Degradation (12 page)

“However long it takes for you to realize who the winner will always be,” Jameson replied.

Before she could respond, there was a loud knock at the door. She didn't move, kept her eyes locked to his, her hand an inch away from his crotch. He stared back, a smile spreading across his face. He looked like the devil. She suddenly got nervous.

Oh no.

“Who is that?” she asked, when there was another knock.

“I forgot, a business associate is stopping by, just to go over some stuff,” Jameson explained. His voice was too soft, too easy going. Tate leaned back, sitting on her heels.

“Oh. Okay. Want me to leave?” she offered, confused. He shook his head.

“No, you can stay in here. In fact, I have a wonderful idea,” he started.

Now she was really nervous.

“Oh god. What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the door.

“
You want two-thousand, five hundred dollars. You have to prove to me that you're worth it,” he said.

“I thought we were doing that,” she pointed out. He laughed.

“Too easy! Now you've got me worried. A handjob in my library? Don't I even get Arby's?” he joked. She smacked him on the chest.

“Shut up,” she growled. He lurched forward in his chair, his face a couple inches away from her own.

“Mr. Greene is going to walk in here, in about two minutes. We are going to go over some property info – he's buying my farm in Vermont. If you can make me come, before he leaves the room, I will agree to your salary,” Jameson offered.

She stared at him. A little shocked. A little surprised. A lot intrigued.
Make him come?
While another man was in the room? How was she going to do that? How had they gone from drinks and light banter, to acts of sexual indecency in front of a virtual stranger?

“You want me to jack you off in front of some dude,” Tate clarified. Jameson roared with laughter.

“God, no, I have long since out grown any sort of voyeuristic phase. You have about one minute,” he warned her, as there was another knock at the door.

Her breathing picked up. She wasn't even thinking about the money. The look on his face said he thought she couldn't do it. She wanted to wipe it off his face. She smirked at him and moved, swinging her legs towards him. He had to roll his chair away as she scooted to the edge of the desk and hopped off, standing in the V of his legs. Jameson raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as she lowered herself to her knees. She backed herself under the desk – it was huge, with enough space for her to almost fully kneel under it. She grabbed his knees, dug her fingernails in, and urged him forward. He rolled towards her.

“There has to be rules. You can't purposefully stop me, no hair pulling,” she stated, staring up at him while she undid his belt buckle.

“You'd like it if I pulled your hair,” he retorted. Tate rolled her eyes, wiggling her hand through the zipper of his pants.

“You know what I mean.”

There was a loud knock, and then she heard the door sweep open. Jameson rolled forward, and she was left in the dark, just a little glow from the fire making its way under the desk. She yanked and pulled at the waist of his jeans, listening as another man came in the room, greeted Jameson, and sat down across from the desk.

Their only time together, Tate hadn't gotten to see, or even really feel, his dick. It had just been inside of her.
So much
inside of her. He was larger than she remembered. She had slept with quite a few men since him, and he still managed to be the most impressive, in almost every way.

She ran her hand up and down his shaft, resting her other hand against his thigh. She was hoping to feel tense skin, maybe a muscle tick. Something to show he was struggling. But his legs were relaxed, and even though she was jerking him off, his voice sounded completely normal as he spoke. Almost bored sounding.

We can change that.

Tate hadn't been lying, blowjobs were a kind of specialty of hers. She loved the act. Having so much power over a man, but at the same time, being completely subjugated by him. An illusion of control. She loved it, and doing it in public? If Jameson didn't wanna have sex after she was done, she was going to take care of herself, right on his desk.

She licked him from top to bottom, taking her time at first. When she wrapped her lips around his head, she finally felt a muscle in his thigh tense. She almost smiled, bobbing her head up and down a little. Getting a feel for him. She removed her hand from his leg, wrapped it around the base of his dick, and then worked it up and down to cover the distance. She didn't know how long his meeting would last. It almost sounded more like a social call, with a smattering of property talk. She would love to draw it out for him, have him panting and sweating, but she didn't want to lose the game.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she went for gold and lowered her mouth all the way down on him. When his tip hit the back of her mouth and started to slide down her throat, she finally heard his voice hitch.
Victory
. She slowly worked her mouth off of him, and then plunged right back again. He coughed to cover up a stutter. With him fully sheathed in her mouth, she ran one hand up between his legs, rolling her fingers around his sack. He coughed again and she backed off.

Finish this.

She began pumping away, working her hand and mouth up and down his dick. Every up sweep, she swirled her tongue around his head. Every down sweep, she squeezed his testicles. Then she would switch it up. Take a couple deep throats. Then back to bobbing and sucking.

Tate could hear it in his voice, he was having trouble. She felt a hand on the back of her head, and his fingers worked their way in to her hair. Twisted and pulled. Not enough to pull her away, but enough for her to feel him. She let out a small, breathy moan, dug her fingernails in to his thighs.

“Well, John, it's kinda late, and I have some work I need to do upstairs,” she heard Jameson say in a loud voice.

Cheating! He can't ask him to leave! Cheater!

Tate redoubled her efforts, pulled all her tricks out of the bag. Unsheathed her teeth, skimmed them against his skin. She heard him hiss at that one. Took him on the inside of her cheek, running the sensitive tip against the sides of her molars. He gave a full body shudder then. Then she ran her tongue over every inch of his nuts.

His voice was getting strained, his muscles were all tensing. He wasn't going to last much longer. She could hear Jameson trying to get the guy to leave. She ran her free hand up his leg, over his waist, and started up his stomach. When her fingertips were visible over the desk, his hand let go of her hair and grabbed at her fingers. Pressed his hand flat over them, against his stomach. She dug her claws in and raked the hand back down. More tension in his legs. He was breathing heavy, and through his t-shirt, she could feel sweat.

I'm going to win. I'm going to win. I'm going to -,

“It's almost eleven o'clock at night, John. Go the fuck home so I can go to bed,” Jameson suddenly barked out.

She was enraged. The cheating bastard. Tate went to pull away, but his hand was back in her hair, forcing her head down on him. She moaned, loudly this time, and then both his hands were in her hair, holding her in place. She braced her hands against either side of the dresser, taking shaky breaths through her nose.

When the door to the library banged shut, he let go of her. She all but spit him out, pushing at his knees and forcing him backwards. She quickly climbed to her feet and glared down at him, but he just grinned up at her.

“Goddamn, Tate, you weren't fucking around. You do that like it's your job,” Jameson laughed, sounding proud of her. She put her hands on her hips.

“You cheated!” she snapped at him. He ignored her and climbed to his feet, tucking his hard on back in to his pants.

“It wasn't ever actually your job, was it? Walking tours with a happy ending?” he joked.

“
You cheated. You made him leave. I had you, and you
cheated
,” Tate repeated herself. He stepped up close to her.

“
I said you had to do it before he left the room. I didn't say when or how that was going to happen. Should've worked harder for it,” he told her.

“
Are you
fucking kidding me?
” she growled. He ran a finger down her cheek.

“Think of how much better it will be when I'm an active participant,” he said. She shook her head.

“You'll be lucky if there ever is a next time,” she spat out.

“
So let's see. How does ...,
one-thousand, five hundred
a week sound,” Jameson said it out loud, but sounded more like he was talking to himself as he reached around her, sifting through some papers.

“Oh no. The price just went up to four thousand,” Tate informed him. He laughed, long and loud.

“Now that's a fucking joke. I wouldn't give you four thousand dollars a week if you needed it for a kidney transplant. You suck cock like a champion, but no mouth is worth four thousand,” he laughed at her. Tate got so close, her chest was brushing against his own.

“
My mouth is
. You can agree, or I can walk out the door,” she told him, her voice low and angry.

It wasn't about the money. Tate would be there even if he hadn't offered to pay. It was about winning. Beating him at his own game. Getting him to admit that she was an equal, that she could turn him inside out, the same way he did to her.

“You're not going anywhere, baby girl. We have unfinished business.”

Baby girl.

“That's not my fault,” she replied.

“Seems to me it is; if you were better at your job,” Jameson said. She laughed.

“Doesn't matter how good I am, if what I have to work with,
doesn't work right,
” she taunted.

His hand was in her hair in a second, pulling at the base of her skull. She was yanked forward and was completely flush against him, her chin almost resting on his clavicle. His other hand went to her waist, his fingers hooking in to her dress and her flesh. Her hands flew to his chest, to brace herself.

“You better watch what you say to me,” he warned her in a soft voice. She chuckled, her eyes watering a little from the sting of her hair being pulled.

“
Or what,
Kane?
” she pushed him. His lips tilted up in a soft, sly smile.

“
You're so fucking stupid, Tate. You still think we're playing a game.
Stupid bitch
. What did I say about calling me Kane? You've said it
thirteen times
. I said I would punish you,” Jameson threatened.

This is what I've been waiting for.

“You keep saying that, but I've yet to see anything happen. I think you're all talk,
Kane.
”

He spun her around and bent her over, slamming her down on the desk. She let out a grunt – that might leave a bruise. She reached back, pulling at the hand he had in her hair. He let go, but only to grab her wrist. He pinned it down on her back, and then grabbed her other wrist, joining it with the first. He held them together with one hand, pressing down on her so hard, it was uncomfortable to breathe. She tried to turn her head, and her chin dug in to the wood of the desk.

“Such a fucking child, Tate. Fucking games. Do I look like the kind of guy who plays games?” he was hissing behind her, his free hand raking up her thigh and pushing her dress up over her ass.

“You're the one who keeps playing them. You're the one who -,” she started when his hand crashed down across her ass. She gasped.

“
This
is not a game. You would do well to remember the difference,” Jameson growled. She laughed again, and was almost amazed by her own bravado.

“
Maybe you should write me out a
game plan,
so I can know when you are, and when you aren't, playing around and -,”

His hand was so heavy, she knew he was going to leave a mark. Six slaps. She was crying out by the end, writhing under his grip. She didn't want to play the game anymore. She wanted him inside of her.

He knew what she needed, just like before; just like always, probably. He let go of her wrists and she gripped onto the edge of the desk, next to her head. He was rough as he yanked her underwear down, not even bothering to push them past her knees. He kicked her feet wider apart and she could feel the material pull. Wondered if they'd rip.

Then he was pushing inside of her. She let out a long moan, raising up onto her tip toes, trying to accommodate all of him in one go. She wiggled her hips against him, and then he was pressed completely against her. Solid, warm flesh, inside and out. She let out a deep breath, her whole body starting to shake. He leaned down against her.

“Still feel like a game?” Jameson whispered, his voice full of disdain. Tate laughed and laid her cheek against the desk.

I'm such a glutton ...,

“I don't know. Can't really feel much of anything at all,” she said back in a raspy voice.