These were the only times, though, when my laughter held something else underneath. I suppose I saw this coming. And not just for the past two weeks.
I arrive at our building, a two-story white stucco under the cypress trees on one of the best streets in Winter Park. The other vehicles in the miniature lot are all sixty thousand apiece. One is the lawyer's who rents downstairs. There's also the investment broker's SUV and the psychologist's imported sedan. Monday I had to go around and tell them about Thomas. They were all as stunned as me at the news.
Thomas is just one of those people, a force of nature, really, that you take for granted in life. Like the sun rising. Or the gentle breeze on your Sunday afternoon stroll.
I walk past the psychologist's Jaguar, making a note to have the parking lines freshly painted. The car is crooked, an inch into the next spot belonging to the broker's assistant. I will hear about this as de facto building manager. Trust me; a kindergarten class displays incredible maturity in comparison to a group of spoiled professional adults.
Thomas loves to roll his eyes at them and call them choice names, for my ears only, and never with any real venom. He's such a gentleman; he puts up with it all, their petty complaints, perpetual late rent.
I have to stand on tiptoes to reach the row of mailboxes. It really needs to be lowered, but Thomas claims he likes the view. My ass stretched to the max.
"I already got it."
Shit. It's him.
"Brian,” I wheel around. “What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you."
"Well you found me. What do you want?"
"A fresh start?"
"A start? Seems like we're long finished, don't you think?"
"I can still taste your lips, your breasts. You know how good I felt inside you,” he presses.
I look around, my heart pittering like a little white bunny. “Someone could hear you."
"I have nothing to hide."
"I do."
He nods. “You're right. I apologize. We'll go inside the office."
"I am not going in there with you."
With Daddy I feel like a princess, with Junior I'm just … prey.
"In that case, I'll go in and wait for you,” he says.
"The door is locked."
My own heart nearly ruptures as he shows me the keys.
"How did you get those?"
"From Monica. It's time I showed an interest in the family business, don't you think?"
I stand there, in shock.
He walks away, turns the corner. He's going in the private entrance, our special back stairs.
I race after him. “This isn't your family business. You have nothing invested."
Wow, Caroline. You just described yourself.
I want to pull his hand away as he unlocks the door, but I'm loath to make a scene. The best I can do is follow him in, still protesting.
"We looked at my father's will,” he closes the door behind us. “I stand to inherit half of this."
"That's insane. Thomas would never give this to you."
He eyes me. “What did you think, you were going to get it?"
My reaction is hard and fast. He catches my wrist in mid air before I can connect with a slap.
"Let go of me, you fucking asshole!"
"Submissives don't touch dominants,” he says simply.
"You're not a dominant and I'm sure as hell not submissive,” I say.
He pushes me back, releasing me before I can kick him in the nuts.
"I'm calling the police if you don't get out,” I threaten.
"I have the right to be here as his son,” he says cruelly. “And unless you want me throwing you out, you had better start showing a little respect, employee."
Something kicks in. I don't charge him, I don't run. “You said before you thought I felt guilty, but I think you do. I've been there for Thomas since the moment I met him. Where have you been?"
"Don't you worry about me. I know how to make up for lost time. I'd say I did some of that this morning."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I had my father's mistress, what do you think it means?"
"You didn't have shit!” I want to throw something at him so badly, but I love each and every thing in this office. “You'll never touch my soul you little shit, never ever."
He pulls me into his arms. I fight him, I can't break free. “This turns you on?” He hisses. “Doesn't it?"
"No-castrating you-that would turn me on."
"Liar.” He spins me. My backside against his crotch. One hand across my shoulders he undoes my jeans, shoves a hand down my panties rudely. “What do you call that?"
"Fantasizing … about your father. A real man!"
He masturbates me. “Tell me what he does to you,” he demands.
"None of your fucking business."
"Does he spank you, is that it?"
"Go to hell.” I try not to move against his hand. It's no use.
"You really are submissive, aren't you?"
"Only for him."
"You don't get to choose. In fact that's the whole point.” He yanks down my pants and panties so hard I almost lose my balance. I get no say as he topples me over the couch.
"I'm tired of your mixed messages,” he takes out his cock and pushes it into me from behind.
"What mixed messages, you idiot?"
"You want me to be him; you don't want me to be him. You tell me I am so much like him and then you push me away. You think he was so fucking perfect? Ask him where he was my whole life?"
"He's sorry for that … he's made amends."
"In your mind,” he fucks me hard. “But who the hell are you to judge that. You're not the one he abandoned."
I moan. “He's … a good Daddy."
Brian chuckles. “So that's the game, is it? You and Thomas play Daddy and daughter. How touching."
"I hate you,” I squirm.
"But you'll come for me, like a good sub, won't you?"
I try to convey my protest even as the physical feelings take charge. “It's … my body … not my soul you're taking."
"No fucking difference,” he growls.
Daddy I'm so sorry, I shouldn't climax like this … shouldn't surrender to this … shouldn't be aroused at all…
"Oh, god…"
He pulls my hair, balls it up in his fist, he forces the pleasure from me, makes me ride the rail of desire, an electric line through my cunt, up and down my spine, he gives me no quarter, he sops me wet and rings me dry. But he doesn't come himself.
I've never been fucked like that in my entire life.
He's still rock hard, his cock dripping my juices. He pulls me up off the sofa, using my hair as a handle, my eyes water, but my pussy is still twitching … I'm not even done coming.
"Where do you belong, sub?"
My cheeks are flush, too late to deny, he reads it in my eyes.
I belong on my fucking knees getting my mouth fucked.
He lets me down, I don't say a word; I just take him inside my mouth.
My rebel, slut, traitor's mouth.
He puts his hands on the side of my head. He draws my mouth deep around him, I can barely breathe. I gag, I choke, I feel deliciously, scandalously full, I'm a bad, bad girl and I can't even help it because a bad, bad boy is doing it all. For a moment I forget everything else, my worries, my grief … myself.
His voice comes to me from somewhere, I don't know where.
"You need this, Caroline…"
Is he right?
He pulls his cock out from between my jaws and begins to stroke. He's larger than his father all right and he has more veins. How expertly his fingers move up and down, pleasuring himself. I am mesmerized.
"Should I come on your face, girl?"
I can't say yes, but I can't say no, either.
He smiles. His semen is hot and sticky. It lands in gobs on my cheeks, on my eyebrows, my lips.
"Leave it,” he says.
I sit on the floor, wasted as he zips himself up and goes to the men's room down the hall.