Page 38 of Big Daddy

For a few seconds, I take it in. The watercolor background design, the multilayered logo with perfectly accentuated branding, the easy to identify menu, the complimentary colors, the grabbiness—it’s beautiful. And I’m thoroughly impressed.

I glare down at her. “I don’t wear glasses.”

She smiles up at me, gloating and gorgeous. “You like my work. I can tell.”

“Hmm,” I grumble, wondering if she guessed or if there’s some tell on my face that Winnie can read. Because I do like the site. But I don’t like her disobeying me and calling me Big Daddy at work. I cast her a serious glare after quadruple checking the office is practically empty.

“My office. Now.” God, my pulse is flying at just the sight of her full lips and the smattering of freckles melted along the bridge of her button nose.

Winnie gets to her feet, her shapely calves accentuated by the height of the heels she’s wearing today.I want those ankles at my neck.

She folds her arms over her chest, stealing the view of her full tits in that sexy little white blouse. When I’m done trying to eye her tits, I find her gaze pinched in a glare. She’s in brat mode. Why am I surprised? I widen my stance, giving my cock room to fucking breathe as I eye the office one more time. A few people have left in the last couple of minutes.

Good.

“When I agreed to work here, you didn’t say anything about being at your beck and call,” she says, unfolding her arms long enough to peer down at her nails, inspecting them before she fits a loose curl into her bun.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you all day,” I argue, my voice rising. “I have to leave soon, so quit being difficult and get in there.”

She lets her body graze mine as she walks past me, into my office. I shut the door and twist the lock.

“Make it quick, Big Daddy, because I’m off of work in less than ten minutes.” She glances at the time on my computer screen in the bottom right corner. “Oh. Less than nine now.”

I cock an eyebrow. “You have somewhere to be?”

She smirks, twirling a curl around her finger. “You said you did.”

“But do you?”

She winks. “That’s for me to know, and Big Daddy not to know.”

I shake my head, aggravated. “I told you not to call me that here.”

Winnie makes a show of looking around. She even uses her hand for a makeshift visor as she peers around the large space. “No one is in here that I can see. It’s safe.”

Well, I can’t argue with that. And anyway, I’d be lying if I said Big Daddy doesn’t give me a semi. She’s the only one who says it, and it sounds so good when she does. Still, not the point.

“You deliberately disobeyed me,” I growl, closing the distance between us with a hand on her hip. “Why do you insist on driving me crazy?”

With one hand, she reaches up, sliding her palm along my cheek, her thumb hooking my jaw. “You still owe me an apology.”

My mind spins and my cock aches. She smells so good. “You owemean apology for disobeying me,” I remind her, but it only makes her laugh.

“You implied having a foot fetish is weird, and that’s not cool.” She steps back, leaving my hand empty. I reach for her, attempting to pull her back into me as I sit on the edge of my desk. But she steps back even further, wagging a finger at me with her lips twisted into a sinister, sexy grin. “Apologize, Mr. Parker.”

“No.” I love her bratty side. It turns me to stone.

She glances at the time on my computer screen again then lets out a long sigh. “Fine. You want to apologize the hard way? Let’s do it the hard way. But just so you know, I’m still on the clock.”

Slowly, she reaches down, cupping her heel with her hand, sliding it off. The first shoe plunks to the floor, and she repeats the action, taking the other off. Standing before me in nylons, she holds up a single finger as if to remind me she’s not done.

Fishing around under the waist of her skirt, she finally bends, collecting nylon fabric in bunches at her knee, slowly pulling them down. A moment later, she stands, holding a ball of tan fabric in her hands. She wiggles her toes, the nails painted a powdery pink, and points.

“You’re gonna feel stupidandsorry, Mr. Parker,” she rasps, sauntering up to me, the subtle sway of her hips making my mouth go dry.

Looping her hand around my tie, she pushes me back onto my elbows on my desk and proceeds to fall into her chair across from me.

“You didn’t have nylons on this morning,” I say aloud as it occurs to me.

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