Page 24 of Big Daddy

quincey

Winnie slowly unravelsherself from me, and finds the barstool with her ass, her eyes on my cock.

“My eyes are up here,” I breathe, calibrating to the fact that she was in my arms for a few hot, torrid fucking seconds. I tasted her kiss, I felt her tongue.

I sit in the barstool next to hers, our knees pressed together as we struggle to catch our breaths.

“I finished the wine,” she says, picking up the conversation from earlier. Strangely, our eyes linger where our knees connect, and my groin fills with an undeniable pressure, an overwhelming heat. My cock is dying here. “But only so I wasn’t rude.”

“You didn’t have to finish it.” I swallow thickly around the gentle words lodged in my throat, searching for a husky or gravelly tone to adopt. “You don’t have to do things you don’t want to do. That’s my point aboutFeetFans. You don’t have to do that.”

“No?” she arches a brow, boldly reaching between us to fill her palm with my cock. She squeezes, and our eyes go to whereshe holds me through my slacks. Her fingertips and thumb don’t meet, and that drives me fucking wild.

She’s so tiny. Me and my huge cock would destroy her in the best goddamn ways.

I’d get her pregnant on the first try.

…

The fuck?Get herpregnant?I shake my head, reaching for the bottle of wine to pour another, because a man my age with a grown ass adult child does not need to be fucking fantasizing about breeding. No goddamn way. I have to stop with these fantasies.

“No.” I sip the scotch, my veins brimming with liquid confidence. “I forbid it.”

“Forbid it?” Winnie giggles, the little buzz she has going making the apples of her cheeks pink. “You can’t forbid me to do anything.” She licks her lips as her hand continues pumping me, her knees spreading. “You’re just Brielle’s father. You’re not anything to me.”

“I’m the man whose cock is in your hand.”

Her little grin is wicked, and the way she nibbles her bottom lip has me groaning. “It doesn’t have to be.” She uncurls her fingers.

“Don’t you fucking dare let go,” I warn, tipping my forehead against hers. She laughs, gripping me even harder, giving me a slow, long tug.

With her hand on my cock, I can’t help but realize she’s right. I’m no one to her. I hate that I feel so goddamn out of control around someone I have no claim to. An idea hits, and I waste no time throwing it out, like a lifeline. It’s for her, but I’m only trying to help myself at this point.

I’m not ready to not see Winnie every day.

“I can forbid it if I’m your boss.” I sit up, curving my hand around hers, guiding her to my balls. Her breathing shallows,her chest heaving as she blinks at me, arousal flaring in her eyes. “I’m your boss now, Winnie. And I won’t have an employee of Parker & Pen on a site like that. It’s bad for business.”

She swallows loudly, and I guide her back to my shaft after allowing her to feel my heavy, hulking balls.

Winnie pumps me as our eyes meet.Brielle’s best friend is jerking me off over my pants right now. I shake my head, unwilling to let reality ruin this. I want Winnie. And I’m going to fucking have her.

The fallout and consequences be damned.

“You’re not my boss, Quincey.”

“I can be,” I reply. “You need money. For that, you need a job. And it just so happens, I need a secretary.” Her thumb follows the heavy vein that runs the length of my shaft, and she traces it slowly, painfully, erotically. “You gonna be a jerk to me like you are to Kennedy? Hmm?”

My face twists, I know it does, and based on the unimpressed expression that washes over her and the fact that she stops jerking me off, it’s clear she takes issue with my response.

“I’m not a jerk to Kennedy,” I defend, because it’s true. Maybe prior secretaries, but the office manager? I’m respectful enough. And anyway, I want Winnie to keep moving her hand, even if it’s probably a good idea that she stops. Because one more stroke and I’m liable to tear off those tiny running shorts and shove inside of her until she’s sobbing and choking out my name.

She folds her arms over her chest, so I reach down and grab my cock, giving myself a squeeze. She wants to stay bratty, but watching me is too much. Crimson splotches her cheeks as her eyes lock to my hand, my gold watch glittering in the bar lights, shining in her eyes.

“Quit being a brat and take the job. Take. The. Job.” I groan, releasing myself long enough to open my belt.

It’s bold, everything about this day is. I wouldn’t be this bold if I thought there was a chance I was misreading her. But I’m not. She squirms on the barstool, eyes glued to my zipper, which I slowly tease down.

She nods. “I shouldn’t.” She looks up at me with heavy eyes. “Ireallydon’t even know you.”

---