Authors: Mari Carr
she’d dreamed of for a very long time. What other naughty little dreams did she have swirling about in that delicious mind of hers?
While she was mindless, lost in the throes of her orgasm, he grasped the upper hand. He stood and
lifted her off the floor, carrying her to the bed. She didn’t fight him as her body shook in the aftermath of her pleasure. Placing her in the middle of the large mattress, he attached her wrists together above her head with a strap, but he left her legs unbound.
If he didn’t get inside her body soon, he felt as if he would explode into a million pieces. He rose from the bed and watched as she regained her wits. She pulled to check the tightness of the straps holding her captive to his bed and her gaze flew to his.
“You won’t break those restraints.” He slowly undressed, thrilled to see her watching him as if
spellbound, subdued, submitting. He removed his shirt and pushed down his pants and boxers in one
smooth move, her eyes following his every action.
“Like what you see?” he teased when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.
Her eyes flew back to his face. “Yes,” she whispered. “Very much. Please hurry, Ty.”
He fought to regain control of the moment. Damn her. She’d taken his ideas of domination and
submission and blown them out of the water. He’d lived his entire life with the dream of controlling a woman in the bedroom, and in one afternoon, Gwen had taken his preconceived notions of how this should work and twisted them into something new, something glorious. Life with this woman would never be
boring and as that thought crossed his mind, he realized that he would accept nothing short of a lifetime with her.
This really was their honeymoon.
He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a condom. Donning it, he crawled over
her body, thrilled when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him to her.
He placed his cock at the opening to her body and slid slowly into heaven. “I won’t be easy,” he
murmured against her cheek. “I want you too badly to go slow.”
“I know my safe word,” she said, but he knew without a doubt she wouldn’t use it.
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Pulling back, he slammed into her with all the force, all the power, all the desires she’d brought to a boil in his body over the course of the last hour. Over and over, he shoved into her, making demands it seemed only she could fulfill. She came twice around his cock, but he refused to give way, refused to stop.
When at last he felt he had to come or die, he gave in to his release as she cried out and joined him
again. He hovered over her, and as he climaxed, he was inundated by the realization that every dream in his life had just been fulfilled in her. A lifetime spent hiding behind the guise of a character of his own making simply drifted away, leaving him naked, uncovered, revealed. Gwen looked at him, her eyes sparkling with the same amazement he felt and he knew the truth. He’d just found home.
He collapsed on top of her, aware his weight was crushing her, but powerless to move. He buried his
face in her neck, afraid to let her see the tears hovering in his eyes. He breathed in her fresh, flowery scent and savored the softness of her skin. After several moments—once he’d composed himself—he shifted to
the side and released the straps at her wrists, dragging her arms down and lightly massaging her shoulders.
She turned her face to his and he leaned forward to kiss her. Caressed her lips with his.
“Quite a honeymoon,” she said after they broke away. The light in the room had gone dim as
afternoon had given way to evening and he wondered how long they’d lain there simply kissing.
“Quite a honeymoon,” he agreed with a contented grin.
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Chapter Five
Vignette Two: It’s Time
The week of their “honeymoon” passed far too quickly for Ty and he returned to the demands of his
job, resentful at being forced away from Gwen’s sweet body. Acting had been his life, his singular joy for over two decades, but as he watched the actors on the set recite their lines like they had mouths full of peanut butter, he wondered why the hell he bothered. He was guest-directing one of the hottest shows on television as a favor to a friend. One of the show’s gimmicks was inviting a different person in the business to direct each week.
He called “Cut!” and once again tried to explain to the two stars exactly what he’d already said
twenty-seven fucking times today. He worked hard to control his temper because part of him suspected the actors were trying to provoke him to anger. He was well-aware that while there were several cameras
pointed at the set, there was also one directed at him.
At the end of each show, the producers aired a montage of behind-the-scenes clips of the famous
director working with the cast. No doubt some asshole producer had decided it would improve ratings to show that infamous Ransome temper exploding. Ty refused to accommodate them, but as the scene
dragged on and on, each minute keeping him away from returning to Gwen, he found it hard to keep his
growing fury in check.
“Mr. Ransome,” the director’s assistant said. The annoying woman had shadowed him for three days,
offering coffee, food and advice almost every other minute.
“What?” he barked.
She widened her eyes as if afraid of him and he fought back a growl as he spotted the camera out of
the corner of his eye.
“I’m sorry, Paula. What do you need?” He watched her disappointment at his calm apology and he
realized she was also in on the scheme to provoke him to madness.
“There’s a woman here to see you. She insists that it’s very important.”
“Important?” he snapped, fed up with the constant interruptions. He wanted to be home in bed with
Gwen, not here surrounded by this fake, talentless group of morons. “We’re in the middle of a scene. A scene that would have been finished two hours ago if these two had bothered to learn their lines.” Fuck the cameras and fuck this show. If they wanted to see Ty Ransome in a rage, he’d give them their money’s
worth. Screw Bernie and his warnings to clean up his act.
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A figure moved behind Paula, distracting him, and he spotted Gwen, waving nervously from the edge
of the set. His anger dispersed in an instant.
“Everybody take ten,” he shouted to the cast and crew. He could almost detect the sighs of annoyance
as he walked away from them without giving them the money shot they were waiting for. Fuck. Was the
whole crew conspiring against him?
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said softly as he approached her. He gave her a quick buss on the
cheek, unwilling to subject her to the cameras and gossip that would surround her if word of their
relationship got out. He knew the tabloid onslaught would be unavoidable eventually, but he wanted to
spare her that for as long as possible.
“It’s time,” she whispered.
“Time?”
“I’m ovulating. We need to have sex. Now.”
His mind whirled at her words. Ovulating? Sex? Now? He started to question her until he remembered
the second story. “It’s Time” involved a young, married couple as they struggled to conceive. The sex life they’d enjoyed prior to their decision to make a baby had turned into a chore as the wife’s desire for a child began to rule the bedroom. Over the course of time, the husband started to resent the feeling of being treated like nothing more than a stud used for breeding.
“Gwen, I’m sort of in the middle of something right now.” Even as he spoke the words, he couldn’t
believe she’d actually appeared here expecting him to have sex with her in the middle of a busy set.
“You said you were committed to this, Ty. We agreed to do whatever it takes to make a baby. I need
you.” Her voice, though soft, was firm. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one could overhear
them and misinterpret her words.
“Gwen, I—”
“We have to hurry,” she said. He looked down at her body and he could see that she was certainly
being honest about the
needing him
bit. Her nipples were threatening to tear the thin material of her sundress and her face was flushed.
“Dammit, this really isn’t a good place or time. There are too many people. I know what you’re trying
to do, Gwen.” He grinned, hoping to dissuade her with charm. “But let’s face it, the honeymoon isn’t over yet.” He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “I’ve yet to claim that ass of yours. Let’s wait a couple of weeks before we tackle the next story.”
“
Now
, Ty,” she insisted, her voice louder, carrying. He watched several stagehands pause to look at them.
“You’re making a scene,” he hissed.
“It’s time,” she repeated.
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Mari Carr
Already at the end of his rope, he felt the last straw break. “Fine. You wanna play this fucking game
here, we’ll play it.” He gripped her arm tightly and directed her toward his trailer. He couldn’t mistake her quick intake of excited breath at his aggressive handling, and his traitorous cock sprang to life instantly.
Perfect, just what he needed. A bunch of cameras recording him dragging Gwen Preston to his trailer with a raging hard-on.
He pushed her quickly up the three steps, slamming the door closed behind them with more force than
he intended. “God dammit, Gwen. In case you’ve failed to notice, I’m working. There are a hundred people out there all waiting for me to fuck this up. Now really isn’t a good time for this.”
She glanced down at the front of his pants and smirked. An honest-to-God smirk. “Fuck.” To hell
with the cameras, to hell with keeping their relationship under wraps and to hell with her. “Turn around and bend over that table. Lift up your dress.”
If she wanted to be fucked, he’d accommodate her. He was too incensed for finesse, for grace. She
wanted a stud, she’d get one. He pulled a condom out of his wallet before shoving his pants down. She
watched with a satisfied smile before turning around and lifting her dress. He fought against the fresh round of arousal that attacked him when he realized she wasn’t wearing panties, her juices shining on the pale skin of her inner thighs. He took two steps forward and moved into place, thrust in without ceremony,
without pause. He pounded into her with rough, hard blows, angry at first, but as they continued, every emotion raging through him fled, all except the ones that mattered. Relief, calmness, peace. Her body met his blow for blow and as she came around him, his anger, his misery poured out of him in a hot, hard,
powerful release of come that he silently prayed the condom could hold.
He bent over her back, breathing raggedly as guilt suffused him. He’d used her hard and when he’d
entered her, it had been with anger. Something he’d never, ever done before. He was ashamed of himself and afraid of her response. This was the reaction he’d feared right from the beginning. He knew the stress of the job made him nastier than a bear with a thorn in his paw. He’d been so afraid of hurting her and now—Jesus—now, he’d used her hard, hurt her. How could she ever forgive him?
They’d made very little progress on the writing of the screenplay and as each day passed, he felt his
tension and anxiety grow. He’d yet to explain to Gwen the impact, the importance their joint project could have on his career. This week’s stint was just another example of how badly he wanted to break free of his stereotypical persona. He was tired of everyone watching and waiting for him to screw up. The success of
Evening Songs
could bring him stature, respect, elevate him to a higher level of performer. Hell, at this point, he’d just settle for being taken seriously as a professional.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse.
She pushed off the table and he unwillingly rose as his now-flaccid cock fell from her sweet body.
“Sorry?” she asked. “Why?”
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“I was angry, Gwen, and too rough. I shouldn’t have taken you like that. I should have waited, calmed
down.”
She reached up to cup his cheek in her soft hand. “I provoked you. It was my fault.”
He shook his head. “I was the one who suggested we act out the stories.”
She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I’ve missed you these past few days. The writing was easier
when you were there to bounce ideas around with.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Even then, we weren’t getting many words on the page.”
She blushed and he grinned. Regardless of their rather heated bedroom play, he could still provoke
that lovely flush on her cheeks with just a few naughty insinuations. She was a gift and he wondered how he’d ever lived without her.
“Are you sorry about starting this project? Do you think taking on the screenplay was a mistake?”
“No.” He cursed himself when she jumped at his too loud, too harsh response. “No,” he repeated
quietly. “I’m just impatient to see it written. I’m still convinced it will be an amazing movie.”
“Yeah, well, I must admit, I’m starting to believe you. In fact, I was sitting in your bedroom this
afternoon, trying to concentrate on the screenplay, trying to finish that scene we’d started over the
weekend, but all I could think about was how much I wanted you. No, God, not just want, but need. I
needed you. The feeling grew until I didn’t think I could bear it. I got out my vibrator and—”
He reached up and took her wrist in his hand roughly, and his body went hot with anger again. “You
used a toy? While I was at work?”
He’d laid down some ground rules for her after their first night together. Rules he warned her would
bear punishments if broken. One was she wouldn’t use her toys without him. Another was that she