Over Exposed (9 page)

Her pussy lips were flushed and plump. And hot. And wet. He rubbed his fingers in the moisture, coating them with it as he worked her clit. He heard her breathing increase and felt her thighs clench, trying to close, but his knees didn't budge.

“I want to watch you come, just like this, sweetheart. Spread out in front of me with my fingers inside you. Then I'll make you come with my mouth. After that, I'll work my cock inside your pussy and fuck you hard and fast.”

Her mouth parted, her slightly shocked expression only making him more determined.

Breaching her with his fingers, he watched her hips arch off the bed as he stroked, gently at first, only giving her the tip of one finger, crooking it inside then dragging it back out.

So soft. He wanted to feel that softness against his tongue.

Soon.

On each inward stroke, he went a little deeper. Then he added another finger.

Releasing her thigh, he used his thumb and forefinger to tease her clit, exposing it to the air and watching her suck in a sharp breath, then tweaking it until her hips thrust in time with his fingers.

His breath came harder now, watching her work toward her climax. His cock stood stiff and ready—he was going to have to rethink this plan. He wouldn't be getting his mouth on her this time. He wouldn't have the patience.

Increasing the pressure on her clit, he gave it a rough tweak and felt her pussy clench around his fingers in a short, sharp orgasm.

“Greg.”

His name fell from her lips and sealed the deal. He ripped the condom out of his back pocket. The one he'd stashed in there this morning after that kiss. He didn't want to use the damn thing but that was going to require a conversation.

And that sure as hell wasn't happening right now.

Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers from her body, groaning when she grabbed his wrist and tried to hold his fingers inside her.

“Hang tight, sweetheart. Just let me—”

He got the condom unwrapped and rolled on in mere seconds. Not bothering to lose his jeans, he planted one hand on the mattress and used his free hand to guide his shaft straight to her sex.

In the next second, he was working his way inside.

Tight, so fucking tight.

Still working through her orgasm, her pussy grasped onto him, trying to take him deeper.

He tried not to go too fast, to lose control, but the feel of her closing around him, the heat of her pussy, and the strength of her arms as she wrapped them around him and held on when he started to thrust . . . it was too damn much.

He went hard and deep from the first second and he couldn't stop himself.

Their height difference was more noticeable in this position and he had to lift his upper body away to kiss her. Which made his hips press closer and his cock sink even deeper. He groaned as he fucked her mouth with his tongue in the same rhythm as his hips.

She moved with him, her body a sinuous dance beneath his. Her breasts pressed against his chest made him want to flip their positions and let her ride him while he sucked on her nipples.

Next time.

Now, he moved one hand to her right leg and tugged. She took the hint and wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him slide even deeper.

Her arms and legs tightened around him as she gasped, turning her head to the side. He froze, afraid he might've hurt her.

Then he heard her gasp out, “Don't stop,” as her fingernails raked his back.

He bucked like she'd smacked his ass with a crop, then fucked her hard and fast. He lost himself in the tightness of her body and the warmth of her skin pressed against his. In the scent of her arousal and the sound she made every time he thrust back inside her.

He didn't know how long he could hold out, his attention focused on the sensation of his cock being clenched by her pussy. It made him lose all rational thought.

When she cried out, not more than a breath of sound, he felt her sheath grip his cock like a vise. He had the vague notion that he could ride this out, hold back his own orgasm so he could wind her up again.

But it wasn't going to happen. He'd reached his breaking point.

With her legs locked around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, he thrust and held deep as he came.

*  *

Greg collapsed over her with a sigh, his cock still pulsing deep inside her.

Sabrina had to turn her head to the side so she could breathe, but refused to release her arms and legs.

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God.

The words would not stop going through her head.

Exhaustion and exhilaration made it hard for her to catch her breath while every muscle in her body tingled . . . and her sex throbbed.

And when he pulled out, she thought she might come again. Every inch of her was sensitized to him. Every breath he took, she felt as if his lungs kept hers going as well. Every breath she took was filled with his scent, so deeply male she wanted to lick his skin to see if he tasted the same.

His heart pounded against her chest, calling to hers to join his rhythm.

Oh, my God, she'd had sex with Greg Hicks.

And holy crap, it'd been amazing.

For several long minutes, she lay there, holding on to him. Not ready to let go, though she'd have to soon enough. He had at least sixty pounds on her and needed to breathe to remain conscious. But—

Damn, he must have read her mind because he rolled. But he took her with him, rearranging them so he was on his back and she lay curved against his side.

I could get used to this, every night.

Draping her arm over his chest, she put her head on his shoulder and tried to catch her breath.

Which was pretty damn difficult to do when he wound one hand into her hair and put the other on her bare ass. She shivered, not at the room temperature but at the possessive way he held her. His hand on her ass began to smooth over her skin, from her lower back to her thighs.

Oh, my God, if he kept doing that, she'd be ready to go again in minutes.

“You cold?” Greg's voice, husky and deep, made her shiver again.

“Hmm. A little.”

He shifted beneath her. She shouldn't have said anything. She didn't want him to move. Not yet.

But instead of leaving the bed and handing her clothes to her, he reached across her to grab the comforter they were laying on and drag it over her.

The silky material slid against her already sensitized skin and raised more goose bumps. As she huddled closer to Greg, her mound bumped against his hip and she bit back a moan, wanting to grind herself on him to satiate the already building lust.

Maybe she'd made a serious miscalculation here—

“So, I've been thinking about this scene,” he said. “It's pretty late in the film and I'm not sure yet if I'm going to keep it.”

—because she'd thought maybe the ache would lessen after they'd had sex. Maybe it'd even go away. Like scratching an itch.

“But it's pretty pivotal to an earlier scene I've been thinking about adding, and that could push the run time into two hours.”

And now he wanted to talk about his movie?

Yeah, so what do you want to talk about?

Good point.

“What do you think?”

She thought she was in deep shit because all she wanted to do was lie here naked and warm against him and talk about his movie.

When she pulled away enough so that she could look up at him, he looked like he was actually waiting for an answer. A coherent answer.

Luckily, she'd been listening, mostly because all she wanted to do when he spoke was listen.

“I think if you need the scene, you should add it. I watch movies all the time where I feel like they rushed things just to get the film to fit a certain time frame. That's cheating.”

He smiled at her, and her stomach did that thing where it felt like it turned end over end.

And when he leaned down and kissed her, she had to control her first reaction to crawl onto his body and rub against him until he was hard, she was wet, and there was no question about what would happen next.

When he pulled away this time, after scrambling her brain once again, she could tell from the look on his face that his brain was already back to thinking about his screenplay. She couldn't decide whether to be pissed off that he'd already dismissed her or relieved this wasn't going to be awkward.

Turning toward the other side of the bed, she began to gather her clothes.

“Sabrina?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, she turned, holding the sheet to her breasts like a shield. Which was ridiculous considering what they'd been doing only minutes ago.

“Yes?”

His eyes narrowed. “Stay. Just like that.”

Her eyes widened and she had half a mind to remind him she wasn't a dog he could order around.

Then he reached for his camera.

She froze. “Greg, what—”

“No, no. Don't freeze up on me, babe.”
Click, click.
“Just look at me.”

Her cheeks burned and she clutched the sheet higher as he walked around the bed, camera still trained on her. “What are you doing?”

“You look amazing and sexy.”

The blush that had started in her cheeks became a full-body flush. No one had ever said that to her and she didn't know how to respond. He made her want to give him anything he wanted.

“But . . . I don't . . . I'm not a model.”

“Don't want you to be.”
Click, click, click.
“Models sell a product. I'm capturing a mood.”

She frowned as he continued to snap away.

“And what are you going to do with these?”

He lowered the camera, his gaze intent on hers. “No one else will ever see them. I promise you that. If you want me to, I'll give you the SD card as soon as I'm done here. Just let me take them and show you what I see when I look at you. How sexy you are.”

She remembered how she'd felt when he'd taken the pictures of her before. Sexy. Confident. Completely feminine.

But that had been different. She'd been showing off Kate's lingerie. Now his emphasis was totally on her.

And it made her wonder what her hair looked like and had the little bit of mascara she'd put on this morning smudged.

He lowered the camera just enough that he could see her over it. “Now your head's not in the right place. What are you thinking about?”

She pulled a face at him and the camera went back up. And she started to smile as she shook her head. “I'm thinking I probably look like a hot mess.”

“Sweetheart, you are in no way a mess.”

“Yeah, but this just seems so weird. If you're going to take pictures of me, you have to talk to me while you do it.”

“Okay. Sure. What do you want to know?”

Hmm.
“Have you always been into photography?”

“Yep. Got the bug from my dad pretty young and I never really lost it, even when I realized film was what I wanted to do.”

“I guess the two aren't that different.”

He shrugged, the camera still at his eye. “They're just two different mediums. Photography is the capture of a moment in time. A photo can be a perfect distillation of a thought or emotion. Film—good film, anyway—draws you into its world and makes you part of it. It engages you.”

As Greg continued to talk, she almost forgot that he was taking pictures of her. She became so enthralled with the peek he was giving her into his head.

The man was brilliant but then she'd known that, at least subconsciously. He'd created a successful business and managed to hold it together when so many had gone down in flames. But the way he talked about film, about the art of it, it made her hot for him all over again.

The camera began to click faster. Obviously Greg had noticed.

Blinking, she looked away.

And the camera stopped.

“Hey, you okay? What happened?”

Looking back, she saw Greg had dropped the camera to his side and stared at her through narrowed eyes.

He hadn't put his shirt back on yet and she had a hard time keeping her gaze from dropping to his chest. He had a couple of tattoos that she hadn't noticed before, probably because her attention had been focused on . . . other things.

“I'm fine. Just, uh . . . I really should get back to work.”

She tried to make her voice sound normal, like she always stopped to have sex with hot guys in the middle of her workday.

She smiled and turned toward the opposite side of the bed to pull her clothes back on. He continued to stand there, watching her dress, but she didn't turn around until she was completely covered.

Which was ridiculous because he'd spent the better part of an hour with her body pressed up against his and had just spent the last fifteen minutes taking pictures of her mostly naked.

Reaching for her laptop, she forced herself to walk to him as if the last hour hadn't happened.

“I'm just going to head downstairs and work in the lounge. I'll see what I can put together for lunch. Do you want me to bring you a tray?”

His eyes had narrowed down to slits as she spoke and she knew he was picking apart her every word, trying to figure out any hidden meanings.

While she was being very careful not to have any. No hidden meanings. No thoughts at all.

Mentally, she was writing a list of all the things she needed to do today, including washing the sheets on this bed.

Guess you can cross “Greg” off that list.

Forcing another smile before her face turned a very betraying shade of red, she headed for the circular stairwell and the sanctuary of the empty building.

Greg followed on her heels but she didn't stop to look behind her until she'd passed the door to his room.

Doubts about everything had started to crowd her mind, and she really didn't want to have him see her freak out completely.

“I'll be downstairs. Just let me know when you want to eat lunch.”