No Guilt In That

~ Stellan's POV

Yes, daddy.

The words echoed in my skull like I was having a goddamn fever that didn't want to let go.

I sat at the head of the boardroom table, twelve of my most senior executives droning on about Q3 projections and market volatility. I didn't hear a goddamn word.

All I could hear was that whisper.

All I could feel was the ghost of Thea's mouth on me, the wet, skilled drag of her tongue that had brought me to my knees in my own office less than twelve hours ago.

All I could see was her. Thea. Perched at the far end, legs crossed in a pencil skirt that hugged her thighs, blouse buttoned high like some innocent intern. Notebook open, pen scratching notes, her hair twisted up in a neat knot that begged to be yanked free. 

She looked professional and composed.

My dick was half-hard just watching her breathe, straining against my trousers under the table. I shifted, gripping my pen like a lifeline, trying to focus on the numbers flashing on the screen.

I was a man of discipline. I ran a multibillion-dollar empire. I had negotiated deals that toppled governments, yet here I was, barely able to focus on a seven-figure acquisition because a twenty-one-year-old intern had called me 'Daddy' and ruined me.

And I was not her freaking father.

Her father was six-feet-under!

She knew exactly where to hit the nerve.

The board droned on about synergies and valuations. Thea stood to present a section on market analysis, her idea, her slides, her voice clear and confident. 

Pride twisted with something darker in my gut. She was proving herself, just like she wanted. My best friend’s daughter, carving her place in the empire he’d built. And I was the bastard who’d fed her my cock the night before.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Since that memory was flashing in my mind every now and then.

She didn't look at me. She took her seat at the far end of the table once she was done, next to the junior executives, keeping her head down.

Good. She was obeying. We were strangers.

Until he decided to destroy the peace.

That smug little shit, twenty-eight, Harvard polish, the kind of handsome that made women giggle, leaned toward her as she sat back down. 

He was my newest VP of Marketing. Young with a charming smile. Also, the kind of man fathers wanted their daughters to marry, the kind of man who wasn't broken, twisted, or twice her age.

He whispered something, his hand brushing her arm, fingers lingering on her sleeve. Thea smiled. A real smile, soft and surprised, her cheeks flushing as she whispered back.

Why the fuck was he touching her?

The thought roared in my head, so violent and so wrong.

But I didn't care. The CFO was saying something about risk assessment, but the only risk I could see was the urge i had to cross the room and shatter Ethan's jaw.

Seeing Ethan’s hand on her, his mouth close to her ear. The thought of him touching what was—fuck, no. She wasn’t mine. She couldn’t be. But watching everything, smelling her perfume, the scent that was still clinging to my skin triggered a dark, possessive rage I couldn't control.

“That’s enough,” I said, voice cutting through the room like a blade. Chairs scraped as heads turned. “Meeting’s over. Everyone out.”

"Stellan?" my COO asked, confused. "We haven't covered the—"

"I said enough," I said, my voice low. I stood up, buttoning my jacket, staring directly at Ethan. He blinked, looking unsettled by the glare I was leveling at him. "This proposal is garbage. Rework the numbers. Everyone out."

"But sir—"

"Out."

Murmurs rose, confusion flickering, but no one argued with Stellan Vaughn when he used that tone. They filed out fast, murmuring confused apologies.

Ethan stood up, smiling at Thea again. "I'll catch you later, Thea. Coffee?"

"Miss Mercer stays," I said, my voice cutting through the air. Ethan paused, looking between Thea and me. 

He hesitated, casting a worried gaze, as if I was going to eat her. Though I was. Ethan then nodded once and left, closing the heavy mahogany doors behind him. 

The click of the latch was the loudest sound in the world.

We were alone.

And my blood pumped with an exciting thrill.

Thea stood by her chair, her face pale, and her eyes wide. She was scared. She could feel the energy radiating off me, filled with jealousy and need.

"Mr. Vaughn?" she whispered. "I... I didn't do anything."

"Didn't you?"

I stalked toward her. I rounded the table, cornering her against the window that overlooked the city.

"Why were you smiling at him?" I accused, stopping inches from her.

"He... he just asked if I had a pen," she stammered, backing up until her hips hit the heavy conference table. "Stellan, you are scaring me."

"Good."

I slammed my hands onto the table on either side of her, trapping her. You should be scared. You promised me last night was the last time."

"We are!" she cried, though her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. Her pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the brown. She wasn't just scared, she was aroused. "I'm doing my job."

"Is that what you call it?" I growled, leaning down until my mouth was at her ear. "Flirting with Hayes? Letting him lean all over you?"

"I wasn't flirting! He's just nice!"

"He wants to fuck you, Thea," I snarled, the words tasting like acid on my tongue. "I see the way he looks at you. Like he wants to bend you over and drive into you."

My hand moved, I grabbed her waist, my fingers digging into her flesh through her silk blouse, pulling her flush against my erection.

"He doesn't know you called me Daddy with my cock in your mouth twelve hours ago."

She whimpered, her head falling back, her resistance crumbling instantly. "Stellan..."

"Tell me," I demanded, grinding my hips against hers. "Does he make you wet, Thea? Does he make you shake like this?"

"No," she gasped, her hands clutching the lapels of my suit jacket. "No... only you. God, only you."

I was on her in seconds, hands gripping her waist, lifting her onto the polished wood. My mind had finally snapped, and I wanted her slick around my erection.

Papers scattered, a tablet clattered to the floor. I didn’t care. My mouth crashed into hers, hard and punishing, swallowing her gasp. She tasted like coffee and fear and want, her tongue meeting mine like she’d been starving too.

I yanked her blouse open, buttons pinged off the table, and shoved her skirt up her thighs. 

No time for being pretty and being gentle. My fingers hooked her panties and tore; the rip echoed in the silent room. She was soaked already, dripping for me, and the knowledge made me feral.

“Stellan—” she whimpered against my lips.

I freed my cock, throbbing, aching, and lined up at her entrance. One brutal thrust and I buried myself to the hilt.

Fuck.

She was tight, hot, clenching around me like a vice. Her cry was half-pain, half-relief, nails digging into my shoulders through my suit.

I knew it, my little fox was no virgin. 

I pulled back and slammed in again, the table rocking under us, her body arching off the wood.

Every thrust sent shivers down my spine. Every slap of skin was a brand on her skin. Ethan’s smile flashed in my mind, and I fucked her harder, deeper, angling to hit that spot that made her sob my name. 

Her legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my back, pulling me closer like she needed this as bad as I did.

The feeling made me snarl against her throat, biting down hard enough to mark. 

I pounded into her, relentless, the table creaking, her breasts bouncing free from her bra. I sucked a nipple into my mouth, teeth grazing, and she shattered, walls pulsing around my cock, milking me, her scream muffled against my shoulder.

I followed her over the edge, burying myself deep and coming hard, pulsing inside her, filling her with every drop. No protection. Just raw, reckless possession.

Reality slammed back as my vision cleared.

I was still inside her, chest heaving, her legs trembling around me. Cum leaked between us, marking the table, marking her. I’d broken every promise. To Richard. To myself. To her.

I’d fucked my best friend’s daughter raw on a boardroom table because some prick smiled at her.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t sorry.

Not even a little.