"What makes you think that I'm interested in your hard cock?" I continue swaying my hips in a coming and going motion, my pussy pressed tight against his crotch. He's breathing hard now, but he still has that defiant grin on his face.
"I know what you're thinking, Brittney … It's written all over your face," he says, and then leans in and whispers against my ear. "You want me to pin you against that wall, to push your thong down your legs and then … You want me to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
An almost too violent shiver goes up my spine as his words float inside my head. It's almost as if he could read my mind. Am I being this obvious?
"You're wrong about one thing," I whisper back, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. "If anything, I'd be the one fucking you like you've never been fucked before … " If he thinks I'm going to roll over and allow myself to be won over by his words, he's dead wrong. I know how to talk back-and besides, my words are not empty … I mean what I say.
"You talk a lot … I'm not sure if there's any weight behind your words."
There he goes again, almost as if I he can look straight into my head and read what I'm hiding there. As he speaks, there's a mischievous glint in his eyes; he's teasing me, trying to sink his own hooks into me.
"I always mean what I say... But, as much as you want to fuck me right now … And I know you do … This is just an audition," I purr, the movement of my hips contradicting the words in my lips. This is everything but an audition, my body seems to say.
I grin, satisfied at the raging desire I see burning in his eyes. He leans in, his parted lips going straight for one hard nipple, but I move fast, tangling my fingers in his hair, I grab him and force him to throw his head back.
"You have to behave," I tell him, my words like a moan as I start to furiously grind against him. "We're not alone, you know?"
"Fuck that," he breathes out, and tries to fight back against the hold I have on him. "I do what I want."
"Maybe … " I lean into him, my lips almost touching his. "But I'm the one in control here. Not you. This is my audition, remember?" I tell him, my words serving as a reminder to both of us. This is an audition, just an audition, I tell myself over and over again. My own thoughts sound like a lie, though-the way he looks at me, the way his parted lips seem to ache for a kiss … Oh, this is everything but a regular audition.
"Yes, it's your audition. And you're here to impress me," he continues to tease me, trying to make me lose all control. He's a dangerous man to fool around with, that much is certain; step too close to the fire, and you get burned for your troubles.
"Oh, you're telling me you're not impressed yet?" With both my hands on his shoulder, I push his shirt down his arms, and then run my fingertips over the firm contour of his pectorals. I slow down the movement of my hips, and lean back just enough for me to place my hand against his abdominal wall. His abs are like steel, their perfect outline like something out of a wild (and definitely very wet) dream. As my fingers slide down his abs, I finally reach his pants and grab at them. I lock eyes with them, and then pull as harshly as I can. All the buttons pop out at the same time, and I hear him exhale sharply.
"Maybe I'm impressed," he grins, placing both his hands on my ass. This time, I say nothing. "Maybe not."
"You men … Terrible liars, all of you." With that, I turn my hand and press hard against his cock. His chest starts rising and falling at a hurried pace, and I can almost see the struggle raging inside of him; he wants me, but he can do nothing about it … Not while there are people in the room, at least.
Stretching my fingers wide, I cup his balls, and I think that his cock becomes even harder than before. Overwhelmed by the urge to feel him, my skin on his, I let my hand go over his shaft again, and then I slide it under his boxer briefs. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this; maybe I'm going too far now … But what the hell; you win by taking risks, not by playing it safe. And this is exactly the kind of risk that I like to take.
Breathing hard, I curl my fingers around his thickness and start to move my hand in an up and down motion. While I stroke him, I lean into him, and with my lips against his ear, I let a barely audible moan tumble out of my lips. At the sound of my voice, I feel the pressure of his hands on my ass cheeks growing, and that just makes me stroke him harder and harder.
"You want to fuck me bad, don't you?" I whisper against his ear once more, and then gently nibble at it. I'm voicing my own cravings and desires, but as the words come out of my mouth, it all turns into a teasing spell. It's almost a shame that I'm on a mission; I don't come across men like Ethan often. No, let me rephrase that: I have never come across a man like him.
"Not as much as you want to fuck me," comes his reply, his words cutting across all the bullshit. "You can act, but you're not fooling me." I have no way of telling if he really sees through me, or if he's just bluffing. Either way, it doesn't matter; it's all part of an intricate dance, one where seduction and lust dictates the next move.
"What if I do? What if I want to push my thong to the side and let you fuck me … ? Right here, right now?"
"You talk a lot, Brittney," he almost growls, and hooks his fingers on the small string of my thong that laces my outer thigh. "You might think you're in control … But you have no fucking idea. If I wanted to have you, I would. Right here, in front of all these people … I don't give a fuck."
"Then why don't you, Ethan?" he pauses for a few seconds, and I even stop moving my hand. I know that everything hangs in this moment; if he really goes for it and decides to fuck me here, I might have blown the whole thing. I'm not sure how much he will care about me after fucking me on the first try. Men like him are quick to move on, and that's exactly what I don't want to happen … I need to worm myself into his life and this company long enough for me to see this job through. Whatever it takes.
"Because … " he seems to look for the right words, and then takes his hand to my face. He brushes two of his fingers against one cheek, and them grabs me by the hair. Yanking on it, he forces my head back and presses his lips against my neck. "You intrigue me. And I like intriguing women."
I gasp as he pulls on my hair, but inside, I'm sighing with relief. What would I do if he tried to fuck me? I'd have to keep playing him, and so I'd have to stop him and keep on teasing … The problem is, I'm not sure that I would've been able to do that.
"I told you before," I say, taking my hand from his boxer briefs. "You never met a woman like me." Moving fast, I clash one forearm against his and force him to let go of my hair; in the same flowing movement, I place both my hands on his hair and now it's my turn to pull. He throws his head back, exhaling in surprise, and I lean into him. Parting my lips, I let my tongue out and brush it against the crevice between his lips. I can feel his whole body tensing up, and there's even a slight movement in his neck, but I keep him in place. He wants to kiss me, and God, so do I, but I won't let it happen. Not now. A kiss has to be earned, and I'll make him work for it.
"That remains to be seen … " he tells me, looking me straight in the eye. He's dying for more of me; I can read it in his face. And, well … I'm also dying for more. Grabbing his hair by the root, I start to sway my hips violently, grinding against him as harshly as I can. My pussy is pressed tight against his hard cock, and even though there are still layers of fabric between the two of us; I don't let that stop me. Right now, I'm not doing this for him; I'm doing it for me.
I ride him as if we were fucking, and even though I'm just grinding against his thickness, I feel a coiled tension building up inside of me. Fierce and wild, it's still in its chains … But it won't take long to break free. I know I should keep my cool right now, but I can't stop myself. How could I say no to pleasure when it's breathing down my neck and whispering my name?
As the tension inside my muscles grows into a thunderstorm, I have to grit my teeth. Throwing my head back, I close my eyes and let pleasure wash all over me. My jaw is hurting, but I refuse to open my mouth; if I do it, I won't be able to stop myself from moaning or screaming. As fireworks go off inside my head, I do my best to hide it from everyone. Building up all the tension between Ethan and I is key, and I can't allow anyone to figure out how much I'm enjoying this. In a wicked way, the more I try to pretend my brain isn't frying right now, the more the fangs of pleasure bury themselves into my soul.