“Don’t start with me, Rex. I was never cut out for this kind of bullshit.”
“That’s an understatement,” he smirks.
“You’re going to punish me for that? For just having a general complete lack of charisma? I don’t think that’s something you’re going to be able to beat into me.”
“I’m not going to beat you,” he says. “But there are inevitably going to be consequences for being anything less than Eschaton’s perfect saleswoman.”
“We should just get the hell out of here,” I sigh as we walk, hand in hand, back to our apartment, which is apparently very nice and I don’t care at all.
“I’m working on it. If you can at least pretend to give half a fuck about these endorsements, it’s going to be a lot easier.”
“I am trying. I care a thousand times less than I seem to.”
“Kristine…” he growls my name in that deep and sexy way which never fails to charge my libido.
“Yes, my king?”
“Kristine, you are trouble,” he growls, crawling over me like the massive predator he is. He presses his lips to mine and kisses me deeply, transporting me back to the days when he and I were lost in a world of our own.
I want him inside me. I want to forget everything all over again. I want him to take me and make me his, the way I need to be his. I feel no relief at no longer being at the mercy of predatory dinosaurs. The sentient predators are far worse. They want more than my flesh. They want my soul.
Rex kisses and caresses me, his hands running the length of my body in a slow, massaging motion. I shed my clothes and my cares along with them and lie upon the sheets, those markers of all civilization, and I wait for him to claim me completely. My thighs part for his hands, my lips ready for his kiss, and his cock.
“Make me feel good,” I moan softly as he drops light kisses along my belly button, down over the soft swell of my body and to the apex of my thighs where his talented mouth finds my sex. My fingers curl in the sheets as he starts to feast on me with the hunger of a king.
“You taste like heaven,” he growls against my lips, using his tongue to play around the hard little bud of my clit.
I love this. Sex has always been our place for escape. It’s our own little world. It belongs to us, no matter who might be watching.
A knock at the door interrupts my pleasure. Neither one of us get up to get it, but it turns out that it doesn’t matter, because the guy just walks right the fuck in.
“King Rex, Eschaton seeks an audience with you. He wishes to discuss some pressing business.”
“NO!” He roars the word.
“Eschaton insists. He will come here himself if you would not come to him.”
“GODS. NO.”
“Just go,” I sigh. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You better not,” he growls, pressing a rough, possessive kiss to my mouth, leaving me swooning with desire.
I watch his taut, muscular ass disappear beneath the covering of his pants and mourn its loss as he leaves.
* * *
Rex
My cock is throbbing inside my pants. This asshole has a habit of interrupting me at the worst of times, but I am trying to keep him somewhat happy. I have been working on an exit strategy for some time, and I’m trying to keep it discreet. Even with a vast amount of riches, doing anything in this world without Eschaton knowing is almost impossible.
“What can I do for you, Eschaton?”
“We need to talk business. You are a king of many riches. Even more so since your jaunt in the Dinodome. So you understand that we speak as rich men.”
I understand absolutely nothing besides I really want to go sink myself ten inches deep inside the woman I love. It’s hard to pay attention to what Eschaton is babbling about. He has a roundabout way of speaking which inevitably returns to his ego over and over again.
“I have a lot of money, and wealth, and riches,” he says. “But I can always have more. Indeed, if I do not have more, I very much risk having less, if you know what I mean.”
“I…”
“One is either expanding or contracting. Staying the same is not an option. All things are in flux, Rex. Change is eternally upon us. Do we ride the waves to the next crest of wealth? Or do we allow ourselves to be driven to the depths of poverty?”
If he doesn’t come to something resembling a point soon, I think I might actually kill him just to shut him up.
“What is it I can help you with?”
“Revenues are lower than anticipated. The human is less charming than we imagined, and no amount of airbrushing and edits can change that. She’s just not… likable. At least, not out here. She was far more lucrative inside the simulation.”