The Billionaire's CamGirl

“Like that?” he grunts, pulling out, and then slamming into me again. He stills for a moment, bringing his lips to my ankle and moaning against it. Then he starts rocking, and it’s slow and I feel it everywhere. I want to watch as his dick disappears inside me, but the feeling is too good, and my head falls back against the pillows. The pace is incredible, and he has me stretched so wide that I feel every ridge, every pulsing vein dragging against me. I want him to lose control, to pound into me, to come calling out my name, but his patience is incredible, and he continues steadily, excruciatingly slow, leaving a trail of exploding pleasure behind. I can feel a fresh burst of moisture inside me, and I clench down, chasing the trace of an orgasm that’s just within my reach.

He reacts urgently to the change and lifts my other ankle to his shoulder. His breath is straining, and he breathes out “Yes, yes, yes.” He’s increasing his speed and now leaning over me, his hand by my shoulder and his face hovering just an inch above mine.

“Does this feel good?” he asks against my lips, and I stare into his eyes, practically hypnotized. There’s no reason to reply because he knows. He knows this is the best I’ve ever had. I’m practically folded in half, his full weight against me, and with every move he’s riding my clit, a steady, mounting pressure grows. “I want to make you feel good, Weaver. You feel so fucking amazing on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about this pussy, and now that you’re here…” He trails off and drops his forehead against mine. I can hear every noise he makes. He’s moaning as he pulls out and plows back in, and I can tell he won’t last much longer. His tongue slips into my mouth, and our teeth gnash as we both tumble closer, the intensity growing, the feeling barreling toward us. “I want you to come with me,” he says. His mouth leaves mine and lands on my breasts, swirling his tongue around my nipple and creating a circuit of pleasure that send shockwaves through me. He looks up at me with a sly grin and says, “So that’s gonna do it?” I feel like I’m floating, in a hundred different pieces, and I focus on his face, the exertion and strain in his eyes, and then he hits a rhythm on my clit that tells me this is it, this is the one to follow. And all those pieces of me come into sharp focus. I’m riding this wave that won’t stop. And I want to tell him, tell him that I’m coming, but I can’t speak. But he can feel it. “There you go baby, there you go. Come for me. Let me feel it,” he says, and I do. I explode. My head thrashes from side to side on the pillow and the city lights come in and out of view in the window. I feel Chris pull out, and then he’s silent for a second, his face strained as the first spurts of cum shoot onto my pussy. I feel hot cum seep through my tights, onto my bare skin beneath. His groan fills the room. His face is illuminated by the moonlight, his chest covered in a layer of perspiration, and his hand is stroking the last drops from his dick and the aftershocks send him crashing onto the bed beside me.

I wake up to sun streaming through the hotel window. I love a hotel bed. The fine quality white sheets, the abundant pillows, the man next to me in bed. I move my arms all around me. Fine sheets? Check. Pillows? Check,check,check,check. The man? Missing. I sit up and look around. He’s not here. My heart drops.

I wrap the sheet around my body and walk to the bathroom. The mirror is foggy and the air smells like body wash. I rub my hand over the mirror to see my reflection. I look thoroughly used and sated. I instinctively slide my hand down my tummy and rest it between my legs. Memories of last night flood me and I start laughing to myself. Dates are pretty awesome.

I startle when I hear the door close outside. “Weaver?” Chris’s voice calls out.

“In here,” I call back, and step out of the bathroom. Chris has two cups of coffee and a small pastry bag in his hands. He places them beside the bed. He’s dressed in a dark navy suit, and I see his briefcase is set by the front door. I slide back into bed because I have some time before I need to meet Kate, and I’m not a morning person like Chris clearly is.

He leans down and kisses me, and as he pulls away my lips follow his, disappointed he can’t join me in bed. “I have an early meeting. I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you,” he says caressing the side of my face before turning toward his coffee and taking a sip. “I brought you this,” he says, pointing to the second cup. “And that’s a doughnut. I figured you be hungry this morning.” He winks at me.