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Authors: Mari Carr

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despair. He watched her close down, watched her barricade herself behind her self-erected walls. He

sighed. He felt like he was trapped in a dark room without a speck of light, her thoughts locked so tightly away from him.

“Then what is it? Why are you running away from this? From us?”

“I just need some time to—” He waved the rest of her words away.

“To hell with time!”

Her temper broke in the face of his fury and she pushed away from the wall and took an angry step

toward him. “What’s the matter, Ty? Afraid you won’t get your precious screenplay written? I’ve signed the contract. I’ll finish the stupid thing. You don’t need to fuck me to get that.”

“Is that what you think?” he yelled. “That I’m fucking you for the story? Jesus Christ, Gwen. That’s

quite a high opinion you hold of me. Maybe you and Bambi aren’t so different after all.”

“Why don’t you just admit that you need this movie? That you’ll do anything to see it made?”

“Who told you that?”

“My agent mentioned it when I returned to New York to pack my things. She’d spoken to your agent,

who apparently wasn’t as thrilled by the bargain we’d struck as you were.”

“And you honestly think I’m having sex with you to ensure that you’ll stay and finish writing the

script? I have a contract for that. Besides, up until this point, I haven’t seen you resisting me very hard.”

She sucked in an angry breath, but he shook his head, halting any reply she might have made.

“I’ve changed my mind. It’s not me you think so little of. It’s yourself.”

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Rough Cut

She gasped at his harsh words, but he couldn’t regret them. Never once since her return to his house

had she indicated she understood his need to make this movie. Never once had she asked him why it was so important.

“Do you know why I want to make this movie?”

She shook her head and he tried to not react, to soften toward the tears he saw forming in her eyes.

“Because I believe in your story. It moved me, Gwen. It changed me in ways I can’t even begin to

explain or understand. I want to show these characters to the world.”

“I thought you wanted to make a break from the cookie-cutter heroes you portray.”

“I do,” he admitted. “And you’ve given me the perfect vehicle for that escape.”

“Why didn’t you tell me how much it meant to you?”

He shrugged. “For this very reason, I suppose. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for the

script.”

“I never thought that.” Her answer was soft and he could see she meant what she said. He breathed a

sigh of relief until her next words.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“No, you aren’t.” He knew he should simply let her walk out the door, but his heart would never let

her take the first step away from him.

There was something frightening her, lurking inside and keeping her at a distance. Something that

their interlude in the limo had set free. He knew she was merely picking a fight, hoping to escape and he grinned. She didn’t know him very well if she thought he’d let her go so easily.

They’d both been avoiding this conversation—hell, any conversation—since her return from New

York. They’d been so wrapped up in the delight, the joy, of their newfound sexual relationship that they’d forgotten to talk to each other. “What happened to you, Gwen? Who hurt you?”

A small, strangled sob escaped her lips and he reached out to grasp her trembling hands. “Tell me.

Tell me so we can deal with it and move on.”

She shrugged, but he watched as she valiantly stemmed the tears threatening to fall. “Don’t you see?

It’s me. There’s something wrong with me.”

He shook his head, but she dismissed his gesture. “I’ve always found my love affairs boring and sex

more frustrating than fulfilling. A few years ago, I met a nice man and we started dating. He was romantic and sweet and for the first time in my life, I’d truly fallen in love. One night, I drank a bit too much champagne. Scott and I went to bed and in my tipsy state, I asked him to spank me. He was appalled,

mortified, and I tried to retract my words, blame the alcohol, but he knew my request had been sincere. He tried to give me what I wanted. He loved me enough that he actually forced himself to try. It was a terrible experience for both of us, and eventually our sex life died, dragging the love right along with it.”

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53

Mari Carr

“He was an idiot. That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.” Ty was surprised to see the

sad, disbelieving smile it evoked on her lips.

“I can’t ask you to—” she paused, searching for the words. “If you felt like I was— I couldn’t stand it if you—”

“Shit, Gwen. Have you listened to a word I’ve said? I want the same damn things. I want you so badly

I can taste it.”

“It won’t stop with the spankings.”

“What?”

“I want more than that. So much more.”

He looked at her and realized what lay at the heart of her fears. He had been wrong to try to initiate her slowly. She’d mistaken his caution for reticence, misunderstood that he wanted exactly what she did.

“You want the whip?” he asked softly. “The cane? I’d give that to you. Gladly.”

She trembled as he spoke the words. “I couldn’t ask you to do that to me. It’s too much, too

abnormal.”

He laughed. “You think
you’re
abnormal? What the fuck do you think I am? What kind of man wants to hurt the woman he loves? Wants to control her every desire, her every word.” He turned around and

walked away from her lovely face to stop himself from seeing the disgust she must feel at his admission. If her own desires frightened her, what would his do to her? He grabbed the bed frame to still the shaking in his hands.

She didn’t answer for such a long time, he wondered if she’d snuck out. Escaped.

“You love me?” she whispered.

He turned at her question as his words replayed in his mind. “Yeah.” There was no point in denying

the truth. “Yeah, I do.” He shrugged, helpless to the emotion that had run over him like a freight train the first moment he laid eyes on her. He gave her a small smile when she continued to stare at him silently. “I think this is the part where you tell me you love me too. Might be a nice touch if you throw in something about my rock-hard abs and sexy face.” He was desperate to wipe away the sadness, the fear in her eyes while covering up the fact he was completely terrified himself.

She rolled her eyes. “God you’re a cocky bastard, Hollywood.” She laughed softly. “Don’t let this go

to your head or anything, but I think I might care for you too—a little. I just don’t think I can go through the heartache again when you realize how much I need from you.”

“So what if we like our sex rougher than other people? So what if we get off on things other people

find bizarre? Big deal. I’m not fucking them. I’m fucking you and I want the same things you do.”

She closed her eyes as he spoke and he could sense her fighting not to believe him, too afraid of

giving her heart again. Clearly, he would have to match his words with actions. He crossed the room until he stood in front of her.

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Rough Cut

“Get on your knees.”

“What?”

“On your knees. Now!”

A wave of unbridled lust punched him in the gut like a heavyweight boxer when she dropped to the

floor before him. He hastily unfastened his pants and shoved them and his boxers down in one swoop. He gripped her hair tightly, rewarded by her moan as she engulfed his engorged flesh in her mouth with one deep pass.

She swallowed his cock to the back of her throat and he pulled her hair as he forced her to move

faster, deeper. She reached up to grip his thighs, her fingers digging into his legs. She hummed as she dragged her teeth along the hard flesh.

He moved out, gripping her face and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Not this way. Not this time.”

Reaching down, he helped her to her feet. Kicking off his shoes and pants, he dragged her to the bed

and pushed her toward the mattress.

“Hands and knees.”

She moved into position as he reached up to loosen the straps at the head of the bed. “Give me your

wrists,” he demanded. “No fighting this time.”

When she complied, he secured them together above her head, forcing her to support herself on her

elbows.

He moved over to his dresser and picked out several neckties. Tonight he wanted her to understand

the true meaning of bondage, of submission.

Reaching beneath her, he tied her knees together, then secured another tie around her ankles and a

final one around her elbows. She was trussed up tightly, her motion limited. In this position, her ass was open, at his disposal, while the rest of her body was bound, vulnerable.

He ran his fingers along the slit between her legs and discovered she was ready to play. “So wet,” he

whispered as she shivered. He knew her reaction wasn’t based on cold, but rather anticipation, exhilaration.

There was nothing wrong with what they were doing and if it took him all night, he would convince

her of that.

Leaning over, he opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a tube of lubrication. He knew she

watched him, knew from the slight trembling she was aware of his intentions.

Taking his time, he worked the lubrication into her virgin ass, first with one finger, then with two. She hissed when he added the third digit, but when she began to shove back against his fingers, he knew she was ready. Tossing the lube to the floor, he rose to his knees behind her and placed his cock at her anus.

After tonight, he refused to wear a condom. Those days were over. If she wasn’t already on birth

control, he’d take her to the doctor tomorrow for the shot.

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Mari Carr

Slowly, he eased his way inside her, trying to pay attention to her body’s signals, searching for any

proof that she didn’t like this, didn’t want this. When he was fully seated, he paused, the tightness of her ass clenching his cock in a painful, glorious manner.

His hips retreated almost completely before moving back inside, hard, steady, strong. She screamed

and he felt the beginning of her climax.

“You don’t have permission.”

“So punish me,” she hissed as her orgasm ripped through her. He fought back a grin at her challenge.

She would never match his image of the perfect submissive and he was so very grateful for that. She was so much more than he’d ever dared to hope for. He thrust his cock into her, struggling to maintain control of his own building climax. It was all too fast. He wanted this moment to last.

She began to come again, right on the heels of her previous orgasm and he slapped her ass as he

continued to pound into her. He timed his spanking with his thrusts. His punishment turned quickly into a pleasure neither of them had ever known, ever experienced. She cried as her third climax pierced through her body, taking him down for the count as well.

After he untied her, he wrapped his arms around her. Glancing out the window at the midnight sky, he

realized evening songs were definitely the sweetest.

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Chapter Seven

Vignette Four: Evening Songs

…As the elderly man holds his beloved wife in his arms, the sun rises and the scene fades to black.

OLD MAN

(whispering)

Forever.

Gwen finished typing the last word of the screenplay, leaning back in the desk chair and trying to

covertly wipe away the damn tears gathering in her eyes. Ty’s chuckle alerted her to the fact he’d caught her in action.

“Do you need a tissue?”

“No thanks, Hollywood. I’m not crying.”

“Of course not, just some dust in your eye, right?” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. She tried to

laugh at his jest, but a small sob escaped before she could hold it back. “Hey.” He pulled back to study her face. “You really are upset. Is it the ending? Don’t you like it?”

“I love it. It’s perfect. Really. I’m just being silly.”

“I don’t think there’s anything silly about getting attached to your characters. You’ve created them

and they’re a part of you.”

She nodded as he attempted to console her. She didn’t know how to tell him that her crying actually

had very little to do with the script and everything to do with the fact that their collaboration was over. For two months, they’d shared this room, fighting over plot points and making love until the wee hours.

He’d explained in detail about his desire to tackle a more serious film, and she’d been touched by how much his craft meant to him. He was an amazingly talented actor and he would be a phenomenal producer.

She’d followed him to the sets of various projects during their time together and he never failed to take her breath away. However, there was a small, insecure part of her that simply couldn’t believe he was attracted to her.

Once they’d jumped the hurdle of her fears and insecurities in regard to her sexual preferences, the

dam had broken and they spent night after night just talking, sharing secrets. She’d never felt as close to anyone as she did Ty.

Mari Carr

He had a definite knack for uncovering her deepest, darkest fantasies and bringing them to life. She

glanced across the room at the St. Andrew’s Cross he’d erected a month ago. She’d spent countless hours bound to the structure as he brought her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined possible.

He followed where her gaze had landed.

“I think we should celebrate.” He took her hand and helped her rise.

“Celebrate?”

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