by Demi Donovan
If only for a moment.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I tell him as he pushes me back down and then brings my knees together to remove the soaked panties off of me.
“I told myself I’d give you everything that you needed. If this is what you need, I’m more than happy to oblige,” Parker says, slowly bringing my knees apart.
He stares at my pussy like it’s a work of art. Pink, wet and waiting for him, I hope it’s everything he hoped it would be.
“Fuck, Cassie… The things you do to me,” he groans, letting his fingers travel down and then glide over my pussy lips.
I groan, throwing my head back as I raise my hips to meet his touch. With agonizing slowness, a complete 180 from the gruffness of Sawyer, he discovers my pussy, feeling every fold with his fingertips. When he swirls them over my clit, I spasm violently under his touch.
“What do you want, Cassie?”
“I want you,” I tell him earnestly. “Please.”
“But you were a bad girl today,” he continues, one of his hands going to stroke his length through the slacks, my hungry eyes following the motion greedily as he teases my clit. “I don’t think I should reward that. What kind of a Daddy would I be then?”
I choke on my words. The way he’s talking to me is so… obscene in a way, though he isn’t saying anything disgusting. It’s just the combination of who he is, who I am and how we got here that makes a tingle run down my spine and my cunt ache for him.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say, liking the way that word feels on my tongue. “I promise I won’t be bad anymore. I promise I’ll be good,” I babble.
“But if you’re not bad, how can you be punished?” Parker asks with a growl, leaning down over me to kiss me again.
I don’t have an answer for that.
“Just this once, baby,” he tells me.
Before I get to ask him what it means, he’s kissing a trail down my neck and I’m shutting the fuck up. He kisses his way down to my cleavage and then skims down, starting up again on my stomach. I arch to meet him as he fans kisses on my stomach, moving achingly close to my pussy.
“I think I’d like to shave this,” he tells me, only to have me nod mindlessly.
Whatever he wants, I want to give him, just as he promised he would give me. He grunts as he kisses the inside of my thigh and when his tongue slicks over my pussy lips for the first time, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. The sensation is overwhelming and I can’t get enough. My breaths are moans by the time he parts my pussy lips with his tongue and starts really eating me out.
“Oh my god, Parker,” I hiss, grinding into him.
He holds me down by the hip with one hand, the other joining him in tormenting my pussy. First one finger slips into me and then another and I feel that sweet tightness in me that I had for the first time with Sawyer. I’ve been so wound up over the last week and no matter how much I masturbated by my lonesome, it didn’t feel like it was enough. It was never fucking enough.
Now as Parker fingerfucks me and eats me out, I realize that it couldn’t possibly have been enough. I needed him. I needed Sawyer. The only way I can ever really get off is if one of them allows it to me. The thought is both terrifying and hot as hell.
“Please, Parker,” I mewl, his tongue making these torturous circles on my clit as he slowly has his way with me.
My nails are clawing at his back and I’m practically shoving my cunt in his face but he’ll do me at the pace he wants, not what I demand. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Please, Daddy, please let me cum,” I whimper.
I don’t recognize this woman, but I like her. She gets what she wants. She gets two men who are far out of her league and she doesn’t run away in tears. When I grow up, I want to be her all the fucking time.
“What’ll you do if I let you cum, baby?” he asks me.
“Anything,” I wheeze. “Anything you want. Always!”
It’s a promise. I think it’s enough, too, because the next thing I know, he’s sucking my clit between his lips and sending jolts of lightning coursing through my body in a way that I couldn’t even imagine to be possible. I’m an absolute wreck, the need building and building in me until I can’t keep it at bay any longer.
I come, screaming, writhing, wailing as Parker Carlson fingerfucks me and eats me out. My first real orgasm is by a man so unapproachable and so unattainable that before he took me to his home, I would have never even dared imagine myself with a man like him.
And I’m calling him Daddy. And it feels right.
He’s definitely cared for me more than any man ever has.
My nails must be drawing blood as I cling to Parker’s shoulders with them as I ride the wave of pleasure. When I finally let go, relaxing on the mattress, he moves back up along my body. My lips find his easily and I lick myself off of him, the taste sweet.
He locks me in a cage of his arms, pulling me to his chest. I cuddle against him, a disheveled mess of post-orgasmic bliss. He strokes my hair. His cock is hard as steel. When my hand reaches down his body to touch it, he grips my wrist and pulls it back.
“No, baby. Not tonight. You don’t get my cock for being bad.”
I bite my lower lip but nod, too tired to try and fight him on it. The day has wiped me out completely. We stay snuggled up together for a while, until he tells me to get dressed for bed and brush my teeth. Like an obedient child, I do as I’m told. Just this time, he won’t let me sleep alone in my room.
Instead, I fall asleep in Parker’s embrace, kept safe from anything that could hurt me. Including my own bad choices.
Twelve
Sawyer
Of all the fucked up things I’ve done, this just might be the most fucked up.
After Parker dragged Cassie out of the meeting room, instead of retreating into a whiskey bottle and reminiscing about the twists and turns I had to take to get to a point where I was feeding my cock to the eighteen-year-old daughter of a former friend of mine, I went and looked up everything I could about Cassie Davis. The whole nine yards.
A man of my considerable wealth and connections doesn’t have to relegate himself to simple Facebook and Instagram stalking. With a few phone calls to the right people, I had everything from her dental charts to her school transcripts in my e-mail within an hour. Finally when I started poring through those did I pour myself a drink and feel like the piece of shit that I am.
I drank the information in and it tasted at the same time more bitter than the whiskey and sweeter than anything. I’d tried to do it before, looking for her name in the company database, but Parker being the sly fucker he is hadn’t entered her in. She still wore a guest pass, all in an effort to hide her identity from me. Say what I may about my friend and partner, but he knows me well.
Finally, after learning that she’s allergic to strawberries and that she has amazing math grades, I closed the files and deleted them all, happy to never have to look at them again. I knew her now, so she was out of my system.
Wrong.
Getting home to my penthouse apartment close to SCP Limited, instead of feeling myself relax, I tensed up worse. There was none of that blissful feeling of not giving a shit that I’d fully expected. Instead, images of Cassie danced in front of my eyes, but this time not just of her submitting to me, not only of her sucking my dick and begging for seconds. It was something far worse.
I could see her and me as… together. Dates. Laughing. Having fun together. Sure, your regular affair of depravity was solidly mixed into that spiel of happiness, but the problem was that I, in fact, thought of her more as a person now rather than less.
A person I had feelings for. A person I still have feelings for.
Needless to say, after a sleepless night and one too many cups of coffee, I’m wired out of my mind the next morning. The brief was left unfinished because of our impromptu tête-à-tête with Cassie and I came in a couple of hours early since I couldn’t sleep anyway to finish it up
. As my luck would have it, I’m not the only one with that idea.
I run into Parker in the hallway first thing. Our unspoken understanding that we have too much work to do to kick each other’s asses right now keeps us from throwing another punch, though I realize how much my fucking jaw hurts the moment I see the guy. I want to sock him for his fucking insolence, but a part of me has to respect the fact that Parker Carlson is willing to throw down when something important to him gets violated by the big bad wolf.
That being me.
What I can’t completely ignore is that Cassie too is in the office and by the way she’s floating around as if someone plopped a nice cushy cloud right under her legs, I know that she and Parker didn’t just go home to talk about things. I’ve never claimed to be the best reader of people’s emotions, but I recognize postcoital bliss when I see it.
In a word, I am jealous.
The morning creeps by without a word exchanged between any of the three of us, that probably being for the better. When 9:00 a.m. rolls around, we’re separated into meetings and by noon, the Tesla brief goes out, to the relieved sighs of everyone involved. It’s only a small bit of respite, we’re supposed to hand in a proposal for one of their new battery concepts in another week, but I’ll take a victory when it is offered to me.
As much as work should be distracting me from all the heinous things I shouldn’t be thinking about Cassie Davis, it’s doing a really shitty job of it. I have her on my brain and I can’t shake her. Every time I see her, it gets a little worse.
I think this is what’s called pining. I, at forty-one years of age, have decided to start pining after a woman more than two times younger than I am. The very thought of doing something with her should send me into a gagging rage, considering my feelings for her beloved father.
Then again, I did tell her that I was going to be her Daddy now, whatever that even means. Maybe that should entail some care and attention? All of this meaning that I’m just looking for ways to justify to myself why it would be okay to whisk her off into a custodial closet somewhere and fuck the living daylights out of her, even if Parker got there first.
As a last ditch effort, I take ten minutes to down a glass of whiskey in the middle of the day – a habit I promised not to start up again after I trashed a meeting room in my early thirties in a drunken rage in the middle of the day – and think back to that time when Cameron Davis got thrown in jail for being a scummy fucker.
Most of the time, I’m damn thankful that he was as big of a dumbass as he was, figuring that he could walk into Apexis Engineering, his employer at the time, steal confidential information and not have anything happen to him. In my opinion, it saved us of a lot of trouble down the line. Once a dumbass, always a dumbass.
And then, on the other hand, I also fully realize that when Cameron, Parker and I sat down with beers in my dorm room a scant week before it happened, all three of us were reveling in the notion of finding out what Apexis was up to and turning something better in for General Motors. We strategized, in jest and over alcohol we could barely afford, but by the end of the night, all of us liked the idea of a little corporate espionage.
Hell, I sat right there when Cameron said that he could just walk into his boss’s office and snatch whatever it is they’re working on. At the time, we all laughed. His employer didn’t even know SCP Limited existed because it was literally three guys in a dorm room with big ideas, so they didn’t know that Cameron could be a threat before he was hauled into jail.
Cameron showed up at my dorm the night he stole the files and I’m not proud to admit this, but I went over them with him. Parker never saw the damn things because I kept them. A day later, Cameron was in jail and we never used a single word of what he’d found out.
What his stunt achieved was that Apexis ended up trashing their proposal and we got in under the wire before they did. We scored a meeting at GM and everything since has been easy riding, comparatively.
I don’t like thinking back to that time. It makes my skin crawl and my gut twist and as I get out of my chair, ready to go and face my job again, I think I’ve made headway in reminding myself why Cassie Davis could be the last woman alive and I still shouldn’t fuck her. There’s too much history there, the reminder of which stands right in the name of the company.
Sawyer-Cameron-Parker. SCP. Parker wouldn’t agree to drop the C even after we bought Cameron’s shares out, much to my chagrin. It’s ironic that after all these years, another C has come between us, if in an entirely different kind of way.
My resolve, formerly made of steel, collapses like soggy tissue paper when I see Cassie carrying a stack of files into the archive. Like a dog with a bone, I follow her into the room and this time, I lock the fucking door behind me. The moment she hears the click, she spins around to face me, dropping her armful of files.
“Shit,” she curses, an endearing sound out of her mouth, mostly because I’m intimately acquainted with that particular pair of lips now.
She’s on her knees, scooping up the files without so much as glancing at me.
“I think we need to talk, kitten,” I say, kicking one of the files toward her with my foot.
I lean against the door with my back, considering my sweet tormentor. If I could just pinpoint what it is about her that makes me act like the dumbass I’ve always thought her father to be, maybe… No, I think it’s no use at this point. I’m obsessed. There’s not going to be rhyme or reason to it.
Nothing a good frontal lobotomy couldn’t fix, I guess.
“Do we?”
“You don’t think so?”
She gets up with that armful of files and plops them down on a narrow workspace. I automatically try to determine whether it would carry her weight if I fucked her on it with her legs up on my shoulders. The answer is a definite maybe.
“I think a lot of things happened last night that maybe both of us are still digesting and locking us into a badly lit room in the middle of the day might not be the best solution to dealing with it all.”
Always with that smart mouth. She gets my blood boiling so fast and I have to wonder how the fuck Parker lives with her without spanking her ass raw every night. Then again, maybe it’s me. Maybe I bring out the bratty side of our joint princess.
“Is that any way to talk to your Daddy?” I ask, teasing her with the word as much as I’m taunting myself.
It feels raw and forbidden and fucking filthy. I sort of love it, now.
“What makes you think you’re my Daddy?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
I grin and though I think she doesn’t want to, she echoes the smile. So much for playing hard to get.
“Because I can do this to you,” I say, covering the scant few feet between us and pinning her to the wall by her neck, her ass scooting up on the same workspace she stacked the files on. “And you fucking love it.”
Like the degenerate I try to hide from the world that I am, I press my lips to her cheek and then run my tongue up her cheek. She gasps, her hands grasping for my wrist, but it feels more like she’s holding onto me than trying to push me away.
“Now tell me, kitten, what did you do last night? Did you finally climb on Parker’s cock, you little slut? Was it anything like mine? Did you think of me as you rode him?” I hiss, working myself up with every word I utter.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins and it takes conscious effort not to rip her clothes off of her. I don’t do other people’s leftovers but with Cassie, it doesn’t exactly feel that way. She might represent the first occasion in my life where I’ve decided that sharing is better than not having any at all.
I tighten my grip for a moment, hearing the sweet sound of her breath running out, before I let go. She keeps her head against the wall, gasping in a deeper breath, and I’m convinced that if I shoved my hand between her legs right now, I’d find her soaking through her panties.
“Jealous?” she asks, cocking a brow at me.
She smirks and it’
s just about enough to make me put my fist through the wall. Fuck yes, I’m jealous. I might be okay, begrudgingly, with sharing her with Parker for the sole reason that there’s little I can do to prevent it, but I don’t need her rubbing my nose in it.
“Answer the fucking question,” I growl, mentally noting that she didn’t argue a word against this twisted daddy thing we’ve got going on here.
She juts out her chin, drawing my attention to her long, pale neck. Somehow, everything she does translates as sexual in my head. Cassie takes a hard look at me before answering.
“No,” she tells me simply.
“No, what?”
“No, I didn’t fuck him.”
The word fuck out of her mouth feels like something that shouldn’t even happen. I must be focusing on it to swallow down the relief of what she just said.
“I don’t want you saying that word again,” I tell her gruffly, shoving her legs apart and stepping between them, effectively pinning her in place between me and the wall.
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do about what I say or don’t say,” she huffs back, practically begging me to be the monster I’m trying not to be.
“Careful, kitten. You’re playing with fire here,” I murmur, leaning into her and letting her scent waft around me.
I feel her thighs clench around me as I lean in just close enough that we’re almost kissing, our lips almost together. I pause there and it’s her that gives in first, though I wasn’t going to be far behind.
She kisses me blindly, her hands grabbing at my jacket to pull me closer so I have to prop one arm on the wall not to crush her. I kiss her like she’s the last sip of water and I’m about to die of thirst. I kiss her and I feel a jolt go through me, rousing me. I kiss her and I never want to stop doing it.
My hand slips behind her neck but instead of looking to hurt her, I caress the back of her neck now, feeling her hair between my fingers. There’s anger in the kiss, sure, but there’s also a sense of relief, I think, for both of us. For a while there, even with her lips wrapped around my cock just last night, I was beginning to suspect that she was a figment of my imagination.
