-yes,” I breathe. I didn’t like it the time I tried it, not because it didn’t feel good but because it felt too personal for a nobody. But Big Daddy isn’t a nobody. I know this time I’m going to fucking love it.

Big Daddy reaches for the lube on the bed, squirting onto his fingers and straight into my open ass, massaging it in with his thick fingers.

“Hmm,” he groans, stretching my ass as a rush of cum moves inside me, dribbling out of my pussy. He uses the head of his cock to push it back in, the rumbled sigh in his chest making me drunk. “Take a breath,” he commands, and just when my lungs are completely full and I’m ready to exhale, he spits in his hand again, smearing it around my hole. He sinks every last inch in my ass, making me surge forward and squeal, gasping out.

“Ohmygod!!” I moan as Big Daddy’s hand comes around my belly, holding me up, his spit still sliding around my mouth.

“Let’s fill this ass so I’ve claimed all of you tonight,” he says, pushing into me again and again, making my groin burn in the best ways. My ass burns and my taint, too, but the burn bleeds into pleasure with each stroke, a blinding, all consuming pleasure that I chase with screams and moans.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck my ass Big Daddy, please, it’s yours, it’s your ass to fuck,” I scream out, my words garbled by his spit, surprised by my filthy mouth and desire to be degraded and owned. But god, it feels so good. Better than good.

He slaps my ass before reaching forward to grip my throat, stifling the ease of breathing. It feels good as the world grows hazy around me, as my ass spreads to accept him and tightens to keep him. He curses, he calls me his beautiful whore, his perfect slut, and when I’m on the brink of passing out, he presses his lips to the back of my ear, ordering me to swallow. He releases me and his hot cum floods my ass in powerful waves. When he’s nothing but twitches and moans, he slides out of me and flips me onto my back. Hovering above me, his dark eyes stare down, searching mine.

“You took it all so well, Winnie,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth before a large hand sweeps damp curls from my face.

I nod. “I can’t believe I’m some man’s slut.”

His dark eyes narrow and his forehead rumples. I look down at him and the smattering of chest hair blanketing his muscled core and strong chest. His gold watch remains on his wrist as his hands cage me to the mattress.

“God, you’re hot,” I tell him on an exhausted exhale. Tonight has been a lot. Filthy sex, hard to speak truths, attempting amends with my best friend who I hurt, saying the big three words, and more filthy sex.

“Some man’s slut?” Big Daddy snaps back.

I roll my eyes and raise a hand up, cupping his stubble laden cheek, my thumb swiping over the carved line of his jaw. “Yours. Your slut.” I can’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe I am but…” I look down at the terrain of his beauty one more time. “Fuck me, I totally am.”

“And only mine,” he confirms.

“Only yours.”

His smirk lights up my insides, but he pushes off the bed, commanding me to stay put. He returns dressed in sweats, no t-shirt, with a damp towel and a set of pajamas, cleaning me up then dressing me. “Can I ask now, who Corinne is?” I ask him playfully while he feeds a pair of satin pants up my hips.

He stops, raising his face to meet mine. “Let’s go feed you and then we’re going to bed.”

I stomp my bare foot against the floor as he moves to the door. “Hey,” I say again as he stops at the door, rolling his eyes. I point at him. “Your daughter got that from you.”

He glares at me. “Corinne is a client. I don’t do insecure.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t care if your cum is in my pussy and ass or not, you will not be an asshole to me.”

“How was I an asshole?” he harrumphs, his voice raising in volume.

“Calling me insecure. And this coming from the man who almost killed two men because they dared to speak with me.” I blink at him, enjoying the way he realizes he’s a hypocrite. With a heady sigh he sweeps a hand through his hair.

“She’s a client and I helped her through her divorce but I am also assisting her in the legalities of her new business start-up.”

I nod. I believe him. I also know that Big Daddy’s phone has rung off the hook for weeks without him so much as turning his head. But tonight, he saw her name and answered immediately. I trust him, but I have to know.

“It’s been a long time for you, Big Daddy, so I’ll be nice when I tell you that relationships are open doors. I don’t care how trivial something seems to you, you tell me. The same way that I would and do tell you everything.”

He just blinks at me.

“I trust you, but this is how it works.”

He blinks again. “Corinne is starting a small boutique in downtown San Francisco with her settlement money. She’s opening it with her sister, and looking for recommendations from the ground up.”

“See,” I start, walking toward him until I’m near enough to poke him in the chest. “Was that so hard?”

He looks constipated.

“What?”

He volleys his head. “I… Well, I gave her a copy of your final project and told her if she was interested in being a new business that helps other new businesses, to check you out. Or, I guess, to check out your work, rather.”

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. Embarrassment claws up my neck, coloring my cheeks at the same time the backs of my eyes burn from the rush of sudden tears.

Quincey licks his lips, shifting weight on his feet in the doorway of his bedroom. The entire mansion is silent but for the occasional quiet pop of the fire, which he flicked on as we entered earlier.

I knew Quincey didn’t know how to navigate his relationship with Brielle. Hell, I heard for years from her how he was shitty at communication. I guess I stupidly assumed that since I am his lover, he wouldn’t make those same mistakes.

But again, what a fool I am.

“How—how did you get my project?”

His shoulders rise and drop in the most insignificant of reactions. “From your work computer.”

“You took it without my permission?” I ask, silently praying that his eyes go wide, that something clicks, that the gross overstep on his part slides into place, that he becomes aware, alert, and deeply apologetic. Instead, he stays true to form, saying, “That computer and everything on it is Parker & Pen property.”

I step back. “Excuse me?”

He smooths his hand through his hair, the same hand that just held my throat and ravaged my body. “I mean, it was fair game being on that computer, was it not?”

“Fair game?” I question. “So you looked at my FeetFans account on your computer. Should that page be made public for the entire office to see, since it was on a Parker & Pen computer?” I step into him, my nostrils flaring from anger and frustration. “Should I let Pen see my FeetFans account? It’s fair game, after all.”

“Not the same thing, Winnie, and you know it,” he gruffs, turning to walk out the door, and then down the hall. I follow after him, aggravated and impatient.

“What I know is that my final project is for my graduate professor, not for you to give to someone without my consent!” I fold my arms over my chest, doing my best to ignore the soft satin against my warm skin.

From the fridge, he retrieves a can of Diet Coke, popping it open before sliding it to me. “Listen, it’s a goddamn fight out there in the city to make a name for yourself.” He pulls out another can and opens it, squinting as he sips. I know that squint. It’s the first drink carbonation burn and god do I want it. But more than I want it, I need him to see that he fucked up. “Look at my daughter,” he continues. “She’s got a great thing going for her now but without that mentorship provided from the film school, she’d be making documentaries about trees growing that people only watch when they can’t find the remote or are home sick with some godforsaken bug!”

He moves around the kitchen island, coming to my side, bringing his hands to my face.

“Listen, this isn’t about control or handouts. This is helping the woman I love have a better start than she would without me.” He kisses my forehead then puts the can in my hand. “It’s like the job and the car and the referral to Dr. Wilder. It’s just a little help. It doesn’t mean you deserve any of it less.”

“Fuck you,” I murmur softly as my heart pounds and my chin trembles. He’s helping me and had Corinne not picked the worst time in the world to call, it may have even been a surprise.

“Try again, brat,” he whispers, kissing me softly before giving me what I now internally call the I’ll get you pregnant smirk.

“Thank you,” I say before we seal the argument with a kiss. I sip my Diet Coke as Big Daddy makes grilled cheese sandwiches with cheeses I’ve never ever heard of, and we casually discuss how things went with Brielle. He tells me that he’s invited her to attend sessions with Dr. Wilder together, and that she’s accepted. Initially and selfishly I’m sad that Brielle didn’t tell me this, but I know that our relationship has changed, and this is an aspect of it. I want their relationship to thrive, and I know it needs work. His eyes soften when I tell him it’s a good thing, and I see in that moment how much even Big Daddy needs emotional support.

All things said and done, we agree we have a long road of amends ahead of us where Brielle is concerned, but that we’re lucky that she understood as much as she did. I’m glad they’re going to see Dr. Wilder—truly. After we’ve eaten and Quincey has rubbed my feet, he locks up and turns off the fireplace. On the way down the hall he says, “the reason she called was to tell me she selected your work. She wants you. She wants to meet next week.”