Big Daddy

Chapter 27

chapter twenty-seven

quincey

I didn’t want her driving tearfully and emotionally, so I told her to take the town car home and I took her car.

It was a good choice for her. But not a good one for me.

Her scent lives everywhere inside this vehicle and my heart can’t take it. Not right now. I drive through town, back toward the office, and have the VIP valet park me. Riding the elevator up, memories of just an hour ago flash through my mind.

I just had her in her new office, on her new desk. And now… she’s home and I’m here.

The elevator doors open, and I ignore the office full of people and beeline to the back. Once in my office, Kennedy comes in, not needing to knock since I left the door open. I never leave the door open but my preoccupations consume me so much that I break my routine.

“Back so soon?” Kennedy asks as she slips some folders onto my desk.

Normally I’d say, I don’t know, I’m here aren’t I , but today, I don’t have it in me. I meet her eyes. “My daughter is pregnant.”

Ken’s face twists with concern, her mouth opening and closing without words. “Are—you’re happy or…” she volleys her head side to side just slightly. “Not happy?”

“Happy,” I confirm, my eyes going to the framed photo of us on the desk. “Very happy.” And yet, my face reads disdain, but Kennedy knows me well enough to not ask.

“Well let me know if you need anything,” she offers, but on her way out, I stop her.

She knew the old me. She hasn’t met the man I’ve become and am actively working on. “Hey, Ken, thanks for everything, you know, all the time.”

Silence.

“What did you think of the office?” I ask her as I tip my head in the general direction of Winnie’s new office.

“Beautiful,” she says slowly. “You okay?”

I open my scotch drawer and pull out a glass and the bottle. “That’s Winnie’s office for her new business.” I pour a drink then take it, appreciative of the numbing burn. “She’s integrated with Parker & Pen in an effort to retain clients leaving marriages and starting businesses.”

Ken peeks out the cracked door then looks back at me. “You told me already. I saw her work, when she was working on that graduate project.” She nods knowingly. “Good stuff.”

“The best.”

Ken goes thoughtful for a moment and before she leaves she says, “This office could use more Winnies.”

The door closes, and I’m left knowing somehow exactly what she means. More Winnies would make the world a better place. To fuck up because you’re trying to love so many people, remain loyal to so many… I shake my head, angry at myself for being so angry with her.

From my pocket, my cell rings. Brielle’s name fills the screen but I don’t feel like talking, so I don’t accept the call. I can’t help but look at the photo on my desk, much younger versions of ourselves, before my walls were completely up and stoniness took over.

Brielle was always such a rule follower, and a good girl in general. She tried hard in school, she kept her room clean—so clean that our housekeepers often joked that they got paid for doing very little, as Brielle often cleaned the home in her downtime. She was always so good, and I rode her so hard.

At the time, riding her hard, in my mind, equated to her having a better life. If I was tough on her, she would learn to work hard and be strong, both things she’d need to be to make it in this world. Without her mother, I thought she’d especially need to toughen up and learn that life is unfair and the only way to compensate is hard, hard work. Financial security. A fruitful career.

My office chair creaks as I tip forward, collecting the silver frame in my hands. Looking more closely, I see Brielle’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. In fact, nothing about her body language or expression says “I love my dad” or “I love my life.” Her face is the depiction of endurance, withstanding, getting the fuck by. My stomach sinks as I replace the frame on my desk.

She didn’t need to be ridden hard and disciplined and micromanaged. She needed to be hugged. To be heard and loved. To have warm arms wrap her up and assuage her fears, calm her worries, soften the sharp pains of grief that intermittently stab anyone who has lost a loved one.

She needed a father.

And I wasn’t there, not in the way I should have been. My priorities were out of whack and when I look back on all of it, I can’t help but think that I should have been seeing Dr. Wilder back then.

I think about Brielle confiding in Winnie, and how I reacted as if she were trying to be manipulative and divisive. That she’d hand over a piece of huge information to one of the only people she’s ever loved under the guise of destroying her friend and myself.

Why would I ever think Brielle would intentionally do that?

Because I would do that. Because I have been, for many years, the type of man that does whatever he needs to achieve what he wants. I’m not even talking about the lawyer in me, either. The man I let myself become was a bully. Arrogant. Borderline spiteful.

Of course Brielle shared the news with Winnie. They’ve been best friends for years and who came between them? I did. I threatened the best relationship both of them have ever had. All she was trying to do was feel like she didn’t lose her friend. And Winnie, a woman who essentially raised herself due to tragedy in her youth, was merely doing the same. Hanging on, finding hope, wishing for peace with her best friend.

It doesn’t matter that conversations between all of us could have been prevented today. That dialoguing with me over the secret could have saved us a week of agony. There’s no question in my mind whether both Brielle and Winnie are thinking about all the ways this could have gone down better. Of course they are.

The truth is, none of this would have happened if I would have been a better father and a better partner.

This is on me.

All of it.

And I plan to make it fucking right.

I lift the handset and hit the speed dial for Kennedy. She answers not a moment later. “This is Kennedy.”

“You know,” I say, thinking aloud. “In the past I probably would have said, ‘I know this is Kennedy because I called you.’”

She snorts. “Yeah, you would have.”

I click my tongue, still staring at the photo of myself and my daughter. “I’m… I will be working on that. And I’m sorry for being an asshole for years. That’s a me thing, not a you thing.”

Kennedy’s laugh is so organic that I can’t help but crack a smile, even though I know it’s at my own expense. “Oh, I know it’s a you thing. But…” she trails off, her laughter, too. “Thank you.”

I clear my throat. “I need a big favor.”

The sound of the phone ringing in my ear has my gut tight, sweat forming above my brows. She tried calling me and I, like I always have, ignored her. Why should she answer now? I don’t blame her if she?—

“Dad?” Brielle picks up, out of breath as if she ran to answer it.

“Brielle, do you have a few minutes?” I feel guilty even asking because I know I don’t deserve it. This was her big news day, and I made it about me. Jesus, women really are right about men.

“Yeah, just, let me—hey, it’s my dad. I’m gonna pop into the office, get the sunlight up and mount those studio lights up. I want them to be cool, up to 8500k. I’ll be back.” Heels click and voices whirr, and my chest tightens, listening to my daughter own her work space with confidence and authority. She has become the woman I dreamed of in so many ways and yet, it’s all her. She made it despite me, not because of me. And I see that now.

“Dad, listen?—”

“No,” I start, my tone stern and unrelenting, giving way to more emotion than I had intended. “Brielle, don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’ve been the one doing it wrong for years.”

The line floods with tension-filled silence.

“I thought… I thought what you needed was a stern hand to keep you focused, that if I allowed you to grieve for too long, you’d lose ambition and drive and… I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what I thought anymore. Because now, looking back, it all seems so stupid.”

Brielle sighs. “I know you always wanted the best for me, even if you were overbearing. And an asshole most of the time.”

“A father should never be an asshole to his child, Brielle. I am, from the bottom of my heart, so sorry. I hold so much regret.”

“I know you do, Dad.”

I shake my head, sifting my hands through my hair, pulling at the ends as fire spreads through my body, leaving me uneasy and anxious. “It’s not fair, the way I raised you.”

“I had everything I ever wanted,” she argues.

“You didn’t have the father you deserved.”

Silence stretches between us again before she says quietly, “I do now. Dr. Wilder is helping us. And the truth? Winnie is changing you.”

“She has,” I admit, my chest softening at the sound of her name. I miss her. I devoured her like an animal then exploded on her and left. Guilt swarms my collar, leaving my neck hot.

“I shouldn’t have told Winnie. I realize that asking her to keep something from you puts us all in terrible positions.”

“I know why you did. I understand it, Brielle. It was me who needed to understand and see it from your eyes, and hers too. And I have. I understand it now. And you don’t need to be sorry.”

In the background, the door opens. “You okay, B?” Lance asks.

“Tell him I’m sorry about lunch,” I tell my daughter, then say, “you know what? I’ll call them tonight. I feel like an asshole.”

She laughs, and the sound of it gives me hope that we’ll be okay. “Okay, call them. But have you called Winnie yet?”

“No. And I’m not going to,” I tell her, checking my cell phone to see if Kennedy has texted yet. Three minutes ago she did, saying everything is ready. “I’m going home now. And I know she’s there. I need to apologize in person.”

“She feels so bad about lying to you for a week,” Brielle says, “and I feel bad because it was my fault. I plan on asking Dr. Wilder if I was subconsciously trying to sabotage your relationship, by the way.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Brielle. You were trying to hold onto the most meaningful relationship you had, and I was threatening that.”

Brielle must rise, because I hear her heels clacking through her office, followed by a door opening, then more clickety clack. “I gotta go Dad. I’m running this thing on my own today. But I love you and I am sorry, even though you don’t think I should be, I am. Okay? Truly.”

“Thank you for being the best daughter that I’ve never deserved. And by the way, I am so excited to watch you become a mother. You’re going to be great.”

“Don’t make me cry, Grandpa.”

“Everything you asked for,” Kennedy says, swiping the back of her hand along the traces of sweat on her forehead. I glance behind her to the porch and driveway full of roses, a dozen paid movers standing by. The night Winnie was drunk, she told me that her dream man would profess his love for her in a room full of roses. I may have already told her I love her, but I don’t think there’s a limit to how often I can show her.

“Thank you, Kennedy. I appreciate all of your hard work.”

She nods, then stares at the closed front door a minute before her eyes lift to mine, visibly nervous. “You’re filling your own home with roses,” she states.

I smile. “Winnie will be my wife one day. These roses are to apologize to her for being an asshole.”

Kennedy smirks. “I thought you two were an item but… I gaslighted myself into thinking I was seeing things that weren’t there.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t do relationships. Not that I’m aware of at least,” she says, looking back at the sea of soft crimson petals. “But this is you in love, huh?”

“This is me head over fucking heels.” A thought crosses my mind, so I add, “But she earned that job and that office. That wasn’t just because I love her and want to see her thrive. That’s because she’s talented, works hard and deserves it.”

Kennedy squints. “That goes without saying.”

I nod. “Thank you. And thank you again for everything. Take the rest of the day off if you’d like.”

“I would very much like but Pen is holding a new client meeting in an hour and a half and I think we both know that running a meeting on his own is a terrible idea.”

She works her way through the roses, down the porch steps to the Wheel Get You waiting for her. “Good luck. But something tells me you don’t need it. Roses are a girl’s best friend.”

I cock a brow as I put my hand on the knob and push open my front door, the scent of Winnie trailing out, making my chest tight. My slacks, too. “I thought that was diamonds?”

She winks. “Those, too.”

I wait for her Wheel Get You to pull away, and enter the house, leaving the door open. The delivery men know what they’re supposed to do, and they know they need to be quiet. I correctly assumed that Winnie would be tucked away in bed for the rest of the day after the exhaustive and emotionally destructive lunch I put her through.

As I head down the hall, I loosen my tie and try to calm my nerves. I’m not used to being nervous. Even in the courtroom, I’m filled with adrenaline, never nerves. I hate being nervous.

At the master bedroom door, I stop and turn, looking down the hall to the open space, watching the men walk quietly with armfuls of roses. They place vases on the ground, on the countertops, on chairs, they toss petals—roses are everywhere. It’s perfect.

Knocking softly first, I enter, closing the door behind me. In the middle of our bed, Winnie is tucked beneath the duvet, her knees to her chest, curls strewn over my pillow. She’s facing the wall, but turns and sits up when I cross the room to the edge of the bed.

“Quincey?” she asks, scrambling to right herself under the mountain of covers. Her eyes are red rimmed, her nose pink, too. She gets to her knees and moves toward me across the mattress but stops, her chin trembling. “I’m so sorry about everything,” she starts, unsure and nervous. I fucking hate seeing her this way and more so, I hate that I made her this way.

I take her face in my hands and stare down into her tearful eyes. “It’s my fault. Everything is my fault. I should have been a better father, and a better partner. I should have listened more and talked less, and had I done those things, we wouldn’t be here.”

“No,” Winnie starts, attempting to shake her head in my grasp, but I don’t let her. I place my thumb over her full lips, gently silencing her.

“Yes. Brielle told you not to hurt me or break us apart but she told you because she loves you. And you’re her best friend. And she felt like I almost took you from her. She was trying to save one of her most important relationships. And you were doing the same. It was never about me. It was about the two of you trying to hold onto the love you’d built, and I made it about me, because that’s what I do.”

I lean down and seal the admission with a kiss, sweeping my tongue along hers, my skin sizzling as she moans for me. “You wanted to do right by Brielle, and I get that. I’m sorry you were in a position where you felt you had to choose. That won’t ever happen again.” I kiss her again, and she loops her arms around my neck, her fingers playing with the hair that falls over my collar. My cock thickens.

“I’ve missed you, baby. I’ve missed you so much. I was going out of my skull all week,” I tell her in between kisses. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pressuring you about Brielle, for not taking the time to understand that you love and need her the same way you love and need a partner.”

She nods, tears slipping through her thick, dark lashes. “Have you talked to Brielle?”

“Yes,” I tell her, “And we’re going to continue therapy but I told her the same thing. I told her this issue starts and ends with me. Okay? I mean that. You have nothing to be sorry about and neither does she.”

“I could have just said, hey, I’m keeping a secret for Brielle, I can’t tell you, don’t push it,” she starts, shaking her head, guilt eating up every free thought, I can see it in her eyes. I slide one hand to her throat and grip it with force, taking her eyes by storm.

“Don’t. Don’t take any blame here. Had you done that, I would have harassed you until you told me. Okay? Then you’d feel terrible, like you chose me over her. So don’t play that game. This is my fault. Not yours. Not my daughter’s. Mine .”

She nods, and slides her palms down my bicep and forearm until her hands cover my hand on her throat. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I ate you out this morning,” I remind her with a smirk.

She shakes her head, her entire body breaking out in a needy tremble. “I’ve felt lost without you this week. I don’t care if we had ten minutes together this morning. And anyway, mid-morning feels like years ago.”

She plucks my fingers free from her neck and falls back into the bed, still wearing the dress she had on this morning. Spreading her knees, she pulls the hemline back, exposing her bare pussy to me. “I obeyed.” Reaching out, she slowly drags a fingertip around her blooming clit. “No panties.”

I adjust the tie at my throat, releasing it, and tossing it aside. “I’m still hungry.”

Winnie giggles, and just as I’m above to dive in, I remember the roses. The grand gesture. I outstretch my hand to her. “C’mon. I’ll feast in a minute.”

Her brows pull together, but she slides her palm into mine and lets me gently pull her off the bed, to her feet. At the doorway, I stop us and face her.

“You told me once that the man you fall in love with will fill a room with roses, profess his love to you and fuck your brains out. Do you remember that?”

Dark curls frame her face, and the midday light drips through the sky window, giving her the most erotic and angelic look. I can’t believe this woman is mine.

“I remember,” she nods. I open the door and take her by the waist, guiding her out in front of me, toward the living space. I blink my eyes at how bright the room is. Roses everywhere, more than I even expected.

Winnie stops in her tracks, looking down at a velvety petal sticking out from between her toes. Never occurred to me to think of feet sexually until Winnie, and now, as she flexes her toes and the petal moves, I get brick fucking hard.

She looks up, surveying the space again with tears in her eyes. “You did this?”

“I told Kennedy and she paid the florists in our area, and then a crew of men to get them in here,” I admit.

“You remembered I said that and you orchestrated this, for me,” she says breathlessly, spinning to face me.

“I love you, Winnie.” I scoop her up, and hold her to my chest, her feet tangling in a bouquet of roses. “Thank you for loving me, too.”

Tears stain her cheeks but she smiles, whispering, “Take me to our room now,” she nearly pleads, dropping her voice when she adds, “Big Daddy.”

“No,” I retort with a smirk. “You’re going to look beautiful surrounded by red roses as you’re coming on my cock and crying out my name. I have to see that. It’s too beautiful to pass up.”

“Put me down then,” she quips, wiggling against my chest. God I’ve missed this—the feel of her in my arms, her breath flanking my lips, her curls tickling my cheek. I lower her to her feet and watch with rapt focus as she does a slow little strip tease, lifting her dress over her head while swaying amongst the sea of roses.

“Bet you wish I had little panties on right about now, so I could yank them off and shove them in your mouth, hmm?” she teases, lifting the dress over her head to expose the succulent terrain of her body. My mouth waters and my groin pounds, my cock’s needs echoing through my veins, filling me with ferocity.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the panties I tore from her body only this morning, the same ones I stuffed into her mouth when she came. She didn’t notice but I pocketed them as I wiped my cum from the floor. I’ve been touching them all day. Rubbing the satin between my thick fingers beneath the cover of my slacks, my own dirty little secret. It made me hard every time I did it.

“Big Daddy,” she gasps playfully in a way that makes my dick weep for her. “You pervert.”

“Hmm,” I groan, working the buttons of my shirt in a vertical line until I reach my belt. “And you’re this pervert’s little slut, isn’t that right, baby?”

She drops to her knees in front of me, opening her mouth wide. I stare down the pink void of her throat while I pull my cock from my slacks.

“I want my cum in your pussy, but I can’t resist this mouth,” I groan, sliding my fingers into her silky curls, tipping her head back. Her hands reach for my cock but I shake my head. “Hands at your sides, baby. This mouth is mine to fuck.”

She places her hands at her sides, fingertips lost in red rose petals.

With one hand still holding her hair off her face, I curl the other at the base of my cock, dragging my head along the curve of her lips, leaving them glistening.

“Lick your lips,” I tell her, watching her eyes flutter closed as she discovers the precum I gifted her. “Now open up.”

Her eyes trained on mine as I slide my cock onto her tongue has me clenching my ass. “Fuck, baby, you are so hot.”

Her lips seal around my length, color draining from my knuckles as I intensify my grip, pushing her down. Her gurgles and gasps have my balls thrumming. Up and down, I move her head on my cock until it feels too damn good. Pulling her off, I place my palms on either side of her face, resting my thumbs on the hollows of her cheeks. “Ready?” I ask, her eyes still on mine. She nods and I thrust my hips forward, plunging my cock deep into her tight little throat.

“Mmm,” she coos around my cock, saliva threading between her bottom lip and the floor, turning the bright petals the color of wine. Fucking hot.

I work my hips and keep my eyes on her as she blinks up at me, tears running free as she sucks me, letting me fuck her throat. “Fuck, baby,” I groan, pulling her off my dick because I need a break.

She smirks up at me. “I never thought I’d want to be anyone’s slut, but now I think I’d die if I couldn’t be yours.” Holy fuck. In forty-eight years, no one has ever told me they’d die if they couldn’t be my slut and misogyny be damned, hearing her say that is fucking hot.

Bending down, my cock sticking out like a flag pole, I yank her off the ground and make my way through the sea of roses to the kitchen counter where I set her down. She opens her legs for me, her saliva from sucking me glistening on her tits.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I tell her, lining my cock up at her soaked entrance. God she’s drenched for me, and it makes my chest tighten at the sight. I plunge deep inside of her, our groans of relief commingling as I tip her back and suck her bare breast into my mouth. Even in a sheen of sweat she tastes sweet, like cherries and vanilla.

Winnie’s back arches as my hips rove between her spread legs, and nothing has ever felt so right. I’ve never been so deep.

“Fuck,” I groan, thrusting, thrusting, moaning. “You feel so perfect. You’re so fucking tight.”

Her ankles link at my tailbone as she lifts her head off the counter, roses stuck in her hair, her cheeks flush from arousal and exertion. I knew fucking in these roses would be goddamn perfect.

“Tight for you Big Daddy,” she whimpers, adding, “but so empty. I’m so, so empty.” I bring my face to hers, leaving her breast for the time being. I could suck them all day I swear to God.

“Say that again,” I tell her, my voice hoarse and rough.

“I’m so empty,” she moans, wiggling her cunt down on my cock as I attempt to give myself a minute. “I hope you fill me up. I hope you put a baby in me, Big Daddy.” She drags her tongue along the curve of my earlobe, sending fire down my spine, my balls fucking pounding.

Standing up straight, my hair falling over my eyes, sticking in the sweat on my brow, I thrust into her, memorizing the sight of her bare body engulfed in roses. Her tits bounce with each thrust, plucky little nipples staring back at me, begging me to return to them. But I keep fucking her with my eyes on hers, loving the way she boldly holds eye contact.

Her breathing intensifies as her nostrils flare, and once her eyes flutter closed I know I’ve got her right there. Another thrust and she’s clenching all around me, her wet pussy milking my cock for everything she can get.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, grabbing her breasts as she orgasms, electricity snaking through me at the feel of her. “Fill me up, Big Daddy,” she breathlessly begs, “please. Please, oh god, please,” she cries.

“Here it comes,” I groan as I clench my stomach and slow my strokes, glancing down at the place where my body infiltrates hers. The trunk of my cock is coated in cream, and the sight of her cum on my cock sends me over the finish line. “Take it, Winnie, take all of it,” I groan as the first shot tears out of me. She bites her lip as the second and third shots flood her walls and channel, and I start to move my hips, fucking it into her as I fill her more and more.

“Take it and keep it, you want to, don’t you? You’re my little cum slut, aren’t you, Win? Hmm?” I whisper, sliding my hands to her inner thighs, keeping her spread wide as I shove the last of my load deep inside her fertile cunt.

She only hums, propping herself up onto her elbows to peer down where we connect. The trunk of my cock throbs, bobbing gently as I empty myself into her entirely. Reaching down, she strokes the base of my cock before bringing her fingers to her lips, pushing them onto her tongue with a soulful moan.

“Fuck, Win,” I exhale, still slowly pumping because I never want to leave this warm, tight heaven. “You look beautiful in these roses.”

I can’t help but loop one of her curls around my finger, giving it a tug.

“You like sucking my tits,” she says, gripping me as she slowly scoots back, taking me out of her. Cum spills onto the rose petals, splashing up her thighs and onto the counter. There’s so much of it that she laughs.

“It was a long week,” I comment.

“I noticed when you came all over my office floor.” She cocks a brow as she slowly starts working my softening, sticky cock.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my brain still woozy from the incredible afternoon and intense and beautiful orgasm. Never thought an orgasm could be beautiful but this one… watching her writhe in an ocean of vibrant rose petals. Fuck me.

She releases me, scooting back further, a salacious smile twisting her lips. She places her bare feet on the counter, moving her toes through the cum that spilled between us.

“Giving you the Winnie Collins special,” she teases, extending her legs to bring her feet to each side of my cock.

My cock stiffens at the sight. Okay, so I’m a fucking foot guy.

“I don’t like that those men thought about you doing this to them,” I groan, her FeetFans site flashing through my mind as a spike of jealousy irrationally pirouettes through me.

She giggles as she curves her toes along the ribbed crown of my cockhead, making my head fall back. “ Fuuuck ,” I groan, surprised at how good it feels already. I can’t usually pull the trigger back-to-back, but with Winnie, anything feels possible with my cock. She’s that tempting and gorgeous.

“Thought about, that’s the key word. Thought. Not did. I never physically did anything with anyone. Just videos, calls and photos. You know this Big Daddy, don’t get all jealous now,” she chides as she slides the balls of her feet slowly down my shaft, kneading my heavy balls with her toes for a moment before working her way back up.

“Fuck,” I groan again, suddenly incapable of anything but the one word.

“You can do it. You can come again for your cum slut, can’t you Big Daddy?” she purrs, dark curls going everywhere as she tips her head forward, locking her eyes on my dick. Fuck, this whole thing is so hot, even though this is round three for the day, I don’t think I’m gonna make it long.

“I love your dirty fucking mouth,” I growl, thrusting my hips, sending my cock between her cum-slick feet. “I love that you love being my slut,” I admit, pumping faster as she works her feet around my crown, moving the pad of one over my slit. Her feet are so soft and she works my cock so well. “ Fuuuck ,” I groan, yet again reduced to the singular expression at her helm.

“Big Daddy’s little cum slut,” she moans as she begins writhing in the roses, petals falling over her breasts and throat as she fucks my cock harder with her feet. Petals cling to her curls and eyelashes as she draws them in over herself, looking like a snow angel in all the crimson. Her toes knead my balls, and my periphery blurs as yet another orgasm crests. My stomach clenches and my ass tightens, and as if she senses it’s coming, she moves her toes over my cockhead again and again, teasing me in the eleventh hour.

“Winnie…” I moan, and just as her toes move down my shaft, the first ribbon of cum belts free, coating the petals on the counter, splashing onto her still bare cunt. “Shit,” I groan as she continues working my cock with the arches of her feet, milking me for shot after shot of hot, pearly cum. When the last drop oozes from my head, journeying down the throbbing veins on my shaft, she steals her feet away, moving them through the new load on the counter.

“That was hot,” she breathes, cheeks flushed.

I shake my head. “Next time, I wanna record that. Fuck me, baby,” I sigh, tucking my sticky dick away as I move to the sink, gathering a rag and dampening it. First, I clean her up, then I clean up the counter, throwing away the soiled roses and petals. Still naked but now standing, Winnie grins mischievously.

“What?”

She presses her hands beneath her chin, blinking. “I wanna go see my new office again!”