Page 64 of Big Daddy

I lick my lips and leap, grabbing and swinging through the chaos of my thoughts on that last spoken word.

“Baby! We could have one and you’re just standing here all… post-sex handsome and calm.”

He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall, and even in his fatigue after a long day, he still stands before me so large and engrossing. It makes my skin heat in the best ways to be in his presence. “Why wouldn’t I be calm?”

I shake my head and bring my hands to my temples, grabbing my skull so it doesn’t spin three-hundred and sixty degrees likefucking Beetlejuice. “Because of literally everything, Quincey, that’s why.”

“Quincey,” he repeats, disdain wrinkling his forehead in deep grooves.

“That’s your name,” I deadpan.

“Not to you it’s not. To you, I’m Big Daddy.” His hand slides from my hip to the soft place between my legs, and his thumb gets to work rubbing me where it feels good. His eyes never leave mine as he touches me over my clothes. “I hope you’re pregnant. I hope my child is growing inside you. I hope you come home with me and never leave. I’m not afraid of Brielle’s feelings. I trust her heart can heal, and her brain can understand. The way I am coming to realize I was wrong about judging her, she can and will do the same for us. And where you’re concerned, about you—I’m not afraid of your youth. I’m not afraid of anything.”

My heart races behind my ribs as a rivulet of sweat curves along my spine. This is intense. “You're gonna settle down with some twenty-something you just met a few months ago? Really?” I croak out the question hoarsely and sarcastically, because it seems so unrealistic. Yet hope bubbles up so tall inside my chest that I feel like I can hardly breathe.

His soulful eyes search mine as he finds the right momentum, rubbing my clit perfectly as my legs spread for him. “Yes.” His mouth comes down on mine, and he shoves his hand between my thighs, curling his fingers into my slit, rubbing my clit skin on skin. I’m so wet and his fingers are so thick and strong, I can’t help but moan his name as my head falls back.

“Q…” I breathe, a tremor of shock rippling through me.

He fingers me harder, grinding my g-spot with the tips of his fingers curled perfectly,bringing me to the edge. “I love feeling my cum on my fingers when I’m inside your cunt.” He nips at the side of my throat, the scruff of his jaw grazing my skin, leaving me a trembling mess. “I’m gonna marry you, Winnie. I’m gonnafuck you til you’re pregnant, and you’re gonna be pregnant a lot because I’ll never tire of breeding you, my beautiful, perfect fucking queen. My soul mate. My altar.”

“Oh shit, Big Daddy, yes,” I moan, his nickname rolling from my lips with ease. My thighs tighten and my stomach clenches as the pleasure inside me roars, peaking as my climax washes over me. His large hands sink into me as I thrash and moan, coming in nearly violent waves while a hot tingle swarms my brain. “Please, oh my god, yes,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes closed to hide the emotion burning behind them, writhing against his hand as I come down from my high.

He takes my chin as I catch my breath, and forces me to face him, his nostrils flaring. “No morning after. No apartment with hundreds of roommates. No secrets.” His eyes sweep mine, leaving me breathless as he adds, “Get ready, we’re going to dinner and then you’re coming home.”

Sweats still banded around my legs, I look around the bathroom, sniffling. “I need to pack a bag.”

Big Daddy shakes his head. “We’ll come back tomorrow for that, or I’ll send Ken. Whatever you need tonight, we’ll pick up on the way home.”

“Kennedy does not work at Parker & Pen to collect your girlfriend’s underwear and pajamas at midnight. Don’t use her that way,” I scold, sniffling as I swipe the remnants of my tears.

Big Daddy sighs. “Fine. We’ll come here tomorrow, okay? But for now, get dressed and let's get to dinner.”

I nod. “H-how was the ceremony?” I feel even more guilty for not asking immediately. And when Big Daddy’s face falls, my nerves twist me up. “What?” I question, worry weighing me down.

“It was… it was okay.” He adjusts his tie, suddenly very interested in his money clip and phone as he fishes them outfrom his pocket. “Forty-five minutes,” he says, still not meeting my eye. “So get ready.”

I snatch his loaded money clip from his hand and toss it across the bathroom, lowering his phone carefully to the counter. “What happened?”

Quincey looks across the bathroom to his money clip laying on the ground and returns his focus to me, glaring. “Don’t be a brat.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

We stand in dense silence, the weight of everything unsaid keeping us grounded as we stare at one another.

Finally, Quincey sighs. “We argued, okay? We argued but… we’re still on for dinner, which means there’s reasoning there. There's still possibility and hope.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Were you a jerk?”

He glares but doesn’t speak, and that’s answer enough.

“Quincey! You can’t be an asshole!” I put my hands on my hips. “What were you rude about? Or were you rude in general?”

He sighs, so long and chest-hollowing that nerves worm through me again. Who knew loving an asshole with a short fuse was so stressful. “I expressed my opinion on her unconventional relationship.”

I arch a brow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.We’rein an unconventional relationship! You have to support her because she’s your daughter, but you really have to support her if you want her to support us!”

His hand goes to the door where he yanks it open and steps out, thumping his way toward my room. My roommates fill the small space but I ignore them as I traipse after Big Daddy, hands on hips. He begins rooting around my small section of closet as Dante, Luke and I watch.

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