Chapter 13
chapter thirteen
quincey
Stupid fucking lawyer shit.
I had back-to-back meetings, conference calls, and even had to make a last-minute run to see a judge downtown today.
I barely got a whiff of Winnie.
But there’s fifteen minutes left in the work day. I know I can make her come in less than three.
Pen is talking to J.R., one of the law associates, and has been prattling on for the last five minutes. That’s twenty minutes I could have had with Winnie, but I had manners and gave five of those to Davis post-court. Now, though, he and J.R. need to get the fuck out.
“And I keep saying, it’s gotta be unanimous or else we’ll have a mistrial on our hands,” Pen says, his eyes growing wide, not unlike half dollars. “Mistrial means we go back, do it again, so more money for us, sure, but is that what’s really right for the client?” He poses the question in the phoniest voice. It’s the voice he uses when he wants the associates to think he’s thoughtful and sympathetic.
“Hey,” I say, interrupting him. I hate that he’s sitting in Winnie’s chair. Sure, she’s only sat there twice, but the first time she took it, it was hers. “Get out. I have something to do.”
Unfazed by my usual abrupt approach to communication, Pen gets to his feet. “C’mon J.R., the evening is young. We can continue this in my office.” Pen tips an imaginary hat to me—something he always does, and something that makes my skin crawl. Nodding while shooing them both out, I trail them to the door.
With a tight chest and my hands balled into fists at my side, I finally lay eyes on her.
Her back to me, Winnie sits at the desk right outside my office, a legal notepad next to her. On it are a few names and numbers, likely because I was already on the phone and she didn’t know how to send it to the answering service. But on her computer screen is one of the programs I had IT install for her, and it appears that she’s working on a website. Personal branding for it, or something like it. I’m not sure. In the top corner, a small music player reads “The Best of AC/DC” and when I take another small step forward, I notice Hells Bells is very quietly playing on her computer.
“Stop lingering, Large Father,” she says, still facing her screen.
I clear my throat, stuffing my now relaxed hands into my pockets. Just seeing her sets me at ease. “Try again.”
With a heavy sigh, she spins in the chair, looking up at me. Her eyes are bloodshot from staring at her screen, her curls have more volume, with more strands free, framing her face. Her full lips curve into a smirk that makes my chest thump when she says, “My apologies, Mr. Parker.”
I remain motionless as my eyes dart up, veering around the wide open space. There’s less than fifteen minutes of the work day left for all the assistants and secretaries, so it’s not a surprise to see everyone’s focus is on tidying their spaces and readying their bags.
Two more minutes and we’ll be nearly alone. And nearly is close enough at this point.
“AC/DC fan?” I ask, because I don’t know much about Winnie, despite the fact I feel so connected. I sound like a hormonal teen with a fucking fortune cookie but I can’t help it.
She slaps her palms onto the arm rests of her chair. “Uh, yeah, and you’d be crazy not to be. Brian Johnson is the king of scream rock.”
I scratch my temple with one finger, tamping down my amusement. “Scream rock?”
Winnie makes a hand gesture and starts whipping her head, chestnut curls flying loose from her bun. “You know,” she says when she stops. “Rock you scream out to. Get the aggression out. No one listens to AC/DC and feels worse after, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong,” I say, surprised to discover her reasoning. Winnie is continually throwing me for a loop in the best ways, and I don’t know what to do with that information. I rub a palm down my tie under the guise of adjusting, but simply needing to move the air around in my chest. She makes me breathless for no reason and I’m not exactly a breathless type of man.
Asshole? Yes.
Aloof? You bet.
Breathless from tummy flutters? Fuck.
I hate who I’m becoming, but it also feels like breaking the surface and stealing a lungful of air after being underwater for too long.
Necessary, freeing and relieving, too.
“What else do you listen to?” I hedge as my eyes survey the space one more time. A woman struggles to fit an oversized Tupperware container in her purse, while another man ties and unties his shoes. I want them to get the fuck out, but I also realize this means a few more seconds of getting to know Winnie before I bury my face in her cunt and eat my first dinner of the night.
She coils a curl around her finger, and though her face doesn’t read seduction, my cock thickens. “A little bit of everything, I guess. Not a ton of new stuff since most of it is synthesized, or the artist doesn’t write their own stuff or anything. I mean, hey, not everyone is a songwriter. But if you’re not gonna write the music, at least play the guitar or snare drums, you know?”
I smirk.
“I just appreciate an artist who puts in the effort.” She rolls back a foot, allowing me full access to her computer screen. “Speaking of—you like my website? It’s fake, of course, but it’s kind of what I’m workshopping for my final project.”
“Building a site doesn’t seem like it should warrant a master’s degree,” I tell her. “That feels like an undergraduate degree final project,” I add.
First, she gives me the death glare, then she rolls her eyes, pointing to the logo at the top. “It’s not just about building the website. It’s about each design element. These aren’t plug-ins or clip art. I created every single thing. Each button graphic, all of it.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Get it?”
I narrow my eyes, stepping nearer to get a better view of the screen.
“Need your readers, 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 owe me an 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 stupid and sorry, 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.
She grips the armrests in the chair, slouching down to extend her legs toward me, her feet smoothing up the insides of my thighs. “Kennedy advised me to wear them. Said it’s inappropriate without them.”
Her toes connect with my balls, swollen and hot, causing me to curse aloud. “Fuck, Jesus Christ, Winnie.” Her words settle in through the erection haze. “Kennedy isn’t the fucking boss—I am, and if you don’t want to wear nylons, you don’t have to. I’ll fire?—”
“Stop,” she urges, using her foot to stop me. She presses her toes into the base of my shaft, eyes tamped down on mine. “Kennedy is doing her job. You won’t fire her. You won’t disparage her for doing what she was hired to do. I’ll wear the nylons.”
“I don’t want you to wear the nylons,” I groan, my eyes dropping to her delicate feet, watching as they trace each side of my eager cock.
“Afraid you won’t be able to see my panties?” she teases, outstretching her leg to allow her foot to sweep along the crown of my cock. Beneath my clothes, a puddle pools on my groin near my waistband. I’ve been a leaking mess since I touched and tasted her this morning.
“I’m afraid half the money you earn will be spent buying new pairs of nylons because your boss keeps ripping them off.” I keep my eyes trained on the way she moves her feet around my cock, and right when I’m about to reach for my belt, she stops.
Dropping her feet to the floor, she reaches past me, her hand grazing my thigh as she swipes a stapler from my desk. She sets it on the ground, reaches out again, this time taking my hand. Winnie waits for me to sit up, off my elbows, and then she places my hand on my cock.
“Watch my feet, touch yourself, then tell me you don’t get it.” She stands for a moment, rising to her toes to press her mouth to mine. Her kiss is surprisingly intimate, long and slow, with hushed moans passing between us. She pulls back, leaving me starved and needy, whispering, “Anything can be erotic if you have an open mind.” She kisses me again. “Open your mind, Big Daddy.”
Sinking back into the seat, she moves her bare feet along the stapler, keeping her voice low as she says, “This feels good, doesn’t it?”
A knot of pressure and unease builds in my chest as my cock rises all the way up in my slacks. Fuck, I’ve been hard all day and this little stapler foot show is gonna send me over the edge.
She looks at me, but I give her nothing, because I want more and if I tell her she’s right and that I’m sorry, she’ll stop. “Still not seeing it,” I lie, stroking my erection freely, my body and actions in direct opposition to my words.
“No?” she smirks, eyeing me as I jack myself. I shake my head, a bead of sweat slithering down the back of my collar.
Curling her toes around the end of the stapler, she uses her other foot to knead and massage the plastic, all while moaning out the most feral, erotic shit.
“My feet make your cock so hard, don’t they, Big Daddy?”
“I bet you wish this stapler was your aching dick, don’t you?”
“You’d be so lucky to come on my feet. You wish, huh?”
Her bratty mouth, her taunts, the fact I’ve been tasting her cunt all day—it’s too much. Reluctantly, I throw in the towel so I don’t blow in my pants.
“I’m sorry,” I say, releasing my grip. “I was wrong to kink shame.”
She stops teasing the stapler, her cheeks flush. This is turning her on, too, that little minx.
“You were wrong. Thank you.” Winnie rises, and her hard nipples make my mouth water. “And I’m sorry for disobeying you, Mr. Parker. I’ll make sure to save your nickname for when we’re in private .”
She looks down at my cock, and grabs it, giving it a squeeze so perfect that I bat her hand away, making her giggle.
“Don’t,” I warn. “I’ve had your pussy on my taste buds all day. I can’t take much more. And the first time you see me come isn’t going to be in my pants.”
“That’s kinda hot,” she says, chewing her bottom lip as she studies the outline of my erection.
“Not as hot as leaving every drop of my load deep inside you. Not as hot as you talking to fucking Dante while I’m leaking into your panties, into your little bed. Hmm? That’s hotter. And that’s what I want.”
Slowly, she traces her lips with her tongue and says, “What about my mouth? You don’t want to come in my mouth?”
Just as slowly as she licks her lips, she lowers to her knees and holds her mouth open wide.
“Winnie,” I breathe, hesitant. I don’t know why I’m suddenly hesitant. It doesn’t make sense.
“Afraid?” she asks, keeping her mouth wide after she asks.
“Of what?” I ask, confused by my hesitancy, and thrown by her question.
“Of liking it too much,” she says simply.
Our eyes hold, hers shiny and hopeful as she blinks up, her pink tongue jutted out, waiting for my cock.
I wrestle with reason for less than a second. We’re already doing something wrong. We’re already in trouble. We’re already walking a shitty tightrope.
I reach for my belt and whip it open and off, unzipping myself before looping the leather around the back of her neck. Her eyes widen.
“Kinky Daddy,” she says, reaching up to wrap her hands around the leather. I unzip and my boxers stand no chance as my cock juts out through the gap immediately, veiny and heavy, the shaft glistening from all the leaking.
“Holy hell,” Winnie breathes. I study her face as she takes in the sight of my naked cock for the second time. I watch with pride as her eyes grow hooded, her neck flushes with color, and her chest lifts with an anxious, anticipatory breath. “It’s even bigger…” She trails off, trying again. “You’re so big… Daddy,” she breathes, and without preamble, drops her mouth to my crown.
“Fuck!” I hiss, my head falling back as her soft lips slide down my shaft, inch by inch. She can’t take all of me, but she bobs on the portion she can. Nothing has ever felt so good. No other mouth, nothing. “Shit, Winnie,” I groan, tugging the belt to force feed her another few inches. Precum spills from me and I tug the belt again, her throat tightening around my cockhead as she swallows.
“God, I wanna fuck you,” I tell her, jerking on the belt to keep her mouth bobbing, spit pooling on the floor beneath us. “I cannot wait to sink inside you, to fuck the brat out of you, to leave you sore and full of my load.”
She whimpers on my cock, her eyes fluttering open to find mine through the orgasmic haze. One slow flutter of her lashes and my stomach is knotting, my groin tightening, my balls on the brink of explosion.
“Can you swallow?” I ask, my voice husky as my climax runs full speed up my thighs.
Winnie nods on my cock, her hands still gripping the belt as I jerk her down on me. The base of my cock thrums as the first rope of release sprays the back of her throat. She gags on my dick, but stays on it, nodding as I spray another few shots into her mouth.
“Fuuuuck,” I draw out, watching my cock flex and twitch as I fill her mouth and throat. When I’ve emptied myself fully, she takes her hands off the belt, placing them on my thighs. She pops off my cock, and swallows my cum, making me groan.
Using her tongue, she licks remnants of me from the corner of her mouth and gets to her feet, retrieving her heels as I stuff my cock in my trousers.
My mind is reeling from everything, but I’m alert enough to realize she hasn’t spoken. I put my belt through my pants and catch her by the wrist as she makes her way to the office door.
“Hey, wait, what’s—are you okay?”
She shakes her head, but lifts her chin, masking something she’s not ready to share. “You have somewhere to be. And I should go.”
“Winnie,” I say, putting backbone into her name. “What’s wrong?”
“Us,” she says simply. “We’re what’s wrong. I don’t want to be cliché but I don’t want to be right. Not yet.”
I know exactly what she’s saying, so I nod, collecting her face in my hands. I bring my mouth to hers, kissing her slow and deep, not giving a single fuck if my cock was just lodged in her throat, if traces of my cum linger on her tongue.
She needs reassurance. That’s what matters.
I break the kiss and am relieved to find her expression a little less sad. “Come over tonight, later. I owe you.”
She shakes her head, reaching back for the door handle. “Enjoy your plans. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She takes a few steps out the door then turns, delivering me the bratty smirk I’ve grown to love. “And anyway, I have a vibrator. I can finish myself off.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl.
She wiggles her fingers at me in a seductive wave. “Have a good night, Mr. Parker.”