“All right, honey. Don’t panic. It’s okay. I’ll do what you’re comfortable with.”
Sean felt his shoulders ease as he focused on the images dancing behind the blindfold…
* * * *
Soft auburn hair spread on a white pillow case. “Hey, baby, I’ve been waiting for you. Come to bed.” A soft giggle tickles his ear. “Come on, silly, I want you to kiss me. Did you turn off the lights?”
“Yes. Lights off, coffeemaker set, and doors locked.”
The sheets are cool as his tired body slides into bed. Their bed. “I missed you today,” she says as she glides her arm over his chest, using her tiny fingertips to explore his nipple. She giggles again. “You like when I do that, don’t you?”
He rolls over and pulls her soft body against his own. He wore his underwear to bed because it had been a long day at the office. She’d been late getting home from a shoot. They were tired. Her little fingers continue to tease the hard nub, making him want to itch where she was playing. “You know I do.”
She wears one of his T-shirts to bed. He loves when she does that. “I want to feel you.” He tilts his hips so she can slide her hand into his underwear. “I love your cock.”
He smiles because that’s what he always does when she teases him. “It loves you.”
Her hand feels like a hot vise as it strokes his hard cock. He hasn’t taken a shower. She doesn’t care. She never does. The pleasure is about feeling him in her hot little hand. She loves how big he is. He knows because she tells him over and over. “I love how it gets so thick in my hand. It makes me so wet.”
He knows if he slides his hand into her pretty white panties, her shaved pussy will be dripping for him. He tries to reach down, but she shakes her head, telling him no. “I want to touch you, baby,” he says.
“No, just lie back. Let me stroke you. Give me this, Sean. Give me your big cock.”
“Goddamn, baby. Harder, stroke it harder.”
Her hand moves faster, forcing his balls to tuck up into his body. He’s going to give her what she wants. His fists clench, wanting to reach for his woman. With each tug, his hips thrust to meet the tight grip of her hand. “Come for me, Sean,” she pleads. “I want you to come for me…”
* * * *
“God, Abigail! Yes, God, you feel so fucking good. Baby girl, don’t stop. Fuck!” Sean felt his spine tighten, springing his hips forward. “Abigail!” He came into the hand pumping his shaft. A hard gasp resonated in his ear. Abigail! “Get this fucking blindfold off me. Now.”
The light blasted his eyes, forcing him to blink. Soft auburn hair came into focus. A yelp shifted his glance down. It was Penelope. Oh God.
“C-Carl, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just…um, just wondering if you had a minute after the shoot. I need to see you before you leave today.”
How long had she been standing there? He looked down at Camilla, who’d grabbed a towel and started wiping her hands. Stacy, the woman who’d set up the scene, was unlocking the handcuffs. The moment the metal clicked open, his hands sprang to hide his dick from Abigail. He didn’t want her to see him like this. The damage was done. Abigail had obviously watched him come with Camilla’s experienced hands. The expression on her pretty face gave him no fucking clue as to what was going through her head.
“Hi, Camilla,” Abigail said. “I-I hope I didn’t mess up the scene.”
Carl fingered the fat cigar hanging from the side of his mouth. “No worries, boss lady,” he said in his bellowing voice. “We got the shots we needed. Sean’s a great performer. However, Sean? Do you think you could do a solo real quick? You were mumbling something, and you yelled out Abigail’s name, so we need to do some splices to cut that stuff out.”
Sean wanted to sink through the fucking chair. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbled. He was damn sure his face wasn’t the only body part that was bloodred from embarrassment.
“I’m planning a get-together,” Abigail blurted out. “Well, Ron and I are planning it. Sean’s invited. There’s going to be s’mores and camping and volleyball.”
“That sounds great, boss lady, but we’re burning daylight here.” Carl went back to adjusting something on the camera.
“Oh yeah. Sure. Sorry. Come on, Penelope.”
The dog ran up to Sean’s chair. “Hey, girl.” He leaned over the side and gave her ear a good scratch. “What have you been up to?”
“She’s been living under the dining-room table,” Abigail said from above him.