Page 3 of The Banker


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Paris grinds her teeth, delicately. “But, you’ll be with her the whole time she’s here, right?”

“Only when she’s rehearsing and performing. I don’t think she’ll want to hang around here much when she’s not actually working. So, I won’t even be with her really. She’ll be up on the stage or with her dancers.” I don’t actually know that for sure, but it seems to make Paris feel better as she turns her whole body towards me and steps forward, bringing her pussy to my face.

“You owe me,” she orders. I oblige happily, rubbing my nose over her clit, breathing in her possessive scent, before my tongue acts of its own accord. I don’t even care that I came inside her only minutes earlier. I want to please her. I want to feel her shudder against my face, make her scream so loud they can hear her on the golf course. I dig my fingers into the cheeks of her smooth ass, feeling the skin bruising beneath them. She’s small enough that I can inch my thumbs around and part her, easing the way for my mouth. I make a point of French kissing her slow and deep, until I feel her knees weaken, then I hook her left knee over my broad shoulder, bringing her closer still.

“God, Isaac,” she chokes.

I move my lips decadently, sucking her in then circling her with my tongue, as though it’s her mouth I’m plundering.

“Promise me nothing will happen with her,” she gasps, holding back her impending orgasm. “I know I can’t… with, well… I’m not in any position…”

“Shut the fuck up,” I murmur. “I only want you.”

The tremors start the minute I return my mouth to her and I focus intently on her clit as she grips my head, her nails digging into my scalp. Even when her shuddering abates, I don’t stop. I lighten my touch, I blow and I caress, until the sensitivity has passed, then I French kiss her again, deeply, drawing another climax from her core.

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