Second Chance Baby Daddy

by Vivien Vale

  I think it's time for a little speech.

  "And you guys, I just want to say thank you for everything. All these years that we've worked together, you've really supported me and my dream for this business. You all could be making a lot of money somewhere else, at a bigger firm, but you chose to stick with me here at Epica.

  “I know everyone's aware of our financial situation and if we don't get this big client our doors will have to close. I don't want to harp on the dire situation but I think you should know how grateful I am for the years of service and friendship and loyalty you've given me."

  It feels good to express my gratitude to my team of employees. At the same time, this meeting stings with sadness because my dream may fade if we don't get funding soon.

  The rest of the meeting is a rush of excitement and ideas. Everyone's brainstorming on how to make the campaign even more perfect. Working together feels better than ever and I know it will be my new way of doing things going forward.

  What's better than a group of designers feeding off each other and motivating each other to reach new heights?

  Liam

  I brace myself against the cold New York City wind.

  Winter is starting to fall over the city. It’s going to be dark nights and cold days.

  I flip the collar of my trench coat up to try to protect myself from the elements. I don’t mind the cold. In fact, I enjoy it. Shorter days mean longer nights to do filthy things between the sheets.

  This leads me to think of Claire, of course. She’s always on my mind, no matter how hard I try to escape her.

  I haven’t seen her since our fight, and I don’t expect to. It’s as if she’s vanished from my life entirely, and our time together was nothing more than a dream.

  It had to end sometime. I had to wake up. She’s enchanting, but I don’t do monogamy.

  I tuck into a café that was recommended to me by a friend. Apparently, they have the best coffee in town.

  I walk into the place, and it’s pretty packed. I order an Americano and sit by the window to read the paper.

  Just as I’m reading up on the current political landscape, I see her walk in.

  Claire. Fuck.

  How did she find this place? Why are we both here at the same time? What is the universe trying to tell me?

  I look at her steadily as she makes her way to the counter and shakes out her blonde hair. The mess of blonde waves makes her look as enchanting as ever, as if she’s just rolled out of bed. I’m only wishing it was my bed, and that the fight never happened.

  She has a wild mane that matches her personality. Claire, I’ve learned, is not someone you can contain. She is a free spirit in every sense of the phrase, fitting for her artistic talents.

  She’s a nonconformist for sure, and while I’ve come to respect that, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to enforce my own rules upon her. Seeing her now, just steps away from me, makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

  She can be free as long as she always comes back to me. She can be free outside of my bedroom. She can be free as long as she knows that ultimately, she’s mine.

  The details of our fight fly out the window. I can’t resist her beautiful face and her beautiful soul any longer.

  I let her order her coffee, and she spins around to see me sitting by the window, staring at her with darkened eyes.

  I can almost feel her heart stop. I sense her shock and attraction to me. We might be mad at each other, but the sparks flying between us are undeniable.

  She grabs her coffee and walks over to me with confidence.

  “Hey, you,” she says nonchalantly. “What are you doing here?”

  I stand and kiss her cheek, putting our differences aside enough to be a gentleman. I offer her the seat across from me, and she takes it.

  “I just heard about this place and thought I’d try it. What about you?” I say.

  “Same.”

  “So, how have you been?” I ask, though I try to remain aloof.

  I stare into her dazzling eyes and wonder if she remembers all the times that we were together. Does she remember the way my hands slid so expertly across her body? Does she remember the way it felt to kiss me?

  “I’ve been okay. Just working away. I actually took your advice and brought my whole team onto the Velvet Luxe campaign.”

  I’m taken aback. I’m surprised that she took my advice, and I’m more surprised that she’s admitting it to me now. Maybe it’s her way of waving the white flag?

  I decide to be honest with her as well. “To tell you the truth, I took some of your advice, as well. I reimagined the campaign and worked on it myself. I haven’t done that in years. It felt pretty good.”

  She smiles at my admission, and I know I did the right thing in telling her the truth.

  She and I have an undeniable connection. I hated arguing with her, but it seems like some good came of it. She actually took my advice.

  “That’s great,” she says, genuinely pleased. “Well, I guess I should take off. I have to get to work.”

  She’s trying to escape again. Why is Claire always running from me? What is she afraid of?

  I grab her hand as she turns to go and say, “Claire, come on. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Let me take you out tonight. Let me make up for our fight.”

  She eyes me cautiously, and I wonder if she’ll accept the invitation or if she’s done with me for good.

  I squeeze her hand, and her eyes turn a deep shade of blue as she thinks about my offer.

  “Okay, Liam that sounds really nice. Text me later?”

  I release her hand, and with that, she’s out the door and on the frigid streets of New York.

  I’m pleased that I’ve cemented a date. I myself go back to the office, but instead of working, I spend some time putting together a perfect evening for Claire and me.

  She mentioned before that she feels uncomfortable within the confines of my glamorous lifestyle, so I determine that I’ll take my own car, my Porsche, to pick her up. No limousines tonight.

  I text her early, around six, and tell her I’ll be there soon to pick her up.

  She’s waiting for me outside of her apartment.

  Tonight, she’s wearing a long red, silk dress with very thin straps. I can see the outline of her breasts underneath the thin fabric.

  It turns me on so much, but I know that I can’t take her here. I need to wine and dine her first.

  She gets in the car, and I say, “Shall I take you for a spin around the city? You can see what this car can really do.”

  “Yes!” she exclaims.

  I smile. She has an obvious need for speed, and that’s something I can deliver.

  I step on the gas and race through the streets. I take the corners sharply and drive the car through abandoned alleyways, anywhere that I can find some leverage to hit the gas.

  She seems to enjoy the ride. I steal glances at her from time to time, my eyes drawn to her gorgeous face, her glossy lips parted in delight, and her gently heaving chest. I imagine that her heart has been beating wildly this whole crazy ride.

  I want to take her hand and to place it on my cock.

  But I don’t. I hold back. And it takes all my willpower to do so.

  Finally, I drive the Porsche up to a little Italian restaurant. The valet parks it, and I take her inside.

  Once there, amid the intimate confines of the candlelit atmosphere, I’m able to finally touch her. I reach across the table and hold her hand.

  Her eyes glimmer at my touch, and I know we’re both feeling the same thing. We had a big fight, and it’s like the unspoken elephant in the room, but nothing has changed in terms of our attraction.

  I want her. She wants me.

  But neither of us is gonna be the first to say it.

  The sexual tension is at an all-time high.

  “How about I order us some wine?” I ask.

  “Sure, that sounds great.”

 
; I order us a less-than-expensive vintage, again wanting to tone things down for the sake of Claire. I hope she’s taking note of the way I’m trying to appear more like a normal man.

  There’s nothing normal about me, of course, but I don’t want to scare her away with my extravagant lifestyle. I should’ve known and predicted that she would find it hard to fit in with all the glitz and glamour.

  I don’t know why she would feel that way, though, considering she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been out with models and actresses.

  Claire is more amazing than all of them. I want her to know that.

  We split a bottle of wine and eat some pasta. We make small talk, not wanting to go too deep.

  Finally, she says, “This was really great, Liam. Thanks for a nice evening.”

  I look at her. Doesn’t she know? Can’t she see that I want more?

  This evening is not nearly close to being over.

  “It’s not over yet, Claire,” I say grazing my hand along her thigh underneath the table. She shivers at my touch, and again, I like it.

  I’ve come to expect her to feel nervous around me. It means she knows that I’m powerful and that I can do things to her no other man can.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  “To the opera,” I say, paying the bill.

  “The opera? I’m not dressed for the opera,” she tries to protest.

  “Actually, you are,” I say pulling her towards the door. “Luckily, you wore a long dress tonight.”

  The Porsche is waiting, and we get in. I speed through the streets until we arrive at the Metropolitan Opera House.

  We’re seated in a special VIP box that is very out of the way of everyone else.

  “This is amazing,” she says looking over the edge of the balcony. “It’s so beautiful in here.”

  She’s starting to warm up to me, I think. It’s hard to be sure.

  Once the lights go down and the curtain goes up, I get my answer because Claire falls to her knees between my legs and starts to unzip me.

  It’s such a fucking turn on. She’s going to suck my cock right here in the opera house.

  She pulls it out and looks hungrily at its length. Then she spits on it, places my cock inside her mouth, and starts to bob her head. She pushes my shaft halfway down her throat, and the sensation of it nearly throws me over the edge.

  I hold back, of course. I have the self-control of a master.

  She goes to town, licking and sucking me right there in the shadows of one of the most prestigious places in New York.

  She circles my cock with her tongue and then sucks hard. Maybe this is her way of trying to apologize to me?

  I’ve been trying to make it up to her all night. I want to put our fight behind us. But up until now, I’ve been getting a cold reaction from her.

  With this, I know that she’s fully apologetic as well. I don’t have to take her head and force her down on me because she’s doing it herself. She’s practically trying to swallow my cock.

  She starts to moan around my manhood, and it’s all too much. I reach down and remove the straps of her dress so that her tits are showing.

  The sight of Claire on her knees before me, half-naked, in full submission, makes me come. Hard.

  I blow my load down her throat, and she eagerly takes in every drop of my essence.

  I know I have her right where I want her, back under my domination. Claire is mine.

  And I’ll never lose her again.

  Claire

  I have to admit: for my first time at the opera, I think I’m having a better time than if I was just watching the show. I wipe Liam’s cum from the corners of my mouth.

  I go to pull my dress straps up so that I can sit back in my seat properly, but Liam puts his hand on top of mine, stopping me, and I understand that he wants me to sit here with my tits out.

  I hesitate, knowing that before Liam, I wouldn’t even dream of doing what I just did.

  In my head, the girl that I am with Liam and the girl that I am for everyone else are two different people—and I don’t know whether to embrace or reject this new, emerging version of Claire. I suppose that’s my biggest problem.

  On one hand, I like being buttoned-up and proper, and on the other hand...I like blowing Liam at the opera, where there’s a chance anyone could peer in and see us.

  It’s thrilling.

  It’s exciting.

  It’s something I’ve come to appreciate about my time with him.

  Thinking about it, I know I could have had just a normal time here and sit and enjoy the show. Part of me wants that, actually. The other part, however, has just sucked Liam’s cock and is ready—no—aching for more.

  It honestly is taking all I have to resist the urge to jump on top of him right now.

  But I think I’ll settle for something a little more casual and see where it goes.

  I take Liam’s hand and put it on my thigh. I rub his hand and lace my fingers through his, gripping tight. I look over at him and see his award-winning grin directed back at me. Something about that smile makes me melt every time.

  Even if I’m not thrilled with him right now...I can’t help but want him. There’s too much here between us, the kind of connection that needs no words to be understood.

  I pull his hand from my thigh and press it onto my pussy over my dress. I watch his face. He’s looking forward, watching the show…but his eyes widen, and he gulps.

  He’s trying to hold back, too. I can see it.

  I hold his hand in place, and I grind my pussy against him. He yanks his hand away, and for a moment, I feel incredibly rejected and unsure what to do.

  But seconds later, I find that his hand is now under my dress, and he’s sliding his fingers between my pussy lips, feeling for sure the warmth and wetness waiting for him there.

  My heart is beating hard, echoing in my chest. I place my hands on the armrests on either the sides of my chair and grip them hard. Two of Liam’s fingers finagle their way into my pussy and grind against my G-spot.

  I wince and feel my toes curl in my shoes. I adjust my body, giving him a better angle to finger me, and then I lay back, enjoying every movement and every second of bliss he’s giving me.

  I lean forward then, doing my best to watch the show as he handles me, and I try to contain my excitement. The more I try not to moan, the more I realize that I am not a quiet woman.

  “Claire, look at me,” orders Liam. Such a commanding and sexy voice shouldn’t be ignored, so of course, I look over.

  His gaze pierces me, and the second I look into those eyes, I lose control. I cry out hard in a long, drawn-out moan. The only reason the other patrons below us aren’t staring up here at this point is that one of the soprano singers has a solo and happened to hit her high note just then.

  I shudder, relaxing from my sudden, explosive orgasm. At this point, Liam and I have both gotten each other off. No holds barred anymore.

  He stands from his chair and lowers himself in front of me. He pulls my dress down my torso and slides it down my hips, until it’s finally off of my feet. I’m sitting completely naked in the VIP booth. Any attendant or usher could walk in to check on us and see me.

  I’m so pumped from the adrenaline rush of doing something so thrilling that I push Liam’s face between my legs and force him to eat my pussy. Eagerly, Liam throws his tongue into my pussy lips and licks them up and down, over and over.

  He’s teasing me with his tongue, and I hold his hair and start grinding my pussy against his face, forcing his tongue to go where I want it to. Liam has the most talented mouth, and I could let him lick me for hours.

  He pauses at my hole and starts thrusting his tongue inside of me. His hands are gripping my hips tight, and he’s got me pulled as forward as he can, getting inside of me as deep as a tongue can go.

  As his tongue is inside of me, his nose rests on my clit. He shakes his face, swelling my love button and stimulating my pussy
. I roll my eyes and toss my head back.

  I listen to the sounds around me. I hear the opera singers, of course, and the orchestra playing, and the clicking and clattering of a busy theatre.

  It’s impossible to forget how public our displays of affection and raw passion are. Which just adds intensity to an already steamy situation.

  My hand meets Liam’s head, and I grip his hair, finding anything and everything to hold onto as he takes me to higher and higher levels of pleasure. I look down my body to see my skin glistening with sweat.

  My nipples are incredibly hard, and I have Goosebumps all over my skin. Liam knows how to please me. He knows exactly what makes me feel extraordinary.

  Liam’s fingers plunge into me again, and he fingers me hard and fast as his mouth suctions my clit. He flicks his tongue against it relentlessly as his fingers slide in and out of my cunt.

  I grip the arms of my seat again and watch my chest rise and fall as I pant, doing my best not to shout again as Liam drives my pleasure up high. As I look down, I see a glimpse of that beautiful piercing look in his eyes.

  He brings his mouth off of me for a moment and smiles up at me. He licks his lips slowly as his fingers fuck me.

  “I want to see you come, Claire,” he utters in a low, serious, sexy tone. Well, who am I to deny that?

  His words are enough to break me. I snap hard and with one good thrust of my hips, pushing his fingers harder against my pussy, I come.

  I whimper and moan, loudly and shamelessly. I don’t take my eyes off of Liam for a moment. I see him excitedly start lapping at my pussy as I soak the seat—and his face—in my sweet delicious cum.

  He sucks at my pussy and licks as much of my cum as he can. And then he raises himself up to his knees and leans into me.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Claire,” he admits. He licks his lips, cum still in residual droplets on his face.

  His lips find mine, and we share a passionate kiss. His torso is pressed hard against my pussy and the seat below me.

  I can feel his shirt getting soaked as we make out. Although, well, I guess it is high time he take that off, too.