Page 70 of Big Daddy

“Let’s fill this ass so I’ve claimed all of you tonight,” he says, pushing into me again and again, making my groin burn in the best ways. My ass burns and my taint, too, but the burn bleeds into pleasure with each stroke, a blinding, all consuming pleasure that I chase with screams and moans.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck my ass Big Daddy, please, it’s yours, it’s your ass to fuck,” I scream out, my words garbled by his spit, surprised by my filthy mouth and desire to be degraded and owned. But god, it feels so good. Better than good.

He slaps my ass before reaching forward to grip my throat, stifling the ease of breathing. It feels good as the world grows hazy around me, as my ass spreads to accept him and tightens to keep him. He curses, he calls me his beautiful whore, his perfect slut, and when I’m on the brink of passing out, he presses his lips to the back of my ear, ordering me to swallow. He releases me and his hot cum floods my ass in powerful waves. When he’s nothing but twitches and moans, he slides out of me and flips me onto my back. Hovering above me, his dark eyes stare down, searching mine.

“You took it all so well, Winnie,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth before a large hand sweeps damp curls from my face.

I nod. “I can’t believe I’m some man’s slut.”

His dark eyes narrow and his forehead rumples. I look down at him and the smattering of chest hair blanketing his muscled core and strong chest. His gold watch remains on his wrist as his hands cage me to the mattress.

“God, you’re hot,” I tell him on an exhausted exhale. Tonight has been a lot. Filthy sex, hard to speak truths, attempting amends with my best friend who I hurt, saying the big three words, and more filthy sex.

“Some man’s slut?” Big Daddy snaps back.

I roll my eyes and raise a hand up, cupping his stubble laden cheek, my thumb swiping over the carved line of his jaw. “Yours. Your slut.” I can’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe I am but…” I look down at the terrain of his beauty one more time. “Fuck me, I totally am.”

“And only mine,” he confirms.

“Only yours.”

His smirk lights up my insides, but he pushes off the bed, commanding me to stay put. He returns dressed in sweats, no t-shirt, with a damp towel and a set of pajamas, cleaning me up then dressing me. “Can I ask now, who Corinne is?” I ask him playfully while he feeds a pair of satin pants up my hips.

He stops, raising his face to meet mine. “Let’s go feed you and then we’re going to bed.”

I stomp my bare foot against the floor as he moves to the door. “Hey,” I say again as he stops at the door, rolling his eyes. I point at him. “Your daughter got that from you.”

He glares at me. “Corinne is a client. I don’t do insecure.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t care if your cum is in my pussy and ass or not, you will not be an asshole to me.”

“How was I an asshole?” he harrumphs, his voice raising in volume.

“Calling me insecure. And this coming from the man who almost killed two men because they dared to speak with me.” I blink at him, enjoying the way he realizes he’s a hypocrite. With a heady sigh he sweeps a hand through his hair.

“She’s a client and I helped her through her divorce but I am also assisting her in the legalities of her new business start-up.”

I nod. I believe him. I also know that Big Daddy’s phone has rung off the hook for weeks without him so much as turning his head. But tonight, he saw her name and answered immediately. I trust him, but I have to know.

“It’s been a long time for you, Big Daddy, so I’ll be nice when I tell you that relationships are open doors. I don’t care how trivial something seems to you, you tell me. The same way that I would and do tell you everything.”

He just blinks at me.

“I trust you, but this is how it works.”

He blinks again. “Corinne is starting a small boutique in downtown San Francisco with her settlement money. She’s opening it with her sister, and looking for recommendations from the ground up.”

“See,” I start, walking toward him until I’m near enough to poke him in the chest. “Was that so hard?”

He looks constipated.

“What?”

He volleys his head. “I… Well, I gave her a copy of your final project and told her if she was interested in being a new business that helps other new businesses, to check you out. Or, I guess, to check out your work, rather.”

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. Embarrassment claws up my neck, coloring my cheeks at the same time the backs of my eyes burn from the rush of sudden tears.

Quincey licks his lips, shifting weight on his feet in the doorway of his bedroom. The entire mansion is silent but for the occasional quiet pop of the fire, which he flicked on as we entered earlier.

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