Python(92)

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” I growl and I grab the back of her head and push her further down on me, wanting all of my cock to feel the heat of her mouth. “Suck it. Suck it hard. You like it, don’t you? You like me treating you like a slut.” She nods her head, her mouth stretched wide around my cock, her moans getting louder by the moment.

I can feel it begin to gather, the tingling throughout my body. I’m gonna blow, and I’m gonna blow hard. Will she be able to suck it all down? Probably not, but I’ll test her anyway.

Then I can’t hold back anymore and I push my hips up into her mouth and I’m shooting ropes of cum out of my cock and it feels so fucking good—even better than last night.

She’s swallowing and licking and swallowing and licking, cum dripping off her chin and onto my stomach but she’s still valiantly trying to catch it all.

Finally, I collapse onto the bed, finished, and she grins at me, a Cheshire grin and says, “So, Mr. Boss Man, how did I do?”

“I suppose I’ll forgive you for still being here this morning,” I say expansively and then wink.

Yes, wink. Who is this guy and where did he come from? I don’t wink at the girls I fuck, and I don’t sleep with the girls I fuck.

Except for girls named Ashley Miller, I guess.

“So how does a girl like me get food in a joint like this?” she asks, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her shaved pussy exposed and visible for me to leer over. She seems to have no inhibitions, which makes me think about what I can try the next time I get her prone in my bed. Or in the shower. Or the hot tub. Or the kitchen…

I feel my cock harden and I pull the sheets over to cover up the evidence. With this buyout still in transition, I have a lot of work to do today, and I can’t fuck Ashley again, no matter how much my cock wants it.

Ash, watching my movements, knows exactly what I’m doing. She grins at me. “Hey, horn dog, you haven’t told me yet how to get some food to eat.”

“Pick up the phone and dial 9. My assistant will answer. You can order whatever you want and it’ll be delivered to the front door.”

“Niiicccceeee…” Ashley breathes out, and then crawls over to the phone, her ass high in the air. She gives it an extra twitch and then looks at me over her shoulder, tossing me a naughty grin.

But I cut off my responding smile. I can’t. Not this morning. I have shit to do.

I head to the shower. It’s time to get my game face on.





41





Ashley





The ride to work is weirdly quiet. I mean, this morning has been a little weird, but the blowjob did the trick. We are back to just being fuck buddies.

Or whatever the hell it is that we are. We haven’t exactly had a discussion about the status of our relationship, for fuck’s sake. I’m happy with where we are, and even if it weirded me out to find myself in Apollo’s bed this morning—I’m sorry, I cannot call him Mr. Kane, not after what we did last night—I got over it. A nice round of sucking cock will do that to me.

But now…he’s in his power suit and I’m in a totally new set of clothes myself, down to the sexiest pair of red lace panties and bra I’ve ever laid eyes on, and there’s this…gap between us. In his house, we can fuck and laugh and we’re equal.

At work, though, we’re not. He’s my boss and I’m his employee and he’s busy trying to fire me.

Or not. I didn’t ask him last night or this morning. I just didn’t want to. We were so happy, in our little bubble, you know?

But that bubble is burst, and I’m covered in the soapy residue.

The limo pulls up to the curb and I scramble out, not waiting for the driver or Apollo to help me out. I am my own woman. I can get out of the vehicle without help…

No matter how nice that help is.

I push that thought away and hurry in the front doors. Maybe if I put enough distance between Apollo and myself, no one will notice how I got to work.

Natalie rushes over, ten minutes early to work. Of fucking course. The worst joke someone could play on Natalie would be to delete her complex set of alarms and calendar notifications that rule her world.

“You…him…you spent the night?” she hisses.

I ignore her question. “What’s going on?” I ask, looking around the open room. It doesn’t look like anyone is working this morning anymore than they were working yesterday morning. Two days of non-productivity is…not a good thing.

At this rate, we’re not going to have a magazine to put out this month, no matter what Apollo and the board decides to do.

“C’mon, everyone else is over here,” she says, and tugs on my hand. I follow her to the group of staff writers, all milling around together, gossiping.