“That movie is my inspiration, your screenwriting and your performance. One of these days, when I have more experience, when I’ve developed more in my craft, I want to pen a costume drama, not a remake of yours, I swear. And use the restrictions of the time and the wardrobe as the canvas to let the characters bloom and suffer in the small moments, in a turn of phrase or a gesture.”
“That’s the knack of it. Only there’s no need to wait until you’re older. I was thirty-eight when I began the project, early forties when we filmed it, and a great deal of the criticism I faced was age-related. Catherine Sloper is a young woman, and I was not.”
“You portrayed her perfectly! You captured her spirit!” I insisted. She laughed, a beautiful throaty laugh.
“You look ready to fight anyone who says I was too old, but the fact is, I was too old. It took me until that age to have the confidence to attempt it. Be bold now. Don’t waste a minute,” she said. I nodded avidly.
“I’m up against the Ancient Crowns writers’ room of old men right now. I can’t back down with them, or I’ll be voiceless the rest of my career.”
“There’s something to be said for standing up to the status quo, but there’s more to be said for blazing your own trail.”
“Are you saying I should quit?”
“I’m saying I’m not giving out advice. I don’t like to think I’m the wise crone yet, girlie,” she winked. “I’m saying, from my experience, you could waste years trying to change minds set in concrete when you could be using your voice instead. If you love the show and love the writing you’re doing, then it’s worth it. If not, you have some soul searching to do. Because you can’t afford to waste time. Believe me on that if you don’t listen to another word tonight,” Ellen said.
I nodded. She asked for my number, and I eagerly gave it, awestruck that she wanted it. When Josh rejoined me, I introduced him. He shook her hand. “I’m a fan, obviously. Your work is timeless.”
“Thank you, young man. Your work has great potential if you’d stop making the same basic film again and again. Although I suppose I’d be richer if I’d done that,” she chuckled.
I glanced at him. He was not insulted; he was grinning. Damn, the man was confident, and it was sexy as hell.
“I’ll take that advice, madam, and I agree with it. I can tell by the starstruck look on Abby’s face—which by the way she never had when she met me—that she’d probably agree if you said I should go back to waiting tables.”
“Hardly,” I said, “because you’re a good actor, but I definitely think Ellen Truitt’s advice is worth taking.”
“Well, how about giving me some?” Ellen asked. “I’ve wanted to produce Mill on the Floss for years, but I get hung up on the disgrace that’s heaped on Maggie. I’m having a hard time with her character.”
I nearly choked when she asked for my opinion on something so important. But with Josh standing at my elbow and beaming proudly at me, I dove in and told her what I thought. She was appreciative and told me again how on the nose my instincts were and to trust them.
“I can’t believe I got to meet Ellen Truitt,” I whispered to him after we walked away. “I would have paid to go to a conference just to hear her speak, and I got to meet her. She has my number!” I said.
He took me by the elbow and steered me to another group of people, directors, and producers. “This is better networking than those retreats,” I said.
“Yes, it is. Get to know these people. They can help you. But remember this, Ellen Truitt asked for your advice. On her pet project,” he said.
I beamed.
“You’re right. She did. And I gave her my opinion. I can’t help being proud of myself for not freaking out and not knowing what to say.”
“I don’t think that’s ever a problem for you. You’re the most articulate person I know.”
After we talked to a few more people, I tugged his hand toward the dance floor. We stayed there for a while, locked together. My arms around his neck, his arm around my hips. I didn’t have to worry about keeping the beat or how I looked dancing with these beautiful people who were probably mostly trained dancers as well, performers who’d won Oscars and Tonys sharing the floor with me. But Josh took care of all that.
For one thing, he was an incredible dancer. For another thing, I couldn’t take my eyes off him long enough to worry about anything else. I couldn’t think. All I could do was feel. I could feel the heat of his hand on the curve of my hip. I could feel my nipples harden against the lace of my bra. It was irritating and arousing all at once. I could feel my sex swollen and tender, the dampness in my panties. I could lean into him and smell the cologne on his neck, feel the rod of steel brush my stomach as his erection gave proof of his interest. I nuzzled my lips against his neck experimentally. I felt his hands tighten on my dress, his breath hot against my ear. His nearness, his focus on me, his physicality had gone to my head like a perfectly aged, potent whiskey.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, a catch in my voice. I said it too fast, too excitedly. There was no hope of him thinking I was being casual about this.
“Is it the fifth date already?” he teased, his incredible mouth against my ear sending a tingle down my neck in the most pleasurable way.
“No. I’m breaking my rules for you.”
“I’m worth breaking all the rules for,” he purred.
I grinned at that, because it was true, and it was a thrill that he knew it.
We slipped away, his security leading us out a back exit where a chauffeured SUV waited.
“What happened to your car?” I asked. “You drove me here.”
“My guys took care of it.”
“So we can be alone in the backseat?” I asked a little breathlessly.
“You make me feel like I’m sneaking under the bleachers with the head cheerleader,” he said.
“I was never the head cheerleader.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, pulling me close in the back of the car.
I melted against him, grabbing the front of his shirt as he lowered his mouth to mine. I felt branded by his lips on mine. I had convinced myself it couldn’t have been as amazing as I remembered, but as that kiss blazed to life, it was even better.
His lips rocked over mine, his tongue working between my lips as I opened for him eagerly. The strokes of his tongue left me shaking, my body aflame with want. I longed for his touch, for more of him. It was a kiss as satisfying as it was frustrating—it made me want more of him. Kissing would never be enough. I needed all of him; all of him. Nothing else would calm the restless need. I wanted it with a crackling, live wire kind of want. But I held back. I couldn’t quite go that wild. Not with him. Not with anyone, really. I was a fifth date girl, a relationship girl, not a hookup in the backseat or making out in the club kind of girl. I pulled away from him, my breath sawing in and out.
“Sorry, I just need a minute,” I said.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said with a shaky laugh. “Your concern is really sweet, especially since I’m so okay that I had to talk myself out of climbing in your lap just now.”
“Why would you talk yourself out of it? It’s a great idea. Shouldn’t writers always go with their greatest ideas?”
“No, not when it’s personal. I don’t do this, don’t sleep with guys I barely know, don’t make out in the backseat and think about going farther before we even get anyplace private,” I said.
“You’re not embarrassed. Tell me you’re not.”
“Maybe a little. Because I don’t want you to think—”
“That you’re hot and you like sex? Those are good things.”
“Well, okay, you have a point. But I’m pretty strict with myself, I guess. It keeps me from ending up heartbroken.”
“Have you had your heart broken?”
“No. And I never want to.”
“I have. It sucked majorly, but I came back stronger.”
“That’s cou
rageous of you. I’m not that brave. So, where are we going?”
“To my house. Unless you want to go home.”
“I definitely want to go to your place,” I said decisively.
I slipped off my shoes and wiggled my toes. I curled up on the seat, my head on his shoulder. “This is paradise,” I murmured, breathing him in.
“No, it’s just the waiting room to paradise,” he said. “I’ll show you paradise later.”
“I look forward to it,” I said.
“So do I,” he said and kissed the top of my head. His fingers trailed up and down my bare arm suggestively, keeping me in a low-key state of arousal the entire time. I couldn’t entirely relax against him because of his light, persistent touch. It left me hot and bothered, and I knew he wanted me primed.
At his massive house up in the hills, we went inside. I shut my eyes for a second when I heard the click of the lock on the door. I had him all to myself. It was just the two of us at last. He closed the space between us and took me in his arms.
“I liked the idea of you in my lap. Let’s start that way,” he said.
His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close. I smiled, my arms going around his neck loosely. I enjoyed being held by him. It felt fun, sexy, and carefree.
Josh pulled me toward the couch. He settled me in his lap as my short red dress rucked up my thighs. He cradled my face in his hands and kissed me. It was the softest, most romantic kiss in the world, gentle and coaxing. Lust unfurled in me like a sail that caught a strong wind. His tongue slid into my mouth, making my toes curl up.
I let my fingers slip through his hair. It was silky and soft, the opposite of the rough stubble on his jawline. As he dipped his head to kiss my neck, pleasure took over. I couldn’t run my fingers through his hair. I could only clutch it as I arched against him. The heat between my legs grew, and I knew he could feel it. I was probably searing him right through his trousers, but then I felt the twitch and stiffening of his already impressive erection.
I swallowed hard, trying not to beg. I wanted to go slow. I didn’t want him thinking I was rushing.
Josh nipped at the place where my neck met my shoulder. I groaned in pleasure, my hands tightening on his hair.
“Mmm, I guess you like that,” he said with a chuckle.
I could only moan again. He gathered me closer, his mouth devouring my throat and collarbone, chasing down my breastbone. He yanked my dress off my shoulder and reached into my bra. I felt his warm, invading fingers, rough and possessive inside the lace cups. As he fondled my bare breast, his fingers plucking at my sensitive, hard nipple. I rocked against him, needing the friction, the rhythm. He was making me crazy. I saw stars. I held onto his shoulder like it was the only thing keeping me on the couch with him. As if my thighs weren’t tight enough around him that I was secure.
Josh was enraptured with my breasts. He’d pulled the top of my dress down, the straps pinning my arms to my sides. He’d freed my breasts from the lace cups and stroked them, plucking at my nipples until my breasts grew heavy and achy.
I squirmed on top of him until he put his mouth on a sensitive peak. I shrieked—not a whimper, not even a sexy moan. A shriek, like I’d seen a mouse dart across the floor. Except I hadn’t. I’d let my head drop back as his hot mouth closed over my nipple, and he swept his tongue along the tight, pebbled flesh. I ground against him with frenzied desire, arching against him harder, pushing my nipple against his mouth insistently. I never wanted him to stop. I wanted him to lick and suck until I was screaming mindlessly. I held on to his shoulders, his neck, his hair. I said things like, ‘please’ that I didn’t even mean to say aloud. He was driving me insane. There was no more room for rational thought. It was wild and filthy, and then his fingers pried the knot out of the string that held my wrap dress closed. He parted the front, unhooked my bra, and buried his face in my breasts, greedily licking and nipping at them.
I bucked against him in encouragement. He steadied my hips with one hand and plunged the other hand into my panties without warning. I rose up a little, the wet, aching folds of my sex yielding to his large, blunt fingers. I swore and pressed into his hand as his fingers parted my lips and penetrated me. The slide of his fingers felt sharp and deep. I clenched, sucking in my bottom lip, unsure. Then he started to move his fingers, and his thumb rubbed my clit insistently. A sweet, high pitched cry tumbled out of me at the first bolt of sensation.
I leaned in, embarrassed for him to see my face. I knew I was flushed; my eyes were bright and probably crazed. I was sweating, rocking, grunting like a rutting animal with his fingers inside me. I couldn’t look him in the eye. So I leaned in and whispered to him.
“Please, Josh—Josh, I need you. All of you. I want you inside me when I—when I—if you don’t hurry, you won’t be—” my voice was ragged.
He withdrew his fingers. I bit back a protest and raised up on my knees. He stripped off my panties while I shrugged out of my dress and bra. I started on his shirt, the buttons proving too difficult for my shaking hands. He took off his belt and tossed it aside and pulled a condom from his pocket. As I opened his pants, he ripped the packet open. I felt a pang of hunger in my chest as his erection sprang forth, freed. As he rolled the condom onto his length, I wondered if I could accommodate him. He’d be too big. He was easily twice the size of Wyatt, the last man I’d been with, the only one I’d been with.
Josh’s hands slid up my thighs and made me forget any reservations I might have. I lifted onto my knees as he guided me. I looked down at him, and he smiled. His gorgeous eyes glazed with lust, with desire for me. I arched toward him, let him catch a nipple in his mouth. He did wicked things with his tongue while I gripped his shoulders. He held my bare thighs in his big hands and parted them, lowering me slowly until the head of his cock bumped against my entrance. I hissed a breath in through my teeth.
He moved me back and forth, letting his cock trail up and down between my legs, touching every sensitive part of me. He rubbed it against my clit maddeningly. I bent my head, nudging his face with mine until our lips met. It was a passionate kiss, our tongues mating, our teeth bumping as we kissed deep and long and dirty. His thumbs brushed the outer lips of my pussy, making me clench around nothing, giving a groan of frustration. That kind of stroke on the sensitive outside of my sex could have sent me into a hard orgasm if he’d had the decency to fuck me first. I was tired of the teasing, the playing, the winding me up and making me wait.
“Josh, now!” I said, demanding.
He yanked me down by the thighs until his cock impaled me. Shocked by his thrust and his size, I gave a stifled moan, part pleasure, part pain. He was so big. I wasn’t sure I could take all of him. He sucked my neck until I loosened a little and he could move. Then he started rocking, moving my hips on top of him so my clit ground against his pelvic bone. Sharp bubbles of pleasure started in me, and I was coming before I knew it, spasming hard on him as he held me close, pumping into me. As I collapsed on him, he rolled me onto my back on the couch. I smiled at him wanly, spent and shaking from the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had. He pressed my knees to my chest, opening me more, going deeper. He pulled out and then penetrated me fully again, all of his cock going in me deep, brushing against places inside me that had never been touched.
Josh looked incredible all the time, but with his hair slightly darkened and curling from sweat, his lips parted with the exertion of fucking me so completely, he was indescribable. I licked my lips in appreciation. He reached between us and rubbed the nub between my legs and set off electric bolts of pleasure. I tossed my head back and forth weakly as the pleasure ripped through me, bowing my back, making my feet flex and my hands clench onto his butt. I pulled him closer, drew him in deeper, and dug my fingers into that muscular ass. He pounded me. The only thing keeping me tethered to reality was the thrust of his huge cock inside me. I never wanted it to stop. It was beautiful and brutal, and every thrust made me clench, made flutters of pleasure ripple
in my stomach again.
“Please, God, Abby, you feel so—” he broke off, his body rigid and then jerking, out of control. He managed to roll me on my side as he withdrew, collapsing beside me.
I gathered him in my arms, his sweaty hair against my breast. As our hearts slowed down, our breathing returned to normal. He held on to me with both hands, and I stroked his hair and held him.
Josh scooped me up as if I weighed nothing and rolled onto his back, bringing me with him, so I settled against his chest, his arms around me. I had never been so comfortable on a couch in my life. I let my eyes droop shut, my whole body loose and relaxed from the torrent of pleasure that had gone through me. I was tired, and being snuggled up to Josh made everything seem so perfect, so peaceful. I was vaguely aware of him covering us with a soft blanket before I slipped off into sleep.
Stirring awake, I was aware of the warmth of someone beside me, the fact that I was a little sore, but when I opened my eyes to see Josh Mason asleep with me on the couch, I felt nothing but happiness. No regret, no shame. Just contentment. I nestled against him, and he kissed my forehead.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I smiled. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“You know, you have to marry me now. You’ve taken my virginity. When you compromise a virgin, you have to marry them. I’ve seen some of those costume dramas you like so much,” he said.
I laughed. “If you never did that before and you’re this good at it, then medical science needs to study you. You don’t have time for a wife,” I said.
“Just think, if you married me, you could live here. No more dealing with rental insurance or living with your friends,” he said.
“That’s tempting. No more listening to them having sex all the time. That can be so depressing,” I admitted, “but I would really just rather snuggle than have an engagement ring.”
He held me in silence for a minute. “You know we’d have fun, the sex is incredible, and you’d have a lot of networking opportunities that will help your career. I’d like you to consider marrying me.”
Pretend Wife Page 8
