by Whitley Gray
He moaned against me, licked me, sucked me, and nipped at tender flesh until I was sure I was flying. I writhed beneath him, one hand at my breast, squeezing until the pain was everywhere, white-hot and wonderful.
Everything inside me escalated until, without warning, I exploded. I cried out something. A word, a sound, or a name. I had no idea. It was something that came flying out of me in the heat of the moment.
My first orgasm. A real one. Not the kind I gave myself and nothing like the ones Jeremy had given me. Hell, those had been a joke. These…these were real. And I was real. And Aaron was real.
Still shuddering, I used my legs to try to push him higher. “Now, please, Aaron.”
He shook his head, his stubble sending electric shocks across the inside of my thighs. “More.”
“No, now. Fuck me now.”
He looked up at me, across my belly. The smile was in his eyes. “Beg me.”
“Don’t make me hit you. My ankles are right behind your head. Please, do it now.”
His gaze locked on mine, hot and raw blue. “Do what now?” His fingers slid inside me, drawing circles. My head fell back, hitting the floor. I saw stars, but I didn’t care. All pain was pleasure. “Do what? This?” His finger strayed farther behind me, to parts even more sensitive. My wetness made his finger slide easily against my skin.
I arched into the contact, surprising myself.
His touch gave me more energy than I knew I had. I moved against his finger, against his touch.
“Yes.”
“Or.” He kissed my inner thigh. I felt his fingers shift forward to my pussy, sliding into me, deep, smooth, and easy. “Do you want me here?”
“Yes.” How many hands did the man have? I hadn’t thought to count his fingers. Maybe he was like that pitcher with six fingers on each hand. Oh, lucky me.
He lapped his way up my pussy again, his tongue circling my clit and making me dizzy. “Can you take all of me, Grace?” Before I could answer, he slid fingers into my pussy. I couldn’t believe how good it felt, filled in every way possible, and I grinned the grin of a woman on the verge of intense pleasure. I heard the same languorous tone in his voice. “I see that smile, so I’ll take that as a yes.”
When he moved, backing away from me, the chill in the room drifted across my bare skin. I whimpered, but his hands at my hips steadied me, turning me over. “Can you get up on your knees?”
It shook me from the spell to wonder if I had the courage to let him take me from behind. This was new ground for me, but I’d heard it wasn’t necessarily pleasant at first, if ever. All it took was the gentle, firm touch of his hands to remind me there was no resisting. The man had already been everywhere with me, and deep in my heart, I had to admit it felt good to please him, to make him desire me.
His fingers slid into my pussy, again dancing, tickling, touching, and exploring. Then he moved, shifting, and I felt something hot and solid. His fingers spread my lips, and as easily and naturally as breathing, he slid his full length into me.
My spine all but dissolved. “Sweet Jesus,” I moaned, complete.
“Good?” He moved a little inside me, as if testing my depths.
I nodded. “More.”
He complied, but again he was slow and cautious. Suddenly impatient, I reached behind me and touched his hand on the small of my back. His fingers were slick from my juices.
“You want this?”
“More. All of it.”
He pushed a little more, a little harder. “Hmm. Like this?”
“More. Please. Harder.” Holy crap, did I ask him to fuck me harder? But everything he’d done to me felt so damn good. I needed a reminder that this wasn’t just a crazy dream. When I sat down to lunch three days from now, I’d remember how good it felt to have Aaron Elias give me everything he had with all his strength.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was tender and edged with need. I knew how hard he was. I could feel it. It made me crazy. I reached between our legs and palmed his balls. “Grace! Don’t! Fuck, you’ll make this end too fast.”
“Don’t care.”
“I do. I plan to take my time.” And with that he moved again. Slow, painfully slow and painfully delicious. I moved with his rhythm, trying to relax and trying to go easy. “I’m going to take all the time we have. I want to make this last all night.”
“It can. Next time. Just fuck me.”
I felt him shudder behind me as his control vanished. He growled, “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you? Like this? No wait. Like this.” Before I knew it, he had me on my back again. He was between my legs, his tip making contact with my heat. “This is what you want?”
I nodded, my hands clawing for him to come closer, to come deeper, and to come inside.
“What is it you want? Me? Or do you want that guy in the movies? The guy that everybody wants. The—”
I squeezed my legs around him, desperately trying to pull him into me. “Dammit, you talk too much.” With all my strength, I pulled myself up to meet him and to join him.
With what sounded like a death moan, he collapsed on top of me, his body pumping hard into me. I felt the burn of the carpet against my back. I picked up his rhythm, moving with him and thrusting against him as he thrust into me, but it was too much speed. I couldn’t keep up. There were no more words for us as his hips slammed mine with that wonderful ache of our intimate contact.
I’d already come once, so I couldn’t imagine it happening again. Surely I didn’t have one more like that in me, or I’d die of wonderful. But I was sure this one was all about him. As I felt his body tensing and tightening with each thrust, my own body wrapped tighter around him, and damned if I didn’t explode right there. A moment later, he moaned and filled me with more heat than the roaring fire beside us could ever hope to offer on its best day.
Chapter Three
The real world slowly floated back into my head at about same time cold air floated around my skin. Though I doubted he could see me very well in the early evening light, I wanted to hide from his gaze and the awkward realization that I’d thrown my body at a movie star. Much the way hundreds of others had done before me. And he’d taken me up on the offer as he’d probably done countless times before.
All those times my mother told me not to kiss on the first date? If she knew I’d done this, she’d kill me. If that wasn’t enough, every time I came up to visit, I’d remember what we did in front of their fireplace. Hell, I’d probably have rug burn scars on the back of my shoulders for the rest of my life. I’d need a tattoo to hide them.
Then there was the thought that we’d failed to have a conversation about birth control. It had been a while since I needed to think about it, and for the last few years, “that time of the month” was nothing more than an inconvenience. Going by the calendar, if memory served, I should be safe, but that was just one of many concerns that swirled around my brain as reality sank back in. My life was going to be more than a little tense till the old monthly visit, and that was only the half of it.
Aaron’s sigh fluttered past my ear. The motion of his breathing rustled his bare chest against mine. I loved how it felt. All worldly trepidations aside, I couldn’t deny I loved how I felt: naked, vulnerable, sexy, and all woman.
“Yup, that seals it,” he said. “When I get back to California, I’m buying every bottle of Cabernet in the state.”
Laughter bubbled up out of me. I couldn’t resist it or stop it, and it felt almost as good as feeling his body still embedded deep in mine. “Save me one.”
His head lifted, and his eyes met mine, cold blue seriousness. “Deal.” But then his smile broke across his face, and my heart stuttered all over again. “You’re amazing.”
For a moment I wanted to believe him. Common sense and past history shoved my dreams aside. He was as hormone riddled as I was, still basking in afterglow. When the real world intruded again, he’d realize the truth and run as far and as fast as he could. “Amazing” sou
nded nice but it wasn’t real. None of this was. I was in Hollywood. Or, really, Hollywood was in me.
I shoved at him. “You’re heavy.” I bit my lip, regretting the words because it meant he’d be moving off me. Away. As soon as he did, I missed him. I wanted him back. But dreams didn’t last, and reality wouldn’t be denied. Might as well accept it now.
“Sorry. I had to put on a few pounds for my last role.” He rolled to his side. The room went cold again.
I turned to face the dying fire so he didn’t have to see me, all of me. “Really? That must’ve been tough.”
“It was.” I heard him rustling behind me, gathering his clothes, dressing again.
“Yeah, getting paid to get fluffy. Tough stuff.”
He chuckled. “Not as easy as it looks. When shooting is over, you have to lose it again if you’re going to get the next job.” His hand warmed my shoulder. “Lucky for me, I think we burned a few calories.” He kissed the place his hand had been. “You hungry? If there’s nothing here, maybe we should go out.”
“In the snow?” I wanted to curl tighter into myself. The room was getting colder, and the fire was fading. I didn’t face him as I collected my clothes. Another memory I’d revisit every time I came back to the mountains: finding my bra hanging off the mantel like a porno Christmas stocking.
“If it’s a choice between that or starving,” he said. “I’ll drive.”
“Not my car, you won’t.”
“Pardon?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Do you drive stick?”
“Did you see All or Nothing? The Lotus was a stick.”
“Was that you driving it?”
“Of course it was. I do most of my own stunts. And before you ask, the insurance company won’t let me do all my own. Things blowing up, for instance. Falling from great heights.” For a moment he looked awkward, like he got caught talking in church. He stood, taking his jeans up with him.
I gasped at the revelation. “You’re afraid of heights.”
“Technically I’m afraid of the falling, but they’re in the same family. Please tell me your parents don’t use an electric can opener.” His bare feet padded into the kitchen. I liked the sound of it. I couldn’t explain why it made my heart tap against my ribs. He looked like he felt comfortable.
Good. That makes one of us. Maybe I could get there if Dad had any more cabernet hidden in the cupboards.
“So tell me something,” I called to him from the living room, tugging up my jeans, going commando because I couldn’t find my underwear, and I was damn well going to have to find them before I left because to let my parents find them would be impossible to explain. At least, without giggling. Right before being disowned. “Which actress you kissed was the best?”
Cabinet doors opened. Closed. Opened. “Michael Lena. Hands down.”
I froze with my T-shirt over my head. “Wait, he’s a guy.”
“Yes. I suppose cat food’s out of the question?”
“Jeez, yes. And wait a second. Go back. Are you bi?”
His laugh rippled through me. “Hell, no.”
I shoved my feet into my sneakers and walked into the kitchen, twisting with each step and trying to get comfortable, but it wasn’t easy. The seam of my jeans pressed against my clit, and since I was already swollen and tender there, each step was an excruciating pleasure. Who needed a fire in the fireplace when my blushing could keep us both warm for a week?
“So what we just did? And you’re gay?”
He stopped midcrouch, his head halfway into the lower kitchen cupboards. “Over the last half hour, did I somehow give you that impression?”
“No. That’s why I’m confused.”
Even in the dim light, I saw his smile through the darkness like a lighthouse in the depths of midnight.
“Okay, let me clear this up for you.” He stood, unfurling himself to his full height. Suddenly he looked imposing, looming over me, his eyes locked on me, raking over my body with the same effect as his hands. “I’ve been asked that question before, and that’s my standard answer. It’s meant tongue-in-cheek.”
“So to speak.”
God, that grin was heart-stopping. “Yes, so to speak. No, I’m not gay.” He rolled his eyes. “God, that’s a rumor I don’t need getting around.”
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“No, there isn’t. Except I’m not. I wouldn’t turn down the role if someone offered me a good one but in real life, no. I’d still win that question in I Never.” He stood in front of me. Jesus, when did a few inches turn into miles? The man had a presence about him. Like he could suck all the air out of the room by being there. “Did we ever declare a winner? We should call it a tie before we kill each other. Food first. Truth or Dare later.”
“How’re we going to play that? It’s snowing out and the lights are off. What is there to do?”
The sideways glance he shot me said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” But then he nodded toward the kitchen drawers. “Do your parents keep a flashlight around?”
I snapped my fingers. “Yes! In the bedroom. Wait here.”
He called out behind me, “I sure as hell wasn’t going to go in your parents’ bedroom. Well, no, wait. How soft is the bed?”
“Not happening!” I shouted back, tripping on the door saddle and almost going face-first into the headboard. I knew mom had night phobias, and she kept a flashlight in her nightstand. Reaching in, I hoped to God it was a flashlight. It was long, cylindrical, and had a button on one side. Eyes shut tight, I hit the button and…didn’t hear buzzing. Eyes open, a faint circle of light appeared against the wall.
“Oh, thank God.”
“What?”
I shot him with the flashlight. It barely reached the end of the hallway. “You don’t want to know. I found one, but it’s low on batteries.”
“Better than nothing. Give it here.”
I tucked it under my arm. “I can find us food, thank you. I know this place better than you do.”
“I’m hungrier.”
“I doubt that. You smelled like cookies when I saw you on the road.”
His laugh wrapped around me warm, soft, and tight. I welcomed it. “You could smell that?”
I tapped my nose. “I can smell the difference between grades of gasoline. There was a lot of butter in those things.”
“And they were good too. I might have one…” He scratched his head. “Uh, back in the car.”
“That’s not going to do us a lot of good.” I pushed him aside and dropped to sit on the floor in front of the cabinet where I knew they kept the canned goods.
“Well, it’s not all bad. Like I said, if we get desperate, I’ll drive back to the car and get them. There has to be at least one.”
I pushed past the tin foil, plastic wrap, wax paper, oil, and cat food. “When did my parents get a cat? And anyway,” I said toward him. “If there’s only one, who gets it?”
He crouched behind me. I could smell the heat of sex emanating from him. It made my mouth water and my nipples stand on edge, glass-cutting hard. “I’ll share. Hell, I’ll feed it to you.” His breath warmed my ear.
“You would, huh?” The cupboard was empty. That was my fault. Until Aaron’s appearance on the side of the road, I’d had every intention of stopping at the convenience store and picking up enough supplies to put me into a mind-numbing junk-food coma. His hand landed on my thigh, sliding down to my knee, and back up again. “What’re you doing?”
His chest pressed against my back, and his arms hung over mine. “Keeping you warm. I thought you might be cold. Find anything?”
With him covering my body like a wool blanket, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever be cold again so long as he stayed right there.
“Not yet.” Not that his touch would allow me to see straight, even if there were anything to eat in the house. “Wait. Is that…?” I reached in and pulled out a tub of premade cake frosting. “Mom! How many times…?” I slamme
d the tub on the cupboard floor.
“What? She never made you a birthday cake before?”
“Not with this crap! It’s all preservatives and chemicals. The woman taught me how to make homemade buttercream frosting from scratch, and then I find this. I feel so betrayed.” But I looked twice at the container. Chemicals, yes but also sugar. The kind of stuff that might keep me alive for a night.
Aaron chuckled in my ear. “I didn’t know I was trapped in a ski house with Martha Stewart.”
“Not even close but when my niece and nephew have a birthday, who gets asked to make the cupcakes? This girl.” I sighed. “Well, it’s something.” I peeled back the lid. I couldn’t tell what shot me more full of energy, the sugar fumes wafting into my brain or Aaron’s hands on my thigh.
His chest pressed into my back as he leaned closer. “You’re going to eat that?”
“You’re not?”
“I’m training for a role. That thing is ninety percent sugar.”
I handed him the flashlight. “Be my guest. Let me know what you find. I’d recommend the tuna shreds, but you’re not a tabby.”
He sighed, kneeling to reach into the silverware drawer. He handed me a spoon and sat facing me, thigh to thigh. “Shit. Oh well. A little sugar won’t kill me, right?”
I froze. If we were going to share this can, we’d have to eat in close proximity. People in restaurants didn’t usually eat this close to one another. I looked at him, my stomach knotting.
“Are you sure?” If he said no, I could turn away and pig out in relative solitude.
But I had to share. I’d looked deep into the cabinet and might’ve seen Narnia before I found a can of beans. There was nothing there, and I couldn’t let him starve. For those incredibly talented lips to cease performing their magic would be a sin.
He took the can from my hand. “Don’t tell my manager.”
“He manages your diet too?”
He hauled out a heaping helping and shoved it in his mouth. “She and yes. She’s a nutrition Nazi. That movie I just finished where I had to gain forty pounds? I did it the hard way. All protein and gym time. I bulked up. No Twinkies, no pudding, and no ice cream. That was all muscle. Well, it will be. You’ll see.”