Page 140 of Red Marked

It lasts until she drags my zipper down and tugs my jeans to my thighs. My cock springs free, and she wraps her fist around it. Her hand is cool. I’m not.

“Mr. Happy seems pleased to see me.”

“He sat through two interviews thinking about you. He’s very happy.”

She strokes me once, root to tip, slow, watching my face the whole time. Then she leans in and licks the bead of moisture off my head.

The air leaves me in a hiss.

She does it again, swirling her tongue around my crown like she has all the time in the world. Her other hand slides up the inside of my thigh and cups my balls. She rolls them in her palm, gives them a gentle tug, and my hips jerk forward.

“Fuck, Star.”

“Mmm?” She closes her lips over my head and sucks.

The groan that comes out of me belongs to somebody with a lot less dignity. My shoulders hit the door. I didn’t know I was backing up. Her mouth is hot and tight and so fucking wet, and she takes me deeper, her tongue pressed flat along the underside of my cock. Her fist works the part of me her mouth can’t reach. Down with her lips, up with her hand, a twist at the top. The muscles in my thighs are jumping.

“Fuck, that’s good. That’s so good,” I groan.

She hums. I feel it all the way to my balls, which she’s still rolling in her palm, her fingertips pressing in just behind them.

I get a hand into her hair. I don’t push, but I do need something to hold.

She pulls off with a wet pop. Her lips are swollen and shiny, and her fist keeps moving up and down my dick, slow and slick.

“Do you have a question for me?” She blinks up at me. “This is an interview, after all.”

She’s killing me.

Then she swallows me back down.

A question. She wants a question. I used to know words. I’ve interviewed dozens of people, and right now I couldn’t tell you what a résumé is. Her cheeks hollow. My eyes roll back.

“What…” I drag in air. “What would you say is your greatest strength?”

She slides off me and rests the head of my cock against her bottom lip while she thinks about it. Her hand keeps pumping very slowly.

“I’m good with my hands. I believe you noted that during my preliminary assessment.” She squeezes on the upstroke. I grunt. “And I’m thorough. I never leave a job half done.”

“That’s…good. That’s what we…fuuuck…look for.”

She licks a stripe up the underside, from my balls to the tip, then sucks one of my balls into her mouth and tongues it while her fist twists over the head. I say something. It isn’t a word. Then she’s back on my cock, bobbing faster now, her tits swaying, her tight nipples brushing my thighs.

I’m panting like I’ve flown the length of the island.

She lifts her head. “What else do you need to know?”

“How do you handle…working under pressure?”

“I’m great at it.” Her thumb circles the slit, and my stomach muscles jump. “I handle pressure just fine. The trick is to relax, breathe through your nose, and take it all the way down deep.”

She shows me by deep-throating my cock.

She holds my eyes and sinks onto me, past where she stopped before, and keeps going until the head of my cock nudges the back of her throat. Then she swallows, her throat squeezes around me, and a sound rips out of me that the front desk is going to hear about.

“Fuck! Star…holy shit…”

She eases back, pulls a breath in through her nose, and does it again.