Page 48 of Big Daddy

“Wait here,” he says to me, climbing off the bed in search of a towel. When he comes back with a warm bath towel, he takes a seat at the edge of the bed, his eyes hovering on mine as he softly cleans me up.

“How are you feeling?”

I press a hand to my bare stomach, in the one place he hasn’t wiped up his mess. “Like I got bounced on a trampoline with a hangover.”

He pales. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I know I shouldn’t have,” he motions to my body, “come at you like that.”

“On me,” I correct, smiling. Then I reach for his towel, using it to clean the cum from my fingers, one at a time. He watches with rapt attention, attention that fuels me. “And I’m only kidding. I feel good.” I pass him back the cum-coated towel. “Don’t believe me?” I let my legs fall open, and look down at my still pink, still swollen clit. “Watching you rocket cum all over me has me ready for round two.”

Big Daddy groans, pulling the comforter over my bare body. “That fucking mouth of yours,” he says, smoothing a hand over his coif, restyling it with ease. “No round two. Round one was… foolish enough.”

I stick out my bottom lip in a pout. “How was riding me deep and hard a mistake?” I draw the question out like a piece of bubble gum. I love getting under Big Daddy’s skin. Under him otherwise, too. “You pulled out,” I remind him, but of course he knows. I’d be willing to bet I’m not the only one who wishes he wouldn’t have.

Suddenly, Quincey’s expression twists from something of frustration to wild anger. Anger, driven by intensity, consumes his features as he gets off the bed, to his feet, shoving big hands through his styled hair. “Asking you to live here. Having unprotected sex. Sneaking around behind Brielle’s back.” His hair, mussed, still looks sexy. He drops his hands to his sides, staring blankly at the comforter covering my body. “I have no business being with you.”

The breath caught in my chest whooshes out, leaving me hollow, my eyes burning from unshed tears.

“And yet,” he continues, slowly raising his eyes to mine. “You’re the only thing I want.”

I lick my lips, afraid to ask the question burning up my thoughts, incinerating my tongue. But I have to. Even if it’s foolish to want to ask, I can’t go another moment without knowing. “If I wasn’t her best friend, if we didn’t have to sneak around, if I was just someone you bumped into?—”

Finally, his dark eyes make it to mine. They narrow, and my stomach clenches. “Brielle has always told me that men flock to you. That you’re always being hit on and asked out.” Our gazes lock, and my heart is racing. “Yet you think so little of yourself.”

I swallow thickly around the blob of confusion and emotion in my throat. “No, I don’t.”

Pinching his slacks, Big Daddy sits on the edge of the bed, bringing his hand to my cheek. Having my cheek cupped makes me unusually emotional, and I press into his palm, savoring the affection. “You think sneaking around is what has me hard all day and all night?” His thumb traces the arch of my lips before plunging past them, onto my tongue. I suck his thumb as a small groan rattles in his chest. “Youmake me hard. Not sneaking around. And if you weren’t my daughter’s best friend,” he says quietly, slowly closing the space between us until we’re nearly nose to nose. I suck on his thumb as he says, “my cum would bekeeping you warm,” he says, placing his hand over my abdomen, applying gentle pressure. “And we’d never have to talk about you missing your pill again.”

From his words or the hangover, I’m not sure, but the room starts spinning. My head and neck feel heavy suddenly, and my brain goes to static like old TV sets when a show is over. I can’t think. I can’t speak.

I just sit there, dizzied by Big Daddy, and watch him pull garment bags from the closest, along with shopping bags.

“You still have to work today. But you can come in when you’re ready,” he says, hanging the bag on the armoire directly across from the bed. “I had clothes brought here, in your size.”

“I’m not the same size as Brielle,” I reply.

He casts me a glare that says he’s annoyed. “I told her your size.”

“How did you know my size?” I ask, folding my arms over the comforter covering my bra.

Big Daddy sighs. “I looked at the labels on all the clothes you had on.”

Oh. Well. I guess that makes sense.

“You woke a woman up at the ass crack of dawn to shop for me?” I push. I don’t know why I’m pressing this. Big Daddy did a nice thing for me. Still, each nice thing he does feels like a brick being laid in a wall between me and Brielle.

“No, she went out last night and did it. Brought it all back last night, too, which you’d remember if you weren’t passed out.” He snags an extra bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner. I hadn’t even noticed that till now, then again, all I’ve done in this room is sleep, think I’m dead, and fuck Big Daddy. “If you want to get drunk, you’ll do it with me. I can keep you safe and take care of you properly.”

I stick a leg out from the comforter, curling my toes. “So, when I want to get drunk, I should call my best friend's dadto come hang out with me? Sounds feasible,” I tease, my tone deadpan.

Big Daddy comes to the side of the bed and wraps his hand around my foot, bringing it to his crotch. I rub him through his slacks, but his eyes stay on mine. “That’s how you define me?”

I know exactly what he’s referring to, but my throat clogs the longer he looms over me, so I shrug. “You don’t even know my middle name,” I breathe, trying to make him understand that I want him with the same intensity, but we’re both being highly irrational. We don’t even know each other.

“May. Winnie May Collins. I saw it on your ID.” He presses his finger into his chest. “Come in when you feel better. The driver and car will be waiting.”

I sit up as he walks toward the door. “I’m coming with you. Just give me ten minutes, okay?”

He stops in the doorframe. “I said you could come in late.”

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