As the cast and crew grumble about Mondays, I shadow Sally around the craft services tables loaded with coffee and a buffet breakfast. Last night gave me time to regret crossing professional boundaries anew, once I reluctantly washed the smell of her off my hands. You wouldn’t know to watch her, but she’s doggedly avoiding me with cheerful smiles for everyone else on the set. In the end, I give her enough space, and she eventually wanders into another room with her coffee. I corner her in a little nook that lets me cut off her escape.

“Can we talk about—?”

“Must we?” She sips her coffee and somehow smiles with her eyes over the rim. “I had a good time, but I want people to remember my acting, not who I’m screwing on set. On the other hand, I also want to do that again. Soon.”

The atmosphere turns tense as quickly as a thought. The way she tells me what she wants, so plainly stated, makes me want her more. If this woman wanted to fake it, she could make you feel worshiped. She could rip out your heart and be gone before you noticed the hole, because she could be anyone you wanted her to be.

I step closer.

“You like the way I fingered you, don’t you? You like the way I’m hung. And you want my dick in your—” People pass in the hallway so close I could touch them. “Your cunt,” I finish in a whisper.

Her lips part and her chin lifts. She sways toward me before righting herself.

“Yes.” It’s almost a sigh. “I want every inch of that big dick of yours inside me, Quinn.”

I let my eyes linger on the front of her t-shirt, where her pebbled nipples give her away. I’m getting hard, and I need control. Now that I know I’ll have her, I can pull it together. I hope. I let my eyes linger on the front of her t-shirt, where her pebbled nipples give her away.

“As much as I’d love to give it to you now and here, this is a risk for me, too. My career will take a hit, a big one, if I get that kind of reputation. I’ve seen it happen to my mates.”

“Then I don’t see the problem. We’ve both got a good reason to keep this between us—and I mean strictly between us. We can be professional and eat our cake, too.”

“Cut! That’s it, guys. Sally and Bradley, you fucking nailed this scene. Come here, guys, bring it in. Everybody.” The director makes a big show of wrapping for the day, as if a thirteen hour day is a gift. “You’ve all worked really hard to get caught up, and I plan to show my appreciation for all your hard work this far. Drinks and dancing, off set, on me. Look sharp, everybody.” He glances around. “I want to see everyone there. Line up drivers. I don’t want anyone to have to drive back.” The last comment is directed at his assistant, who makes a note and starts scrolling through her phone immediately.

Sally said this morning that today’s shoot was a big plot twist reveal, so it would have to be perfect. I’m surprised they’re calling it, considering all the angst about the schedule. A few people grumble about having only an hour to get ready, but mostly everyone seems stoked. Except Sally, of course.

“This is such bullshit. My nights are mine,” she grouses as we walk along the front side of the east wing toward the front door. “I hate doing the big campfire singalong, or whatever this team building stuff is. I can do my job without it. And anyway, I’ve been counting on continuing our conversation from this morning.” She flashes a wicked grin my way.

“Everybody seems to like you, though. How can it be that bad? I get the impression everyone wants to know you better. That’s a good thing, right, especially if you’ll be on at least two more films with these people if it does well?”

“I just want to keep things professional. I like my personal life to stay private, and hanging out with coworkers makes that difficult.”

A couple others join us, and I wonder why Sally’s so determined to be a fortress.

A line of dark sedans lines up outside the estate, and the cast and crew gather in huddles wearing tight-fitting clothes. My own navy suit is impeccably tailored to hide the holstered gun at my waist with little to no bulge. I wait at the foot of the stairs, and I nearly whistle when Sally steps a strappy-heeled foot on the first stair. Her lean runner’s legs are flexed just right in the heels and bared to mid-thigh by a shimmering plum dress. It clings over her hips and drapes between her breasts, pulling my eyes to the valley between the gorgeous breasts that keep me up at night.

She takes my offered hand on the final couple steps, and heat flashes between our palms. Her face shifts into at-work-but-having-fun. I’m still the hired help, so I follow her out at a discreet distance. I sit in the front with the driver on the way. Sometimes when I steal a glance, I catch her eyes in the rearview.

At the posh nightclub, it takes approximately one point three drinks before people start dancing. I shadow Sally, doing my job. Someone pulls her laughing onto the dance floor, and I take up a waiting position. Sally looks every inch the glamorous Hollywood denizen she is.

More drinking, more dancing. Though she played a part to begin, Sally seems to be having actual fun. Her dancing gets looser and more sinuous. I linger at the edges, spine straight, back to the wall, scanning the crowd constantly. Someone pushes a drink in my hand, Jada, I think, and I taste it without actually drinking. It turns me on to watch her move, the lights catching the dress so that she literally shines.

I push off the wall when a group of guys blocks my view, but Sally shakes her fine ass into view, dancing around the bro cluster. Then she’s in front of me, and I attempt to sidle back to my wall. She shakes her head no, and she makes me want to stay. As she dances, her palms rest on her skirt and push it upward as she dances. She works closer to me, and I don’t see anything else but her, putting galaxies to shame.

Somehow in the crowd, the two of us split from the group. We’re our own island in the sea of pulsing rhythm. My hand finds her waist. Her hips rock into mine and then slip away. The crowd closes in, and a hand slides down the front of my pants. We sway together, and between us, I swipe a thumb over her nipple. The dress slides away to reveal a glimpse of rosy pink, and then she swivels so it falls back into place. Bodies heat up. In the dimness, her eyes lock on mine. I can’t wait to get my hands inside that dress.

Then the music dampens. The DJ squints at a note and leans into the mic.

“Is there a… Swan Sparkle here? I’ve got an emergency call for Swan Sparkle.”

Amused, I smile down at Sally, but her face has gone pale and bleak.

“What’s wrong, Sally? You okay?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m just ready to get out of here. Please?”

In the lull, the tremor in her voice is clear. I scan the crowd as I grab her hand in a death grip, pull her behind me to grab our stuff and tell the director she feels sick, and shoulder through the crowd to the exit. My eyes are in motion constantly, watching for an unknown threat. I signal one of the studio’s drivers waiting down the street. Once I hustle her inside, Sally huddles against the door and stares out the window.

“Sally?”

She doesn’t respond. When I touch her shoulder, she jumps.

“Hey, easy. What happened in there?”

“Nothing. I was getting hot and tired of the crowd. I was just ready to leave.”

“Right.” I might believe her if there was a hint of the sexy promises from before in her voice, but it’s completely flat.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Quinn.”

The driver glances in the rearview mirror. Anything I need to say should be private. I cross my arms and meet her stony silence with my own.

I thank the driver, and Sally stalks off into the house. Her door slams shut as I clear the stairs. On instinct, I try the handle and follow her in when it turns. As I enter, she glares at me but doesn’t tell me to leave, so I lock the door behind me. She crosses her arms over her middle, her hands clenching fistfuls of shimmery fabric.

“Protecting you is my job, and I’m pretty good at doing my job.” My brogue thickens, as it always does when I’m angry. “But you’ve got to level with me, or I can’t help you. Your signals are all alarm bells right now. What frightened you so badly at the club, Sally?”

Her thumb and forefinger on one hand worry the fabric of her dress, rubbing it compulsively between them. She glares, eyebrows drawn together. Without moving closer, I soften my stance, relaxing my shoulders and arms to look less threatening. The silence yawns, and I wait it out.

“Fine,” she spits. Her arms fall, and she sets balled fists on her hips. “I stripped to put myself through college and acting school. My stage name was Swan Sparkle. I’m not the only actress in Hollywood who did it, but women fight for every shred of respect, in this business as much as any other. I’m not saying I can’t have a career if people found out, but it’d definitely set me back. Or land me a bunch of casting couch auditions.” She walks to a dresser and fiddles with a hairbrush.

“So I’ve tried to keep it private, but whoever’s behind the harassment knows. Very few people knew my real name, and I looked…different. But I haven’t breathed a word about it in three years. So whoever’s behind this is from my past.”

“How many times have they contacted you?”

“Aside from the trailer and tonight? I don’t know, a few phone calls and some notes.”

“Do you get the sense they’re dangerous? Have they threatened your safety?”

“Nope, they just want money. So far, anyway. But I’m not going to be blackmailed. Everybody knows if you cave once, they come back. And I’m not going to let them keep me down. I’m good at my job, too, Quinn. And some asshole isn’t going to stop me from being successful.”

“You won’t pay, but are afraid of people finding out. There aren’t many options here, Sally. What’s your plan?” I cross my arms, anger rising again at going into this blind. “Are there any more surprises? I can help you, but not if you hide key facts.”

“Again, I didn’t ask for a bodyguard. I really wasn’t ready to talk about this with my boss and co-workers. And frankly, I don’t want to discuss it anymore tonight.” Her knitted eyebrows become a full-on scowl, and she stomps toward the door.

Like hell.

Sally reaches for the deadbolt, but I’m a step behind her and hold it closed with one hand. She whirls and then backs into the door when she sees how close I am. I press the advantage, lifting my other hand and flattening my palms against the door on either side of her head.

“This won’t go away on its own, Sally. You can’t out run it. You have got to deal with it,” I growl.

Her body is so tense she’s almost trembling, and unshed tears rim her lower lids. It’s time to play good cop.

I lower my head until my lips hang by her ear. In my best puppy-soothing voice, I say, “You didn’t ask for me, but now you’ve got me. Let’s take care of this. Let me help you. Let me in.”

Then the energy changes. Her breathing doesn’t calm but quickens instead. She pushes my jacket open so her breasts brush against my chest, and I can feel the rub of perked nipples. The trembles turn soft, her body suddenly pliant against me. Her tight, angry mouth relaxes open, and the sigh she exhales caresses my ear.

I lower a hand to her waist and seek out her eyes. They’re dark and hungry. Sweat and perfume mingle on her skin. I could get drunk on her smell. My first taste of her is a soft, lingering kiss on the side of her neck, just below her ear. She pushes my jacket off my shoulders, and I toss it aside without removing my mouth from her delicate throat.

My left hand moves to cup her breast. Her back arches into the touch, and my thumb rubs the fabric of the dress over her nipple. I grip the back of her head so my thumb tilts her chin up to my mouth. Her lips part as she mouths my name. Our foreheads touch, but our lips hover millimeters apart. We’re both straining to touch and holding ourselves back. Her hands claw at my shirt, pulling it out and slipping underneath to sear my skin.

Restraint flees, and I crush my mouth to hers. She meets my heat with flames, thrusting her tongue against mine. My hands seem so large on her neck, down her collarbone, over her bra-less breasts. I crush her to me, even as my fingers meet behind her upper back and find the zipper. I’ve seen and touched fragments of her, and I’m determined to have it all.

She’s fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, but I push her hands away. With a flick of my wrists, I pull her dress off her shoulders. It pools briefly at her waist and then falls to the floor. She steps out. It catches on the toe of her high heel as she kicks it away.

Greedy fingers reach for me, but I lay a palm on her shoulder. I want to just look at her. Bared to me except for those sexy heels and a black thong, she waits for my touch. Her eyes beg for it. The musky scent of her arousal shows me, beyond doubt, that this is real. Her shoulders are pinned to the wall, her pelvis thrust forward. An invitation. As I sink to my knees, my seeking mouth closes over one deep rose nipple. Her gritty moan resonates through me. My fingertips dig into the flesh of her hips and I flutter my tongue over her nipple. What will it take to earn something dirty from her?

I plant wet, sucking kisses down between her breasts, over her flat stomach, and at the apex of her mound through her black satin thong. My balls draw up, tight and ready, as I approach her sex. I grind my teeth against the desire to take her now. Against the door. Hard and fast. My hands are steady though, as I ease her thong down her long, lean thighs and past her calves. She steps out of these too, one foot at a time. With gentle pressure, I ease her feet apart. Then I bend to kiss the soft flesh inside her knee. I kiss upward this time, my hands curled around her thighs. My lips draw quick gasps when they touch. Almost at the pot of gold. I bring my hands around to gently part her flesh and dart my tongue out to touch her.

“Quinn,” she begs.

“Sally.”

And then I press my face to her and slide my tongue between her slick folds. Sally tastes like she smells, rich and earthy and sweet, like an overripe fruit. I drag my tongue up to her clit and swirl my tongue around it. I revel in her taste and smell and breathless sounds. I pause with a two fingers extended, teasing apart her inviting folds. Her panting slows.

After a moment, she opens her eyes and peers down at me. Carefully constructed Sally is gone. Her mask falls to reveal naked greed. Her stomach trembles.

“Don’t stop, Quinn, please.”

I reward her with a slow stroke of my tongue over her nub just as my fingers push inside her. And then I stop.

The doorknob rattles beneath her grip. The position of her legs makes it almost impossible for her to thrust herself against my fingers.

“Quinn?”

I flick my tongue out to touch her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me, Quinn.”

As she speaks, I move. She breathes out a gentle aah.

“I’m so close. I know you can taste it. My pussy is so wet for you. When are you going to fuck me properly, Quinn?”

Her head thumps against the door as I work her clit and thrust my fingers upward.

“Harder with your tongue…yes…and faster. Keep it right there, and don’t stop.”

I follow her directions, so turned on my cock throbs incessantly against my leg. I stretch my thumb around, two fingers still imbedded inside her. Her talk has devolved into noises, oh gods, and yeses, and her wetness spreads over my knuckles. I flatten my tongue over her clit again and set a steady rhythm. Muscles in her thighs jerk. Her hands grip my head, fingers rubbing against my shortly cropped hair.

Around my fingers, her pussy tightens. Her breathing quickens, her moans grow more incoherent. I like that she knows I want to hear them. When all of her tightens so her back arches off the door in a slow stretch, I curl my fingers and give her several long strokes as my tongue keeps pressure on her clit. Then her inner muscles clamp and spasm around my fingers as she comes with a deep shudder. Even more heat gushes over my hand. Her pleasure is muffled against the fist jammed against her mouth, but the sound is still sweet music.

I pull my fingers out of her and rub her own wetness over one nipple as I stand. Her eyes are heavy lidded as she pulls my head to hers. Instead of a kiss, she lays her lips alongside my ear.

“Now take off your clothes and fuck me, Quinn.”

Bare ass naked, she slinks to the bed, where she makes a show of bending over to peel the covers back.

“I love the view of your ass,” I groan. “I’m going to love it more with my cock filling you up.”

As I strip the rest of my clothes off, she removes one shoe at a time, her ass still toward me. She rises on her toes as I seize her from behind. My dick nestles between her ass cheeks, and I hold her against me with one hand wrapped low around her hips. Then I pause. Shit.

“I don’t—” I can barely speak. “I don’t have condoms with me.”

She laughs wickedly and wiggles her ass against me. “Check that bag on my dresser. I picked some up when we were out the other day. Just in case.”

“Bless you, woman.” I drop a kiss and a bite on her shoulder blade before going in search of the sacred item. I tear open the box and grab a pair of the foil squares, which I toss on the bedside table. Behind her, I pause to admire the curve of her ass, falling to her upper body as it presses against the bed. She waits for me with her arms spread wide, the position somehow submissive. I love that ass, but I want to see her gorgeous eyes on me. Without ceremony, I flip her around and hoist her up to my waist. Her legs lock around me, and for a moment I just revel in the sensations of her. The cling of her damp skin to mine. The smell of her sex and perfume on my face, in the air. The silky brush of her long, wavy hair over the back of my hand. The velvet softness of the inside of her mouth. The way she tastes like…something achingly familiar and new all at once.

Sally’s ass hits the surface of the raised, four-poster bed, and my mouth fixes on her breast. My teeth scrape lightly over the pebbly skin, and I blow over the wet peak. She reaches down to tug on my throbbing cock.

“You’re so big,” she whispers as if suddenly modesty is a thing.

And like that, I can’t wait anymore.

I grab a packet, tear it open, and hand her the condom. She rolls it over me, murmuring as she goes. Filthy things she wants me to do to her. How she loved having my dick in her mouth. This woman has my number. When the condom is on, she leans back and spreads her knees.

I move in front of her, standing at the junction of her thighs with my rock-hard dick nudging at her entrance. As I lower myself to her, she wraps her arms around my neck. I crush my mouth on hers, and then I push a few inches into her. Her tight sheath envelops me, and I groan her name. A rip tide of pleasure pulls me under. My hips rock into her. She pants, her breath hitching with every stroke that pushes me deeper inside. Her tight sheath envelops me, and I groan her name. A rip tide of pleasure pulls me under. My hips rock into her. My muscles shake as I hold myself back. Not every woman can handle all of me.

“You feel so good, Sally. Can you take more?”

“It’s because you’re so damn big. Fuck, yes, Quinn. Don’t stop.”

Her fingernails dig lightly into my back, and she rolls her hips toward me. The little motion spears pleasure through me. I rest my forehead on hers, fighting for control. It’s been so long, too long, but I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone so badly. Her breasts that fit perfectly in my hand, her strong runner’s body, the intensity in her dark eyes. She angles her head for a kiss, sucking my tongue into her mouth as she moves her hips again, and I break.

I clutch her hips to me as I pull out and slam in with long, deliberate strokes.

Her fingers sink deeper into the muscles of my back, and her gasps become a chant of expletives. I move one hand up, skimming her erect nipple, and press her backward onto the bed.

“I want to see your face when I make you come again,” I say roughly.

She arches her hips to me in response, and her hands move up to cup her breasts. I bite back a groan. She pinches her nipples lightly and her eyes flutter closed. I shift my hips to angle upward, and she cries out, almost a whimper.

“Yes. More. Harder. Please.”

Pressure builds in my balls. Her breasts, natural and gorgeous, bounce in her hands. I’m not going to last much longer. Her hips heave at me almost desperately. She has the look of a woman completely lost in pleasure. She’s not the skilled actress right now. Her need is too raw to fake. I feel it in her slick juices that perfume the room with lust.

Her ass flexes, and she grips me even tighter.

“Fuck.”

Sally draws her knees up and lets them fall aside. I wedge my thumb between us, pressing into her slit and coming back up to rub her slickness over her clit. Her hands fly down to twist in the sheets.

“Ah, you like that. Is this the right spot, Sally?”

She nudges my hand to the right, so my thumb strokes her clit right over that spot I found in the bar. I feather short, fast strokes over her clit while my hips pump faster, and then she comes apart with no warning. Heat blooms over my cock inside her, and her walls convulse around me. Her mouth falls open in a silent yell, her back arches, and shudders rip through her. The ecstasy on her face is everything I hope. A complete loss of control. I ride her through her climax, and then truly let go.

I plant my feet and go at her with jackhammer speed, and as her last spasms fade, I bury myself in her with a final push and allow myself to explode.