Page 33 of Billionaire's Second Chance

"More than you know," I said, then leaned over her breasts and held one of them toward my lips. Its nipple waited eagerly for my tongue. I felt it harden as I licked circles around it and then sucked it in.

Ava moaned louder, tilting her head back, her hair brushing over the top of the bar.

The tightness in my pants was becoming unbearable. But I wanted this to last longer. I paused, retrieved my fingers from her groins, and licked them, tasting her essence.

"Come, this can't be very comfortable," I helped her off the barstool and examined her naked body under the dim light of my movie room. She was flawless.

I held her hand and walked her to a front-row seat before the 16:9 feet movie screen.

"I want you to enjoy the show," I smiled as I slid her panties off and watched her naked ass sit on the plush chair. I knelt before her, spread her legs, brushed my hair back, and buried my face between her pulsating thighs.

Her hands gripped the armrests of the chair as moan after moan escaped her lungs. Her long legs hung over my shoulders, and I felt them shaking the closer she got to climaxing. One of my hands loosened its grip from her inner thigh and crawled up to her breasts to play with her nipples. Her moans now turned into screams, and her chest moved up and down as her breathing intensified.

"Damon! I'm almost there, don't stop!" She begged as my tongue played with her clitoris.

I wasn't planning on stopping. Not until she shook with intense pleasure, her eyes rolled back, and her juices filled my mouth. Then I stopped, pulled back, and looked at her face. Her cheeks had flushed with excitement, her mouth remained open, and her eyes danced in their sockets with ecstasy.

***

It had been three weeks since I'd last seen or heard from Ava. The air on set tasted of mint, hairspray, and lipstick, with occasional whiffs of dust filling my nostrils.

On the first day, trailers lined the open field, with dozens of crew members moving about, voices overlapping with the indistinct cast chatter in the background.

“Hello, Dad.” My fingers relaxed around my phone.

“Busy first day?” He asked on the other end of the line.

He seemed more relaxed than the last time we spoke. Quinn must have told him all about the new cast.

“You know how it is. Everyone needs to be properly inducted,” I elaborated.

“I used to enjoy the first days the most," my father reminisced. "Is Sandy doing okay?”

I looked around. Sandy was hollering orders to about a dozen crew hands at once. Even from this distance, I could make out his bald head and shirt that struggled to stay buttoned up. The crew members dared not protest while he spoke. Aside from his poor fashion sense, Solomon ‘Sandy’ Garfield was one of the most ruthless directors in Hollywood.

“Yeah. I can’t say the same about his crew. Someone might be sobbing before the end of the day,” I joked lightly.

“They’ll get used to it,” my father confirmed.

I turned away from Sandy and his crew, heading for the rows of trailers lined at the edge of the set. Harry stood a few paces from Sandy’s crew with a phone pressed against his ears. He was clearly looking for someone. I hoped it wasn't me, so I pulled the front of my baseball cap slightly over my eyes.

“How’s our new lead?” My father blurted out.

“Why didn’t you start with that?” I mocked him.

“No need to be crass, Damon. I’m just a concerned father looking out for his son.” I could sense a condescending smile spreading over his face.

And your reputation, I bet.

“I have to go now, Dad. Talk to you later.” I hung up, taking in deep breaths to calm my nerves.

Gravel grated under my feet as I approached my destination—Ava's trailer. Laughter trickled from the open window, and I walked even faster.

“Damon, I almost didn’t recognize you. Robert—” Harry approached me.

Laughter flowed from Ava's trailer again, followed by a deep husky voice.

“Could we do this later, Harry? Please,” I scoffed, walking past him.

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