Page 17 of Her Hollywood Master (Master Me #6)

He grasped her hair in his fist and pulled her head back. “I’m going to fuck you for real under those covers, little girl,” he growled in a voice only she could hear.

Someone near them whooped.

“Get that on film,” Antonio ordered, pointing to one of the grips.

“Camera’s rolling,” the grip said.

He released her hair and her head snapped up. In a flash she leapt at him, her legs snapping around his waist, her hands on either side of his head. She used his ears to tug his head back and bent to kiss him, her tongue sweeping over the seam of his lips, licking inside.

He returned the kiss, walking forward until her back met a wall. Pinning her between his body and the plaster, he grasped her wrists and pinioned them over her head. He held her in place and lowered his head until his mouth found her breast. He bit and she cried out, a sexy, wanton sound.

The sound of running footsteps and whispers alerted him that all the cameras were on now, getting different angles of the same shot.

He buried his face in her cleavage, yanking down the neckline of the red dress far enough to reveal a white lacy bra.

He used his teeth on the lingerie. A camera moved in close and low.

He lowered her so he could get her clothes off and she lunged for him, tearing open his shirt with enough force to pop the buttons.

He ripped her dress off over her head.

She reached for his pants and came up holding his stage knife, the tip pointed at his throat. “On the bed,” she said.

The corner of his mouth twitched up as he backed slowly toward the bed. When his legs hit it, he caught her wrist and flipped her onto her back on the mattress. He was amazed it worked without rehearsal, but their connection was strong and clear, each one knew when to let the other lead.

He held the point of the knife to her jugular and she lifted her chin, offering her throat, yet also managing to look defiant.

He traced a line down her skin with the tip of the knife, dragging it until he reached her bra, which he slit in the middle.

He hadn’t been sure if the stage blade would be sharp enough, but the fabric split, springing open to reveal Marissa’s youthful breasts.

And he suddenly wished no one else could see them.

They were pure perfection, like the rest of her.

He tossed the knife onto the floor and took her nipples between his fingers, pinching and lifting them both until she arched and gasped. When he released them, she drew back her hand and slapped him. He pounced, gripping her throat with one hand as he attacked her with his mouth, biting her neck.

“Sorry,” she whispered, probably worrying whether he’d spank her for slapping him again.

He flicked his tongue in her ear.

She dug her fingernails into his back. “Condom,” she rasped.

Condom. Did she really believe he was going to have sex with her on the set? The idea made his cock even harder.

“Condom,” he repeated, making something out of it. He got up, patting his pants pockets for his wallet, which of course, was in his trailer.

Someone waved from behind the lights. He strode forward and accepted a condom from one of the grips.

He sensed every eye on him. They had to see his erection tenting his pants.

There was no time to think—the cameras were rolling.

He kicked off the trousers and climbed under the covers where Marissa had taken refuge.

She grabbed him the moment he knelt on the bed, throwing him to his back and straddling him.

Her panties were white satin and lace, the gusset moist where she’d rubbed her pussy against his cock.

She grabbed the condom from his fingers and ripped it open with her teeth.

Ducking under the covers, she scooted down, lowering his boxers and taking his length into her mouth.

He nearly shouted at the shock of it. In his periphery, arms waved frantically.

They wanted the covers off her head. Jesus.

The entire cast and crew were going to see her suck his cock.

He threw back one corner of the blankets, shielding the view of his member, but revealing the back of her head bobbing over him.

She could be pretending from their angle. Or so he hoped.

She slid the condom over his cock and tackled him, throwing her body on top of his. He immediately rolled so he landed on top, his cock straining between her thighs, the heat of her pussy tormenting him.

He gave her a savage kiss while she pulled her panties to the side and gave him access. He still hadn’t decided whether or not to actually do it when his cock made the decision for him, sliding in to her hot tunnel.

She arched, thrusting her pussy over his cock, taking him deeper than he thought possible.

He laced his fingers over the tops of hers, holding her hands down as he shoved in and out of her.

He bit her neck. He didn’t want to come with everyone watching—didn’t want to have to dispose of a used condom and confirm for the world that they’d had real sex on film.

But he wanted her to come. He wanted her to receive the pleasure she deserved.

He pulled out and rolled her to her belly, entering from behind as he grasped her hair and pulled her head back.

She lifted onto her forearms and hissed at the mixture of pain and pleasure, baring her teeth and looking over her shoulder like a feral cat.

“I’m going to make you come in front of all these people,” he growled in her ear.

She gave an audible cry of excitement.

He pounded into her harder, scooting the bed with each thrust, making Marissa’s breasts bob, the ropy muscles along her spine taut.

But he couldn’t think about her—not how unbearably beautiful she looked, nor how much he wanted to make her scream.

He needed to remember their audience, forget about his pleasure.

He shoved in deep and stayed, simulating his orgasm.

She arched and swallowed a cry, her muscles squeezing his cock, perfectly programmed to come when he did—the evolutionary necessity for reproduction. Neither of them made a sound as he held her upper body bowed, her head falling back, her whiskey-colored hair tumbling across her naked back.

When her muscles finished fluttering, he released her and they both flopped to the mattress with a sigh, as if they’d just completed a strenuous workout.

They held their position as the cameras moved in closer, one coming in from above to shoot straight down on them.

They lay there, breathing as one for a full seven seconds more until Antonio yelled, “cut” and the entire set erupted into cheers.