“That's it,” he rasped when she squirmed. “Take it all in, take my cock all the way.” He rocked his hips against hers- not enough to pull his length out, but just enough to ensure that there was still friction while she stretched to accommodate his girth fully.
“Ah, fuck me, sir, please,” Angela begged, pushing her hips into his. “Move, sir, please oh, sir!” David complied, pulling out nearly all the way until it was only his head that was still inside before sliding back home, and soon they set themselves a steady, if grueling pace. David's hips snapped against hers like a well-oiled piston, and it wasn't long before the heat that coiled deep in her belly threatened to snap, needing to be let out. They were both panting, clearly desperate for release but reluctant to end it.
“Angela,” he panted. “Come for me. Come on, come for me, Angela.” They stood there for a few minutes, panting and recovering before he slid out of her and readjusted himself. He went into his car and pulled out a wet cleaning cloth for her to clean up with, which she took gratefully. After she was cleaned up and the cloth was disposed of, he grinned over at her.
“I can't help but feel positively famished now,” he said casually as he walked over to her with the confident swagger of someone that knew that he was attractive.
She smiled up at him. “And here I was wondering why you had acted like nothing had happened between us,” she sighed.
He chuckled as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
“I was attempting to be somewhat professional for the interview, and I figured we could enjoy ourselves afterward,” he sighed as he let his hand fall back to his side. “I wasn't expecting you to look so good in what you're wearing, though.” She smiled wider and blushed. “Shall we?” he asked as he offered her his arm, which she took gratefully as they went to the elevator and entered as the doors slid open.
As the elevator doors shut, David pressed her against the back wall of it, pressing his mouth to hers and kissing her soundly. She moaned into the kiss, still riding her high from the orgasm she enjoyed mere minutes ago, and allowed him to pin her hands over her head as they felt the elevator slowly bring them down to the first floor. They continued to kiss until the elevator brought them to their destination, and only pulled apart when the elevator dinged to let them know that they had arrived.
* * * *
It was hard not to smirk as he watched Angela adjust her hair, running her fingers through it to try and make it have some semblance of normalcy from her tousled and disheveled appearance. He loved to see the end result of something that he caused. He did that, he's the one that mussed her hair, that put the blush on her cheeks, that made her come and filled her with his seed, and he got the biggest thrill from seeing the end result of what he did to her.
He held the door open for her as they stepped into the establishment and walked up to the host. After he dropped his name to him and requested a private table, a server was called and they were immediately led to a secluded table on the second floor.
“What would you like to drink?” the waitress asked gently as she pulled out a little notepad and a pen.
“Strawberry lemonade for me, please,” Angela said softly with a smile. He noted that it must be one of her weaknesses in terms of a specialty drink, and saved that nugget of information for later.
“Iced tea for me, please,” he said.
With a smile, the waitress promised to be right back to take their orders and scurried off. As they took a look at the menu, it was easy to make idle talk about everything and nothing, and the atmosphere was relaxed between them, something that pleased him. It was good for her to trust him, as it would make things much easier going forward from here on out, and it was better off for him that she was already like putty in his hands.
“So, I'm wondering something,” he said conversationally as he stared at her over the edge of the menu. She looked up from hers and set it down, apparently having already made up her mind.
“Sure, what's on your mind?” she asked with a tilt of her head. The movement exposed her neck, as her hair tumbled to one side over her shoulder, and he grinned at the redness there before responding.
“How did you even wind up at the Planetary Bugle? I've been looking into some of your past articles as a point of curiosity, and they're clearly the best ones that the magazine has.” He leaned back in his chair casually. “Surely someone of your caliber could do better than the Bugle,” he reasoned. He watched the way that she tensed up at the question, and wondered at the story behind it.
“Well, I guess that's not an unfair question,” she said softly, tucking some hair behind her ear. “But I'm not entirely sure that you'd believe me.”
“Try me,” he said easily, and kept his mind open for whatever it was that she was about to say.
“So…” she started, straightening up in her seat as though the conversation was making her very spine stand on end.
That was usually a sign that this was a topic that she'd only gone over with a few people, and wasn't one that she liked to disclose if she didn't have to. He wondered how much it took for her to be willing to open up to him about it, despite the fact that they were already intimately acquainted.
“My boss...he's made it abundantly clear that hiring me from the start was a favor to me, and that I owe him because of that.”
“You didn't try anywhere else before going there?” he asked in a surprised tone.
She nodded her head tiredly.
“I'd tried literally everywhere else before I went to the Bugle. They all said the same thing—”
“Impressive resume, not enough experience?” he offered.
She nodded her head glumly.
“Exactly. Nothing was ever enough. Then, the Bugle hired me.” Her eyes darkened in frustration. “I was better than anything he'd gotten in a long time, and he knew it, so when I tried to leave after a year there, he told everyone that I applied to about how awful I was to work with, and that I was never punctual or professional. Anything to keep me from getting hired anywhere else so he could keep me on.”
“Well, he certainly seems... charming enough,” David drawled sarcastically as he took a sip of his drink.
Angela nodded with a snort as she stirred her strawberry lemonade so that the strawberries were more proportionally distributed.
“He's the absolute best, let me tell you,” she said just as sarcastically. She took a sip of her drink, humming in pleasure at the taste. He would have to make a mental note to tip the waitress exceptionally well for that little display. She'd clearly earned it. “So by the time I was able to get a better job, he'd made sure that I had nowhere else to go. He gloats to be about it all the time when I'm working,” she glowered into her lemonade. “It drives me crazy. For a while now, I've felt like I was never going to get away from him.”
“He isn't going to change my mind about you, Angela,” he said as he rested a hand over hers. “So don't you worry – once this interview is published, you won't have to worry about him ever again.” He smiled and squeezed her hand.
“That means more to me than you could possibly know,” she said softly.
David retracted his hand as the waitress came back to take their orders.
“I'll have the pho, please,” Angela said quietly. The waitress nodded and scribbled her order down.
“Yes, and I'll take the Bò kho with a side of rice, please.” After the waitress was finished scribbling down their respective orders, she gladly took their menus and scurried off again, back downstairs to put their orders in.
“So,” Angela said softly after a few moments of companionable silence where they enjoyed their drinks. “Should we start the next part of the interview now, or wait until after we've eaten? Either way works for me.”
“We can start it now,” David said with a nod as he set his tea down. “I don't mind. And if we get interrupted by food being brought up, we can always pick up where we left off later.”
She nodded and pulled out her recorder
from her clutch. Setting it down, she straightened her posture in her chair, and her face took on a completely different expression. Gone was the timid, blushing woman that he had fucked in the parking garage, and in her place was a professional that wasn't here for anything short of her big story, and David marveled at the instant transformation.
“Very well, then,” she said in a no nonsense tone of voice.
Already, his cock was stirring at the firm way that she was speaking to him. He was the dominant one, to be sure, but seeing her take charge of the interview was incredibly sexy, and he took a moment to be thankful for the long table cloth that concealed his steadily rising erection.
“Mr. Westley, I believe we last left off with you discussing your business strategy for the coming year,” she began.
* * * *
“Ah yes,” he said smoothly as he crossed his legs in a casual manner. “I remember. Yes, the plan for this coming year is simple.” He stirred his tea quietly so as to not interrupt her recording. “I have a few plans to acquire a few other shows that should be coming to television relatively soon – nothing that I can concretely disclose at the moment, but things that are in solid talks as we speak. Once that happens, we'll be seeing a new season of some of the more well received shows, not the least of which, is A Leaf on the Water, which I'm pleased to announce has been given the green light for its second season.”
“Has it, now?” Angela said, her voice cracking to betray her own personal excitement. “I hadn't realized that was going to be renewed for another season,” she said, mostly to herself before shaking her head and continuing, “Are there any others that you can disclose at this time?” she asked, as though she were trying not to sound eager and failing.
So, he thought. She liked some of the shows on his program? He could work with that.
“Well, like I said,” he said in a mock regretful tone, “I can't really disclose most of the shows that we're working on renewing or bringing up for their first season,” he said as he leaned forward. “But I can assure you, that I've personally seen each of them, and I can confidently say that they'll all reach their intended audiences in the best possible state that they could be in.”
“Sounds like you've got everything figured out for this coming year,” Angela mused.
David nodded before he had to remind himself that the recorder was certainly not going to pick up on him nodding at it no matter what he did.
“You could certainly say that.” He flashed her a grin. “I like to be prepared as best as I can be. Competition is fierce, and I've got to make sure my company stays ahead of the curve.”
“It certainly seems like you've had your finger on the pulse of trending entertainment in multiple areas, not the least of which has been some of your clubs and restaurants as well,” she commented, her eyes scanning around the room appreciatively.
His grin widened, knowing that she wasn't feigning being impressed by his work. He certainly liked when people stroked his ego. Among other things, but that was for later.
“I like to think of myself as a classic that likes to create trends that last.” He leaned back in his chair casually. “What good is a trend if it just ends in a few years? The best ones are the ones that stick around for generations, and the food and entertainment industry is no exception to that rule.” He stretched, arching his back and pulling his hand behind him. “I want to create shows and things that people twenty, thirty, fifty years from now can look back on and say, without a shadow of a doubt, 'that holds up to this day,' and I like to think that we've accomplished that so far.” He grinned at her as he righted himself back into a natural sitting position. “And it's something that I intend to continue achieving as we move forward into the new fiscal year.”
“I see,” Angela said with a nod.
She squirmed as though she had to do her best to ignore his grin and the things that it no doubt did to her. David felt his cock stirring again at the thought that he had that kind of effect on her by doing almost nothing at all.
“And what do you think is the key to doing just that?” she continued.
“Easy,” he said as though he were anticipating her question before she had even fully thought it. “When you decide to take on a show, or a project, or a continuation of something beloved…” he began, folding his hands together and resting them on the table. He hoped that the noise didn't disturb her recording, and took a pause just in case before continuing, “you can't just throw a sum of money at it and say, 'make it happen,' no matter what anyone else tells you.” He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, and decide how he was going to word them. “You need to be involved in every major step of the production, to see how things are coming along,” he frowned. “But at the same time, you can't stifle the creativity that makes these things great, either. You have to be the hand that both feeds and guides that creativity without interfering so much that they want nothing to do with it.” He glanced up at her, his eyes smoldering in their intensity. “It's a delicate balance, and its one that I'm constantly having to adjust to meet, but the quality of the products I'm behind are so much better for it, that any struggle on the way to their completion is worth it.” He sipped his tea thoughtfully, having clearly said all he wanted to say on the matter.
“That's...wow. I hadn't realized,” Angela said, mostly to herself, and likely too quietly for the microphone on her recorder to pick up on it. “I never thought of it that way, to be honest.” She looked impressed with his choice of wording, and he felt a swell of manly pride that he was able to instill that in her by just talking to her about what was his daily routine at his work. “I always thought that it was just the big wigs that benefited from a show and its success, and that they only cared about viewership and all that.”
“Oh, they benefit from it, too,” he said with a nod. “Probably the most, if I'm being honest,” he admitted through more sips of his tea. “But the ones that don't take the time to make their content worth sticking around for will still inevitably fail, even with what profits they got at the start. Because they don't try. I would rather people like them benefit in a way that isn't actually helping them, than leave viewers unsatisfied with a majority of the things that they can find to watch on television and on the big screen.”
“Wish more of the big producers thought like that,” she said as she scratched her nose delicately. “Sometimes when I watch a show, I feel like it's the same old schlock as the last show I just finished. It just feels like something that deserves to be nothing more than background noise.”
“Though I can understand where you're coming from, I'd rather that they didn't adapt to my way of thinking all at once,” David said honestly as he polished off his drink, chuckling all the while. “Else I fear I'd have to show my competitive side, and things might turn ugly!” They both shared a sensible chuckle at the obvious joke. “Maybe someday, they'll all collectively get it together, and the market will get more cut throat, but not today.” He set his now empty glass aside and looked up as the waitress approached with their food and some refills on their drinks, all balanced on a tray in her hand. “But we should probably cut things off right now; I'm positively famished.”
“Sure,” Angela said, and with catlike grace, plucked her recorder from its place on the table, flicked it off, and set it in her bag all in one fluid motion. David had to admit, seeing her stretch like that, and getting a generous eye full of her cleavage through the low cut top she was wearing certainly made ending the interview worth it.
Well, that, and it was an excuse to move on to more entertaining talks.
* * * *
“It all looks absolutely delicious,” Angela said, her mouthwatering as she looked at her pho, steaming in its bowl and smelling absolutely scrumptious; she could smell the broth, the pork, and the vegetables all coming together in a savory harmony of flavors that she couldn't wait to sample on her tongue. “I just need to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back.”
“Of course,” David
said with a nod as he sipped at his fresh drink. “I'll be here!” he said with a grin as she made her way to the ladies' restroom.
After she took care of business and washed her hands, she took a moment to check her appearance in the mirror. She frowned as she noticed that her lipstick had faded off, most likely on her glass of strawberry lemonade.
With a sigh, she pulled out her lipstick and touched it up hastily. After teasing out her hair a little so that it hung over one shoulder, she nodded to her reflection, satisfied, and made her way back to the table. From where she was coming from, David's back was to her, and she was surprised to find that he was on his phone, talking to someone. Had she really taken that long? She hadn't thought so. As she neared, she paused as she heard a snippet of what David was saying.
“...Yes, I know. Look, just make sure no one knows about it, alright? I want it kept under wraps. It wouldn't do for people to know about it.”
She wondered what that could possibly pertain to. Unbidden, her thoughts instantly flashed to the assistant of his that she was replacing, the one that was found dead. That couldn't be what he was referring to, could it? No, that's silly! And yet, the thought was there, in the back of her mind now, and there was no shaking it. She hoped that she was wrong, that it was related to something completely unrelated and normal – he was a business executive, after all – but it was steadily becoming a greater and greater concern for her. Particularly since she was filling the position of a dead woman.
Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance Page 108