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Fuck, it’s not even a challenge with women like this.
I unraveled her kinks the second she opened her pouty bimbo lips.
See, right about now, Becka is thinking to herself that she’s going to prove to us what a bitch she can be. She’s going to try and draw attention to how fucking hot she thinks she is—not even realizing that I’ve fucked hotter women than her three times today already.
She thinks she’s going to get my temper going. Thinks she’s going to throw her fucking attitude around, and it’ll earn her the privilege of wrapping her mouth around my cock.
“The last five flavors you made me try tasted like garbage,” Becka says, licking her lips. “Unless you give me something actually fucking drinkable for once, I’m done.”
“Let her leave.” Chase leans in and turns his head away from her to talk in my ear. “She’s just being a cunt because that’s all she’s thinking with right now: her cunt. She’ll be back.”
Chase looks about as comfortable in a collared shirt as a nuclear warhead looks in the back of a pickup truck on a bumpy road. If he so much as flexes the wrong way, he’s going to rip right the fuck through the fabric. It would leave him in nothing but a collar and two shirt-cuffs like a fucking Chippendale dancer…not that Chase would mind that.
But when we’re playing CEO, we have to look the part. Luckily, I’m as comfortable in a tuxedo as I am in a pair of gym shorts. As for Chase, the sleeves cover up all his scary-ass jailhouse tattoos.
I value Chase’s opinion. He’s the other half of this operation, and usually his judgment is sound.
But today, I’m fed up with this bitch.
“It’s alright,” I tell him. “I want to see how this plays out.”
Chase drops back, and I move forward, running a thumb across the buckle of my belt.
“You want something tasty to drink. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Becka licks her lips again. I watch her fucking pupils dilate as she stares blatantly at my crotch.
Like I said: so transparent, you could read a book through her.
“Answer.”
“Mmmhmm,” Becka whines.
“Use your words.”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Mm. Totally.”
I flick my belt open, unzip my fly, and pull it out. 12 inches of man meat slaps down on the table so hard and heavy, I see the surface of the protein shake tremble.
If Becka’s eyes get any fucking wider, they’re going to pop right out of her blow-up doll head.
“You want
this fucking cock?” I ask.
I can hear the head of our research team, Linda, clear her throat behind me.
“Um, Mr. Hale—I don’t think that’s—”
“Not now, Linda,” I dismiss her. My fist wraps around my cock at the base, gripping it nice and tight. “I’m going to give Becka what she wants.”
“Yesssss,” Becka celebrates, leaning forward.
I stop her with ease, putting the heel of my hand on her forehead and pushing her back into her seat. Her slutty little tongue is still hanging out of her mouth in disappointment.
“Not so fast. You haven’t fucking earned this cock.”
I flex my thighs and my cock rises up in my fist of its own accord. I can feel the blood rushing to it, making it harder and thicker and longer with every passing second.
