Billionaire With a Twist: Part Two

I raised an eyebrow. “Got any others you’d care to show me?”


“Oh, I’ve shown them to you,” he drawled, and even though it was only his voice over a phone line, I blushed fire-engine red. “And you’ve shown me a few as well.”

I eyed the door, toying with an idea. I couldn’t hear anyone rushing my way with an urgent development…I rose swiftly and locked it. “Care to see if those powers work over the phone?”

I knew exactly the face he would be making right now, that slow-spreading sweet honey grin as he took in the meaning of my words. “I surely would.”

Having suggested it, I found myself suddenly shy. “You start.”

“I’ve been thinking about your legs,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Been thinking about that smooth pale skin, thinking about running my hands along it, right from the dip of your ankle on up, sliding my hands under your skirt, stroking those soft pale thighs.”

I squirmed in my chair. “I love your hands. They’re so big and strong. I press up against them, but you pin me down, and that makes me so ready for you.”

“What kind of underwear are you wearing?”

“Satin. Red satin.”

He groaned. His voice was strained. “Damn, Ally, keep talking.”

“Are you touching yourself right now, Hunter?” My hand slid beneath my waistband to stroke slowly over the thin fabric of my panties. “I’m touching myself right now, thinking about you thinking about my legs, rubbing yourself through your jeans, or maybe you’ve unzipped your pants and you’re tugging on that big beautiful cock, making it bigger and bigger, just for me, God, Hunter, I’m so wet just thinking about it.”

“Gonna fuck you so hard,” he grunted. “Fuck you till you’re screaming, begging for more. I’m so hard right now, it feels like my balls are going to explode. I wanna give it to you so good, give you everything you need.”

“Oh, yeah,” I moaned. “Oh yes. Tell me how you want to fuck me, Hunter. I’ll be so good for you, I promise. I’ll suck you so good, swirl my tongue around it, take it into the back of my throat.”

“I want to bend you over this desk,” he groaned, and I let my other hand trail up my side to unbutton my blouse, pinch my nipples, already stiff against the fabric of my brassiere. “See those long legs and that perky little ass jutting, see you wet and dripping for me, your tits bouncing in the mirror across from me, your pussy open and just begging me to fuck it.”

“Oh God, yes…” I panted.

His voice grew even more ragged. “Or maybe I’ll bend you over the hood of my Rolls and fuck you there till you’re screaming, just like you want me to, you’ll love it—”

“Oh God yes, yes, Hunter, oh God, I’m so close—” I let my hand dive under my panties, rubbing myself.

“Do you want me to make you come—” his voice deep and commanding, “so hard you’re seeing stars, so hard it’ll ruin you for any other man but me—”

“Oh God, Hunter, I only want yours, I only want you—” And then I was coming, my entire body seizing in a transport of pure sensation, my only thought yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Only you, Hunter.

Only ever you.

#

We’d said our goodbyes almost an hour ago, and yet I was still lounging in the library armchair in a blissfully post-coital haze when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I hastily rebuttoned my blouse and smoothed down my clothes, grabbing some hand sanitizer from my purse and squirting a generous dollop onto my palm as well. Did the whole room smell of our lust? God, I hoped I was only imagining that.

“Ally! How’s my favorite refugee from Mad Men Land?”

It was Martha, bearing gifts of coffee and a greasy pizza. I took them both from her gratefully.

“I’m bearing up, getting through it. Couldn’t do it without you, though.”

“Now, now, let’s not exaggerate,” Martha says. “Pizza Hut delivers, even all the way down here in the backwoods.”

“But would they also deliver my doctor-recommended dose of sass and backtalk?” I asked, taking a long draught of coffee and closing my eyes in bliss at the taste. Oooooh, that was almost as good as sex all by itself. “Plus, you know, you do lots of other stuff besides bring me caffeine and grease.”

“That’s right,” Martha said. “I also give you something to strive for by showing off the latest acquisitions to my ever-expanding man-harem.” She grinned, delighted and predatory. “Have I shown you pictures of the latest one? He’s an actual honest-to-God underwear model. I thought they were a myth!”

“Another time,” I said. “But seriously, Martha, you’ve been invaluable. Offering feedback on the designs, organizing the paperwork, making calls, fielding messages for me—you’re a lifesaver. Have you considered ever going into advertising?”