"What the fuck is wrong with you?" growled my cousin, eyeing me one morning. I'd been whistling slightly while staring at some spreadsheets, relaxed, lounging back in my chair. We have an open office plan so there are no walls, everyone sits in the common area, including me.
I shrugged my shoulders, Hunter was always up in my business. It was his job, I'd hired a family member as COO to keep me in line, speak truth to power, but still, even I admit the change in my personality was a one eighty.
"Nothing," I said casually. "Why?"
Hunter just eyed me suspiciously.
"It's ten a.m. and I haven't seen you take a drink yet," he growled. "And yet you seem okay, you're not a raging lunatic punching walls."
I guffawed then. Yeah, sometimes I'm intense, really intense because I ask so much of myself, and I want everyone to give a hundred and fifty percent. Shit, I worked so hard for my baby and it killed me that NYC Concierge was a "job" to some people, nothing more than I paycheck. I try not to hire those folks, they don't have the dream, the vision to get the company off the ground.
But Hunter was right. Everything about me had changed, I'd skipped my morning drink more by accident than anything else. Because with Laurie, there was no need for the alcohol, no need for the extra push. Instead, I got my push from her sweet pussy wrapped around my cock in the grey light of dawn, her pulsing snatch milking me, draining me of my jism so that I could focus during the day, my body sated yet humming, ready to go. I swear, it was the best drug, an adrenaline shot that lasted and lasted until I got home, ready for another dose of that curvy body.
But Hunter had no idea and I wasn't about to explain.
"People change," I said carelessly, flipping open my laptop.
My cousin snorted then.
"Fuck that, I've known you your whole life," he scoffed. "You've never been like this before."
And I just looked at him coolly, casually.
"Where are last week's numbers?" I said, my voice neutral, indicating the subject was closed.
And Hunter, hearing the alpha in my voice, jumped up and began riffling through some papers, back to business. Because I'm the boss, I'm the top dog, and it's as simple as that. I'm the unchallenged leader at this start-up and it's the force of my personality that drives this place, provides the mojo to keep going. Within seconds, I had my cousin in the hot seat, peppering him with questions as I studied the spreadsheet, noting tiny details, nothing too insignificant to escape my eye.
But Hunter's observations had hit the bull's eye. Because I have changed in the last couple months. This time with Laurie, buried in her beautiful body, making love to her day and night, chatting with her, learning of her hopes and dreams, has changed me. She's touched something deep inside, something that's never been touched before and it's fucking scary to be honest. I've never felt more vulnerable, more open to a woman's ideas, to her suggestions, to her heart, her mind, and it's a whole new way of life.
Plus there's the fact that the brunette is completely different from other women. Most bitches, when they realize that I'm an internet billionaire, start creaming immediately in their panties, their eyes going soft with "oohs" and "ahhs," big dollar signs flipping in their eyes.
But I wasn't having any of it, fuck no. These bitches are conniving golddiggers through and through, not one of them was genuine, it was all about the cash, although they begged to differ.
"No Tucker, it's your big dick," they'd moan, my cock stuffed into their mouths.
"No Tucker, it's your massive balls," they'd pant, licking one, then the other, leaving a trail of saliva on my testicles.
But fuck that, it wasn't my anatomy, wasn't my sculpted bod or scintillating personality, I wasn't under any illusions. It was the dollar signs, the life I could offer them, ensconced in the lap of luxury without lifting a finger.
So to stumble upon Laurie, shit, to meet the brunette on a humdrum delivery run, was a stroke of good luck, probably the best thing that had ever happened to me. The brunette was so humble, so direct, so real, and she didn't care about money at all. I'd given her my credit card and the only thing she'd bought was some white cotton panties from the drugstore, the kind that's five bucks for a three-pack.
"Honey," I said, trailing my hand along the edge of the fabric, letting my finger wander into that crevice between her thigh and pussy, stroking the soft flesh. "You know I want you to buy yourself something fancy, something nice. I mean, this underwear is great, don't get me wrong, you look good in everything, but there's no need to hold back. Spend my money, baby, buy something expensive for yourself," I rumbled persuasively.
The brunette sighed, tossing her head back, angling her hips so that my finger was right at her wet hole, the thin cotton soaked through already. I groaned deep in my throat, the unmistakable smell of her wet snatch so pungent and aromatic that my dick, which had been at full mast already, punched out even more, big, dangerous, ready to do damage.
But Laurie wasn't going to take advantage of my generosity, she thought I was a humble delivery man and nothing more.
"Oh Tucker," she sighed, twisting sensuously on the duvet, her hole pressing down on my finger, begging it to make entrance, begging me to push in and stroke her. "These panties are just fine. Look," she breathed, reaching one hand down and flipping the crotch inside out. "Look how wet I am for you."
And I choked deep in my throat. Because the white cotton was serving its dual purposes. It kept her hygienic, clean, all that good stuff, but it was also perfect for sopping up her juices until the fabric was soaked, until a thin white crust of nectar formed, flaking off for my enjoyment later. I loved sniffing her panties, running them up and down my pole, even lapping at the white stuff. Fuck, I'm a dirty guy but I've never pretended otherwise, my mind's in the gutter 24/7.
And fuck that pussy was bare to me now and there no way I could stay out, the pink lips swollen and glistening under the low light, a slow trickle of cream swelling and trickling down her butt.
"Fuck baby," I groaned, reaching a finger down to dip between her ass cheeks, sampling the ambrosia. Oh shit, Laurie was warm and sweaty between those creamy orbs, and I held my hand up to my nose, sniffing her butt sweat before licking my finger. "Fuck baby, you taste good."
And giggling, she wiggled her ass a little, spreading her legs wider, shifting her hips while beckoning to me with half-lidded eyes. My depraved ways didn't freak her out, had never turned her off, fuck, this was the girl for me for sure.
"Come and get it then," she purred. "Come sample my kitty."
And I was all over it like a dog in heat. That night, I trashed her cunt once more, running my dick in and out with no mercy, shredding those sweet vaginal walls before plundering her rectum, forcing my pole up her tiny anus.
"Ohhhh fuck," I groaned, holding her tight as my penis let lose, spurts of cream running up her anal canal, showering her insides with my virile white. "Fuuuuuck," I ground out again.
And it was good for the brunette too, she screamed before biting deep into my shoulder, her teeth leaving a half-moon imprint, her ass clamping and clenching around my cock, milking my balls until they were drained dry.
"Ohhh Tucker," she moaned, her head lolling on her neck, big tits pressed into my chest. "Ohhh."
And that's how it is every day. I love hearing my name on Laurie's lips when she comes, it binds her deeper to me, makes my dick jump harder, spurt more, giving up everything to my beautiful brunette, body, mind, and soul. Because in a few short months, that's what's happened. This woman owns me, I jump whenever she beckons, I do whatever she wants, hurt when she hurts, and fuck, but I'm a goner. Tucker McGrath is completely under the spell of Laurie Holmes, and it feels absolutely right.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laurie
I was with Tanya at lunch during work, sitting at a café around the corner from our building. The café was nondescript, filled with people like us, government employees escaping from their cubes for a quick meal in the New York sunshine, light sparkling off the sidewalks, cars speeding by spewing us with fumes as we ate our pasta.
But still, a sunny, relatively warm day is rare for New York City in the fall and it seemed like everyone was here this afternoon, eager to get out of the fluorescent lighting and drab work setting. So Tanya chewed slowly, trying to avoid going back to work for as long as possible.
"We still haven't gone up to the Bronx to check out our signs," she reminded me, fixing me with a look. "We're flaking on our jobs. Maybe Saunders will fire me then," she rubbed her hands gleefully.