Page 9 of The Big Scoop

Yes…let me feel it.

But at the last possible second, right as Gwen was about to go over the edge, she pulled back like she’d been hit with a bucket of cold water to the face, grabbed me by the wrist, snatched my fingers out of her, and leapt to her feet.

“Uhm…no,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair like she was flustered and confused.

“What is it, baby?” I asked, reaching out for her. But Gwen backed away and tugged her skirt back down over her legs.

“No,” she said again. “This can’t—we can’t do this.”

“Relax. It’s okay. I won’t tell your editor.”

I stood up and moved closer to her, but again she backed away.

“No!” she said, louder this time. “No, Mr. Night, we are not doing this.”

Mr. Night?

What the hell was happening? She was almost about to come when she’d stopped me. Was she too nervous to have an orgasm around me?

“I need to go now,” she said, picking up her purse. She headed back inside toward the front door and I followed after her, stuffing my dick back into my pants.

“Gwen, wait!”

She didn’t.

“Gwen, at least let me call you a car!”

“No thank you, Mr. Night!” she called over her shoulder, not even bothering to turn and face me. “I have to go. Another reporter from the Tribune will be in touch with you for the story, thank you for your time!”

And just like that, she was gone—out the front door and marching down the driveway away from me.

I knew better than to chase after her. That would only make things worse. But as I watched her go, I knew that there was no way this was going to be the end of things between us.

They’d only gotten started.

5

Gwen

What is wrong with you!? I thought angrily as I walked as quickly as I could down the driveway away from Harrison’s house. How long was it, anyway? By the time I reached the bottom, where a handful of reporters were still lingering around, I felt as if I’d walked for hours.

What had I just done? Not only had I broken the cardinal rule of being a reporter (not getting involved with the subject of your story), but I’d done it with Harrison Night, the dickhead that was here to ruin Derby and make millions while doing so.

What were you thinking!?

My pussy was still dripping wet and throbbing from what Harrison had just done to me. I’d been so close to coming that even quickly walking away from the house had almost thrown me over the edge.

At that moment, I hated myself.

I’d been covering the story on the Pines since it broke, and had been sent here to get down to the bottom of things, and what had I done? I’d let myself get seduced by the same bastard who I was supposed to be exposing as a greedy scumbag who didn’t care about anyone or anything beyond how many zeroes showed in his bank account.

As I reached the bottom of the driveway, the gate swung open to let me out. There were still a few reporters, and I recognized one of them as Trisha Bloom, a gossip columnist from Portsmouth. She waved as I came over to her.

“Hey, girl! Look at you getting the invite to the big house!” she exclaimed, shoving her microphone in my face. “So, are you the new girlfriend to Derby’s new billionaire bachelor?”

“Can we not right now, Trisha?” I asked nicely. “I was up there doing a story on my own.”

“Gwen, come on,” she smirked. “We all saw you get into that Lamborghini with him. Sitting on his lap? That seems like a lot more than covering a story to me.”

---