Rough Cut

by Mari Carr

  His hands left her as quickly as they’d entered her and she fought back tears of frustration. They moved away from her pussy and back. She sucked in a breath when she realized his destination.

  This time when he pushed into her body again, it was slower, one finger in her ass.

  “Have you had a man’s finger in your ass before tonight?”

  She nodded, but he waited for her words. “Yes.”

  She knew what his next question would be and the thought of what he was asking, what he would do, left her lightheaded.

  “What about a cock?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “So you are a virgin. You lied to me. You’ve never been tied up and you’ve never been fucked in the ass. Have you ever been spanked?”

  He seemed intent on bringing every deep, dark sexual secret to light and for a moment, she felt a spurt of angry rebellion bubble up inside her. Did he intend to lay out his past sexual exploits for her examination?

  “Not well,” she spat out, and she was surprised when he laughed. He leaned down to help her stand, turning her in his arms and embracing her tightly.

  “Jesus, you are a treasure.” His murmured compliment relaxed her, and as quickly as her anger came, it left. His words, his actions, everything spoke to her, and she found it hard to keep the emotional distance she needed to maintain. What foolish part of her had believed she could have a physical relationship with the man and remain aloof? He was intent on conquering her, and although the battle had yet to begin—she sensed this interlude had been little more than a skirmish—she was already weak.

  “Go lie down on the bed. On your back, spread eagle.” He released her. “You’re going to offer me that innocence, Gwen, and I’m going to accept it.”

  She stepped away from him on unsteady feet, her mind trying to acclimate to the idea that he would tie her up, spank her, fuck her ass. Did she want that?

  She stifled a small giggle at the insane question. Did she want it? Holy hell, her only concern was that he wouldn’t do it quickly enough. He was intent on dragging this play out when all she wanted was hard, fast, rough sex for as long as they both shall live.

  As she lay on the bed, she sucked in a breath.

  As long as they both shall live.

  Where did that idea come from? This wasn’t a true honeymoon. It was business with a bit of pleasure thrown in for good measure. She was here for two months. Two months to work on a screenplay and perhaps enjoy some hot bed play with the handsome, sexy Ty Ransome. That was it. That was all.

  Dear God, please let that be all.

  Ty watched Gwen crawl onto his bed and position herself as he’d directed. He marveled at the fact his cock seemed to grow even larger at the image of her laid out before him like a banquet feast. He honestly couldn’t believe any more blood could fit into his already aching, filled-to-bursting appendage. Christ. He was two seconds away from blowing and he hadn’t even taken off one stitch of clothing. His little author was a veritable sex kitten and she had no idea of her effect on him. She watched him through hooded eyelids and for a moment he was overwhelmed with the desire to know exactly what she was thinking.

  He knew she was approaching sex with him as a temporary thing. He’d seen her consider his proposition and he knew the moment she’d decided to give in to their mutual attraction. Convincing her to stick around for the long run was going to be his real challenge. Well, that and dragging her repressed desires into the limelight. She seemed slightly appalled by her hot buttons. She obviously liked pain and the thought of bondage, but he watched her constantly try to hide those facts, deny their existence.

  During their phone calls and conversations, he’d discovered she was a woman who was used to being in charge of every aspect of her life and her career, but surely she must be tired of always making every decision, calling all the shots. By taking away her decisions in the bedroom, he suspected he could remove some of the lingering loneliness and stress reflecting in her eyes.

  He walked to the end of the bed and looked at her. She constantly surprised him. Rather than squirm uncomfortably under his scrutiny, she seemed to flourish with his appreciative looks. “You truly are lovely, Gwen.”

  She smiled.

  “I’m going to tie you up.” He reached down to reveal the straps he’d attached to the bed earlier. He’d concealed them and he could see a brief wariness in her eyes. “Pick a safe word. One word. If at any time during our sex play you become uncomfortable or frightened, say it and I’ll stop what I’m doing. But Gwen, I must warn you. If you say the word, I won’t just pause, I’ll stop completely, so be very certain.”

  She considered for a moment and he knew before she spoke her word he wasn’t going to like it. A mischievous, all-too-pleased look crossed her face as she said, “Bambi. My safe word is Bambi.”

  He stifled a groan and a grin of his own. She was a demon and an angel. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Never,” she teased.

  Her smile grew brighter and he decided to exact his own small bit of revenge against the impish woman. He gripped her ankle firmly and pulled it toward the strap. He was shocked when she jerked her leg back, out of his grip.

  She shook her head as she rose to her knees. “You didn’t think I was going to make it that easy, did you?”

  He narrowed his eyes. She wanted to fight him? Clearly she didn’t understand how this game worked. “Gwen.” She giggled at his harsh tone and continued to move away from him toward the head of the bed.

  “Catch me.”

  His breath caught in his throat, the image of capturing and conquering her a heady, exciting premise. Jesus, she wanted to be chased and he knew there was nothing on earth he wanted more than to subdue her, force her to his will.

  “If I have to chase you, I won’t take it easy on you,” he warned. She shuddered at his words and her body flushed with anticipation. “Lie down, Gwen, and submit to me.” He silently prayed she would deny him.

  “No.”

  At the sound of her single word, he pounced. He jumped onto the bed as she skittered off. She hadn’t been kidding when she dared him. She flew across the room, clearly trying to escape. He raced after her and caught her as she struggled to open the door to his bedroom. He trapped her arms at her sides, engulfing them in his own. He had to be careful to avoid her kicking legs. He felt her heart pounding as he locked his hands together under her breasts, pulling her against him.

  “Your safe word?” He wanted to be sure, wanting to know that this game was just that—a game—and that she was a willing participant. She slammed her heel down on his foot hard and for a moment, he lost his grip. She wiggled loose.

  “No word,” she shouted.

  She truly wanted this. It was all the confirmation he needed. She ran toward the patio, but didn’t make it two steps before he caught her by the hair. She screamed as he took her down to the floor. He knew she didn’t mind the roughness, but he refused to forget her fragility, refused to seriously hurt her. She lay trapped on her stomach as he used his entire body to subdue her.

  “Do you give up?” he asked roughly in her ear. “Will you submit?”

  “Never.” Her breathlessness betrayed her excitement.

  He caught her wrists in one hand, pulling them behind her, holding them firmly at the small of her back. He moved down her thighs and roughly shoved her legs apart. She tried to kick out, but her mobility was limited by her position. He prodded the opening to her body, amazed by the juices flowing from her cunt. He shoved in two fingers, shocked when her orgasm flooded his hand with her arousal while squeezing his fingers in a death grip of tensing, pulsating muscles.

  Fuck. She was coming. She was climaxing from their game. This chase fantasy must have been one she’d dreamed of for a very long time. What other naughty little dreams did she have swirling about in that delicious mind of hers?

  While she was mindless, lost in the throes of her orgasm, he grasped the upp
er hand. He stood and lifted her off the floor, carrying her to the bed. She didn’t fight him as her body shook in the aftermath of her pleasure. Placing her in the middle of the large mattress, he attached her wrists together above her head with a strap, but he left her legs unbound.

  If he didn’t get inside her body soon, he felt as if he would explode into a million pieces. He rose from the bed and watched as she regained her wits. She pulled to check the tightness of the straps holding her captive to his bed and her gaze flew to his.

  “You won’t break those restraints.” He slowly undressed, thrilled to see her watching him as if spellbound, subdued, submitting. He removed his shirt and pushed down his pants and boxers in one smooth move, her eyes following his every action.

  “Like what you see?” he teased when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

  Her eyes flew back to his face. “Yes,” she whispered. “Very much. Please hurry, Ty.”

  He fought to regain control of the moment. Damn her. She’d taken his ideas of domination and submission and blown them out of the water. He’d lived his entire life with the dream of controlling a woman in the bedroom, and in one afternoon, Gwen had taken his preconceived notions of how this should work and twisted them into something new, something glorious. Life with this woman would never be boring and as that thought crossed his mind, he realized that he would accept nothing short of a lifetime with her.

  This really was their honeymoon.

  He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a condom. Donning it, he crawled over her body, thrilled when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him to her.

  He placed his cock at the opening to her body and slid slowly into heaven. “I won’t be easy,” he murmured against her cheek. “I want you too badly to go slow.”

  “I know my safe word,” she said, but he knew without a doubt she wouldn’t use it.

  Pulling back, he slammed into her with all the force, all the power, all the desires she’d brought to a boil in his body over the course of the last hour. Over and over, he shoved into her, making demands it seemed only she could fulfill. She came twice around his cock, but he refused to give way, refused to stop.

  When at last he felt he had to come or die, he gave in to his release as she cried out and joined him again. He hovered over her, and as he climaxed, he was inundated by the realization that every dream in his life had just been fulfilled in her. A lifetime spent hiding behind the guise of a character of his own making simply drifted away, leaving him naked, uncovered, revealed. Gwen looked at him, her eyes sparkling with the same amazement he felt and he knew the truth. He’d just found home.

  He collapsed on top of her, aware his weight was crushing her, but powerless to move. He buried his face in her neck, afraid to let her see the tears hovering in his eyes. He breathed in her fresh, flowery scent and savored the softness of her skin. After several moments—once he’d composed himself—he shifted to the side and released the straps at her wrists, dragging her arms down and lightly massaging her shoulders.

  She turned her face to his and he leaned forward to kiss her. Caressed her lips with his.

  “Quite a honeymoon,” she said after they broke away. The light in the room had gone dim as afternoon had given way to evening and he wondered how long they’d lain there simply kissing.

  “Quite a honeymoon,” he agreed with a contented grin.

  Chapter Five

  Vignette Two: It’s Time

  The week of their “honeymoon” passed far too quickly for Ty and he returned to the demands of his job, resentful at being forced away from Gwen’s sweet body. Acting had been his life, his singular joy for over two decades, but as he watched the actors on the set recite their lines like they had mouths full of peanut butter, he wondered why the hell he bothered. He was guest-directing one of the hottest shows on television as a favor to a friend. One of the show’s gimmicks was inviting a different person in the business to direct each week.

  He called “Cut!” and once again tried to explain to the two stars exactly what he’d already said twenty-seven fucking times today. He worked hard to control his temper because part of him suspected the actors were trying to provoke him to anger. He was well-aware that while there were several cameras pointed at the set, there was also one directed at him.

  At the end of each show, the producers aired a montage of behind-the-scenes clips of the famous director working with the cast. No doubt some asshole producer had decided it would improve ratings to show that infamous Ransome temper exploding. Ty refused to accommodate them, but as the scene dragged on and on, each minute keeping him away from returning to Gwen, he found it hard to keep his growing fury in check.

  “Mr. Ransome,” the director’s assistant said. The annoying woman had shadowed him for three days, offering coffee, food and advice almost every other minute.

  “What?” he barked.

  She widened her eyes as if afraid of him and he fought back a growl as he spotted the camera out of the corner of his eye.

  “I’m sorry, Paula. What do you need?” He watched her disappointment at his calm apology and he realized she was also in on the scheme to provoke him to madness.

  “There’s a woman here to see you. She insists that it’s very important.”

  “Important?” he snapped, fed up with the constant interruptions. He wanted to be home in bed with Gwen, not here surrounded by this fake, talentless group of morons. “We’re in the middle of a scene. A scene that would have been finished two hours ago if these two had bothered to learn their lines.” Fuck the cameras and fuck this show. If they wanted to see Ty Ransome in a rage, he’d give them their money’s worth. Screw Bernie and his warnings to clean up his act.

  A figure moved behind Paula, distracting him, and he spotted Gwen, waving nervously from the edge of the set. His anger dispersed in an instant.

  “Everybody take ten,” he shouted to the cast and crew. He could almost detect the sighs of annoyance as he walked away from them without giving them the money shot they were waiting for. Fuck. Was the whole crew conspiring against him?

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said softly as he approached her. He gave her a quick buss on the cheek, unwilling to subject her to the cameras and gossip that would surround her if word of their relationship got out. He knew the tabloid onslaught would be unavoidable eventually, but he wanted to spare her that for as long as possible.

  “It’s time,” she whispered.

  “Time?”

  “I’m ovulating. We need to have sex. Now.”

  His mind whirled at her words. Ovulating? Sex? Now? He started to question her until he remembered the second story. “It’s Time” involved a young, married couple as they struggled to conceive. The sex life they’d enjoyed prior to their decision to make a baby had turned into a chore as the wife’s desire for a child began to rule the bedroom. Over the course of time, the husband started to resent the feeling of being treated like nothing more than a stud used for breeding.

  “Gwen, I’m sort of in the middle of something right now.” Even as he spoke the words, he couldn’t believe she’d actually appeared here expecting him to have sex with her in the middle of a busy set.

  “You said you were committed to this, Ty. We agreed to do whatever it takes to make a baby. I need you.” Her voice, though soft, was firm. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one could overhear them and misinterpret her words.

  “Gwen, I—”

  “We have to hurry,” she said. He looked down at her body and he could see that she was certainly being honest about the needing him bit. Her nipples were threatening to tear the thin material of her sundress and her face was flushed.

  “Dammit, this really isn’t a good place or time. There are too many people. I know what you’re trying to do, Gwen.” He grinned, hoping to dissuade her with charm. “But let’s face it, the honeymoon isn’t over yet.” He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “I’ve yet to claim that ass
of yours. Let’s wait a couple of weeks before we tackle the next story.”

  “Now, Ty,” she insisted, her voice louder, carrying. He watched several stagehands pause to look at them.

  “You’re making a scene,” he hissed.

  “It’s time,” she repeated.

  Already at the end of his rope, he felt the last straw break. “Fine. You wanna play this fucking game here, we’ll play it.” He gripped her arm tightly and directed her toward his trailer. He couldn’t mistake her quick intake of excited breath at his aggressive handling, and his traitorous cock sprang to life instantly. Perfect, just what he needed. A bunch of cameras recording him dragging Gwen Preston to his trailer with a raging hard-on.

  He pushed her quickly up the three steps, slamming the door closed behind them with more force than he intended. “God dammit, Gwen. In case you’ve failed to notice, I’m working. There are a hundred people out there all waiting for me to fuck this up. Now really isn’t a good time for this.”

  She glanced down at the front of his pants and smirked. An honest-to-God smirk. “Fuck.” To hell with the cameras, to hell with keeping their relationship under wraps and to hell with her. “Turn around and bend over that table. Lift up your dress.”

  If she wanted to be fucked, he’d accommodate her. He was too incensed for finesse, for grace. She wanted a stud, she’d get one. He pulled a condom out of his wallet before shoving his pants down. She watched with a satisfied smile before turning around and lifting her dress. He fought against the fresh round of arousal that attacked him when he realized she wasn’t wearing panties, her juices shining on the pale skin of her inner thighs. He took two steps forward and moved into place, thrust in without ceremony, without pause. He pounded into her with rough, hard blows, angry at first, but as they continued, every emotion raging through him fled, all except the ones that mattered. Relief, calmness, peace. Her body met his blow for blow and as she came around him, his anger, his misery poured out of him in a hot, hard, powerful release of come that he silently prayed the condom could hold.