Chapter 21
chapter twenty-one
winnie
“I’m trying!” I cry, blotting the bath towel beneath my nose.
Dante rubs a hand up and down my back as a large thudding comes down on our front door. He leaves me to let Quincey in, and while I never wanted him to see my apartment, I have no energy to preserve my ego.
“She’s been crying since she came home,” Dante tells Big Daddy as he filters into the small bedroom, immediately sitting next to me and pulling me into his lap. I loop my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest, his strong thighs cradling my backside, immediately easing some of my anxiety just being with him this way.
“Home,” Big Daddy snorts. “This isn’t her home. She belongs with me.”
I don’t have the energy to fight it. I don’t say no. I spent the night with him last night and even in my turmoil—in our turmoil—still, I felt safe and loved. I never knew how much I craved that feeling, and I hate that it’s come at such a huge cost, but still, I won’t throw it away.
I know in this situation, as the bad girl who fucked her bestie’s dad, that I should push him away. I should say no. That’s what books and movies tell us the bad girl does—she strips the joy out of her life to punish herself for being bad. After all, bad girls pay the price.
Not me.
I love Big Daddy. I am in love with him. No two ways about it. And it is truly sad that I had to fall for someone as inconvenient as him.
But I love her, too.
I want them both, and I don’t want anyone to trade one for another. But if it comes down to it, if the only way Brielle will have her father is without me, then I’ll leave.
Right now, though? I can’t imagine shunning the man I love. I’m shooting for the stars, knowing I may end up with nothing. Go big or go home, right?
“I don’t want her to hate you,” I tell him, unable to open my eyes, the swelling from an hour of tears finally taking its toll. Big Daddy reaches into his pocket, snatching his money clip from his back pocket. With his arms wrapped around me, he pulls a few bills out and hands them to Dante. “A Diet Coke from the corner store.”
Dante agrees, and after the front door closes, Big Daddy carries me into the bathroom, sitting me on the edge of the tub. Crouching between my legs, he massages my knees and stares into my eyes. “It’s complicated with Brielle, but that’s got nothing to do with you, and I know that you know that. I won’t lie and say this is going to be easy, but we will get through it, okay?”
I nod, and let the litany of worries run from my lips as he smooths a cold washcloth over my cheeks. “What if you get tired of me and we did all of this for nothing? If you dump me in a few months, we’ll have put Brielle through?—”
Big Daddy scoops me up, leaving me standing on my feet as he crashes his mouth against mine, backing me up into the wooden towel rack against the wall. “Tired of you? Tired of you? ” he draws the second question out, smoothing a hand over my breast, sinking his fingers into my hip with his other. “Your smart mouth keeps me intrigued, and your big heart keeps me honest. You call me on my shit, you have dreams, you’re intelligent. Talented.” His lips dust mine as he slips his hand beneath my sweats, rubbing me over my panties. “You’re a fucking knockout, Winnie.”
My legs spread of their own volition as I slide down the wall, needy and emotional. He snakes his arms around my hips, spinning me, facing me forward then bending me over the sink. The metallic clink of his belt and zipper falling has my heart racing and my breasts literally aching.
His crown breaches my pussy, and a delicious burn tears through me as he sinks every last veiny inch inside. His moans blanket me, leaving me achy, covered in bumps and sweat. “This is not temporary,” he warns, pulling out and sinking in, thrusting tortuously slow as he reaches around, rubbing my clit.
“This, baby, is forever. This clit,” he rasps, rubbing me in tight circles, driving me mad. “It belongs to me. You belong to me,” he groans, immediately pulling his cock out of me to spin me around. He falls to his knees. I sift my fingers through his hair and watch as he sucks my clit, groaning and moaning how good I taste and how hard he is. A moment later, I’m coming into his mouth as he eats me through my climax, stroking himself as I unravel. It’s hot. It’s the hottest thing ever. It’s so hot, we ignore the metal clink of Dante lowering the can of Diet Coke outside the bathroom door.
Big Daddy, with my pussy still shining on his lips, sets me on the edge of the sink and spreads my thighs, sinking back inside me. His cock stretches me, flooding my hips with a delicious burn as my head falls back. I moan through the painfully erotic adjustment, begging myself not to come again so fast.
His fingers curl around the back of my neck as his other hand kneads my breast beneath my t-shirt, his eyes locked on the place where we’re joined. “You’re mine to fuck. These tits are mine to squeeze and suck,” he groans, palming my tit as he slams his big cock into me, causing the mirror to rattle against the tile wall. Big Daddy lowers his mouth to my breast, sucking my nipple onto his tongue, hard, with power. My back arches and my cunt tingles, loving the way he worships me. This isn’t just sex. This is worship.
“These tits will feed my babies, this pussy will be where I put my aching dick every goddamn day,” he says, moving his mouth from my nipple to my lips, kissing me with fervor. “This mouth will take my cock, this mouth will take my cum, this mouth is mine, just like the rest of it, isn’t that right, Winnie? You’re mine? Say it… say you’re mine.”
My head falls forward and I stare at his veiny cock plunging in and out of me, scrambling my thoughts, making my stomach clench and my core pulse. “Yes,” I moan, my second climax coming in hot. “I’m yours, Big Daddy. I’m yours.”
His hips pick up the pace, my words flooding him with a burst of adrenaline. A strand of perfect dark hair falls over his forehead, but I’m gripping the edge of the sink so hard I can’t push it back. He looks sexy this way, glowing from sweat while wildly fucking me.
“And you own me, Winnie. This cock, it’s yours. This mouth, it belongs to you. You want a hug? A dinner? To own a building? Take a trip? Get your pussy eaten? Your ass fucked?” he leans down, his hips still roving perfect figure eights between my spread legs as he lowers his voice to add, “Your tits full of milk for my babies?” He slams into me, making my toes curl and my eyes roll. “I am the answer to all of your questions, Winnie. I am yours.”
“Fuck, Big Daddy!” I scream, my pussy spasming violently all around his dick as I come, my orgasm so powerful I nearly lose consciousness.
He holds himself deep inside me as my body throbs all around him, taking every ounce of pleasure from him before it’s over. A moment passes and he slides out, a trail of cum spilling from my open legs onto the floor.
“Fucking hot,” I breathe, staring down at my used pussy and the mess on the floor.
With two thick fingers, he collects cum from my thighs and pushes it inside me, groaning at the discovery of himself inside me. “This is where it belongs.”
I lick my lips, my brain almost completely useless from the back-to-back orgasms. Almost, I said. “I’m not—you know I haven’t been consistent with my pill.” I stare into his unreadable eyes, trying to sort out if he’s angry. He’s got a filthy mouth and clearly likes talking about knocking me up, but that could be a kink, something in the moment that gets him off. It may not be real, in which case, we need to start being responsible.
I nearly lose my footing when I realize that I would be happy to have a baby with Quincey Parker, despite the fact his only child is my age, that he’s probably too old to start over, that my friendship with his daughter is in the air, that his relationship with her isn’t much better, how I haven’t started my career and just barely finished graduate school. No signs in my life point toward it being the right time to have a baby, but then again, one thing I’ve learned in life is that if you wait until you’re ready to do something, you’ll never do it.
“They have Plan B at the corner market, where you sent Dante for the Coke.”
“Diet Coke,” he corrects, “because it’s your favorite.” He wants me to know that he’s picking up the small things because they’re important to me, and I love him even more for it. That part, though, the whole “love him even more” thing? I’m not ready to cough that up quite yet.
“This was not the first time I fucked you bare,” he adds when I remain silent, in awe of this man who hides his care under layers of grouchiness and complexity. “Anyway, you don’t need a Plan B.”
All I can do is blink at him while my head floods with random thoughts. He has an entire life established and no part of him is or has panicked about us. Hell, his most important relationship is on the line and when I came to him in tears, he held me all night without expressing a moment of his own strife. The way he just took me over the sink speaks volumes about the way we make each other feel, and yet, as I stare at him now, I’m so overwhelmed I can’t even begin to articulate it.
He's fantastic, but patience is not one of his strong suits. After an eye roll, he grabs my hip and nips my nose, pulling back to eye me with caution. “What’s the matter with you, hmm? You’ve gone… catatonic on me, baby.” He tucks his dick away, righting his pants and belt.
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 like fucking 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 gonna fuck 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 out from 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’re in 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.
“Quincey!” I shout.
“That’s even an old dude’s name,” Luke mutters to Dante, causing Quincey to spin and face them, eyes narrowed.
“Get out.”
Dante starts to get to his feet but Luke halts him. “This is our room. We don’t have to get out.” He smirks. “You get out, grandpa. And stop upsetting our girl.”
In the split second before Quincey reacts, alarm bells sound in my brain. Quincey is not a grandpa and he is very territorial, and those are two offenses I know he won’t let slide. A moment later, Big Daddy has sailed across the room and yanked Luke to his feet, holding him by his collar, pressing him into the wall. A framed photo of Buzz’s girlfriend from Home Alone falls to the floor, along with some concert tickets and a beaded necklace.
“She is not your girl. She’s mine, and she’s coming home with me, kiddo .”
A smirk sweeps my lips. I like Luke, but damn that was a burn I wasn’t expecting. Big Daddy drops him to the floor and returns to my closet, a thin sheen of angry sweat glistening on his forehead. “Wear this,” he says finally, yanking a plain black dress from the closet.
I take the dress and step into the bathroom, Big Daddy right on my heels as I close the door. I don’t bother telling him that Luke is my friend and means no harm. I know in his current mood, he’s not going to hear anything. Instead, I smirk at him as I lift off my t-shirt and shove down my sweats, sliding into the dress, feeding my arms through, tugging it over me. He groans, his anger morphing into desire before my eyes.
“You said you’ve come to understand that you were wrong about Brielle and her relationship,” I groan as I shimmy my way into the dress still.
“I did. Which is what I learned tonight on the drive here, after I was shouted at for quite some time during the ceremony.” He watches me and my heart thumps madly, realizing… he is changing. He’s evolving, for Brielle and for me.
“You look goddamn perfect in that dress,” he says, collecting his stuff from the floor, shoving his money into his pocket. After a glance at his watch he says, “We have to go.”
I lean toward the sink, grabbing my compact from the shelf above. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the car. I have to put my makeup on.”
Big Daddy closes the lid on the toilet and sits down, watching me. “I’m not leaving you. Ever again. So,” he says, glancing at the glittering gold watch adorning his wrist. “You have nine minutes and then I’m carrying you out of here, no matter how much makeup is on or not.”
Even though I’m nervous to face Brielle, when we get into the car nine minutes later, I can’t deny the flutter of happiness in my gut. No matter what happens, we’ll get through it.
We have to.