10. Chapter Ten #3
How could I possibly want more than this?
And yet I did. God help me, I did.
McKenna broke the kiss with a grin. “We’ve got an hour or two before checkout time, yeah?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m just now realizing—I never got to fuck Tom in the boots…”
I liked that idea. And I had an even better one.
“Babygirl. Go take a shower.”
Bailey blinked. I could tell it was the last thing she expected. “What, Daddy?”
“Both of you need one, and I don’t want McKenna’s boots getting wet,” I said, already reaching for the coed.
“Leave the door open—I want you listening. Not touching yourself, because Daddy didn’t give you permission.
” I glanced over at her with a smirk. “Once I’m done with her, we’ll both join you—and McKenna can do to you what you did to her pussy last night. ”
It was a command and a promise. Me forcing her to deny herself—and rewarding her for it in the near-future. Of course the girl who wanted to be my full-time submissive treated the suggestion like Christmas morning.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, her eyes bright with lust. “Will you two be loud for me? I really want to hear it when you cum inside McKenna…”
“Something tells me that won’t be a problem, babygirl,” I grunted. “Now go.” McKenna was already peeling off her hoodie. “Be a good girl for me.”
Bailey hastened to obey.
When I came inside her best friend a few minutes later, Bailey heard it in stereo.
McKenna had an orgasm a few thrusts later, sobbing and whimpering, then the three of us convened in the shower.
The big bench on the side that I remembered from my last trip to the Armada made a perfect shelf for Bailey to lay on while McKenna knelt in front of her, burying her face in Bailey’s pussy while my babygirl wrapped her lips around my cock.
Afterwards, we got cleaned up and dressed.
McKenna left first—back in her boots, sunglasses and hoodie, giving me a long goodbye kiss before heading downstairs and back to her car.
Fifteen minutes later (to avoid anyone getting suspicious), Bailey did the same, the white ribbon back in her hair and—of course—my blue button-down as the surprise next-day outfit she’d packed in her overnight bag.
Another twenty minutes later, I grabbed my duffel back and took the elevator down to the first floor.
The lobby was bright and busy, full of early check-ins and late check-outs.
A steady stream of people trickled in and out of the cafe down the block, which made me think of the walk McKenna must have done earlier that morning. God bless that girl, I thought.
I walked up to the front desk and handed in my key. “Checking out,” I said, nodding to a desk clerk who was not the same person who’d been there last night. “Room thirty-one twenty-five…”
I trailed off.
Standing next to me, in front of the other clerk, was the girl from last night. From the bar.
Daylight suited her. The expensive dress was gone, replaced with a cardigan, and her raven-dark locks had been pulled into a loose ponytail. The little tattoo on her wrist peeked out from the hem of her sleeve as she brushed a stray lock behind her ear.
She glanced over and saw me. Our eyes met.
“Have a good night?” I asked.
She looked me up and down. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Clearly not as good as you did,” she purred.
The laugh came out reflexively, loud and genuine. “That obvious?”
“You look like a man who won the lottery and is trying not to tell anyone,” she said, taking a receipt from the clerk. She glanced down. “And you have a bit of a limp that wasn’t there last night.”
“Long conference,” I said, giving her a shit-eating grin. I didn’t normally banter with girls like this, with this many years between us, but after the night I’d had, maybe I ought to make it a habit. “Strained it in a team-building exercise.”
“Uh huh,” she said, laughing. “And is the whole team limping or just their manager?”
A warm feeling spread through my chest.
I’m hitting on this woman, I thought. And she likes it.
It had been a long time since I’d done something like this. Even with Miki, she’d come after me, not the other way around. Flirting in public was a skill I hadn’t had to exercise in a long time.
It made me want to push things further.
“The team is very satisfied,” I said. “I can give you a demonstration sometime if you’d like.”
I watched her purse her lips in thought. Interest danced behind her eyes.
I took a step closer. “Let me get your number,” I said, making it even more plain.
I didn’t even know how I planned to fit this girl into my calendar. Probably, I wouldn’t even follow up on this—God knew I had way too many plates to keep spinning as it was. But there was something inside of me that wanted to know I still could. That Tom Cottrell still had game.
She laughed, quick and low, like I’d surprised her. “Give me your receipt.”
I handed it to her. She grabbed a pen off the desk and scribbled a phone number across the top—no name, just the digits. “I don’t normally give my number to strangers, Mr…?”
“What’s it matter? You’ll be calling me something else by the end of the night.”
She actually gasped.
“And you didn’t give me your name,” I said, giving her another grin. “But that’s what team-building exercises are for.”
She shook her head in amazement. “You must have had an incredible night,” she guessed.
“I did. And it’s getting better all the time.”
She walked past me to the big double-doors, then turned around at the threshold.
“Drive safe,” she said, slipping on her sunglasses. “Tell your team I said congratulations.”
And then she was gone.
I didn’t know her name. She didn’t know mine. But I had her number.
Spent the morning banging two coeds, got a third’s digits on the way out the door, I thought, amazed. Jesus, Tom who are you?
I felt like I was ten feet tall as I made my way out of the lobby and through the parking lot.
Once behind the wheel, I took a second, checking myself out in the rearview mirror.
I was about to re-enter the real world, and I needed to look like boring Tom Cottrell, not the dom who’d commanded two girls half my age the previous night.
Halfway to work (I’d used my PTO in advance this time instead of calling out), my phone buzzed. I checked it at a red light, expecting Bailey or McKenna. It was Miki.
reservation’s set for friday, she’d written. pavilion, 7pm. wear whatever makes you feel dangerous, which for you is probably a slightly different tie.
“Dangerous,” I chuckled, glancing back at the road. Miki had no earthly idea how dangerous of a man I’d actually become.
The phone buzzed again. also, psa? i don’t ever do this. the number-on-the-receipt thing. you’re the first, so don’t make me regret my one (1) impulsive decision, company man.
She’d signed it with a sparkle emoji, like all the other texts.
The light turned green and I drove, a new feeling spreading through my chest. Because that was it, wasn’t it?
Everyone else in my life was complicated: they wanted a ring, they wanted to be rescued, they needed to be protected or they wanted to blackmail someone I cared about.
All this girl wanted from me was a date on Friday.
I held that in my head, right next to the conversation I’d had with Bailey and McKenna that morning. Two columns, both contradicting each other, neither budging an inch.
Miki was camouflage. The girl I stayed casual with to give me cover for Bailey. The plan.
But did I really want that camouflage?
And what happened to the plan when it started sending me texts that brightened my day?
I wasn’t sure. But maybe Friday would give me some clarity. I was looking forward to it.
In fact, among all of my many worries—Debbie, the whale, what would happen if Bailey’s father didn’t get out of jail and what might happen if he did—the date was one of the only things I wasn’t dreading.
Which meant I walked into it with my guard down, completely unaware of what was about to happen.