Page 77 of Big Daddy

“You...” he trails off, confusion knitting his brows, his eyes locked onto mine. “Are you sick?”

I shake my head. “No.” And because it’s killing me to have him think my feelings have changed, I quickly add, “I do love you. I do. That hasn’t changed.” I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his forearm, giving him a reassuring squeeze, but he only shakes me off.

“I’ve been avoiding you,” I tell him, because I know I need to come up with something.

“No shit,” he deadpans. Outside, birds chirp and a plane can be heard in the distance. The world goes on, and I long to be part of that, not to be here, shutting myself off to the man I love, causing us all pain over a promise I should never have made. He looks out the window then back to me. “If you love me, why have you been avoiding me? Are you in trouble?”

I shake my head. “No. And… I can’t talk about it. Not yet.” I grab my sweater and purse off the bed, holding my mouth tightly shut so he can’t see the tremor in my chin. “Let’s go. I’ll see you there.”

He calls after me, and walking away from him is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

The walk to the elevator has my heart racing. Big Daddy catches up with me, his long strides easily allowing him. He snakes his pinky around my two littlest fingers, and squeezes them. I don’t slow my pace but I do glance up at him, only to find his eyes focused on the bank of elevators we’re approaching.

He hits the button, then glances down at me. We both face forward, and I swear the Earth moves beneath my feet as we wait for those doors to open. Once we’re inside, I want to scream, my ears are throbbing and the noise in my brain is loud. I can’t wait to tell him I was just distant to keep Brielle’s secret—that none of this was deep or intentional.

We’re so insanely close.

The elevator dings and we walk out, Quincey releases my fingers then straightens his tie. He turns his head toward me, slightly tipping his mouth down when he says, “I’m so hard for you right now.”

God, I miss him. And I feel fucking horrible that he’s trying so hard. My sweet asshole.

A warm vibration tingles between and all through my pussy lips, and my clit comes to life a little. My hips and chest ache,dying to surge forward, yearning and aching to be with him. Like steel, my nipples stiffen. I need his mouth on my body. I need him now.

But not yet.

“This way, Winnie,” he commands, nodding toward his office as I attempt to drop off at my desk. “Kennedy!” he shouts, barely turning his head. A moment later, she skitters up. Normally I’d demand that he call for her on the phone or, at the very least, stop walking from her so she doesn’t have to run. But today, I can’t scold him. He’s already on the brink with me, I can feel it. Everything will make sense soon.

Kennedy paces ahead of us, and Big Daddy grabs my fingers with his pinky again, but this time, stops us in our tracks. Kennedy moves ahead to the office door next to Quincey’s, the vacant one, presumably for another partner.

I look up at him, and my insides clench, warmth sizzling through my center, seeping into my panties. “You deserve this. This isn’t because you’re the sweetest slut I’ve ever known. And it isn’t because I’m madly in love with you. It’s because you fucking deserve it.” Nearby, Kennedy’s face goes red as she fixes her focus on adjusting a photo on the wall.

He dips down, pressing his soft, full lips against my cheek. I’m dying to turn my head, to catch his mouth with mine and reach my arms around his neck at the same time. I’m dying to spread my legs for him and feel his thick cock pulse inside me as he comes. It’s the best feeling.Heis the best feeling.

After a soft kiss he rises, following behind Kennedy inside the new office. I trail behind them, feeling like the dunce. Big Daddy is taking me to see a lawyer? I deserve to see a lawyer? Why? Wait?—

Stepping inside, I see my name on the desk. The office is decked out with a new fancy computer complete with three monitors, a beautiful espresso wood chair, a great bookcase, animmense floor to ceiling window, and a few leather tufted chairs in front of the custom desk. “Why is my name on the desk?” My heart is racing as my eyes jump to Big Daddy’s.

I’ve been so cold this week. I want to throw up. He doesn’t reply so I ask again.

“Whyis my name on the desk?”

“Because this is your office. For your graphic design and branding studio. For your business, now that you have a roster of clients,” he says, placing a succulent on my desk. I don’t know when he picked that up, then again, I was looking around this office for a long moment.

“You did this for me?”

He rolls his eyes and my heart beats madly. I fucking love this asshole. “You did it for yourself. Corinne recommended you to all the other clients you now have because you are good, and that’s you, baby.”

My chest aches with the way I adore this man. My nipples get plucky, too. God, I’m so wet that I’m actually sticky between my legs. My thighs will make a noise when I walk, I know they will. And my panties and skirt? They will not contain my arousal if I have to sit down.

All I have to do is get out of herewithoutsitting down.

I can do that.

Big Daddy puts his hand on the back of the wooden chair at the desk. My wooden chair, beautiful natural wood, is utterly gorgeous. “Come sit,” he says, glancing down at the seat. “It’s got a pad on it so you don’t have to sit on wood,” he says, adding in a silky growl, “we wouldn’t want that.”

I swallow hard. “What color?”

His brow curves. “What color what?”

---