Daphne Vs. Daddy

by Mona Cox

  Is it my imagination or does Nadia seem to suspect that something is going on—or was going on—between Alicia and I?

  "Pardon me for interrupting, but I believe that's what Alicia was about to say."

  Nadia seems slightly annoyed that I jumped in and protected Alicia, but she continues on and we discuss my portfolio. We spend a few hours going through a series of back and forth questions and answers until Nadia says, "Let's adjourn for lunch. We can take a quick 30 minute break, and then finish for the day."

  We all agree. As the lawyers file out, Nadia turns to me. She is standing close enough for me to smell her perfume. She has one hand on the conference table and she is leaning toward me. "Care to join me for a drink tonight?" she asks. She poses it as a question, but by the tone of her voice, it comes out more like a command.

  I notice that Alicia is listening because she pauses for a moment in the doorway. She's pretending not to notice, but it's obvious to me that she can hear every word.

  "I'm not sure," I say. "I think I may already have plans."

  "Oh come on," Nadia nudges. "Just one drink. I promise I don't bite."

  "I suppose I can manage one drink," I say reluctantly.

  With that she pats her hand on mine, smiles, and leaves the room.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  134

  Alicia

  "Girl, you wouldn't believe the day I've had," I say to Ashley.

  We're leaving the Equinox gym after a particularly intense Pilates session. The instructor—Honey—always seems to take us right to our breaking point.

  Like it's not enough to do a roll up, but she makes us add weighted exercise bags into the mix as well. I swear she hardly gives us a moment to catch our breath either—double straight leg stretch, to shoulder bridge, to double leg kick, to… well, you get the picture.

  The next day leaves me so sore that I don't want to leave me bed.

  It's a good thing Ashley agrees to this kind of torture because without her motivation, it'd be tough to stay committed to this.

  "Tough day at the office?" Ashley laughs. "Did some billionaire cry about you not balancing his portfolio to his standards, or something?"

  "Stop it," I laugh, playfully slapping her on her arm. "That's not it. Remember how I was running late this morning?"

  "Yeah, and…? C'mon, you can't leave a girl in suspense."

  "Well…" I continue, "I may or may not have made out with a billionaire on the 6 train."

  "O-M-G, what?" Ashley squeals. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "Look at this face," I say, giving her my most serious glare. "Do I look like I'm fucking kidding?"

  "So, like what exactly happened? Because people don't usually just make out with random men on the 6 train."

  "I don't know," I shrug. "It just happened."

  Ashley laughs again. "I bet someone Snapchatted that shit when you weren't looking. Or maybe they posted it to Instagram … you know, on that one 'subway creatures' account."

  "Eww… shut up!" I say playfully. I slap her arm again. "You're so mean. I can't believe we're BFFs sometimes."

  Of course, Ashley is like my ride or die, but I have to throw her a little shade with the hard time she's giving me. But Ashley continues to poke fun.

  "You could be Insta famous and not even know it," she says. "But seriously, what's the problem? A billionaire is kind of a catch … or wait … don't tell me. Is he like 80 years old with a triple chin?"

  "Ew, stop Ash," I say. "He was—is—super hot. That bod of his was something else, but I haven't told you the worst part about all of this."

  "What's that?"

  "He's a Carter Jeffries client."

  "What? Okay, now this is getting good. We should go grab a drink together so you can give me all of the juicy details," Ashley says.

  "I don't know… it's a work night, and I have an early morning."

  "What are you, like 30 years old or something? You're starting to sound like my parents, Alicia. That's some scary shit."

  "Fine, fine, fine …" I say. "You don't have to be so dramatic. Way to guilt me. Where are we going?"

  "Let's go to Bemelman's—at the Carlyle. It's a splurge, but you can't beat the piano. And c'mon, their La Pore cocktail is borderline orgasmic."

  After Ashley and I change into more appropriate attire, we meet at Bemelman's Bar. Sure enough, a soft jazz piano is playing in the background.

  Ashley arrives before I do and I spot her sitting at the bar. I approach her and pull out a barstool for myself.

  "Girl, don't look behind you!" she squeals.

  Of course, as soon as someone tells me to not look at something, I reflexively do. Immediately, I know what she's talking about. Twenty feet away, I spot Nadia and Derek sitting at a table.

  "That's your boss, right?" Ashley asks. "Is that a new boyfriend of hers? He's kind of hot."

  "Oh god, Ash—hide me," I say, slinking down in my barstool. "Remember that billionaire I mentioned earlier?"

  "Of course."

  "Well, that's him."

  "What the fuck?" she says. "Just when I thought things couldn't get weirder." I can see a genuine sense of shock on her face.

  "Shit, Derek sees me," I whisper. It's clear that I'm in their line of sight and Nadia is pretending to not notice that I'm here.

  I look over again and Derek is now waving us over to his table.

  "Looks like you better go say hi," Ashley suggests. "He seems pretty insistent."

  We grab our drinks and walk over.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask casually.

  "I'm here—I mean here at the Carlyle—just until my apartment is decorated."

  "Oh nice," I say, and then I immediately kick myself for sounding so stupid. 'Nice?' Is that really what just tumbled out of my mouth?

  "You ladies should join us," Derek offers. "Pull up a chair."

  "Oh, we don't want to interrupt your date," I say.

  "Yeah, Derek, we should let these two friends enjoy their evening together," Nadia chimes in.

  From the annoyance in her eyes, it's clear to me that we are ruining her date.

  "Nonsense! Sit down. The more the merrier," Derek insists.

  I figure he isn't going to take no for an answer, so Ash and I decide to sit down and join them after all.

  "What are you two ladies up to tonight?" he asks.

  "A little Pilates, a little dinner—and here we are," I laugh. "Exciting, right?"

  "Sounds like a decent night to me," Derek smiles. "And now you're here with me. Even better."

  Just then, Nadia clears her throat.

  "It's getting late," she says, pretending to look at her watch. "I'm going to call it a night."

  She turns to Derek and asks, "Dinner tomorrow night?"

  "I—uh—I'll have to check my calendar," he replies.

  "Well, whatever's on your calendar, cancel it," she says with a devilish grin.

  "You bet," he replies, not wanting to argue, but I can detect some reluctance. "See you tomorrow."

  We watch as Nadia grabs her purse and walks off.

  Ashley, suddenly feeling like the third wheel, looks down at her phone.

  "I better cut out too," she says. "I have a date with Netflix. You guys enjoy yourselves."

  She leans down and gives me a quick hug before leaving.

  Now that I'm alone with Derek, I'm scared. That confident girl on the 6 train is gone.

  This man's a billionaire. He's older and wiser, and I suddenly feel so sure that he's going to see right through all of my earlier bravado and see me for what I really am—a young, driven, 20-something just trying to find her place in the world.

  But Derek cuts my thoughts short.

  He looks straight at me. "I'm going to take you upstairs and fuck you."

  I'm caught off guard. What did he just say? My pulse quickens and my confidence returns. Two can definitely play this game.

  "You sound so sure about that," I purr devilishly.
"But can you really handle all of this?"

  135

  Alicia

  OK, can I just say that there must be a big reason why Derek is a billionaire, and I think I figure out why by the time he takes me upstairs to his hotel room.

  Like, first off, he has more confidence than any man I've ever met. There was almost no question as he walked toward the elevator in terms of if I was going to follow. He just knew. Sure, he looked at me and smiled, but from the way he looked at me, and the way I looked back at him, it was like I knew I was going to go up with him too.

  Oh wow will you just listen to me? I sound like some little deer trapped by some headlights.

  Well, let me just say babe, that’s what it pretty much feels like.

  And now that I’m walking through his room, all of a sudden his arm grabs me.

  My heart skips a beat and I’m like remembering I have MACE in my purse.

  But this isn’t a MACE moment. It’s a Moaning Moment. Get it? Like Moaning Mondays from Mona Cox? Sorry, I couldn’t help but give her a plug, okay?

  Anyways, let's get back to the sexy sex and let me not distract you by being weird. The last thing that I want is for you or Derek to stop what you're doing because I’m being a dork. Oh no, just thinking about that is making me so not wet. Like can you actually get dry when you get turned off?

  But whatevs babe, you’re not gonna get dry.

  Because Derek is pretty much in charge right now.

  He yanks on my hair, forcing my head back, and lays his mouth against my neck. I feel my whole body burning up, his closeness driving me completely mad. Moving suddenly, he presses his hand against my crotch, bunching up the front of my dress. A moan leaves my lips at once, his pressure on my pussy making my head spin. I can already feel my wetness soaking my black lace thong, desire coursing mercilessly through me.

  “You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” he whispers against my ear, his lips brushing my skin. “Well, you’ve found your match, Alicia. And once I’m inside of you, you won’t be moaning … you’ll be screaming.”

  The moment his last words leave his mouth, he applies more pressure with his hand, forcing me to part my legs. Still yanking on my hair, he straightens my head, my eyes locking on his. There’s a fire in his expression, an almost too violent need for dominance. It seems he is right; I’ve found my match. But I’m not one to give up.

  I reach for his mouth, pressing my lips against his, but I don’t start kissing him, no. I bite his lower lip with almost enough strength to draw blood. He doesn’t complain, though. Staring into my eyes, he endures the pain, his hand firmly nestled between my thighs. He opens his hands, tangling his fingers deeper into my hair, and pins me against the wall with his body; then, pulling back slightly, a mischievous grin lights up his face.

  “I can’t wait to hear you beg for my cock,” he says, certainty flickering in his eyes. Who does he think he his? I’ve never begged for a man’s cock, and I won’t start now. Even if he’s the most perfect man that has ever pinned me against a wall.

  I reach for his crotch, flattening the palm of my hand against the bulging in his dress pants, and then curl my fingers harshly around the thick and long shape there.

  “We’ll see about that,” I tell him, grinning back at him.

  “Oh, yes. Don’t doubt that.” He leans forward then, my eyelids drooping as our lips touch. I open my mouth wide, both our tongues wrestling against each other as if they were lost in a battle for lust and survival. Kissing wildly, I take my hand out of his crotch and start untucking his crisp white shirt, my fingers tugging eagerly on the fabric. Once I’m done, I grab his belt, but he presses his body against mine so harshly that I have to let go. I place my hands on his lower back, under his shirt, and let the warmness of his skin spill onto my fingers. I open my hands, the tip of my fingers meeting the hem of his pants as I pull him into me, our bodies locked in a frenzied kiss.

  Placing both his hands on my waist, he slowly hikes my dress up to my waist, the tight fabric hugging my hips. There’s a tenuous buzz under my skin, an unconscious response to the way he’s holding me. My brain is working overtime, lost in a labyrinth of imagination, trying to picture all the things Derek will do to me, or that I’ll do to him. Working in tandem with my brain, my pussy becomes even wetter, my drenched thong sticking to my skin. He brushes two of his fingers down my waist, and moving inward, runs them under my dress and over my thong.

  “Someone’s very wet,” he whispers against my ear. I can’t see his face, but the way he speaks tells me that devilish grin of his is coloring his face.

  As if my brain was suddenly struck by lightning, my hands dart out to his chest, and I hook my fingers on his shirt’s collar. I tug on the fabric harshly, ruining his shirt as I make the buttons pop out and scatter around the floor. The moment his shirt is open, I press the palms of my hands against his chest, closing my eyes as I feel the hard lines of his muscles under my fingertips. His torso is all hills and valleys; each muscle of his is perfection. I let my fingers trace the contour of his pectorals, and then I let them go over his washboard abs, counting the perfect rows of muscles until I finally meet the hem of his pants.

  With my fingers hooked on his belt, I pull him into me, our bodies pressed as we kiss once more. I start unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, my whole body filled with anxious anticipation. With a metallic clink, I unclasp the belt, my fingers then focusing on the next task at hand: unbuttoning his pants. As fast as I can, I open each one of the buttons, his cock pressing against his boxer briefs as if it were desperate to get out. My heart starts to pound fast as his cock, still trapped by the fabric of his underwear, brushes against my knuckles. I can already feel all rationality fading away from me, all of me being guided only by base desires. Just the way I like it.

  I turn my hand around, grasping his cock backhandedly and feeling his massiveness against the palm of my hand. A shiver goes up my spine as I realize that soon enough this cock will be inside of me, his thickness sliding over my wet folds and lodging itself inside of me as my naked body burns. Guided by impulse, I start moving my hand up and down, slowly flicking my wrist as I stroke his member over his underwear. I can barely think straight as my fingers trace the contour of something so perfect. Have I ever been with a man this huge? I doubt it… Oh, I seriously doubt it.

  Letting go of his cock, I grab his boxer briefs by the hemline and tug them down with both hands, his pulsing cock jumping out at once. I grab it immediately, wrapping my fingers tightly around his flesh. His warmness seeps into my skin, crawling up my spine and up to my brain. I can almost feel a barrage of hormones coursing through my body, desire taking control of me. We are still kissing, our lips locked in wild embrace as I move my hand back and forth, stroking him and marveling at his size.

  Pulling back from my kiss, he rests his lips against my neck, nibbling at my skin. I let a slight moan escape my fingers, my mind adrift on a sea of pleasure. My hand starts to move faster, matching the rhythm of my breathing.

  “You like it, don’t you?” he says, looking at me as if he were in absolute control. I say nothing, simply gritting my teeth as my hand keeps on working his cock. “Now imagine it in your mouth,” he continues, his voice numbing my rational mind. Almost immediately I picture myself on my knees, parting my lips so that his glans can slide inside of my mouth. My imagination pulling the strings of my body; I feel all strength leaving my legs, my knees buckling. Before I even know what I’m doing, I place both my hands on his chest and push him. He takes one step back, not a trace of surprise on him as I go down to my knees.

  I grab his cock again, cupping his balls with my free hand as I stroke him. I barely blink as I take in the sight of his mast, the gleaming tip calling to me. The moment he rests his hands on my head, I’m already leaning in, my slightly parted lips adjusting to the curve of his glans. As my mouth touches his cock, I’m immediately hit by his salty and manly flavor, a cocktail of power and lust rolling over my tongue.
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  I open my mouth wider, allowing him to feed one inch of his cock inside of my mouth. His glans resting on top of my tongue, I suck it firmly, leaning in and making his shaft roll over my lips. I’m making a real effort, taking his entire shaft inside of me. He’s the longest I’ve ever had, and damn, it feels good. And not only is he long, he’s also thick—his cock fills my mouth in such a way that my insides clench, my pussy anticipating how devastatingly good it will feel to have him ravaging me.

  Grabbing locks of hair, he starts to guide my movements, my head bobbing back and forth as his shaft takes control of my mouth. Slowly thrusting, he goes deeper each time I go forth, only easing down when the tip of his cock finally rubs the back of my throat. The moment I have all of him inside of me, I hold my position, my mouth completely filled with him. I feel it pulsing against my tongue and against the inside of my cheeks, his mast holding promises of lust and ravenous desire.

  With my eyes still closed, I let his cock slide back out and then I go all in once more. I start to go as fast as I can, his member sliding in and out of my mouth at a breakneck speed. He keeps holding me by the hair, keeping my movements controlled as he thrusts slightly, literally fucking my mouth.

  “If your mouth feels like this,” he says, and I open my eyes and look up at him, “I can’t imagine how your pussy will feel like.”

  I take his cock out of my mouth, and grabbing it, I start stroking him while I show him the most devilish smile I can produce.

  “It’ll totes feel like nothing you’ve ever had before,” I tell him, my hand never stopping. He doesn’t respond; he simply holds my gaze, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a teasing smile.

  “What the hell does ‘totes’ mean?” he asks me.

  I just roll my eyes. And my tongue.

  He shudders.

  A sudden moan tumbles out of my lips as he pulls on my hair, making me go up to my feet. I let my back hit the wall, my hands going to his chest; I slide my fingers up to his shoulders, forcing his shirt down his arms. With my eyes locked on his, I then tug at his pants and boxer briefs, sending them flying down to his ankles. He kicks off his polished shoes and steps out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor.