She pressed her palms to his chest—the very place she’d shoved him only a moment ago—and splayed her fingers. The rapid sledgehammer beat of his heart under her hand sent fresh heat to her pussy. The rock-hard tips of his nipples stole her breath. She dragged a thumb over one of them, curious to see what he would do.
“Oh fuck, yes,” he ground out against her mouth, cupping her ass with his hands to haul her hips to his.
The thick, rigid pole of his erection rammed into the curve of her sex. Undeniable. She whimpered her approval and teased his nipple again.
He hissed in a breath, thrusting his hips forward.
Rowan’s pulse quickened. She slid her hands down his torso and her head swam at the sculpted shaped of his abs under her fingers. They were so hard, so defined. The man was the epitome of physical perfection. And she was going to fuck him.
The realization slammed into her like a jolt of exquisite electricity. Her breath caught in her throat, and then she yanked his shirt free of his jeans and slipped her fingers under the hemline.
Oh boy.
His flesh was warm and smooth. His belly hitched at her touch. A raw groan tore from him, his hands squeezing her butt with cruel pressure as she sought out his nipples.
Fine hair dusted the massive expanse of his chest, tickling her fingers, exciting her need. It was rare to find a man with a hairy chest in Hollywood nowadays, and even the professional martial artists she occasionally dated had all fallen under the deluded opinion waxing and manscaping was the only way to go.
She moaned, loving the way the wiry hair felt under her fingertips.
Real. So real. There was nothing fake about him.
Nothing.
She captured a nipple between two fingers and pinched.
His mouth jerked away from hers, another harsh hiss escaping him.
Ducking her head to his chest, she bunched up his shirt, closed her lips around the nipple she’d just squeezed and sucked.
Aslin raked his hands up her back. His hips bucked forward, driving his jeans-trapped shaft against her mound. He groaned, digging his fingers into her shoulders. “Christ, Rowan…”
A shudder wracked his body. He snatched her chin with a strong grip, forcing her upright. His nostrils flared. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Don’t start something you won’t let me finish, Rowan.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you like this again until you told me to. I also promised once you did, I would unleash my control and—”
“Fuck me, Rhodes,” she cut him off, her heart wild, her breath nothing but shallow pants. “N—”
The word now never passed her lips. He captured it with his kiss, his tongue silencing her with hungry possession just as he grabbed her ass and spun around.
He slammed her against the door, his knee wedging between her thighs, his hands reaching for the hemline of her shirt. He pulled it up over her head, stripping her of its paltry protection without pausing for a beat. She gasped, liquid want flooding her pussy.
“Christ, Rowan.” His murmur filled the trailer. “You are beautiful.”
He covered her breasts with his hands, rasping his thumbs over the distended points of her nipples. The satin of her bra emphasized the caress and she shivered, gazing up into his face as she reached for his belt buckle.
His stare melded with hers for a split moment, a low groan rumbling in his chest, and then his hands covered her shoulders and he was sliding her bra straps down her arms.
Her breasts fell free immediately. Her nipples—already puckered—grew tighter. Aslin’s nostrils flared at their erect state. He watched his fingers trace the aureole, his knee pressing harder to the junction of her thighs as he did so. She whimpered, arching her back to his gentle exploration.
It was ecstasy. It was wonderful. But she didn’t want him gentle. She wanted him forceful.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispered.
His stare jerked up to her eyes, and she couldn’t miss the strained tension around his nostrils, the edges of his mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he answered. “I want you so much I’m afraid I will if I don’t try and—”
“I’m yours, Aslin.” She slid the backs of her hands up the door to above her head, lifting her breasts upward as she rubbed her pussy on the top of his knee. “Take me. Fuck me. Please.”
The words had barely left her lips when he captured her right breast with one hand. He kneaded the heavy curve of her flesh with rising pressure, his knee grinding to her clit equally hard. She let out a hitching cry, closing her eyes to the base pleasure radiating through her.
The sound of him lowering her zipper set her heart racing, as did the tug on her fly. She sucked in her belly, her sex filling with fresh moisture. He pulled at her shorts, parting them wide. And then he slipped his fingers between her spread legs, over the curve of her mons, to the folds of her pussy.
He fingered her clit, rolling the button with frenzied pressure before dipping into her wet heat.
She cried out, the sound loud in the silent trailer. He growled against the side of her throat, the hand on her breast squeezing tighter. She writhed against him, wanting to feel his fingers deeper in her heat.
He complied to her unspoken request, driving up into her sex with savage force. Shards of wicked pleasure shot through her and she dropped her hands to his shoulders, scraping her nails across their breadth.
Her orgasm hit her. So fast, so wild, she couldn’t breathe. Her juices gushed from her pussy.
“Fuck, yes.” Aslin’s groan heated her ear. “I can feel you squeezing my fingers. So tight. So wet…”
She moaned, the pulses of her climax growing faster. Building. Mounting. And then another one claimed her, more intense than the first. More absolute.
“So perfect.” His lips scored a line over her jaw, her chin. His teeth nipped at her lips. “So mine.”
He withdrew his fingers from her sex enough to torture her clit again. She bucked, the sheer rapture of her duel orgasm making the swollen button almost too sensitive to touch.
“Aslin,” she panted, “I…”
Whatever she was going to say next was lost to his plundering kiss. Concentrated pleasure poured through her veins. His control was deserting him. She could feel it in the urgent greed of his touch. A low groan tore from his chest and his hand yanked free of her sex. He broke away from the kiss, cupped her jaw in his palm and dragged his thumb over her lips before slipping it into her mouth.
She tasted her cream—musky and salty at once.
“Taste your pleasure, Rowan,” he commanded before reclaiming her lips with his. His tongue mated with hers, untamed and feral. She whimpered, grinding her sodden pussy to his knee even as she reached for his fly.
He tore his mouth from her lips, grabbed the waistline of her undone shorts and shoved them down her hips.
The air-conditioned air of the trailer wrapped around her newly exposed flesh, streamed between her newly revealed pussy lips. She gasped, and then again when Aslin dropped to his knees and swiped his tongue over her clit. He hooked his hands high on her inner thighs and shoved her legs wide.
She leant her shoulders back into the door, every nerve-ending sizzling with scalding, mounting need as he fucked her pussy with his tongue. Another climax built within her walls, a radiating tension that shot up her spine and deep into her core. “Oh, yes, yes,” she moaned, rolling her head side to side. “Yes.”
He smoothed his hand down the back of her left leg, and with a sudden yank, her calf was on his shoulder. He buried his tongue into her spread seam, his nose in her trimmed pubic hair. She fisted her hands in his hair, her third orgasm slamming into her.
God, she’d never had so many so quickly. How would she survive when he drove his cock into her?
The delirious thought fired off new throbbing pressure in her core. A keening sound filled the trailer, and it was only when Aslin ground out, “I love the sound you make whe
n you come,” that Rowan realized it was her.
She was drowning in pleasure. It engulfed her. Every time Aslin’s tongue painted her folds, her clit, she shuddered and clung to him. Her breath left her in ragged pants. Her nipples ached. Her belly knotted.
And still she wanted more. She needed more. It wasn’t enough. She wanted—
Without warning, Aslin rose to his feet. He took a step backward, just one, his gaze holding her prisoner.
She watched him, her lips parted, her breasts heaving.
Wordlessly, he unthreaded his belt, popped his button and lowered his fly. His cock pushed free of his jeans, thick and long and venous. Its bulbous head was a deep blood-purple. Beads of precome anointed its crown, seeping from the tiny slit there.
Rowan’s heart slammed into her throat.
“C-con…condom,” she stammered.
Still wordless, his jaw bunching, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and withdrew a small square packet from inside in.
If it was possible, Rowan’s heart beat faster.
She stared at him. At the condom in his fingers. At the massive erection jutting upright from his jeans. Oh God, how was she to take him all?
As if he saw her fear, he drew a long breath as he slowly sheathed his cock with the protective shield. “I will try to be gentle, Rowan. I pr—”
She shook her head. “Don’t.”
The single word was all it took. She saw his eyes dilate. Saw his Adam’s apple jerk up and down, and then he was pinning her to the door, his right hand hooking under her left knee, yanking her foot from the floor.
Parting her moisture-slickened sex.
He penetrated her in one powerful thrust. Buried himself in her heat. She cried out, the fire of his exquisite invasion detonating a wave of pleasure so close to pain for a giddy moment black stars swirled in her vision.
She drove her nails into his shoulders as she was impaled on his cock.
“Rowan…” he rasped, his eyes wide, horror etching his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry, love. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ll stop. I’ll—”
“Don’t you dare,” she cut him off, even as she bent her leg more around his elbow and squeezed her inner muscles tight on his buried length. “Or I’ll be forced to beat the shit out of you. Got it?”
His nostrils flared. “Got it.”
With that, he thrust up into her. Again and again and again, until nothing mattered in Rowan’s world except the pleasure he wrought on her body. And her complete surrender to it.
And when he came, she came with him.
As she knew she would.
Minutes, maybe hours later—Rowan didn’t know—they leant motionless against the door, their ragged breaths the only sound to be heard. The fading pulses of Rowan’s orgasm throbbed through her, each one squeezing Aslin’s cock still embedded in her sex.
They stared into each other’s eyes, their hips pressed together, her leg hooked over his arm. “Holy shit,” she murmured. “That was…that was…”
The door opened behind her and before either she or Aslin could prevent it, she tumbled backward. Crashing into a hard, firm body.
“Damn, sis.” Chris’s laughing voice flooded Rowan’s cheeks with embarrassed heat as Aslin leapt out of his trailer and scooped her off her brother. “This is going to fuck me up for life. On the plus side, I see your head is feeling better.”
Chapter Ten
Saving Chris from a horny kangaroo was probably the most surreal thing Aslin had ever done. Thank God, the media had departed by the time the marsupial decided the man scratching its fur was its type, locked its front legs around his hips and began to mount him.
Aslin had never seen so many frantic, embarrassed zoo staff run so quickly to save the shocked American actor. Nor had he heard Rowan laugh with such unabashed mirth. She stood to the side of the enclosure, arms wrapped around her belly, tears streaming down her cheeks as Chris yelped in surprise. The kangaroo keepers battled the determined animal and the zoo manager barked horrified commands.
It wasn’t until the kangaroo levered back onto its thick, powerful tail in an attempt to reposition Chris, that Aslin realized the staff weren’t having much luck controlling the situation.
In three strides, he crossed the lush grass, elbowed his way between the roo’s chest and the actor and—with a shove he knew wasn’t gentle—dislodged the rather unfortunate embrace.
“Holy shit.” Chris stumbled sideways, his face an incredulous grin. “That’s taking my animal magnetism to a whole different level.”
From the sidelines, Rowan’s laughter grew louder.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Huntley.” The zoo manager wrung his hands together, disbelief turning the apology to a strangled squeak. “I don’t understand—”
Chris laughed, holding up a hand to the mortified man. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m good.”
“That’s what the kangaroo was thinking as well,” Rowan called.
Aslin turned and gave her a look, fighting his own laugh. The roo keepers were standing beside Rowan, holding the animal by a leash as she and Tilly petted its muscled back. Whatever had aroused its interest in Chris had seemingly passed and the animal was now happy to munch on the grass under its paws without any interest in the humans around it.
Ten minutes later, with Tilly clutching an almost life-size kangaroo soft toy—a gift from the zoo to Chris—they made their way to the harbour jetty and climbed aboard the luxurious motor yacht arranged by the studio.
“Well—” the actor smirked, lounging on the cockpit’s leather bench seat, “—that was one for the books. Thank God your paparazzi friend wasn’t there to capture it all, Rowan, or my reputation would be in serious danger.”
Beside Aslin, Rowan snorted. “You know, squirt, there’s a part of me that kinda wishes that had happened.”
Chris grinned. “Ah, shut up, sis. Or I’ll tell everyone on set what happened yesterday.”
Tilly lifted her face from the side of the plush kangaroo. “What happened yesterday?”
Rowan glared at her brother. “Nothing.”
Aslin forced his grin to stay away. He couldn’t however, stop his groin stirring. Even the thoroughly embarrassing arrival of Chris at his trailer and Rowan’s subsequent backward tumble through the door couldn’t taint the memory of making love to her for the first time. It was too potent. That they’d spent the night together only added to the powerful response in his body.
They’d travelled back to Aslin’s hotel room after filming finished for the day, hung the Do Not Disturb sign from the door knob and proceeded to get to know each other on a purely carnal level. He’d never come so many times in one night as he had last night. Thank sodding God, he was in peak physical condition or he’d be completely buggered now.
He’d just started to fall asleep when the morning sun began bathing his modest room in a warm golden glow. Opening his eyes, a smile had stretched his lips. Rowan still snuggled against him, her cheek resting on his chest, her thigh draped over his legs.
He’d let her stay that way, his gaze tracking the sunlight as it moved across the ceiling, as the realization he never wanted to share a bed with anyone else but her again crashed into him.
The notion of having sex with anyone else but Rowan had made his gut churn.
The thought of Rowan having sex with anyone else but him didn’t just make his gut churn, it made him…angry.
He’d stared at the ceiling, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, Rowan’s heat seeping into his body, his morning hard-on a steel rod of eager need, and bit back a shaky breath.
Falling in love with an American hadn’t been part of his plan when he’d left Murriundah. What the fuck did he do about it?
Now, standing on the motor yacht, the husky timbre of Rowan’s voice playing with his senses as she and Tilly and Chris talked amongst themselves, he still didn’t have an answer.
Nor did he have an answer about who was trying to hurt her.
He di
dn’t know what pissed him off more.
“Four more days of shooting before we pack up and move to Berlin.”
The sudden silence told Aslin he’d missed something important. He pulled his focus back to the three Americans sitting in the cockpit. “Sorry?”
Chris chuckled. “I said Nigel estimates we’ve only got four more days of shooting in Sydney left. If it all goes well, we’ll be flying to Berlin on Saturday.”
A cold tension stole through Aslin’s muscles. He flicked Rowan a quick look, doing his damnedest to keep his expression relaxed. Berlin?
Rowan wasn’t looking at him. She was studying the water around them, her shoulders square, her eyes hidden by black Ray Bans.
“What about you, Ms. Hemsworth?” Tilly frowned at Rowan’s profile. “Are you going to Berlin? Don’t you have a tournament in New Delhi to fight in next week?”
“Ah, shit, that’s right, sis.” Chris turned to his sister, his frown mirroring Tilly’s. “When do you fly out for that?” He waited for a second before sliding his gaze to Aslin. “Or are you not flying anywhere?”
Whatever answer Rowan was going to provide was halted by a group of women squealing Chris’s name from a yacht sailing past them. If she was going to answer at all. By the way she continued to stare out over the boat’s aft, her spine stiff, her jaw bunched, Aslin highly doubted a word was going to pass her lips.
He studied her, the thrum of the boat’s motor adding to the churning sensation in his gut.
Berlin. New Delhi.
She hadn’t mentioned New Delhi last night. Come to think of it, they’d hardly talked about anything last night. They’d fucked. Showered. Fucked some more. Ordered room service. Ignored the food as they went at it again. Picked at the cold burgers and chips while searching for something on the hotel movie service to watch before giving up any pretense of being restrained and fucking like rabbits again. Aslin drove his blunt nails into his palms. When, in amongst all that, had any chance of talking about their future plans popped up?
Muscle for Hire Page 11
