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I locked eyes with her. “Take off those glasses.”
She grinned. “Why?”
“Because I want to fuck your pretty little mouth when I look at you. Take ‘em off.”
“I can’t see without them.”
“And I can’t promise you I’ll keep my cock in my pants if you leave ‘em on.”
“So, you’re going to mouth rape me if I choose to wear them?”
I chuckled. “Pretty tough to rape a willing mouth.”
“Who says my mouth is willing?”
“I just did.”
She tried to look surprised at my claim. It didn’t work.
She scrunched her brow. “Based on what?”
I stood from my seat, stepped to her side, and pressed my mouth against her ear. “I want you to suck my big cock, reporter.”
She didn’t respond.
“Did you hear me?” I growled.
She nodded, and an almost inaudible uh huh escaped her lips.
“I want to feel those full lips of yours wrapped around it while you dig your nails into my ass. I want you to force so much of it down your throat that your fuckin’ eyes water,” I whispered.
“I uhhm. I…”
“So, you don’t want it? You don’t want to suck my big fucking dick?”
“Uhhm. No,” she murmured.
I reached below the table and slowly dragged my finger along her inner thigh, giving her plenty of time to resist. After no such protest, I forced my finger beneath the denim of her shorts and slid it into her soaking wet pussy.
“You’re drenched, reporter. It appears your twat doesn’t agree with that bullshit your mouth is trying to sell me. Your wet little pussy wants you to suck my cock.”
“We can’t keep doing this.”
I pulled my finger from inside of her and wiped it on the thigh of my jeans. “Doing what? We’re just talking.”
“We’re…uhhm…we’re…” she stammered.
I sat down and took a drink of my coffee. “We’re talking. I thought that’s what you wanted. To talk.”
Her glasses were askew on her face, one side sitting much lower than the other. Probably a result of me pressing my cheek against hers, but seeing her appear unkempt was satisfying in its own regard.
“Fix your glasses, reporter. They’re crooked.”
She took off her glasses, scowled at me, then placed them back on her face perfectly.
She reached for the recorder, tossed it into her purse, and sighed. “We’re done for the day. Now, I want a ride on your motorcycle. For the sake of the article, of course.”
“God damned shame I don’t have a helmet you can wear. State law requires passengers to wear ‘em.”
