by J. C. Grant
I stayed frozen in place, waiting for his return, hoping this would work. Hoping it would ease the strain between us.
Several moments later, I heard his feet against the hardwood floors as he entered, walking up behind me. I could feel his body heat as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over my ear.
“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees,” he rasped. His voice was a delicious mix of threat and condescension, making my pussy pulse.
On shaky legs, I obeyed, crawling onto the bed. The familiar, buttery-soft sheets under my knees and hands comforting me.
His broad palm glided up my back, and I almost sobbed with relief. That’s when I realized, David hadn’t touched me once since I’d entered the room. He hadn’t touched me since I told him it was Ryan. In that moment, I knew, I’d do anything to keep his touch.
His hand slid up, gripping the back of my neck, pressing, until I complied, dropping down to my forearms. His hands moved to my ass, thumbs slipping into my crack, spreading my cheeks wide, exposing me.
My lips parted, pulling in deep, even breaths as I tried to ignore the vulnerability, tried to choke it back. I wanted to be strong. I was determined to take whatever he dished out with my with my dignity still intact. The truth was, this was the perfect opportunity for him to take out some serious aggression on me.
Not that I thought he would.
But he could.
The tension built as I waited, but I refused to be self-conscious. David was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with; I didn't want to hide from him or be insecure. Ever.
But more importantly, I didn’t want to lose him.
He growled softly, an appreciative, hungry sound.
My body jerked when I felt the flat of his tongue on my clit, hot and wet, crudely sliding up to my ass, teasing.
Feeling embarrassed, I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself not to react, not to pull away.
“Last chance to change your mind,” David warned darkly as his hands moved restlessly over my ass, squeezing roughly.
My eyes flew open as the meaning of his words sank in. He’d warned me before, but never like that, with those words. I knew what he was going to do. Admittedly, I was scared, but I needed to give myself over to him completely.
We needed it.
He needed it.
“No, I want it.” A tiny part of me was terrified of what I was asking for, considering his current frame of mind about that video.
He pulled back. “Hold your ass open for me.”
I hesitated at his obscene demand.
“Now, Austin.”
Obeying, I dropped down, my head, neck, chest flat on the bed. The new angle forced my hips back, aiding in exposing myself to him. For him.
Something about doing it myself made me feel more vulnerable, made the act feel degrading.
As I laid there, exposed, my heart raced as anxiety crept in. It was going to hurt, there was no way it wasn’t. He was too big.
He was way too fucking big.
I heard him opening something, and my heart skipped, and the temptation to turn around only grew. I wanted to know if he was watching me or if this was a test, and what the hell did he bring in with him?
The tension built, my trepidation turning into pure fear. I was actually trembling.
“Nervous?” His deep rumble filled the room, making my stomach flutter.
“Yeah,” I breathed shakily, staring at the white sheets beneath my head.
“Change your mind?” His tone was unreadable.
“No,” I answered a little too quickly.
No matter how scared I was, I wasn’t backing out.
“I’d never hurt you, Austin,” he whispered, seeming angry at having to remind me.
His hand landed on my lower back as his tongue massaged my puckered flesh, and I shivered, sucking in a stuttered breath. It felt like he was testing me, pushing me, trying to see if I’d stop him. When I didn’t, his touch turned gentle, coaxing, loving. His fingers moved to my clit, working with delicate precision. His other hand moved up my back in a firm glide, comforting me, before sliding around, palming my breast, then softly kneading and thumbing my nipple into a hard peak.
“So fucking sweet,” he muttered, before he went back to work, massaging. His gentle ministrations and the heat of his tongue had my body going lax.
My eyes closed and I focused on him, really focused on him. I had the sexiest man I’d ever met, one of the hottest men in Hollywood, behind me with his face buried in my ass, tonguing my tight flesh like he loved it, like he wanted to devour it.
My body sagged as sparks of pleasure coursed through me, the nerve endings coming alive under his attention. My mind slowly went numb as instinct took over. A mindless need to come.
It was addictive—the things he did to my body, the chemicals pounding through me, replacing worry with blind lust.
I didn’t want to admit how good it felt, but my body’s response made verbal admission irrelevant as my hips arched back of their own volition, seeking more. David moaned in approval, then pulled back.
Feeling movement on my other side, I turned my head to see him grabbing four of our pillows, placing them under my hips.
“Relax,” he murmured, his hands gliding over my hips, encouraging me to lower them down. “Can you keep your ass spread for me a little bit longer?”
“Ummm,” I breathed, surprised by his concern. “Yeah.”
I’d expected aggression and frustration after what he watched, but he was showing me nothing but his sweetness. His gentleness.
I felt something wet and warm dripping down my crack, and I squirmed.
“Shhh, it’s just coconut oil.” His deep rasp was so soft and caring, it made something in my chest tighten. His fingers dragged through the oil, and I clenched up. “Mmm, more comfortable with my mouth?” His voice was a delicious purr that went straight to my core. But before I could answer, I felt his tongue again.
Fuck, I hated that I liked it. I should have been embarrassed or grossed out or something. But it felt too fucking good. My hips pushed back and a low moan escaped me.
A happy noise rattled through his chest. “That’s my girl,” he growled as an oil slick finger replaced his mouth, massaging my tight ring of muscle with determination.
Without warning, his thick digit slipped inside, and I gasped.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, pushing deep.
The back of my neck heated as the sensation raced through me. My skin tingled, every nerve ending in my body sparking. There was no pain, just a slight uncomfortableness.
When he slipped a second finger in, I groaned. His breathing turned ragged, a distinctly aroused sound, turning me on more.
Wanting to see his face, his reaction, I looked over my shoulder. I took in the violent rise and fall of his chest, his parted lips, and his downcast eyes as he watched, seeming entranced by the sight of what we were doing.
His gaze met mine, and he muttered in awe, “You are so ready.”
“More,” I moaned.
I couldn’t believe it, but I was ready. I wanted it. He’d made sure I was prepared, and I was grateful for his forethought as his fingers worked in and out, stretching me open with skilled strokes.
“Oh, sweet girl,” he murmured, sounding as aroused as I was. “I’m gonna fuck you in the ass, so good.”
David took his time, pumping his fingers in and out of me, slowly, gently, while his other hand worked my clit.
“Yes.” My voice was a breathless cry, almost embarrassing with its desperation.
His fingers slowly slipped out of me, and I watched with fascination as he covered his cock with the coconut oil. I could only imagine the pornographic image we made, him stroking his length, my ass up in offering.
He slid his dick through my crack, and I braced myself for the pain. Then I felt the thick head pressing against my opening, sinking in with little resistance.
My throat tightened and my breath caught at the intrusion
.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, burying my face into the mattress, arching my hips back, my body relaxed completely, giving into the obscene act. Accepting. Inviting.
A moan tore from my throat as he slowly worked himself deeper, half an inch at a time, giving me time to adjust.
“Shhh, just take it. Just take it,” he whispered softly, almost pleadingly.
When he was fully seated, his balls against my sex, he stilled, holding deep inside me.
He felt huge, so much bigger than he ever had. I felt too full to breathe.
This was the most intimate thing we’d ever done. With his punishing length buried deep in my backside, I didn’t feel like my body was mine anymore. I felt owned.
Nothing had ever felt more basic, more primal, more animalistic.
“Tell me you're never going to leave me,” he rasped.
I wasn't sure how our roles had suddenly been reversed. I realized then his anger had more to do with his abandonment issues.
“Never,” I swore. I couldn’t imagine ever leaving him.
“You’re mine now.” He pulled out slowly, the oil eliminating any friction. “Tell me.”
“I’m yours. I always was,” I promised. The stimulation of his length inside me and his fingers on my clit overwhelmed me.
He fucked me gently, with long, slow strokes, gradually speeding up until we were thrusting recklessly together. The building pleasure was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced before. I was afraid to let it happen. At first.
“Come on, I feel you. Let go, come for me... I’m gonna come deep inside you, so fucking deep you’ll never get me out.”
His words pushed me over the edge.
It was a strange feeling. It was the exact opposite of every orgasm I’d ever had. Every muscle in my body was relaxed, never tensing or twitching, just an intense euphoria melting through me, slow and lingering, like marinating in bliss.
My entire body shivered as he withdrew, lying next to me, pulling me into him.
“You okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned.
I nodded, too zenned out to speak.
He sighed, rearranging me until I was cuddled against him, my head resting against his pec.
Eventually, he broke the silence. “You take it up the ass like such a good girl,” he purred as his fingers skimmed up and down my arm.
Looking up at him, I smirked. “Well, you give it up the ass like such a good boy.”
A throaty laugh rumbled through him.
As I stared across the room, a glint caught my eye. “Did the décor people not show up?” I asked when I realized what I was looking at.
“Oh, nah.” His voice was husky. “I bought those, I wanted you to be able to keep something. They wouldn't sell me anything else.”
That made me feel so much worse. He was always thinking of me, always putting my happiness before his own. And how had I repaid him? By forcing him to give me space and hiding nude photos on my laptop. I felt like a self-centered asshole.
Suddenly, I realized we were missing someone. “Where's Chance?”
“In the guesthouse.”
Propping myself up on an elbow, I looked down at him, my eyebrows drawn together in question.
“I scared him,” David explained dejectedly. “When I broke those fucking... urn things. I didn't wanna stress him out anymore, so I put him out there... I didn't want him to see us fight.”
That was understandable.
“Is he okay? Does he have water?”
“He's fine. He has air-conditioning, water, a big-ass couch to himself, his favorite TV show... I'll go get him now,” he said, drawing the covers aside.
My eyes greedily drank in all that perfectly honed muscle, shifting and rolling, as David pulled his sweats on, then headed for the door.
"Austin,” he said, over his shoulder. “If there's any other photos or videos floating around—"
"There's not. I swear. Trust me, I've been thinking about it."
"No one else has ever been on the phone while you were doing anything?"
"No."
I watched as his back rose and fell with a slow, deep breath.
"We're never discussing this again.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “And if something comes out, I'll deal with it, not you."
"Okay," I agreed, grateful not to feel like we were ending.
CHAPTER NINE
The next day, things were different.
Our usual sweet and flirty morning was replaced with stilted and awkward—for me anyway. Knowing David had those images of me in his head, I was walking on eggshells. David went through the motions, as if trying to will things back to normal. But things weren’t normal, and I could sense his discomfort in everything he did. The way he moved. The way he spoke.
He wasn’t my David.
That changed when Fergus called, informing us the video had never left my phone, other than me transferring it from one phone to the next—I was still inwardly cringing at that.
Once David knew there were no copies floating around, the shift in him was visible, his tense muscles relaxing.
As the day went on, David had seemed to have let it go, for the most part. He'd become more demanding and possessive, my David on steroids, especially at the gym. But he’d held true to his word and never mentioned the video again.
I tried to relax, I tried to match him, acting like nothing had happened. I tried. I did. But it felt forced, uncomfortable, and just wrong.
When Elaine called the following morning, interrupting another awkward breakfast, I was relieved.
“Hello?”
"I hope I'm not calling at a bad time. I know how you guys love your morning routine."
David hadn't told anyone about the video, other than Fergus. So Elaine was ignorant of the current strain on our relationship.
"No, that's fine."
"Well, I have, what I think, is really good news. Jeff called this morning. The offer is five million for twelve episodes. And that includes your writing six of the twelve episodes, creators’ cut, and artists’ pay."
"Whoa," I breathed, stunned. I’d never really thought about the actual numbers because it seemed like such a long shot.
"If the first season does well, you can negotiate for more the second season. I think five million is a really good starting point."
Elaine’s words finally broke through my thoughts.
"Yeah, of course. I'm just in shock." I was numb; it didn’t seem real.
"What's going on?" David's deep voice rumbled from beside me.
When I looked at him, I noticed he had abandoned his breakfast and muted the TV, giving me his full attention.
"Ummm, Elaine, let me put you on speakerphone."
I honestly didn't want to tell David. Because if I told him, he would pry, and he would find out about the call from Elaine I received days before, the day he found the video and that was not a pot I wanted to stir.
"Hey,” Elaine chirped. “So Austin has an offer."
I watched David as she repeated the specifics to him.
"What the fuck?" David muttered, then pinned me with an accusing glare. "When did this happen? How did this happen?"
He stared me down, his piercing gaze cutting right through me. It took everything in me not to look away.
"David, you went to the Halloween party with her, and you knew what it was for. You sent me the short the other day,” Elaine explained, clearly confused. “What did you think that was for?"
The look he gave me told me he knew I'd kept something from him. Again.
His lips pursed and his eyes swiveled away, looking out the window.
"David, this is an amazing offer," Elaine added.
"Yeah, I get that." His voice was low and rough and... disappointed?
"Austin? What do you think?" Elaine asked, pulling my attention away from David.
"Can I have a say in casting?" I hedged.
David’s eyes cut back to me then.
"You're the
creator. I'm sure you can."
"I want final decision on casting,” I amended. “I'm the one who would have to work with these people every day."
David’s expression was unreadable as he silently watched me, listening to every word we said.
"If Jeff agrees to that, are you saying yes?" Elaine checked.
"Yes." My voice was clear and confident, despite my unease with not having discussed it with David first, and the fact that I didn’t know the first thing about creating a show.
I’d just jumped into the deep end without looking.
Sink or swim.
“Perfect, I'll let him know. And I'll call you back.”
“Thank you, Elaine,” I said ending the call, steadfastly avoiding looking directly at David. I could feel his disapproving gaze on me, as real as a hot hand.
“What?” I asked quietly, focusing on my food, knowing exactly what was wrong. Finally, I glanced up. My eyes meeting his, I added, “You said you'd support my career.”
David's eyebrows pulled together as he stared at me in disbelief.
"I said, I would support you in anything you wanted.” He leaned in close, nearly looming over me. It was intimidating as hell. “But you'd have to fucking tell me what was going on for me to support you,” he accused harshly. “You did this behind my back. You didn't even ask me. You just decided, right here in front of me."
"You didn't ask me about baseball," I countered.
"Yes! I fucking did! You just never gave me an answer."
Fuck, he was right. I was just too chickenshit to tell him the truth.
“I didn't tell you about the initial interest, because I was afraid nothing would come of it. And I didn't want to look like a failure to you.”
His expression softened.
“Can you please be happy for me?” My voice was small, my insecurities coming through. “This might be it for me, whether it actually goes through or not.”
“Sweetheart, it won't be.” His voice was sympathetic, sincere and resolute. “I promise, even if I have to produce it, this will not be your last chance.”
He tucked me into his side, comforting me.
“Eat,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my temple. And just like that, everything between us felt right again.
