He nods fiercely. “I didn’t earn a single thing I have. Anyone could’ve done what I did if given the amount of money I was given. It’s absurd, that a single family would have all of this, but it’s the way things are.”
I didn’t expect this conversation to turn out like this. I mostly thought he’d tell me about his parents, his family, where he grew up, where he went to school, that sort of thing. The darkness is always there, I just didn’t expect to look directly into it this morning.
My giddy joy is slowly evaporating away. Not because I agree with what he’s saying. I actually don’t agree at all, but it’s hard to explain that to him. I don’t think he makes money on blood and it isn’t his fault that he was born rich, the same way it isn’t his fault that someone else was born poor.
It’s just the way things are. At the very least, he seems to be able to see the world for what it is.
He watches me for a long moment before raising an eyebrow. “Now, your turn.”
I smile a little. “My turn?”
“Come here.” He beckons me forward. I put my mug down and move around toward him. He pushes his keyboard back and pats the top of the desk. “Sit.”
I do what he says. I sit on the top of the desk, knees together. My skirt is shorter than usual today, almost borderline inappropriate. I thought he might like it.
He spreads my knees apart. I sit back on my hands and look down at him as my skirt slowly slides up my thighs, revealing the navy-blue panties I wore for him.
“Tell me where you’re from,” he says softly, kissing my inner thigh.
“Around here,” I say, biting my lip. “Grew up in the suburbs.”
“Normal childhood?”
“The usual. Pool parties, roller skating, that sort of thing.”
“Modern middle class living.” He stops at my pussy and slowly kisses me overtop of my panties. I can hear my heart in my ears. “Parents nice people?”
“Yes,” I manage. “Very nice. Religious.”
“Catholic?”
“Methodist.”
“Ah,” he says, smiling as he pushes my panties aside. “Hard working?”
“Very—oh, shit.” I moan as his mouth finds my clit. “That’s really distracting,” I say.
“Good. What did your parents do for work?”
He licks and strokes my pussy as I talk. “Ah, uh, my mom worked part-time, ah, as a stenographer for a judge. My father was a car salesman.”
I can feel him smile. “Talk about blood money.”
I groan and smile. “He believed in what he was doing, selling American-made cars.”
“I’m guessing you heard that speech more than once.”
“A million times.” I gasp as he slides two fingers inside of me and slowly strokes, looking up at my face.
“When did you know you wanted to paint?”
“Young,” I say. “I was young.”
“How young?”
“A little girl.”
“Why didn’t your parents approve?”
He starts to lick my clit as he strokes my pussy. “I don’t--- I don’t know,” I manage.
“Tell me,” he whispers.
Fucking hell, it feels so good. I can barely breathe. “Wasn’t real,” I manage. “Fake major. No money. Wouldn’t waste their, oh fuck, their time on it.”
I lean further back, down onto my elbows. He sucks and licks me faster as his fingers slide in and out of me, doing that amazing curl that touches my spot and drives me wild.
“You were always different, weren’t you?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I groan. “I didn’t fit in.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Some.”
“When did you first have sex?”
I groan as his mouth presses against me again. “Seventeen. My second ever boyfriend. We were in his basement, oh, fuck, for the first time.”
“And in college?” he asks. “Lots of boys?”
“Some,” I groan. “Fuck. Some.” I grab his hair with one hand, tensing, my whole body in ecstasy now. I can barely concentrate on his questions.
I think he can tell, because he doesn’t ask anymore. He sucks and licks me, fucking my pussy faster. I groan and grab his hair harder, losing myself to the pure pleasure of him. It feels so good I can barely control myself as my moans get louder, the pleasure peaking and peaking, higher and higher.
My whole world is pleasure as I come into his mouth. “Fuck, Daddy,” I moan, panting, twitching. “Oh, god, Daddy.”
He sucks and licks me through it before I slowly finish and he pulls back. I watch him lick his fingers clean before pushing my panties back into place and gently helping me off the desk.
“Good work today,” he says. “That will be all for now, Hazel.”
I nod, still breathing fast, spinning from the orgasm. I manage to take the tray with me as I leave the room.
Rogers takes it from me, and I think I might be imagining things, but I swear he winks. I hurry over to my seat and bury my nose in a book, barely able to control myself.