Big Boss by Cassie Mint

Five

Daphne

Mr Callahan wants me. Jacob wants me. Physically, if nothing else.

This is more than I ever dreamed possible.

I lay awake for hours after our kiss, brushing my fingertips over my mouth. My lips are sensitive, scraped awake by the rasp of his beard, and I tremble beneath the cool cotton sheets as I replay it over and over.

I didn’t hallucinate it. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that really happened. He kissed me like that—like he’d been yearning for it as much as I have.

Kate.She’s my next thought, as soon as dawn breaks through my curtains and reality comes crashing back in. Do I tell her? She jokes about it all the time, but what if it hurts her? What if it was a one-time thing, something he regrets, and I damage their relationship over nothing?

I dress slowly, like I’m getting ready to walk to the gallows. Black wool tights and a navy checked skirt. A gray sweater and a swipe of pearly pink lipstick.

It’s not for Jacob’s benefit. That’s the lie I tell myself.

But it doesn’t matter—all my treacherous preening is for nothing, because when I go down to breakfast, he’s not there.

“Dad’s in the office today.” Kate’s sitting at the table alone, her tablet propped against a milk jug. She bites into a breakfast muffin, stirring a coffee with her other hand, and glances up at me as I sit across from her, offering a smile. “We’ll have to entertain ourselves.”

“No problem.” God, my mouth is so dry. I pour a glass of orange juice, my hand trembling. “He must work a lot.”

“Uh-huh.” Kate’s only half listening, scrolling on her tablet. The blue light tracks over her freckled cheeks.

I don’t tell her. Maybe it’s smart, or maybe it’s cowardly, but I keep the kiss to myself all day. Through last-minute gift shopping and a frosty winter walk. Through face masks and a movie session crammed on Kate’s bed.

Mr Callahan—Jacob—doesn’t come home for dinner. So Kate sighs, and boxes up some leftovers, glancing sadly at her half-wrapped pile of gifts on the kitchen table.

“I’ll finish those when I get back.”

“I could take it,” I blurt. “Your dad’s dinner. I could take it to him.”

She eyes me doubtfully. “His office is a twenty minute walk away. It’s dark outside.”

“I’ll stick to the streetlamps.” My heart races under my gray sweater. It’s such a bad idea, but I need to see him. I need it like air. “And I’ll text you once I’m there.”

Can she sense it—the desperation tightening my chest? Is it etched all over my face? Kate eyes me closely, and I can almost see the gears turning, but then she shrugs and thrusts the box over with a smile.

“If you’re sure. Thanks, Daph.”

“No problem,” I croak. “Any time.”

My coat is stiff as I shrug it on, the shoulders still damp from catching snowflakes on our walk. I tug my black wool hat over my ears, the sounds of the house suddenly muffled.

“Don’t forget to text me!” Kate calls as I let myself out the front door.

I don’t deserve her.

It’s dark out. The moon hangs above the treetops, waxy and swollen, and the stars pulse like the string lights on the living room tree. I walk quickly, my breaths coming in short puffs that crystallize in front of my chin, and snow crunches under my boots.

Jacob’s leftovers are warm against my stomach. I grip the box tight, the plastic squeaking against my gloves.

I’m going to see him again.

Will he kiss me?

Will he do more?

Jacob Callahan’s headquarters are in the business district, where the buildings are modern and sleek, and people in suits rush past the glowing windows. He named his company after his daughter—KT Enterprises—and I duck beneath the entrance sign, stomach squirming.

I don’t want to think about Kate right now. I send the promised text, then switch my phone off and slide it into my coat pocket.

I’ve never been in this building before, but it’s not difficult to find Jacob’s office. He’s on the top floor, obviously, and if any of the stray employees that I pass as I walk to the elevator think it’s weird that I’m here, they don’t say anything. They glance over at me from their monitors, eyebrows raised, then turn back to their work.

They must know he has a college-aged daughter.

Must figure I’m her friend. Maybe he even told them I’m staying.

There’s no reason to be suspicious at all.

I tear off one glove with my teeth, jab the elevator button then rest the glove on top of the leftovers. My breaths are shaky as I wait, the elevator rumbling down slowly from the upper floors, and I focus on counting to three on my inhales. Holding the breath for a few counts. Then gusting it out steadily: one, two, three.

My heart slows a little. It’s still thumping hard, but it’s less frantic.

There’s a mirror in the back of the elevator, and I startle at my own reflection when I step inside. I look like a whole other person—bright eyed and glowing, pearly white teeth digging into my lower lip, my chest rising and falling beneath my coat. There’s an excited smile playing around my mouth, like I know the world’s best secret.

I yank off my hat and stuff it in my pocket with my phone, then take my second glove off too.

When the elevator dings and sweeps open on the top floor, there’s a knot forming low in my belly. Something hot and heavy and urgent, and it only gets worse when I step forward, my legs brushing together.

Jacob sees me straight away.

It’s a large office, the elevator opening directly into a huge, open room filled with one massive desk and scattered sofas and meeting tables. Dark windows line every wall. Potted plants cast shadows. The city winks beyond the dark glass—all glowing windows and flashing billboards and slow, snaking traffic.

“Daphne.”

He sounds shocked. He’s frozen beside one glass wall—he must have been pacing, just like at home—and there’s a tablet balanced on one palm. The light washes his face blue from below, glinting in his dark beard, and when he swallows, the shadows on his move.

He’s so big, he blocks out the skyscraper behind him. My belly twists.

I lift the box of leftovers. “I brought your dinner,” I say, cheeks heating. It’s so transparent. I don’t care about the food, and neither does he. He barely even glances at it, dark eyes roving over my body instead. My wool tights and checked skirt. The sliver of my gray sweater visible beneath my coat. “Are you hungry?”

A dark laugh. “Yes.”

It sounds like a warning. He prowls forward slowly, eyes fixed on mine, and tosses the tablet on a sofa as he passes. As he comes nearer, my chin tips back slowly, until he’s a few feet away and my neck aches and something throbs between my legs.

“Kate couldn’t bring it?”

I shake my head slowly. “She was busy. I offered.”

He cocks his head. “That was kind.”

My knuckles are turning white from squeezing the box so hard. I should pass it over, but I don’t—if anything, I clutch it closer. Like if he wants it, he’ll have to come and get it. Wrestle it from my hands.

“It wasn’t kind.” My words come out in a rasp. His mouth quirks, and he takes one step closer.

“No?”

“No. I want something in return.”

I can hear my own breaths, scraping in and out of my throat, and it’s like I’m teetering on a precipice. This is such a dangerous game. But he’s playing too, nodding along seriously.

“Tough but fair. What payment would you like, Daphne?”

“Another kiss.” The words explode out of me. So not cool. But pure satisfaction flits over Jacob’s face, and then he’s plucking the box from my iron grip as easily as picking a flower. He turns and sets it on a nearby table, then turns back.

“You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart.”

I snort. Hardly. My only leverage just got taken away as easy as breathing, and now my only hope is that he wants this too. That he’ll keep playing the game we started under the mistletoe—or even before that, maybe. Huddled together at the side of the ice rink.

It feels safe to play out here. Floating up above the city, hidden together in the dark.

A thick finger tucks under my chin. Tilts my head back even further, until I’m panting between parted lips, rocking up onto my toes so he doesn’t need to bend down so far. I reach up and grab two fistfuls of his shirt, twisting the fabric to keep my balance.

Jacob growls. My stomach swoops. And then he’s stooping, gathering me against his chest, but not to kiss me—to pluck me off my feet. He carries me all the way across the office, one arm banded around my thighs, his steps heavy on the tiles, and he doesn’t stop until he rounds his desk.

I wobble when he places me on the edge. Right on the edge, my ass half hanging off, so that without his bulk braced against me, I’ll fall. He’s so overwhelming like this, the faint scent of his cologne lacing my every breath, the heat of him, the way his chest heaves like he’s almost as affected as I am.

His chair creaks as he lowers into it. He slides it closer, until he’s pressed against me. Belly to belly, chest to chest, his big hands kneading my thighs.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

His palms slide down to my knees, then trail back up again, slower this time.

“Um.” No, he’s not. He’s watching me, dark eyes glittering, waiting for some sign that I don’t know how to give. I can hear every breath that rasps out of his chest—can feel them rocking me backward.

“Have you been kissed before, Daphne?”

“Y-yes.” Last night. He should know.

“But have you been kissed here?” He trails one blunt fingertip across the swell of my thigh. My wool tights whisper under his touch, all the way over to the inside, to the tickly, sensitive skin hidden there. I squirm on the desk.

“On my legs?”

He chuckles. “No.”

No. I didn’t think he meant my legs.

Have I thought about this before? Yes, a thousand times. The soft brush of Jacob’s beard against my bare skin, his hands pushing me open, the searing heat of his mouth on my—on my—

“Daphne.” He squeezes my thighs, jolting me back to earth. “Would you like to stop?”

I shake my head so hard my teeth clack. No, I’ll die if he stops. I’ll keel over right here on his desk like a dead bug.

“Keep going. Please, Mr Callahan.”

It’s like all the air empties out of his lungs. His grip tightens on my thighs, and that’s the only warning I get before he yanks my hips closer and flips my skirt up. Hooks his fingers in my tights and tugs them down to my knees. I lift my ass to help, my feet kicking clumsily in the air, and then there’s only the thin layer of my panties between me and his desk.

“Daphne. Sweetheart.” He’s staring between my legs, mouth parted. His tongue darts out and wets his lip. “Fuck.”

I squirm, the throbbing down there getting worse under his gaze. My skin is too hot, too tight, and I can’t breathe.

This is really happening.

Two big thumbs smooth over the triangle of my panties. Pink lace with a tiny white rosebud. I thought of him when I slid them on this morning, and I tell him so.

His groan reverberates down to my bones.

“You wanted me to see these?” He hooks one finger under the edge, tracing up and down the lace. Up and down. He’s lifted it away from my skin, and cool air washes under.

“Yes.” I nod like an idiot, shifting on the edge of the desk, my hands still braced on his chest to keep from falling. “I picked them for you. I bought them for you.”

He stills. The only movement is the shuddering rise and fall of his chest.

“You did? When did you buy them?”

Oh god. Here goes.

I steel myself and tell him. “Three years ago. After that first dinner at college.”

A series of emotions flicker across his broad face: shock. Wonder. Guilt. And pure male satisfaction. Then he’s flattening a huge palm on the center of my chest, pushing me back to lay on the desk.

My black coat pools around me, my sweater rucked up around my waist. I scrabble for something to hold onto, nails scraping against the wood. But when he leans forward, his breath misting hot over the lace of my panties, I don’t even have to think about it—I wind my fingers in his dark hair.

It’s softer than I imagined. Springy, like it would curl if he grew it out. He growls when I tug it.

Jacob licks between my legs, tongue flattened against pink lace.

“Oh god.” I bow off the desk, stomach muscles shuddering. It’s so much already—so hot and damp and overwhelming.

“Daphne,” he growls, and tugs my panties to the side. “You’ve been waiting too long, sweet girl.”

The next lick is against my bare sex, delving between my folds.

He doesn’t let me hide a single inch, doesn’t let me squirm away. With a single palm weighing down my stomach, Jacob holds me to the desk and buries his face between my legs, his beard tickling the insides of my thighs. He holds me open, merciless and single-minded, and eats me like his own personal feast.

“Oh my god.” I’m panting hard, lightheaded with how good it feels, thoughts spinning away like gossamer threads as I stare wide eyed at the ceiling. My feet jerk, twitching forward, and they brush against the hard swell of his belly.

Tufts of his hair peek between my gripping fingers, and his huge shoulders shift as he cranes his neck, gets his tongue deeper.

Gets it inside me.

Holy crap.

“Jacob,” I rasp. “That’s—you feel—”

His rumble vibrates my pussy. Tingles in my clit. I squeeze my eyes shut, something building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I can hardly bear it any longer.

I writhe on the desk. I whine.

“Please,” I sob, even though I’m not sure what I’m begging for. “Jacob. Please.”

He grunts, and then his tongue disappears, a thick finger pushing inside me in its place. Even a single finger is a stretch, and I arch my back against the desk, glad that he’s holding me down so I can thrash and writhe and kick—

He sucks on my clit.

I explode.

Stars burst behind my eyes. I’m shaking and sweating and cursing under my breath, pleasure wracking my frame in powerful waves. Jacob’s hand weighing down my stomach is the only thing keeping me here, the only thing stopping me from lifting off and spinning towards the ceiling.

When I slump back against the wood, gasping and boneless, he kisses my thigh and sits back.

His lips are slick. Wet from licking me. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, watching intently. There’s a slight frown pinching his forehead, and it’s like he’s wary. Afraid of me.

“That was…wow.” I trail off with a happy sigh. He relaxes, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

“A good trade?” he asks, and it takes me a second to figure out what he means. I completely forgot about the leftovers, about the whole reason I gave for coming here.

I grin at him, my insides all gooey and glittering. “The best trade. Worth walking all the way here in the cold.”

His smile fades at that, and he glances out of the windows. Stiffens again, jaw tight.

“You walked here alone in the dark?”

I struggle to sit up. Put my panties back in place then pull my tights up, his big hands helping me along even as he scowls at the dark city view.

“I don’t have a car.”

“But Kate let you go alone—”

“I said I’d text her when I got here. She knows I’m safe.” I hesitate, then reach out and touch his cheek. A shy brush of my fingertips, and then it’s gone. “Relax, Mr Callahan.”

“It’s Jacob.” He bites out the words. Pushes away from the desk. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”