Cecily and Vince Ch. 02

Howdy! Another installment to Cecily and Vince, I hope you guys are doing well! I'm out on these streets with a brand new ✨Bachelor's Degree✨, hope I get a job before summer's end, lol! Congrats to all you other virtual graduates, hope you enjoy Vince getting on Cecily's last nerve.

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"Y'all gotta both stop talking at once, Pop, I can't hear anything you're saying."

The other day my father called me freaking out about a lump my mother found in her breast, and now, early Thursday morning with them both on the phone, I'm trying hard not to do the same. She has a doctor's appointment next week. Are they going to try and do a biopsy? She just had a mammogram, right? Why wasn't it caught then?

My primary thought, though, is that I might have to go back home and take care of them both.

"I told your dad that he's fussing over nothing right now, we have to wait and see what the doctor says."

"Cassie, don't tell me not to fuss, my wife might have breast cancer," my father gruffs.

"Well, Charlie, that's the thing, I might have it. You getting all riled up-"

"I get to be riled up because I done told you so many times to take them Echinacea pills I got in the cabinet, and now look-"

"Charles you think some immune system pills is supposed to prevent cancer?!"

I listen to them go at it while I get ready to leave for work, chanting "keys, wallet, phone, charger" in my head and swiftly checking to make sure I have each one.

My mother is a little too chill and "sleep it off" for her own good, and my father is probably going to drive her up a wall by dumping his cure-all, onions and garlic, into every meal. I remember days when I had to stay home sick with him - sometimes he'd try to get me to eat an onion like an apple.

"Ma, I've gotta go, okay? Please keep me updated about your appointment, don't just try to fix everything with CBD oil again."

She stops bantering with my father long enough to respond. "Okay, girlie, go on and have fun flirting with them loud boys at your job."

I stop in my tracks, halfway out the door, and almost stumble over my own feet. There's no way Aunt Gina dreamt about that - she's gotta be bluffing. I chuckle. "Okay, Ma, I will," I say, smiling as wide as I can, transmitting my Daughter's Poker Face through the wires all the way back to North Carolina.

"Mmhmm. Be safe."

I hear the amusement in her voice, and as I slide my phone to my back pocket I remind myself to call Aunt Gina sometime this week.

. . .

I see Vince leaned up against my desk from the hallway as I step out of the stairwell, and my mind flips back and forth between annoyance and content. I feel myself settle on heavy tolerance with a chance of mild irritation as he looks me up and down with a self-satisfied smirk, watching me walk around the front of my desk to sit in my little chair.

"Morning, Vincent," I say, exerting myself to deviate from my usual dry tone. I'm going to be clapping my ass back on him sooner rather than later; I could stand to be a little nicer.

"Hey, babe," he grins. He flips around and leans his elbows on the countertop in his usual position, playing with the cup of pens that I battle to keep full in the struggle against petty thieves.

I frown, just a little bit. I'm not one for public displays of affection, even pet names. I cringe when people have to kiss in front of their families at weddings. "Please don't call me that in public," I mutter.

He cocks his head in dramatized confusion, eyebrows coming together. "Why not?"

"At least not at the office," I say. "I know we can't avoid people talking, but I think we can prevent half the Sales department from coming up and asking if you've popped the question."

"Is that a hint?"

"That's me telling you to keep your mouth shut." Be nice, Cecily. "Please."

He nods, eyebrows raised. "Oh," he says. And then he turns around and calls over Liza, who's passing by with her head bent over her phone.

"Morning, guys," she says, curious. I take my eyes from the side of Vince's head to smile at her.

"Heyyy, Liz," Vince sparkles. "Quick question, where do you think I should take Cecily for our date on Saturday?"

Her blue eyes bug out of her head and she smiles. "Well... mini-golf's a good idea, since the weather's gonna be pretty good this weekend." She looks to me, I think, but I can't say for sure since my eyes are back to drilling a hole into the side of Vince's dumb, giant blond head. Her next words are almost a giggle. "Anyway, I should get going. Have fun, guys."

Vince watches her retreat and I nod my head in understanding, opening up the three emails I've already gotten from Harley, who I can see glancing at us through her open blinds. "Vince, I'm curious. What do you think I'm going to do if you keep going?"

He clinks the pens together in the mug, straightfaced. "I think you're gonna have a great time. I could ask Trey what he thinks too, he's right there." Trey, walking towards Harley's office, looks over at the mention of his name. I shake my head slightly, letting a little bit of the murder in my mind show on my face, and he hustles on his way into Harley's office. "Oh, you scared him away."

Vince and I stare each other down for a few moments, a smile on his face and a scowl on mine.

He speaks. "So, mini-golf?"

The elevator doors ding down the hall and I hear the telltale clicking of Paula's cane. I lean back in my chair, silently daring him to call her over. He doesn't have to.

"Hey, you two," Paula says slyly, coming to a stop beside Vince. "How's married life?"

I chuckle dryly and Vince gives her a shit-eating grin, twirling a pen between his fingers. "Swell, Paula, I was just looking at Cecily and thinking how lucky I am to come home to such a hot little piece every night."

My grip tightens so suddenly on my mouse that I accidentally click out of the drafted response I had typed out to Harley's latest message: "Please refrain from threatening your coworkers, even the ones you're romantically involved with ;)". Probably for the best, actually, since "Bitch, you can get it too" would've needed a few rewrites anyway.

Paula looks at me. "Be careful Vince, luck runs out, you know," she laughs.

I finally decide on a mood: deceptively good-natured. I straighten up at my seat and open my email back up. "I don't know, Paula, I kind of like the way he dances across every nerve in my body," I pipe. "What a man, you know?"

They both stop their banter and in the silence I send Harley a response: "Wouldn't dream of it, Ms. Samfield!"

From the office in the corner, her prolonged burst of laughter interrupts the silence, and I imagine the tears, which come very easily to her, streaming down her face. Paula joins in, cackling as I hear the click of her cane recede to the distant cubicles.

I'm totally occupied by the graph on my computer, scribbling furiously on my notepad, but I hope Vince has wariness written all over his face, replacing the reckless glee that had been there before. I want to look up and see it so badly. I might just ask Elliot, the security guard in the back rooms, to show me this morning's tapes.

"Cecily?" He's tapping a pen slowly on the countertop.

"Vince?" I scratch two deep lines into a canceled meeting on my paper. I hear the pen taps slow even more.

"Wanna go to lunch together?"

I finally ease my gaze onto his, and give him a blinding smile. "I'll be taking a conference call with Samfield during my lunch hour, but feel free to go with Luz and Paula today. I'm sure you can think of even better date ideas."

I watch his ass as he walks away.

. . .

"Cecily?" I hear near the end of my day. People keep calling my goddamn name. I look up into Harley's heavily-lined eyes, hoping she's not giving me anything else to file.

"Yes, Ms. Samfield?"

"I hope you didn't forget, I'm heading out a bit early today, my kid's got a volleyball thing. Just file the last conference calls we did for review."

"Yes, Ms. Samfield."

She smirks and leans her elbows over the countertop, much like Vince would do. "Cecily."

"Ms. Samfield." I think she's vibrating with laughter.

"What are you gonna do to him?"

I smile politely and shrug my shoulders, idly registering the pool of her breasts on top of her arms. She must be wearing a lightly-padded bra today. "To who?"

She sucks her teeth, just like my mom would, and I get a sharp stab of homesickness. "I'm not Paula, I won't tell half the department, you know."

I consider this. She probably wouldn't, but honestly the discomfort around people talking about me around here is dulling a little anyway. I let my smile reach my eyes. "I have no idea, ma'am, I just know I want to irritate him as much as he does me."

She leans forward, deviousness in her grin, and the harsh fluorescent lighting casts ominous shadows over her face. "We can arrange that."

. . .

The next morning Luz is confused as she spots me at the front desk to her department, the floor above mine. I wave her over as I finish directing a client to the waiting area.

"What you doing here, momma?" she smiles.

"Just exploring the idea of a transfer," I smile. "Ms. Samfield wanted me to get more familiar with the Marketing floor, and Rudy's covering the desk downstairs." I should've arrived at the third floor office an hour ago, fifteen minutes after Vince gets there and usually when he struts over to my desk for his first round of "Poke the Bear."

"Good, I guess." Luz looks suspicious, but after a moment her sunny smile returns, and she swings her heavy copper hair over her shoulder. "Wanna go to lunch together? I gonna make Paula go to somewhere else besides the deli today, I promise."

I chuckle, and think about the chances of Vince finding me on my break. "I gotta run home really quick during lunch, but I'mma help you get her to eat at a nice spot next time, Luz."

She continues on her way, and I imagine she texts Paula as soon as she gets to her cubicle. This floor doesn't have nearly as much traffic, and while I work on a shared document with Rudy I have time to think about my mother's upcoming appointment.

Even if the results are negative, I should go down there. I haven't taken any days off in the year since I started, and this is just a reminder how far away I am from my family. Aside from a good job, new friends, and three-months left to my lease renewal, there's nothing really keeping me here.

I'm startled out of my reverie by the shuffle of chairs in the gathered cubicles that means the start of lunch, and I hurry to head to the bathroom. Then instead of following the crowd down to the ground floor and heading home like I told Luz, I sequester myself in the dim little lunchroom in the back of the office.

Vince should know I'm gone by now. If he were waiting in the stairwell for me on my way to lunch, or accompanying Luz and Paula in the hopes of running into me, then I guess it's too damn bad that I apparently had to run home today.

I pause halfway through my sandwich, in the middle of the page of the shitty romance novel I'm reading, to ask myself: is this petty and childish?

I generally make it a rule to veer away from being vindictive, but I got caught up in playing my coworkers' games. I'm having so much fun that I've forgotten the real point that I should be making, and the mature way in which I should be doing it. I need to set boundaries, badly. I don't care how sexy he is, or how easy it is to play with him. I seriously could get swept up in all of this and have to find a new job.

"You're thinking pretty hard." I look up and see Vince leaning against the doorway, somehow even the foggy yellow light of this room catching a shine in his hair.

I lean back in my chair, taking in the way the scowl of his mouth contrasts with the smile around his eyes. The room is immediately stifling. "Oh?"

"You stopped reading your smut and started staring up into space, I was worried I'd have to get the smelling salts." A little distracted by the urge to tell him that smelling salts are for fainting, I almost miss what he's said. How long has he been standing there?

I cross my legs under the table and close the book, with a long-haired and smooth-chested man gracing the front cover who, honestly, kinda looks like the man standing in front of me. I wonder if Vince has a lot of hair on his chest. I've seen his bare arms, and they're covered in light brown hair. His legs would probably be the same.

"How's your day been?" I ask, aiming to play innocent as long as possible. I keep my eyes dutifully above his neck and not on the shifting muscle of his back and legs as he walks over to sit down across from me.

He shrugs. "Hmm. I thought you had to stop at home."

"Yeah, got back fast." I feel a smile haunting my lips and start drumming my fingers on my book, immediately forgetting my aspiration towards maturity.

"Why're you up here?"

"Harley's trying something out for next quarter."

"That involves you suddenly vacating your position without notice?" He shifts in his seat, and I involuntarily raise an eyebrow.

"The only person I had to notify was Harley." I'm making trouble for no reason, I tell myself.

"And you're calling her Harley? What happened to Ms. Samfield?"

"She asked me to call her Harley." I lick my lips to seal the smile in.

"She always asks you to call her Harley." He sighs, almost wearily, and looks at the clock. "I gotta get back soon."

"I'll bet you do." The smile erupts out of my face, and I let a whisper of a giggle escape. Then his hands are on my arms, pulling me up into a bear hug. My cheek is pressed against his shoulder and my breath is limited to the space he's left for my body between the vise of his chest and arms.

"I didn't expect to feel so crushed by not seeing you, Cecily, it ruined the first half of my fucking day," he whispers into my ear, and I feel warm honey flow over my limbs as his grip softens and his hands begin to stroke instead of crush: up and down my back, carving a line of heat down my center.

"Vince," I breathe, a little concerned at the gravitational pull keeping me from simply stepping away from him. He sounds possessive as hell and I should be turned off by it. I want to drag him home.

"Yeah?"

I try to sum up my lecture into a single phrase. "Be discreet at work."

He squeezes me once more and steps back, the controlled look on his face almost breaking me. I want to feel him all around me, in this janky little room, surrounded by folding chairs.

"I'm seeing you tonight."

"That was a rather demanding request," I say, my right eye twitching from the restraint of not rolling the both of them.

"Or I'll see you right now," he mutters, eyes swirling down to the hem of my skirt. "Wall's right there. Bathroom's a couple meters away. It's real discreet back here."

I think about how quietly I could cum with a leg hiked up on the wall and him plunging into me from behind. And then I remember how adamantly I was against PDA less than 24 hours ago.

"Vincent, you can ask me nicely, and I'll say yes or no."

He growls his next words. "Cecily, can I fuck you stupid tonight?"

I lean forward and give him the lightest peck across his warm lips, feeling his breath stutter out to mingle with mine.

"Yes, dear, my place at nine."

. . .

"Parking sucks here," Vince informs me, huffing and setting his overnight bag down on the floor as I lock the door behind him. My lights are dimmed enough that his hair isn't forming its own halo for once, but this humanistic quality doesn't quell any of the apprehension in my stomach. No matter.

"You had to walk a ways?" I ask, sauntering up behind him to rub at his shoulder and neck. "My poor baby boy!" I plant a kiss on his cheek and actually elicit a childlike giggle from him, and he whips around to wind his arms around my waist and arms when I would've stepped away.

"Babe," he smiles.

"Hmm?"

"Do you have any other plans besides me tonight?"

"I was gonna order pizza if we ever resurfaced," I inform him, spreading my legs as his fingertips cup my butt over the fabric. I never changed out of my skirt and blouse from the office because I just assumed we could continue where we left off, and I'm glad when he flips my skirt up and finds nothing but skin underneath. I feel that sensation of my limbs going soft again, and I lean into Vince, pushing my backside into his hands.

"Fuck yes, C," he groans. I poke my lips out and he bends his head to meet me, tracing the seam of my lips with his tongue and using his hands to mimic the motion on the seam between my legs. I try to worm my arms out from under his, suddenly desperate to get my hands on him, but he tightens his forearms over mine and traps me there. The next thing I feel is a finger delicately sliding over my lips, probing my entrance and sliding up through the wet to my clit. I gasp when he barely circles it.

"Vince," I say unsteadily, as he slips his finger back down to press into my hole.

"Yeah? You need something?" I strain against him, trying to free my hands again, and then trying to rock back on his finger; anything, but I can't move the way I want to. He stuffs his tongue into my mouth and mirrors the action below. I whine in my throat and feel the rumble of his dark laugh against my chest. It makes his finger quiver in me and my walls squeeze around it. He stops laughing to groan. "Baby, I love that, do it again." He twists his finger slightly in me, and I ease my mouth from his and meet his eyes. They're dilated and unfocused, and it feels like whatever restraint he's shown over the past few weeks has fluttered away.

"V-Vincent, stop playing," I finally manage to say. I'm surprised at how frail I sound, and I wonder at the power dynamic that's being established.

"Who's playing?" he murmurs, but he releases my arms. I bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head at the nape of his neck and slide the other down to palm the thick bulge between us, all the while sighing and gasping while he presses kisses across my face and pumps a sodden finger in and out of me.

While my breathing is shallow and high, his is thick and slow. I suddenly crave to see his treetrunk legs. I pull back as far as I can, accidentally seating myself on the full length of his finger, and tighten around him once more before gathering myself. "Bed?"

Vincent slides his hand from me, leaving me sucking at empty air, and maneuvers an arm under my back and legs to sweep me up. My stomach drops out. "Where is it, Cecily?"

I'm slow to respond, and he takes the chance to hoist me higher towards his face and nibble idly at my ear. I feel myself spasm, and I try not to wriggle in his grasp. "It's straight ahead, I left the door open." I want him so badly that my stomach is starting to cramp.

He forges ahead into my room and lays me down on the sheets, eyes on the brown flesh exposed by my skirt riding up around my waist. He unsnaps his jeans, probably to relieve some pressure, and starts unbuttoning my rumpled shirt.

"You think I can make you cry my name?" he smirks. My hands were busy kneading at his lower back, inching the waistband of his jeans over his hips, but I stop and narrow my eyes at him, ignoring his thumbs whispering over my nipples.

"Is that a challenge?"

I feel giddy when he pauses for a second, and I take my chance to crawl back further, into the center of the bed. I let my shirt drop off of me and he whips off his shirt and undershirt, exposing a flattened forest of chestnut-brown curls that begin to spring up immediately.

He crawls in and makes to climb on top of me, but I shift to knock him off balance as he kneels up over me, sliding down and out of his grasping arms to yank his pants down the rest of the way.

"C, baby-"

"Shhhh," I whisper, against the chubby, stout pole brushing my cheek. I feel slick between my legs and drop my fingers down to gather some, spreading it all along his length. He's going to split me open; I can't wait to feel the bite of it. But first I want to taste.