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She stiffens. I’m sure she’s going to spit it out, but instead, she swallows. Every. Last. Drop. Fuck, if her acquiescence isn’t the most erotic thing I’ve experienced.
"Want more?" I murmur.
Again, she nods without hesitation, and my cock stabs against my zipper. Once again, I take a sip of water, then place my mouth over hers. I allow the water to seep onto her tongue, then wrap my fingers about her throat. "I want to feel my cock down your gullet when you swallow."
Her breathing speeds up. Color smears her cheeks. "Do it then. I want to feel the shape of your shaft on my tongue."
"I see your vocabulary has expanded in the little time I’ve been away."
"You have no idea," she replies and angles forward, or tries to, for my hold on the back of her neck prevents her from moving.
"Why are you stopping me?" she whines.
"Because first, I need you to try on those clothes."
* * *
"And I need a new wardrobe, why?" she calls out from behind the curtain.
I glance up from the script I’ve been trying to focus on since she grabbed a dress and strode into the dressing room.
"Because you’re the next big thing and you need to dress like one,” I say patiently.
"So why couldn’t I have gone to a mall? Or to one of the department stores?"
"Because you’d have been mobbed."
"That’s seriously the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Those photographers were there for—"
"You and me.” I half-smile. “The two of us together, we’re clickbait, baby.”
"I saw the throng of paps with my own eyes, but I still can’t believe they wanted to photograph me as much as you." She pushes the curtain aside, walks out, and my breath leaves my lungs. I take in her hair, which flows about her face, and the shoulders left bare by the dress. A blush pink in color, it clings to her curves, nips in at her waist, then flows down to end just above her knees. With her thigh-high black boots, and the dewy freshness of her skin, she looks like every man’s wet dream come true. She looks like the kind of girl every red-blooded male would want to turn over his lap and spank, then fuck, then take home to meet his mother.
I accepted Giorgina’s help arranging for the wardrobe, and I gave instructions for how I’d love to see her dressed. What I hadn’t considered is that everyone else would see her, too, as soon as she starts appearing more in the public eye. Too late. She’s already in the public eye, and everyone who hasn’t heard of her will very soon. This is, likely, the last weekend I’ll have her to myself. Soon, she’ll release her album and be swept away in the adulation that will accompany it. She'll find success, fame, the life she wants...
As for me? The movie with me at the helm will, hopefully, cement my place in the annals of Hollywood. We'll each be free to go our own way. This weekend, though? She's mine. And while I’ll never unleash the full brunt of my depravities on her, I’m still going to fuck her. I’m going to bury myself inside her pussy, where no one else has been but me, and have my fill of the woman who’s haunted my dreams all these years.
"Take off your dress."
Her face falls. "Don't you like it?"
When I continue to stare at her, she huffs, "What?"
"You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself."
She firms her lips. "I don’t know what crawled up your arse, but I already told you I didn’t come here to be treated like a—"
I angle my head.
She hesitates.
"Like a? Go on, don’t stop now. Say it, Rabbit."
"Like a whore," she spits out. "There, happy?"
"Not until I show you how much you want to be one for me."
"I know you like these domination-submission games—"
