by Amy Valenti
It hadn’t been, really. I had wealthy relatives who’d left me—their only surviving kin—the full sum of their estate, including an apartment in New York and a cabin up in Maine. And I’d had Kristin to fool around with when work was slow.
I changed tack. “How about you? Did you always want to act?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Actually, no. I just sort of fell into it. My housemate Tobias is a scriptwriter, and he knows a casting guy who was looking to fill a role. He dared me to read for it. I went and did it, and I got the part. It was kind of a shock, actually.”
“This might come as a bruise to your ego, but I’ve never actually seen any of your work,” I told her, unable to resist provoking a smile onto her face.
Immediately, she affected an injured tone. “God, I’m so offended. I’m a mega-star, don’t you know that?” She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m no diva. Though I should probably warn you about that sex scene I filmed a couple of years ago. I think the script called me Anonymous Prostitute #2, or was that #4?”
I swallowed my noodles before I could spit them out all over the table. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, God, your face is just hilarious right now!”
“Oh, real funny.” I tried to keep my face severe, but failed. There was just something infectious about the sparkle in her eye that lifted my spirits. “So no nude scenes at all?”
“Not yet. I’ve yet to find something I like enough to risk getting my boobs out for. If the right script called for it, don’t get me wrong, I might consider it…but it would have to be more than your standard HBO-style ‘must keep the viewer’s attention; haven’t shown any tits in the last three scenes’ drama.”
I tried not to imagine the world getting an eyeful of Alex’s stunning body. I wanted to keep that privilege mine and mine alone for as long as possible.
Unless we scened in public in a club. Then I might be open to sharing the view.
That wouldn’t be happening. Ever. I set aside my food, my appetite lost. Every time I thought I was getting away from that track, my mind just made a hairpin turn right back onto it.
“Is something wrong?” Alex watched me carefully. “Are you jealous? Wanna keep these all to yourself?” She gestured to her cleavage with her chopsticks.
“Wouldn’t any guy?” Sure, I was a little possessive right now. That much I could admit. The real reason for my sudden mood shift was too far out of her realm of experience for her to grasp.
Alex made a face. “My last ex encouraged me to take a role that involved full-frontal nudity. Said he wanted the bragging rights that he’d hit that before anyone else had seen it.”
Douchebag. I kept my face neutral. “He sounds like a real keeper.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, right? He’s famous, so I won’t name names. Especially since you look like the type to go charging off defending damsels in distress and their honour. I’d hate for you to end up with a lawsuit when you messed up his face and he lost a few million dollars while he waited for it to heal.”
She set aside her own food container and smiled. “Can I be forward and ask you to take off your shirt?”
I blinked at her. “Not that I’m gonna say no, but why?”
Alex inched over to be closer to me. “I want to check out your ink. Whenever you get shirtless around me I’m either busy jumping your bones, recovering from jumping your bones or asleep.”
I shrugged out of my shirt easily. The apartment wasn’t overly warm, but I wasn’t shivering with cold either. I’d survive.
Alex trailed her fingers inquisitively over the pattern on my arm. “What’s this one?”
I sometimes lied and said it had sentimental value, but with Alex I didn’t feel the urge. “A stupid decision I made on my eighteenth birthday. The second I was legal to get tattooed, I went down to the studio and picked something out of their books.”
Alex looked up at me, surprise in her expression. “You don’t strike me as the impulsive type.”
“Not these days.” I left it at that.
She transferred her attention to the fingerless MMA gloves tattooed over my heart, running her hand lightly over the inked skin. “First love, huh?”
It had been more like a saviour of my sanity, a reminder to keep my mood balanced with controlled violence rather than letting my temper loose, but she wasn’t far off. How to explain that to her without sounding like a dick, though? “Something like that.”
“I approve.”
As though she sensed how uncomfortable I was, she examined the meaningless, vaguely tribal design on my arm again. “As a first tattoo, this could be a lot worse. It still looks pretty cool, and at least it’s not ‘I heart Mom’.”
Ha. Fat chance of me getting that one. “For that to happen, I’d have to heart Mom to start off with.”
“Mommy issues?” Her grimace told me she had a few of her own.
I changed the subject—no point in exhuming ancient history. Thinking of my mother only ever got me angry. “You ever think about tattoos?”
Alex shook her head slowly. “I’m more of an ink groupie than an ink junkie. I’m not great with decisions that last a lifetime, you know? I’ve had henna tattoos a few times, though. They were cool.”
“Ink groupie? Does that mean you only like me for my tatts?” I teased.
“And your taste in music.” She kissed my tattooed arm. “And creative mind.” Up to my shoulder. “And unrelenting thirst for my obedience in the gym…” She trailed kisses down to the gloves over my heart, then looked up into my face, her mischievous smile making my pulse kick. “Want me to go on? Cause I haven’t even started mentioning what’s in your pants yet.”
I hesitated a moment, torn between grabbing her and tearing off her clothes, or just cupping her face in my hands and…
“What?” she asked softly, her focus intent on me. Brushing her fingers over my jaw, she shook her head. “I really wanna know what goes on in your head sometimes. You’re here, and then you go so far away—somewhere I can’t follow.”
I’d only known her a few days, but I was struck by the irrational thought that I could never, ever let her go. At the same time, my heart broke just a little for the places I couldn’t take her. I had to change the pace between us, and with her sweet words still echoing around my head, I felt that I actually wanted to.
I kissed her softly, slowly. She responded with a tentative lean into the embrace, but her brow was furrowed a little with confusion. Breaking off, she shook her head slightly. “I don’t get you, Spencer.”
“Just give me time, and you will.” It sounded like a promise and I pushed the regret that I’d said it right to the back of my head.
Her eyes softened. “So you’re asking me to be patient?”
I nodded.
“And in the meantime you’re gonna what?” she asked, teasing me.
I stood up, pulled her with me. “Take me to your bedroom and I’ll show you.”
* * * *
Alex
I led Spencer upstairs to my room. Progress was slow, because he kept stopping me, kissing the side of my neck, the inside of my wrist, whichever part of me was close enough for him to lavish attention on. Having a shirtless, tattooed, muscular man focus all his attention on making me melt was overwhelmingly erotic. My heart was pounding by the time we got to the bed, blood rushing south to awaken my clit.
He sat me on the side of the bed and knelt between my knees, pushing up the hem of my shirt and trailing kisses over my abdomen. There was no urgency about the movements, no hurry to get to the hotspots, and that fact alone made my entire body one huge erogenous zone. I leaned back on my hands, let him explore the skin at his leisure.
He tugged my shirt over my head and discarded it, moving slowly up to my cleavage beneath the bra. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen my body, but before now I’d always been in a sports bra. Lacy lingerie was a whole different experience.
He devoured my
curves with his eyes, his hands, then his lips, kissing along the top of the bra and nuzzling the flesh that peeked over the top of the cups. He seemed to take forever, even stroking his fingers over the hard bumps of my nipples without pulling down the material covering them. It was as though he had infinite patience, and it was driving me insane with need.
“You’re killing me here,” I murmured, arching my back to push farther into his touch.
His only response was a low chuckle as he continued his exploration, drawing it out a few seconds more before putting his hands on my waistband, not my bra fastening as I’d expected.
The button of my jeans snapped free and he pulled down the zipper with a slowness that made me groan. He looked up, amusement in his face, but said nothing as he finished unfastening it. Then, gripping my waist, he pulled me up onto my feet for long enough to work my jeans down.
Not my underwear, though. That, he left intact, though it was soaked through with my need for him and I longed to spread my legs and offer myself in any way he wanted to take me.
Now my legs were bared, he kissed his way up one of them from my toes right up to my hip, choosing to devote his attention to my outer thighs rather than inner. Then I had to bite back a million curses as he started again right from the tips of the toes on my opposite leg, drawing things out even further.
His cock had to be killing him—he was obviously hard under his pants, and just ignoring it. It was hot in one way, since he could have just thrown me down and demanded access to my pussy, which I would have happily given him. It was frustrating as hell for the exact same reason.
Now he was done with my legs, he nipped each of my inner thighs, then pressed a kiss to my underwear, directly over my clit. Finally, some attention—
He continued right on up over my navel, up between my breasts, and smothered my curses with his lips, drowning them out with his laughter. Pulling away, he grinned at me. “You’re a needy girl, aren’t you?”
“You do know I’m gonna get you back for this, right? Somehow?” I spread my legs wider, scooted up the bed and beseeched him with my eyes to continue.
“That’s later. This is now.” He lay in between my legs, his abs pressing down on my clit as he began to kiss the tops of my breasts again. I tilted my hips up experimentally, wondering how much stimulation I could get from the friction, and tried not to show him just how good it felt. I could probably get myself off just by humping his abs before he’d taken off my bra…
He moved off me with a knowing look. “Naughty girl. You’re not getting off that easily.”
I whined incoherently as he stretched out beside me, undid the front clasp of my bra and exposed my taut nipples to the air. “God,” I whispered, as he treated them to the same light touches and kisses he had the rest of my skin.
Every time he licked one of the sensitive nubs, my pussy squeezed in appreciation. I was halfway to insane within minutes, bucking my hips up against thin air, desperate for his cock.
“Spencer, please!”
He relented—kind of. Drawing down my panties with infuriating slowness, he exposed my aching pussy to the air, making me gasp and buck up against nothing yet again. Then he teased me in a whole new way, kissing the sensitive places where my legs met my labia before lavishing attention above and below my clit.
By the time he drew it into his mouth and gently sucked, I was almost sobbing with need. Three sucks were all I needed to tip me over the edge, crashing into orgasm, but he didn’t stop there—nowhere near. With every subsequent suck he drew out the climax, building and building it until my head thrashed against the pillow and my fingernails dug into his scalp. I didn’t know if I screamed, didn’t care. All I cared about was riding his mouth, wringing every tiny drop of pleasure from the experience as I could.
When I could finally think again, my mouth was dry and I could hardly breathe. “Oh, fuck… Oh, fuck me…”
He took it as an instruction, shedding his jeans and underwear in record time and rubbing his cock up and down my saturated slit. “You really want this?”
My inner muscles rippled in agreement as I nodded frantically, unable to speak.
“Slowly, pretty girl.”
He kissed me as the head of his cock edged into me, and it took all my self-control not to jerk my hips up off the bed, taking control of the situation. The way his mind worked just made me feel too good for anything else, though, and I let him penetrate me inch by slow, teasing inch, his thrusts increasing in depth but not in pace until he was all the way inside me.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him and shuddered, almost ready for another orgasm even with the torturous slowness of his movements. His body in my embrace anchored me to reality, and I kissed his throat, murmured, “Please take me, please…”
He growled a little as we began to rock together, apart, together again, still slowly, the focus on the sensation of being joined and the building swell of pleasure, not on reaching the end of the journey that had started downstairs, an eternity ago. His muscles shifted under my hands, my feet, and I rubbed against him everywhere I could, brushing my breasts against his chest, my lips against the nearest patch of skin.
Faster now, our breath coming hard, our lips a little clumsy as we kissed, coming unhinged by degrees as climax loomed.
“Watch me while you come,” he growled, tilting my chin up so I’d meet his eyes. “Watch me.”
All I could do was moan in response, losing myself in his gaze, in the slick glide of his cock in and out of me, the pressure of his fingers against my clit.
“I…”
Whatever I’d been about to say, I lost the thread of it as my orgasm crashed over me, strong yet sweet, not punishing like some of them could be, just fucking amazing. Spencer’s forehead pressed against mine as he watched every second, and I watched him watching, loving his attention.
“Now you,” I whispered, breathless and shaky. “Let me see.”
It didn’t take long. He almost closed his eyes as his cock pulsed within me, but managed to stay with me until his climax was done and he almost collapsed on top of me.
“You’re intense,” I whispered in his ear, nuzzling his neck as he fought to get his breath back.
Spencer rolled onto his side with a satisfied sigh. “That a good thing?” he asked, his voice soft and husky.
Unable to help myself, I kissed him again slowly, ignoring the way my breathless body demanded oxygen. He slid his hand over my hip, warm fingers cradling the curve of flesh, and I smiled against his lips.
“Better than good.”
CHAPTER SIX
Spencer
It was Kat who let me into Callum’s place that weekend. She gave me a sidelong glance as she stepped back to let me in. “You look different.”
“How’ve you been, Kat?” I gave her a once over, Callum’s story of the way he’d messed up with her coming back to the forefront of my mind.
She smiled, touching the collar around her throat lightly. It hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her. “I’m doing really good.”
I had to admit it; I was jealous. Not because I wanted Kat for myself—she was a hotbed of issues and I would never be able to handle her. But Callum had a collared sub living under his roof, at his feet whenever he wanted, no secrets hidden and a D/s dynamic shared with love and affection. I wanted that for me. I wanted Alex that way.
“I don’t remember the collar being there last time I saw you.” And she and Callum had been together what? Five minutes? No longer than a couple of months. I’d never have let Kristin move in with me that soon after meeting her, let alone put a permanent collar around her neck. It took us almost a year to get to the point of moving her stuff into my place, and another six months after that for a collar.
I was probably letting my own issues colour my opinion of Callum’s decision, though. It wasn’t any of my business.
She led me through the kitchen and out back, into the garden. A barbecue was smouldering, but nothing look
ed to have been placed on it yet.
“Hey, Spence.” Callum came around the side of the house holding a cooler. “Staying for food, or is this just a flying visit?”
I thought about it. “What the hell? I’ll stay.”
Kat smiled and handed me a beer from the cooler Callum had just set down, then sat in the grass at the foot of one of the lawn chairs nearby. I took another one and pulled it up, waiting for the inevitable.
When my friend stopped fussing with the barbecue and sat down, he finally looked at me properly for the first time. I hadn’t been a hundred percent sure that he’d see it straight off, but he hadn’t lost his touch. “You have a submissive.”
I’d been expecting something more along the lines of ‘you got laid’, so that rubbed me up the wrong way. “I don’t have a submissive.”
“Maybe not in name…but you’ve lost some of that edgy angstiness all the chicks love.”
Kat snorted, and Callum made no move to make his submissive respect his fellow Dom. Not that I was surprised. Or even a Dom, these days.
“I swear, you like to gossip worse than my aunts did.” I took a mouthful of beer.
“I just say what I see.” Callum glanced down at Kat, then back up at me. “Do you need some time, man to man?”
Kat looked as though she were biting her tongue. I suspected that she’d accuse us of needing time for girl talk if she were less well-trained. I didn’t mind having her here. I could use all the advice I could get. “Nah, leave your sub where she is. I could use a female perspective.”
Kat shot a quick look at Callum for permission, then asked, “So you have a new girlfriend?”
Were we even that committed? No—yet in some ways, we were far more than that. It was as though we’d skipped over the vanilla classification entirely.
“She’s a client. Someone Callum used to work with.”
“Alex Ashford. She played Rebecca Roberts in that three-part story arc towards the end of season two.” Callum reached for a package of sausages on the table and went over to the barbecue.