Degradation (The Kane Trilogy 1) by Stylo Fantome

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she went for gold and lowered her mouth all the way down on him. When his tip hit the back of her mouth and started to slide down her throat, she finally heard his voice hitch. Victory. She slowly worked her mouth off of him, and then plunged right back again. He coughed to cover up a stutter. With him fully sheathed in her mouth, she ran one hand up between his legs, rolling her fingers around his sack. He coughed again and she backed off.

Finish this.

She began pumping away, working her hand and mouth up and down his dick. Every up sweep, she swirled her tongue around his head. Every down sweep, she squeezed his testicles. Then she would switch it up. Take a couple deep throats. Then back to bobbing and sucking.

Tate could hear it in his voice, he was having trouble. She felt a hand on the back of her head, and his fingers worked their way in to her hair. Twisted and pulled. Not enough to pull her away, but enough for her to feel him. She let out a small, breathy moan, dug her fingernails in to his thighs.

“Well, John, it's kinda late, and I have some work I need to do upstairs,” she heard Jameson say in a loud voice.

Cheating! He can't ask him to leave! Cheater!

Tate redoubled her efforts, pulled all her tricks out of the bag. Unsheathed her teeth, skimmed them against his skin. She heard him hiss at that one. Took him on the inside of her cheek, running the sensitive tip against the sides of her molars. He gave a full body shudder then. Then she ran her tongue over every inch of his nuts.

His voice was getting strained, his muscles were all tensing. He wasn't going to last much longer. She could hear Jameson trying to get the guy to leave. She ran her free hand up his leg, over his waist, and started up his stomach. When her fingertips were visible over the desk, his hand let go of her hair and grabbed at her fingers. Pressed his hand flat over them, against his stomach. She dug her claws in and raked the hand back down. More tension in his legs. He was breathing heavy, and through his t-shirt, she could feel sweat.

I'm going to win. I'm going to win. I'm going to -,

“It's almost eleven o'clock at night, John. Go the fuck home so I can go to bed,” Jameson suddenly barked out.

She was enraged. The cheating bastard. Tate went to pull away, but his hand was back in her hair, forcing her head down on him. She moaned, loudly this time, and then both his hands were in her hair, holding her in place. She braced her hands against either side of the dresser, taking shaky breaths through her nose.

When the door to the library banged shut, he let go of her. She all but spit him out, pushing at his knees and forcing him backwards. She quickly climbed to her feet and glared down at him, but he just grinned up at her.

“Goddamn, Tate, you weren't fucking around. You do that like it's your job,” Jameson laughed, sounding proud of her. She put her hands on her hips.

“You cheated!” she snapped at him. He ignored her and climbed to his feet, tucking his hard on back in to his pants.

“It wasn't ever actually your job, was it? Walking tours with a happy ending?” he joked.

“You cheated. You made him leave. I had you, and you cheated,” Tate repeated herself. He stepped up close to her.

“I said you had to do it before he left the room. I didn't say when or how that was going to happen. Should've worked harder for it,” he told her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she growled. He ran a finger down her cheek.

“Think of how much better it will be when I'm an active participant,” he said. She shook her head.

“You'll be lucky if there ever is a next time,” she spat out.

“So let's see. How does ..., one-thousand, five hundred a week sound,” Jameson said it out loud, but sounded more like he was talking to himself as he reached around her, sifting through some papers.

“Oh no. The price just went up to four thousand,” Tate informed him. He laughed, long and loud.

“Now that's a fucking joke. I wouldn't give you four thousand dollars a week if you needed it for a kidney transplant. You suck cock like a champion, but no mouth is worth four thousand,” he laughed at her. Tate got so close, her chest was brushing against his own.

“My mouth is. You can agree, or I can walk out the door,” she told him, her voice low and angry.

It wasn't about the money. Tate would be there even if he hadn't offered to pay. It was about winning. Beating him at his own game. Getting him to admit that she was an equal, that she could turn him inside out, the same way he did to her.

“You're not going anywhere, baby girl. We have unfinished business.”

Baby girl.

“That's not my fault,” she replied.

“Seems to me it is; if you were better at your job,” Jameson said. She laughed.

“Doesn't matter how good I am, if what I have to work with, doesn't work right,” she taunted.

His hand was in her hair in a second, pulling at the base of her skull. She was yanked forward and was completely flush against him, her chin almost resting on his clavicle. His other hand went to her waist, his fingers hooking in to her dress and her flesh. Her hands flew to his chest, to brace herself.

“You better watch what you say to me,” he warned her in a soft voice. She chuckled, her eyes watering a little from the sting of her hair being pulled.

“Or what, Kane?” she pushed him. His lips tilted up in a soft, sly smile.

“You're so fucking stupid, Tate. You still think we're playing a game. Stupid bitch. What did I say about calling me Kane? You've said it thirteen times. I said I would punish you,” Jameson threatened.