I further kneaded his balls—correction, his big balls, allowing my fingers to tantalizing his perineum. My eyes fluttered intermittingly, glancing up into his dreamy eyes that were fixated on me, as I inhaled. The gaze in his eyes was hypnotic, diffusing passion through my veins that course heat into the apex of my wet sex. I twisted my mouth around his cock up and down stimulating his sensitive shaft. His body shuddered beneath my touch, fisting his fingers into my silken hair. This was his last and only attempt, whereas, signaling me he was nearing ecstasy.
There was no way I would let up, pushing him deeper into my salivating mouth. I wanted to give him the best blowjob he had ever experienced. His breath panted, rapidly. The sound of his voice, his moans, and his pulse vibrated wildly, matching the throbbing sensation, riveting to the core of my pink love tunnel. I sped up my movements, my head bobbed up and down as I fucked his ever-expanding dick with my mouth. I pulled his cock out of my mouth, and begged him to come inside. His Steely muscle vibrated in my palm. I took a couple deep breaths, opening my lips and ravaged him down to the core.
Within seconds he exploded like a geyser; his sweet seeds shot to the back of my throat. I fervently licked the aftermath that oozed from the corners of my lips. Oh, he tasted so edible, like a candied apple. An Apple? I questioned myself. I swallowed hard, cheeks flushed, certain that I had pleased him to the fullest. A job well done.
His body went languid, yet his manhood stood erect and hard within seconds, again. He had a zero refractory period. This man had the libido of a stealth jet and I knew just where he could land. He could be a perpetual fucking machine if he wanted to be. My insatiable appetite wanted to suck on him forever. Instead, he reached down and pulled me up onto his lap, our stares were intense. I felt heat scattering to my weighted limbs. His long fingers sensuously caressed my warm cheeks; he then tilted my chin upward. Our breath met first then he passionately leaned nearer to kiss me. I closed my eyes. No, in reality, I closed my eyes, and cooed out loud.
“Are you okay, Miss Ridame?” Suddenly, a shadow crossed over my closed eyelids. It was Mr. Maximillion, waving his long hand in front of my face.
I cringed inside, certainly flushing from the heat all over. My fingers knotted in my lap. I blinked twice, clearing away the erotic vision. How do you recover quickly from giving the best fantasy blowjob to a mogul? If he only knew, where I was a moment ago, he would be enjoying this interview much more.
My core fluttered from little waves of warm sensations. Hormonal overload. The aftershocks lingered from my deep throat debut. Linda Lovelace would be proud of my performance. I heard they were doing a remake, perhaps, I will audition—but only if Mr. Maximillion was my leading man.
I flashed down at my thighs, mentally holding my breath, I dreaded that the moisture from my mouni had dripped passed my short hemline. I was mortified when I saw evidence of female nectar streaming down my legs. I clasped my calves together trying to dissolve the moisture. Damn… I grabbed a pillow and tried to camouflage my drippings. God, I prayed it didn’t seep onto his sofa.
“Oh yes, I was contemplating your question—and I agree.” Then I bit the inside of my cheek, having no idea what I had agreed too.
“Do you need a tissue I see—” He was staring at my legs. I desperately tired to wrap them beneath the bolster of the sofa. What a mess I must have looked like.
“No, it’s just water—water from—” I tossed my head looking fanatically around for my ice water. Shit it’s in the waiting room. I could feel the skin on my face melting with embarrassment.
He handled me a tissue, anyway. “It’s kind of hot in here isn’t it?”
“Hot, as hell,” I hoarsely blurted out. “So, you were saying.” I said, changing the subject.
“So if you find a husband on my show—will you keep modeling or take on the duties of a business man’s wife? Which can be quite different from marrying a nine to five working man.” He nodded, solidifying his male-chauvinistic ideologies. “Most multimillionaires expect their wives to be at their beckon call, or well, he may pay another pretty woman on the sly to satisfy his needs.”
Hum, what if the millionaire is the wife? Asshole. “Hum, as for your question, it sounds like a trick question. First you say a woman should keep her own identity… then you say that being married to a multimillionaire is her job. Are you kidding me?” My eyes beamed in on his. “I am not going to marry a man that I have to submit too.” I hissed. “I am the prize here.” I bit my tongue.
Mr. Maximillion furrowed his forehead, and nodded despondently. His smile fell into a tight straight-line. He didn’t seem too pleased with my reply. I am not sure why I was feeling so emotional about his questions. It wasn’t like I was going to be on the show anyway. I almost forgot I was only filling in for Bleu-Rae. I knew I would have to restrain my views, opinions and reframe from talking-with-out thinking first. A tongue like mine can get me into big trouble. I had to think like my sister.
“Life is a conundrum for sure—you never know what you will do for a love interest, until you are faced with the choices or ultimatums,” he said, with a crooked smile. Was he conceding to me? I had not expected this in the least.
“Well, isn’t that the truth.” I agreed. No need to be combative… at this point. I would save my ammunition, in case he brought out his big steel gun.
“Truth. There’s a word.” His gray eyes narrowed, surely contemplating.
I smoothed a stray lock of hair behind my right ear. “I am ready when you are,” I replied. I felt the heat in my cheeks rise and I pulled myself up in attempt to look taller and intimidating.
“Just a few more general questions… if you don’t mind my trick questions that is?” he asked, beaming a deadpan stare.
Was he teasing me again, or mad? I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. Keeping in mind this was all for Bleu-Rae. I didn’t give a flying fuck about being on his show. I wondered why the fuck I allowed him to intimated me to the core? I will probably never see this man again after today. This saddened me in a strange way. There was something about him that moved me; apart from his bulging package that I lusted for, there was more of him I wanted to put my fingers on. Something dark, mysterious, and penetrating dwelled in him. This had definitely caught my undivided attention.
I contemplated for a moment telling him that I was not Bleu-Rae. That my coming here to interview for the show was just a charade, trumped up by my sister, because she was sick of course. Perhaps, he would understand. He may like the idea I momentarily contemplated for the show. He could have us both. Twins would certainly boost his ratings. Two-for-one. Just when I was ready to come clean, I recoiled from idea, forgoing the truth. Surely, this would probably enrage him. The truth would blow everything for Rae. Besides, I didn’t want to be on the show, nor did I want a husband—I inwardly admitted I just wanted to spend more time with Mr. Maximillion. So I choked on telling him the truth.
“Okay…” I muffled quietly and bit my lower lip, so hard that I felt blood in my mouth. I swallowed hard, hoping this would do the trick.
“Is that blood at the corners of your mouth?” He asked. I nodded my head, no. “Such a healthy shade of red.” I slowly licked my bottom lip. He reached over and dabbed my lips with a tissue, his eyes widened oddly. “Does it hurt?”