December 5, 2024
Daphne shields her eyes from the flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras. She clings onto Fred's arm as they enter City Hall along with their colleagues. They've returned to Washington D.C. for an award ceremony; Daphne has been nominated for Best Journalist on the East Coast.
It's been a year since Fred and Daphne moved back to New York City and took up positions at the New York Post. Their new boss, Nicholas Angel, put Daphne's name forward for the award for her latest article, which exposed the managers of a local sporting goods store for their mistreatment of their employees; one incident involved a woman giving birth in the toilets.
Angel had flowers sent to her and a card signed by everyone on their floor. He'd also framed Daphne's article and added it to the wall of successful news stories published by the paper. Her parents also framed a copy and hung it on the wall in their living room, Thalia tells Daphne that their mother shows it to everyone who comes to the door.
Even so, Daphne is reluctant to attend this evening. She would rather stay home and watch a movie. But Thalia and her cousin Tyler helped pick out the "perfect dress." It's a dark purple with a V-neck line and a deep back cut, subtly sequinned all over, and sleeveless, exposing her soft ivory skin.
She pondered Fred's stunned look when she asked him to zip her up. He gingerly moved her soft red hair to the side before he zipped the dress, it closed halfway up her back. Fred then snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his body, 'You look beautiful.' He whispered in her ear and Daphne felt the goosebumps over her body, 'We don't have to go, I doubt they'd know if we don't show.' Daphne spoke softly. Fred pressed his warm lips to her exposed neck, 'They would. Besides, what if you win?' Daphne breathed a laugh, 'I doubt it, Freddy.'
City Hall has been elegantly decorated for the evening, with purple band gold sparkly banners hanging from the ceiling to the walls, leading the way to the main hall. A sea of paparazzi focuses on reporters from Good Morning America and KBC.
Daphne and Fred wait to take their seats with their colleagues. Daphne stares absentmindedly at the slow-spinning 2025 National Press Awards Logo projected onto a blank wall at the back of the stage. Fred spots some of their former colleagues from the Washington Post but gladly hasn't seen Gilroy yet.
Finally, Daphne and Fred take their seats. 'It's so beautiful here.' Says Lucy Hammond, one of the wives sitting beside her. She's dressed in a beautiful black dress which compliments her small bump. 'Do you think you'll win?' Asks Stephanie Hanson - their colleague. Daphne shakes her head, 'I doubt it, have you seen who else is in the category?' Daphne asks and Stephanie quickly looks at the program in her hands, 'Oh, Wanda Ratcliffe. She's excellent and a favorite.' Daphne nods. 'Well, I think you've got a good chance.' Fred says as he brings her knuckles to his lips. His tender gesture sends a warmth through her body.
Fred dressed in his black tux, gives her an air of confidence and he looks gorgeous, "drop-dead gorgeous" Daphne's sister would say. He tried his hardest to comb back his Superman curl but it wouldn't comply, Daphne doesn't care, she thinks it's cute. His aftershave lingers gently - earthy and sweet - a favorite of Daphne's.
The lights dim and the ceremony begins and Kent Brown - a retired journalist from the New York Times - steps onto the stage to host the ceremony. Categories and winners are announced; the New York Times won the Best Newspaper in 2024 Award, thanks to Wanda Ratcliffe who gave a brief speech. Daphne idolized Wanda Ratcliffe since she was young. She's a crime reporter with amazing experience. Wanda Ratcliffe is a household name and looks lovely in her glamorous gold sequin dress which trails behind her.
Now over halfway through the evening, it comes to the category of Best Journalist on the East Coast. Daphne wonders which of the nominees would win; Wanda Ratcliffe from the New York Times, Claire Sawyer from The New Hampshire Gazette, or Jacqueline Pacey from the Boston Post. All are big names and very talented writers.
A slim lady with long curled brown hair, wearing a long red dress walks across the stage and hands Kent Brown a white envelope. He opens it slowly, building up the anticipation in the hall, 'The winner for the Best Journalist on the East Coast is….'
Wanda Ratcliffe. Claire Sawyer. Jacqueline Pacey.
'Daphne Blake from the New York Post!'
A gentle nudge from Stephanie brings Daphne back to reality. She listens as the crowd cheers and claps. Daphne looks at Stephanie, 'What?' Daphne asks. 'You won!' Stephanie cheers. Her colleagues have risen to their feet, all clapping and cheering. She turns to Fred, who's laughing at her bewildered look. This doesn't feel real. Her palms are sweaty, and her legs are shaking as she stands up.
She steps down to the stage. Her mind is lost for words. She glances out the corner of her eye to see Wanda Ratcliffe clapping, she waves to her as Daphne passes her. This is all just a dream, she'll wake up any moment now in her bed in New York City. But she's on the stage, her mind still tumbling over the words as Kent Brown shakes her hand. His hand is sweaty but a humble smile spreads across his aging face. 'Congratulations.' He says, barely audible over the cheering crowd.
The room slowly falls silent as Daphne gives her speech, it's such a blur she's not sure what she's saying, something about her colleagues, her family, and Fred. She accepts the award from Kent Brown and returns to her seat. Fred takes her hand as she wipes her eyes, she feels him squeezing her hand and she looks at him, seeing his glossy eyes and smile across his face. He brings her knuckles to his lips. 'I told you you'd win.' He smiles.
When the ceremony ends and everyone moves to the next room for drinks, Daphne is still in disbelief. Her colleagues offer to buy her drinks, but she declines but they don't take no for an answer. Everyone surrounds her to congratulate her and when she takes the first sip of her whisky, she feels her racing heart finally slow down.
The evening goes on and Daphne can feel the alcohol taking effect, just in time as a string of unknown males attempt to flirt with her. Of course she rejects them but it's not that that sent them away but Fred's threateningly furious look, 'I can handle them myself, you know.' Daphne says as she wraps her arm around his shoulder. 'I know.' Fred replies in an airy tone.
As the event winds down, Fred and Daphne climb into a cab to head to their hotel and the vehicle takes off into the cold night. Daphne's unfocused gaze follows the row of buildings along their route. 'I knew you would win.' Fred slurs slightly as he brushes her hair behind her ear. Daphne smiles, 'Yes, ok you were right.' She looks down at the plaque on her lap, hidden in the darkness but the flashes of street lights light it up as they drive under it.
Fred turns Daphne's face towards his and firmly presses his lips to hers. His fingers tangle in her red hair and his other hand slides down, resting on her thigh and squeezing gently. Daphne tastes the whisky on his breath as his tongue slides into her mouth, colliding with hers. She clutches onto the soft material of his shirt.
The vehicle slows and Daphne pulls away. Fred pays the driver and tells him to keep the change before the two quickly climb out of the car and Fred drags her into the building. The woman at the 24-hour front desk doesn't look up from her magazine when they enter. Fred presses the button for the elevator and it descends from the second floor.
Daphne can feel Fred's eyes roaming over her body. With a ding, the doors slide open and they enter the empty elevator. Fred presses the button for the seventh floor and as the doors slowly close, he pushes Daphne against the mirrored wall in a ferocious kiss. His hot mouth covers hers and his tongue explores her mouth. Daphne tangles her fingers in his hair while holding the plaque in her other hand. Fred's hands roam eagerly over her body, touching her hair and her breasts, caressing her curves, and squeezing her ass which earns a moan from Daphne.
Her head falls back as Fred attacks her neck, his large hands focusing on a particular area of her body. Moans escape her lips as he moves down to her shoulder, her chest, and meets the soft flesh of her breasts which he fondles over her dress. She feels the bulge in his pants and teases him above the material, she reveals in his whimpers. The elevator dings and Fred pulls away, he takes her by the hand and drags her to their room.
Daphne leans against the door frame as Fred fumbles for the key card inside his wallet. She drags her fingertips down his chest, feeling his solid abs underneath and his shiver. Her hand reaches the waistband of his pants and loosens the belt. She attaches her lips to his neck and gently bites his soft skin, his breath hitches as she pulls the buttons of his pants.
The green light flashes on the lock. Fred pushes the door open and he moves her into the room. Daphne puts the plaque onto the side table and unbuckles her shoes as Fred kicks off his before he takes Daphne into his arms in a heated kiss. His large hands caress the curvature of her ass and he lifts her, wrapping her legs around his waist. If her dress didn't have a split it surely would have torn.
Fred carries her to the bed and lays her down. He steps back to remove his blazer and pants. 'Help me get this off.' Daphne pleads desperately. Fred eagerly unzips the dress and helps Daphne out of it, the dress falls to the floor.
Daphne lays back on the bed as Fred towers over her. She unbuttons his shirt as Fred drags his lips down her neck, leaving small bites in his trail. His hands cup her breasts and he sucks each nipple into his mouth. Daphne's head sinks into the pillow and she lets out a soft groan, tangling her fingers in his hair and scraping her nails along his scalp, he groans in response and gently bites her nipple. She's desperate for more of his touch and to feel every part of him.
Fred pulls his lips away and slides down her body, he hooks his fingers into her panties, pulls them down, and throws them to the side. Daphne bites her lower lip as Fred pushes her legs apart, she gasps when she feels his warm lips against her clit and he groans something inaudible, sending vibrations through her body.
Her fingers slide into his soft blonde locks to pull him closer as he licks her up and down. His actions are slow, teasing as he enjoys her frustrated whimpers, 'Freddy…'. She whines, biting her lower lip.
Fred knows how to make her feel good; his hands caress her curves as he moans against her, his mouth becoming hungrier, and a familiar feeling pools in her belly. But she wants more of him, he's incredible. She gasps when she feels Fred slide two digits inside her. It's like he's reading her mind as his movements become more vigorous.
Her whimpers turn to moans. Her heart is thumping in her chest and her legs begin to shake as she comes to her climax. Fred grips her thighs, holding her legs still as he tastes her on his tongue.
Fred pulls away and is on his knees between her legs. Daphne's eyes are fixed on his gorgeous toned body bathed in the moonlight that shines through the window. His lips glisten in the dim light and a cheeky grin spreads across his lips. Her eyes travel down his chest and to the bulge in his boxers. Fred pulls them down and his hardness springs out. Daphne feels herself melting into the mattress as his large frame dominates her once more.
Their eyes are locked as Fred slides inside her, Daphne grips his shoulders as he stretches her. Her body is tense from her orgasm but the sensation feels incredible. She gasps when he's fully inside. Fred presses his forehead against hers as he slowly begins to move.
But his movements are agonizingly slow. Daphne growls through gritted teeth as a smirk lingers on Fred's lips. 'Fred…' She whines. 'What do you want, Daph? Tell me.' He purrs. His enchanting eyes lock with hers and she's lost for words, 'Faster…'
'I didn't hear you.' He says firmly. Daphne squeezes her eyes shut and cries, 'Fuck me faster!'
Fred doesn't say anything but he does want she wants. He begins to thrust faster and sharper into her. Hitting the spot each time and sending electricity through her. Any attempts at stifling her cries are futile and she vocalizes her pleasure.
'You know I love listening to you.' Fred growls in her ear. He tangles his fingers in her hair and gently pulls, giving a slight burning sensation on her scalp. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, the sounds of her arousal are intoxicating and Fred tries to focus.
Daphne digs her nails into his shoulders as she feels the electricity coursing through her body. She gasps when Fred rolls onto his back, pulling her on top of him and keeping himself inside. 'Daphne…' He moans her name softly as he takes in the beauty before him. Daphne lays her hands flat on his toned chest to hold herself up. Fred grasps her thighs as she begins to roll her hips against his.
Her hair is tousled, her skin slick with sweat. Her eyes are wide with arousal and her perky breasts bounce in front of him, holding his full attention. Fred is entranced. He feels he's going to lose control. He grasps her hips, pulls her down on his hardness and thrusts up into her. It has the desired effect as Daphne screams his name.
'Fred!' She screams his name over and over again. Riding him as she comes to her second climax. Sweat rolls down her body and she digs her nails into his soft skin. Her inner muscles tighten around him and Fred continues fucking her, hitting the spot while she whimpers on top of him. He growls through gritted teeth, not breaking eye contact as his white-hot release bursts inside her.
Daphne collapses on top of him, breathless, and weak. Fred holds her there, 'I love you.' He breathes.
'I love you, Freddy.'