Cowboy Daddy

by Hannah McBride

  “Well, the lead detective, uh…her name’s Sal…Sal Foster. She wants to know all about Trent’s enemies and rivals, and also anyone that he fired recently who could hold a grudge against him, which…isn’t actually that many people,” he explained, shrugging and pushing a hand through his greying hair. “I gave her a list the other night that I’d printed out…of everyone who Trent had fired from the company, but the last one was over a year ago.”

  “Huh. I’m pretty sure if someone was mad about it, they would have acted sooner than that.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” Michael nodded. “And uh…she found a hair the other night that the Forensics team had missed. She took it away to get tested but…I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

  “And what about the enemies and rivals?”

  “That’s just it. He didn’t really have any. No one who you’d really call an enemy. There were a couple of rivals here and there, the main one being uh…Frank Morgan but…that’s about it really. And none of them would ever do something like this.”

  Jamia frowned deeply. “No…no, I guess not…” She stood up rather suddenly, so fast it made her feel slightly dizzy and she staggered back a little.

  “Oh. Are you alright?” Michael caught her elbow.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” she mumbled, pushing her hair back. “Just uh…need a bit of air.”

  “It’s probably the sight of the blood. It does that to me too.”

  “Probably.” She gave him a small smile. He seemed like a nice guy. Tyler was right. He couldn’t have done it.

  The two of them walked to the door and back out into the corridor where Tyler was waiting. He grinned as he looked up from his phone and put it back in his pocket. “Hey guys.”

  “Hey.” Jamia smiled and reached for his hand.

  Tyler took it, linking their fingers together. “I’ll give her the rest of the tour, Michael. Thanks for your help!”

  “No problem, Tyler,” Michael gave them both a wave as he headed back to his own office. “And if there’s any other questions you have about the case, I’d be happy to help. I just want whoever it is caught. I don’t care if it’s you, me or the cops that do it.”

  “I agree,” called Tyler. “Thanks Michael.” He gave him a thumbs up over his shoulder, then gave Jamia a quick tour of the rest of the offices, which was all pretty boring to him, but she seemed to find it interesting, or at least pretended to.

  When they got back onto the street some twenty minutes later, Tyler was more than ready to do something fun with the rest of their day. They’d had a late breakfast, having slept in, and now it was mid-afternoon, not time for dinner yet, and a few hours for them to enjoy themselves before it got dark.

  “Know what time it is?” he asked Jamia with a grin.

  She took her phone out to look at the time and was about to open her mouth to tell him when he interrupted her. “It’s yacht time!”

  “Oh God…”

  ***

  Having been reminded about the hair by talking to Jamia, Michael was beginning to wonder whether there had been any results on that front, whether any tests had been run and they’d found out who it belonged to. After that, nearly an entire week went by without any further news, and he was beginning to get impatient. In the end, he could wait no longer, and he sent a text message to Sal.

  “Any news on the hair? In fact, any news at all? How’s the investigation going? Haven’t heard anything for a few days.”

  He sent it off, then went back to dealing with the business accounts. He’d been snowed under with work since he took over the running of the company, but he didn’t mind too much. The work was his passion.

  A couple of minutes later, he got a message back.

  “I’ll come over and see you tonight. Will you be at the office?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Till what time?”

  “What time are you coming?”

  “When will it be quiet?”

  “After 7.”

  “I’ll be there at 8.”

  He did wonder why she wanted to be there when it was quiet, but he supposed it was so she didn’t get bothered with lots of people asking questions about the case, or maybe so she could get the rest of her work done first during the day then come over after that. Although, she had specifically asked when it would be quiet.

  He tried not to overthink it too much, and just got on with his work.

  As usual, he stayed late, so it wasn’t a problem staying a little longer to wait for Sal to come over. By the time she swung by at eight, he was the only person left in the building apart from the all night security guard who had just settled in for his long shift down on the front desk.

  Sal sent him a text when she was down on the ground floor, and he took the elevator down to meet her. The doors pinged open and she was standing right outside. She smiled at him and stepped in right away. “Where would you like to speak?” he asked, giving her a friendly smile back, interested to hear what the updates on the case would be.

  “Your office will be fine,” she replied. “Is there a couch in there? We may as well be comfy, sweetie.”

  “Uh yeah, there is actually,” he nodded.

  “Good.”

  Michael led them both up to his office and closed the door behind them, more out of habit than anything else, seeing as there was no one else in the building.

  Sal immediately took her jacket off and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “You look stressed,” she smiled.

  “Well, I am very overworked, I suppose,” he mumbled, shrugging a bit. “But it’s fine.”

  “Would you like a massage? I’m very good at them.”

  He stared at her, a bit flustered. That had certainly been unexpected. Had he even heard her correctly? He was just going to pretend that hadn’t happened. “Er…did you say there was something you wanted to speak to me about? Some…kind of progress.”

  “Always the professional, aren’t you, sweetie?” She undid the top button of her shirt then flapped her hand in front of her face. “Phew, it’s hot in here.”

  His eyes widened a little.

  “You’re more obsessed with this case than I am,” she continued. “How about we just…relax for a while, huh? Everything’s in hand…” She took a couple of steps towards him, undoing one more button on her shirt, her cleavage starting to pop out and her bra on show slightly.

  “Wh-what about…what about the hair?” he stammered, his eyes naturally gravitating down to her voluptuous breasts. They were actually rather attractive, but he’d never noticed before; they’d always been covered up by her shirt and her work jacket.

  “The hair is getting tested. I should have the results by next week. Now enough about the case, Michael…why don’t you just…” She closed the gap between them and reached up with one finger, placing it over his slightly trembling lips. “Hush,” she whispered, locking eyes with his and gazing deep into them.

  It had been a very long time indeed since a woman had come onto him, and he was fairly sure that was what was going on. There was no other explanation for her strange behavior.

  With her other hand, she danced her fingers over his belt and began to expertly undo it without even needing to look, never once taking her eyes off of his.

  His mouth was open in surprise and shock, not even knowing what to say. This was definitely unprofessional of her but then, he supposed she had been rather unprofessional throughout the whole of the case; calling him sweetie all the time and flirting and everything. This was just the final icing on the cake.

  “B-but…” he managed to stammer.

  “Oh just relax, sweetie, you’re all stiff,” she smirked, biting her bottom lip and chewing on it seductively, getting red lipstick on her top teeth before adding in a husky whisper, “And not in the way I want you to be.” With that, she dropped straight to her knees in front of him and used two hands to finish undoing his belt and pants.

  Smooth, calm and confident, she p
ushed his now open pants down to his knees, then reached her hand into his boxers and wrapped her slender fingers around his cock, slipping it out.

  Michael gasped, his eyes wide. What the hell was going on? Was this…was this really happening? He was frozen to the spot, unable to move or react, but his body was beginning to, even if his mind wasn’t.

  It had been so long since anyone had touched him, he started to grow erect almost immediately in her soft, beautiful hands as she manipulated and twisted his length, tugging and pulling on it to bring him to full hardness. Once she was satisfied, she leaned forward and enclosed her lips around the tip, swirling her tongue around.

  Michael’s gasps soon turned into moans. There was no backing out of this now, and he didn’t particularly want to anymore. It felt…good.

  Sal definitely knew what she was doing. She held him with one hand by the base of his dick, and kept her other hand on his thigh to steady herself and him, gripping him tight to keep him from moving away.

  Once she was comfortable, she began to move more, sliding her head down onto his dick, taking him in, inch by inch until she was gagging on him. She choked and carried on, forcing herself to deep throat him, pressing her nose into his grey pubes.

  “Ohhh Jesus,” Michael groaned and reached out with one hand to support himself on the wall, his legs feeling slightly weak.

  She picked up on it and momentarily placed both her hands on his thighs, pushing him backwards and shuffling herself on her knees, so that his back was fully rested against the wall for support. That was why she’d asked for a couch originally, but in the end, they hadn’t needed it. This would do fine. It was how she wanted it to be.

  Now in their new position, she carried on, bobbing her head back and forth around him and swirling her tongue. She liked to push herself right to the edge, where she was choking and gagging and about to puke, making all kinds of disgusting porn star noises. She knew it turned the guys on to see her put effort in like that, and Michael was a full red-blooded male just like any other, despite being slightly older.

  He moaned in pure pleasure and pushed one hand into her hair.

  That was it. She could tell he was getting into it now, and truly starting to relax and enjoy himself.

  She swished her tongue up and down, digging into the ridges of his cock and following some of the veins, taking time to explore each inch of him, then pulling back and nudging her tongue into his slit to taste his salty precum.

  “Oh God,” he gasped, his hips jolting forwards a bit, unable to help himself.

  She placed both her hands on his thighs again and pushed him back to the wall, keeping control, and deepthroating him some more. His cock was completely soaked in her spit and bile; some of it slipping out and sliding down onto his balls, even dripping along his thighs. The two of them were making quite a mess.

  After a while, she pulled back to take a gasp, her eyes watering and her make up running, her lipstick smeared half all over her face and a lot of it on his dick.

  “Fuck my mouth,” she murmured breathlessly, looking up at him with hungry, desperate eyes. “Please,” she whined, really pulling out all the stops for him now. “Take control. Fuck my mouth.”

  By this time, Michael was lost to the moment, and at her words, he really began to let go. He never thought he’d hear such a beautiful woman beg him like that, and he did exactly as she asked. He placed both his hands on her head, in her hair, gripping it in his fists. She stopped moving and stayed still for him, her lips parted, mouth open and waiting.

  He moved his hips forward and pushed his dick past her open lips. She kept them wide to accommodate his girth and he gave a little gasp at the feeling of her around him again, so wet and warm. Immediately he began to thrust, holding her head as he slammed wildly down her throat, feeling close to his climax. He listened to the sloppy sounds of her gagging around him and it only urged him on.

  He began grunting and dirty talking to her, a part of him emerging that he hadn’t seen for years. “Yeah, that’s it…that’s it, you dirty little bitch…take it…take it all…choke on it…”

  He wrapped one arm around the back of her head and held her tight, his other still gripping her hair as he finally exploded right down her throat, his dick so deep in her that she didn’t even need to swallow, didn’t even taste him – it just shot straight down.

  Michael’s body shook and twitched, his legs going weak. He swore and kept his grip on her until he was completely empty, not letting her take a breath.

  She kept her eyes tight shut, her lungs aching a bit but keeping calm.

  Finally, he released her, and she pulled back, panting and taking in air. She opened her eyes and looked up at him grinning, her lips all swollen and covered in spit, some of it dripping down her chin onto the floor.

  “Oh God….oh my God…” Michael panted and muttered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, his heart racing, trying to get his breathing back to normal. His dick was still out of his pants, slowly going soft and returning to its regular size.

  After a minute or so, the shame and shock of what they’d just done quickly returned, and Michael snapped back to his senses. He hurriedly pulled up his boxers and pants, tucking himself away and doing the zipper, button and belt up.

  Sal smirked and turned away from him, then walked over and picked up the jacket she’d tossed onto the chair.

  “I do hope you know how to keep a secret, sweetie,” she whispered, turning round to face him again and batting her eye as she slid her arms back into the jacket.

  He stared.

  “It wouldn’t do for people to find out…that Michael East…acting CEO of PII had engaged in sexual relations with the lead detective investigating Trent Preston’s murder now, would it? Somehow, I don’t think it’d look very good for you, sweetie…”

  What was this? His mind raced. Was this…was she blackmailing him? How could she do this? This was her idea! She was the one who’d given him a blowjob. She had come onto him! But of course, no one would ever believe that. She was young and gorgeous, he was a greying guy pushing sixty. Why the hell would she want him?

  “I’ll be in touch when I can about the case, sweetie,” she continued, walking over to him and brushing her finger over his lips again as she had done at the beginning. “But until then, you’re just going to have to stop asking questions…and be a patient little boy. Do you think you can do that for me, Michael? Do you?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. And if you do, I’ll have much more for you where that came from. If you liked my mouth, imagine how you’ll like my pussy…or my ass…”

  His mind boggled at the thought, his lust betraying his logic for a moment.

  “Can you do that for me, Michael?”

  He nodded again.

  “I need to hear you say it.”

  “Y-yes,” he mumbled.

  “Good. I’ll show myself out. I’m not an idiot.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  After leaving Michael in a state of shock, Sal Foster jumped in her car which was in the lot downstairs, and after spending a few minutes fixing her make-up and hair, headed straight across town, to a place she knew very well indeed, although she hadn’t visited in person for a week.

  They’d been expecting her, and as she approached the big complex on the outskirts of the city, the guard on duty pressed a button and the electronic gates opened up wide for her.

  Two men in one night. It wouldn’t be a first for Sal, but this was a business call more than anything else.

  She parked the car up on the stone driveway and then approached the door, pressing the buzzer.

  A few moments later, it was opened, by Frank Morgan.

  Chapter Eight

  After a glass of whiskey in Frank’s personal barroom, he led her through to the lounge and they sat together in the plush, leather armchairs to discuss business.

  “Paid a visit to Michael tonight, as instructed.”

  Frank smiled and
swirled his finger around the rim of the glass. “Good girl. Did you do what you do best?”

  “I did.”

  “And did he enjoy it?”

  Sal smiled. “He’s a man, isn’t he?”

  “Indeed,” Frank chuckled, then took a sip of his second whiskey. “And the hair?”

  “Disposed of.”

  “If needs be, we can throw Antonio under the bus for this. He’s expendable, and he can take one for the team.”

  “True, but the press will find out Antonio works for you. They’ll have a field day.”

  “Not if I erase his past…” Frank mused, mulling it over. He stood up and walked over to the fireplace. It was one of the fake ones, but it was very realistic. He flicked it on, then returned to his seat.

  “Wouldn’t that require him to keep his mouth shut?”

  “He will keep his mouth shut. I know his home address…and I know where his girlfriend lives. And he knows what I’m capable of.” Frank paused and took another sip of his drink. “I hope it won’t come to that. Is there anyone we can…frame?”

  “I’m working on it,” Sal assured him.

  “I’m relying on you. You’re my woman on the inside. You need to protect us, baby.”

  “I’m doing my best, Frankie…there’s some employees he fired, but the most recent was over a year ago. Maybe if one of them was to…freak out…have a history of mental illness…”

  “A history we can manipulate ourselves if needed,” Frank added.

  “Yeah exactly. He might have flipped, killed his former boss – “

  “And then killed himself.”

  Sal nodded and took a sip of her whiskey. She knew whoever they framed for this would have to ‘commit suicide’ and confess to the murder of Trent Preston in his suicide note. Everything else she could smooth out herself.

  “No offence, Frankie, but…why couldn’t you have made Trent’s death look like a suicide? You’ve got plenty of guys capable, it would have made this whole thing much easier…”

  “Because I hated him, Sal,” Frank grumbled, gazing into the fake fire, his eyes narrowed. “And I wanted the whole world to know that someone hated him enough to want to murder him. He was always so…nice. With his happy smile, and his positive outlook. He was so friendly…”