Reel (Hollywood Renaissance 1)

He wastes no time.

The sounds he makes when he feasts on my pussy will visit me in my dreams. Like a ravenous animal, he grunts and pants into the slick strip of nerves and flesh. He coaxes my legs up, sets my heels on the edge of the bed until my knees are bent and wide. His fingers push into me and I sit up on my elbows, unable to lay back any longer and desperate to see.

Three big fingers spear in and out, shiny with my wetness. He looks at me while he does it, and it is the most intimate act I’ve ever known. His beard gleams with my juices and he licks his lips, closing his eyes like the taste of me mesmerizes him. He shifts his hand, pushing his thumb inside and using all four fingers to squeeze and caress my clit, alternating the two touches until my breath huffs through my mouth. Spots appear before my eyes and I fall back again on the coolness of the comforter, helpless as the orgasm clenches the muscles in my legs and burns up my thighs until my pussy contracts around his fingers, gripping and flexing compulsively. I cover my eyes and scream, my release echoing in the room, slamming into the walls.

“Oh, God, Canon.” It comes out as a broken sob, my body weeping for him in every way. Pouring out my desire like an offering, and wrenching tears from my eyes. His mouth slows, less urgent, licking, tasting, savoring.

When he stands, my knees are still bent, my legs pushed up. There’s no dignity to it, and I don’t give a damn. I ache for him. As my orgasm crests and falls, the emptiness where he should be yawns and yells.

“Canon, please,” I whisper, careless of the tears slipping from the corners of my eyes. The ache is so strong, a creature demanding to be fed. “Right now.”

He stands over me, still fully clothed, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. I’ve never seen him like this. Canon has always been careful when and how he looks at me, reducing our contact to the minimum, so this unfiltered, unchecked force of his attention, flies like sparks across my skin. There’s something primitive and possessive in the stare that sweeps my body. The way he looms over me makes me feel small and powerful in the same breath.

I raise to my knees and reach for him. Lashes lowered, he watches me slide the buttons loose and spread the shirt open over his broad chest.

I feel, in some ways, like he was at an advantage. I’ve done sex scenes and been nearly nude on set. He’s seen almost everything even before tonight, but I’ve only fantasized about the sculpted heat of his body. I tug at his belt, freeing it from the loops of his pants, and with deceptively steady fingers, unbutton and unzip, pushing them to the floor.

He’s such a beautiful specimen and, under my hungry eyes, completely immobile. Still and waiting for my next move. It makes me feel even more powerful, this man, so completely in charge of everything all the time, at my mercy. Awaiting my pleasure and his. I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and push them to the floor, too.

Big dick energy, indeed.

With one hand, I grip his neck, urge his head down, and crash our lips together. The kiss, spiced with my essence, spins my head and sends pinpricks of sensation through my body. While our tongues and breaths tangle, I reach between us and grip his cock, tugging at first tentatively and then with confidence. His breath grows ragged over my lips until our kiss dissolves altogether and his mouth opens on a groan.

My hand looks so small wrapped around him. I rub my thumb over the glistening head, spreading the slickness. I sit on the bed, wanting to take him into my mouth, but he stops me, his hand gripping my hair and holding my head back.

“Next time,” he rasps.

Wordlessly, he climbs onto the bed, pulling me with him until his back rests against the headboard. Taking me by the hips, he guides me up and over his thighs until I’m straddling him. My pussy throbs with the promise of finally being filled, and I whimper at the delay when he reaches over to the bedside table, grabs a condom, and slides it over himself.

He runs his palms down my back, skimming my spine and spreading my ass.

“You okay?” he asks, searching my face in the warm light.

I nod. “I want this, Canon.”

“Me, too.” He leans in to kiss me, and it’s passionate, rough, and searching and demanding, his tongue plundering my mouth. All the while, he’s shifting me forward until I’m poised over him. I spread my legs wider and guide him inside.