by Virna DePaul
“I want you, Marissa,” he says against my skin. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. You drive me crazy.”
I’ve never had any man say something like that to me, and it just makes me hotter. His mouth is insistent, kissing across my belly, dipping into my belly button. Before I realize it, he’s untying the strings of my bikini bottom and then I’m completely naked, outside, with Simon Dale’s scorching gaze upon me.
“Damn,” he breathes, the single word reverent. “You’re beautiful, darling.”
Normally I’d get embarrassed and disclaim any compliment like that, but with Simon, I believe it. I stretch upward, pushing my breasts out toward him. His eyes narrow at me.
“Are you just going to stare, or are you going to touch me?” I can’t believe I’m saying something like that. But with him, I’m a seductress.
“Oh, I’ll touch you all right.” He nips at my belly before kissing down my hip, licking at the crease at my hip. He spreads my legs, touching the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I hear him mutter words against my skin, but I’m too high on his touch to hear them. It’s like the world has disappeared and it’s only us two on this entire planet.
He spreads my legs further apart. I’m stupidly glad that I got that bikini wax, although I have a feeling Simon wouldn’t care either way. I know I’m wet for him. I can feel myself pulsing, begging for his touch.
“So pretty and pink,” he says, touching my mound. “I wonder how you taste, though?”
He parts my folds and touches just the tip of his tongue against me. I moan. He flicks his tongue, tasting, but it’s like a butterfly’s wing. But as I beg for more, he starts licking me with the flat of his tongue, and it drives me wild.
I fling an arm over my eyes, my hips lifting against him. He has to hold me down as he licks and kisses and then sucks, his mouth fastening on my clit. Pleasure spirals inside of me. I can see stars behind my eyelids. He starts swirling his tongue in circles around my clit and playing with my entrance, and when he pushes two fingers inside of me, I burst. I cry out into the trees, my entire body shaking in ecstasy. He keeps licking me, continuing my pleasure, and I’m about to push him away because it’s too much. It’s all too much.
He kisses my thighs again, petting me, letting me calm down. I open my eyes and gaze at the trees above me.
“Ready for more, darling?” I hear him ask.
My body thrills at the question. I sit up and lean toward him. “Ready whenever you are,” I say with a smile before I kiss him.
12
Simon
When Marissa finally took off her cover-up, I must admit, I wasn’t expecting a string bikini. Fire engine red, for god’s sake. I’d teased her and had been hoping she’d go with some kind of two-piece, but when she tossed that offending garment over her head and presented me with her luscious body in a barely-there bikini?
I think I may have lost my mind a little.
Wearing swim trunks, I didn’t have much coverage for my growing erection, but every time she moved, those breasts of hers bounced. And when she got up? Her ass right there? I wanted to grab hold of it, run my hands all over it, and even spank it for good measure. Well, I was hot and bothered, to say the least.
Now I’m kissing Marissa underneath the trees and she’s completely naked, all of that white skin bared to me. I know she’s self-conscious about her body. I wish I could convince her that she has no reason to be so self-conscious. She’s not skinny, that’s true, but I’ve never been much for beanpoles. I prefer to have something to hold onto. Marissa’s got curves for days and I just want to sink into her.
I kiss her until she’s flat on her back again. She breaks the kiss to say, “You’re wearing too much clothing.”
She’s right. I strip off my trunks in record speed, revealing my hard cock, and her gasp only fuels my ardor. Resting my weight on my upper arms, I kiss her and lick at her mouth. She twines her arms around my neck, sifting her fingers through my hair. At the press of our naked bodies together, we both groan.
Thankfully, we’re secluded here in this copse of trees and there’s enough of a hill that no one from the house can see us. But at this point, I don’t care if Noble and everyone else can see us. I finally have Marissa in my arms. I finally get to taste her, to make her come again.
My cock presses against her soft belly. She reaches down and strokes me, and I shut my eyes. I roll over onto my side to give her better access. Her fingers barely meet around the middle.
“You’re big,” she says, smiling. “I’m impressed.”
I let out a tight laugh. At the moment, she could tell me the moon is made of cheese and it wouldn’t register. I can only focus on her soft hand around my cock, stroking, pulling, squeezing, driving me mad.
I can feel my balls draw up and I know I’m close. I move her hand away.
“I want to be inside you.” I kiss her chin. Then, as I’m about to spread her legs and plunge into her warm depths, I swear.
“What is it?” she asks.
I press my forehead to hers. “Rubbers,” I grind out. “We don’t have any.”
She seems confused before realizing what I mean. “Oh, oh, that’s…” She thinks a moment. “I’m on the pill, and I know I’m clean.”
I look up at her, hope bursting anew. “I’m clean, too,” I assure her.
Her answer is to spread her legs and hitch her hips upward, brushing her wet sex against my cock.
That’s all the answer I need. Leaning down to kiss her, I take my cock and fit it to her entrance. As I slowly enter her, we both groan. She’s tight—so tight. I’m not sure how long I’ll last. I push until I’m balls-deep inside her, and then I kiss her, just rejoicing in being inside her. Completely inside her, with nothing between us.
Her breasts rise and fall with her quick breaths. I can’t help but kiss her on her breasts as I start thrusting, filling her over and over again. She moans, and the sound shoots straight to my cock, making me even harder than before. She’s so hot and wet and tight that my brain is about to shut off completely. I can only concentrate on how good she feels around my cock, how sweet she tastes, and how she says my name in that breathy voice.
I start pounding into her, my thrusts deep and sure. A low sound starts in her throat, and she tips her head back. Sitting up, I grab her hips and use that as leverage to fuck her harder. Our bodies slap together, and I’m glad we didn’t go inside, because everyone in that house would’ve heard us. I watch as my cock fills her and it only serves to drive me crazier, seeing her pussy gripping me, over and over again.
Her hips are canted upward to match my thrusts, and I can feel her tightening around me. She bites her hand, closing her eyes as her body starts its climb toward orgasm.
I’m about to lose it. My rhythm gets jagged, desperate. I growl her name, gripping her hips, and then I’m coming inside her warm, tight body.
I collapse by her side, breathing heavily. I’m covered in a light film of sweat, and as the breeze brushes over us, I shiver. Marissa turns on her side and traces patterns on my shoulder. She’s flushed and looks like she’s been marvelously fucked, and I love it.
Kissing her, I have the stray thought that maybe this could be real. That this doesn’t have to stay as some farce to get a couple of asshole producers on my side. Marissa is smart, funny, and beautiful, and the sex—I can’t even begin to describe the sex. Kissing her harder, I can feel myself getting ready for another round when reality suddenly crashes down upon me.
It doesn’t matter if I want to make it real. She’s a Woodcrest. I’m a fucking B-Actor from a rough neighborhood in the East-End of London who means nothing.
It can’t be real. It can just be really good, gloriously amazing sex. Isn’t that what she had said? Just sex. I have to keep it together and remember that. We have to keep to the deal and keep our feelings out of it.
I’m jarred out of my thoughts by a noise coming from behind the trees.
“What was that?�
�� Marissa’s eyes are darting around.
I glance in the bushes and the trees, and I laugh softly when I see what disturbed us. I point it out to her. “Just a squirrel. Maybe he wanted to join us.”
She slaps me lightly on my abdomen. “Don’t be gross. Poor squirrel. It probably just wanted to get some acorns and then found us like this.”
“Poor squirrel? I should call him a lucky squirrel, to get an eyeful of a woman as beautiful as you.”
A blush crawls up her face, and I have to admit, I’m surprised she can still blush after what we did. She looks away, suddenly intent on finding the various parts of her bikini that were strewn across the grass. I find my trunks and hand her the top I’d stuffed into the pocket earlier in the lake.
“We should probably go inside,” she says, tying the bikini on without really paying attention to how it looks. The ties are lopsided and she’s flushed and rather starry-eyed, and I have a feeling if anyone with half a brain cell sees her they’d know immediately what we’d been doing.
Pulling on my trunks—which are wet and cold now—I’m about to say something stupid. I can feel it on my tongue, despite telling myself this was just sex two minutes ago. Part of me sees a future together, and since when have I ever wanted that? Not since Janelle, and look how badly that turned out. I need to concentrate on the other, more male part of me, which just wants to ask her if we can do this again. Soon. Very, very soon.
So I say nothing. We go back inside, where Noble gives us a onceover and then tells us we’re welcome to get ready before coming down for dinner.
After taking a quick shower I meet Marissa downstairs, where she’s talking to Tilly.
The other guests are milling about, drinking cocktails before dinner is served. I have to restrain myself from sitting down next to Marissa and talking only to her. She looks fresh and clean, wearing a white sundress, her hair in a braid down her back.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I turn to see Noble standing behind me, sipping a glass of red wine. He looks slightly more tan from being outdoors, although that might just be the light. I’ve yet to figure out how he ticks. He’s always so self-assured, so serious. Sometimes I’m not sure he’s ever gotten angry, or cried, or done something stupid, like fall down the stairs or get drunk.
“It’s been a lovely day,” I reply, raising my glass.
“It has. Spires always throws a great party. Usually my wife joins me, but she had some club event today. Book club? Knitting club? It may have been the club that involves dressing up cats.”
I laugh, but when I realize Noble isn’t joking, I cough and take a sip of my beer. “Does your wife often dress up, uh, cats?”
“Only when she has nothing better to do.” He cracks what I think is a smile, but I can’t really be sure.
“Well, that sounds quite—interesting.”
“It’s an absurd hobby,” Noble replies, deadpan.
I turn slightly, catching Marissa’s gaze. I give her the “help me, this is the worst” look, and she has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. She turns to Tilly and says something before she gets up to come save me.
“Ah, Miss Woodcrest,” Noble’s eyes light up when he sees her in a way they never do when he looks at me. He takes her hand, like she’s some character from a Jane Austen novel. “How are you enjoying your stay?”
“This place is beautiful. I’m so glad we were invited.”
“You two seemed to have a nice time in the lake,” Noble comments, swirling his wine. “Did you stay out there for very long?”
It almost seems like he’s teasing us, and Marissa blushes. I thought Noble only had two modes: sour, and full-out tantrum. Does he even know what teasing entails?
“We had a very nice swim. So much that I had to help Marissa back to shore.”
She gives me a look. “That’s a lie, and he knows it. Don’t listen to a word he says.”
Noble smiles, a very small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” is all he says, very cryptically.
A frisson of fear curls around my heart. Does that mean I’m not leading man material? Now he’s gazing at her, a little questioningly, as if he’s trying hard to see us together. Does Noble know that Marissa and I have an arrangement? Then again, how would he know? Even Janelle only suspects. The only two who know for sure what we’re doing are Marissa and me.
A part of me wishes he had seen us out there, behind the trees. If so, it would have wiped that question right off his face and he’d have given me the part.
Fuck. That’s a rotten thing to think, where Marissa is concerned. It would mean I’m just using her to get this part. But wait, isn’t that what I’m doing? I look at Marissa, who looks so fresh and innocent and beautiful. Yes, I’m using her, but she’s using me, too.
I smile stiffly at him, hoping that I can speak to him in private later and reassure him that Marissa is my one and only, the love of my life. Noble moves on and I start to get into the groove of the party. I do the requisite small talk with Dakota, just so that the producers can properly envision us on the screen and see how nice a couple we make. I get a good feeling from it. Dakota’s a sweet woman, a strict professional, and it’s no doubt being on the set with her would be a dozen steps up from the Alien Love set. Though my list of credits isn’t nearly as impressive as hers, she’s friendly and not condescending in the least.
When dinner is ready, we leave for the dining room, and I tap Marissa on the shoulder.
“How did it go with her?” she asks.
“Lovely,” I say honestly.
“You make a stunning couple. I can’t help being a little jealous, knowing you might be on screen with her.”
“Remember what I said about film being fantasy. What we had this afternoon? That’s real.”
I freeze. Real? Fake? It’s all getting jumbled in my head. I know I’m an actor, but this is damn confusing. And it shouldn’t be. This is an act, a means to an end. I can see on her face that she must be wondering, too, because her eyes widen slightly in confusion, but she doesn’t say anything more.
After eating and socializing well into the evening, everyone heads to their rooms for the night. As soon as we’re alone, I toss myself onto the bed. To my surprise, Marissa immediately leaps onto the bed, as well, and I wrap my arms around her. She’s normally so pensive, so concerned about doing the right thing, but right now she looks happy. Free. My chest squeezes at the notion that I’ve contributed to that. But then I remind myself she drank wine at dinner and afterward. She’s probably more buzzed than anything else, but that’s fine. So long as she’s happy, I’m finding I’m happy too.
“You’re having a good time?”
“Oh yes. When we were together earlier—well, I’ve never felt anything like that before, Simon. It was amazing. I’m just trying to get used to doing things that feel good but don’t mean anything. Like you do.”
Like I do. I stiffen. Suddenly, I feel dirty. Is that what she thinks of me? Of course that’s what she thinks of me. I’m the man the paparazzi believes dates and dumps indiscriminately.
She smiles tightly. “Anyway, we should do it again. A lot more.”
Of course that’s what I want, but why do I feel so terrible about it? Like I’m dragging her down to my low level. I rub my chest, like my heart hurts. I know I told myself this was only going to be for a bit of fun, that it wasn’t supposed to be real. After the ball, we’ll go our separate ways. The sex is just a bonus. A great bonus, but a bonus nonetheless. She’ll find some other man to date and maybe marry.
At that last thought, I clench my fists.
Just sex. I can do this. I’ve done it a hundred times before.
But why does this time feel so different?
Why does it feel like even if I do win the part, in the end I’ll lose?
13
Simon
The next evening, standing outside Marissa’s house in my tuxedo, I feel like everything is finally coming together for my career. Earlier in
the day, at the lake house, we’d had brunch with Noble and Spires. They’d hinted they were very close to making a decision about casting Perfect Union. Then before we’d headed back to our own homes, Marissa and I had returned to our room for another bout of mind-blowing sex.
I grin. Who would’ve thought Marissa Woodcrest would be such a vixen in the sack? I must admit I’d hoped she would be, but it’s better than I imagined.
I’m still grinning like an idiot when the door opens. Marissa, dressed in a slinky blue gown, stands before me. My jaw drops. Her dark hair cascades down her back in soft curls, and when she turns, asking “How do I look?” I just about lose my damn mind seeing the open back on the dress. It’s a simple number, but sexy as hell.
My lust-filled brain wonders if we could skip the evening altogether and just stay here so I can strip that dress right off of her. Preferably with my teeth.
But seeing as how I’ve said a grand total of zero words, Marissa’s getting self-conscious. “Is it that bad?” she asks, fiddling with her hair.
“No—I mean, it’s not bad. It’s so good you took all the words out of my head.” I take her hand and kiss it. “I don’t see how I’m going to be able to concentrate with you looking like that, darling.”
She smiles, flushing slightly. “Flatterer.”
As I take her to the car, I take a nice, long look at her ass, which is barely concealed by the thin fabric. “Down boy,” I mutter to myself. I can’t maul her before we even arrive.
An hour later, when we enter the ballroom, I can’t help but be impressed. It’s one of the most expensive venues in the city, and although I’ve never been to one of the famous Noble and Spires events, I’ve heard the rumors about the producers going all-out. A chandelier hangs overhead while the floor is a pale gray marble, sparkling in the low light. Candles flicker everywhere and the attendees walk about in their expensive gowns or tuxedos, violin music providing a backdrop.