It sets fire to the passion boiling within me and I come undone, lust unbuckling the seams of my mind and releasing a floating, falling sensation of lust and ecstasy. My pussy is shaking with need, cum gushing out of me with a searing white-hot heat, and his mouth laps it up as it flows down my thighs again. The feel of his tongue, his lips, and then his teeth removing all the evidence of how hard I came, offering to alleviate the symptom but not curing the cause, it makes me moan low in my throat.
He releases my hands and comes back up to kiss me again. Again, I taste me, I taste my pussy on his lips, and I want to melt into the taste of me on his mouth.
Our kiss finally breaks, and I start to relax enough to finish my meal. I remain the perfect restaurant guest the rest of the time, at least in theory, but a heat is burned in my skull at the erotic flashbacks of the moments before the peaceful end to dinner. When we finally start to make our way to the limo, I can’t imagine that I’m the person who did those things…or that I was ever a person who wouldn’t do those things. I know that sounds really strange, but hear me out. I came so hard in that restaurant and it was an incredible experience. I wouldn’t trade the way that felt for a million dollars.
Or seven.
How can I be acting like this with someone I have a professional entanglement with? I don’t know, but I let myself push the thought away for now because I want to be able to enjoy the rest of this evening before I have to cope with the rest of life crashing down on us. For now, we’re two people having quite possibly one of the best nights of our lives.
As he holds the car door open for me, I take a deep breath and tell myself that I can do this. Because I can. I’m a grown woman. Whose thighs are still a little wobbly and whose panties are in a state of ruin like they have never known. But that’s so totally beside the point.
“What did you think of the restaurant?’ Jake asks. He doesn’t have a joking laugh on his face for once, but I can’t help but laugh.
“I thought the menu was divine,” I tell him, and I let myself giggle.
“I think I tasted some of the most exquisite flavors in the world there, for sure,” Jake says. Now I really understand that phrase about someone having a twinkle in their eye, because Jake’s face reads as pure mischief.
“Is that so?” I say. “I think I found it quite appetizing to my palate as well,” I offer. I loved tasting my pussy on his mouth. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever done in my life.
“Yeah, I mean, we get an A plus in conflict resolution right? No need to level a magic set of hands or lips for a seven million dollar fine,” Jake says and he’s laughing again, a deep, masculine sound that sends a thrill up and down my spine.
“Well hold your thought there, Jacob,” I say, and I put my hands on my hips. For two seconds I think he's serious and it totally infuriates me. I look into his eyes, narrowing mine, and then I realize that, no, he understands that what happened tonight and what’s happening with the FCC are two separate issues.
Jake
“You’re still not off the hook with the FCC,” Layla tells me with a smirk as we ride through Manhattan in my limo. I’m not ready for my night with her to be over, so I’m having my driver take her home.
I laugh. “You’re kidding, right?” Though I’m not sure she actually is. Layla strikes me as someone who takes her job very seriously. She also gives me the impression she wouldn’t let the fact that we just had hot, crazy sex override her work ethic.
She just lifts her eyebrows mysteriously.
I pull her a little closer to me. “Why are you doing this?”
“What?”
“Trying to get my show canceled.”
She sighs as she settles against me. “I’m doing my job. I’m trying to protect people.”
“People don’t need to be protected from pleasure, Layla. People deserve this kind of pleasure.”
You’d think this conversation would be awkward or filled with some kind of anger or regret considering what we just did. But it’s not at all. It feels very relaxed and natural. Just two people talking about their thoughts, their philosophies.
Layla is someone I could really enjoy spending time with. Yeah, she fucks like a champ, and she’s incredibly gorgeous. But she’s also intelligent and opinionated. I like her a lot, and even if we have differing views, I still respect her opinions.
“So, do you watch any other TV shows?” I ask.
Her head bobs, her blonde hair fanning out over my shoulder. It smells really fucking good. Some heady, sexy vanilla scent. “I actually never miss an episode of Manhattan Reign. It’s my guilty pleasure.”
“Babe, guilt and pleasure should never be in the same sentence,” I tease. Then I remember something I heard about that show. “Isn’t that the show where the two lead characters actually had sex on camera during a love scene? And it aired live? Why weren’t they fined?”
Layla nods again. “That’s the one.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But that’s just a rumor.”
I’m not so sure it is. If so, why haven’t they been slapped with a fine like the FCC is trying to do to me? They had full on sex on live TV, yet I’m getting a seven million dollar fine slapped on me for every single episode ever.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I have to uphold values. There have to be standards.” She says it like she isn’t fully convinced. Not at all like she did the first day she came to the studio and called my show obscene.
I wonder if she’s starting to view things differently now that she’s seen behind the scenes and gotten to know me personally. But still, her word choice is off.