She parted her lips, her tongue darting out to wet them before she leaned forward and took me into her mouth. She groaned, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through my entire frame as she began to work, her hands reaching up to grip my thighs for leverage.

​"Yes! Keep that!" Sasha's voice cut through the room, sharp and electric. "Camera two, get the profile shot. I want to see the way her cheeks hollow out. Camera three, get the top-down angle from the ladder—show the contrast between his suit and her skin. Druski, look at the lens. Give them that 'Druski stare."

​I looked directly into the main camera, my expression cold and dominant even as the pleasure threatened to break my focus. Sasha was leaning over the monitor, her face illuminated by the blue light, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She wasn't just directing a scene; she was witnessing the birth of an era.

​Evelyn was performing like her life depended on it, her head bobbing in a frantic, desperate rhythm, the sound of her throat working around me filling the space between the heavy breathing of the crew.

The sensation was a total sensory overload. As Evelyn's lips sealed around me, the contrast was immediate—the air in the kitchen was air-conditioned and cool, but the inside of her mouth was a velvet furnace. She was incredibly tight, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock with a rhythmic, practiced suction that felt like it was trying to draw the very soul out of my body.

​Every time she slid down, I could feel the soft heat of her throat beginning to give way, the wet, sliding friction of her saliva coating me in a slick, premium glaze. She was making deep noises, her throat vibrating against my skin as she tried to take every inch of my cock.

​"Hold that," I growled, my voice dropping an octave as the pleasure spiked.

​I didn't let her set the pace for long. I reached down, my fingers tangling deep into her dark, expensive hair, anchoring her head in place. I wasn't asking anymore. I began to thrust, my hips moving in a powerful, measured cadence that forced her head back and forth.

​The sound was raw—the wet, rhythmic slap of my thighs against her cheeks and the frantic, muffled gasps she made as I filled her mouth over and over. I could see her eyes rolling back, her manicured nails digging into the meat of my quads as she struggled to keep up with the intensity of my pace.

​"Camera one, move in!" Sasha's voice was a whip-crack in the silent room. She was standing right over the lead cameraman now, her face flushed with the reflected glow of the monitor. "I want to see the spit, I want to see the hair, I want to see the look in her eyes when he hits the back of her throat. Don't you dare cut away!"

​Sasha was watching me dominate the most famous woman in the valley with a look of pure, professional pride. She knew this was the footage that would make the $200,000 look like a bargain.

​Evelyn was nearing her breaking point, her hands sliding helplessly up my suit-clad legs, her muffled moans turning into desperate whimpers as I increased the speed, pushing the scene toward its chaotic conclusion.

I gripped her shoulders and pulled her up from her knees, her face flushed and her lips glistening with the evidence of what she'd just been doing. I didn't let her rest. I spun her around and laid her back across the cold marble island, her legs dangling over the edge.

​I stood between her knees, I was finally ready to finish the construction. But I wasn't going to give it to her all at once. I took the head of my cock and slowly traced the length of her slit, dragging it through the cream she was producing, listening to her breath hitch in a jagged, desperate rhythm.

​"You've been begging for the foundation, Evelyn," I whispered, leaning down so my lips brushed her ear. "Let's see if you can handle the weight."

​I teased the opening, pushing in just a fraction of an inch before pulling back, over and over, until her hips were arching off the marble, searching for the connection. She was soaking, her body vibrating with a need that the $200k contract couldn't even describe.

​"Please... Druski... now!" she gasped, her fingers digging into the charcoal fabric of my suit sleeves.

​With a single, powerful surge, I drove all the way home.

​Evelyn's head hit the marble with a soft thud as her mouth fell open in a silent scream of pleasure. She was incredibly tight, her walls clenching around me in a rhythmic, desperate welcome. I didn't stop to let her adjust. I began to hammer into her, my suit jacket bunching at my shoulders as I established a brutal, rhythmic pace.

​The sound of the kitchen changed—the wet, heavy thwack of my pelvis hitting her was the only thing that mattered. I looked down at her, watching the gold chains of her bikini dance against her skin with every thrust, watching the way her expensive jewelry clattered against the stone.

​Sasha moved in close, standing right beside the lens, her eyes tracking the way my body moved. "Yes! That's the shot! Look at the power! Evelyn, wrap your legs around his waist—show us how much you want him to stay!"

​Evelyn obeyed instantly, her heels locking behind my back, pulling me even deeper into her heat. We were no longer filming a scene; we were a force of nature in the middle of a Beverly Hills kitchen.

Every time I drove forward, the impact echoed off the vaulted ceilings. My charcoal suit jacket was stretched tight across my shoulders as I maintained a relentless, punishing pace, burying every inch of myself into her heat.

​Evelyn wasn't the "Ice Queen" anymore. She was completely unraveled, her head lolling back as she gripped the edge of the marble island so hard her knuckles turned white. As I hit the back of her throat earlier, she had been muffled, but now, with me deep inside her, she found her voice—and it was filthy.

​"Oh god, yes... take it all, you arrogant bastard," she groaned, her voice a jagged rasp that sent a jolt of adrenaline straight to my gut. "Break me... show my brother and this whole damn house what a real man looks like. I want to feel every bit of that King energy. Make me scream for that two hundred grand!"

​She was leaning into the role of the submissive heiress, her dirty talk fueling the fire. "I've had a hundred men in this house, but none of them... none of them... have ever owned me like this. Use me, Druski. Finish inside me and let everyone know who the architect is!"

​"Camera two, get the audio! I want every word she says!" Sasha shouted, her voice ringing with professional triumph. She was standing inches away now, her eyes bright with the thrill of the shoot. "Keep going, Druski! Don't let up! Evelyn, tell him what he is! Tell the camera what he's doing to you!"

​I leaned down, my chest pressing against her breasts, the gold chains of her bikini digging into my shirt. I caught her ear between my teeth, my breath hot and heavy. "You want to talk about ownership, Evelyn? This isn't a renovation. This is a hostile takeover."

​The pace became frantic. The wet slap of skin on marble, her vocal filth, and the steady whir of the high-end cameras created a symphony of high-tier production. I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine.

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