I’ve been in this billionaire’s game for a month — but something changed when half my competition was eliminated.
It feels less like a contest now … and more like an experiment.
I shouldn’t have made it past the first round. I don’t know how I did; I’m not special like the others. When I ask Daniel, he just tells me it’s complicated. Then he talks about brain chemistry, how love and sex are an addiction. He tells me how wild animals claim mates, and how he’s claimed me.
The stakes are higher.
The competition is fiercer.
I should have been kicked out long ago, but Daniel tells me I might be the needle in the haystack the company has been looking for.
Sometimes I’m afraid of them all, even of Daniel.
But It’s like I’m on a tether. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.
“Kneel.”
His hands go to his black leather belt, and he slowly unfastens it, watching me comply. The ground is bare concrete, and I can feel minuscule grit pressing into my knees. I’m wearing sandals. When the bands start cutting into my ankles as I kneel, I reach back and slip them off, too.
I feel so strange, on my knees in this room, naked save a pair of plain cotton panties. I’d swear he should be able to see my racing heart, in the swells of my naked breasts. The air is cool, and gooseflesh prickles me. But of all the sensations, the fullness in my sopping panties is most present. Of all my urges, the one to slip my hand inside them and caress my clit is hardest to resist.
I watch his pants unzip. I watch his cock come out, already full and heavy and stiff.
He closes the distance between us. He reaches down to take my chin in one hand, and I look up a little when he does. My jaw opens, and he enters me. His hardness fills my mouth, weighing on my tongue.
“Make me come,” he growls.
I wrap my hand around his root, my lips surrounding his hot shaft and head. I roll my eyes to look up at him, and he’s still boring into me with that almost-sinister gaze. His hand moves around to the back of my head, gathering my loose hair into a ponytail. I can feel the tension in his arm and fist. I know he wants to pull me roughly forward and make me choke. So I move first, sucking his cock, rolling my hand around it below my lips in big, wet, saliva-slicked circles.
“Touch yourself, Bridget,” he commands.
So I put my hand inside my panties, relieved that I’ve finally been given permission. My own touch is electric, so relieving. I almost come on the spot.
“Not like that. I want to see your fingers on your pussy.”
His words are too much. So is his cock in my mouth. I picture him coming, filling my throat. And in that moment, I lose control, all at once, with almost no warning. I let it happen with his shaft in my mouth, bucking with the waves, my eyes closing, feeling my pulsing body move on him, making him fuck my mouth.
When I look up, he shakes his head as if disgusted. But he can’t stop his hips from moving, and I can tell any control he feigns is a farce. He’s moving himself in and out, begging for my grip, for my suction. His hand on the back of my head presses harder. I feel his tip balloon between my lips — one pulse, like a hard throb.
“Do it again,” he says. “Do it right.”
Careful to keep his cock in my mouth, I kneel high enough to pull my panties down. I spread my knees as far as my lowered panties allow and touch my pussy, spreading it for him. My fingers move. Diving in a little, missing my vibrator, which can hit my G-spot. I focus on my clit, which has barely refracted and is begging for another orgasm. It hits as Daniel unloads in my mouth, surprising me and leaving me fighting to swallow in the grips of my tremors.
I take what I can, but some dribbles out. I meet his eyes as I lick the rest off, seeing how it makes him thrust anew, as if meaning to come again.
“Stand up and bend over,” he says.
“I thought men couldn’t come again that fast,” I say, finally finding my voice as I obey.
“With you,” he says, “I can.”
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.
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