Kiss and Tell 2

by Faith Winslow

  “If you want money from me, Kirby, you’re going to have to earn it,” he said. For as coolly as he’d talked days before, he was now talking coldly.

  “I don’t want any money from you,” I spat back at him.

  “Sure you don’t,” Anthony said, placating me.

  “Look,” I demanded, “I came here today because I thought you wanted to talk to me about our situation—about what happened between us last week, and about our conversation at my parents’ party.”

  “That was why I originally wanted to see you,” Anthony replied, “but then I got your little note this morning.”

  “What little note?” I asked.

  Anthony sprung back in his chair a little. He raised his eyebrows at me, then reached down into one of his desk drawers, pulled out a piece of paper, and tossed it toward me.

  “This note,” he said as the paper danced in the air a little. “It arrived by bike messenger this morning.”

  I picked up the sheet of paper and glanced at it briefly. It was a short, typed message, and I had to work hard to focus my eyes enough to read it.

  “Like I said,” Anthony said as I began reading the thing, “if you want money from me, you’re gonna have to earn it. You’re not going to get it out of me that way. If you want a job at Parker & Swift, you can have it, even though you don’t deserve it—and if you don’t want it, well, that’s that. Go ahead, do whatever you will. There’s no proof.”

  Anthony was trying to play hardball, and as the message in the note became clearer, I could see why. What I held in my hands—what I was reading—was a blackmail note.

  Fathers protect your daughters, the first line read. Famous billionaire likes ‘em young, makes move on top exec’s college-aged daughter.

  There was a hard return between this headline-like intro and the next paragraph: Your selfish, perverse indiscretions have finally caught up with you and are going to cost you. $250,000 cash in unmarked bills, to be exact. Pay me or pay the piper.

  Another hard return, then this closing statement: Tell no one. Just get the money and await further instruction.

  I read over the message again, just to make sure I’d read everything correctly, then I dropped the paper back down onto the desk.

  “You think I sent this?” I asked, looking at Anthony intently.

  “Of course I do,” Anthony replied. “Who else could have?”

  Instead of answering Anthony’s question, I immediately defended myself. “Well, I didn’t send it,” I said loudly. There was more I wanted to say—such as how blackmail wasn’t my thing and how, if it were, I would have been much smarter in my approach and would have asked for much more money—but Anthony cut me off before I could get the words out.

  “Who did then?” he asked, speaking even louder. “Surely you weren’t foolish enough to tell anyone about everything that happened, were you?”

  I wanted to skip over Anthony’s question again, but knew that I couldn’t.

  Chapter 11

  “I told my neighbor,” I admitted. The truth had to come out, lest Anthony go on thinking I was the one behind the blackmail attempt. “But I’m not worried about him. He’s a good guy, and we’re friends. There was another guy there when I told him—Willard—and I guess he took my secret and ran with it.”

  Anthony locked eyes on me and looked at me as if I were under a microscope. He was clearly trying to decide whether or not to believe me.

  “Trust me, Anthony,” I said, trying to offer something that’d help sway his opinion. “I did not send you this note. I’m not trying to blackmail you. I came here today to talk about us. I had no idea about any of this.”

  Anthony continued to look me over. I felt like I’d been accused, arrested, and tried, and I was now awaiting the verdict.

  “What’s this Willard’s last name?” Anthony asked, picking up his pen.

  I had to think for a moment. Willard was Mom’s friend Janice’s son…and Janice’s last name was…

  “Preston,” I said aloud the moment it hit me. “Willard Preston.”

  Anthony scribbled down the name on a sticky note, picked up his phone, and held out his finger to silence me, then dialed a number.

  “It’s Anthony Swift,” he said into the receiver a moment later. “I need you to look into something for me…I received an unsigned note this morning, delivered by bike messenger, and I need to find out who sent it. I don’t know the name of the messenger service, but have reason to believe the note came from a young man named Willard Preston. Find out if he sent it—and if not, who did.”

  Anthony listened to the person on the other end of the line speak for a moment, then responded and closed the conversation. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll talk to you then.”

  As soon as Anthony hung up the phone, he bowed his head and shook it.

  “I didn’t want to think it was you, Kirby,” he said. “I didn’t want to believe it…and I’m so sorry that I accused you. I didn’t know who else could have sent that note.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Anthony,” I said. “It was stupid of me to blab about our situation in front of a stranger. I had no idea he would do something like this. I mean, I couldn’t have even imagined it.”

  Anthony stood up and walked to the nearby wall. He pressed a button and a panel slid open, revealing a bar setup, like the kind you’d see in some Wall Street movie. He poured two sniffers of brown liquid, slid the panel shut again, and walked back toward me. He handed me a glass and took a sip from his as he leaned back against his desk, just a few inches away from me.

  “The man I was just on the phone with is a private investigator,” Anthony explained. “And if anyone can get to the bottom of this, he can. I wasn’t going to call him in on this when I thought you were the one behind it. I was going to try and resolve it myself. Now that there’s a third party in the mix, we need a pro to handle it.

  “People are unpredictable, Kirby—especially when it comes to money. You might have never thought this Willard Preston guy could do something like this, which means we have no idea what else he’s capable of. My guy will get to the bottom of this, though. Don’t worry. In the meantime, tell no one—and I mean no one—about this, not even your neighbor friend. If Willard gets tipped off in any way, it could ruin my guy’s investigation.”

  I took a sip from my sniffer. I didn’t know what kind of booze it was, but it was sharp-tasting and nasty. It was still better than a martini, and I took another sip, then a slower drag.

  “Alright,” I said, feeling the alcohol rush through my veins and go straight to my head. “I won’t tell anyone, not even London.”

  Anthony smiled and took a sip from his own sniffer, and I found myself staring at how his lips wrapped around the glass.

  “Kirby,” he said, pulling the glass away from his lips. “Don’t look at me that way,” he sighed in both pleasure and pain. He tried to move away from the desk, but I stood just in time to stop him.

  “Why not?” I asked, moving closer to him until there was barely any space between us.

  Anthony looked down over my body, then leaned back against the desk a little again and looked down at his own form. “That’s why,” he said, staring down at the rise in his pants. I, too, looked down to examine—and admire—his obvious boner.

  I set my glass down on the desk and, without any further thought, pressed my body against Anthony’s. I ran my hands up over his arms, to his neck, and circled my arms around him.

  “Kirby,” he whispered, trying to stop me. When I brought my lips to his, my kiss prevented him from speaking, at least for a moment.

  That nasty liquor tasted wonderful on Anthony’s lips, and his soft tongue made me forget all about its sharpness. I couldn’t believe I’d made the first move and thrown myself at him, but I was glad that I did. Our kissing, alone, was worth it, and I knew that anything more would just make it all the more worth it.

  “Kirby,” Anthony whispered again, trying desperately to avoid colliding with my
mouth before he could continue. “We shouldn’t…”

  Anthony lost himself in another kiss, then I picked up where he left off.

  “We shouldn’t what?” I asked. “Someone is trying to blackmail you for your ‘selfish, perverse indiscretions,’ but we never really had one. We only went so far, and now we should just keep going…. We’re already being punished for it.”

  Anthony didn’t take the time to respond to me, at least not with words. Instead, he pulled me even closer to him and pressed his lips against mine again, separating them with his tongue a moment later. I felt his hard-on throb as I grinded my body against it, and the thought of where this was going made my own sensitive regions twitch with excitement.

  Anthony slid my blazer off of me, and it fell to the floor a split-second before he spun me around so that my backside was now up against the desk. He leaned into me a little, then fell to his knees in front of me. His hands were still near my hips, but they slowly trailed down my thighs, to my knees, calves, and feet. He ran his fingers over my shoes and carefully removed them.

  After tickling the tops of my feet a bit, Anthony looked wantonly up at me and brought his hands back up to my hips. He tugged at my waistband a little to prepare me, and I watched from above as he proceeded to remove my leggings completely. I wasn’t wearing any panties beneath, and I could tell that he appreciated both the practicality and the concept of my wardrobe decision.

  I leaned back against Anthony’s desk and spread my legs just a little, and as soon as I did, he lunged forward to spread them farther and push me farther back on his desk. My arms flailed back a bit when he did, and I inadvertently knocked over the glass of unidentified alcohol, which fell to the floor. Luckily, the floor was carpeted, so it didn’t make a sound. I was sure it’d leave a mark if not tended to quickly, but neither one of us was going to stop what we were doing to tend to it.

  There was definitely something urgent about our encounter, but Anthony took his time getting to my womanhood. He rubbed, kissed, and licked my thighs for what felt like forever before he brought his mouth to where I wanted it most. It was so excruciating waiting for him to reach my pussy, but each tantalizing move he made helped build the anticipation and made it well worth it when he finally got there.

  Anthony glided his tongue over the folds of my womanhood and kissed my mound gently, moaning each time his mouth was away from me. I observed, in awe and amazement, as he meticulously worshipped my core, and I found myself moaning for him, too, longing for his lips on my flesh and waiting for the pleasure he would bring me.

  I was throbbing—absolutely, uncontrollably throbbing. I swear, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d never been so turned on, and had never wanted anyone or anything so badly. I suddenly understood where love songs, sappy poetry, and heart-wrenching movies came from, and I started better appreciating what sights and sounds I’d witnessed the few times I ever viewed porno.

  Anthony placed his hands behind my thighs, then slid them up as high as they could go, wrapping his arms around me at my hips. His hands found their way to where his mouth was, and I watched as he licked and sucked at two fingers on his right hand. He brought those fingers to my pussy and traced the wet path his mouth had just made, then stopped near the hood of my clitoris. He pushed firmly against my cloaked bud, rubbing it in a carnal rhythm that made me drip and pulse until my lips, like flower petals, blossomed open.

  I continued to watch as Anthony moved his face closer toward me, but once his tongue touched my clit, I was gone. My eyes fluttered as his salt-and-pepper hair became a blur before my eyes.

  Anthony licked my bud and sucked at it, occasionally dipping his tongue lower to tease me and ready me for more. His arms were still wrapped around me, and he tugged at my mound, holding my lips open to create the perfect tension around my clit and expose it fully.

  A couple weeks earlier, I’d thought London gave the best head ever. I was wrong. Anthony was making me feel things I didn’t even know were possible, and with each flick of his tongue, he continued to surpass London.

  I had to fight every instinct, impulse, and urge I felt. I wanted to do nothing more than throw back my head and scream in ecstasy as Anthony worked me to a mind-blowing orgasm. But I also didn’t want to draw unwanted attention, or cry out so loudly that the receptionist—or security—came running in.

  Fighting back my desire to scream caused every muscle in my body to tense, and the added tenseness added to the intensity of my orgasm. Instead of screaming, I relegated to moaning, panting, and digging my fingers into the back of Anthony’s head as he relentlessly sucked on my pussy.

  I was still shaking and throbbing when Anthony stood up. Without pause or hesitation, he quickly undid his trousers and slammed his body forward, jamming his hard cock inside of me. It was fast, forceful, and sudden…but, dear god, it felt amazing.

  Like I said, I was still shaking and throbbing, and having Anthony’s cock inside me gave me something to shake and throb against. His heat, his size, and his movement came with friction, and that friction was going to make me come again…very soon.

  I leaned my torso back a little, away from Anthony, and put one arm behind me, and the other near Anthony’s hipbone. I wasn’t very experienced at sex and was just doing what felt right—and that particular move felt like it gave me a little more leverage.

  I hoisted my lower half up just a bit, and I was able to elevate myself to exactly where I wanted to be, so that when Anthony pumped back and forth, in and out of me, I could pump back and ride him.

  “Ohhhh,” he sighed when I did this, though whatever word or sound he uttered wasn’t anything that could be spelled. It was an awesome noise that said what no word could about the intensity of the moment and his level of satisfaction.

  I was enjoying every single aspect of our fucking—from the feel of Anthony inside my tight hole and his sounds of pleasure, to the sight of what was happening between my legs. From the angle I was at, I had the perfect view of his hips and pelvis, and each time he pulled back, I watched as the base of his swollen dick slid out of me, slickened by my juices.

  Anthony reached to my chest and starting pulling at my cami. Other than the bra beneath it, it was the only piece of clothing I still had on, and he was trying to remove it.

  “You better take this off…now,” he stipulated between short breaths. “You’re gonna make me come soon—real soon—and I have a feeling it’s gonna be messy.” Anthony’s breath grew even quicker as he fumbled with my shirt. He was making more of those noises that can’t be put into words, and it was driving me crazy.

  I removed my hands from behind me and leaned forward, into Anthony, to remove my shirt. As I lifted my arms over my head and pulled it off, I felt Anthony’s hands slam down hard on my hips, pulling me off of the desk and pushing me closer on top of him so that my pussy inched farther down onto his cock.

  I tossed my cami to the ground and bore into Anthony, wrapping my arms around his neck as he continued to steer my body with his hands.

  “You’re gonna make me come so hard,” he moaned as he gazed into my eyes. His dirty talk and heavy breathing made me throb again—and that was all I needed. I started writhing against Anthony, digging into him.

  My pussy contracted and quivered as I came, and the sensation of it made Anthony whimper. He brought his open mouth to mine and kissed me in the most primal, yet passionate manner, where he kinda just lapped and licked his tongue forward, outside of his mouth, hoping to come in contact with any part of my mouth, face, or body. He continued kissing me this way for a few more seconds before stopping, keeping his mouth perfectly still in front me of me, and gasping.

  The next thing I knew, I felt a great emptiness as Anthony removed his cock from me; then I felt several hot, thick streams of fluid splatter against me, from my belly button to my tits and beyond. One spurt of his cum nearly reached my chin but fell short, and I was relieved that Anthony had had the foresight to warn me about my shirt. If I�
��d still had it on, it would have been covered, and there would have been no way I could have left his office like that.

  “Oh, Kirby,” Anthony said, staring down at the space between us. I saw his eyes go back and forth between his delating dick and my cum-covered body, and my eyes did the same thing.

  Anthony was still mostly dressed, though his pants and boxers were down around his ankles. He bent down to lift them up and kept his eyes focused on me as he did.

  “I wish I was 20 years younger,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because if I was, I’d fuck you again…right now,” he said. “But I’m a little too old for a repeat performance that soon. Though, trust me, you’re challenging my limits.”

  Anthony glanced down at his crotch, and my eyes followed. He’d pulled his pants up, but his dick was still hanging out—and though it had gone limp just a few moments earlier, it was already growing hard again.

  Anthony shook his head, sighed, and stroked his cock a few times before reluctantly covering it with his clothing. He zipped up as he walked over to the wall again, where he pressed the button that opened the panel to the bar. He opened a drawer I hadn’t seen before and extracted a hand towel and a few prepackaged moist towelettes, which he handed to me.

  I took them, and Anthony went back to the bar to get another towel. He came back over a moment later and got down on the floor beside me, stooped next to where the sniffer had landed when it fell off of the desk. As I proceeded to clean myself, Anthony proceeded to clean the floor, though he watched me more closely than he watched his own actions.

  “You were amazing,” he said as he watched me wet down my torso with the towelettes. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that that happened.” He licked his lips as he continued to watch me.

  “But you know this can’t happen again,” he said, turning his head toward the spot of brown liquor he was trying to sop up from the carpet. “Not for a while, I mean…not until we figure out what’s going on with this whole blackmail thing. We have to confirm whether or not it’s Willard and deal with it—and we have to be on guard until that happens.”