as nothing else in the whole fucking universe but us, the cum in her mouth dripping into mine as our tongues wrestle against one another. When she pulls back, there are a few drops of cum on my chin, making their way down my jawline; smiling, she scoops them up with the tip of her tongue.
“I’m not the only one in need of some cleaning up,” I whisper, my heart still beating as if a high voltage current was running through. With my hands on her waist, I turn her around and pull her into me; she doesn’t take long to realize what I intend to do and climbs on top of me, easing herself down on my mouth. Swaying her hips, she rubs her drenched pussy and inner thighs against my lips, cum dripping down from her folds and into my open mouth. I came so much that it’s dripped down in rivulets and I open my mouth as wide as I can, feeling my warm semen sliding from inside of her and down to my tongue.
We remain like that until her pussy is dry, my mouth brimming with cum. Only then does she roll to the side, looking at me with anxious eyes. I know what she fucking wants, and so I just go ahead and fucking do it. I swallow, the saltiness of my load fucking clawing at my throat on the way down.
Megan… This woman drives me fucking insane, that’s a fact. Everytime I’m with her is like fucking Christmas.
Throwing herself back on top of the mattress, she presses her body against mine. We say nothing for a long fucking while, simply staring at the ceiling as we hear our own ragged breathing, exhaustion lacing our bodies.
Then, hesitant, I feel her reaching for my hand. She grabs it, gently squeezing my fingers, and I squeeze back. We remain in silence, the long shadows in the room tumbling over our bodies as if they were trying to caress our naked skin.
You know, I’m the last person you’d be able to call a romantic. In fact, whenever I hear the word ‘romance’, I feel sick to my stomach. It’s just not my thing. But right now, being here with Megan, our bodies close together… It’s fucking perfect.
“You’re special, Megan…” I finally manage to say, the words coming out of my mouth as if I wanted to say them all along. “You’re really special… I’ve never felt like this before.” She responds by squeezing my hand harder and I smile absently, knowing that for once I did the right fucking thing.
I wanted to fuck her, to ravage her body as hard as humanly possible… But I held off. If that happens - when that happens - I want it to be special. I don’t want it to happen in the heat of the moment.
I want it to be… real.
Maya
The guy from legal is droning on and on and on, and I feel like I’m about to lose my mind. There’s a reason I’m no legal expert. I produce entertainment. I don’t give a fuck about the laws behind it.
Except that right now I kind of do. At least as far as they pertain to what I have in mind.
“Here you go, Maya,” he says, handing me a stack of papers that look like a contract and pointing out a section he’s highlighted. I scan it quickly, but it doesn’t make much sense.
“Translation?”
He nods. “Basically, it details out how the women and men are eliminated from the show and how the finale works. But there’s no clause about her choosing only one man in the end.”
He gives me a funny look, but I’m too relieved and excited to bother explaining.
“Thank you so much, Steve. You have no idea how happy this makes me. I owe you one.” I smile at him, and he grins back, his eyes wide behind his bottlecap glasses.
“Can I collect tonight?”
I nearly choke on my gum. “Excuse me?”
He laughs nervously, pushing his glasses up his nose and fiddling with the pens in his front pocket. “I just thought if you really wanted to show me your appreciation then maybe you’d go to dinner with me tonight.”
His face turns bright red as he says it, and I have to fight to keep the polite smile on my face and not roll my eyes. What is the deal with these guys? First, the camera guy wanted me to go out with him after the whole microphone and camera scheme when Tristan told me he cares about Megan. Now, Steve is asking me out too?
If these men I work with don’t cut this out, I don’t know what I’ll do. Other than stop asking for favors. I chuckle internally. Fat chance. This show is going to be my big break if I can pull off what I have in mind. And I’ll take any favors I can get along the way.
“Thanks, Steve,” I say, a bit too upbeat, “but I’m so swamped with the show right now. I just don’t have time.”
He looks disappointed, so I give him another smile. “Thank you again for helping me figure this out. You’re a really great guy.”
It doesn’t pep him up much, and he slinks out of my office, mumbling a you’re welcome or something under his breath.
I don’t have time to worry about Steve. I have a show to save, hopefully sparing a few hearts in the process.
Rising from my desk, papers firmly in hand, I stride down the hall, past Everett’s office, and on to the very end. The network president’s office. His secretary is sitting out front at her desk.
“I need to see the president,” I say, injecting my voice with confidence and importance with a hint of urgency.
The woman nods. “He’s in his office right now.” She holds up a finger as she picks up the phone and presses a button. After a moment, she speaks into the receiver and the next thing I know, she’s telling me to head on back.