Caught on Camera: Part Three

by Lily Harlem

Reece pulled his finger out then watched as Cade pushed in and Bret opened up for him, his hole expanding as Cade’s glans separated it.

  “Give him more,” Reece said, a tremble in his voice. He knew how damn amazing Cade’s cock felt going in like that. “Give it all to him.”

  Cade threw back his head, gripped Bret’s shoulders and thrust to the hilt.

  Bret cried out, a deep, animal-like scream. But it wasn’t in pain. It was pure bliss.

  Reece grabbed his shaft. He was nearly at full hardness again. Seeing Cade bottom out on Bret had lust raging through him. Damn, he wanted a go. He wanted to fuck Bret.

  He grabbed a condom and quickly rolled it on.

  Cade was fucking Bret hard, in and out, his balls slapping up against Bret and the sound smacking around the room.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Bret shouted, panic in his voice. “Don’t stop, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Let me have a go,” Reece said, touching Cade’s cheek.

  Cade looked at him and Reece knew it was too late. He was gone. His eyes were glazed and his mouth slack. He froze for a moment then his features contorted, as if in agony though it was, of course, extreme pleasure.

  “Ah, fuck, I’m coming,” he managed through gritted teeth. As he came, his abdomen rolled inwards from the base, the curl traveling higher as he exhaled on a long, deep pant.

  “No…give me more…” Bret cried, pushing back and masturbating furiously.

  “Let me,” Reece said again.

  This time Cade heard him. He withdrew and collapsed back onto his arse.

  Reece lined up. He didn’t mess around—Bret was well lubed and stretched, so he just rammed home until his balls were mashed against Bret’s and his pubes settled against his buttocks.

  Bret groaned long and loud. “Give it to me. I’m so close.”

  Reece did. He gripped one of the straps that held Bret’s chaps on and barged in and out. He pressed his hips down a little so that the tip of his cock would really grate over Bret’s prostate.

  “Yeah, like that, like that…” Bret moaned, twisting his head to the side and his Stetson falling off. “Fuck, like that, Timothy. Give me your fat English cock.”

  Reece picked up the speed. It was frantic, animalistic and soon he felt Bret coming—his arse squeezed the root of Reece’s cock as he trembled all over.

  Jack was there, recording Bret’s cum spurting onto the bed.

  Bret made a good loud noise, a cry and a groan. Viewers would be in no doubt that Reece had hit the spot.

  A wave of pleasure rolled over Reece. He sank to full depth, let his head loll back and came again.

  “Holy fuck,” he yelled. Spasms jolted from his groin and racked his body. He came and came and came in an endless, wrenching explosion. The orgasm had detonated from some place so far inside him it had blown him apart.

  It wasn’t a cum-heavy release, but damn it was satisfying and deep, and as Cade had promised, Reece really was struggling to remember what planet he lived on.

  Goodness only knew what state he’d be in after the next scene, when the next fantasy was realized.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  Orchestrating Manoeuvres

  Lily Harlem

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  I flopped back on my mountain of pillows, gasping, writhing and shoving Enrique—my new thick, black Rampant Rocker vibrator—into my pussy higher and harder. He was great—long, wide and lined with vein-shaped ridges. And because he was so new to my collection, he seemed to have extra energy, extra enthusiasm for pleasing me. It was as if he was competing for a favoured position in my top drawer.

  “Oh, yes, yes,” I called out, upping the speed and finally letting his wicked forked attachment buzz around my clit. “Oh, yes, Enrique!” I twanged forward, sweat forming in my cleavage and my heart pounding. Flattening my palm over my pussy, I held him against my deliciously tormented clitoris. Electric sensations surged through my nerves. My internal muscles clamped and moisture seeped over his shaft, easing his way as I pumped his impressive girth in and out, in and out.

  I squeezed my eyelids shut and instantly Dale’s face appeared before me, a hot sheen on his brow and his mouth parted as he gave in to a fierce climax. Tearing open my eyes to shake the painful, memory-laden image, I stared at the huge framed poster of my own face gracing the cover of Vogue last month and came—sharp, intense and breath-taking. God, Enrique is good, worth every penny.

  Panting, I pulled Enrique out and tossed him to the bottom of the bed. He’d served his purpose. Started my day with an orgasm. That was why I’d bought him. Carlo just wasn’t doing it for me anymore, his pink, plastic shaft pale and insipid, his rotating glans no longer a novelty and he just didn’t hit the spot with his thin little ears.

  I glanced at the clock and sighed. Ten forty-five. I supposed I should get out of bed. Perhaps I could go and get a pedicure—I was already fed up with the Baby Bunting-coloured nail varnish I’d had applied three days ago at The Spa. Or maybe Naomi would be up for champagne and caviar at Jenson’s. I frowned and tried to remember if she was eating at the moment. I couldn’t be sure, but it was worth a try. I rolled onto my stomach and reached for my cell. There were two missed calls, one from my agent and one from my mother. I would sort them out tomorrow.

  “Naomi, darling,” I said when she answered on the first ring. “What are you doing today? Fancy some bubbles?” I flipped onto my back and stretched my legs up towards the ceiling, a combined inside leg of an impressive sixty-six inches.

  “Tiffany, babe, I thought you would be here. It’s the Tiara event.”

  I sat upright and folded my legs. “What…today?”

  “Yes, didn’t you speak to Rachel?”

  I groaned. “No, I’ve been avoiding her. She’s crazy at the moment, too many hormones.” My agent of four years was in the first few months of pregnancy and driving me nuts with her talk of babies. As if I would be interested in babies—if I didn’t have a perfectly flat stomach I would be out of a job.

  “Well you ought to give her a call.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’ll brace myself.”

  “Come on, snap out of it. Where’s your spark gone? Enough moping already, get back out working, if not for the money then for your sanity.”

  I could always rely on Naomi to say it how it was. Since Dale had left me three months ago, I’d struggled to get my usual enthusiasm for the world of modelling that I loved so much. Some people had their hearts broken and threw themselves into work—not me. I just wanted to lounge around, play with my toys then head out for something bubbly to drown my sorrows in.

  “It will do you good, Tiff,” Naomi was saying, “to get some gigs in the diary and meet some new people. Don’t let him win like this, babe. Show him what he’s missing and he’ll come crawling back.”

  Sliding to the side of the bed, I had a sudden rush of determination. She was right. I would snap out of my wallowing. Okay, so Dale had wanted a ‘break’ from dating one of the UK’s highest paid models but still, surely I could find a way with all my connections and attributes to make him wake up to his foolishness. Let him see that I was more than just a face and a body.

  I’d made him happy, he needed me in his life, our love was meant to be. I knew all that, so why didn’t he?

  I stood and squared my shoulders, pulling in a deep breath. Yes, I’d hit him with a media slap so hard he’d crawl back, begging, on hands and knees. I would teach him that asking for a ‘break’ then not calling all this time to make up was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

  But was it?

  Sighing, I walked naked to the bathroom, wondering why my self-confidence felt so low despite being in demand worldwide for catwalks and cover-shots. Naomi was still chattering in my ear, telling me about a concert she’d been to. Two male pianists—Italians—gorgeous and taking the music industry by storm with racy videos and saucy stunts. Shocking the hell out of
toffs who thought they knew more than anyone else about classical music and didn’t believe it should be played by anyone not wearing a tuxedo or a ball gown.

  Finally I heard Naomi bark at a makeup artist, her thin temper slipping as apparently one eyebrow hair was plucked without her consent. “I’ll catch you later, Tiff—they’re a bunch of morons here—but remember what I said. Get out there before everyone forgets who you are or you get a fucking wrinkle.”

  I snapped shut my cell phone then reached for my toothbrush and began to scrub by teeth as I called Rachel. “Hewwo, Rach, it mhwee,” I said through foamy mint.

  “Tiffany, darling, thank goodness you called. I’ve got the most fabulous opportunity for you today but we don’t have a minute to waste. You need to get over to Notting Hill, darling, fast…like, you should have been there an hour ago.”

  I spat in the sink and stared into the mirror, checking no wrinkles had sneaked up on me overnight. They wouldn’t dare. “Why what’s going on in Notting Hill?”

  She sucked in a breath, held the tension for a long, dramatic second then said, “Well.” She finally breathed out. “Ingresso Livello are filming a new video today and they want you!”

  “Who?” I asked, pouting at my reflection and tilting my chin. I had a little flush of colour on my cheekbones from Enrique’s skilful vibrating. It suited me.

  “You, darling, they want you.”

  “Yes, I gathered that, but who wants me?”

  She sighed. “Ingresso Livello…you know, the pianists that played at The Royal Albert Hall last weekend. Everyone who’s anyone went. They had pole dancers alongside their grand pianos and served champagne in glasses shaped like women’s torsos at the after party.”

  “I didn’t go.”

  Rachel put on her sternest voice. “I sent you a ticket and called you about it twice, Tiff, but if you don’t open your mail or answer your phone, you’re going to miss things.”

  I tutted, but silently agreed that I really must sort through the ever-growing pile of envelopes by my front door and stop hitting silence whenever my cell rang and it didn’t flash the name Dale.

  Cogs turned in my brain, sliding and slipping into place as I flicked on the shower. Naomi’s conversation came flooding back to me—Italian pianists causing a storm with their sexy videos, hot studs with talented fingers and shameless images alongside beautiful classical music. Ingresso Livello, yes, now the foreign name was familiar. I’d heard people talking about them when I’d been out and about in the clubs.

  “Okay,” I said to Rachel. “Text me the address, call them and let them know I’ll be there within the hour…say I had a family emergency or something.”

  “Great!” Rachel said. “You won’t regret this, Tiff. Not only are Ricardo and Nari drop-dead gorgeous, but this video could catapult you into acting. So smile for the camera and do your best not to look so damn depressed.”

  I huffed and clicked off my cell. Stepped into the shower and let the piping hot water rain down on my body. I was not acting depressed, just having some ‘me time’ while I fixed my broken heart. Surely I was entitled to that. Dale and I had been together for over two years. It was taking a lot of adjusting to not having him there.

  I reached for an exorbitantly expensive shower gel and covered my body in vanilla and frangipani suds. Of course I knew Rachel and Naomi were right. When you’re a well-known model, there’s always someone younger and prettier coming up behind you, happy to take your crown and your work. Making the most of this opportunity was the sensible thing to do. I knew that really. Plus it would give me something to do for the day.

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  About the Author

  Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk and a crazy cat. With a desk overlooking rolling hills her over active imagination has been allowed to run wild and free and she revels in using the written word as an outlet for her creativity.

  Lily’s stories are made up of colorful characters exploring their sexuality and sensuality in a safe, consensual way. With the bedroom door left wide open the reader can hang on for the ride and Lily hopes by reading sensual romance people will be brave enough to try something new themselves–after all, life’s too short to be anything other than fully satisfied.

  Email: lilyharlem@googlemail.com

  Lily loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.

  Also by Lily Harlem

  Thief

  Escape to the Country

  Treble: Orchestrating Maneuvers

  Stand to Attention: Who Dares Wins

  Wild Angels: Burning Rubber

  Christmas Crackers: Candy Canes and Coal Dust

  Bollywood: The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita

  Caught on Camera: Part One

  Caught on Camera: Part Two

  Totally Bound Publishing