by Nikki Steele
I shook my head. “Archer is actually fine with me giving them the tape they are demanding. But I can’t—not until I see him again.”
He looked into my eyes for a long time. Then, reaching into his pocket, he sighed. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Tomorrow evening, Sound Stage 2.”
I frowned. “That’s the one with the new security system, right? The doors are all locked remotely, from central security? How will I get inside?”
“Leave it to me—I’ll make sure they’re open for you. They’ve set up for that Land of the Faerie blockbuster they’re shooting next week, so it should be deserted. Just… be careful, okay? If that kiss turns into something more, I don’t want you getting caught.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
Christian poked his tongue out at me. “Sure, I bet that’s what you said the last two times, as well.”
Chapter 7
Hopefully Christian had done his part; I’d done mine too, making several phone calls to a variety of people after talking to him.
Now was the hard part—having the guts to pull my grand plan off. I’d told Christian that I just needed to see Archer to explain what happened. But that was only part one of the plan I had spent all Sunday working out. I would see Archer again. Though he might not want to see me, I’d get to look in his eyes one last time and tell him what he meant to me. If I was lucky, I might get to show it, too.
I’d learned a lot about myself in the past few weeks, including the fact that I was capable of doing almost anything for the people I loved most. That journey had started when I’d taken the job with Archer—choosing to betray him for my Mom’s health and happiness. It had almost come full circle now—the things I was choosing to do, if my suspicions and plans proved correct, would now protect Archer, too.
That didn’t stop me from being nauseated with worry, though. My stomach did flip-flops all day Monday, and all day Tuesday, too. If I’d been a clutz before this started, the shattered plates and dints in furniture proved I’d become even more of one in the lead-up.
Finally, as the sun set, the nerves stopped. I didn’t have time for nerves any more. Whether for right or wrong, the plan had been set in action, the trap set, and it would all be over, one way or the other.
My dark blue sundress brought out my eyes. Matching heels gave me just that little bit more extra height. I’d even curled my poker-straight hair, though my bangs still fell down over my eyes. I made one last call on a small hand held radio as I stood outside the studio film stage. “Are we set?”
“Sure are, Miss Belleflower.”
“It’s Belle-” I stopped. “You know what, doesn’t matter. As long as you’re in position when the time comes.”
“Roger that. And just to confirm, this order is coming straight from Mr. Williams?”
“Of course,” I said, crossing my fingers. “Do you want to check with him? I have him right here beside me...” I held my breath.
“No, that’s fine. See you soon.”
The breath released. I opened the door to the set of Land of the Faerie, and walked inside.
* * *
I looked around in wonder, forgetting for just the briefest of moments why I’d walked inside.
I was standing in the middle of a mystical, otherworldly faerie glen. Tall trees rimmed the perimeter, with painted canvas backdrops of lush forest behind that. To one side, I could see a pond filled with lily pads and animatronic frogs—an adjoining film location, though it provided atmosphere and depth for this one, too.
Behind me, lights had been set up from the rafters and on stands; when I turned them on, the place glowed softly, artificial sunlight bathing the glade in a warm, gentle glow. Colorful butterflies rested here and there on leaves and in bushes. They were scotch-taped in place, but from anything over five inches away, the lie was startlingly pretty.
Under any other circumstance I’d have called the scene I was in breathtaking. With my heart racing like a speeding train, however, I couldn’t fully enjoy it. I began to pace, but stopped after the third time I knocked an expensive piece of film equipment over. After that I sat on a large boulder and forced myself to be still, waiting for Archer. He had to come. There could be no plan without him.
I’d been waiting for fifteen minutes when the door finally opened.
I breathed a sigh of relief—I’d almost given up hope—and then immediately discovered that I did have nerves again. This was it. It was now or never.
He didn’t notice me at first. His head was in a clipboard, ticking off pieces of equipment as he walked from one side of the stage to the other. I wondered briefly what lie Christian had told to get him here. Then he looked up. “Josie?” he asked, startled.
I tried to read his expression in the dim light. Surprise? Pleasure? Disappointment? It was difficult to say.
What if he didn’t even want to see me? What if he was only two seconds from turning around and walking out. I tried to answer him, but only the slightest of murmurs escaped my lips.
“Josie?”
I forced myself to try again. “I had to see you,” I finally croaked. It was all I could say, my tongue tied.
He moved as if toward a frightened deer. “I thought you didn’t want to ever see me again.”
“I thought you didn’t want to ever see me again,” I retorted.
“Why would I ever say that?”
“I don’t know, maybe something about a sex tape.” He’d reached me now; a hand’s width between us, though we weren’t touching. “It wasn’t me, Archer. You have to believe that.”
He looked at me like I’d said the sky was blue. “I know.”
I stepped backward. “Then why did you start dating again so soon? I mean…” I rushed, “not that we were dating, but still!” I did my best to look at him defiantly.
He looked genuinely perplexed. “What on earth are you talking about?”
My arms crossed my chest, and then I was hugging myself. “Chrystal Holmes.”
He shook his head. “What about her?”
“Don’t try and deny it,” I said hotly. “I saw you together, at the café, on Saturday.”
His face went briefly blank. Then recognition dawned. “My lunch date?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
He burst out laughing. “Josie, I’m helping her get married!” He looked at me. “To someone else,” he clarified. He walked toward me, reaching out to gently hold my shoulders. Damn he felt good. “We dated last year, but it was never serious. She was asking me on Saturday if I could help with her wedding video.”
I wanted to fold myself into those arms… but I pulled myself away, instead. “If that’s true, then why did you say you never wanted to speak to me again? Why didn’t you call me?”
He frowned. “It was you who said never to call, remember?”
I held up my hands. “When you phoned me, I said ‘we shouldn’t see each other for a while’. Not, ‘don’t call me ever.’”
He shook his head. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you told Christian. He said you never wanted to talk to me again. I was going almost mad with worry, but-”
I cocked my head. “Wait, he said what?”
“That you didn’t want to see me again,” Archer said patiently.
Now it was my turn to be indignant. “I never said that! He told me you didn’t want to see me again!”
He frowned. “I did talk about it not being the best idea for me to be seen for a while. But that’s one hell of a mix-up.”
I looked around the studio hesitantly. “Don’t go too hard on him. He’s the one that set up this meeting. If it wasn’t for him, I would never have been able to get through to you.” I looked up at Archer. “It broke my heart, thinking you didn’t want to see me. It really broke my heart. I thought you might think that I was the one that leaked those videos.”
“Oh, sweet girl.” He held out his arms. Now I did finally allow myself to be enfolded inside them. “I
never doubted you for a minute. Though it’s video, not videos—from what I can make out of the article, they seem to have one tape of us—probably that first time.
I looked up at him. “They have two tapes,” I said with a grimace. “That time last Friday night, as well.”
An eyebrow rose. “How do you know that?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet.” Then I looked up at him. “Can you trust me, one final time?”
He didn’t hesitate. “With all my heart, body and soul.” Then he looked around us, at the faerie glade. “That’s why we’re meeting here, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Christian organized the security.”
Archer looked at me. “That’s not all, is it? You’re planning something.”
I hesitated, wanting to tell him, but not daring, in case it ruined everything. Archer saw the look, and squeezed my arm. “It’s okay. I trust you—just tell me what I have to do.”
I smiled now, genuinely excited. “That’s easy. Kiss me, and make it a good one.”
Chapter 8
It was only meant to be one kiss, but… This man. This wonderful, beautiful man who had been by my side all along. We could do anything as long as we were together.
We broke apart, panting. Then my hands reached to the back of his head, my fingers entwining in his hair. I pulled his mouth toward me again, marveling at the zing that shot from my lips all the way down to my hips.
This was what I’d missed; what I’d feared I’d never experience again—a kiss like Rick gave Ilsa, our arms wrapping around each other’s necks as we reveled in the joys and fears of shared love.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered when I could.
“I was right here, always,” he said, kissing me again, holding me close. His mouth traced the curve of my jaw, my earlobe.
I buried my head in his neck, inhaling him. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me. Ever.” I felt his breath, hot in my ear, before he continued kissing down my neck to my nearly bare shoulders. Every inch of skin burned where his mouth touched. I’d been missing this so desperately. I’d thought I would never have it again.
We shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not now, not after everything that had already happened after we made love out in the open. But I couldn’t stop—I didn’t want to.
His hands moved slowly up and down my back, stroking gently. But for all his gentleness he was still lighting an inferno inside me, turning me on in a way a rougher touch wouldn’t. This wasn’t the same desperate passion I’d felt for him before. This was softer now, sweeter. Like coming together after being pulled apart. It had only been a few days, but it had felt like years; like the end of us. I wanted to savor him.
He gently nudged one of the straps of my dress down over my shoulder, then kissed my bare flesh as he gathered me into his arms. He laid me down beside fake plastic butterflies on moss covered ground and I couldn’t think of anywhere more beautiful in the entire world.
It was like we were in some sort of fantasy, a private glade created only for us; two lovers that had left the beaten path and ended up in another world. Archer kissed his way across my chest; I closed my eyes as his mouth lingered near the spot where my skin stopped and the dress began. He ran the tips of his fingers over that area, back and forth, teasing me. I didn’t make a sound at first, but couldn’t help my moan when his hand moved lower, and cupped my breast through the fabric.
My nipples stood out against the thin cotton. They’d been aching to be touched; when his thumb strummed across one and then the other I arched my back, thrusting myself upward, wanting more. He was lying beside, nearly on top of me, and I hooked his leg with mine, drawing him closer. I felt a hard lump against my thigh, and a rush of warmth coursed through me. I remembered that pressure against my leg. I remembered how good that part of him had felt.
He touched me with his fingers again, this time starting from my ankle and working his way slowly up the outside of my leg. I moaned, my eyes closed again. “Open your eyes,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
I turned my head to him. He smiled, then touched me again, running his fingers up my other leg. I bit my lip against another moan, forcing my eyes to stay open. I felt so vulnerable, watching him watching me. When his hand reached the hem of my dress and dragged it up, I whimpered.
“Shhh… Just relax.” Again I longed to turn my head away. But I didn’t. This time, when his hand brushed along my thigh and the curve of my backside, I moaned openly without closing my eyes. My dress was at my waist, now.
“Tell me how it feels,” he whispered, his hand continuing its exploration. “I want to know how good I can make you feel.”
I was unsure, hesitant. I’d never really done dirty talk before. But if there was anyone I was willing to try for, it was him. “That feels… so nice…” I replied softly. “When you touch me there… mmm…”
“Softer or rougher?”
“Softer,” I moaned. “It feels so much better.” A gentle caress, this time grazing my panties ever so softly. I gasped, and he smiled.
He spread my legs apart, now stroking the insides of my thighs. My hands clenched into fists as I tried to control the lightning shooting off inside me. He smiled at my wide eyes.
Every upward stroke inched closer to the warm center of my need for him; I became more vocal in response. “Please…please…”
“Please what?”
“Touch me. Please…” My body was on fire, desperate for more. It needed release.
His hand cupped me, there, and I almost shot up off the floor; my hips bucking and jerking involuntarily. I was still covered, and the torture was almost too much to take as his hand ran over me. The lace blunted the feeling of his fingers but at the same time heightened my need, adding pressure to the area he touched, distributing his strokes over a larger area. “More,” I groaned. “I want more.”
He pressed harder, fondling me through the fabric. I circled my hips, meeting his pressure with my own.
“That’s right… make yourself feel good for me,” he panted. I realized this was turning him on, too. It gave me confidence.
I began to strain against him, closing my eyes now, whimpering with each circle of my hips as they moved faster and faster, his own fingers adding to the rhythm. The pressure of him against me was delicious. He was working me into a frenzy, and I began to cry out, getting close.
Through the haze of pleasure I heard his heavy breathing. He was still watching me, and it was hot. I could turn him on. My pleasure could please him. The pressure inside of me began to bubble over. And then, suddenly, his fingers slipped below the lace of my panties, and the sensation exploded. I climaxed in glorious, shuddering joy as I bucked upon his fingers.
When I opened my eyes he was still looking down at me, love and lust mixed in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, breathless.
His intense arousal, just from watching me, got me going all over again. I reached down, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. I slipped a hand inside, rubbing my palm over him. My mouth brushed against his, gently, teasingly. He let out a shuddering sigh, twitching under my hand.
“Look at me,” I whispered. He opened his eyes, grinning for a split second before increased pressure from my hand had him groaning. I looked deep into his eyes, searching them, watching the pleasure and torment play across his face. His breathing was harder, faster.
“You should stop or else this is going to end right now,” he whispered in a raspy voice.
I grinned. “I’m sure you’ve got more than one in you.”
“After the last few days without you? Many.”
“Then we do not have a problem,” I said. I slid down his body as he lay beside me.
“What are you doing?”
I undid the buckle on his pants, pulling them down quickly. “Watch and see.” I leaned down to breathe hot air over the bulge in his designer boxers. He twitched, and I glanced up to see Archer
propped on his elbows, watching with greedy eyes. I winked, then dipped to grab his boxers with only my teeth. I pulled them down.
He sprung free. It was just as big as I remembered—even bigger, perhaps, because my face had never been this close. I blew on it gently, watching with delight as the action made it jerk sharply before settling back down atop him.
Above me, Archer growled. “You’re teasing me.”
The tip of my tongue reached out to flick at his base. “Not for long.” Then I licked along his length, as if enjoying the world’s greatest ice-cream. His skin on my tongue tasted of arousal. The sound Archer made as I left the glistening trail brought heat to my loins.
I licked him again. Then I took him with my hand—the first time my fingers had touched there since we started, and slid my mouth slowly over his head. Archer groaned.
He was big. So big that I knew I wouldn’t have a hope of sinking all the way down. But that didn’t matter—what I could fit in my mouth was more than enough to get the job done. My lips slid over his velvet ridge and I rolled my tongue over the tip of him. He gave a garbled cry as I sucked myself down, then made the noise again as I slid back up and down once more.
Soon I had a rhythm going, my hand gripping him just below my lips to mimic its motions. I tried to imagine what he must feel as he watched me bobbing upon him—was his pleasure the same as I received when he did this to me? Was it all tingly—a growing heat that spread like fire through the hips and then the heart? Or was it different—sharp spikes each time I hit a sensitive area, building until he thought he must explode?
My hand started to twist as I worked, swiveling one way up, then in the opposite direction down. His body tensed as soon as I did, a sure sign that we were heading in the right direction. He was struggling stay upon his elbows and not slump back in bliss, and I grinned. Whatever he felt, it must be good.
Faster and faster I moved, until soon my mouth couldn’t bob fast enough. I rose up off him, letting my hands do the heavy work; a flurry of activity as I hovered above, my tongue flicking out to lick little laps of the tip. His eyes were wide; almost perfect saucers. The tip of him suddenly became salty on the flat of my tongue—he was almost there.