Make Me Yours, Daddy

-014-

~*JUNE*~

As I step toward the glass doors, they slide open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.

I cross the lobby and make my way to my desk, settling into the chair.

It’s more luxurious than my old one, bigger, sleeker, but it feels empty. Lonely.

There’s no one to talk to.

The only person around is a security guard at the far end, slumped in his chair with his chin on his chest, never missing a chance to sleep on the job.

I pull out my phone and stare at the messages I don’t want to read.

"Hello, Miss June," an unfamiliar voice says.

I look up.

A middle-aged woman is walking toward me. Her blonde hair is pulled back so tightly it looks like it’s fighting to escape.

Her blazer is pressed, her lips painted the color of a fresh wound.

She stops in front of my desk and looks down at me.

"Good morning. My name is Sarah," she says.

"Good morning, Sarah."

She smiles, but it’s clearly fake.

Even someone blind could see through it.

She extends a folder toward me, holding it between two manicured fingers like it might bite her. "Take these documents to the CEO for him to sign."

"Okay." I take the folder from her. "I’ll give it to him when he comes in."

"But he’s already in his office."

I blink. "He’s already in his office?"

"Yes. He came in really early today." Her smile tightens. "He always does. I guess you didn’t come in early today. If you did, you’d know he’s already here."

I open my mouth to respond, but she keeps going.

"Don’t think that just because a newbie like you got promoted so quickly means you can misbehave or come to work whenever you want," she says sharply.

Her eyes drag down my body and then back up, slow and assessing, like she’s cataloguing every flaw. "I still wonder how someone like you got this position so easily when I’ve been here for years, working really hard and waiting for it. And then out of nowhere, you appear and get the job."

I furrow my eyebrows and click my teeth together.

What is she trying to insinuate? That I don’t qualify for this job? That I stole the job from her? I barely even know her.

Besides, it’s not like I wanted this job in the first place.

There’s so much I want to say to this blonde, annoying woman standing in front of me. So much.

My tongue is heavy with words, my throat burning with them.

But I hold my tongue before I say anything I might regret.

I force a smile, just as wide as hers. "I guess I just got lucky."

She shoots me a glare, a long one, like she's waiting for me to crack.

Then she turns away and walks off, her heels stabbing the floor with every step.

I let out a breath. "Well… that was awkward."

I gather the folder properly in my hand, smoothing the edges, and push myself up from the desk.

My legs feel heavy as I walk toward the CEO’s door.

Then I push the door open and step inside.

"Good morning, sir. I have some documents—"

My words die in my throat the moment I look up.

My eyes double in size.

They don't blink.

They don't move.

They just stay frozen, wide and unblinking, as they land on the scene unfolding in front of me.

A scene I never expected to see this morning.

Not ever.

Not in his office.

Mr. Macaulay is on the couch on the right side—the expensive leather one against the wall, the one I always assumed he used for reading reports or taking naps.

But apparently, it has more use than that.

His head is tipped back against the cushion, eyes closed, jaw slack.

His white shirt is still on, but now untucked and pulled loose from his trousers.

His belt is undone, his trousers open.

And his c**k…

His humongous c**k is buried deep in a woman’s mouth.

She’s on her knees in front of the couch, positioned between his spread thighs.

Her black hair falls in loose waves around her face, hiding most of her features.

Her head moves in a slow, steady rhythm, her lips wrapped around his c**k as she takes him deeper with each motion.

She is sucking his c**k like it is the only thing she could ever have in this world.

Like she was born for this single purpose.

Her throat works around his c**k every time she takes him deeper, and a wet, obscene sound fills the room, the sound of suction and saliva and something that makes my stomach flip.

A low moan slips from her mouth, muffled by his flesh between her lips. "Mmmm... fuck..."

His hips twitch upward, pushing his c**k further into her throat.

"Bloody hell. That's it. Don't stop." he groans, his voice a low rasp that I barely recognize.

It's nothing like the clipped, cold tone he uses with me.

This is raw. Hungry.

She moans again, the vibration making him grunt.

His fingers thread into her hair, gripping fistfuls of it, guiding her head at the pace he wants.

"Faster," he mutters. His accent thickens, the British in his voice curling around the word like smoke. "Come on. Faster."

She obeys.

Her head bobs quicker, her mouth working his c**k with a desperation that makes my breath catch in my throat.

The sounds get louder, wetter, more obscene.

A string of saliva connects her bottom lip to the head of his c**k every time she pulls back.

He lets out a guttural groan, his hips bucking. "Yeah. Just like that. f*****g hell."

I remain standing in the doorway.

The folder is still clutched in my hand.

My mouth hangs open.

I can’t move. Can’t look away.

And then the words tear out of my throat before I can stop it.

"Holy s**t!"