For a sec, I wondered why a guy like him needed sex toys. He was rich. With his status and looks, he could bag any girl. They'd line up just for a taste.
The BDSM gear tracked; rich alphas often craved control in bed. But the rest? My mind reeled.
Shaking off the thought, I unzipped the first bag. I arranged the cuffs, blindfolds, and crops on the sleek table. He nodded, his dark eyes tracking my every move.
"I hope nothing is missing," he drawled.
"Nothing, sir," I squeaked.
I couldn't meet his heavy gaze. I felt like a green coed. I was twenty-one; he was an older silver-fox in his late forties. The age gap and his raw aura made me feel tiny.
With the kink gear set, I reached into the next bag.
"Open them. I want to see," he ordered.
My hands shook. I pulled out the first item—a lifelike fleshlight molded with a tight pussy and asshole.
I grabbed the second—a sleek stroker with heat and vibration. Finally, I unboxed the last toy: a throated simulator. It mimicked a real mouth, packing a ribbed tongue for max pleasure.
He eyed the spread, then pinned me with his gaze. "How good are these?"
I gulped, slipping into my pitch, even as my heart hammered.
"These aren't cheap gimmicks," I started, laying it on thick. "They’re built to beat the real thing. Bodies tire out, but these go all night. The inside is soft, body-safe silicone."
I pointed to the stroker, my voice breathless. "They react to your heat, getting wet and warm. The suction mimics a tight vacuum you won't get from a girl. It hits every raw nerve. It'll make you cum hard in minutes."
As I spoke, a heavy ache pooled between my thighs. My pussy slicked with wetness. I didn't know if it was the dirty talk or the hot billionaire standing so close.
"Good pitch, but I’m not sold," he rumbled. He stepped into my space, his musky cologne wrapping around me. "What if I test them before I pay?"
My heart stuttered. Test them? Now? In a packed airport?
"You... you want to take them home?" I stammered.
"No. I’ll test them here. In this lounge."
Panic spiked. I scanned the room. Outside, I saw the busy terminal, crowds rushing by.
He caught my look. "One-way glass," he noted, waving at the huge windows. "We see out; they see black glass. Nobody can look in."
Still, my skin prickled. "What if someone walks in?"
"This is a private lounge," he brushed off. "Nobody comes to this wing. I’m not worried."
I never let guys test the merch, but I needed the cash. He was buying the whole lot for a crazy price.
"Alright," I said, backing up. "Give it a go. I'm sure you’ll love them. I'll wait outside."
I turned to bolt, but his hand shot out, gripping my arm. His firm touch sent a fierce jolt down my spine.
"Where are you going?" he rasped.
His gaze was so intense I had to look away, staring at his slick shoes to calm my racing pulse.
"Outside, sir," I squeaked. "To give you privacy."
"I don't know how to use these," he murmured, his grip loosening but his dark presence heavy. "Why don't you stay and guide me?"