Authors: Mari Carr
Rough Cut (6 page)
do so.”
Suddenly she could see the advantages of sleeping with a director. She complied with his request, for
the first time in her life feeling sexy, hot, desirable. She kept her eyes on him as she shimmied the material over her hips. She’d worn a thong underneath and even the small part of her mind that denied wanting this had to admit she’d worn it for him. She saw him suck in a deep breath as her ass was bared to his eyes, only the thin string of the panties covering her.
“The thong, Gwen. Take it and your bra off. I want you naked. Now.”
She started to turn around to face him, but he shook his head. She peeled the panties off torturously
slow, delighted by the tenting at the front of his pants. She’d done that. She’d made him want her. The feeling was heady, exciting.
She stepped out of the thong, then reached to unfasten her bra. She was startled when she felt him step closer. He put his arms around her and as she pulled the lacy garment away, he was there to envelop her breasts in his large, strong palms from behind her.
She marveled at the sensitivity of his hot breath against her neck and his rough hands against her
delicate flesh. “Are you a virgin, wife?”
Her breathing raced and she struggled to speak. All she could do was shake her head in response.
“No,” he said. “Are you sure?”
She was confused by his question. Was she supposed to lie? He’d warned her not to. It was obvious
that regardless of his suggestion that they reenact the stories of her book, tonight was not playacting and they were not the young, bumbling couple from “The Honeymoon”.
“I’m sure,” she whispered.
“Have you ever been tied up in bed?”
She jerked a bit, but his hands on her breasts, gently massaging the pliant flesh, held her firmly in
place.
She shook her head.
“Bend over.”
For a moment, her mind revolted against her body’s screaming demands that she do anything and
everything this man said. When she failed to move, he released her breasts and pushed her shoulders
forward and down.
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“Grasp your ankles and stay like that. Don’t move unless I give you permission.”
She did as he asked, her thoughts whirling. She was in serious danger of hyperventilating. Her
breathing was harsh, ragged and he must have sensed her intense anxiety. “Calm down, Gwen. Relax. I
won’t hurt you.”
She wanted to snarl at his reassurance. Pain was the least of her worries. She needed him to hurry the hell up. He chuckled at her reaction and she wondered if he could read her mind.
His hands slowly rubbed over her ass, lightly gripping her hips and pulling her against his clad
erection.
Why is he still dressed?
She wanted to yell at him to correct that oversight, but she knew the complaint would fall on deaf
ears. He was truly the director of this scene.
She was shocked when after one nudge of his cock against her ass, he stepped back. He replaced his
hips with his hands as he dragged them through the slit down to her pussy. She could feel the moisture pooled there, knew she was practically dripping, knew she’d never been wetter.
“Spread your legs apart, but keep your hands around your ankles.”
She struggled to obey, but apparently he wasn’t happy with her attempt. “Farther apart,” he
demanded. “I won’t let you fall.”
His tone sent a fresh flood of juice between her thighs and she realized the error of his thinking. How could she tell him she was falling, falling so deeply into this scene, into his words, that she feared she’d never find her way out again?
He steadied her with his hands upon her waist and she closed her eyes against the sensations of being
completely naked before this man, baring all her assets to his hungry gaze.
His fingers returned to her pussy and he used her juices to toy with her clit, his touches too light, too torturously soft. She struggled to push against him, but in her current position, her movements were
restricted, difficult.
“Please.” The cry was a familiar one whenever she was in his presence.
He responded to her plea not with words, but actions. His fingers left her clit completely and she
groaned.
“No,” he said. “Your orgasms belong to me and you haven’t earned one yet. You haven’t finished
answering my question.”
Question? He asked a question?
“Are you a virgin?”
“No,” she whispered. This wasn’t her book, these weren’t her characters. It may be a honeymoon of
his making, but she couldn’t pretend to be anything other than who she was. Besides, she wanted this night to be about her, not some make-believe character from her damn book.
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“Are you sure?” His fingers traveled to the opening of her body. Suddenly and without warning, he
slammed three digits inside her hot, needy flesh.
She cried out, gratitude mingling with the stars that flew through her. She tried to push against him, her body and mind screaming for him to move, to pound inside her, but he held his fingers motionless for several moments.
“You’ve had a man’s fingers in your cunt before?”
She nodded, but her silence seemed to annoy him. “Say it, Gwen.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “I’ve had a man’s fingers there before.”
“And a man’s cock?”
“Yes.”
“A dildo, a vibrator?”
“Yes.” She remembered her poor, battered toys as they lay in her unopened suitcase. She’d given
them a workout during her two weeks away from Hollywood. Ty’s name was the one word she’d cried out
night after night.
His hands left her as quickly as they’d entered her and she fought back tears of frustration. They
moved away from her pussy and back. She sucked in a breath when she realized his destination.
This time when he pushed into her body again, it was slower, one finger in her ass.
“Have you had a man’s finger in your ass before tonight?”
She nodded, but he waited for her words. “Yes.”
She knew what his next question would be and the thought of what he was asking, what he would do,
left her lightheaded.
“What about a cock?”
“No,” she whispered.
“So you are a virgin. You lied to me. You’ve never been tied up and you’ve never been fucked in the
ass. Have you ever been spanked?”
He seemed intent on bringing every deep, dark sexual secret to light and for a moment, she felt a spurt of angry rebellion bubble up inside her. Did he intend to lay out his past sexual exploits for her
examination?
“Not well,” she spat out, and she was surprised when he laughed. He leaned down to help her stand,
turning her in his arms and embracing her tightly.
“Jesus, you are a treasure.” His murmured compliment relaxed her, and as quickly as her anger came,
it left. His words, his actions, everything spoke to her, and she found it hard to keep the emotional distance she needed to maintain. What foolish part of her had believed she could have a physical relationship with the man and remain aloof? He was intent on conquering her, and although the battle had yet to begin—she sensed this interlude had been little more than a skirmish—she was already weak.
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“Go lie down on the bed. On your back, spread eagle.” He released her. “You’re going to offer me
that innocence, Gwen, and I’m going to accept it.”
She stepped away from him on unsteady feet, her mind trying to acclimate to the idea that he would
tie her up, spank her, fuck her ass. Did she want that?
She stifled a small giggle at the insane question. Did she
want
it? Holy hell, her only concern was that he wouldn’t do it quickly enough. He was intent on dragging this play out when all she wanted was hard, fast, rough sex for as long as they both shall live.
As she lay on the bed, she sucked in a breath.
As long as they both shall live
.
Where did that idea come from? This wasn’t a true honeymoon. It was business with a bit of pleasure
thrown in for good measure. She was here for two months. Two months to work on a screenplay and
perhaps enjoy some hot bed play with the handsome, sexy Ty Ransome. That was it. That was all.
Dear God, please let that be all.
Ty watched Gwen crawl onto his bed and position herself as he’d directed. He marveled at the fact his
cock seemed to grow even larger at the image of her laid out before him like a banquet feast. He honestly couldn’t believe any more blood could fit into his already aching, filled-to-bursting appendage. Christ. He was two seconds away from blowing and he hadn’t even taken off one stitch of clothing. His little author was a veritable sex kitten and she had no idea of her effect on him. She watched him through hooded
eyelids and for a moment he was overwhelmed with the desire to know exactly what she was thinking.
He knew she was approaching sex with him as a temporary thing. He’d seen her consider his
proposition and he knew the moment she’d decided to give in to their mutual attraction. Convincing her to stick around for the long run was going to be his real challenge. Well, that and dragging her repressed desires into the limelight. She seemed slightly appalled by her hot buttons. She obviously liked pain and the thought of bondage, but he watched her constantly try to hide those facts, deny their existence.
During their phone calls and conversations, he’d discovered she was a woman who was used to being
in charge of every aspect of her life and her career, but surely she must be tired of always making every decision, calling all the shots. By taking away her decisions in the bedroom, he suspected he could remove some of the lingering loneliness and stress reflecting in her eyes.
He walked to the end of the bed and looked at her. She constantly surprised him. Rather than squirm
uncomfortably under his scrutiny, she seemed to flourish with his appreciative looks. “You truly are lovely, Gwen.”
She smiled.
“I’m going to tie you up.” He reached down to reveal the straps he’d attached to the bed earlier. He’d concealed them and he could see a brief wariness in her eyes. “Pick a safe word. One word. If at any time 34
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during our sex play you become uncomfortable or frightened, say it and I’ll stop what I’m doing. But
Gwen, I must warn you. If you say the word, I won’t just pause, I’ll stop completely, so be very certain.”
She considered for a moment and he knew before she spoke her word he wasn’t going to like it. A
mischievous, all-too-pleased look crossed her face as she said, “Bambi. My safe word is Bambi.”
He stifled a groan and a grin of his own. She was a demon and an angel. “You’re never going to let
me live that down, are you?”
“Never,” she teased.
Her smile grew brighter and he decided to exact his own small bit of revenge against the impish
woman. He gripped her ankle firmly and pulled it toward the strap. He was shocked when she jerked her
leg back, out of his grip.
She shook her head as she rose to her knees. “You didn’t think I was going to make it that easy, did
you?”
He narrowed his eyes. She wanted to fight him? Clearly she didn’t understand how this game worked.
“Gwen.” She giggled at his harsh tone and continued to move away from him toward the head of the bed.
“Catch me.”
His breath caught in his throat, the image of capturing and conquering her a heady, exciting premise.
Jesus, she wanted to be chased and he knew there was nothing on earth he wanted more than to subdue her, force her to his will.
“If I have to chase you, I won’t take it easy on you,” he warned. She shuddered at his words and her
body flushed with anticipation. “Lie down, Gwen, and submit to me.” He silently prayed she would deny
him.
“No.”
At the sound of her single word, he pounced. He jumped onto the bed as she skittered off. She hadn’t
been kidding when she dared him. She flew across the room, clearly trying to escape. He raced after her and caught her as she struggled to open the door to his bedroom. He trapped her arms at her sides,
engulfing them in his own. He had to be careful to avoid her kicking legs. He felt her heart pounding as he locked his hands together under her breasts, pulling her against him.
“Your safe word?” He wanted to be sure, wanting to know that this game was just that—a game—and
that she was a willing participant. She slammed her heel down on his foot hard and for a moment, he lost his grip. She wiggled loose.
“No word,” she shouted.
She truly wanted this. It was all the confirmation he needed. She ran toward the patio, but didn’t make it two steps before he caught her by the hair. She screamed as he took her down to the floor. He knew she didn’t mind the roughness, but he refused to forget her fragility, refused to seriously hurt her. She lay trapped on her stomach as he used his entire body to subdue her.
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“Do you give up?” he asked roughly in her ear. “Will you submit?”
“Never.” Her breathlessness betrayed her excitement.
He caught her wrists in one hand, pulling them behind her, holding them firmly at the small of her
back. He moved down her thighs and roughly shoved her legs apart. She tried to kick out, but her mobility was limited by her position. He prodded the opening to her body, amazed by the juices flowing from her cunt. He shoved in two fingers, shocked when her orgasm flooded his hand with her arousal while
squeezing his fingers in a death grip of tensing, pulsating muscles.
Fuck. She was coming. She was climaxing from their game. This chase fantasy must have been one
