For Her (The Girl I Loved Duet 1)

It pushes me over the edge, and I can’t help the cry that comes from me, only to be silenced by Peter’s free hand. I’m glad the sound is muffled, because I can’t stop.

Pleasure is a storm and I’m caught in it, being twirled in the winds until I’m wrung out. But Peter isn’t finished, thrusting deep, each movement sending off bright aftershocks behind my eyes, and I moan into his hand.

He’s close. I can tell. His breathing is ragged, and the hand pinning my wrists slips a little. All at once he pulls back, out of me but staying close, hand falling to his cock as he comes, stroking himself through it, cum falling onto my panties and thighs.

And then he’s done, both of us breathing like we’ve run a marathon. He grins, a smirk that shakes me to my core because it’s so sexy and I know that he’s thought of something that will make me just want to fuck him again.

He reaches down and pulls my panties up, followed by the jeans. He hooks them and zips them and does the belt, a notch or two tighter than I would have. Tucking himself back into his pants, he presses me into the wall, lips at my ear. “Don’t you dare change those panties.”

My heart rate speeds up. “What would you do if I did?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. But I like the idea of you sitting all day in my mess. So that every time you feel it, you know exactly how hard I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

There’s no moisture in my mouth anymore. It’s all gone to my pussy, and I’ve turned a bright red. I know that I have. It should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. It makes me hot.

I reach over and pull a long-sleeve shirt off one of the racks and pull it over my head. Letting a smirk come to my face, I look him dead in the eye. “You better make good on that promise.”

And then I walk away.

Just in time too. As soon as I exit the wardrobe closet, I hear the first of the production staff come in. There’s a sense of relief and also an adrenaline rush from the possibility that we could have been caught. I can see how that feeling could be addicting, and I should be careful of that. But right now, I have work to do.

And work I do, even though every time I look at Peter I’m fighting a blush because I think about this morning and the fact that he marked me. I’m wearing him on me, and he’s wearing me on his cock, and no one knows but the two of us.

He gives me looks that send heat searing straight between my legs and I’m amazed that no one notices. It’s after lunch when I hear a commotion behind me, and turn to find that Clay Markham is on the set. He smiles and waves as he comes over to me.

“Hi,” I say, standing awkwardly to give him a hug.

He pats my back and then lets me go. Clay is old enough to be my father, and even though he’s an ass most of the time to most people, he’s always had a soft spot for me. It’s probably why I have this job at all. “I thought I’d stop by and see how it’s going. I’ve heard really good things.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow.

He laughs, because I always call him on his bullshit. “Fine. I wanted to see how badly you’re fucking up my show,” he says good-naturedly. “But I actually have had some good stories coming off the set. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I think we’ve done some good stuff.”

“I’m sure you have. And you’ve proven that you’re a serious director. A serious female director. Not everyone does that.”

I shake my head. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, dear. Nothing.” He waves a hand. “Just Hollywood drama. Nothing more.”

“Oh.” I nod. “We’ve been kind of isolated from that here. Not paying attention to the gossip and just trying to create the best show that we can.”

“Excellent,” he says. “Well I didn’t have much time today, but I still wanted to say hello. Can I stop by again sometime?”

“You’re always welcome,” I say. “You’re the reason I’m here.”

Clay winks at me and taps me on the nose. “You did plenty of the work to deserve it. See you later!”

He sweeps out of the room leaving half the crew staring after him, and I can’t stop the smile that comes while I shake my head. Clay Markham is one of those classic Hollywood characters that everyone imagines, but doesn’t think can possibly be real. But he’s real all right.

I have no idea what he was talking about with drama, but I know someone who will. “Gloria!” I call, and she materializes by my side like a genie from a lamp.