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His mouth abandoned me as I convulsed and moaned as the rhythmic squeezes of my release overtook me. I crumbled as my body vibrated on a frequency of sheer bliss. I didn’t want to come down…especially when I knew I’d be disciplined. But I’d have to open my eyes eventually.
I drew a deep breath and cautioned a look at him. He'd shed his sleek button down shirt so I got an eyeful of the tight muscles of his abdomen and the tantalizing v cut that led to his groin area.
He stood there watching, waiting for me to gather myself, ever the model of control and patience. But his eyes told another story. They were glazed with lust at watching me come—and excited about inflecting punishment.
Forgetting my training would cost me dearly.
As he unfolded his pants from his body, it was like peeling back layers to get to the juicy fruit beneath. His mouthwatering erection protruded from his underwear, massive and swollen. I slid back onto the bed, fear and arousal gripping the words of my apology.
"I-I know I was supposed to wait." I swallowed as he came closer, naked and unsheathed, holding his bulge firmly in one hand. "I just couldn't hold on any longer."
There was a devilish smile on his lips that extended all the way to his clear blue eyes. "You should save your breath.” His voice deepened. “You're going to need it."
There was no amount of psyching myself up or preparation before Jacob wrestled a handful of my hair, pulling me toward him. Once my lips were close enough to his engorged cock he released his shaft and tangled both hands in my hair, holding tight.
I had no time to trace the veiny length of him; barely drawing a breath before he pushed past my lips and into my mouth. I gargled around his length, stretching my mouth wide and moaning into the salt and musk of his skin. He thrust deep, deeper than I was expecting and nearly forced his way down my throat. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I gagged on his length. The wet, sloppy sounds seemed to turn him on even more as he used my hair like reins and dictated a feverish beat.
After a few minutes of discomfort chased with the warmth of giving him pleasure, he slowed his thrusts, drawing back until the head of his cock lie just behind my lips, letting me lick and tease the angry purple head with my tongue. From the way his muscles tightened and his breath hitched, I knew that he could have melted in my mouth then and there—and for my infraction, I had no right to expect any more than that. But my body hummed for more, it needed to feel him and touch him from the inside.
With a hollow moan he pulled from my mouth and climbed on the bed. I couldn't stop a smile from stretching from my mouth to the very sun that was dancing on the beautiful contours of his body. He was clearly trying to maintain control, his arms flexing as he poised the head of his cock at the edge of my slick heat, his eyes narrowed and stern. But I didn't want control right now. I wanted all of him.
I locked my legs around his waist, pulling him into me, taking every hardened inch in one swift stroke. If my brazen act rubbed him the wrong way he gave no indication, rocking into me with a frenzy and a desperation that matched my own. He drove into me, hard, fast, and wild until we were only heated flesh; until we both reached that fever pitch and melted in each other’s arms..
We didn't move from where we lay lengthwise on the bed, still catching our breath. We were both sweaty and slick against one another, tangled up in love stained sheets.
"That was a pretty ballsy move just now." There was the usual sternness in his voice, but there was something else. Something warm and approving. “I think I like it when my little sub is defiant every now and then.”
So I decided to bring up the thing we'd avoided since he started introducing me as a staff publicist to reporters a week ago.
"I don't want you to promote me, Jacob."
He let out a sigh. "Don't be silly, Leila. Of course I'm going to promote you."
I pushed his hand from its place across my stomach and pulled myself to a sitting position. "Don't be dismissive."
He didn't move from his position of leisure, hands tucked behind his head, but his eyes were straight up business. "I'm not being dismissive. You said you were the best. Why shouldn't you have the best job?"
"Because no one will respect me if I go from aide to personal assistant to publicist in a month."
Business changed to personal as his eyes darkened. "If anyone says a word-"
"That'll show 'em," I scoffed. "’Better treat Leila extra nice or she’ll run and tattle’." I scooted back on the bed, needing to be close enough that he could see how serious I was and how important this was to me. "I need to do this for myself, Jacob. I've wanted to do this job all my life. It's my freaking dream for crissakes."
"Then I'll help you fulfill it," he said simply. "It's settled."
"I don't want a handout," I insisted, my voice rising along with my frustration level. "I want the job on merit, not my relationship status." When it still seemed like I was banging my head against the wall, I took a breath and kicked my legs back off the side of the bed.
I walked over to the window, looking out at the beautiful lines of the concrete jungle. This city was full of stories. Pages of broken dreams. Tales of unbelievable success. Jacob had his own saga himself—his father wanted him to go in show business, in front of the camera, instead of handling crises behind it. He should have known better than anyone what it meant to make a name for yourself and the power of controlling one’s own destiny.
I turned back to him, cooling my temper. "I appreciate everything you've done for me babe. Really I do. But I need you to understand how important this is to me."
He sat up and gave me a long pensive look that rooted me in place. "I need you to understand that it is hard for me to not give someone I love every damn thing under the sun." He raked a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head. "But if this is important to you, I'll try and support you."
‘Try’ wasn’t as concrete as I was hoping for, but with Jacob, I knew I’d have to celebrate inches like they were miles.
****
I breezed through the front doors of Whitmore and Creighton, my heart hammering in my chest. The nerves weren't the same ones that I felt when I came in for the interview, with my chest tight and butterflies whipping around in my gut, but the same feeling that I stuck out like a sore thumb remained. I was dressed as stylishly as everyone else—wearing a blush colored blouse that had the right amount of femininity and allure, a inky black pencil skirt hung on my curves and nude pumps—but I still felt like I was wearing a costume, playing a role and I didn't quite have the words down.
