by Alexis Angel
I haven’t figured out how to handle the fact that I don’t want to play my part on the next episode now that Layla’s in the picture. I’m sure that would hurt her. I sure as fuck wouldn’t be cool with seeing her go down on some other dude, so I’m not going to make it a double standard, even if it technically is my job.
Toby holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll back off. God knows I’ve been after this guest host spot for fucking ever. Not going to ruin it now.” Yet he still gives me a sly look. “So when’s the wedding?”
I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat, clasping my hands behind my head and crossing my knees at the ankle, trying to go for a casual look. Hoping Toby doesn’t realize that his words just drove home all the crazy thoughts I’ve been having all day.
“Whatever, man.”
Toby scoffs, apparently unconvinced. “No, you don’t get off that easily. You’re trying to tell me that you aren’t serious about Layla? That you don’t have feelings for her?”
I shrug.
“Because from where I’m sitting, it’s pretty clear. You just handed over the next show to me, giving me the chance to go down on the hottest woman in America right now. So the way I see it, it’s one of two things.” He pauses, and I raise my eyebrows, going for indifference. “You’re either in love or you’re dying. Nothing else in the world would make you do this.”
I just sit there feeling shell-shocked, sure that it’s written all over my face. But I can’t keep up the charade when he’s just dropped that kind of truth bomb.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
He’s right. I don’t want anyone else. Only Layla. Because I’m in love with her.
Layla
I’m trying my hardest to focus on the woman speaking to me over the phone, but it’s really hard to keep my mind from wandering. I keep getting this horrific picture of Jake and that actress, Meghan Mitchell. Just the idea of having to watch him go down on her has me feeling sick.
I mean, I know I don’t have to watch. I won’t be able to, honestly. But even knowing that it’s going to happen has me sick enough. I don’t know how to deal with it. I knew this was something that I’d have to deal with. I mean, it’s what he’s built his career on. I can’t exactly ask him to walk away from it. Especially when I’m not even sure how he feels about me.
I know he’s genuine at least. I’ve had my doubts wondering about the possibility of him just trying to use me to get the FCC case dropped. But those doubts are long gone after the last couple of days. Still, I don’t know if he cares about me the way I know I’m starting to care about him. I can’t just be like, Hey, Jake, I know your entire career was built on the success of this show, but how about walking away from it just for me?
Um, no. Even if the idea of him burying his face in some other woman’s pussy night after night has me sick to my stomach, I’d never ask him that. That’s just not okay. That doesn’t make it any easier.
“I just can’t say enough wonderful things about Jake,” the woman on the phone gushes. I swear she sounds like she’s giving an infomercial about the sex god that is Jacob Kent.
Trying to regain my focus, I continue with the interview. This was one of the integral pieces of my job looking further into this show. I originally thought I could get better insight into these women and how much Jake’s show fucked them up. It was my trump card in the game of toppling the cunning linguist.
But when I started these interviews a little over an hour ago, I was dreading them. I no longer want to stack up a case against him.
Which makes it a total relief that every single woman I’ve spoken to has done nothing but sing his praises.
“It may sound crazy,” the woman continues, “but he changed my life. Truly. I can’t imagine where I might be if he hadn’t taught me how to celebrate my own sexuality. It’s like there’s a whole other world out there I’m only just starting to experience. You might not get what I’m trying to say, but just believe me when I tell you it was life changing.”
No, I get it. Totally. Jake has changed my life too. Even though it’s only been a few short weeks, I can’t imagine my life without him now. I don’t even want to try.
I want to be with him in any and every way possible, I realize, even if it means dealing with his show.
“Thank you so much,” I tell the woman before ending the call. “Your responses have been very helpful. Oh, and by the way,” I add with a smile. “I’m so happy that Jake was able to help you.”
Yeah, I can deal with it. Especially knowing he’s helping out all these women. I might not like it, but I can live with it. As long as I’m the one he comes home to at night.
Well, if that’s what he wants. There’s no doubt in my mind now that I do.
I make several more phone calls over the next few hours and basically just get more of the same. By the time I’m done with the interviews I have report after glowing report of how Jake has changed all of these women’s lives—for the better in every single circumstance.
Now all that’s left is for me to prepare my report. I’ve done my due diligence. Completed my research. Observed the behind the scenes processes. There’s nothing left to conclude about A Cunning Linguist. My decision on the fine has been made.
Now I just have to write it up and send it to Lori. She’s going to be furious when she sees the results.
Jake
It’s been such a long day. Toby’s long gone, but I’m still in my office working on my computer, fleshing out some ideas that I have for ACL for the next half of the season. What can I say? I was inspired. I guess love can do that to a guy.
Yeah, I said it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what Toby said earlier and my subsequent realization. Layla is perfect for me. There’s no question in my mind now.
Just as I’m about to put the finishing touches on my draft from my brainstorming session, my phone beeps. I pick it up.
Layla.
Tapping on the phone to bring up her text, my eyes practically bulge out of my head.
Oh fuck.
Layla just sexted me with a carefully angled photo of herself. From what I can see she’s on her bed—naked. There's nothing too crazy about it; I can’t actually see anything, but it’s what I can’t see that makes my cock spring to attention.
It’s almost artistic the way she has her arms and legs positioned across her body. And if I’m not mistaken, her hand that disappears just at the bottom of the screen is settled right in between her legs.
I groan as I read her message.
Typing with one hand because the other is busy right now.
This woman. Like I said. Perfect for me.
Sounds hard, I reply.
Pointing my phone down, I snap a picture of my pants, which look like they’re about to be shredded by the massive boner she’s causing.
A minute later there’s another beep.
It is a bit of a sticky situation.
She immediately follows up with a picture of nothing but her fingers—wet and dripping with her juices.
Jesus Christ. I can’t wait another minute. My cock is already throbbing more painfully with every passing second. I quickly whip my dick out and wrap my hand around it, hissing out a breath as I imagine her wet, sticky, cum-coated fingers wrapping around my thick cock.
My cock twitches and I stroke myself, my breath coming faster. With my other hand, I snap another picture of me jerking off and send it to her.
Yeah, yeah, women don’t want to be assaulted with dick pics, right? I call bullshit. Maybe they just haven’t been seeing the right dicks. Because mine right now? It’s thick and swollen and throbbing, the massive head dripping with precum as I continue jerking off to thoughts of Layla’s sweet, sweet pussy. You’re imagining it, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you aren’t. You wish you could see what Layla’s seeing. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want me to send this to you right now.
That’s what I thought.
Layla’s next text makes me gri
n.
Are you coming or what?
Coming or cumming? I send back.
The next picture I get from her is all it takes to have hot, sticky jets of cum shooting from my cock in huge spurts.
It’s a full on picture of Layla’s pussy, her fingers sliding inside.
“Fuck,” I grind out. “Layla.” My orgasm rips through me, but it’s not enough. I’m still rock hard. The only thing I need right now is to be deep inside of her.
Cleaning up quickly, I button my pants back up and grab my phone, calling her as I stride out of my office and lock the door behind me. Enough of this sexting shit. I need to hear her voice right the fuck now.
She answers with nothing but breathy pants.
“Layla,” I say. “I’m on my way. Don’t you fucking dare come without me.”
“Too late,” she moans, her words turning into a cry of pleasure that has me feeling slightly crazy.
I get in my car and tear off down the road. She’s still fucking coming. Holy hell.
“Jacob,” she sighs as she comes down from her orgasm, her voice raw from her screams, her heavy breathing urging me on. I’m going way too fast to be safe, but I don’t fucking care.
I need to be inside her. Five minutes ago.
“I told you not to come,” I growl.
She laughs. “I guess if you want to see me come then you’ll just have to make sure I have another orgasm when you get here.”
Now that’s a challenge I’m more than up to.
“Done,” I say. “What are you doing now?”
“I’m licking my cum off my fingers.”
Just. Fuck. I have no words. This woman has to be the most perfect creature I’ve ever met.
“How does it taste?” I croak out.
“Delicious,” she says, her voice low and husky.
“I plan on indulging in it all night long.”
“Promise?” Her voice breaks at the end of the word and she’s breathing faster again.
“Jesus Christ, woman, can’t you wait?”
She laughs. “Nope. I guess I’m a sex-crazed maniac. It’s a problem. I might need help from a sexpert.”
“It’s definitely not a problem. And I’m more than up for the challenge.”
“You better get here fast or you’re going to miss all the fun.” Her next words are lost in the sound of her moans again and the phone beeps three times, indicating the call has ended.
Such a fucking tease.
Then I’m there at her building. I think I made it through the streets of New York in record time. I leave my car on the street and toss my keys to the doorman along with a wad of cash. “Take care of it.”
I enter the elevator and punch the button repeatedly for her floor. The doors slide shut at a snail's pace, and I swear to all that is holy, if this elevator takes another fucking second I might lose my goddamn mind thinking about Layla up there all alone while I’m stuck in here.
Fucking finally, the doors slide open again, and then I’m at her door.
Layla
I answer the door naked because I need Jake in this apartment now. I grab the collar of his shirt, pull him inside, and slam him into the door to close it, my naked body crashing against his still clothed one. My lips close over his, panting over his for a moment, before I pull back and start tearing off his clothes.
I look at that perfect face of his, lust darkening his eyes, and that grin that’s always on his face has an unmistakable look of hunger. His lips part, both of us breathing for a pause before he finally speaks. “Someone’s eager,” Jake says, but his breathing is already ragged. Neither one of us can wait a moment longer. We stare into each other’s eyes, and I can practically hear a soundtrack behind us, swelling before we finally touch each other.
My little sexting experiment has yielded some pretty interesting results, wouldn’t you say? I know that I've never even enjoyed masturbating so much as I did knowing that I was sending Jake those pictures, and the fact that he rushed over here only makes it that much better. That pure male challenge in his voice when I told him he’d need to get here? Well, that’s the sort of thing that just guarantees a repeat performance, no matter how many orgasms you’ve already had. And sure, I had several before he got here, but that was barely a pre-game show to the main event now that he’s here. I have never wanted someone so much in my life; I have never been so wet and desperate to touch a man. I want to please him.
I drop down to my knees and tear at his belt buckle and see that his cock is raging hard, raring to be freed. “You must mean you,” I say with a lighthearted giggle. I look at the full length of his cock and for a moment I’m just overwhelmed; I want to suck his cock and I want to shuck myself on it. I think we both have this generalized excitement that's making us act like wild animals, or like two teenagers that need to fuck as soon as possible.
“At this point, fuck if I know,” he says, grabbing me and pressing me up against the door. My back is against the door and I’m standing up against him, but my legs shoot up on instinct because I need him, and I need him now.
I wrap my legs around Jake and grind my pussy against his cock, my slick folds swiping against his cock so he can feel how wet that he makes me. His hands slide down his pants, finishing off the job I started when I freed his cock. Jake kicks off his shoes, and it's all a blur to me because my mouth is on his neck, his ear, against his lips again.
His hands slide up and down my sides and I shiver against him. My nipples are so hard now, aching for his touch. Jake’s eyes capture my own, and for a moment, our insanely lustful moments are on pause while we share a look.
“Layla…” Jake begins to speak, and I inhale because there’s an actual, present emotional weight in the air around us now. I could tell by that look we shared and now what he said, and suddenly I don’t know what to do. My instincts are torn between panic, excitement, and lust. He started this and now I want to know what he says.
I feel it…something is about to happen. This is one of the moments that I’m going to always remember, and I have that feeling—you know the one, like the bass has been dropped—inside my stomach and I need to breathe it all in. I feel butterflies in my stomach almost like nerves, but also this anxious, anticipatory excitement that makes me want to jump up and down or something. It takes something huge to distract us when we both want to fuck as badly as we do right now.
What’s been happening between us, both of us can feel it. And I think he’s actually saying it. You know…that word that the girl in the relationship never wants to say first, because then she’s desperate? I really think Jake is about to drop the ‘L’ bomb, the bomb to stop all other bombs, right now, despite how our relationship started and everything else about how complicated it is.
Or maybe I’m crazy. Let’s see what Jake actually says to me before I start naming our future babies or something, okay? I mean I don’t have to tell you. You’re biting your nails right along with me.
Okay, now why did I have to say that thing about babies? For whatever biological reason, that gets me even hornier, and now I’m probably giving him crazy eyes while I contemplate this whole future with a man who I really shouldn’t have acted on my attraction toward in the first place. But this spiral of thoughts leads nowhere good, so I take a deep breath and look at him. “Jacob,” I say in a whisper, hoping to summon the energy to say more…and then realizing that, no, I need him to say more. I look into his eyes again, searching for whatever it is that he’s about to say.
Jake’s eyes are warm and he steps closer to me, his hands on my shoulders for a moment, and he squeezes me tightly. “Layla, I love you,” Jake says.
He really says it. The ‘L’ bomb dropped, I feel the anxious energy inside me come to head and I stare at him, desperate all over again to touch him, fuck him, and feel him inside me. His gaze holds mine, his fingers stroking along my jawline, making me shut my eyes and feel the weight of even this feather-light touch like it's the most important thing in the world
.
My eyes start to water. I can’t help myself. “I love you, too, Jacob,” I say, sucking in my lower lip and looking down for a second, the sheer intensity of how I feel about him overwhelming me.
“Look at me, baby,” Jake says, gripping my chin so that I’ll look into his eyes again. “You’re the perfect woman for me. I love you and I can’t stand the idea of not telling you right now. I had to tell you. When you come, I want it to be for me,” Jake says, his voice turning into a growl. “Do you want that?” he asks me in a deep voice that sends shivers up and down my spine.
“Yes, Jacob,” I whimper, wiggling my pussy against him, hyper-aware now of the growing hardness he’s bared that is sliding into my pussy folds with its own direction. “I want to come for you. I want to come on you, come with you, and taste our cum together,” I tell him. The words are nasty, I know, but there’s something pure and sweet in them, too. Like, they’re romantic. There’s something about someone who is truly sexually compatible with you and that understands what you want, what you crave, and wants those things, too. Jake understands my lust on a primal level. There’s body language and there’s being fluent in lust, and Jake knows every unspoken word my body says and translates it into bliss.
The head of his cock slips into my pussy folds now, sinking into me. I cry out and wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him tighter.
Jake carts us off to my bedroom, his cock never leaving me, and I feel him thrust into me, stretching me, filling me so perfectly that my eyes roll back in their orbits. He fucks me hard and merciless, obliterating my rational mind with each thrust of his cock. My body crashes down on the bed and Jake is on top of me, pistoning his cock into me with deep, long, incredible strokes that light my body on fire with lust and hunger. His hands stroke up my body, then put my hands above my head. I gasp as he starts to slam longer strokes into my pussy, fully pulling his cock out of me and then slamming back into me so deep that my eyes are rolling back in my head.