I began to whimper, overloaded with sensations, stuck between them, unable to alight on one in particular. My bottom was sore and tight and my pussy was wet and my clit was bursting into vivid life. I wanted it all and more, I wanted him inside me, I wanted all of myself filled with all of him.
He tongued an orgasm out of me with ease, then withdrew his mouth and continued spanking me until his free hand had dealt with the inconvenience of trousers and underpants. I loved the way his pelvis slapped against me, keeping me aware of the state of my bottom while my pussy was filled and thrust into.
He reached under to pull my breasts out of the basque cups and hold them as he banged into me, feeling and fumbling and plundering the soft flesh, flicking and pinching at my nipples. All of me was all of his and I knew he liked me to know it.
‘I suppose you’d like to come, would you?’ he asked between thrusts. There was no telling from his voice whether this question would lead to ecstasy or agony.
‘Yes, please, sir.’
‘Ah, well, you’ve been a good girl,’ he said. One hand quit my breasts and replaced itself over my clit, the fingertips pressing down in the way that always guaranteed a messy, wet-eyed, hot-cheeked orgasm from me.
This was no different. I bumped and ground on his fingers while he fucked hard. I fell into a chasm, a blind place of intense sensation. I was only aware of the noise I was making a few seconds after I started making it.
He took up the cry, lower and shakier, as if a part of him had been torn out with the orgasm. We collapsed, kissing damp brows, hugging each other’s bones.
A phone rang.
Jasper swore and yawned and seemed set on ignoring it, but at the last moment he reached down to the floor for his trousers and retrieved his phone from the pocket.
As soon as he got it, it stopped ringing. But he had seen the caller ID, because his eyes widened and he returned the call with a jabbing, urgent finger.
‘Who is it?’ I asked, pulling the sheet over me. ‘Is it the call you’ve been waiting for?’
He nodded, then spoke into the receiver.
‘Jim, hi, how’s it going?’
He got out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, leaving me to claw the air with frustrated curiosity.
He had been waiting weeks to find out if he could get funding for his next film project. I have to admit, a part of me was hoping that the answer would be no. There were things about this film that were awkward for me – especially since that stupid newspaper story. But he was set on the idea to the point of saying he’d produce it independently if it came down to it.
Now James Gretsch, one of the three big backers he had been courting, was on the phone. I found myself craving a cigarette and I didn’t even smoke.
He burst in so triumphantly that I didn’t even need to ask what the answer was. Gretsch had taken the bait.
‘Hang on to your bustle, baby,’ he announced. ‘Dunraven and Walters are coming to Tinseltown.’
Chapter Two
We were halfway through decorating the tree before he’d be drawn on any details. I had asked every question in my mind and more, but he’d deflected them all, wanting only to savour his moment of bliss until its purity faded and it had to be kept alive by talking it over.
‘So the film is going into pre-production after Christmas,’ he said, handing me a bauble. ‘And we’ll start filming in April.’
‘When you say pre-production,’ I said cautiously, trying not to get prickled by the little pine needles as I tied on the bauble, ‘that includes casting, I guess? After Christmas?’
He sucked a breath in between his teeth.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘well, I need to talk to you about that.’
My chest fizzed uncomfortably. I hadn’t agreed to this. I wasn’t going to be made to agree to this.
‘You didn’t say …’
‘Hush. We did discuss this, didn’t we? When we rehearsed the script. Nobody is more perfect for Walters than you, my love.’
‘But Jasper!’
‘We’ll need to sort out an Equity card for you, that’s all, then nothing will stand in our way.’