“I didn’t ask you to suck my cock,” he grits out as my hand wraps around his impressive length, circling the base.
“You don’t want me to?” I reply, glancing up at him with the most innocent expression that I can rally. “You might enjoy it. You’re so wound up, in fact, that I can’t think of a better way to clear your head than with a little…”
I trail off, letting innuendo handle the rest. Right now, my mouth has more important matters to attend to—right on the tip of his length.
Softly, I press the head of his cock against my flat tongue and offer him a lick, mostly for show. It’ll feel much better for him to have my lips wrapped around him, but I want to see if I can get him to lower his shields for the night. Ideally, he’ll drop the domineering asshole act that we both know isn’t him. I think we’ll both enjoy ourselves so much more if he does.
I look up at him, licking the tip repeatedly, and enjoying how his chest has started to swell with heavy breaths. Another lick, another heavy breath. He begins to thrust lightly, maybe involuntarily, asking for more.
Obliging, I scoot closer to him, dragging my knees on the hardwood floor before I tug his pants lower, enough to expose his muscular thighs. I press my hands flat against them, feeling his hard body and the dusky hair on his skin as I finally work his cockhead between my lips.
Blow jobs aren’t my specialty, but I’ve never had complaints. Almost as soon as I start, I can tell that Davis will have no complaints. His hand goes to my hair, tightening around a fistful of it. He pushes me forward—not too hard, but hard enough to make me speed up.
I begin to work him deep, taking more of his length with each bob of my head. I can feel his tip drawing closer to my throat, threatening to make my eyes water as I move on his member. Groaning, I tighten my left hand against his thigh and bring my right up to wrap around his cock.
“Enough,” he grits out, stopping me suddenly.
Confused, I make eye contact and slowly release him from my lips. His expression is completely illegible. His eyes are filled with near-animosity, but his lower lip is tight under his teeth, like he’s holding back the urge to scoop me up and replace my mouth with my pussy. There’s something about the way that he exhales though. It’s almost as though he’s not just angry with me, but actually furious.
“Lie down,” Davis orders, now speaking through his teeth amid the darkest expression I’ve ever seen on his face. Somehow, three minutes of head have turned this man into a human hurricane—and I’m right in the path of destruction.
I blink a couple of times, trying to understand the command, before I ask, “On the floor?”
“Lie down,” he repeats, all but confirming my ask.
Dutifully, I do as I’m told and carefully arrange myself on the cold hardwood at Davis’s feet. No matter how smooth and expensive it may be, a floor is still a floor—and I can feel the surface pressing against my shoulder blades. There’s no comfort to be found, especially not when I look up at Davis who is standing over me as he meticulously unbuttons his shirt.
“Fuck,” Davis mutters, his focus shifting up and down, taking me in from top to bottom. “You look unbelievable. Show me how wet you are.”
Relieved that I’m not being punished for whatever I did, I do as he orders. I dip my fingers between my pussy lips and slide them along from my entrance up to my clit before raising my hand up from Davis to see.
His eyes zero in on my wet fingers, widening briefly with approval before his expression unfurls into a sexy smirk. When I split my fingers so he can see how wet I am, he groans audibly before saying, “You’re really the horniest woman I’ve ever met. Imagine being so turned on by being paid to suck a dick.”
What the actual fuck?
Surprised, I stutter on an inhale as my mind processes what I’m hearing. Did Davis really just say that?
“Don’t try to hide it,” he continues disdainfully. “You’ve already played your hand.”
My spot on the floor only adds to the shock value of the moment—that I’m actually spread out at his feet. That I’m on my back, staring up at this giant of a man, and listening to him deride me like that. There’s a level of malevolence that I’ve never heard from him before, a degree of twistedness that feels so foreign. Who the hell is this?
“You’re something, Olivia,” he says as he tosses his expensive shirt onto the couch nearby—because unlike me, his shirt is too good to be on the floor. “Dripping wet like a little slut and I haven’t even touched you.”
My traitorous nipples harden at his crude words, even as cold realization passes over me, replacing heat with disbelief. Only now the motivation behind his stipulation in our contract is clear: This is what he wanted to say to me. This I what he meant when he asked, no insisted that he could say whatever he wanted.
He planned on degrading me.
He did it to humiliate me.
That sexy smirk suddenly looks predatory as he cants his head, watching me intently like he knows exactly what’s going on in my brain.
“Play with yourself,” he instructs. “You’ve already shown that you’re wet enough to ruin my floors. You may as well keep going.”
“Davis,” I say, fighting back the unsteadiness that threatens to invade my voice.
“Play with yourself,” he repeats, his tone harder. “And try not to make a mess. If you get a drop of that gushing wetness on my floors, you’re going to lick it up.”
What?! “Why are you—”
“We had a deal,” he reminds me as he removes the expensive timepiece on his wrist. “Signed and agreed. The ink is long dry, and you’re already ten thousand dollars richer. Walk out now if you don’t want another ten. I don’t give a shit.”
“Yeah, but…” I trail off because there’s nothing that could possibly follow that “but.” He’s right: I signed the contract and I consented to this, but I can walk out right now.
The thing is, I don’t want to. I want to stay for the money. I need to stay for the money.
Instead of protesting again, I lower my hand down to my pussy and dip it underneath the brim of my underwear, where I find myself as wet as he described me. When I begin to touch myself, satisfaction begins to pass over me like a much-needed drink of water. Because despite how surreal this is, my body is still yearning for it. My duplicitous, evil body.
Apparently, it’s not just about the money.
As I work myself, Davis lowers down to his knees, crouching over my stomach. In this position, his cock hovers over my chest at just the right spot for me to raise myself up on my elbows and to take him in my mouth. Before I can, he takes himself in his own hand and begins to work his own length.
“I didn’t say to stop playing with yourself,” he admonishes. “You don’t stop until we both come; is that clear?”