Chapter 22 Winnie
WINNIE
“Well. That went horribly.” April throws her hands up.
“Sorry, Mom.” Kathy sniffles.
“Not you, Kathy. I know you tried your best,” Mom says soothingly.
“She didn’t try at all,” I say flatly.
“Winnie, you could have been more gracious. Fitz came all this way, and you were grumpy all evening,” Mom scolds.
I finish the rest of the wine as Dad and Fitz walk back in from the yard, deep in conversation.
“It’s a good thing we moved in when we did. I just think it’s too much yard for Winnie,” Dad is saying to Fitz, animated.
“Not that you can’t handle it, Creampuff.” Fitz smirks. “We know you’re a busy woman.”
“She is!” Dad beams. “She was talking about hiring a landscaper, but I told her no, no, we’ll take care of it, won’t we?” He pats Mom’s shoulder proudly.
I ignore them and focus on not dropping my spoonful of caramel blondie brownie and melting homemade ice cream onto the table.
“We should play a board game,” Mom chirps.
I shudder. The first thing I promised myself when I became an adult with my own bank account was that I would never play another family board game again.
“Can’t. I have to scrub these pans.”
“I’ll do it,” Fitz says, rolling his sleeves up like some kind of fantasy husband.
“No.” The word shoots out of me. Seeing him in my kitchen, sleeves rolled, a domesticated white-picket-fence boyfriend? Too much. “I think it’s time for you to go,” I tell him firmly.
“Throwing me out?” Fitz asks.
“Let’s make him a to-go plate.” Mom grabs a container.
“Fine. Here.” I shove a Tupperware into his hand. “Leave.”
My phone lights up: Loony Laura.
“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds!” she sings when I answer.
Loony Laura? Fitz mouths.
“She’s the bride,” I mutter.
“Ah. So I shouldn’t expect a goodbye blow job?” He smirks.
I choke. Kathy giggles.
“I got you, hot stuff,” Gran whispers to him. “Better run before Winnie chases you down with a cast iron.”
“Hi, Winnie!” Laura cries, waving furiously when I come back on FaceTime.
Carolina, on another screen, gives me a grimace of a smile as I head to my home office.
“Yes, we’re planning the wedding!” she trills. “I am so excited!” Laura waves her left hand in the camera. “I was telling Carolina that it’s a miracle that I was able to get away from him.” Laura giggles.
Carolina texts me without moving her face.
Carolina: This is the third time she has mentioned it.
“Oh my God, you don’t know what it’s like to fuck a pro athlete,” Laura gushes.
Actually, I do, Laura, but I keep that to myself.
“All he wants to do is have sex. Like four or five times a day. He can’t keep his hands off me. I do work out, of course. And I did get a boob job and a BBL. My baby says I’m hotter than the WAGs and not high-maintenance like that.” She tosses her hair smugly.
Carolina’s soul leaves her body.
“So, for the bachelorette party.” Laura giggles.
“I want it penis themed. Big ones. Like my man. Ooh, let’s go to Nashville.
What about Vegas?” She coos at someone off camera.
“Baby, we’re talking about you! Planning my bachelorette party.
No, it’s not Cat doing it—she’s a jealous skank.
It’s Winnie. Remember? She quit investment banking. ”
She turns back to the video. “You’re not seeing anyone, are you, Winnie?” The implication being that the answer better be no.
“Don’t worry. We won’t be bringing a significant other to your engagement party.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” she drawls out the word. “I am in my relationship season, you know. The more the merrier. Besides, no one you bring is going to upstage Nolan, are they?” She brays a laugh.
Carolina texts to me while keeping a straight face.
Carolina: If this is how she talks, I shudder to think what she sexts.
Carolina: If she says “big-dick energy,” I’m logging off the grid permanently.
“You good?” Carolina calls me after the bachelorette call from hell.
“I’m going to get drunk, go to sleep, and pretend I’m anywhere else.”
But I can’t sleep when I’m in the dark on my couch.
All the talk of pro athletes and sex has dug up memories I wanted to stay buried.
I stop myself before I can open up Knox’s social media accounts.
I have him blocked for a reason.
I stare at my phone screen, willing myself to be tired.
Do I need another glass of wine?
Probably.
The phone rings.
“Hello?”
No answer. Just heavy breathing.
I put it on speakerphone. Unfold the note.
My panties are immediately wet when I read the first line.
Got you a little gift.
Stand in front of the window.
Put it on.
I want to see your pussy when you bend over and fuck yourself with the little gift I got you.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
But I want it.
Because of last night.
Because of being around Fitz.
Because it’s been so long since I’ve had any man touch me like that, fuck me like that, use me like that.
In the box is a tangle of red string.
What?
I hold it up.
Realize… it’s lingerie. Barely counts as lingerie, but it’s there.
I’m standing on a cliff, the point of no return, and I definitely don’t like heights.
My pussy does, though.
In the silver light of the moon, I shuck the socks, pull off my shorts, chew my lips.
The breathing on the phone is steady.
I want to hear his voice. Want some encouragement. Want to hear him say I’m pretty.
My phone pings with a text message.
Unknown: Shy?
Unknown: Be a good girl and let daddy see what you look like.
Damn.
My pussy’s dripping down my legs. My nipples feel like they’re going to pop. I rub them through the thin sleep-shirt fabric.
I’m rewarded with the start of a growl in the breathing.
“You like that, don’t you?” I whisper in the dark, glad he can’t see my face.
I reach down, grab the hem, and pull the sleep shirt off my head. Then immediately kick myself when I don’t do it sexy enough.
I do not send nudes to men I date.
Not to mention, the few times I’ve been with a guy, I don’t let him see me standing up. It’s like those English gardens—you aren’t supposed to be able to see the whole thing. Need to leave some mystique.
But now I feel completely stripped, standing there in front of the window.
I grab the scraps of fabric from the box. If I practiced, I probably could put them on in a marginally sexy way, but I just settle for getting them on as quickly as possible.
Squirming as the thick string pulls against my throbbing clit, I pull the panties up. My stomach flip-flops when my own fingers brush my sensitive nipples to adjust the triangles of red lace over them.
Now what?
My pussy aches.
I don’t do displays of sexiness.
I’m not like those girls who really get off on their own sexuality.
Is he even watching?
Unknown: Your pussy making you all messy?
Unknown: Let me see you touch yourself.
The string of the thong—or whatever the technical term is—slides in the wet slit of my pussy as I tug it, the breath escaping out of my lips as I give in to the pleasure.
My head lolls back as I do it again, not quite ready to dip my fingers in, spread my legs for the disembodied voice.
I want him to think I’m hot, though. Wonder if he’s got his pants unzipped in the car or wherever he is.
Wonder if he’s hard watching me.
“You like that, daddy?” I moan softly in the dark, wanting to hear him answer back.
I pinch my nipple, rubbing it around in my hands as my fingers play on the edges of my slit.
My phone dings.
I grab it before I can catch myself, leaving a trail of wet across the screen.
Unknown: Turn around.
I lean over the coffee table and jump when my breasts—unsupported except for the little scraps of fabric—brush the cold glass top.
“Like this?” I moan, spreading my legs.
I reach back with one hand, spreading my ass, rubbing my pussy, imagining it’s him there with those thick gloves, spreading my pussy, that heavy breathing on my swollen pussy lips.
I give in, stroke my fingers all the way through my wet pussy, curl them around my clit.
I moan and pant into the phone speaker. “How’s that, daddy?”
God, I’m losing my mind.
But I need the release. I’m so fucking horny.
Unknown: I have one more surprise for you. In the liquor cabinet.
Every step I take is torture as the string pulls in my swollen pussy and the lace rubs across my sensitive tits.
There’s an appreciative sigh from the phone when I kneel down to fish in the back of the cabinet.
A long wooden box.
Fingers trembling, I unlatch it, tamping down the rational part of me.
I pour some of that cognac that Fitz was drinking earlier.
Swallow it, burning my throat.
In front of the window, I slide the lid of the box back quietly.
There’s a thick dark rod.
No, a dildo.
Shit, that’s big.
There’s another typewritten note inside.
Let me see how well you can take a cock.
P.S. Mine’s bigger than this.
I bite back a moan as I lift the heavy plastic out of the box.
Fuck myself? How?
“It’s too big,” I whimper.
I stretch out on the coffee table and spread my legs wide, wide for him watching in the dark. Push the tip of the plastic against my opening. “Shit.”
My hips roll as I work it into my wet cunt, that heavy breathing in my ear.
“It’s so big. I don’t think I can take you.”
Unknown: You won’t have a choice.
Damn.
I rub my clit, imagine him, those big hands, the mask as he breathes in my ear. His fingers on my clit as he slowly pushes that big cock inside of me.
My legs are splayed wide.
Every fold is displayed for him to watch me as I work my pussy, teasing, rubbing myself, my feet up in the air as I fist the dildo deep inside, willing myself to take the thick length.
I whimper. It’s halfway in me, and I stop, sweating and moaning.
Unknown: Keep going. Take all of it. I know your cunt can take it.
I roll over, balancing on my front as I kneel down, spreading my legs, trying to work the dildo in from behind, wiggling my ass, working my hips until I feel it thick, seated in me.
Shit.
I pant around it in my pussy.
I don’t think I’ve ever had anything this big in my cunt. Not even—
Shit.
I clap a hand over my mouth to stop the scream while inside of me, the dildo starts vibrating, some unseen mechanism rolling and pulsing inside of me.
My hips buck inadvertently as I reach down.
Unknown: Don’t touch
comes the command on the phone.
Tears pricking my eyes, I clutch the coffee table as the dildo pulses and rolls in my pussy.
Unknown: Wish I could fuck your ass while your pussy’s getting abused like this.
“Only if you tell me who you are,” I gasp out, and then I’m coming, biting my hand as the pleasure crests over me.
The gush of the orgasm leaks down my thighs, dripping onto the carpet.
I pant wildly, waiting until my breath evens out.
Shit, what the hell was that?
The dildo twitches again inside of me.
I moan. I know I’m going to wake up my mom, but I’m spent.
Unknown: Look at me. I want to see your face when you come.
“I can’t—”
I almost come right then and there as I force myself off of numb knees and sprawl back against the hard edge of the coffee table.
I spread my legs for him as the toy pulses inside of me.
I rub my nipples as the unseen commands bring me close to the edge.
“Make me come, make me come,” I whisper in the dark as I rub my pussy with two fingers, my other hand pinching my nipple, my huge breasts framed by the thin strings of the lingerie.
“Come inside and fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me,” I whisper over and over until I’m coming, listening to his breath hiss out from between his teeth.
Unknown: You’re the best porn I ever watched.
I call Carolina after I clean up in the bathroom.
“Oh my god, I was waiting for you to call!”
“Ugh, we are too close if you seem to know that I just had sex.” I flop down on the couch.
“Wait, you had sex with who?”
“Oh my god,” she says over and over as I describe—maybe with a little more relish than needed—how I spent my night. “That is, like, hot and also a felony. He was watching you? I wish I could see him. What if he’s ugly?”
“He’s my fantasy stalker.”
“What if it’s Knox?” Her voice drops.
“It’s not. It can’t be.”
My friend is silent for a moment. “I thought that’s what you were calling about, actually. I thought you saw the news.”
“What news?”
“Dude, Knox got traded to Seattle. Knox is here.”