by J. P. James
Jimmy falls back as Blake continues to march toward the car.
“He’s not in the mood to discuss politics today,” Jimmy tries to assure me. He pats me on the shoulder like a friend, but I shake it off immediately. No offense to Jimmy, but I don’t need his pity. I need my damn interview!
Exasperated, I run up to Blake and cut him off just before he reaches the passenger door. Hopefully he can’t see my erection because my jacket is blocking it.
“Fine, I’ll find someone else. Thank you for your time, Mr. King,” I say with a frown. I want him to know that I’m professional but upset with him. If he expects me to be a flake, Blake King has another think coming.
I walk away quickly but calmly; I don’t want the billionaire to realize this sucks as much as it does. This hurts more than I thought it would, though. After the sex we had, he could at least give me a quote. Is that too much to ask?
Maybe I thought Blake would care about me a little bit, but who am I kidding? We barely know each other, and even though we fooled around, it wasn’t more than that. I’m just a young reporter he wanted to sink his teeth into, nothing more. I start to walk down the street as Jimmy climbs into the limo.
But then the limo pulls up next to me, and the car door opens. I turn to look, and what do you know? Blake King sits there, his cobalt eyes fixed on me. The intensity of his stare is too much to bear. I avert my eyes.
“Get in,” he says curtly. He’s impatient, but a tiny flame inside of me bursts to life. I stride to the limo and climb in before he changes his mind.
8
Chase
We take a circuitous route through the city, dropping Jimmy off at the office before pulling up to Blake’s apartment. The billionaire doesn’t say a word the entire way, but once we step through the front door, he relaxes somewhat.
“I hope the detour wasn’t too much trouble. Jimmy still has meetings to organize and coffees to drop off,” he says before moving to step into the kitchen.
I take a deep breath and stare out at the skyline. “Not to worry, I’ll go anywhere for an interview.”
This room is bigger than my entire apartment, and the view is breathtaking. The horizon wraps around the entire living room, the setting sun casting the furniture into beautiful shades of pink and purple. I can barely make out the people on the streets below; they look like ants. Instead, I fixate on the Potomac River beyond them, shimmering in the glow of the golden hour.
Blake comes from behind me with a tray of liquor and mixers and sets it on the coffee table. “Would you like another Moscow mule, or perhaps a gin drink?” he asks, pouring himself bourbon.
“You know my drink order?” I ask, looking curiously at him. Was he paying that much attention to me at Westie’s? My heart flutters at the thought.
I turn as he seats himself on the couch. He pats the cushion next to him, inviting me to make myself comfortable. My instinct says to climb on top of him, but I resist the urge and sit on the other couch across from the coffee table. I’d rather draw this out and make both of us even hungrier for each other. I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. His eyes follow the movement of my legs.
“You had one at Westie’s. I took a guess that it was a stressful night for you, and you’d want a familiar drink. I figured it was your favorite,” he explains, gesturing again to the array of spirits before us.
“Gin and tonic, please,” I request. He smiles and immediately starts to pour the alcohol. He mixes like a seasoned bartender. I’m a bit surprised. I wouldn’t expect a billionaire to know how to mix drinks because doesn’t he always have someone serving him? This man continues to surprise me.
“You should be a journalist,” I say, much to his delight. He chuckles. The corners of his eyes crinkle attractively with laughter. I like when he’s amused; it makes me feel like I’m not so far out of my league.
He nods a bit, considering my remark. “To tell you the truth, I’ve considered it. I’m good with facts, but I can’t tell my way out of a paper bag, let alone relay a story,” he says wryly. He hands a drink to me. I take it, but our hands linger as sparks fly. For a white-collar man, his hands are rough.
“Were you a construction worker before you decided to be a billionaire?” I ask with amusement.
He turns his hands over to inspect them. “No. I started rock-climbing about nine months ago. Jimmy can eat three Porterhouse steaks and not gain a pound. Plus, he moves like a cheetah at work. He made me feel like an old man, so I thought I should try a new physical activity,” he says unashamed, taking a sip of his drink and watching my face.
Ah-ha. I’m seeing a lighter side of the billionaire now, including what he likes to do for fun. He’s opening up to me.
“So that’s how you have such strong arms. No wonder,” I remark. A flock of geese fly in a V-formation across the horizon. We turn and watch them in silence.
“What do you do for physical activity?” he questions, but not in a creepy or patronizing way. He asks like he wants to get to know me. I smile.
“I try to run between interviews. I hate running, but I break into a light jog. Does that count?” I wonder. He laughs, and I can feel the light in my eyes brighten. I love his laugh.
“That counts. I understand how busy you must be,” he comments. He takes the last swig of his bourbon and pours himself another drink. Watching him, I can’t help but speak up.
“I see Old Fashioneds are your weakness,” I remark. He lifts his head. His eyebrows rise high in the air, making me blush.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m just impressed when a young man knows an Old Fashioned when he sees one. You know young people these days,” he says. “They always want a drink that’s neon colored or has some kind of speakeasy flair to it. There’s almost no room for a classic like an Old Fashioned.” He immediately regrets his comment and tries to repent. “I’m sorry if that was offensive; I meant nothing by it,” he apologizes before I shake my head.
“Don’t worry about it. My mom is from Kentucky, so I know a lot more about bourbon than most people do, young or old,” I explain. He smiles and lets his eyes travel up and down my body. I go hot all over, letting his eyes dance over my skin. I love the way he looks at me.
The billionaire sucks in a deep breath. “You seem to know a great deal about a lot of things. Then again, there are many things you have yet to learn.” His eyes smolder. I can hear the invitation in his voice, making my heart flutter and my cock pound.
“You haven’t touched your drink,” he notices, looking down at my glass. I set it aside and grab my work bag.
“I’ll get to it in a moment, but first, I want to know more about your day,” I say. I reach inside of my bag and pull out my tape recorder and headphones, as well as a pen and pad. I fit the headphones onto my head and plug them into my recorder.
“Seriously, is this necessary?” he asks. His voice sounds harsher than it was, but it still has warmth to it. I want to cut to the chase as much as he does, but business is business.
“Not so fast. I have an assignment to complete,” I remind him. I start the recording. The billionaire sighs before leaning back and crossing one leg over the other.
I announce into my recorder, “Date: February 7th. Location: Penthouse at 2900 K Street Northwest. Name: Mr. Blake King, publisher of The Washington Post. Subject: Senate Intelligence Committee briefing in relation to National Security Agency data dumps,” I state for the record. I place the recorder on the coffee table between us before looking back up at him. Any semblance of play is now gone. The billionaire’s brows are arched inward, his eyes severe.
“I don’t want to talk about the meeting,” he says curtly.
“Blake, I only need an opinion. I can keep this interview anonymous,” I insist. I test my luck and push the recorder closer to him. He pushes it back toward me and leans forward.
“This isn’t ethical, and you know it. Now, turn off that machine,” he chides me. He places his glass on the table, his moveme
nts curt.
Even though I want to sit here and get to know this man, he knows I have work to get done. In fact, he’s the one who can help me do it, yet he’s resisting? This really is a strange world.
“Nothing about us is ethical, Mr. King. I’m under a time crunch, and I need this done. Are you going to help me or not?” I say as my final ultimatum. I put my glass down just as rough as he did. He says nothing, just sits back in silence.
I take my headphones off and grab my recorder. “Fine, you won’t help me. I’ll see myself out,” I announce without an ounce of regret in my voice. If he thinks I’m just a fuckboy, then he’s sorely mistaken.
I stand to leave, but he rises to stop me. “Get out of my way,” I order as I push around him. He cuts me off, and I throw my hands up to meet his chest. He grabs me around the waist. We wait for a moment, just touching one another like this and looking into each other’s eyes. He reminds me of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, except I don’t know which man I’m talking to right now.
“I don’t understand. What am I doing here, Mr. King?” I turn my face away from him but then he lifts mine to his.
“Please, Chase. Call me Blake,” he rasps.
He leans in and places his sculpted lips on mine. His tongue parts my lips and moves gently, making me even harder. We pull each other closer until a thought piques my mind so sharply that I pull myself from his face.
“Blake, why am I here? I want you to say it,” I ask again, my lips burning for more of him but my conscience searching for some reassurance. I need to know what’s on his mind. He smiles back at me.
“I don’t want to mix business and pleasure,” he says coolly.
“You think I do? This is complicated for both of us,” I plead. He holds me for a moment. I let my body sway to the side, and I think back to Westie’s.
“That night at the restaurant, all I wanted to do was talk with you. I thought you were so out of my league. I would have settled for just a couple of minutes of conversation because I thought anything more was asking too much,” I admit. “You’ve always been out of my league, so can you blame me for seeking reassurance? You’re my boss and worth about a million times more than I am.”
He takes my hands in his and merely looks at me.
“You shouldn’t be so insecure, sweetheart. Money isn’t everything. Nor is power.”
I jerk my eyes up at him.
“But can you understand why I need to hear the words? I mean, what exactly are we doing?”
Blake cocks his head to the side for a moment, but then shakes his head.
“I’ll give you all the answers afterwards,” he growls. “After this.” With that, his lips move to my mouth again, seizing it in a deep, passionate kiss. My head spins, and overwhelmed, I grab his shoulders to hold myself up.
He spins me through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom. I take a quick glance around the room before he devours my mouth again. There’s a huge wooden bed, with a deep navy bedspread and assorted medieval swords hung on the wall. There’s not much else. It’s a true bachelor’s room.
He throws me onto the mattress. I crawl my way to the headboard as he pulls off his black loafers. He moves forward to meet me, and I laugh as he undoes my shirt, pulling it off, before doing the same with my pants. Before soon, I’m naked before the billionaire, my cock weeping for his touch.
But I want it too. “Remind me where we left off,” I demand as I lean forward and grab the top of his shirt. I manage to undo two buttons before he takes my hands and stops me.
“Let me see,” he growls as he takes either knee and pushes them to the side. Slowly and sensually, he reveals my sex to him. My cock juts out, glistening under the low lights, as my balls tremble.
“If I remember correctly, you came twice, and you tasted sweet,” he whispers in my ear. Without another word, he dives between my legs and sucks the head of my dick into his mouth. I’m still edgy from yesterday, so as soon as his lips touch me, I’m catapulted into ecstasy. The billionaire sucks my glans like a pro, moaning as he enjoys the taste of my pre-cum. Turned on, I spurt a bit more into his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re horny,” he says. “You’re my little fuckboy aren’t you? My hot, tight fuckboy.”
At this point, there’s no sense in denying it. I belong to this man, from top to bottom. Panting, I nod.
“I’m yours,” is my affirmation. “Use my body.”
He laughs deep in his throat before taking my entire cock into his mouth. Holy shit, how does he do it? I’m not a small guy, and slowly, inch by inch, my hot rod disappears between those talented lips.
“Blake,” is my throaty moan as my fingers make their way through his black hair. “Oh fuck, that feels good.”
His eyes flick up to meet mine, teasingly, and he increases the vacuum. It’s unbearable and stars burst before my eyes.
“Oh my god, I’m going to come,” is my hoarse pant. “I’m going to ---”
It’s too late. My cock jerks and I burst against his tongue. Hot lashes of semen pour into his mouth, and ever the expert, Blake drinks it all. He swallows and swallows and swallows, his throat moving visibly as every last drop of sperm is consumed.
Finally, he backs off, letting my huge, glistening cock out of his mouth.
“That was good,” he says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “You’ve been eating well.”
I don’t even know what to say. This man is so dirty. He made me come from just a few flicks of his tongue, and the sensuous application of his lips. I’m overwhelmed, but I also want more.
“Please, Blake. I want you inside of me,” is my breathy pant. The billionaire grins as he removes his cock from his trousers. I can’t help but stare, awed at its length and girth. He must be ten inches at least, and as wide as a soda can at the base. My mouth starts watering and my cock jerks back to life again.
“Taking notes, Mr. Adams?” he asks. “You ready for this monster?” He’s taunting me, but that only makes me want him more.
I lean back and pull him on top of me like a lust-driven wild animal. My cock bobbles between us, leaking fluid all over again as he settles his dick tip at my hole.
“I need it, Blake,” I whisper as I pull him closer. “I want you inside my ass,” I say into his ear and then lean back against the pillow. His gaze is even more intense. He looks hungrier than he’s ever been before.
“I know I surprised you the other day. If you want to take things slower today, I don’t mind.” That blue gaze is blazing, and I feel like I’m about to explode. But I want it, so I reach down and slip my hands between my legs, bumping his cock out of the way slightly. He looks down to take in the sight, and smiles as I finger my own asshole.
“Man, you’re dirty,” he growls.
I look up at him, my eyes pleading. “Things change. Right now, I need your cock in my ass. Please, don’t make me beg again,” I insist as I shiver below him. I move my fingers out of me and spit on them slightly before reaching back down to massage my hole with the wetness on my fingers. It feels amazing, and knowing that his dick is so near drives me crazy. He takes my mouth in a soft kiss this time. He’s gentle now.
“As you wish,” he promises, kissing my body as he moves.
This time, he spits on his own fingers and reaches down, pushing my hand out of the way. I let out a throaty moan as he begins to stroke my back pucker. Oh shit, it feels good. His fingers are talented, and he helps get me relaxed before edging a digit inside.
“We have to get you stretched,” he hums. “Even though you’ve taken my cock already, you shrink back afterwards. So each time, we need to loosen you up again.”
I moan, my eyes fluttering closed. The billionaire has two fingers in my asshole now, and he’s slowly running them in and out, massaging the walls before scissoring them in the small space. Oh god, it feels so good and my dick spurts again, letting out a jet of man juice.
“Oh,” I moan. My voice is strained as I try to relax.
&n
bsp; “Keep breathing,” he says, calming me down. He moves his finger in and out to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
I nod, levering myself onto my elbows even as he fingers my ass. I lean up, and we kiss. He holds my mouth with his as my bottom gyrates against his hand. He moves a third finger slowly into my ass. I moan again, but my voice comes easily. He goes slowly, and the steady gape allows me to enjoy every new sensation.
“I’m ready,” I say as I push my ass closer to his pelvis, lifting my knees to give him better access. He slowly removes his fingers, letting me savor the pleasure. I groan intensely.
“Be prepared for a world of pleasure,” he says before he kisses me deeply. He takes his cock and edges his tip slowly into me. I wince for a moment, but then my ass relaxes around his cock. He pauses for a moment.
“What are you waiting for? Keep going,” I beg. I keep my breathing steady as he growls.
“I just don’t want you to pass out because it’s so big. I know I’m larger than most men,” he admits. He’s cocky, but rightly so.
“Do your worst,” I challenge him. He kisses me and grips me harder.
“You asked for it,” he grunts before sliding that thick cock deep into me. It’s hard going at first but then my sphincter relaxes, and the ten inch club is buried deep in my backside. I scream and buck but ask for more. I inhale and exhale as he pushes himself in and out of my ass. We’re like the ebb and flow of the tide.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moans. His cock is pounding me so hard it feels like it might come out at my throat, but he can’t stop now. I don’t want him to stop.
“Yes, Blake. That’s it,” I cry out as he works faster. He moves his hand to his lips and spits again before reaching down, using it to lube my ass as he thrusts harder.
I can’t believe this is happening. The rich, eligible Blake King, who also happens to be my boss, just made me come in his mouth, and is now owning my tiny anus. I want it so bad and my body begins to clench.
“Don’t stop, please!” I scream. My orgasm builds with every thrust of his cock.