Chapter 31
chapter thirty-one
Denali
"Wow."
Wow is an understatement. Wow doesn't begin to describe the little cabin we're up in this weekend in anticipation of the award show tomorrow.
The damn thing has vaulted ceilings, they've gotta be at least fourteen feet tall. One wall is covered in windows—I think it might be a whole wall of window. I bet that's a bitch to heat in the winter.
It's a modest A-frame cabin on the outskirts of Khula City, by the Dread River.
The hardwood floors look brand new, the finish is all rustic but fresh, and every sitting surface in this place looks like it might be softer than a cloud.
There's an actual fireplace along one wall, and instructions on how to work it next to it on the wall.
Outside there was a shed with a bunch of logs stacked under it, meaning we'd stay well warm enough if it snowed while we were here.
It's not supposed to, but stranger things have happened.
"So, your bedroom is upstairs, the kitchenette is fully stocked with your requested foods, and there are fresh linens in the closet and bathroom, and on the bed.
The firestarter supplies are under the kitchen cabinet, and if you need anything, you can pick up the landline and dial out to anywhere.
311 goes to the front desk, though, and there's a night watchman on call who will answer and help if possible.
Don't hesitate to call us, if we can be of any service! "
The little resort staff member bounces out of the house, and we wait exactly thirty seconds, until we can hear the sound of her little golf cart start up and go down the gravel driveway, before we break into unbridled laughter.
And about ten seconds after we've had a good laugh over her eagerness, we fall on each other, hungry for the intimacy we've been slowly—well maybe not so slowly—exploring these past few days.
We've got tonight to ourselves, and then the show is tomorrow.
After that, there's one more day, but we have to check out before dinner and drive back home.
"Come on, prety girl. Come join me on the couch. There's no time to waste."
There really isn't.
I let him take my hand and lead me over, and then we're falling into a huge armchair, our laughter echoing around us.
His eyes flick down to my chest, spot the tops of my breasts popping out of the shirt, and quickly zip back up to my face, eagerness and pure lust in their depths. “I can't wait to put my lips on you,” he starts, but I don’t give him the opportunity to speak.
I grip his collar in my hand and yank him forward, pressing my lips to his in a desperate plea. I toe off the pumps I slipped into earlier while I run my hands up the inside of his lapels, fingers mapping out the defined but subtle muscles beneath his shirt.
“Mmmm,” I moan against his mouth, using my tongue to tease him a bit while praying he parts those plump lips of his. I want to taste him, want him to taste me. I need him right now, like I need air. With Kai, I'm desperate in ways I never was before now.
His hands find my hips, and he leans into it, his tongue lashing out to tangle with mine. He’s receptive, reactive, and I can’t help but let a little moan out as I nip at his lower lip, my own hands tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his breath coming out in soft panting gasps.
“We'll do that, too,” I reply, a little playful giggle slipping out of me before I can stop it. “I’ll do anything you want, as long as you keep me on the payroll.”
His eyes widen in shock: he's been making jokes about a little role play with the boss and the secretary, but I haven't been taking him seriously.
I figure now is as good a time as we're going to get.
And besides, I like to keep him on his toes, set him off his game.
It's the only way I get a leg up on him anymore.
"Oh, so we're playing that game, huh?"
I blush a little and look away. "Unless you don't want to . . . "
His lips spread in a feral grin. "Oh, I want to." His hands grip my ass, and I let out a little squeeal as he readjusts us so I'm in his lap, straddling him. "Now, where we we?"
I clear my throat and take on the best affectation of a desperate woman in need of her job. Which, technically, I am. "I'll do anything you want, sir," I simper, batting my lashes at him playfully.
“Anything?” he asks, and the first sliver of anticipation rolls through me.
There’s something in his voice that sets me on edge, something there that wasn’t there before.
Maybe it’s the challenge in his tone, or the anticipation, the eagerness in his eyes, but whatever it is, it gives me motivation to keep going.
“Anything,” I breathe, arching my back as I lean into him. “Why don’t you sit back in that chair and let me show you?”
He sprawls out in that chair, his whole body on display, and I can’t help but stare at him in wide-eyed appreciation.
Toned thighs encased in expensive trousers trail up to his waist, which is so perfectly tapered it should be a crime.
I can just barely see the faint outline of his chiseled abs beneath the stark white of his button-up shirt, hidden at the edges by a tailored jacket that drapes across his shoulders.
Most men don’t wear a suit jacket as well as he does–but good lord, the way his body fits inside this expensive fabric is downright criminal.
And now I’m about to slide off his lap and to my knees to blow the ever-loving fuck out of him.
I can’t wait.
The way he’s got me so wound up by his powerful presence alone is enough to make me wet, but if I needed more of an excuse, I need look no further than the sultry stare he’s shooting at me from beneath those hooded lids of his.
I feel like there should be shame running through me, entertaining this role play, but I can't be bothered to care.
The eagerness he'e meeting me with is enough of a reason to not stop.
As he spreads his legs, I slide to the floor, shoving my pumps out of the way as I position myself between his knees.
He’s staring right back at me, and I refuse to break eye contact, so the tension in the room is so thick you can cut it with a knife.
I’m salivating over the bulge between his thighs, the obvious erection prominently pressed against the seam of his pants.
Fuck, he is packing. It never gets old, no matter how many times I see him, fuck him, touch him. I bite my lip at the thought of all the ways he's put it to use so far, and all the ways we still have to explore each other. All the positions I'd like to try with him.
“Like what you see?” he teases, licking his bottom lip as my fingers tighten around his kneecaps. “It’s excited to see you again, too.”
“I can’t wait to get my lips around it,” I say, my hands trailing up his thighs. “But first, maybe you’d like—”
His smile turns into a dominant stare that has me quivering. He growls, one of his hands fisting in my hair—not too tightly, but hard enough to remind me who's boss. “What I need is for you to unzip these pants and show me how badly you want to keep this job.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. In seconds, my fingers are working at the top of his zipper, unfastening his belt first, yanking it out of the way as I double down and turn my attention to the zipper running the length of his cock.
Fuck, it’s so hard. I palm it, satisfied with the way he groans and his head falls back at my touch.
The second the zipper is all the way down, his cock springs free, and I can’t help but admire the veiny shaft, the perfectly curved mushroom head, the sheer length of it. It’s a masterpiece. And he isn’t even wearing underwear. Again.
I don’t have time to appreciate that, though, because in the next second, he’s guiding me toward it, and I’m opening my mouth and licking my lips in preparation for what’s about to come.
I eagerly lap up the bead of precum on the head of his dick and smile, savoring the salty tang of him as I take this dick as far down my throat as I can.
It's easy to almost forget to breathe, but I suck in a breath through my nostrils at the last second. He’s almost too big to fit in my mouth, but I don’t even care.
The tip of him tangles with my tonsils, and from the look on his face, he can feel it, too.
He’s moaning pleasantly, low and rumbly, and it’s sending tingles through me as I squirm on my knees.
I drag one of my hands down to my lap, hoping to alleviate the pressure in my core with a gentle brush of my hand, but it only serves to ratchet up my arousal.
I can feel the dampness through my panties, and soon enough, it’ll be staining my skirt.
I’ll have to get changed before we leave this place for dinner if I don’t get it out of the way, so I shift just slightly, which shoves his cock even further down my throat, and jerk my skirt up around my hips.
There. Problem solved.
Except now, the cool air is a tease, and I can feel it brushing against my pussy through the thin lace panties I’m wearing. I rub my thighs together as tears form in the corners of my eyes, gagging on his cock, the soft choking noises echoing slightly in the big, open space.
My left hand grips the base of his cock, and my right slips inside my panties, eager to play with myself while I play with him.
But just as I let a single finger slide between my wet folds, he reaches out and jerks my hand away, leaving me whining around his girth as that hand is brought to his lips and licked clean.
Fuck, that was hot.
“You don’t get to come until I say so,” he snaps, his eyes no less warm, but almost dangerous in their intensity.
He's affecting one of his TV show personas, playing a role.
And damn if he isn't good at it. “Be a good little slut and suck me until I bust. Then I might reward you with an orgasm for yourself.”
I can’t talk, my mouth is full of dick, but I can nod gently, bobbing on this shaft like I was born to do it. The floor is uncomfortable and I’m sure I’m getting rugburn through my stockings, but I have a job to do.
Slowly, I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, slipping it from my mouth, a thin trail of saliva dangling between his tip and my lips.
I hear him groan as he watches me, his fingers tightening in my hair, but I take my time, sloppily coating him with my spit, before I drag my hand up and down, jerking him as I lower my nose to the base of his cock and take one side of his sac in my mouth.
His reaction is everything I hoped for. His hips jerk, his breath catches in his throat, and he grunts with pleasure, his hand leaving my hair to grip the armrest tightly.
“Fuck, yeah, right there,” he mutters, gritting his teeth as I move from one side to the other.
A smile curls my lips as I let his balls pop free and work my way back up his cock, tonguing the shaft like a fucking popsicle.
When I get to the top, he’s humping the air, eager to be back inside my mouth, and I sigh with pleasure at the power I hold over him.
I have the ability to end his suffering, to bring him to the heights of pleasure with orgasmic bliss.
Or, I can tease him to the edge, and make him beg for it.
Not that this man would beg under any other circumstances. But for me, he begs without hesitation. It's amazing. A real power trip.
He knows how to get exactly what he wants, every time. But so do I.
So I inch closer, the feel of my thighs brushing against each other near unbearable in my heightened state of arousal, and swallow his cock down again, until my nose presses against his pubic bone.
“Shit, I’m gonna bust–”
I run the tip of my nails along the underside of his taint and he comes down my throat with a muffled shout, hot ropes of cum filling my mouth until some spills over.
I can’t keep up, swallowing around his length is damn near impossible, but I’m careful not to let any of it get on my skirt.
I can hide white on white, but there’s no hiding white on black.
My lips pop off his dick with an audible sound, and I leave him there, limp and sated, staring down at me in wonder and appreciation.
Just as I begin to rise from my knees, he’s on his feet, spinning me around and bending me over the arm of the chair, my skirt still up around my waist, wet and waiting and eager for him. For what I know is coming next.
“You’ve had your fun,” he snarls in my ear, bent over my back, his loins pressed against my ass, the flimsy barrier of my panties not doing much to hide me from him. “Now, I get to have mine.”