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“It’s just an anniversary lunch.” At least, that’s what you muttered to yourself while putting on your dress. It was gorgeous, hand-picked by Billie herself. Spaghetti straps, the skirt far too short and barely covered anything. It would give your mother a heart attack if she ever saw it. The dress was this beautiful shade of wine red that Billie claimed “matched your eyes”.

You were wearing a matching lace thong that was more like a very expensive piece of string.

Earlier, you had sworn to Billie that it was your anniversary and it shouldn’t end in sex. If you broke the rule, it was a week-long sex ban.

You had to control yourself.

You shouldn’t give in.

You couldn’t give in.

The thought of touching Billie like that sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation already building.

Taking a deep breath, you shook yourself out of it, patiently waiting for Billie to reveal her outfit. She had refused to show it to you last night, claiming it was a “surprise”. You protested, but she was adamant.

And boy was it a surprise. Billie walked out in a formal black and white suit, but the jacket was tailored to fit her waist and the dress pants just a little baggy around the thighs. She looked like the definition of sexy. You almost forgot to breathe.

“Holy shit, ma.” You muttered, putting your hands on her waist. “You look…”

“Stunning?” Billie teased.

“Yeah, yeah, that.” You said, eyes still roaming over her body.

“My eyes are up here, baby.” She tilted your chin up with her finger. “Distracted?”

“A little bit, yeah.” You bit your lip. “Maybe we should stay home.” You murmured, gripping her waist a little tighter.

You were getting distracted. How were you supposed to keep your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was worship her?

“Nuh uh, do you know how hard it is to get a reservation at this restaurant? Besides, did you forget about your promise?” Billie grabbed your hand, practically having to pry your fingers off of her. “Come on, we’re going.”

Billie pulled you in for a quick kiss, but you pulled her back in after she pulled away. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Eilish.” You pressed a kiss onto her cheek, jaw, the corner of her lip, and finally her lips.

She blushed, mouth opening and then closing. You took that as an invitation to kiss her again, cupping her cheek.

Billie broke away for air, ears red and lipstick a little smudged. You swiped the imperfection with your finger, applying it to your own lips.

“Let’s go.” You took her hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

Billie’s chauffeur was waiting for her to take the two of you to the restaurant. Billie opened the door for you, muttering “subs first.” You hit her arm lightly, but got in anyway. The first time you had been in this car, the chauffeur tried to open the door for you, Billie glared at him, and told him that it was her job to open the door for you, not his. Even though it actually is his job.

Billie got in after you, closing the door behind her. The drive there would take over thirty minutes, so you were in for a long ride.

Twelve minutes in, you two were both on your phones when Billie shifted closer, putting her hand on your thigh.

You didn’t pay her much attention, but her hand slowly moved higher and higher, until it was at the seam of your dress.

“Whatchu doin?” You murmured, slightly spreading your thighs out of muscle memory.

“What, can’t touch my girlfriend now?” She smirked. The car suddenly felt hot, almost suffocating.

“You’re doing this on purpose, trying to get me to fuck up.” You moved her hand off your thigh. “But I’m not falling for it.”

Finally, you had reached the restaurant. Somehow, paparazzi had figured out that the two of you would be there. The second Billie walked out behind you, she took off her jacket to wrap around your waist.

Finally, you got into the restaurant, the warmth inside contrasting with the bite of the cold outside. Your waitress led you and Billie to the back corner of the restaurant, farthest away from the paparazzi. Billie pulled out your chair and draped her jacket over your lap, before sitting down herself.

“Your dress is too short.” She said, looking at the menu.

“You picked it.”

“Yeah, for my eyes only.”

“Too bad. We’re both household names. Suck it up.”

“I don’t like people looking at you only wearing that little.”

“Well, maybe I do.”

Billie clenched her jaw, leaning across the table to whisper in your ear.

“Where will this attitude be when you’re begging and crying on my dick tonight?”

You stilled. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your core.

Billie laughed, sitting back down in her chair.

“You can’t- you can’t just say that!” Your cheeks were on fire, just a few shades away from your dress.

“Well, maybe I can.” She shrugged, mocking you.

“Can we talk about something family-friendly? Please?”

The rest of the date went well. At the end, you asked the waitress to take about fifty different Polaroids of you and Billie in various poses. You swear you heard the poor girl breathe a sigh of relief after you said it was over.

On the ride home, you counted them.

“We took like, a hundred dollars worth of Polaroids.”

Billie hummed.

You kept shifting through them, seeing if any one of them was Instagram-worthy.

“Holy shit, look at this one.” You handed her the Polaroid. You were looking at the camera, hand cupping your cheek, and Billie was looking at you with so much love in her eyes that it had been captured in a picture.

Billie handed it back, nodding in approval.

“How do we get the digital copy? I’ll post it on my Instagram.”

“I’ll do it at home.”

At home, you were on the couch, next to Billie, transferring the images from your SD card to her phone.

“There it is, we look so cute hello???” You zoomed in on the picture, squealing when you saw it up close. You looked so good, and Billie looked so whipped.

“You have to post it, my new song would go so well with it.”

“What caption though?”

“I think it’s only suitable that it’s a lyric. Maybe from an old school song?”

Billie thought for a moment. “Can’t take my eyes off of you?”

“Billie Eilish you are a fucking genius, how did I not think of that?”

billieeilish: can’t take my eyes off of you | stream 4u !

Her post instantly blew up, the picture getting spread everywhere. TikTok, Instagram, Pinterest, YouTube, anywhere imaginable, it was there.

finneas: why wasn’t I invited

⤷ you: oops

⤷ billieeilish: is he bothering you, queen?

⤷ finneas: BILLIE WE’RE LITERALLY BLOOD RELATED????

For the rest of the hour, you and Billie did your separate things, showering, working on a song, or just doomscrolling.

Ten pm, Billie stepped under the warm spray of water, just letting the water run down her body for a few minutes. Subconsciously, her hand drifted between her legs. For the entire day, the sexual frustration of seeing you so dolled up but not being able to touch you drove her crazy. Clearly, you were determined to last the day.

She leaned against, and her middle finger started thrusting inside her. It had been a long time since she masturbated. The last time was probably before she got with you, and since then, she has taken out all of her sexual frustration on you. She pictured you in your dress that day, in that tiny lace thing and tiny skirt. Her knees grew weak, and she just resorted to sitting down against the cold, marble shower wall, the water still flowing onto her skin.

As she fingered herself, she rubbed tight circles around her throbbing clit with her thumb. Billie’s moans got louder, and never had she been so grateful that the bathroom wasn’t connected to the bedroom.

She added another finger, tentatively scissoring herself. Her hips jolted so hard at the intrusion that she had to bite down on her lip until she tasted blood to keep quiet. “Fuck… fuckfuckfuckfuck…” Billie muttered, fingers curling inside of herself. She had forgotten how good masturbating felt. Every time she pulled out her fingers, her hips would tilt upwards, chasing them desperately.

She played with her tits, rolling a nipple between her fingers along with her hips, biting down on her tongue. She let out a loud mewling sound as she hit that gummy spot inside her. Clamping a hand over her mouth, embarrassed, she kept targeting that spot, her hips jerking every time she hit it.

Her thrusts grew faster, her breaths more laboured, the knot in her stomach tighter. With a final thrust, Billie came over the shower’s glass door, successfully swallowing what would’ve been a shamefully loud moan. She just sat there, her arousal and cum mixing with the water from the shower. Her pussy was swollen and red, but she still needed more. She needed you.

She first washed off her cum from the glass, then wiped herself down, checking the time. Eleven pm. She had been fingering herself in the shower for at least thirty minutes. Billie got dressed in your expensive cashmere sweaters that were three sizes too big for her and a pair of practically transparent white, lace panties.

The sweater swallowed her, reaching just below her ass. Her arousal was already soaking through the lace. She could feel it.

Walking into the bedroom, she saw you on your MacBook. After that shower, she was feeling… bold. You were just sitting there in the bed, all pretty and innocent.

She climbed over to you, straddling your lap. “Hey.”

You closed your MacBook, surprised. “Is that my sweater?”

She hummed. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Okay, what do you want?” Your hand slid up her thigh, just to realise- “Oh, you’re not wearing shorts.”

She hummed again.

“And you know what I’m feeling tonight?” Billie murmured in your ear, pressing her tits against yours.

“I’m not falling for it, Eilish. I made my promise, and I will follow through.”

She pouted. “You’re no fun.”

She laid next to you under the sheets for fifteen minutes, but the throbbing in her pussy didn’t stop.

“Come on…” Billie whined. “Just once, let me make you feel good baby.”

You shook your head firmly. “Forty more minutes to go.”

She buried her face in your neck, groaning. The last three minutes to twelve am, Billie kept checking her phone. 11:57 PM. 11:58 PM. 11:59 PM. And then-

Billie was on you, kissing you like a starved woman.

You flipped her over so that you were on top. “Need to taste you.” You pulled up her sweater, exposing the soaked lace and swollen pussy. “Did you touch yourself before?”

Tentatively, Billie nodded. “I- in the shower… I couldn’t help myself.”

“Naughty girl…” You pushed her panties to the side, plunging two long, strong fingers into her pussy. “But can your fingers make you feel like this?” You curled them inside her, immediately hitting her spot. Her back bowed off the bed, a whimper falling from her lips.

“That’s what I thought.” You continued thrusting, lowering your mouth onto her angry, swollen clit. You flicked it, sucked on it, bit it, all while fingering her with all you’ve got. You pressed your tongue flat against her clit, feeling it engorge in real time.

“Fuck I- I’m gonna cum-“ You stopped just as she was about to finish, pulling out your fingers.

“That’s what you get for being impatient.”

“What? No! Give me back my orgasm! I was so close…” Her eyes pricked with tears. She looked pathetic, ruined.

“Suck.” You put your fingers in front of her mouth, making her suck off her own arousal.

You fumbled the drawer, but pulled out a strap from inside. “You said you wanna make me feel good, right? Then do it.”

Billie gladly took the strap, putting it on. You took off your Nike shorts, pushing your thong to the side as you rubbed the silicone with your pussy. Billie actually whimpered, as if the dildo was part of her. Slowly, you sank onto it, biting your lip.

Despite that, swears still spilt out of your mouth as you struggled to fit the strap inside you. It had been so long since you had used it that it hurt to even get through the first few inches.

“Take your time baby,” Billie murmured, voice sultry, stroking your hair. “You’re doing amazing.”

“It hurts so much, so good.” You bit your lip, sinking down another inch. Finally, you fit the entire strap inside you, completely out of breath.

“Wait a minute.” She put her hand on your stomach. “Start moving.”

You did, and you watched Billie’s eyes dilate as your stomach expanded every time you sank down.

“You have a bulge kink, Eilish? Never pegged you for that kind of girl.”

“I didn’t. But now… fuck.”

Her words only spurred you on to fuck yourself on her dick faster, leaving love bites all over the left side of her neck and shoulder.

The pretty sounds she was making just from your hickeys were the most pornographic sounds you had ever heard. “Shit, keep going, baby.” Billie put her hand on your hip, tilting your chin to look at her with the other. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

That was the final straw for you, as you stilled and came on her strap.

You sank onto her strap before getting up.

“Clean up your own mess.” You didn’t hesitate, and she watched you lie between her legs, the tip of her strap pushing past your swollen lips. As you reached near the bottom, you gagged, and something about you gagging on her strap made Billie even hornier than before.

“Fuck it, it’s my turn.” She took off the strap without warning, watching you gag on it again with a strange sort of satisfaction.

Kneeling in front of Billie, you put a pillow under her back for comfort and spread her legs. Then, you started kissing her, from her forehead to her breasts and finally to the inside of her thighs.

At that point, they were already trembling, aching to be kissed. You kissed them and then turned your attention to her pussy. It was already clenching around nothing, lips glistening, red and swollen. You pressed a kiss directly on them, eliciting a sharp gasp from Billie.

Her arousal was already forming a small puddle on the sheets, dripping slowly. You pressed your tongue flat against her pussy, licking it from her slit to her clit.

“F- fuck baby…” Billie breathed out. “Stop teasing me, just fuck me already!”

“What’s the fun in that?” You spread her legs even wider, running your fingers along the rim of her lips and then spreading them apart with your thumbs. You admired her pretty pussy before diving in, practically making out with it.

“You taste soo good ma…” You mumbled against her clit. The vibrations from your voice made her hips jerk against your mouth. Instinctively, she tried to close her legs, but you forced them open. You were pussydrunk. Your eyes were glazed over and the only thing on your mind was eating her out all night.

Billie tugged on your hair, her hips grinding against your mouth. “I- I’m close-“ You tasted her cum spread across your tongue, lapping all of it up hungrily.

The adrenaline wore off after a few minutes, both of your chests heaving violently. You climbed on top of her body, kissing her neck.

“I think you need another shower.”

Billie laughed dryly, her voice already becoming rough. “You think?”

“Stay here. I’ll go get the shower ready.” You pressed a kiss to her forehead, going to the bathroom.

You flicked on the faucet, letting the water gather in the bathtub. Waiting for it to fill up, you went back to your room to get new clothes and towels.

After a while, the bathtub was full. You turned off the faucet and then went to get Billie.

“Time for your second shower of the day ma,” you said, sweeping her up in your arms, bridal style. She squealed as you did so, instinctively wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I hate you,” she muttered against your neck. But you knew she didn’t really mean it. She never did.

“Okay, let’s go.” You slowly lowered Billie into the tub, careful not to put her down too fast. The tub was big enough to fit both of you, so you got in too.

You stepped in behind her, pulling her onto your thighs.

“Both of us are gonna be walking funny tomorrow.” You murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Mmm… not yet. Let’s just get clean as soon as possible and go to bed.” Billie leaned onto your body, head on your shoulder.

The shower went by relatively quickly, Billie nearly falling asleep multiple times. You took turns shampooing and drying each other’s hair.

After getting changed, you climbed into bed with her, wrapping her in your arms. “We’ll change the sheets tomorrow.” You muttered, face buried in Billie’s neck. She simply hummed and hugged you back.

It didn’t take long until she drifted asleep, and you passed out not long after.

ˊ ꪆৎ ݁ 𝓪uthor 𝓷ote ⦂ do u guys want another ghosted part if so slip a note in my inbox hehe (and also an idea for the next part cus idk 😣) and also i finished the prologue of childhood best friends i jsut dk when to drop it 😕😕

The bass from the stage vibrated through the floor, through the soles of Billie's sneakers, up into her bones. She stood in the VIP section of the O2 Arena, surrounded by the people who mattered most—Ava, Jane, Quen, Odessa, her brother Finneas, Claudia, Alex, Rozzi—all of them packed together on the elevated platform, drinks in hand, eyes fixed on the stage. On you.

You were in the middle of your third song, the one that always brought the house down. The one where you changed into that bodysuit.

It was barely anything. A shimmering piece of fabric that hugged every curve, cut so high on your hips that the bottom swell of your ass peeked out, so low-cut that the valley between your breasts was practically on display. The material was sheer enough to hint at the dark circles of your nipples beneath. And when you moved—when you dropped into that slow, rolling grind that made the crowd roar—the suit rode up, exposing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

Billie's throat went dry.

She felt it before she could stop it. That familiar stir low in her belly, the thickening between her legs as her blood rushed south. She tried to shift her weight, cross her arms, do something to hide what was happening, but the baggy black sweatpants she'd worn suddenly felt like they were made of tissue paper. Her cock began to fill, pressing against the soft cotton, and she knew—knew—it was only a matter of seconds before it became unmistakable.

On stage, you dropped to your knees, arching your back, running your hands down your own thighs as you bounced in time with the beat. The crowd screamed. Billie bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. Her dick swelled further, the head now clearly outlined through the fabric, a thick ridge that pointed upward and to the left. She tried to adjust herself discreetly, but her hand only made it worse, pressing the fabric tighter against the shaft.

"Whoa," Alex said, elbowing Finneas. He didn't bother to lower his voice. "Dude, did you know she was packing that much heat? Look at that thing. That's not just a chub, that's a full-on boner."

Finneas glanced at his sister, then quickly looked away, a mix of embarrassment and brotherly concern on his face. "Bro, keep it in your pants. Or everyone's gonna see. Seriously. There are cameras everywhere." He lowered his voice to a sharp whisper. "Mom would kill me if she saw this on Twitter."

Billie let out a strangled laugh, trying to play it cool. "Shut up, it's fine. I'm fine. It's just... the adrenaline. The lights. Whatever."

But it wasn't fine. Her dick was now at full mast, a clear, thick tent stretching the front of her sweats. The tip was so hard it looked like it might poke through. She could feel the weight of it pushing against her waistband, the way her balls tightened up against her body. She tugged at the elastic, tried to angle it downward, but it sprang back up immediately. The lights from the stage swept over the VIP area, and she could feel eyes flickering to her crotch, then away.

Ava leaned closer, her voice soft and teasing. "I mean, I get it. I'd be like that too if my girl was up there doing that." She giggled, bumping her shoulder against Billie's. "Don't worry, we're all friends here. But seriously, your girlfriend knows exactly what she's doing. She's looking right at you."

She was right. On stage, you had turned around, bent over, and were shaking your ass directly at the VIP section. The sheer fabric of the bodysuit pulled so tight. You glanced over your shoulder, caught Billie's eye, and winked.

Billie groaned. A real, audible groan.

"I'm not worried," Billie muttered, but her voice cracked. Her hands were clammy. She couldn't take her eyes off you as you stood up, spun around, and began to grind your hips in a slow, deep circle that made your ass bounce with each rotation. The crowd roared. Billie's cock twitched, and she saw a small, dark spot appear at the tip of her sweats—precum soaking through.

Finneas noticed too. He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. "Billie, for real. You're leaking. Go to the bathroom or something. I'm not kidding."

"I can't just leave," she hissed back. "She'll think something's wrong."

"Something is wrong," Alex said, grinning. "You've got a fucking fire hydrant in your pants and she's on stage spreading her legs like she's offering you dessert."

"Alex, shut up," Rozzi said, slapping his arm. But she was laughing too.

The song ended. The lights dimmed. Billie exhaled a shaky breath, her entire body trembling with the effort of not touching herself. She watched you take your bow, then blow a kiss directly at her. The crowd went wild.

Backstage was chaos. Crew members rushed past, the hum of the crowd still vibrating through the walls. The hallway was narrow, packed with equipment cases and people. Billie stood near the door to your dressing room, hands shoved in her pockets, trying to will her erection down. It didn't work. If anything, the anticipation made it harder.

And then you appeared, still in that bodysuit, glistening with sweat, your face lit up with post-show adrenaline. Your hair was damp, your skin flushed. The thin fabric of the bodysuit clung to every curve, the triangle of your pussy clearly visible beneath it.

"Billie!" You ran to her, throwing your arms around her neck. She hugged you back, but her body was stiff, her breathing uneven. When you pulled away, you saw it—the strain in her jaw, the way her hips were tilted back as if trying to hide something. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown.

You glanced down. The tent in her sweats was impossible to miss. A dark wet spot had formed at the tip, right where the head pressed against the fabric, subtle for the rest, but you recognized it the second you saw it. You could see the outline of the corona, the slight curve of the shaft.

"Oh," you breathed, a smile spreading across your face. "Someone had a good show."

Billie groaned, a low sound of pure misery. "Baby, I'm literally dying over here. I mean it. I think I'm going to pass out. My balls hurt."

You giggled and grabbed her hand, lacing your fingers with hers. "Hold on, let me just say hi to everyone. Then we can go."

You moved through your friends, hugging Ava, high-fiving Alex, thanking Finneas for coming. Claudia asked about the encore, Rozzi complimented your vocals, Odessa and Quen pulled you aside to talk about the lighting. Billie stood behind you, her hand still in yours, her entire body thrumming with tension. Every time you moved, the scent of your sweat wafted toward her. She could see the sheen on your skin, the way the bodysuit rode up your ass crack every time you bent to pick something up.

Finally, you were done. "Okay, let's go back to the hotel now."

The car ride was torture for Billie. She sat with her legs pressed together, her hands clasped in her lap, trying to think about anything other than the way your thighs had looked under those lights. The chauffeur was a professional—he kept his eyes on the road, his face impassive. But Billie couldn't relax. Her cock was still painfully hard, the head now fully wet, the precum soaking through her boxers.

You were scrolling through your phone, the glow illuminating your face. Then you stopped.

"Babe," you said slowly, a smirk curling your lips. "Look at this."

You turned the phone toward her. It was a fan video from the show, but the camera wasn't on you. It was zoomed in on the VIP section. On Billie. The caption read: "bro billie's about to put that to good use, wish we could see it."

In the video, Billie was visibly adjusting herself, the outline of her erection painfully clear against the black fabric of her sweats. Her hand moved, but it only made it worse. A few people around her were sneaking glances, laughing.

Billie's face went red. "Fucking hell. I'm going to kill them."

"Don't worry," you whispered, leaning close, your lips brushing her ear. "You're gonna put it to good use tonight. I promise."

The chauffeur didn't react. But Billie felt your hand slide onto her thigh, squeezing, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. Your fingers moved higher, brushing against the bulge in her sweats. The fabric was damp. She felt your fingertips trace the outline of her cock, from the base to the tip.

"So hard," you murmured. "How long have you been like this?"

"Since the third song," she admitted, her voice strained. "Maybe earlier. I don't remember. I can't think."

"Good." Your hand squeezed harder. "I want you to stay hard until we get to the room. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

You smiled in the darkness of the car, your hand remaining on her thigh, fingers tracing slow patterns. Billie squirmed in her seat, her cock twitching under your touch. The car hit a bump, and she jolted, the friction making her gasp.

"Easy," you said.

She shook her head frantically. "I can’t."

The hotel suite was all glass and marble, with a king-sized bed dominating the center of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, you pushed Billie against it, your body pressed against hers. She was taller than you, not a lot, but you had her pinned, your hand sliding down her stomach to the waistband of her sweats.

"Not yet," you said, pulling away. You held up a finger, a wicked glint in your eyes. "I'm in charge. Got it?"

Billie's breath hitched. "Yeah. Okay."

"You're gonna do exactly what I tell you. And you're not gonna cum until I say so."

"Fuck," Billie whispered, her hips bucking toward you involuntarily.

You made her undress slowly. First the hoodie, then the t-shirt, revealing the lean muscle of her torso, the curve of her hips. She was toned, her stomach tight, her shoulders broad.

When she pulled down her sweats and boxers together, her cock sprang free—thick, hard, the tip already glistening with precum. It stood at attention, curved slightly upward, the veins visible along the shaft. Her balls were tight against her body, heavy and full.

You circled her, running a single finger down the length of her shaft. She shuddered, her eyes closed. The touch was feather-light, tracing the ridge of the head down to the base. You did it again, and again, until she was trembling.

"Look at me," you commanded and she opened her eyes.

"Get on the bed. On your back. Hands above your head."

She obeyed immediately, crawling onto the massive bed, lying down with her arms stretched out. Her cock lay against her stomach, thick and wet, a drop of precum gathering at the tip. You climbed on top of her, straddling her thighs, still wearing your bodysuit. The fabric was damp from sweat, clinging to you like a second skin. You leaned forward, letting your breasts brush against her chest, and whispered, "I want you to watch me take this off. Slowly."

And you did. You peeled the straps down, one by one, revealing your breasts, your nipples hard and dark. The fabric caught on your skin, peeling away with a soft sound. Billie's hands twitched at her sides, desperate to touch. You took her hands and brought them to your chest, letting her cup your breasts for a moment before pulling away.

"No touching," you said firmly. "Not yet."

You shimmied the bodysuit down your hips, over your ass, your thighs. The fabric gathered at your knees, then fell away. Finally, you were naked, your pussy slick and glistening, inches from her cock. The scent of your arousal filled the air.

"You're so wet," Billie breathed. Her voice was hoarse.

"All for you. But you don't get to fuck me yet." You reached down, wrapping your hand around her shaft, stroking her slowly. Her hips bucked into your grip. The skin was hot, smooth, the precum making your hand glide easily. "First, I want you to eat me out."

Billie's eyes widened, but she didn't argue. You shifted forward, positioning yourself over her face. Your knees on either side of her head, you lowered yourself, feeling her warm breath on your thighs. Her hands came up to grip your ass, pulling you closer.

And then her tongue was on you.Warm, flat, dragging through your folds in a long, slow stroke. You moaned, grinding against her mouth. She lapped at your clit, circled around it, then sucked it between her lips. The sensation shot through you like electricity.

"Fuck, Billie. Just like that."

She obeyed, her tongue diving deeper, fucking you as you rode her face. You grabbed her hair, pulling, guiding her rhythm. The pleasure built fast, coiling tight in your belly. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short gasps.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped. "Don't stop."

She didn't. She doubled down, her lips sealed around your clit, her tongue flicking fast. One hand came up, two fingers sliding into your pussy without warning, curling up toward your g-spot. You cried out, your whole body tensing as the orgasm hit you. Waves of pleasure crashed through you, your pussy clenching around her fingers, your juices soaking her chin. She kept licking you through it, gentler now, until you slumped forward, panting.

You slid off her face, collapsing onto the bed beside her. Her chin was slick with you, her eyes hazy with lust. Her cock was still standing, wet at the tip, a bead of precum rolling down the shaft.

"Good girl," you said, your voice hoarse. You crawled over to her, taking her cock in your hand again. "Now. I want to ride you."

She started to sit up, but you pushed her back down. "No. Stay like that."

She obeyed, her eyes locked on you. You straddled her again, not over her face this time, but over her cock. You lined it up with your entrance, the head pressing against your slick folds. The tip caught on your clit, and you both moaned. You held there, teasing, barely pushing in before pulling away.

"Please," Billie whimpered. Her whole body was shaking.

"Please what?"

"Please let me fuck you."

You smiled, then sank down.

The stretch was perfect. She filled you completely, the length of her sliding deep, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. You both cried out together—a raw, primal sound. Her cock pulsed inside you, and you felt her hands grip the sheets, fighting the urge to grab you.

You started to move. A slow, deliberate grind, your hips rolling in circles. The friction was incredible, the head of her cock nudging against your g-spot with every rotation. Billie's hips bucked up to meet you, but you slapped her thigh.

"Don't. I'm in control."

"Fuck, you're so—" She couldn't finish. Her head fell back, her mouth open, as you rode her. The sound of your wetness, the slap of your ass against her thighs, filled the room. You picked up the pace, bouncing on her cock, taking her deeper.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, clicked the camera open. Billie's eyes flew open. "What are you—"

"Recording," you said, breathless. "So we never forget." You panned the camera down to where your bodies connected, the wet sounds loud in the speaker. Then you turned it to her face. "You thought she was the one in control? Look at her. Look at how desperate she is."

Billie's face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes half-closed. She was panting, her chest heaving.

"Say something," you commanded.

"I—I need—" She swallowed. "Please, let me—"

"Let you what?"

"Let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Hard."

"Not yet." You kept riding her, your thighs burning, your clit aching. The pleasure was building again, coiling deeper this time. You reached down to rub your clit, your fingers wet with her precum and your own juices. "I'm going to cum on your cock. And then—"

But you were losing rhythm. The pleasure was too much. Your thighs burned, your clit ached for more friction. Billie saw the crack in your resolve.

Without warning, she flipped you.

You landed on your stomach, a gasp escaping your lips. Before you could protest, she was behind you, her body covering yours, her cock pressing against your ass. She grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face into the pillow.

"Change of plans," she growled, her voice low, different. Possessive. "I'm taking over."

She didn't ask. She grabbed your hips and slammed into you, all the way to the hilt. You screamed—a raw, broken sound—as she started fucking you hard, fast, desperate. The bed frame banged against the hotel wall. Her balls slapped against your clit with every thrust.

"That's right," she panted, her hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back. "You think you can tease me all night? Make me hard in front of everyone? Spray precum in my pants like a teenager?"

"Billie—fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Cum for me. Now."

She reached under you, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The pressure was perfect, her thrusts slamming into your g-spot, her fingers on your clit. You came undone, your orgasm ripping through you, your pussy clenching around her cock. You screamed into the pillow as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking.

She kept fucking you through it, chasing her own. The sound of her hips slapping against your ass was wet, obscene. Her breathing was ragged, her grip on your hips bruising.

"I'm close," she gasped. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Cum inside me. Fill me up."

With a roar, she buried herself deep, her whole body shuddering as she emptied into you. You felt it—hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you, the sensation triggering another mini-orgasm. She pulsed inside you, her cock twitching, her breath coming in gasps.

She collapsed on top of you, both of you panting, drenched in sweat. The weight of her was comforting, her body pressing you into the mattress.

But it wasn't over. She stayed inside you, still hard, still thick. She shifted, and you felt her cock twitch again.

"Round two," she whispered.

She pulled out slowly, turned you onto your back, and spread your legs wide. Your pussy was messy, cum leaking out, mixing with your own juices. She knelt between your legs, took her cock in her hand, and smeared the head through your folds, collecting the wetness.

"Look at you," she said, her voice full of wonder. "Look at what I did to you."

She drove into you again, slow and deep. This time it was different—no urgency, no desperation. It was deliberate. She watched your face as she fucked you, watched your eyes roll back, watched your mouth fall open.

"I love watching you fall apart," she said, her thrusts growing faster. "I love that I can do this to you."

You couldn't speak. You could only lie there and take it, your hands clawing at the sheets, your legs wrapped around her waist. She leaned down, kissing you, her tongue sliding into your mouth as her cock slid into you.

"Don't stop," you managed to whisper. "Please don't stop."

She didn't. She fucked you through the next buildup, her pace relentless. Her hand found your clit again, rubbing in time with her thrusts. The second orgasm built slower, deeper, an avalanche threatening to bury you.

"Come on," she murmured against your ear. "One more. One more for me."

"Billie—I can't—"

"You can. Let go. I've got you."

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your entire body arching off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat. Your pussy milked her cock, the clenching too much for her. She buried herself deep one last time and came again, her hot cum flooding you, adding to the pool already inside you. She kept thrusting, shallow, riding out the aftershocks.

Finally, she pulled out, collapsing beside you. Your cum-slicked thighs pressed together, the sheets a mess beneath you. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just breathing, just existing.

After a few minutes, Billie got up. Her legs were shaky. She walked to the bathroom, and you heard the faucet run. She came back with a warm, damp towel. Gently, she spread your legs and cleaned you, wiping away the cum and sweat from your thighs, your pussy, your stomach. The towel was warm against your sensitive skin. She was careful, tender, her touch soft.

Then she cleaned herself, wiping her dick and balls, the towel coming away stained. She tossed it into the hamper and climbed back into bed, pulling you into her arms.

You nestled against her, your head on her chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin. The room was quiet now, the only sound was the hum of the city outside.

"Thank you," she whispered, her lips pressed to your hair. "Thank you for letting me ruin your pretty pussy, mama."

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against her skin. "God, I need to let you be more in charge, Billie. That was amazing."

She kissed the top of your head. "Any time. I mean it."

You lay there, tangled together, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. The hum of the London night filtered through the curtains. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, but inside the room, everything was perfect.

Then your stomach growled. Loudly. Making you both burst out laughing.

"Room service?" you asked, your voice hopeful.

"Hell fucking yeah."

She reached for the phone on the nightstand, her arm stretching over your head. You watched her dial, her fingers moving lazily over the numbers. She ordered a feast—vegan burgers, fries, an insane amount of water—and when she hung up, she pulled you closer.

"Best night in a long time," she said.

"Best night in a looooooong time," you agreed, and snuggled deeper into her arms, ready for round three—or at least, ready for the food to arrive.

the air hangs heavy with burnt rubber and cheap cigarettes. inside, the men pause what they’re doing when they spot you. one drops a wrench with a loud clang. another mutters something low under his breath that sets the others laughing.

you pretend not to notice. you’ve been raised above this noise.

still, your voice is sharp and clear. “i need someone to look at my car. it just shut off on the freeway.”

one of the guys, tall, dripping sweat and arrogance, gives you a slow once-over. “you sure it’s the car that’s broken, sweetheart?”

you level him with a steady look. “are you always this brave when you know the woman you’re talking to could buy the whole building?”

he whistles low. “touché.”

you ignore him.

another man steps forward, wiping his hands on a rag, trying and failing not to stare down your blouse. “you uh… got a number for it? the car, i mean.”

“i don’t give my number to men who stare at my chest instead of my eyes.”

“damnn.”

that shuts them up, for a moment.

then she walks in.

heavy boots, sleeves rolled to the elbow, a black tank streaked with oil clinging to muscles that ripple with every step. her biceps speak of strength. she moves like she owns every inch of this place, like the cracked concrete bends under her weight.

when her eyes land on you and your pink porsche, your lips part without thought.

she’s hot. unfairly hot.

“who called?” she drawls, wrench slung casually over one shoulder.

“yeah,” one of the guys says, grinning. “barbie over here broke down.”

you shoot him a sharp glare, but billie’s gaze never leaves you. it travels slowly, deliberately, from your heels, up your legs, to your face, unreadable, intense.

her brows arch in amusement. “lost, princess?”

you stiffen. “no. i just need someone competent enough to check the engine.”

that earns a low whistle behind her, but billie doesn’t flinch.

she steps forward, slow, unbothered planting one large hand on the hood of your car. her bicep flexes as she leans in, veins prominent beneath skin glistening with sweat. sleeves rolled up, muscles taut effortless strength that makes your breath catch.

then she looks at you.

not just seeing you, reading you. picking you apart, piece by piece, and clearly liking what she finds.

you open your mouth to speak to reassert yourself but your throat dries up. her scent hits you: clean sweat, oil, and something warm and dark that unsettles you more than 

it should.

she notices.

a slow, soft smirk curls her lips. “oh, would look at that,” she murmurs, voice dipping low. “mouthy little thing went quiet.”

your brows twitch, but words won’t come.

“what’s the matter, princess?” she whispers, stepping closer. her eyes twinkle with amusement. “you’ve been handing those boys their asses since you walked in, and now you’re all…” she sizes you up, voice dropping to a teasing drawl, “quiet hm?.”

you manage a breath. “i’m not—”

“no backing down now,” she grins, clearly entertained. “i think i like you better this way.”

you try to roll your eyes, but your body betrays you, fingers tug at your bracelet, your weight shifts nervously, your mouth presses into a tight line that’s anything but indifferent.

it doesn’t fool her.

she leans in just enough to brush her arm against yours.

“let me guess,” she whispers, voice low and teasing against your ear, “you’ve got a whole world that caters to your every whim… but look at you right now, can’t even look me in the eye.”

you don’t answer. can’t. your throat tightens, your cheeks burn.

her grin widens, victorious. “that’s what i thought.”

you flush, hating every second of it. “m’ not nervous.”

billie laughs low, dragging her knuckle slowly across your car’s hood as if sizing you up again. “no? then why won’t you look at me?”

you bristle, eyes flickering up. “i—i… um”

that makes her grin, wide, shameless, slow. “come on, where’s that big mouth of yours gone, sweetheart”

she says it like it’s nothing. like she means it.

you freeze. the image strikes deep.

her biceps flex as she pushes off the hood big hands, strong shoulders, muscle under that rolled-up tank and suddenly you’re painfully aware of just how easily she could press you down.

“don’t worry, princess,” she adds, voice dropping as she leans in close, “i’m real good with my hands. especially when something needs… adjusting.”

“c’mon let’s get somewhere a little more private,” she says, voice steady and low.

you hesitate, just for a moment. but her presence is magnetic, impossible to resist.

her hand slides around your waist, firm and sure, guiding you away from the noisy garage floor toward a narrow hallway behind the bays.

the hum of engines fades behind you as she leads you into a smaller, dimmer room smelling of grease and metal, and a hint of a musky vanilla, but charged with something else entirely.

she stops just inside the door, her bicep pressing lightly against your side as she looks down at you, eyes shining with that bold, challenging spark.

“better than having those greasy hands all over you,” she says with a slow, wicked grin. “now i’ve got your full attention.”

your heart hammers wildly despite yourself, you’re already craving what comes next.

you swallow. hard.

“pop the hood,” she orders, stepping back.

you do, fingers fumbling just a little, and she watches every movement like she’s already figured out how you tick.

and fuck, you can feel your heartbeat in places it shouldn’t be.

the heat is stifling.

your silk top sticks to your back, and your thighs press together under your skirt as you lean against the hot metal of your car’s hood. she’s behind you, sleeves rolled up, arms flexing as she wipes her hands clean with a rag. her gaze hasn’t left you since she got here.

“you break down often?” she asks, voice a husky drawl.

you try to keep your voice calm. “not—not really”

she steps in close. too close.

“maybe you should…,” she murmurs, her fingers sliding under the hem of your skirt. “gives me a reason to get my hands on you.”

you gasp, but you don’t stop her. you should. you don’t.

“billie—”

her hand grips your hip. firm. possessive. she leans in, breath warm against your ear. “try again, princess, cmon”

your knees nearly buckle. “please billie”

you should walk away. but instead, you arch your back when her fingers slide along your inner thigh.

“you’re soaked,” she growls, knuckles brushing your panties. “why didn’t you use your words for me, mama? you clearly were using them early. dripping like a needy girl.”

“i—”

your voice catches as she pulls your panties to the side, then down, letting them hang off one ankle like a trophy. you feel the cool air on your exposed pussy and the hard press of something hot and thick against your ass.

you glance back. her cock, long, veiny, flushed at the tip, already leaking for you. 

“you’re not scared, are you?” she teases, stroking it, slow and deliberate. “big girl like you? bet you’ve never had cock like mine.”

“fuck me,” you whisper, shameless now, “please, bil.”

her hand snaps around your hip, firm and possessive, anchoring you in place. she leans in, warm breath grazing your ear, voice low and teasing. “always so spoiled, princess. are you so used to getting what you want right away.”

you swallow hard.

“you know what i’m thinking, baby,” she purrs, her voice low and commanding, “this time… you’re gonna have to wait. show me some respect, yeah?”

your knees threaten to buckle. “please—please,—” you start to beg.

she cuts you off with a smirk, stepping back just enough to size you up. “if you want me to fuck you, princess, you gotta prove you deserve it. you really think you deserve my cock, hm mama?”

your pulse spikes, heat rushing through you.

billie’s eyes darken, sharp and teasing. “walking in here in that tiny skirt and a big mouth. what happened to all that talk, baby? guess you just need someone to put you in your place.”

you nod, unsure what exactly you’re agreeing to but too eager to question it.

with a slow, deliberate motion, she gestures her head. you drop to your knees, trembling but determined, hands gripping her hips as you take her in. 

her breath catches, hips pressing forward. “that’s it,” she growls, one hand threading through your hair, guiding you like you belong to her.

your tongue swirls over her tip, tasting her precum, before you lick it clean and kiss it softly. you take her deeper, gagging slightly on her length. she bucks her hips, lost in the sensation, fingers weaved between the locks in your hair.

soft moans and whimpers spill from her lips as she nears her edge.

“good girl,” she murmurs, not pushing you too far too fast. you whimper, grinding your hips against her boot, craving some relief from the ache building inside you.

“dirty little slut,” she taunts, pulling away. “can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh?”

you shake your head, overwhelmed, throwing your head back as a shudder ripples through you.

she pulls you up, pressing you against your car, her body hot and solid against yours. her lips crash onto yours with fierce hunger.

her hands slide down, pulling your skirt up and your panties aside, tip of her cock teasing through your slick folds.

“please,” you beg, voice trembling. “need you inside me.”

she laughs softly but wastes no time. her hands grip your hips, and with a brutal thrust, she sinks deep inside you. you cry out, arching your back against the cool hood.

“god, so tight,” she growls, pulling out halfway then slamming back in harder. the metal groans beneath you. “made for my cock, fucking perfect.”

her pace is relentless deep, and rough, claiming every inch. you’re soaked, your walls fluttering around her as she fucks you in plain sight.

a car door slams somewhere nearby. you don’t care.

only thing on your mind being her.

“louder,” she pants. “let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“b-billie!” you cry, knuckles white as you grip the hood. “don’t stop—”

her hand tangles in your hair, pulling you flush against her chest. she fucks into you harder, one hand sliding around to rub your clit. her lips brush your ear.

“you gonna come for me?”

you nod, desperate and wild.

“gonna be my messy little girl? make a mess all over my cock?”

“yes—please, bil—i’m—!”

“gonna let me fill you up, princess?”

you nod frantically, trembling as the knot inside snaps. your legs shake, pussy clenching tight around her as she moans deep in your ear, spills inside you. 

she doesn’t pull out. just holds you there, chest to your back, both of you panting in the heat and the sweat the scent of her perfume dominating the greasy smell of the garage. 

then her voice, low and smug:

“next time you want your car fixed, just call me directly. i’ll bring my tools.”

© dragoneyelashart

The studio in Billie's LA house felt like a cocoon of creativity and quiet intensity, tucked away in the sprawling modern home she called her sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the twinkling city lights, but heavy curtains were drawn, keeping the outside world at bay. Inside, the air hummed with the faint scent of incense and fresh coffee, mixed with the subtle musk of long hours spent chasing perfection. The grand screen set up dominated the space, its polished black surface reflecting the soft amber glow from the desk lamps. Posters of Billie's past tours and album covers adorned the walls, a testament to her empire, while scattered notebooks and a half-empty bottle of water cluttered the nearby table.

You'd arrived that afternoon, nerves buzzing like the synth lines in the track you were building together. As industry colleagues, your paths had crossed at industry events—quick hellos at the Grammys, nods during producer meetings—but this was different. This was intimate, collaborative, just the two of you hammering out a song that blended her edgy vocals with your piano-driven melody. The track was sultry, pulsating with a rhythm that demanded precision, especially from the keys. You'd been at it for what felt like eternity, your fingers aching from repeated attempts, but every run-through ended in frustration. The notes slipped, the timing fractured, and the whole piece fell apart.

Billie lounged against the edge of the piano, her black hair falling in loose waves over her forehead, those striking blue eyes fixed on you with a mix of amusement and impatience. She wore her usual oversized aesthetic—a baggy black hoodie that swallowed her slim frame, loose sweats that hung low on her hips, and chunky sneakers kicked off by the door. At 24, she carried an effortless cool, but up close, there was a raw energy about her, something magnetic that made the room feel smaller.

"Alright, let's take it from the bridge again," she said, her voice that signature low rasp, laced with a teasing edge. She pushed off the piano and paced a slow circle around you, hands tucked into her pockets. "You're overthinking it. The rhythm isn't in your head—it's in your body. You gotta feel it, like it's breathing through you."

You nodded, wiping sweat from your brow, and positioned your hands over the keys. The melody started strong in your mind: a steady pulse building to a crescendo, evoking late-night drives through the city, hearts racing in sync. But as you pressed down, your timing wavered. A note hung too long, another came too soon, and the whole sequence crumbled into dissonance. You slammed your palm lightly on the wood in defeat, exhaling sharply.

Billie stopped pacing, her smirk widening as she leaned in close, her breath warm against your shoulder. "See? Too stiff. You're like a robot trying to dance. Loosen up, yeah? Let me help you find the groove." Her tone was playful, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something hotter, more insistent. Before you could respond, her hands were on your hips, firm and guiding, steering you to bend forward over the piano bench. The cool surface of the keys brushed your forearms as you braced yourself, heart pounding not just from the failure but from the sudden proximity.

"Billie, what are you—" you began, voice catching as you felt her press against your back. The bulge in her sweats was unmistakable, hard and unyielding, nestling right against the curve of your ass. She was different—everyone in the inner circles whispered about it, but feeling it was another thing entirely. A girl with a cock and balls, thick and ready, hidden under that casual exterior.

"Shh," she murmured, lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm gonna show you the rhythm. Trust me, it'll stick this time." Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it up slowly, exposing the soft skin of your thighs. The air in the studio felt thicker now, charged, as she slid your panties to the side with a casual flick. You were already damp—frustration and her teasing presence had done that much—and she let out a soft hum of approval.

She freed herself from her sweats, the sound of fabric rustling followed by the heavy drop of her length against your skin. Her cock was impressive—thick at the base, veined along its length, the head flushed and leaking a bead of precum. Her balls hung low, full and swaying slightly as she gripped your hip with one hand. She dragged the tip along your folds, coating it in your arousal, teasing your entrance without mercy. "Look at you, already wet for the lesson," she whispered, voice dripping with that small, dirty tease. "Think you can play while I fuck the beat into this pretty pussy?"

You gasped, gripping the edge of the piano, but nodded, determined to try. With a single, deliberate thrust, she pushed inside, stretching your walls inch by inch. The fullness was overwhelming, her girth filling you completely as she bottomed out, balls pressing flush against your clit. She held there for a moment, letting you adjust, her breath hot on your neck. "That's the intro," she said, starting a slow, measured pump—deep in, slow out, mirroring the song's opening pulse.

Your fingers trembled as you tried to match it, pressing the first notes. The keys responded under your touch, but her movement disrupted everything. Each slide of her cock dragged against your inner walls, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. She picked up the pace slightly, hips snapping in time with the required rhythm—steady, insistent thrusts that had her balls slapping lightly against you. "Feel that?" she teased, one hand sliding up your side to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple through the fabric. "That's the groove. Sync to me."

But you couldn't. The sensation built too fast, her thickness hitting deep with every drive, coiling heat in your core. Your hands faltered, keys clashing as a moan escaped your lips. She didn't stop, pounding steadily from behind, her free hand now gripping your waist to pull you back onto her. The wet sounds of her cock plunging into your pussy filled the studio, mingling with your ragged breaths. Pleasure crested, and your first orgasm hit like a wave—your walls clenching around her shaft, milking it as tremors shook your body. You slumped forward, fingers splaying across random keys, the piano emitting a chaotic jumble.

Billie slowed, but didn't pull out, grinding deep as you rode the aftershocks. "Fail," she said with a chuckle, voice husky from the effort. "Not even close. Restart from the top." She withdrew slowly, her cock slick and shining with your release, a string of your juices connecting you for a moment before snapping. You were panting, thighs quivering, but she gave you no time to recover. Positioning you again—ass up, bent over the bench—she rubbed her tip along your soaked entrance, teasing your swollen folds. "Dripping down your legs. Let's see if you learn."

She thrust back in with ease, the glide smoother now from your wetness. Her balls tapped your skin rhythmically as she resumed the pace, hips rolling in that perfect, unyielding tempo. You braced your hands on the keys, trying harder this time, forcing your fingers to follow the melody. The notes came tentatively—close, but not quite. Her cock filled you over and over, the head nudging that sensitive spot inside, making your focus shatter. "Come on," she urged, breath teasing your ear, "play for me. Or is this pussy too greedy, sucking me in like that?"

The dirty words fueled the fire, and soon your body tensed again. Her thrusts grew firmer, balls smacking with each drive, the friction building unbearably. Your second climax tore through you, stronger than the first—pussy spasming around her length, juices squirting lightly as you cried out, hands pounding the keys in a discordant frenzy. The piano wailed under the assault, the song lost once more.

"Nope," Billie murmured, pulling out with a wet schlick, her cock throbbing visibly, veins pulsing. She stroked herself once, smearing your essence along her shaft, before lining up again. "Restart. You're making me work for it, but fuck, you feel good." Her voice had lost some of the tease, edged with raw desire now, but she kept it light, professional almost, like this was just part of the session.

Third attempt: She sank in deep, the stretch still intense despite your slickness. Her body molded to yours from behind, sweat-slick skin sliding as she began pumping. The rhythm was hypnotic—thrust, withdraw, thrust—her balls heavy against you, swinging with momentum. You managed a full bar this time, fingers dancing in sync for precious seconds, the melody peeking through. But then she shifted her angle, grinding harder, her cock dragging along your g-spot relentlessly. "That's it, almost," she whispered, hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit in slow circles. The added touch was devastating.

Heat pooled low, your breaths coming in gasps as you fought to keep playing. But the dual pleasure overwhelmed—her thumb flicking, cock pounding, balls tapping—and your third orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched vise-like, pulling her deeper as waves of ecstasy pulsed through, leaving you shaking, a keen escaping your throat. Keys blurred under your faltering grip, the music dissolving into noise.

Billie groaned softly, hips stuttering for the first time as your release coated her length. She eased out, giving you a moment to breathe, but her hand stayed on your hip, possessive. "Getting closer, but still a fail. Look at you, cumming so easy. Restart." She plunged back in without warning, the sudden fullness drawing a whimper from you. Your pussy was sensitive now, every inch of her cock sending jolts through your overstimulated nerves.

Fourth round: The pace was the same, always from behind, her chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around to steady you. She thrust steadily, balls slapping wetly now from the mess between you. "Feel how your body's learning?" she said, voice low and encouraging, the teasing softened but still there. "Tighten around me like that—match the beat." You tried, syncing a few more measures, the piano's notes flowing smoother, almost capturing the sultry pulse of the track.

But her hand returned to your clit, rubbing firmer, and the building tension snapped. Her cock throbbed inside, stretching you wide with each drive, the head kissing your cervix. Your fourth orgasm built slower but hit harder—body arching, pussy fluttering wildly around her as pleasure bordered on pain, tears pricking your eyes. You screamed softly, fingers slipping off the keys entirely, the bench creaking under your weight.

"Damn," Billie breathed, withdrawing carefully, her cock glistening, balls drawn tight. She was close herself, you could tell from the way she panted, but she held back, ever the teacher. "One more push. You're soaked, pussy begging for it. Restart." She entered you again, the slide effortless, your walls welcoming despite the ache. The studio smelled of sex now, heavy and intoxicating, the air thick with your shared heat.

Fifth attempt: Her thrusts were precise, hips snapping in perfect time, balls colliding with your clit in a rhythm that echoed the song. Sweat dripped from her brow onto your skin, mixing with yours. You focused through the haze, fingers finding the keys, pressing down with renewed determination. Notes emerged—clean, flowing, syncing to her movements. She noticed, a soft "Yes" escaping her lips, her hand on your breast squeezing gently.

But the pleasure mounted relentlessly. Her cock filled you completely, dragging out with a twist before slamming back, her balls heavy and full against you. The friction was too much; your body betrayed you one last time. The fifth orgasm ripped through, intense and shattering—pussy convulsing, milking her shaft as you wailed, but miraculously, your hands stayed true. The piano sang unbroken, the melody soaring in perfect harmony with her final, deep thrusts.

Billie followed seconds later, groaning low as she buried herself to the hilt. Her cock pulsed, hot cum erupting in thick ropes, flooding your pussy, her balls contracting against your skin. She jerked her hips, riding out the release, filling you until it leaked out around her base. You both trembled, the music fading as she stilled, breath ragged.

Slowly, she pulled out, a gush of her seed following, trickling down your thighs. She helped you upright, steadying you with hands on your shoulders, that smirk returning but softer now. Tucking herself away, she met your eyes, pride shining through. "See? I knew you could do it."

The words hung in the air, simple and affirming, as the studio settled into quiet satisfaction. The track was alive now, etched into your bodies as much as the keys. As colleagues, this was just another layer to the collaboration—intense, unforgettable, but professional at its core. Billie grabbed a water bottle, handing it to you with a wink. "Let's record that for real now. No distractions."

But the echo of her rhythm lingered, a secret beat only you two shared.

an; its my first time writting smut, i’m sorry cause it SuCkS so big omg, but i hope you at least enjoyed it. btw, someone, fuck me like that. please and thank you.

She was very straightforward and direct; she was honest when she was disappointed with her employees' work, and her disappointment was always clear. You could practically feel it if you happened to walk into her office on a bad day. But it was clear when she was pleased, too; because she never really cracked so much as a grin during work hours, everyone knew that if Billie was smiling, it meant she was satisfied, and that things at the company were going smoothly.

To make the long story short, Billie was rather intimidating; she carried with her a strong sense of confidence, and her very presence, even if she wasn't saying anything, was imposing, almost electric. With a single glance, a single quirk of the eyebrow, Billie could communicate everything she needed.

Being her assistant also meant knowing her a bit more personally than others. You knew she liked having a medium Iced Americano every morning from the local coffee shop. When forwarding emails to her, you knew exactly which ones she wouldn't care for and which ones she'd respond to instantly. You knew that she valued punctuality and efficiency and people who were good at following orders but also knew how to generate new ideas. When you first started working for her, you had to prove to her that you could live up to the challenge. That you were more than capable of balancing her workload, and giving her above average results. It took an immense amount of effort, and impressing her certaintly wasn't easy; but now, several months later, Billie had made it clear that she wouldn't let you go, more than pleased with your work.

The dynamic you shared with her was strictly professional, one built off of mutual respect. For a while.

Neither of you expected it to become anything more.

There was no denying that you were attracted to Billie from the start; aside from the fact that she was easily the most stunning women you've ever seen, with her long, dark hair, striking eyes and tailored suits, there was something else about her that was alluring to you. She was so mysterious, so reserved, and the more time that passed, the more you wanted to learn more about her. Not as Billie Eilish, the serious CEO, but just as Billie, the person behind the authoritative mask.

It was risky; becoming increasingly more flirtatious with your boss. You complimented her more often, purposefully letting your fingers brush hers when you were handing her things, so on, so forth. You were putting your entire career on the line, the one you worked so hard for. At first, after weeks of not really getting any kind of reaction from her, you were about to bury your feelings for good.

But slowly, Billie made it more and more obvious that she liked your little games; she smiled at you more often, let your faint touches linger a bit instead of immediately pulling away, and you've even caught her gazing at you during meetings, bottom lip pulled between her teeth as you tried to take notes.

The desire that you both shared for each other was palpable, the tension between you two rising gradually like lava in a volcano, and it was only a matter of time before you both acted on it.

The relationship that formed as a result of weeks of flirting was not… a traditional one, so-to-speak. It was one built on rules. Power dynamics. Punishments and rewards.

And you enjoyed every minute of it.

Billie loved how obedient you were. She noticed it as soon as you started working for her. You followed her instructions so perfectly, and that did something to Billie; it made her realize something about herself that she hadn't even been aware of before. She felt a certain fluttery feeling in her stomach whenever you successfully completed a task of hers, and you would look at her, smiling, communicating to her with your eyes that you wanted to be praised.

And of course, she'd do just that, quickly uttering "good girl" under her breath. It always made your knees weak, hearing those words in her low and silky voice.

On days where you made her really proud, she'd reward you by inviting you in her office and trailing her hands up your pencil skirt, her fingers pistoning into you with such precision and skill that she'd make you come undone in minutes, all while she had her tie in your mouth to muffle your sobs of pleasure.

Sometimes, but only sometimes, she'd bring her sparkly, midnight black strap, and take you while bent over her desk, keeping your arms behind your back, often bound together with her tie just because she knew you liked the loss of control. Those days, you left her office with a slight limp, disheveled clothes, and a satisfied smile.

But as much as you loved pleasing her, at some point you wanted to switch things up with the existing dynamic you had with her, and you soon realized that pissing her off was far more enjoyable than following orders.

It started off with small things. Making a small mistake with her Iced Americano order and getting a small instead of her preferred medium. Sometimes you'd purposefully hand her the wrong files, or show up just minutes late to a meeting, knowing how much she disliked when her employees weren't on time. And then it escalated, and you gradually became more bold. You talked back to her on the days where she wasn't in a great mood, muttered sarcastic comments under your breath.

Billie, of course, quickly caught onto the game you were playing, and like a cat to a mouse, she played along.

That's when she introduced punishments to the dynamic. In the privacy of her office, sometimes she'd get you riled up, only to make you kneel in front of her while she typed away at her computer, ignoring your pleading eyes and the growing wetness in your panties. She'd leave you like that the whole day; unsatisfied and begging for more.

A punishment of hers that was her favorite was edging you to near insanity; either with her mouth or fingers or strap, she'd constantly bring you close to an orgasm before pulling away, and she'd do it so many times that it almost bordered on torture. Sometimes you'd get so worked up that you would eventually have an orgasm anyway if she even just lightly touched you, your body so aroused that you didn't even need much stimulation before coming undone. This would only make your situation worse, as you were only allowed to cum with Billie's permission. Whenever that happened, she'd lean in close, smiling evilly, whispering in your ear:

"My baby wanted to cum? Then I'll give you all the orgasms you want, since you wanna be so impatient."

You knew what those words meant. It meant she'd overstimulate you until you could barely hold yourself up, fresh tears streaming down your face.

But you loved it. Every second of it.

So, when you walked into Billie's office today after being particularly mouthy with her after a meeting, you knew what you were in for.

There Billie sat, looking as regal as ever in her chair, hands folded in her lap. She was clearly waiting for you, a lopsided grin etched onto her features as she burned holes into you with her gaze.

"Lock the door." Was all she said; no warm greeting, just a firm command.

You obeyed, turning the lock until you heard that all too familiar click. You felt the anticipation bubbling within you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

You watched as Billie stood up from her desk, walking closer to you but still keeping her distance. She crossed her arms, eyeing you like a predator stalking its prey.

"You've been giving me attitude the entire fucking day. Bend over the desk." She stated, leaving absolutely no room for disagreement.

But you weren't done messing with her. No, your little game was far from finished.

With a smirk, you didn't move.

"I don't want to." You retorted, jutting out your bottom lip.

Billie quirked an eyebrow, her confident grin faltering. "You know I don't like repeating myself. Bend over the fucking desk."

You still didn't move. You mirrored her stance, crossing your arms as well as you continued to stare right back at her.

"Make me." You said, and as soon as those words left you, you could feel the atmosphere in the room change. It only made you smirk wider, knowing that you were really getting under her skin.

Billie just chuckled, the sound low and dark, and it gave you a rush of adrenaline. When you heard her laugh, that was a sign she was truly fed up with your antics.

You were about to make another snarky comment about her silence until Billie finally spoke up.

"Oh, I see. You're really asking for it, huh? Seems like you've forgotten who the fuck you're talking to."

She stepped closer to you, standing in front of you. She reached a hand out and gently caressed your cheek.

You were perplexed at first. The gentle action contrasted starkly with her harsh words. But it only made you more excited.

She leaned in, whispering her next words, her breath hitting your face.

"You just never learn. Good thing I like putting stupid brats like you in your place."

And with that, her hand suddenly went up to your hair, and she tugged. Hard.

You immediately hissed in pain, hand going up to her wrist, but you made no move to remove it. With her hand still in your hair, Billie dragged you to her desk, before forcefully bending you over it.

It all happened so quick that you were still registering what had just happened, all while Billie had both your hands pulled behind your back, removing her tie as quickly as she could with one hand. You knew exactly where that tie was going.

But suddenly, she had paused before putting the tie in your mouth. From behind, you heard her say, "What do you do when you want me stop but you can't speak?" She asked the question softly, breaking out of her colder, more strict persona for just a moment.

"I… I snap my fingers," you said breathlessly, so aroused you didn't even know what to do with yourself.

"Good," Billie praised. "And how many times do you snap?"

"Three times." You replied.

"Show me." She urged.

You obeyed, snapping your fingers exactly three times in quick succession.

"Very good," Billie said with a grin. "Color?"

You could hear the grin in her voice, a small smile of your own taking over your features.

"Green." You told her.

Once Billie got confirmation to keep going, in the blink of an eye, she returned to her meaner, more brutal attitude. It nearly gave you whiplash with how quickly she was able to switch.

She wasted no time in putting the tie in your mouth, tying it behind your head. You were wearing slacks today, so she pulled them down, tugging harshly, exposing your ass to the cool air of her office.

She took sight of the white lace panties that you wore, specifically for her. You could hear Billie curse under her breath.

"You naughty, naughty girl." She said, rubbing her palm against your backside gently. You knew what was coming; you just didn't know when. The anticipation was practically killing you.

"I want you to count," Billie commanded. "I usually tell you how many I'm giving you, but this time? I'll surprise you." She spoke, her shit-eating grin going from ear to ear.

And then, her hand came crashing down.

The smack reverberated throughout the room and bounced of the walls, it was so loud. It was toward the end of the day, so most people had already left the building, but there were still some people working late, and the thought of them overhearing just made your panties even more soaked. The thought of someone listening was certaintly humiliating and yet it just turned you on even more. All it took was someone walking by. But you couldn't think about that; you had to focus on counting.

"One!" You said through the fabric of Billie's tie, your voice muffled.

Another smack.

"Two!"

She then gave you three, in quick succession, alternating between each cheek.

"Fuck—" you swore, your asscheeks already burning.

Billie tugged your hair angrily. The pain was exhilarating.

"That's not a fucking number. Count."

"Three, four, five—shit—"

It kept going and going, and the minutes started to stretch on seemingly forever. Eventually, you made it to twenty.

By the last one, your ass felt raw, and a few lone tears had escaped your eyes.

"You did so good, baby. You're such a good girl." Billie cooed, removing the tie.

You didn't immediately straighten yourself up, too overwhelmed to even move. Billie just gently caressed your upper back, letting you calm down.

Once you caught your breath again, and you felt like you could speak without it coming out as a incoherent mess, with a dazed smile, you said: "Do I get a reward for being such a good girl?"

"My pretty baby wants a reward? Well then, what do you say?"

"Please."

Billie raised an eyebrow at you. "Please, what?"

"Please, sir. I would like a reward." You said.

"Well, since you asked nicely. You took your punishment so well, who am I to deny you?" She said, slowly pulling your lace panties to the side, rubbing her fingers through your drenched folds.

A sigh escaped you as Billie didn't waste a second in slipping in finger. It slid in so easily because of how wet you were. She let you adjust to the feeling before slipping in a second one, the office so quiet that you could hear the soft squelching noises coming from your pussy that made your face hot.

"Such a good girl," Billie muttered, finding that sweet spot inside of you within a seconds. "Need you to make a mess all over my fingers, yeah?"

You nodded fervently, trying to keep your moans at a low volume. You were biting your lip so hard you were sure it would start bleeding.

"Please make me cum. Please—" You said, the words just tumbling out of you, some of them slurring together.

Billie let out an amused laugh. "Oh, I will, baby. I will—"

Suddenly, at that moment, a knock was heard on Billie's door. You tensed up at the sound, completely caught off guard.

You thought Billie would stop, but much to your surprise (and delight) she kept going.

The other voice outside the door spoke first. It belonged to a man. "Hey, uh, Miss B? Are you still there?"

"Yes, Charles. What do you need?" Billie replied casually, as if two of her fingers weren't deep inside of you and making you see stars. You slapped a hand over your mouth as you felt Billie speed up, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. Your knees buckled as their conversation continued.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know while you're still here that I won't be coming into work tomorrow. It's a family emergency. So I'll miss the meeting, obviously. I'm terribly sorry." Charles explained.

"That's perfectly fine, Charles. We'll get you all caught up, no problem. My assistant will send everyone the notes, anyway."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Billie gave you one final thrust that sent you over the edge. Your hand was clamped so tightly over your mouth it almost hurt as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Billie's fingers kept moving as she fingered you through it.

On the other side of the door, you heard Charles just chuckle in relief, seemingly oblivious to the absolutely inappropriate act happening inside. "Okay. Great. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss B."

"You too." Billie said sweetly, pulling her fingers out of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

Finally, you attempted to stand up. You still didn't have full control over your legs, so Billie helped you, holding both of your hands, even helping you pull your pants back up. You winced once you felt the fabric of your slacks gently rub against your still very sensitive backside.

Billie was smiling at you as you leaned against her desk, leaning in to give you a chaste peck.

"You're insane," you said when she pulled away. "I can't believe you just did that."

Billie chuckled. "I can't believe I did it either, to be honest. Thank god the door was locked."

"Yeah," You agreed. "Now, you owe me a hot bath and some cuddles."

Billie held your hand, squeezing gently. "Of course. Was already thinking it."

You both get ready to exit the office. Billie doesn't have to do much to appear presentable. She does stuff her tie in her back pocket though, which is still damp from your saliva. You're able to fix your hair and smooth out your clothes, but there's no hiding the puffiness in your eyes from all the tears. You weren't too worried about that, though. You and Billie were going to be out the building before anyone could even take notice.

Before Billie opens the door, she pauses, and turns to you.

"Will you be on your best behavior next week?" She asks with a smirk.