The Billionaire's CamGirl

With my mouth on his, I ask, “For what?”

“For being you,” he says. I feel his lips quirk up, and I smile in return. Finally, the elevator comes to stop, and we pull apart to walk down the hallway to his room. My body is humming, a whir of energy as I imagine what awaits me once we’re inside his room. The other night at the club, in the alley, was amazing, but now we’ll be able to take our time, and the idea of exploring his body, touching him, seeing him, tasting him, it overwhelms me.

Chris slides the key card into the door, the green light flashes, and he opens it for me, placing his hand on my hip and moving me forward. I step into the room ahead of him and into darkness, all I can see are the large windows, looking out on the city ten stories below. The view is breathtaking, and I’m drawn to the window to take in the full effect, leaving Chris behind as he takes off his jacket. The trees in Central Park are bare, so I can see all the way uptown. The Guggenheim Museum is lit up in the distance, and red taillights zigzag across the park. Below on Central Park South I see a couple climb into a handsome cab. I’m following the old horse with my eyes when I feel Chris walk up behind me. He brushes my hair aside and trails his fingertips up and down my neck. His mouth ghosts along my ear, but it’s his fingers that bring my body alive. Featherlight touches that send electricity traveling across my skin. He moves his lips to the nape of my neck, and his breath raises the small hairs there. His fingers tickle around my neck and onto my chest, tracing around the coral pendent. He lays his hand flat against my chest and whispers into my ear, “I’m going to take my time with you. You’re going to spend the night.” It’s not a question, but I nod in agreement, completely incapable of speaking.

I feel his other hand traveling around my waist, his fingers searching for the zipper, I think. Then I hear the slow purr as it inches down, and my skirt falls in a puddle around my feet. He travels down my body, his hands sending sparks across my skin as they skate across my sheer tights. He lifts an ankle, and then the other, so he can toss the skirt onto a chair beside us.

“You forgot your panties, Weaver,” he says, discovering me naked beneath my tights.

“I didn’t forget,” I reply. “I remembered you have a pair.”

My eyes find that carriage again in Central Park, and I see it’s coming back to the handsome cab stand. How long have I been standing here? I’ve lost track.

“Turn around,” he says. I turn hesitantly, self-conscious in just my tights and sweater. The sweater’s shape covers my hips at the side, but in front, it sits just above my bellybutton, leaving my bare pussy exposed. I imagine it’s not the sexist look, but from the hunger in Chris’s eyes, I immediately realize I’m wrong. He presses his open hand against me, his palm applying pressure to my pussy, and I can feel myself pulsing against him. He uses those magic fingers again to trace up and down my seam, and his fingers against the nylon on my skin feel like tiny bubbles, growing bigger and bigger until they pop, sending pleasure spiraling through my body. He continues playing like this, and I spread my legs wider, wanting more contact, a harder touch. I lean back into the window and the cold glass against my ass shocks me and reminds me I’m on display for the city below. But before I can suggest we move over to the bed, Chris hikes up my leg, resting my foot on the window’s ledge. I feel his finger, moving over me, and then I feel the fullness of his finger stretching the nylon, inching inside me. The friction from my tights over his finger is thrilling, and my toes curl as he pumps inside me.

“You’ve soaked through these tights,” he says huskily. He pulses his finger slowly inside me, and then he takes it out, dragging up, and skirting around my clit, swollen and straining under my tights. He surprises me then, and drops to his knees, pressing his lips against me and moaning with appreciation. “Fuuuck Weaver, you smell so good.” Sparks fly through me as I feel his tongue rasping over me, and both of my hands fly to his head, trying to hold steady, trying to keep his head exactly there. I’m abandoning any restraint now, moaning as he leaves a trail of heat over my pussy. The city behind me can watch, I don’t care. I need his mouth closer, his tongue faster. He’s winding me tighter and tighter and I have only one objective, to come.