Yes but first

You pull out of the studio parking lot, the engine humming softly as you navigate the evening traffic. Isabella sits in the passenger seat, staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The $7,000 check is folded in her lap, but she hasn’t looked at it again. The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable. Every few minutes you glance over, noting the way her jaw is clenched and her shoulders are hunched.

“Rough day, huh?” you say lightly, trying to break the tension. She doesn’t respond, just gives a small shrug and keeps her eyes on the passing streetlights.

You drive for another ten minutes, the city lights flickering across her face. Finally, as you turn onto a quieter residential street a few blocks from her apartment, you decide to push it.

“Look, Isabella… I went out of my way to get you this gig. I vouched for you. I even gave you a ride home when I didn’t have to.” You let the words hang for a second, your tone shifting from casual to expectant. “The least you could do is show a little gratitude. I think a nice blowjob would be fair. Right here, before I drop you off.”

Isabella’s head snaps toward you, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?” Her voice is sharp, but there’s exhaustion underneath it. “I just… I just did all of that back there. For less money than I was promised. And now you want me to—”

She cuts herself off, pressing her lips together. You can see the internal struggle playing across her face — anger, humiliation, and the cold calculation of someone who already crossed several lines tonight. The car slows to a stop at a red light. You reach over and rest a hand on her thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

“Come on. It’s just us. You already showed what you’re willing to do to make it. Don’t act like this is a big step now. Be a good girl and take care of me. I’ll make it quick.”

Isabella stares at you for a long moment, her breathing shallow. Then, with a defeated sigh, she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Fine,” she mutters, her voice barely audible. “Just… hurry up.”

She leans over the center console, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches for your zipper. You shift in the driver’s seat to give her better access, keeping one hand on the wheel as the light turns green and you start driving again slowly through the quiet streets. She pulls your cock out, already half-hard from the anticipation. For a second she just looks at it, then wraps her soft hand around the base.

Her warm breath ghosts over the head before she takes you into her mouth. She’s still hesitant at first, her tongue tentative, but you rest a hand on the back of her head and guide her deeper.

“That’s it… just like you did for the director,” you murmur, eyes flicking between the road and the sight of her dark hair bobbing in your lap. “Use your tongue more. Yeah… fuck, just like that.”

Isabella makes soft, wet sounds as she works you, her cheeks hollowing. She takes you deeper, fighting the awkward angle, her saliva starting to drip down your shaft. You groan quietly, hips twitching up to meet her mouth while keeping the car steady. The streetlights intermittently light up her face — flushed cheeks, watery eyes, lips stretched around your cock.

You keep one hand gently but firmly on her head, pushing her down further on the straighter stretches of road. “Good girl… suck a little harder. You owe me this much after everything I did for you tonight.”

She responds by sucking more eagerly, perhaps wanting to get it over with. Her hand strokes the base in time with her mouth, twisting slightly the way she’s learning men like. The car fills with the obscene sounds of her slurping and gagging softly as you hit the back of her throat.

As you near her apartment building, the pressure builds fast. You grip her hair tighter. “I’m close. Don’t pull off — swallow it.”

Isabella whimpers around your cock but doesn’t stop. A few seconds later you thrust up into her mouth and cum hard, groaning as you empty yourself down her throat. She struggles a little but swallows most of it, a small dribble escaping the corner of her lips as she finally lifts her head, gasping for air.

You tuck yourself back in, zipping up as you pull up in front of her building. Isabella wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, avoiding your eyes. Her voice is quiet and bitter when she speaks.