Page 22 of Big Daddy

She shrugs. “Just the cheap stuff.”

“Never had nice wine?” I question, placing my phone on the counter.

Winnie rolls her neck as she finds her way to a barstool at my kitchen island. “Big Daddy, for a lawyer, you can be pretty stupid.” She hooks a thumb into her chest. “Poor. Remember?”

She looks around the kitchen, her eyes following the cabinets all the way to the ceiling before they move along the crown molding, then down along the thick slabs of stamped concrete that comprise the countertop. “But you sure as hell aren’t.”

Crouching, I open the small wine fridge and root around until I find the best bottle. When I stand, I bring two wine glasses with me, and reach into the drawer for the opener. Scotch midday and now wine? Why not?

That summarizes how I feel around Winnie.Why the fuck not?

I intentionally ignore the laundry list of reasons.

“We established that outside, did we not?” I question, referencing her awe of my home earlier.

“Does it make you feel bad that you’re rich if I point it out?” she asks, reaching for the stem of the wine glass that I fill for her.

“No, because I earned this and when you earn something, there is no guilt.” I take a sip from my glass, savoring the notes of bitter black currant preserves in the pricey Bordeaux.

Winnie swings one of her long legs into the air, hooking a bare foot onto the counter top. She wiggles her toes as she dances her eyebrows, sipping her wine. “Like selling my feet photos?”

I consider her counter argument. “No,notlike selling your feet photos.”

Curving around the counter, I come to stand in front of her as she lowers her wine glass to the counter, her eyes fixed on mine. “No feet on the countertop,” I tell her, my voice husky, my cockthickening. I reach out, wrapping my palm around her bare foot. Slowly, I lower her leg and foot back down, never breaking eye contact.

Her lips move, and her eyes hold mine as she searches for words, swallowing loudly, maybe even a bit nervously. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she breathes, a smirk dusting her lips.

She rests her hands in her lap, clutching the hem of her t-shirt, her eyes hooded, passion brewing between us.

“How do you like the wine?” I ask, so the silence bears more than my malevolent intentions.

“I hate it,” she breathes, still nervously tracing the thread on her shirt. “Why is it not like my feet photos?” She finishes the Bordeaux.

“You drank it all,” I point out, acknowledging the empty glass in my periphery. “And you shouldn’t have to use your body to earn money for necessities.”

My shoes slide against the slick floor, bringing us nearer. So near that I hear each exhale that escapes her, each slow blink of her hooded eyes as she stares up at me.

“Just for fun?”

I let one brow rise, questioning her.

“According to the rules of Big Daddy, I can’t use my body to make money for necessities, but can I use it just for fun? ”

I nod. “That’s one of the things your body is for, yes.” Sweat beads along my upper lip, beneath the day-old stubble. The wine combo is driving me to say things I wouldn’t normally say.

“What are the other things?” she asks, batting her eyes in a way that tells me she isn’t trying to be seductive at all, but still seducing me nonetheless. She’s just Winnie, and god do I want her. “Enlighten me,” she says, then slowly, tantalizingly she adds, “Quincey.”

A growl unfurls inside me, causing my core to nearly vibrate from my unfettered desires. Since the moment I laid eyes onWinnie, I knew she’d be hard to forget. Now, though, I’m actually a little fucking terrified of what I’d do for her.

“Do you really want to know?” I ask, my voice husky as I lean over the counter, grabbing the wine. While I enjoyed the wine, I prefer the scotch, but I don’t switch back becauseshelikes the wine. Despite the fact I know I should stop, I refill my glass. Knowing she doesn’t need a second either, I still refill hers, saying, “It will change things between us, Winnie, if I answer that question truthfully.”

“Give it to me,” she replies, swiping her glass from me to take a big drink. “I can take it.”

My head falls forward, my eyes on her bare toes curled around the barstool as I fight the image of her riding my cock. Stifling a groan, I can’t stop myself from imagining my thick shaft disappearing between her hairless pink lips as her head falls back and she moans, “I can take it, fuck me hard, I can take it!”

Taking a breath in through my nose, I exhale through my mouth as my gaze lifts to hers. I wonder how I went all these years without meeting Winnie, and in a way, I thank God that we never crossed paths. Would I have been able to resist her through an undergraduateandmaster’s degree? I’ve known her a week and I’m dying to tear off those shorts and fuck her sweet little cunt until she’s a speechless puddle of my cum.

“Your body isn’t a playground for men, Winnie, and you shouldn’t use it as such. Have fun on your terms. Without payment. To makeyouhappy,” I reach past her for the bottle of wine, holding her eyes as I top myself off.

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