WICKED GAMES | COMPLETE

TWENTY THREE

Andie

She knew from the very first smirk he gave that Miles Mason was trouble.

She was right, and now she found herself knee-deep - or, to be more accurate, knees-on-the-floor - in his dirty games.

He sat on the edge of the couch, unzipped his delicious black denim and inched it down, revealing a faint V-line and a dark trail of hair that snuck into the band of his black designer briefs.

"Take it off," he commanded.

Trembling with nervous desire, Andie reached up and peeled the band down until it hit a snag. Hearing Miles' breath shorten, she pulled harder, and his entire length sprung forth before her eyes.

She gasped at the shocking size of his glistening girth, its head red with arousal. She felt him reach down and grasp her hair, before gently coaxing her towards his cock.

"Suck."

Heart pounding wildly, she parted her lips and slid them down his length, placing pressure on his head. He buckled and groaned, shoving his cock deeper into her mouth. Pleased with his reaction, she wrapped her tongue around him, feeling the flesh harden from her motion.

"Fuck," he cursed, clutching tightly at her hair. He thrust his hips into her face, burying his dick further in. His tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged, but she kept moving, eager to feel his warm cum fill her mouth.

She bobbed up and down, feeling her spit drip down her neck and over her breasts. Getting bold, she cradled his balls and felt them tighten.

"I'm coming," he growled, trying to pull her off. She knew he wanted to finish the job on her tits, but she kept going, tightening her suction on his head.

"Andie - fuck!"

The hot liquid shot into the back of her throat as he came in bursts. Miles grasped her hair, his breaths quick and ragged, his cock twitching from the sudden release. She gripped the base of his dick, teasing him with her tongue before swallowing his cum.

DING!

They startled at the sound of the doorbell. Andie suddenly became painfully aware that she was buried between Miles' legs, her tits hanging and dripping with spit, in the middle of the marbled floor of his Presidential Suite.

"Shit," he grumbled, guiding his cock from Andie's mouth and pulling up his bottoms. "Get changed. The clothes are in the closet."

Andie gulped, running into the bathroom to rinse off. From behind the ornate wooden door, she could hear the muffled sound of Miles unlocking the main door.

"Yes?"

"Oh my god, it's really you!" A high-pitched voice screeched through the door. "Mr Mason, I really need your autograph!"

"Were you following me?"

"No, well, yes, well - we saw you in the lift, and..."

Just some crazy fans, Andie thought bemusedly as she gratefully shed her suit and stepped into the shower.

As the water streamed down her body, she recalled how Miles just made her suck him off in front of those massive windows, and how she slobbered messily all over his dick.

She had no idea doing something so dirty would turn her on so badly, and now she herself was wet with excitement. Her hand began to travel south, but she stopped herself.

Shit. No, I have to get back to the hall.

She scrambled out of the shower and towelled down, scanning the bathroom for her change of clothes. She was grateful to finally be rid of that uncomfortable costume, but now she had to find something to actually wear.

She peeked out and heard Miles still chatting with his fans at the door. Silently, she padded to the closet in his room and slid it open.

A camo shirt and black leather skirt hung in plain view.

Wait. It's the outfit that tanned girl was wearing. Did she and Miles...?

She gingerly pulled the pieces out, dismayed at having to wear some other woman's minx costume, but she didn't see any other choice.

She buttoned up and stepped out of the room, only to see Miles staring at her, frozen in place.