by Sasha Burke
This is going to be my new hobby. I’ve decided. Some guys golf. Me, I’m going to spend all my free time making Summer come as often as she’ll let me.
And I tell her as much as I stroke my tongue over her hot, swelling clit.
Her hands all but shred the bed sheets. “Oh my god, Jason, I’m going to…”
A fucking flood of her juices fill my mouth and it takes everything I have not to come in my fucking pants. I keep lapping at her, holding her firm while her clit pulses against my tongue.
When her body goes boneless, I trail soft, gentle kisses up her torso, making my way back up to her lips.
“I should go,” I say quietly against her mouth as I tuck her in under her blanket.
“What?” She looks like she’s swimming in quicksand as she tries to summon the energy to get back up.
She is not successful.
Which makes me pleased as fuck.
“You can’t just…” She gestures weakly in the air between us as if she can’t find the words.
“Eat your pussy?” I supply and her cheeks blaze red.
“And then leave,” she says with feeling. “You just keep giving me these…these drive-by orgasms without letting me do anything to you.”
I chuckle. Christ, this woman and her friggin’ cuteness. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to stay and let you have your wicked way with me, but I have to leave for the airport. Business trip, remember? China? For one week?”
“Oh, right,” she sighs disappointedly. “Wait,” she glances over at the clock on her nightstand, “shouldn’t you be at the airport already?”
“I’m going to have to book it over there now.”
“Do you need a ride?”
I smile. “No, I always park my truck at the airport so I can go straight over to meetings and things as soon as I land.”
“Oh.” She tilts her head at me curiously. “Do you travel in your own billionaire jet? I never asked you all the other times you flew out.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No. I always fly commercial. Can’t justify the cost of a private plane. Especially not for these international flights. Plus, there are more cities and flight times if I go commercial.”
“Makes sense,” she says. “I’ve never gone anywhere outside of the country. Really, I just have my passport for government contracts.” Now that she’s no longer in her post-orgasmic haze, she’s back to her usual chatty self and winding all that long, gorgeous hair back up in a quick knot atop her head that leaves a few locks sticking up every which way.
It’s fucking adorable.
She props her chin up on her knees to watch as I re-buckle my belt and straighten out my clothes. “Is your plane going to have those personal pod seats?”
“In the first-class section, yes, but I’m flying business class. With how much I have to travel, the difference in expense adds up. I could fund ten more full college scholarships a year with the money.” I shrug. “So I do.”
She smiles. “God, you really are a saint.”
I puzzle over that. “Who calls me a saint?” Stoic grouch is much more appropriate.
“I do. To anyone who asks. You’re easily the most giving person I know.”
“I’m not a saint, Summer.” I’m not sure why I want her to be clear on that, but I do. “I occasionally splurge on things. At each of my different cabins, I’ve got way more modes of transportation than a person needs—a couple of motorcycles, ATVs, boats, that sort of thing.”
“You have cabins? As in plural?”
I can’t help but smile over that. Summer is just such a refreshing change of pace. Most women I meet already have a stalker file of all my assets. “I’ve got three cabins in the U.S. The one I spend the most time at is actually not too far from our jobsite.”
“Oh.”
She’s like a curious little kitten, this one. And there’s another question brewing in there, I can see it. “Go ahead and ask. I’ve got a few more minutes.”
“No, it’s none of my business.”
I just wait her out. From my experience, questions don’t exactly stay bottled up in Summer for very long.
She breaks a second later. “Okay, I was just going to ask why you don’t stay at your cabin if it’s close to our jobsite.”
Instead of answer right away, I ask her a question of my own, “Would you stay at the cabin? If it were closer than the penthouse?”
“Actually,” she chuckles, “I’d probably pick the cabin even if it were farther away.”
A woman after my own heart.
“I would too. In fact, I used to stay at the cabin more than my loft in the city…that is, until I discovered my new tenant was an adorably sexy insomniac who had this cute habit of knocking on my door in the middle of the night.”
She blushes. “Sorry about that.”
I drop a kiss on her lips. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
My phone chimes and I really can’t ignore this last alert. “Sweetheart, as much as it pains me to ‘dine and dash’ on you.” I grin as her cheeks burn an adorable bright red. “I really do have to head over to the airport. I’ll have my cell phone throughout the entire trip so call me if you can’t sleep. As long as I’m not in a meeting, I’ll answer.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says softly.
“I don’t ever make offers I ‘have’ to, just ones I want to. Trust me, talking to you will likely be the highlight of my days there.”
I pull her in for one final kiss, and make one parting request before I go…
Request, demand—tomato, tomahto.
“No touching yourself this week unless you’re on the phone with me. Deal?”
16
* * *
| SUMMER |
SUNDAY
(Time: 8:35 a.m.)
All week, Jason held firm on his demand.
So far, we’ve video-chatted five times during his trip, and in each call, he’s made sure to talk me through at least one orgasm, usually two.
As a result, interestingly enough, I found myself sleeping better than I ever have in my life.
Today though, I’m determined not to fall asleep on him right after coming my brains out.
It’s Sunday morning for me, meaning it’s late at night in China. Perfect timing. I text him to see if he’s gone to bed yet.
My cell rings almost immediately.
“Hi,” I answer the video call, doing my best to quell my nervousness.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He sounds tired. Which has me rethinking my grand plan for the call. That is, until he asks, “Are you wearing your strawberry panties this morning or the pineapples?”
I shake my head. “No panties this morning.”
That makes him look loads more awake on the screen. “Yeah?”
“Mmm hmm,” I reply casually. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask. You remember how you told me that I couldn’t touch myself without you on the phone?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone now intense.
“What if I did…touch myself? Before you called. Would there be say, a consequence for said hypothetical action?”
His eyes flare with heat, and his chiseled jaw goes granite hard.
Oh wow, this is getting fun.
“Did you touch yourself, Summer?” he asks in a deceptively calm voice.
Instead of answering, I angle my phone camera lower.
“Fucking hell.”
Good lord, I love it when he starts losing control.
Knowing my face is probably as red as a lobster right now, I keep the phone pointed downward, on what my fingers are currently doing.
The sound of his belt hitting the floor is pure music to my ears.
“How many drive-by orgasms have you given me now, you think?” I ask, breathless, but determined.
“A few dozen at least,” he murmurs, sounding wholly distracted. “Always the best part of my day.”
Really, the man says the sweetest things.
�
�Well, I want my turn to do that for you,” I say as I slip two fingers deep inside of me, to show him just how wet I am already.
His resulting groan rips over the phone line.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I say. “Just…watch.”
Since acting isn’t even a remote forte of mine, I rely on all the hot, vivid memories I have of Jason making me come to help me through this.
Highly effective plan, I discover.
I shut my eyes and can almost feel his hands running over my breasts, teasing my nipples to stiff peaks as he whispers his trademark wicked dirty talk in my ear.
I imagine it’s his fingertips instead of mine touching my wet slit, his slick fingers sliding in and out of me.
Before I know it, I’m lost in the fantasy of his tongue stroking my swelling clit, alternating between sucking it hard and grazing it with his teeth.
The sound of his harsh, strained breathing over the phone line has me rubbing my clit harder, faster, until my entire body is nearly shaking with pleasure. In my mind, he’s stroking his cock to the same rhythm, with the same urgency. And holy hell, that image has me close to coming already.
But…without Jason’s dirty talk, it’s just not the same.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby. Get yourself ready for when I get back.” His voice hardens to a tense growl. “Imagine it’s my cock sliding in and out of your slick, hot pussy.”
When I open my eyes to see him pumping his cock on the screen, I ask softly, “Just my pussy?”
“Fucking hell, Summer. Are you saying you’re going to let me have your mouth when I come home? Tell me.”
“Yes.” I’m reduced down to one-word replies.
Jason has no such problem. “That’ll make me come, sweetheart. Are you going to let me come in your mouth? Or in that tight pussy?”
I’m unable to answer. Because the very thought of him coming anywhere inside me has me shattering into pieces, my orgasm so intense I scream out his name as pulses of wet heat rip through me.
He groans.
I’m out of breath, but not too far gone to ask him a question of my own. “Are you going to do all these dirty things you keep telling me anytime soon?”
His voice sounds on edge, but still unwavering. “I told you, we don’t have to rush this. We can wait. Your first time is a big deal.”
“And I’m ready,” I say, a hundred percent certain.
His breathing sounds labored. “Fucking hell, I’m so hard it almost hurts.”
“Because you’re thinking about taking my virginity?”
“Jesus Christ, stop, Summer.”
After all the torture he’s put me through, I can’t help but smile.
Which prompts a groaning chuckle from him. “You’re evil, woman. And I’m going to make you pay as soon as I get home.”
“Promises, promises.”
Suddenly, his smile goes wicked.
And now I’m a teeny bit worried.
“Remember how you asked me what consequences there’d be for touching yourself without me on the phone, baby?”
I feel my breathing start to thin.
“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you,” he says, his voice lowering to a deep, sexy, commanding timbre. “After I make you come in my mouth at least two times, more likely three, I’m going to rub my cock all over your hard little clit until you come all over me. Then, and only then, will I let myself come.” His harsh, rumbling tone turns positively primal. “All over your wet slit…to mark it as mine.”
Oh my god.
“But before I come,” he growls, “I’ll have you take me in that sexy mouth of yours—so you’ll be able to taste yourself on me. Taste how fucking sweet you are, why I’m so damn addicted to making you come.”
By this point, I’m a trembling mess, strung out like an addict overdosing on vivid, dirty, overstimulating sex images.
And that’s when he just…stops.
Just like in every phone call we’ve had this week, the maddening man simply takes in a deep, shuddering breath and zips himself back up without joining me in post-orgasm land.
The stubborn ass.
I’d been so sure I’d be the one to give him a drive-by this time.
“I told you at the start of this week,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I’m not coming again until I’m there with you. Which will be in roughly…” He checks his watch. “Thirty-eight hours.”
17
* * *
| SUMMER |
TUESDAY
(Time: Exactly thirty-eight hours later.)
Jason isn’t simply eating my pussy, he’s downright feasting on it.
And after two crazy intense orgasms in a row, he’s effectively turned my legs to Jell-O. I’m ready to collapse. But instead of taking pity on my poor, exhausted pussy, he simply relocates me, laying me down flat on the ottoman like a virgin sacrifice, before spreading my legs wide and dipping his head back down to continue right where he left off.
“You have only yourself to blame, sweetheart,” he says simply before leisurely sucking my clit into his mouth.
Feeling my legs start to tremble in earnest as he increases the pressure and starts in on round three, I babble, I plead, I argue that there’s no way in the world I’ll be able to come again.
He ignores me.
Some long, torturous minutes later, a flood of wetness gushes out of me.
Accompanied shortly after by a low, deep groan from him.
It’s only then that I realize I’ve been gripping his cock and mindlessly stroking it while he’s been making me come with his mouth.
And just like that, all my zapped energy is back. I somehow manage to quell my embarrassment and shift onto my side so I can lick the head of his cock…while he’s still licking me.
His thighs harden to granite and his hips arch into me, sending his shaft sliding past my lips. Once, twice.
He quickly pulls himself out. “I won’t be able to control myself if you keep this up.”
“Good,” I reply shyly, running my tongue along his entire throbbing length.
“You don’t want me to lose control, baby. Not now.”
I gently squeeze the base of his cock and suck on the broad tip before answering, “It’s not about control. It’s about me wanting you to…”
I feel my face flush. But somehow, I manage to pull up my big girl panties and boldly go where I’ve never gone before. “I want you to…fuck my mouth…like you said you would…while you…while you…”
Gah, who am I kidding? I can’t finish that sentence out loud.
Jason spears his hand through my hair and locks his gaze on mine. “Are you telling me you want to give me head while I suck on your clit? Fuck your pussy with my tongue?”
Oh my god. Instead of answer in actual coherent words—an impossible expectation at this point—I slip my lips over his cock again and simply nod.
He groans and pushes himself deeper until he’s nudging my throat. Then he shifts his stance so he’s able to run his tongue over the lips of my pussy and lap at my clit while he shuttles his shaft in and out of my mouth.
I last almost three whole seconds before I find myself moaning uncontrollably around his hard cock. I can’t control it. Not with him thrusting his tongue and cock into me at the same time.
The combined assault quickly throws me over the edge.
My pussy convulses hard, and I feel my brain whiting out as a blinding orgasmic tidal wave crashes into me…before I promptly pass out.
I barely even register that he’s carrying me to my bed until I feel the soft mattress underneath me.
My eyelids are heavy as I blink up at him slowly. He’s kissing his way gently up my body as he climbs over me, his intense green eyes watching me intently. “You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” he asks as he gently rocks his erection against my core.
Oh. It’s finally time. That’s what all this was for. I feel my heart swell in my chest in belated understand
ing. I nod then and hold onto his biceps as he positions himself at my entrance and begins rubbing the head of his cock gently against my clit.
Suddenly, he stops with a harsh, heartfelt curse. “Damn it. I forgot to grab some condoms.” He actually looks surprised by that fact.
I’m admittedly only half listening. Because he’s still rubbing my clit with the hot, hard head of his cock.
“Shit, Summer, you’re soaking my dick.” He shifts and starts sliding the entire length of his shaft against me now, drenching him from base to tip. With a groan, he stops himself again. “I should really go get a condom.”
He really doesn’t sound like he wants to. And to be honest, the thought of him leaving in the middle of this to go get a condom seems highly unnecessary. “I am on the pill,” I inform him then. “We don’t have to use one, unless you want to.”
He stills.
But even though his eyes are glazing over with hunger, his expression looks…conflicted.
I’m puzzled. I’d always heard that it feels better for guys without a condom.
“Taking you bareback...” His cock pulses between my legs. But again, his eyes cloud with doubt, as if he’s struggling with the entire notion. “It’s just…I’ve never not used a condom before.”
And that’s when it all clicks together. Of course he hasn’t. What billionaire would have sex with someone without a condom? Have I learned nothing from my own birth?
The reminder that I was my mother’s failed attempt at a get-rich blackmailing scheme is a sobering splash of ice cold water. I sit up immediately and cover myself with the blankets. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say, embarrassed. “I’ll wait here while you get the condoms.”
A look of concern crosses his features. “What just happened?” He cups my cheek. “What’s going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?”
There’s no way I can tell him. Of all the things my mother has made me ashamed of throughout our lives, her getting knocked up with me to try and squeeze some money from some random rich guy tops the list.
