BILLIONAIRE (Part 3)
Lila
“I’m having some friends over tonight. For a poker game. We meet up every couple of months. Do you want to play?” Alexander asked me, his silky tone kick-starting some kind of sweet churn inside me, like he was already there, touching me with his echo and his promise.
“I’m not much of a gambler,” I said , drying my wet hair with a towel. “I’ll watch. I’ll get your drinks for you.” I’ll watch you, I thought to myself. I wanted to be near him, to sit next to him and watch his strong hands and his remarkable face as he played cards with his friends.
“You don’t need to be my waitress, Lila. I’ll tea ch you how to play if you want me to.”
“Alexander, I’m your assistant . I can serve a few drinks to you and your friends.”
It unnerved me a little, that I was getting so outrageously turned on just from the sound of his voice and the nearness of his big, sculpted body. I felt like rubbing myself against him. I wanted to hold him down and lick his skin. To bite him and eat him alive. To offer my warm, flowering pussy to his mouth. And he wasn’t even looking at me. His back was to me and he was opening a drawer in his dresser. “I have something for you,” he said.
I walked over to where he was sitting on the bed, with only a towel wrapped around his hips. His black hair fell over his forehead in shiny ribbons. The color of his skin was like cinnamon.
I was naked and still wet from our shared shower. As I thought about the time that had passed since my job interview, I realized it must be Saturday afternoon. My interview had been on Thursday. It hardly seemed possible that I had undergone such a profound change in such a short amount of time.
We had showered together, but Alexander had not made love to me since this morning. He had soaped me and washed my hair, but he had made no move on me, as yet.
M y body, as I drew closer to him, began to come alive. There was a hint of soreness between my legs from the punishing pace we’d been keeping, but it didn’t stop me from wanting more. I let my fingers trace along the hard surface of his shoulder. I felt young and nubile, slim yet utterly womanly. My breasts were high and round, my nipples contracting into flushed tightness. From my knees to my navel my body felt hot and molten. “What is it?”
In his hands he held two silver balls c onnected by a short white cord. They were slightly smaller than golf balls, and smooth. He placed them in one of my hands. “Keep them in your hand so they get nice and warm. I’m going to get you very, very wet. But I’m not going to let you come. I’m going to put these inside you. As you walk around, as you move, they’ll rub against a most sensitive place inside you. You’ll be on the verge of coming all evening. You’ll be so aroused that just one, single touch will set you off. It’ll be deliciously torturous for you. You don’t mind a little torture, do you, Lila?”
His long eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheekbones in the ambient lighting of his palatial bedroom. He was looking at my nipples, which grew painfully tight under his appreciation. He touched one with a single fingertip, drawing a light, rotating circle. I couldn’t help it. I had to kiss him. His lips were too perfect, too rounded and soft and delectable-looking. They were making my mouth water. I slid my hands around his neck and raised his face to look at me. His obsidian eyes were playfully wicked. I leaned down to kiss him, gently bit his lower lip, drawing it into my mouth, licking his lips like they were sugar-coated.
“I’m alread y wet,” I admitted, whispering. “For you.”
“And later,” he said, half-smiling at my comment. “I will do much more than touch you, sweet. I’ll do everything you beg me to do.” He already knew I was wet. His fingers were there, kneading
Lila
“I’m having some friends over tonight. For a poker game. We meet up every couple of months. Do you want to play?” Alexander asked me, his silky tone kick-starting some kind of sweet churn inside me, like he was already there, touching me with his echo and his promise.
“I’m not much of a gambler,” I said , drying my wet hair with a towel. “I’ll watch. I’ll get your drinks for you.” I’ll watch you, I thought to myself. I wanted to be near him, to sit next to him and watch his strong hands and his remarkable face as he played cards with his friends.
“You don’t need to be my waitress, Lila. I’ll tea ch you how to play if you want me to.”
“Alexander, I’m your assistant . I can serve a few drinks to you and your friends.”
It unnerved me a little, that I was getting so outrageously turned on just from the sound of his voice and the nearness of his big, sculpted body. I felt like rubbing myself against him. I wanted to hold him down and lick his skin. To bite him and eat him alive. To offer my warm, flowering pussy to his mouth. And he wasn’t even looking at me. His back was to me and he was opening a drawer in his dresser. “I have something for you,” he said.
I walked over to where he was sitting on the bed, with only a towel wrapped around his hips. His black hair fell over his forehead in shiny ribbons. The color of his skin was like cinnamon.
I was naked and still wet from our shared shower. As I thought about the time that had passed since my job interview, I realized it must be Saturday afternoon. My interview had been on Thursday. It hardly seemed possible that I had undergone such a profound change in such a short amount of time.
We had showered together, but Alexander had not made love to me since this morning. He had soaped me and washed my hair, but he had made no move on me, as yet.
M y body, as I drew closer to him, began to come alive. There was a hint of soreness between my legs from the punishing pace we’d been keeping, but it didn’t stop me from wanting more. I let my fingers trace along the hard surface of his shoulder. I felt young and nubile, slim yet utterly womanly. My breasts were high and round, my nipples contracting into flushed tightness. From my knees to my navel my body felt hot and molten. “What is it?”
In his hands he held two silver balls c onnected by a short white cord. They were slightly smaller than golf balls, and smooth. He placed them in one of my hands. “Keep them in your hand so they get nice and warm. I’m going to get you very, very wet. But I’m not going to let you come. I’m going to put these inside you. As you walk around, as you move, they’ll rub against a most sensitive place inside you. You’ll be on the verge of coming all evening. You’ll be so aroused that just one, single touch will set you off. It’ll be deliciously torturous for you. You don’t mind a little torture, do you, Lila?”
His long eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheekbones in the ambient lighting of his palatial bedroom. He was looking at my nipples, which grew painfully tight under his appreciation. He touched one with a single fingertip, drawing a light, rotating circle. I couldn’t help it. I had to kiss him. His lips were too perfect, too rounded and soft and delectable-looking. They were making my mouth water. I slid my hands around his neck and raised his face to look at me. His obsidian eyes were playfully wicked. I leaned down to kiss him, gently bit his lower lip, drawing it into my mouth, licking his lips like they were sugar-coated.
“I’m alread y wet,” I admitted, whispering. “For you.”
“And later,” he said, half-smiling at my comment. “I will do much more than touch you, sweet. I’ll do everything you beg me to do.” He already knew I was wet. His fingers were there, kneading
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