My Best Friend's Brother(4)

By: Amy Brent

I could tell the way she was staring at me all through the interview, and while she thought she held her blush back perfectly, she really didn’t. I got the perfect glimpse of her milky skin reddening at my little comment at the beginning of the show. The more I talked and the more her eyes raked over me, the more her pupils dilated, and it only confirmed that the lust I felt for her was reciprocated.

I wanted her, and I always got what I wanted.

She shook my hand after the show, taking a picture with me she would no doubt use to promote the show when it aired. My hand descended into the slope of her waist, my fingertips pressing into the slight excess that coated her body. She was soft underneath my fingertips. Warm to the touch. Her head barely came up to my chest, the perfect height for getting down on those powerful knees of hers and sucking the life out of my cock.

I thanked her for her time, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss before I watched her hips sway in her skirt as she walked off.

Fuck, that woman was sexy.

I left my information with her assistant. I knew I’d hear from her. They always called. Once they felt the brush of Mason Baker’s lips against their skin, all they wanted to know was what they would feel like pressing against their bodies. She was probably wondering what my lips would feel like in between her legs as her thick thighs glistened with her luscious juices.

She didn’t have to worry, though, because I wanted to taste her on the tip of my tongue.

No woman had denied me before, but they certainly didn’t deny me now. I was known for the size of my cock as well as my attentiveness in bed. When you’re good at something, you do it to the best of your ability. My father had taught me that. He told me growing up that I wouldn’t get anywhere in life being mediocre at a talent I was given. At the time, I was good with my tongue, so I used it. Then my cock grew, a gift given to me by the gods themselves, so I learned how to use it well.

Then, I found my passion in technology and programming, so I studied to be the best.

And now? I was rich. Filthy rich. And famous. Disgustingly famous. Now, women could have it all with me. Money. Cars. Jewelry. Vacation homes. Pussy-licking orgasms that rendered them speechless as well as a cock they could feel in their throat the moment I staked their hips onto mine.

Yep. I’d be hearing from Sarah Williams very soon indeed.

I buttoned my coat up and waved to the paparazzi waiting for me at the door. I climbed into my car and told the driver to take me to Al Biernat’s. I was meeting Tony for a decent lunch so we could talk about the interview and where we were going from here. Tony and I tag-teamed the interviews. I did some so he could rest, then he did some so I could rest. I did the more high-end and upscale interviews, and the lower-level ones that simply wanted information on the product Tony did. He didn’t want to be the face of the company, which was fine with me.

I adored being the ever-so-handsome face of our growing technological empire.

I walked into the restaurant and found Tony, watching him rise from his seat as we embraced one another in a hug. I heard a few people gasping and snapping pictures, but the general manager soon came over and told them to cut it out.

“Let’s make a donation to this place, shall we?” I asked.

“You liked that the men told them to shut up, didn’t you?” Tony asked.

“We need some privacy somewhere. They should be rewarded for going over the top,” I said.

“Donation noted. How did the interview go?”

“It went really well. It wasn’t a live interview, so I’m not sure what’ll be edited out, but Sarah Williams isn’t known for doctoring up her interviews to meet a specific agenda,” I said.

“That’s good. We’ve run into a few issues with that, especially with the syndicates that are harping on your lawsuits.”

“Are we really talking about those again? Look, the woman who accused me of harassment was lying. We proved that. The other woman, the one I supposedly had gotten pregnant? Never even seen her. She submitted to a paternity test. I went along with it to prove my innocence, and the charges were dropped because the kid’s not mine. What gives?” I asked.

“You know there are people out there who don’t care that the charges were dismissed. We have to do damage control on your image as much as we can.”

“If you’re asking me to not date in the public eye, sorry,” I said.

“If you could tone it down a bit, that would be nice,” he said.

“Not a chance. Look, there are three things in life I love, a good slab of steak, a good slab of technology, and a good slab of woman. We didn’t work our asses off for a hundred and fifty-seven million in revenue to hide and cower away. We’re working hard, and we deserve to play hard.”