Gambling For The Virgin:A Dark Billionaire Romance(124)

What? You don't get what I'm talking about?

"Well, ladies," Joel says and unbuttons his jeans. "This is where you  get to show us how much hands on experience you have, and how much  you're able to put it to use," he's got a shit-eating smile on his  fucking face and for some reason I want to punch the guy. But we don't  pay our directors that much-namely we give them a lot of fringe  benefits … like being able to fuck the girls who try out.

"I'm waiting," he says, and the girls get the message. Two of them, #25  and #27 look at each other and get off the couch, walking toward him,  giggling.

They get down on their hands and knees when they're a foot away and begin to crawl.

"Very good, girls," Joel coos, excited as to what's coming. "You too, #26, if you still want the job."

I watch as #25 and #27 begin to unzip Joel's jeans and pull out his  cock. He's tiny. Maybe about 6 inches, but he leans his head back and  sighs contentedly as one girl wraps her lips around his head and the  other uses her tongue to begin licking his shaft.

"#26, we're waiting," Joel says, but the girls are doing enough of a job  that he doesn't care. "Show me your most valuable  …  ability."

Fuck. I could've left and not had to see this. How did I know she would fucking wow him and make it to the finals.

And that's when I notice that #26 has gotten off the couch and is walking toward us.

Her eyes are full of passion and desire. Lust seems to be the only thing propelling her.

Joel closes his eyes and groans at the pleasurable feeling two mouths are bringing his cock.

And that's when I fucking notice that she's not going toward Joel.

She's walking to me.

With a luscious smile on her face.

Fuck.





94





Brittney





This is going to be easier than I thought.

Instead of focusing on what really matters, all the other women went for  the crude and easy approach. They don't seem to realize that sex isn't  about ... sex. There's more to it than that. It isn't about showing off  your naked body, or moaning as loudly as possible. Do you want to know  what the real secret is? The one thing that turns a hot woman into a  Goddess, and that drives men into madness? I'll tell you for free: it's  seduction ... The art of seduction is the key, and I'm an artist.

"Brittney  …  #26," the casting director reads my name from a sheet of a  paper, and I go up to my feet, a subtle smile on my face. Unlike the  others, I'm not wearing a raunchy outfit; instead of going for the  stripper shorts and dancer bra, I'm wearing a black tight fitting dress.  It hugs my curves perfectly, and as I get up from my seat and everyone  looks at me, I know I've made the right choice.

Both Ethan and the casting director-I believe his name is Joel?-lean  back in their seats, their eyes roaming over my body. Walking with a  slow but sure step, I walk past Ethan. I do my best to ignore him and  head straight for the director. I tuck one lock of hair behind my ear,  and then lean into him, my lips brushing against his ear as I speak. He  listens attentively, his eyes lost on my cleavage, and then nods.

"Thank you," I whisper as he gets up from his seat and dims the lights.  He says something to the intern on the corner, and after he taps the  keyboard on his laptop twice, the speakers mounted on the walls start to  fill the whole room with a steady beat. Lights, music, action-here I  go.

I walk straight to the center of the room, my back turned to Ethan, and I  place my hands on my hips. Swaying my hips to the mellow rhythm of the  music, I slide my hands down my legs as I bend over. I can almost feel  Ethan's eyes going over the curve of my ass as my dress hikes slightly  up my legs.

I turn on my heels, and as if I was walking along a thin rope, I go  straight toward him. I don't care about the casting director or anyone  else; Ethan is the one who matters here, and I only have one shot to  impress him. You can rest assured that I'm not going to waste my only  shot. Oh, no, I play for keeps-always.

Ethan leans back against his chair, his eyes locked on mine. I have his  attention, but I know it's not enough; a man like him is used to having  whoever he wants, and I'm more than sure that women throw themselves at  his feet every waking hour of the day. If I am to succeed, I have to be  better than that.

Running my tongue over my lips, I place my hands on his knees and I lean  in. Our mouths are so close that I can almost feel the air crackling  around us as electricity builds up. I pull back then, arching my back  and running my hands up his legs; my fingers are dangerously close to  his groin, but I don't dare to go any further. Good seduction isn't  about what you do; it's about what happens inside the other person's  head. The trick is controlling what happens there.

"Brittney, right?" he asks me, his smart eyes widening with hunger. This is a good start.

"Brittney," I tell him, leaning into him again. I look down at his lips,  and then up. "Don't worry, I have a feeling you'll remember my name  well enough."

"We'll see about that." His tone is a calm one, but I can feel all the  anxiety coiled underneath it. He can try and act aloof, but the grin on  his face tells me all that I need to know. I've thrown my bait and he is  already nibbling at it. Once he bites, all that's left is for me to  reel him onto shore.

My hands move over his crotch, and I hook my fingers on his belt. Biting  on my bottom lip, I start to unbuckle it, swaying my hips at a slow  tempo. Once the buckle is free, I pull the whole belt out from its  loops; in one fluid movement, I place it behind his head, and grabbing  both ends with my hands, I force him to lock eyes with me. Moving as if  he were in a trance, he places his hands on my legs, his fingertips  brushing against the hemline of my dress. As he motions to hike up my  dress, I pull the belt from around his neck and snap it against his arm.

"No," I say firmly, his eyes widening in surprise. He's not used to  having anyone take control, let alone a woman. Slowly, he takes his  hands off of me, a grin of defiance on his face. Show me what you got,  his eyes seem to dare me. Grinning back at him, I go around his chair,  and once I'm behind him, I lean in and place both my hands on his chest.  "You've never met a woman like me, Ethan," I whisper into his ear, my  fingertips tracing the contour of his hard pecs. Christ, what is he  hiding under his shirt-marble and steel?

"What makes you think that?" he says, that defiant grin still on his face.

"Trust me," I whisper into his ear again, my fingers sliding over to the  collar of his shirt. One by one, I undo the buttons on his shirt, his  chiseled chest coming into view. Yanking on the shirt, I bare his chest  and let my fingers brush over his skin; his muscles seem like hard ropes  of manliness, and something inside of me tells me to get a better view.  "I'm not like the others."         

     



 

I walk around the chair again, and stopping right in front of him, I let  my eyes wander over his naked torso. Not that I have a choice, as his  hard pectorals and chiseled abs demand all of my attention. I mean, he  has an 8-pack, for God's sake. It seems that he's part of that very  special breed of men; money and pussy simply isn't enough for them, and  they want perfection in everything they are and do. I can't wait to see  if the rest of his body matches what I'm seeing right now …

Focus, I need to focus. Taking one deep breath, I turn on my heels and  show him my back. I sway my hips gently and bring my hands up to my  shoulders; slowly, I push down the straps of my dress, and they fall  over my arms.

"Go on, I know you want to," I whisper at Ethan, looking at him over my  shoulder. As if my words were binding, he raises his hands and places  them right below my neck, his fingers grabbing at my zipper. Carefully,  he starts pulling it down my back, his knuckles brushing against my  naked skin as he goes. A shiver goes up my spine as I feel his touch,  and I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to regain my focus. I  can't fuck this up.

When he has pulled the zipper all the way down to my lower back, he  finally takes his hands off of me, and I push the drooping fabric of my  dress down to my waist. I keep on softly swaying my hips to the sensuous  tune, my back turned to him. I know how eager he must be to see me in  my bra, the curve of my breasts peering over the cups …  So I just make  him wait; I'm the one in control here, after all.

My eyes are closed, but I feel the whole room fading away around me. As  far as I'm concerned, only Ethan and I are here right now. The other  women, the casting director, the interns …  As far as I'm concerned, they  don't even exist in the same universe as Ethan and I.

I throw my head back, my hair cascading down my shoulders as I move, and  then I slide my hands up the side of my body. Hooking my fingers on the  clasp of my bra, I pull it free and let the straps fall down my arms.  As the cups start to droop, I throw the whole thing to the floor and  place both my hands over my breasts, squeezing gently with my fingers.  Everyone can see what I'm doing, except for Ethan, and that's exactly  how I want it. He's the one I want to tease and torture, and I'm putting  up this show for him only.