by Demi Donovan
“Fuck, Cassie,” I groan, picturing her slipping a hand into her panties and teasing her sweet clit for me as she sucks me off. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
The thick globs of cum jet from the head of my cock, splattering all over the damp towel and across the gray marble tiling. When I open my eyes, releasing my cock, I see the door behind me slamming shut in the reflection of the mirror. For a moment, I’m sure I saw the purple of Cassie’s hair in the reflection as well.
“Shit,” I grunt to myself, that sinking feeling in my gut telling me that I’ve fucked up.
At the same time, another part of me is desperately curious to know how much she saw. How much she stood there to watch?
I take a minute to compose myself and clean up the bathroom, throwing the cum-covered towel in the hamper. Wrapping a clean one around my hips, I go to Cassie’s door, finding it tightly shut. The suitcase isn’t behind the door anymore, thought. I knock on it gently, and get no answer.
Was I wrong? Did I imagine seeing what I saw?
I nudge the door open slightly and see the outline of Cassie sleeping, curled up under the covers where I left her. With a mix of relief and disappointment, I close the door again and retreat to my own bedroom.
At the very least, I can pretend that she didn’t see me jerking off to the thought of her, calling out her name as I imagined coming in her face and having her swallow my seed. It’s as thin of a consolation as can get, but I’ll take anything at this point.
In the aftermath, I’m no less fucking obsessed with her than I was before.
Six
Cassie
Parker Carlson is more man than I’ve ever known and I’m not sure what to do with it.
I didn’t sleep a wink all night. How could I, after walking in on him in the bathroom, watching his large, strong body shake with a powerful orgasm, his absolutely magnificent cock spilling cum as he grunted out my name? I’ve never been so turned on by anything and I’d be a liar if I claimed I didn’t touch myself to the thought of him.
It’s something I haven’t done for Mark since the first time we hung out together. After seeing Parker’s monster of a cock, I can’t even think about Mark in any way that doesn’t make what we did and had together seem sort of… disappointing.
With my brain a jumble of thoughts, I get up early in the morning, dress in what I consider to be my nicest dress – another completely black number with an A-line skirt and a modest neckline – and carefully sneak through the house, hoping not to wake Parker. Instead, I find him in the kitchen, whistling to himself as he flips over pancakes.
The early morning news is playing on the TV and he’s dressed in a V-neck tee and slouchy sweatpants that curve just right around his ass. He has a really nice ass.
I shouldn’t notice the fact that he does though, right?
He greets me with a wave and motions to a coffee machine to the right of me.
“Just in time. Are you a morning person?” he asks me, amusement in his eyes.
“Not really,” I say, relieved to find that he’s at least acting like he didn’t see me creeping on him last night.
I think it’s best for the both of us if we pretend it never happened.
“I’ll make up for the both of us, then,” he says, flopping a couple of pancakes on a plate and setting it down in front of me when I take a seat at the dining table.
The kitchen is big, but the dining nook is sweet, homey. Not something I’d expect to find in the home of a single man as wealthy and successful as Parker is. At least I hope he’s single.
“Eat up, we have a big day in front of us,” he tells me as my gut wrenches at the thought of him having someone else in his life.
It’s stupid, but I’m incredibly jealous of a woman who may not even exist. My fingers pick at one of the several safety pins I have in my dress, finding them garish now instead of edgy. I make a mental note to take them out of the dress the moment I can.
“Big day?” I echo, pouring some maple syrup on the pancakes as he comes to join me, sitting opposite of me. “And thank you. You didn’t need to make breakfast.”
“You’re welcome, and yes, I did. You look like you haven’t eaten in months. If you don’t have the energy to keep up with the workload at SCP Limited, you’re going to be no use to me,” he says good-naturedly, throwing me a friendly wink.
I feel slightly self-conscious, but take his words for what they are. I’ve gotten too skinny, I know that, but I’ve been too preoccupied with feeling sorry for myself lately to really do anything about it. That needs to stop. I have no intention of disappointing anyone, least of all Parker or my mother.
The first bite is heaven on my tongue. These have to be the best blueberry pancakes I’ve ever had!
“These are amazing,” I gasp, not even done with swallowing the first mouthful.
I clap a hand over my mouth. If I was going to attempt to make Parker see me as anything but a little girl, I’m sort of failing at it right now. He grins, nodding his head in thanks.
“Your mom told me you loved blueberry pancakes. Those also happen to be my specialty, so you’re in luck.”
I chow down eagerly, forgetting for a moment my self-conscious musings around Parker. It feels nice, sharing a meal with him, and I allow myself to push the dumb thoughts to the background for a moment. I still have too many questions and the mention of SCP Limited stirs some unwelcome memories in me, but I don’t want to ruin our breakfast.
When we’re both almost done and I’m running low on coffee, I dare broach the subject of the day again. He hasn’t mentioned anything about last night so I’m happy to let sleeping dogs lie.
“You said we have plans for today?”
“I’m going to take you shopping,” he says matter-of-factly, a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk curling the corner of his lips in the most maddening way.
“Shopping?” I echo, feeling more like a parrot the last couple of days than a person by the way I keep repeating things. “Are we… do you need something?”
“No, we’re going shopping for you, Cassie. I saw the size of your suitcase and I’m willing to bet you don’t own anything that would look right in the office. So I’m going to take you to buy a new wardrobe, my treat.” Before I can start arguing, he’s holding up his hands, having none of it. “And I won’t take no for an answer. You are my guest and I fully intend to get my money’s worth out of you when you graduate from college. We’ll look at schools soon but first things first, we need to get you ready for work. Understood?”
He gives me a stern look and breaks it with a smile that I can’t help but answer.
“Okay,” I finally say. “But I won’t be in your debt. I don’t want anything for free.”
He looks at me curiously but nods then. We finish up breakfast and after he changes into casual slacks and a blazer we head out, taking a sleek BMW coupe this time from his awesome garage. The place looks like a car show and he doesn’t seem to notice it at all.
The first store we walk into and the first price tag I see kick the breath right out of my lungs. I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to pay something like that back, but he tells me that engineering salaries are more than enough for something like this and it doesn’t matter to him. It takes a while before I can relax and stop staring at the zeroes on the tags, but I resolve myself to trusting him.
It’s the least I can do when he’s already offering to help me with so much.
“You’re being too kind,” I whisper as he shows a shop assistant all the things she needs to pick out for me.
His arm sweeps around my shoulder and he gives it a squeeze as he leads me toward the changing room. I lean into him easily, eager to get lost in his warmth and the feel of his strong body. My core throbs with need and my throat gets dry again, just like it did when I saw him naked, his cock in his big, strong hand.
“I’m being no such thing. You need to understand that you coming to help me out at SCP is something I need too. It’s a reall
y busy time for us with a big project coming to its most demanding period and I need someone to help keep me on the ball. You’re that girl, I’m sure of it.”
I can only nod mutely, hoping against hope that I don’t disappoint him. He sends me off into the dressing room with a pile of clothes already waiting for me, all beautiful office sets, skirts and dresses and shirts in sophisticated cuts that I would never pick out for myself because I don’t think I could pull it off.
I put on a black pencil skirt and button up a white blouse over my worn, used-to-be-white bra. When I step into a pair of matching black pumps and sweep my hair back with my hands, I stare at my reflection for a long moment. I like it. It doesn’t look like me, but maybe the me I could be… The kind of person who has her shit together, who doesn’t steal from her mother or date jobless bums who aren’t going anywhere in life.
The kind of person who could be with Parker Carlson, maybe.
“Are the sizes right?” Parker asks me, rousing me from my thoughts.
I take a breath, gathering my courage, and then step out of the dressing room. He’s sitting on a bench in the waiting area and straightens up immediately as I step out. In fact, he stands up, his expression this beautiful mask of surprise and awe.
“Is it all right?” I ask, doing a little twirl for him.
One of the purple streaks in my hair catches to my nose and I sweep it back, annoyed by it. He’s wordless and I look down at myself, worrying that I might have overestimated this looking good on me.
“No, you’re right, it’s not me,” I say, feeling a blush creep up my neck and cheek.
I turn to rush back into the changing room but he catches me by the arm, spinning me back to face him. We’re so close that our bodies almost touch and it doesn’t feel nearly close enough.
“You look great, Cassie,” he tells me, his voice huskier than usual.
I love that look in his eyes. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me like that and I want to throw myself straight into it, straight into him.
“Go on, try the rest of it on.”
I nod, wishing the moment would last. With butterflies in my belly, I go through the rest of the clothes the assistant picked out for me, with her bringing me a different size sometimes when Parker doesn’t approve. We end the day with bags upon bags of clothes, all so gorgeous and luxurious that I don’t know what to do with myself now that Parker has bought them all for me.
“One last stop,” he tells me, nudging me toward a high-end lingerie store.
My breath catches. I can imagine myself modeling underwear for him and though it should be mortifying, I feel myself soaking through my panties at the thought of him seeing me almost naked like that. I’m far too eager to do this and far too disappointed when he just sends me off with a shop assistant to get new undergarments.
I return after a while with an armful of panties and bras and neither one of us says a word about it. They’re rung up and off we go, the bag added to the pile that Parker insists on carrying himself.
Not once does he mention the financial state of my family or make me feel awkward about it. He doesn’t even check the amounts on the receipts as he pays them and he insists I don’t either. I still feel weird about it, but every now and then, the way he looked at me when I walked out in that first outfit comes back to me and I feel better, if only a little.
At least I know that he liked what he saw. What that means though, I’m not entirely sure.
We’re about to head out of the mall when I spot a convenience store and a thought hits me. I skid to a halt, a couple of steps from the doors leading to the parking garage.
“I’m going to be with you in a moment,” I tell him as Parker cocks a brow at me. “I just need to um… I need to get something. Don’t worry,” I call over my shoulder, running to the store.
Slipping into the store, I find the hair care shelves and pick a couple of dyes close to my natural color from the shelf, as well as a couple of options to try and wash out the purple from my hair. I don’t want to look like a teenager with an identity crisis anymore. I want to look like I belong in Parker’s office, and his life, even if I know I don’t.
I buy the dyes with my own money and find Parker in a bit. He’s leaning on his BMW, looking so suave and sophisticated as the sun sets in the backdrop of the roof of the parking garage.
“Get what you needed?” he asks me, opening the door for me.
“Yes,” I nod, sliding into the seat.
He reaches across me and buckles the seatbelt for me before I can do it myself, his broad body leaning over me. I suck in a breath as he does, feeling him so close to me again sending my nerves all aflutter.
“Safety first,” he says simply before closing the door and getting in on the other side.
The drive back home is short but by the time all the bags are in my room - - my room, I think I’m getting too comfortable here – it’s dark outside.
“I’ll get dinner started,” Parker tells me, leaving me fussing with all the clothes and shoes and accessories he’s gotten me.
I particularly like a pair of simple golden butterfly earrings he bought me.
When the clothes are settled away, I grab a bathrobe and the hair dyes and take a shower in the same shower he used before. I purposely leave the door unlocked, though I doubt that Parker would walk in on me in a million years. A girl can dream though, right?
The purple comes out of my hair easily enough, a small mercy of using a cheapie semi-permanent dye to begin with. After I’ve washed myself and dried my hair, looking at my reflection makes me stand and take notice. I don’t think I’ve looked this natural in a long while.
Usually I wear the same kind of heavy eyeliner that Mark prefers and my hair has been some kind of crazy color for a while now. It’s sort of nice to be subdued and normal for a change.
Smiling to myself, I dress in a casual dress and put on the butterfly earrings before heading downstairs. As I’m about to descend the last turn on the stairs, the doorbell rings and I hear Parker greeting someone. There’s immediate tension in his voice and I freeze on the steps, getting that indefinable feeling that I shouldn’t be listening in on this, but at the same time being unwilling not to.
“Parker. I know it’s late but I need to mail these proposals tonight and you hadn’t signed them before leaving,” a deep, masculine voice says.
It’s gruffer, lower than Parker’s and it sends tingles down my spine. There’s an edge of danger to it and I want badly to see who it belongs to, but I’m perfectly frozen on the stairs and figure that it’s best if I remain there.
“Sorry. Must have gotten lost in the shuffle,” Parker responds.
I can just see a bit of his back as he scribbles his signature on several sheets of paper.
“You’re not inviting me in?” the stranger asks with some amusement.
“Not a good night.”
“Don’t tell me you actually have a woman in here,” the stranger laughs. “If so, more power to you. I thought we were beyond that point with you.”
I’m not sure whether I hate him for saying that or love him for it. At the very least, it confirms that Parker probably doesn’t have a ‘special friend’ hidden away somewhere.
Not that it gives me any more of a shot, I remind myself.
“How was Cameron?” the stranger asks, his voice more uncertain now, like the topic is uncomfortable for him.
Why would he know my father? Unless this is…
“Sawyer, if you cared about how Cameron is, you would have come to Philadelphia and seen for yourself. He is what he’s always been,” Parker says tersely, sending my stomach doing flips.
Yup, if my dad is anything, it’s consistent. A consistent disappointment to those who love him, much like I am. But unlike him, I’m at least trying to make a positive change. Right?
“He’s bad news and any sort of partnership with him is out of the question,” Sawyer says darkly. “Please tell me you’re aware of that?”
“After you telling me the same rendition of it for more than a decade? Yeah, I’ve heard you. You need anything else?”
He’s practically growling now.
“No, I’m good. Thanks,” Sawyer says, the door closing in front of his face a moment later.
I feel sick for causing problems for Parker. I know why he didn’t tell Sawyer I am here – because Sawyer wouldn’t have any of it. And I know enough about Sawyer from my dad’s tales to know that if he doesn’t want something, he’ll make it go away.
It seems like no matter where I go, I’m bound to cause trouble, whether I try to or not.
My phone buzzes in my pocket just as Parker turns to return to the kitchen and I pretend like I just came down the stairs.
“Dinner’s ready,” he tells me, the only sign of there being any additional tension on his part the fact that his expression looks more strained than usual.
“Great! I’m famished,” I tell him with a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
The name that flashes across the screen of my phone is Mark. I’m not going to read his text. Not yet.
Seven
Sawyer
SCP Limited is a cacophony of motion and meetings and arguments and I fucking love it. As much joy as getting my rocks off gives me, being messed up in all of this madness satisfies me on a different and equally as important level. If I had to be honest, and I rarely do, I’d probably admit that I currently love SCP far more than anything else in my life.
She’s a bitch, but at least she’s my bitch.
The auxiliary systems engineering team chatters among themselves as they scatter from our morning meeting, heading off to tighten their part of the proposal we’re working up for Tesla. The company’s been in turmoil for months now over this one possible deal. As big as we are, as respected as we are, working with Tesla would open doors for us that we couldn’t even dream of before.
