by Mona Cox
I slip my right hand down into my scrubs and inside of my plain-jane white cotton undies. I’ll need to start wearing sexier underwear to work if I’m going to be doing this more often. With a sigh of satisfaction and relief and tension all skyrocketing high, my fingers feel my wet, slippery clit and begin rubbing over it. Oh God, yes. It's amazing how good that feels.
I sag into the wall of the bathroom stall even further as I try to focus my eyes on my phone. To see what other instructions Dominic has sent me.
While you’re finger fucking yourself, I want you to imagine that I’m there, fucking you hard.
My head falls back with a thud against the cold metal wall and I squeeze my eyes tight as I rub harder. I’m imagining him fucking me from behind, grabbing my hair and slamming into me, smacking my ass, and…
Ohhhhhhh!
I cum, fireworks exploding behind my eyelids, trying so hard to fight the scream of joy wanting to erupt from me. It’s just washing over me in waves and as hard as I try, I can’t fight back the “Uh, uh, uh” grunting noises exploding from me.
“Are you okay?” I hear a voice call out.
Oh God. Oh fucking God. It’s my boss’ boss, Emily Vanderwalt. I shove my phone back into my pocket and straighten up.
“Oh yeah, just fine,” I call out but I can’t pretend and say that I sound perfectly normal. I sound guilty as fuck and there’s no way anyone within ten miles of me doesn’t know what I was just doing in this stall.
“Okay,” she says, and I can hear the hesitancy in her voice. “If you say so.”
“Yup, just fine!” I say over-brightly.
I wait until I hear her footsteps fade away and the bathroom door close behind her, before I whip my phone out.
I can’t text right now. Don’t text me anymore. I’ll talk to you tonight.
I have to wash my hands and I have to get to work. Break time is over and I have to start acting like an adult.
No matter how weak in the knees I feel.
12
Dominic
I look down at my phone and reread Daphne’s last abrupt message to me, worry washing over me. What if I was pushing her too hard? I just thought it’d be fun to sext with her. I hadn’t meant to drive her away. Surely she knows that I’m just kidding about the naughty little girl thing, right?
Maybe it was a step too far, what with our past familial relationship and all.
I shove my phone into my desk drawer with a frown. I’ll admit it, ever since I divorced Mary, I haven’t wanted to settle down. Sex, sex, nothing but hot, dirty, raw sex is all I’ve wanted and I just figured that’s all I’d ever get for the rest of my life.
And last week, I was perfectly content with that. I was more than content; I was happy. Settling down with one person was a shitastic idea with a side of stupidity. Where was the variety and fun in that? Why the hell would I agree to it, when I can get almost any woman I want, whenever I want?
But now that I’m looking at Daphne through the eyes of someone who wants to love her as a woman, not a little girl, I'm starting to realize that maybe sex, sex, nothing but hot, dirty, raw sex for the rest of my life is … a little shallow.
I look at the file in the upper left-hand corner of my desk. It’s for a client—a huge new client that I just closed with this morning. I should be shouting from the rooftops. It’s not every day that I sign a $500 million contract. I should be ecstatic over it.
Instead, all I can think is that I can’t wait to tell Daphne tonight. Everything is better when I can share it with her. And then I start to think about how much I want Daphne, and then I start to compose more sexts in my mind.
Which, I absolutely cannot keep doing. She asked me to stop, so I need to respect that boundary.
I’d wanted to sext with her until she came, and then spank the monkey and take a picture of my hard-on to send to her. That had been my super complicated, super grown-up plan.
Why is it that I turn back into a teenager around Daph? I’ve been horny before in my life, but not like this. It’s like I can’t ever be satisfied—that I can't finally have “enough” sex and not want any more. Even as I’m cumming inside of her, I’m always planning on how and where and when I’m going to fuck her next.
Now, as I look down at the bulge in my pants, I realize that even if I don’t send dick pics to her, I can take care of myself, at least right now. It won’t feel as good as tonight, when she wraps her soft hands around it, but I can do all right by myself. I’ve jacked off enough on lonely nights.
I hurry over and lock my office door, and then lean back against my desk, unzipping my Brooks Brothers slacks and taking my dick out. It's already almost fully engorged—purple and red veins running every which way on it and with a sigh of relief, I squirt some lotion I keep in my desk for just this purpose into my hand and start running it up and down my dick.
God, that feels amazing. I close my eyes, imagining spanking Daphne, her perky ass cheeks turning red under my hand, as she lies draped over my lap. Maybe I could convince her to wear her hair in pigtails and a short plaid skirt when she comes over tonight. Not that she did either of those things when she was a kid, but…
My hand is running up and down my dick faster, tighter, as I imagine spanking her until she begs for me to stop, and then making her get to her knees to suck my dick. I can use her pigtails as leverage…
I grab a tissue off my desk at just the last moment and catch my cum, trying to shoot across my office. It’d be hard to explain where white, sticky cum came from to the cleaning crew. Finally, finally, my dick has shot out everything it has and I sink back against my desk.
As nice as that was, though, I can’t wait for tonight. Jerking off without Daphne, just to the memory of her, simply isn't enough. Not anymore.
I seem to have become addicted to her, and even more bizarrely, I’m okay with that. I’m great with that.
Something I never thought I’d say.
13
Daphne
I look around the table, grinning. It’s girls’ night out with all my besties, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Everyone is always so busy right now with their boyfriends that it makes it hard to find time to get together, but tonight, we made it happen.
And even more awesome? Now I finally have a boyfriend of my own. After the last year of watching all of my best friends hook up with hot, sexy, rich men, it’s finally my turn, which is fucking awesome.
Even if I can’t tell them who it is.
I take a swig of my cosmo, unwilling to let that small detail ruin the happiness I’m feeling.
“Soooooooo…” Carla says with a huge grin, “tell us what happened last weekend. Your birthday and your,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “very special birthday present. Was it as amazing as you thought it’d be?”
Oh wow. I’d forgotten I’d even told them I was going to do that. That Daphne seemed so far away, like she was a different person than me. Fucking Roger seems like the world’s most awful idea—what had even possessed me to want to do that, let alone want to do that with another guy there too? Just … ewwww. Now if Dominic wanted to have a threesome, I bet he’d bring back a real sexy guy, someone ready to fuck me seven ways to Sunday.
I realize that everyone is just staring at me and I haven’t answered Carla’s question.
“No, it wasn’t,” I say baldly. “I’ve never been so bored in my life.”
“Really?” Gisele squeals in surprise. “How is that even possible? I mean, two giant dicks in one bed? Both of them focused just on me? Sounds like heaven.” She sighs happily, and I have to wonder for a moment if Gisele has actually been in a threesome already. Maybe Stone brought home a band member and they fucked until dawn.
“Well, turns out, they weren’t so much focused on me as they were on each other,” I say drily.
“What?” The babble of shocked voices echoes around the table as everyone just stares at me. I shrug.
“Roger was gay?” Lisa finally gets out.
“I knew there was something about him,” Gisele says. “Nice enough, but just not into your assets, if you know what I mean. Stone can’t keep his eyes off my ass when I walk. Roger…he just didn’t seem to care much about yours. And he paid no attention to your tits. Definitely something wrong with that.”
Huh. She’s right. I hadn’t thought about it before, but there had been a distinct lack of ass smacking as I walked by in the years that I dated Roger.
But not with Dominic. I can’t help myself—I grin happily. Dominic pretty much can’t keep his hands off any part of me. It’s been a week of ass grabbing, tit grabbing, and everywhere-else grabbing. That is, if he ever lets me go to begin with. It’s been hard to leave and go to work at the hospital every morning. Leaving his bed…
Torture.
“So, if Roger is playing for the other team, and so was the third party in your little birthday celebration, then why are you so happy?” Lisa’s sensible question cuts through my daydreams about surprising Dominic that night with a blowjob.
Oh.
Damn.
I mean, I’ve been friends with Carla and Lisa and Gisele for years. They know Dominic…as my father. My stepfather. I can’t say, “Surprise! I’m fucking my stepdad!” They’d hit the roof.
So I go with vague. Vague seems just as good of an idea as any, right? Right.
“Found a guy,” I say with a shit-eating grin. “And we’ve been fucking every night for a week. We ran into each other after I left Roger and his buddy to play grab-ass in the hotel room, and we ended up spending the night together. We’ve been together ever since.” I give an innocent shrug, as if it’s no big deal, but I’m pretty sure my shit-eating grin belies that.
“Ohhhhh! Daphne, that’s awesome!” Carla squeals. She leans across the table and squeezes my hand. “So, tell us all about him. What’s his name? Where does he work?”
I deliberately ignore her first question and go straight for the second one. “He’s a currency trader. Owns his own firm. He has like seven people on staff, so not a lot. Incredibly smart.”
He’s actually a billionaire, or he was when Mom and him were together. I haven’t exactly asked him for a net worth estimate since we’ve started fucking, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just grown even more rich since then. He isn’t someone to let anything get in his way.
“Wow, he sounds amazing,” Lisa says. “What did you say his name was?”
I shrug and take a sip of my cosmo, wanting to buy myself some time before answering. “It’s … well, I’ll tell you guys later. We’re not to that stage yet.”
“Not to the stage of telling your best friends what his name is?” Carla asks, confused.
“Yeah. We’re still getting to know each other.” Which is total bullshit; I know him better at this point than I had know Roger after dating him for five years, but I just didn’t want to see the look on their faces when I told them I was fucking my stepdad.
Awkward.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Carla’s just not giving up on this question. I narrow my eyes at her. Just drop it, I try to tell her telepathically, but she’s apparently not speaking Daphne Brain Waves today.
“Maybe, he’s some celebrity! Oh my God, Daphne has finally hooked up with Justin Timberlake!” Gisele crows.
Okay, so maybe I’ve always said that if I could fuck any music god on the face of the planet, it would be Justin Timberlake, and since Gisele is dating a rock star of her own, she probably thinks that it’s perfectly normal to go around fucking super stars.
But can I just say—I think Dominic is even better than a super star. He has the added benefit of being real, and here, and desiring me.
Which makes him sexier than even Justin, as hard as that is to believe.
“Listen, I have to go. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” I give everyone a hug and an air kiss and then head out the door to my apartment, on the corner of 52nd and 1st. The long walk helps me burn off some of the alcohol I’ve just consumed, but nothing will diminish the grin on my face. I may not have been able to share who Dominic is with my best friends, but that doesn’t stop me from smiling dreamily about him.
I round the corner and like I’d summoned him to me, there Dominic is standing, right next to a … limousine?
“Dominic!” I squeal, running toward him. He grabs me and pulls me up into his arms and grins down at me.
“I wanted to surprise you. What do you think about a dinner out at MASA?”
“MASA and a limousine?” I’m squealing again, but damn, being around Dominic really is a thousand times better than Justin Timberlake.
We get into some pretty heavy PDA, I won’t lie, but finally, he pulls away and says, “C’mon, let’s go. I can’t wait to feed you oysters by hand.”
I swear to god, I might just orgasm right here on the street, just listening to him say that. “Let’s,” I breathe, and crawl into the spacious limo.
Oh.
Wow.
I’ve never actually been in a limo before; my prom date my senior year had told me he was going to rent one and then that night, he showed up in his dad’s old beater, telling me the limos were all rented out. I’d been crushed, truth be told, I’d wanted to ride in a limo a lot more than I’d wanted to go to prom with the guy. That night was awful; I should’ve known when he hadn’t shown up with the limo that going out with him was a fuck-awful idea. Nothing like being drunkenly pawed at by your prom date who can’t even keep your name straight.
My name is not Diana, it’s Daphne, thankyouverymuch.
I shake the bad memories off.
“Wow, I love it,” I breathe. “And the silver is sexy.” I’m running my hand along the door panel gently. I’m not sure how much I should be touching everything.
“Pretty standard color scheme,” Dominic says with a laugh. “What did you expect, burnt orange?”
“Ewww…no. I hate orange. Ugliest color on the face of the planet. But I don’t know, I guess I just expected it to be black on the inside too, to match the paint job on the outside. Or maybe red ...? I guess I never thought about what a limo would look like on the inside.” I shrug. They didn’t exactly have a shit ton of limos on campus at med school.
But this limo seems to be living up to my every daydream … leather seats and dim lighting and a bar along the side and a sunroof and…
My phone goes off before I can find the button to open the sunroof, and I dig it out of my purse. A text from Carla is showing on my lock screen.
Just went to drop off something at your apartment but…
The next text pops up on my lock screen just as I finish reading the first.
ARE YOU FUCKING YOUR FATHER?
Whoops.
I let my head fall back against the headrest and I groan. So much for keeping this on the down low. I love Carla, and I love her ‘cause I know her. She’s already texted every last one of our friends, telling them everything that she saw. It’s just who she is.
Which means Dominic and I have been outed.
And I have no fucking clue what to do about it.
14
Dominic
As we head toward MASA, I eye Daphne’s legs, shown off to perfection by her short, tight, deep purple skirt and black flats. God, she looks amazing. I’m starting to calculate how long it is until we get to MASA and how many orgasms I can give her before then, when she starts digging in her purse for her phone. Pulling it out, her face goes white, and she groans, dropping her head back against the seat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. She looks shaken up; there’s just no way that whatever happening on the phone is good news.
She just shakes her head silently, eyes closed, and I move across the interior of the limo to sit next to her. I’d originally sat across from her so I could admire the view, but it seems as if more important things than me drooling over her body need to happen.
I gently take the phone out of her splayed fingers and read the texts.
/> Oh fuck.
“What are the chances that Carla will keep this to herself?” I ask, dropping the phone back into Di’s purse.
“You’d be better off betting that you’ll win the lottery, even when you haven’t bought a ticket,” she says, eyes still closed tightly against the world.
Right.
We pull up in front of MASA and come to a stop, the driver hurrying around to open up the door for us.
“Well, let’s go inside and eat and figure this out,” I say, brushing my fingertips against her smooth skin. I want nothing more than to kiss her and fuck her troubles away, but this situation calls for more than just fucking, and if I’m not going to be fucking Daph, I can at least be feeding her oysters by hand.
She opens her eyes and drops a kiss into the palm of my hand. “Okay,” she says with a sigh. I help her out, and then we head into the elegant sushi restaurant, the dark walnut wood paneling embracing me like an old friend. I’ve taken a lot of clients and a lot of dates out to MASA because they never fail to impress, but tonight…
Tonight, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Sure, Di’s friends finding out isn’t ideal, but having Daphne on my arm as we wind our way through the restaurant, back to the secluded alcove in the back that is reserved for regular patrons like me, is the best feeling in the world. I never want to leave her side.
The waiter seats us and with a bow, goes to retrieve Nikka Taketsuru malt whiskey, what I always order when I come. $3700 per bottle but damn, is it worth it.
Daphne looks at me, worry in her eyes, and I reach across the table to clasp her hands in mine.
“Listen, it’s going to be fine,” I say, running my thumb over her knuckles. “They were going to figure it out at some point, right?”
“Were they?” she asks, biting her lip hesitantly. “Were you thinking we’re going to be together long enough for someone to find out?”