His Nasty Little Pussy

BRADY

I told myself sex on the couch with Tess was a mistake. After all, I was the one who’d been so adamant about avoiding a relationship that mixed personal and business. I convinced myself that what had happened was just the result of a heated private moment alone, the first one since the award ceremony.

An hour later, when I lifted her onto the marble countertop of the kitchen and ate her pussy until her juices flowed into my mouth, I justified it as oral sex, not penetration.

But when our naked bodies became tangled into the bedsheets of the master suite, I couldn’t deny it a second longer.

My hands cupped her cheeks, drawing her toward me. As our mouths melded together, she took hold of my tongue with her lips, sucking on it like candy. My cock hardened, my erection rising between her legs, her pussy juices soaking me.

There was no denying my physical attraction to her. Her toned muscles rippled across her perfect frame, her plump breasts perky and round. She rolled me onto my back, a teasing smile stretching across her face as she removed her hair tie. Her golden waves dropped in an s-shaped curve, framing her tanned face. Fuck! She is perfect.

I’d fucked models, actresses, women who were aware of their beauty and used it to their advantage to get what they wanted. Tess was different. She was gorgeous-there was no doubting that-but her beauty was not what defined her.

I tucked her hair behind her ears, shook my head, and sighed.

“What?” she grinned.

“You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”

Redness rushed to her cheeks, and her eyes dropped to the mattress. “You don’t have to say that to me just because we found ourselves naked together again, Brady.”

“That’s not why I’m saying that… not at all,” I said.

“I know I’m not a model,” she continued, her voice low.

I scratched my beard. “You’re beyond that. Because you built a life that wasn’t based on your looks. You actually had to develop a personality,” I laughed. “And not just that, but you’re so smart. It’s intimidating.”

She scoffed. “I’m intimidating? You can’t be serious. You’re Brady Wyler.”

I rolled my eyes. “And you are a genius intellect who invented a product women will appreciate and love for decades to come.” A smile pressed across her cheeks.

“Yeah, you mean a product only your mom likes,” she laughed.

I trailed a finger down her cheek. “Well, when my job is done, your name will be more famous than mine.”

She rolled her eyes and blushed. “Not if we keep fucking. Then we’ll never get anything done.”

It dawned on me why I found her so attractive. Her intelligence and her inquisitive mind breathed life into her, giving way to her motivations. It was a rare quality I hadn’t experienced before. Tess was incomparable.

“Business can wait,” I whispered, propping myself up in the bed so that my body hovered over her. I kissed her neck, my tongue drawing a line from the nape of her ear toward her collarbone. A slow moan vibrated out of her throat, her mouth opening and her eyes closing. She lifted her hips, pressing her pelvis against my erection, gyrating against me.

“I want you,” she whispered.

A deep growl escaped through my clenched teeth. I gripped my cock in my hand and guided it to her entrance, her warmth inviting me in. The muscles of her pussy tightened, choking my dick as it disappeared inside her.

Her back arched, nipples hardening as a moan escaped her throat. Her legs wrapped around my back, and with sudden force, she shoved off the mattress and twisted us around. With my dick still inside her, I landed on my back on the mattress, her legs straddling me.

She pressed her hands against my chest, balancing against me as she repositioned herself so that she was crouched above me, one leg on either side of my body in a squat position. Then she eased herself down onto my cock, accepting the full girth of my member as blood rushed to my erection.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

I’d had women ride me in the past, but not quite like this. I typically still carried a modem of control when that happened, either guiding their speed or cupping their ass to lift them above me as I pounded them from below. Out of habit, I pressed my hands against her hips, my nails digging into her skin.

To my surprise, she grabbed my wrists and pinned my arms above my head, her fingers interlacing with mine as she pushed the back of my hands into the pillow.

She leaned down, her cheek pressing against mine. “Let me fuck you,” she whispered, her tongue flicking my earlobe.

Reorienting herself on top of me, she released me. Using my chest as a base to ride my cock, she pressed her hands against my pecs with the force of someone giving me CPR. Her squats gained momentum as she took control, her soaked pussy slathering my shaft. With each lift, she raised just enough for the tip of my cock to feel a breeze but never enough for it to slip out. It felt absolutely magical.

And then down she went like a collapsing elevator, dropping at inconceivable speed until it slammed into the base, ripping the breath out of me. As much as I wanted to, I resisted the urge to grab her, watching in awe as she continued like that, grinding me with such speed and consistency.

Fuck, she is so fit to keep this momentum.

The only thing more impressive than her stamina was the strength of her smooth and toned quad muscles.

She tossed her head back, her dirty blonde hair cascading down her back, her firm nipples aiming at the vaulted ceiling. Goosebumps rippled down her shoulders and arms, lifting the hair on her smooth skin. She cried out, the moan vibrating all the way down to my cock.

With a sudden lurch, she fell from the soles of her feet to her knees, her arms scooping under the back of my neck as she shifted on top of me, her forehead pressing into the crevasses of my neck, her body hugging mine like Velcro.

I’d never experienced this angle before, and a ripple of muscle inside her pussy sucked at the tip of my cock like a vacuum suctioning me into her depths. The fluidity of her momentum never changed. If anything, it increased.

As my cock glided faster against the roof of her pussy, a super-charged sensitivity overcame me. Panting, I gripped the pillowcase, my fingers intertwining with the fabric.

I knew this sensation all too well…but it was impossible.

Never in my life had I come from a woman riding me on top.

Not more than five seconds after having the thought, the urgency of the moment crashed into me. My heart skipped about a dozen beats, and my moan vibrated every muscle in my body, my toes clenching as I emptied the entirety of my soul into her.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered, tightening her legs around me, shoving her pussy even deeper onto my cock.

As my orgasm drifted, I finally touched her, lifting my hands from the pillow to caress her back. She lifted her chin off my neck, her gaze drilling into me with lust. Sweat drenched her, droplets percolating on her forehead and turning her dirty blonde hair brown, strands sticking to her cheek.

I tucked her waves behind her ears and shook my head.

“God dammit.” “What?” she laughed.

I sighed. “You are something else.”

A smile appeared on her face, and it was unlike any other smile I’d seen her give, the grin curving a deep U across her face and lighting a fire inside her eyes. Her skin glowed like a firefly glittering in the darkness. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

She removed herself from my erection and curled up next to me, her warmth refreshing. I rolled on my side and slid my fingers into her hair, cupping her cheek and bringing her face to meet mine. The pillowy, fullness of her lips stirred a warm sensation in my chest, tightening on strings I had forgotten existed.

A singular thought weaved between the folds of my brain, and once it appeared, it latched on like a parasite taking control. I couldn’t shake it, even if I tried.

Fuck my previous rules.

I respected Tess for her mind, but I yearned for her body. Maybe we could work together and play together. Who said those two things had to be mutually exclusive? I had said that. But I was an adult, for fucks sake. I could break my own rules.

There had to be a way that I could have both, that the two sides of her could intersect into my life, that I could make this work between us.

I held onto that image as we drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the vibration of my phone startled me awake, and Rich’s name appeared on the screen. My eyes flickered open, my hand stretching across the empty bed beside me. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my phone, and crossed the suite to the half-open door.

Soft jazz music played from a speaker in the kitchen, and I spotted Tess at the stove, her back toward me, humming as she shook a frying pan. I eased the door shut and answered Rich’s call.

“Yeah?” I mumbled.

“So,” he said. “How’d the photo shoot go? You get the money shot?”

I stifled a groan. “Not exactly.”

Rich hesitated. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly?'”

“I mean, I’m working on it,” I hissed. “Quincy’s a dick and not someone I have any intention of working with again.”

“Brady…” Rich whispered. “You asked me to schedule a meeting with the top advertisers to show them the marketing plan. They’re meeting in

New York in two days.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m aware. I’ll get the shot.” I just needed a model and a camera…but I didn’t need to tell Rich that.

Rich’s voice deepened. “Please tell me that you at least got her to sign the contract, Brady.”

I glanced at my suitcase in the corner of the room, the unsigned contract packed inside.

“Yep, we’re good on that front,” I lied.

“Good,” Rich said. “Send me a screenshot when you get a chance, and I’ll put it in my files. We’ll need the hardcopy before we meet with the advertisers. And Meredith agreed to come.”This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Shit,” I whispered. Meredith Plier was the best of the best. She had a reputation for skyrocketing her products into success. I’d never gotten her to agree to one of my products, and while I obviously didn’t need the money, it was a personal goal I’d always aimed to acquire. “I’ll be there.” “Brady, breakfast!”

“Whose that?” Rich asked.

“It’s no one,” I quickly said.

“You better not let some one-night stand distract you and fuck this up,” Rich warned.

“Bye, Rich.”

I hung up before he could utter one more concern that would fuel my anxiety and send me spiraling downward into a labyrinth of what-if scenarios. Thus far in my career, I’d never been this reckless. I was methodical in my planning, always prepared for my meetings.

Something about Tess had muddled my brain, fogging my decisionmaking ability. Not only had I waived the starter’s fee normally required by my company, but I’d also asked her to become a partner, and I’d crossed the sex boundary I’d promised myself not to cross again. And I had less than forty-eight hours to prepare an outline to sell Perkins Formula to the advertisers.

And yet, somehow, I wasn’t worried. I couldn’t explain the feeling of certainty inside me that this would all work out in the end.

I opened the bedroom door as a flume of smoke erupted from the frying pan, the burnt bacon sizzling in the bubbly oil.

“Fuck,” Tess hissed, spinning around, her back to me, as she dropped the pan in the sink.

I stared at her, entranced. One of my blue long sleeve work shirts was draped over her frame like a mini dress. The hem of the shirt lifted, rising up just enough to reveal her lacy white panties and the supple curve of her ass. The right collar of the shirt dipped down her arm, and strands of her hair slipped half haphazardly out of her loose bun, spilling across her bare shoulder.

The urge hit me like a divine whisper from above.

I’d been going about this completely the wrong way. Here I was asking models to represent Perkins Formula. Stick-thin women who counted every calorie, who went under the knife to look perfect, who were born being told they were beautiful and grew up believing their looks were all they had.

That was the message that sold products to the insecure, not the message that sold success to the masses.

An image suddenly appeared in my mind. A beautiful woman, unaware of her beauty, not craving perfection because she understands that perfection does not exist in real life.

Here in front of me was everything I had been looking for.

I pulled out my phone at the same moment Tess realized I was standing beside her. Half laughing, half smiling, she looked back at me, and I snapped the photo, capturing the expression on her face, natural, genuine.

Burnt bacon in the sink, unbrushed hair. And a cream to soothe those worried lines and give women one less thing to fret about.

Tess Perkins, the inventor of Perkins Formula. Not perfect, but pretty close to it.