Chapter 15 #2
“Seems you have a lot of experience, especially considering your close relationship with the owner. I wondered if you could tell me a bit about the exclusivity of the club. Its high fees and contracts make it quite difficult when researching if it’s the right club for someone looking to join.”
His gaze drops to my mouth and stays there as he clears his throat before answering.
“I guess you could say I’m experienced. The club itself is like many others.
Burt really cares about inclusivity and privacy.
All information on what goes on inside the club is available to anyone who emails asking.
We aren’t hiding anything; our priority is to protect our clients.
“Well, good to know. But I want to know more about the members. Are they all honey bears like you?” I flirt back, my foot reaching over to caress his calf because I can’t help myself.
I’ve been called bratty before, but Simmons has this air about him that makes me mischievous.
He leans closer, his enormous paw of a hand coming down to my bare leg now, which he catches then squeezes while his eyes stay on mine.
I tug at my leg to get it back in a noncommittal way, which makes him tighten his grasp. Oh, he likes to play too.
He leans closer…
“Maybe you could come check it out for yourself; I’m sure your fans would love a tour of the inside,” his gruff voice tells me.
I miss the feel of his hand as soon as he lets go of my leg to stand.
I gape in confusion as he makes his way to the door, and I wonder how I fucked this up and at which point I was too much for him, but he just turns and raises a questioning eyebrow to me then to the lock on the door.
Oh, fuckety fuck yes. Eager as ever, I agree.
Lock in place, he comes back and takes his seat, sliding it closer to me this time.
“Good idea,” I say almost breathlessly. I’m close to crawling onto his lap to give him what he obviously wants. Me riding him is my assumption.
“Any other questions for me, Scot?” he challenges, a small smile on his biteable lips. His entire way of being now screams Dom, and I don’t know how I missed it before. Jesus, take me now, I need him so badly.
“Uh, no. I think that was it. We don’t have to do a sign off, I’ll just use the recording to transcribe the interview.
” The camera light blinks between us. Still recording.
Still watching. Simmons leans forward, then stops - close enough that I can feel his breath.
But just when I think he’s finally going to take me to horny heaven, he speaks.
“Is this still work?” he asks in that low growl. Shaking my head, I feel his knuckles lightly brushing my leg as his chair comes even closer to mine.
“Thank fuck,” he growls as he lunges from his seat towards me. Grabbing me with one hand going to the back of my neck and the other around my waist, he thrusts himself into my space, his lips smacking into mine before I’ve had time to switch off the camera.
Is this evidence? Wait, evidence of what? Something sexy? It’s my recording. Pushing that nonsense aside, I go back to the feel of Simmons’ hot tongue as it enters my mouth, rough and commanding, desperate and it’s fucking huge.
We moan as our teeth clash, a fight for dominance with our tongues despite my usual want for submission. I grab onto his forearms; the hair is so thick it pushes through the tiny holes in the mesh.
My whole body sizzles at the contact. We are panting, grinding, when he lifts me onto the conference table without breaking the kiss.
Simmons chuckles into my mouth when I let out a squeak, and the kiss slows to a much more intimate one, which has me shivering all over.
I’ve kissed a couple of guys back when I was away at catering college, but it was never like this.
This is on another level, and I now understand why some people claim that kissing alone is enough to make them cum.
My fingers grasp his hair, and his hand dives under my kilt to grab my arse roughly.
His huge paws pull my cheeks apart and roll the flesh there; this is another first for me.
My legs are now around his waist to give him better access, and just when I’m about to melt into a puddle of cum, he pulls back.
Hovering over the top of me, he grinds his hips to watch my reaction.
Tilting my hips, I groan as they make contact with his arousal.
Fuck, he’s big. His eyes are boring into mine, a reflection of amber flecked with brown and lust.
“Can I make you cum?” he grunts as his hips roll against me once more. What a tease, his grinding is snail’s pace slow and my hips move out of sync and way faster than his, which has him giving me one of those low, Dom chuckles again.
“Fuck. Y-yeah. Touch me, I want you to touch my cock,” I pant as he moves his hands from my flesh and helps lower me until my back hits the table.
I’m almost trembling when his meaty hands run up my thighs.
I hump the air like a whore as I wait for him to make contact with my cock.
The first hands I’ve allowed bar my own on it, and even that’s a stretch considering I usually enjoy my cage on most days.
“Oh god, Simmons, good fuck,” I cry out as his bear paw clutches my cock, and it’s over before it even started.
His grip is hot and tight; two strokes and I’m in heaven.
I’m not even sure he got a look at my cock as his hand was up my kilt, but I’m not even embarrassed.
I’m just dreading getting the cum out of my kilt later.
Opening my eyes, I see Simmons above me, panting and looking like an animal that’s still not satisfied.
Red-faced with lust, I want to return the favour for him so badly.
“Let me see you later. I’m staying at the Regency, room 1424. I can’t have you just the once, please?”
With my cock going soft in his hand, I nod, still dazed from the orgasm.
As he stands, satisfied with my answer to meet later, he adjusts himself before offering me some tissues to clean myself up.
I take his hand to get off the table and onto my wobbling knees, then he’s pulling me in for another fierce kiss, and I return it.
Fuck, there’s something about him. I want to push all his buttons, make him force me into punishment, then fuck me all night long.
Maybe he could be the first Dom I’ve been looking for.
He seems nice enough and experienced, and, oh yeah, exactly my type.
Turning from his mouth, I come face to face with the red dot of the camera.
It’s still recording, oops. I’ll just delete that later. Once I’ve wanked off to it, of course.
I break the kiss, looking up at him. He smiles, so I do too; then we laugh. It’s not awkward, just nice.
“I have to go, but I’ll see you later? 8pm okay?
” he asks again, looking a little sheepish.
I take my hand and place it on his cock that’s covered in those tight leather pants, and he groans but doesn’t act on it.
He must like the buildup because my cock is rearing its head to see if there’s another round up for grabs.
“Yeah, big bear, see you later,” I grin like an idiot as I watch him adjust himself then head to the exit. He turns just as the door unlocks and a waft of cold air comes into the sex-scented meeting room.
“Wear those gloves later, I want to see them on my cock,” he confesses and then, with a chuckle reminiscent of a naughty schoolboy, he’s out of the room and off down the hall.
“Fuuuuuuck me,” I say on an exhale as I try to piece together what the fuck just happened.
Could things be looking up? I don’t want to get my hopes up, but Simmons seemed genuine, and who knows, a man with a membership to Nyctra must live in the same city, which meant he lived in the same city as me.
Maybe I’d be seeing more of my honey bear. I could and would dream.
The intensity of just a hand job from him only confirms for me my original theory on if I had gone to work with Benji back in 2020, I could not stop myself catching feelings. Not when men like Simmons exist.