Seduced by the Screenwriter

Chapter 13, Power is the Great Aphrodisiac, Part 13

MATURE CONTENT

Chapter 13

Power is the great aphrodisiac – Henry A. Kissinger

Scant minutes later, Chett lay spread-eagled and gloriously naked on the bed, both wrists handcuffed to the painted antique iron spindle headboard. The soulful voices of Laura Pausini and Andrea Bocelli, suave Italian tenor, surged through the speakers in the living room.

Crouched on the bed at his hip, Catrina trailed a finger along the centerline dip in his abs, down to his groin. No tan line. "Do you sunbathe nude?" The finger curved up the length of his baton-stiff member.

He inhaled, then blew out on a breath the demand, "Take off your clothes."

"We wouldn't want the fun to be over too quickly, now would we?" She licked her finger and circled the sensitive tip.

Through gritted teeth, he warned, "If you keep this up, I can't control the outcome."

She snickered at the wordplay. "I'll take it slow."

He caught her twisted grin and flung his head onto the pillow. "You plan to torture me."

"I'm merely interested in seeing how long you can last before—"

"Blast-off?"

"Precisely." It would not do to stimulate him beyond the point of no return. Yet. Time for a diversion. "Women's nipples are incredibly sensitive. Are yours?" Her lips encased one tiny bud, then the other.

"I think it depends on the man," he gasped. "And wonder of wonders, I'm one of them. I never knew— I never felt—" He arched his neck and gave himself over to the sensations.

"You're more sensitive than I gave you credit for." She tongue-flicked the closest nipple until it peaked.

"How so?"

"I assumed you were one of those 'all action, all the time' guys."

"Like your co-workers?"

That dart struck home. "Former co-workers. You are nothing like my former Marine Unit colleagues. They live to save the world. In contrast, you entertain the world." She gently nipped a nipple.

"Ouch. That's what writers do. Our job is to enable viewers to escape their lives for a couple of hours."

"Real life sucks sometimes," she agreed. Her mouth descended to encase the end of his wilting shaft. Her tongue massaged the sensitive tip until the length swelled and stretched and stiffened. She withdrew, satisfied with her efforts. "When did you last commit your heart and mind to your job?"

He squirmed. His entrapped wrists rattled the two sets of handcuffs attached to either end of her headboard. "Why the interrogation?"

"Because I can. You don't have a monopoly on the hard questions."

"And if I refuse to answer?" he lashed out, defiant.

She laughed softly, and rubbed her finger over the moist end of the shaft standing at attention. "I start. Stop. Resume. Stop. I don't mind if this takes all night."

He groaned. "You're killing me."

She fisted his member and circled the end with her tongue before inquiring smoothly, "Who or what made you sell out?"