Some of the tension went out of him. He moved away from the door, paused, and
went back, locking it.
My belly clenched when I heard the faint click. Thoroughly confused and
unnerved, I watched him warily as he headed toward the bed again, paused at the foot and then moved around to the side away from the bathroom door and the only source of light.
He paused beside the bed, staring at me.
He was really starting to unnerve me. “We did the shoot,” I said a little shakily.
He nodded jerkily. “Good. That’s good. How did it go?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I struggled a few moments and finally
produced the one thing that seemed of utmost importance. “They did come shots.”
He nodded again, but he didn’t move. Finally, he settled on the side of the bed.
Leaning toward the bedside table on that side, he set his viewer down.
“Are we on camera?” I whispered.
He lifted his head and glanced around the room. “Yeah.”
I thought that over. “Are we supposed to do a shoot?”
He sent me a strange look. Abruptly, his lips curled upward on one side. “Yeah.
Actually, I thought we should try out some positions I’ve thinking about.”
In the middle of the night?
I felt my belly flutter. “Ok.” I shifted over. “Should I move toward the end of the bed?”
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He lay down on his side facing me, one arm bent to support his head on his hand.
I stared at his face, trying to read his expression and began to notice darker
patches on his face that I couldn’t quite make out. He distracted me by lifting a hand and settling it on my waist. “You’re tense. I think we need to spend a little time warming up so you can relax.”
I swallowed a little convulsively, feeling my heart rev. I didn’t actually think I needed a lot of warm up, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn it down. “You didn’t get the lube. Should you put it under the pillow?”
“Good thought.” He rolled away, pulled the drawer out and scratched around and then shut the drawer and turned back. That time, he rolled toward me, settling an elbow on either side of me. I relaxed against the pillow behind me, staring up at him as he slowly lowered his head, angling it slightly as the tip of his nose met mine. Excitement flooded me when he touched his lips lightly to mine. I stilled, waiting, hoping for more.
He opened his mouth over mine, sucked lightly.
And then let out a hiss of breath and jerked away from me. “Shit! That fucking hurts!”
I stared at him blankly, trying to ignore the disappointment and hurt that went through me. “Your lip? What happened?”
He’d lifted a hand to it, sent me a quick look and then shrugged. “Hornet’s nest.”
“You got
stung
on the lip?” I gasped in shock. “My god, Gabe! Are you alright?”
He lowered his face again. “Fine,” he murmured against my lips, covering them
abruptly. That time he managed to thrust his tongue into my mouth for a few moments before he lifted his head again, uttering pained pants that I knew were pain and not arousal.
The kiss had aroused me, though. It was just enough to leave me wildly
disappointed when he stopped. Releasing a pent up breath, he began to nuzzle his face against mine, lightly. I was afraid to move. I could feel hard knots on his face and I wavered between pleasure at the feel of his face on mine and anxiety about the pain I knew he must feel. After a few moments, he levered himself up a little and pushed himself downward, lightly brushing his lips along my throat and making his way to my breasts. They hardened in anticipation. I felt my belly clench with hopefulness.
Heat scored my insides when he captured the peak of one, sucking on it. He
persevered long enough I began to feel my kegels clapping with happiness and then abruptly released me. Instead of moving to the other breast, he settled his forehead between my breasts—almost in a posture of defeat.
I stared down at the top of his head, waiting hopefully. He muttered something against me that I didn’t quite catch. Expelling a harsh breath, he sat up, grabbed the tube of lubricant and squeezed some into his palm.
I watched him avidly, relieved that it seemed I was at least going to get the dick.
He looked around when he’d finished, discovered he’d forgotten to bring the cloth they usually brought with them and then wiped his hand on the side of the bed.
He got on his hands and knees then and crawled over me. I moved my legs out of his way so that he could position himself, drawing my knees up on either side of his hips and planting my soles on the bed. He settled lower, aligned his body with mine and began pushing. Feeling myself slipping, I put arms over my head and braced my palms SNOW WHITE & THE SEVEN HUNKS Kimberly Zant 99
on the headboard.
No one was happier than I was when I felt penetration. He released a pent up
breath, grabbed my hips in a firm grip and began trying to drag me over his erection. It felt wonderful. I closed my eyes, savoring it.
He stopped, panting for breath. “Give me your hands.”
I opened my eyes and reached for him. He pulled up upright and then slipped an arm around my waist, lifting me as he sat back on his heels. I grasped his shoulders for balance and then slipped my arms around them as he drew me closer. He began jogging me, using my weight to help him stuff his monster dick inside of me. I burrowed my face against the side of his neck, breathing in his scent and feeling a sense of drunken bliss take hold of me.
* * * *
He paused again, tried to close his mind to the aching muscles and tightened his hold again, jogging her a little faster. Pleasure-pain-pleasure-pain. Same results, just a faster rate.
He was close to exploding though. He was going to make it if it killed him.
Shifting his hold, he bounced her up and down a little faster, ignoring the pain chant in his body and focusing on the pleasure.
Nicole began to pant and then to moan. He jogged faster. She began to jerk and shudder. Relief flooded him and a split second later his climax hit him hard enough to knock the breath out of him. He held his breath, grunting a little with each convulsion, basking in the relief that filled him when his body finally stopped seizing to expel his seed.
Panting until he’d caught his breath, he nuzzled his face against hers. Pain lanced through the haze of pleasure, though, and he gave up. Lowering her carefully to the bed again, he pulled out of her reluctantly and sprawled on the bed beside her face down.
His last thought before he passed out was that he’d only managed one when he’d
planned to fuck her until dawn. God damn it to hell!
He woke later feeling an odd mixture of satisfaction and the sense that someone had run over him with their car. The warm, naked body next to his roused him enough to pop his eyes open. When he did, he discovered the room was flooded with light—from outside.
“Shit!” he mouthed under his breath.
He stared down at Nicole’s sleeping face, torn between the desire to wake her up and fuck her again and the absolute certainty that he was going to have a fight on his hands if the others caught him sneaking out of her room. He weighed the situation and finally decided he couldn’t actually afford to start a war on the set even if he was inclined at the moment not to give a shit.
Moving away from Nicole carefully, he glanced around for his clothes,
remembered he’d only been wearing a towel and looked for that instead. He didn’t see it and couldn’t remember what he’d done with it. Dismissing it, he headed for the door, SNOW WHITE & THE SEVEN HUNKS Kimberly Zant 100
listened a moment, and then opened it, striding quickly down the hall to his room.
Glenda gave him a call just as he got out of the shower. He glanced at the screen on his cell phone and decided to ignore her. Shaving was a fucking ordeal, he
discovered. The swelling had subsided, but he had some nasty looking bruises. Good thing it had been dark in Nicole’s room, he thought ruefully. She might’ve screamed when she saw him.
His hand was still swollen, making it difficult to fist it around his razor, but he finally managed to shave with only a few nicks. Dabbing pieces of toilet paper on the nicks to stop the bleeding, he grabbed his deodorant and swabbed his pits, discovering bruises on his ribs.
No fucking wonder he’d had such a hard time the night before! He had fist sized bruises all the way to his lower belly.
He snorted in disgust, but was cheered by the thought that Basil probably looked and felt worse.
He was whistling as he left the bathroom and looked around for a fresh costume
to put on. He hated the fucking thing, but he couldn’t very well expect the others to wear theirs if he didn’t wear his.
At least Glenda hadn’t decided they should wear tights, he thought wryly.
She called again while he was still trying to adjust his balls.
“Yeah!” he snapped when he’d flipped the phone open.
“Gabe?”
He rolled his eyes. It was his fucking phone! Who else was she expecting.
“Yeah?”
She squealed. Wincing, he snatched the phone away from his ear. “What the
hell?”
“You aren’t going to believe the sales! They’re through the roof!”
Gabe felt his stomach go weightless. “Really?”
“I didn’t call you yesterday when we launched the site because I was afraid it was just curious traffic, you know? We’ve had almost three quarters of a million visitors already!”
Gabe looked around for a place to sit, feeling light-headed, and finally settled on the edge of the bed. “Translate that into money,” he said a little hoarsely.
She did, so fast he knew she’d been tallying it before she’d even called. He
whistled at the figure. “You’re sure? There’s no mistake?”
“No mistake. I think we’ve got a winner!”
Gabe laughed with a mixture of exhilaration and doubt. “My god! It’s going to take me a while to digest this.”
“I’ll let you go digest, then, while I count the money a few more times.”
SNOW WHITE & THE SEVEN HUNKS Kimberly Zant 101
Gabe’s first urge was to rush to Nicole’s room and share his triumph with her—
their triumph. He’d already paused by her door and grasped the doorknob when it dawned on him that she wasn’t the one he should be celebrating with. He felt his belly tighten at the realization, felt his exhilaration dip.
Releasing the doorknob, he headed downstairs and made coffee, mulling over
what Glenda had told him. He discovered he had mixed feelings—extremely mixed.
Relief was high. He’d poured more money into the project than he could really afford, had gambled big—actually everything—and if it hadn’t panned out …. Well, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about, or needed to, now.
He was excited about the money. They hadn’t actually made enough, yet, to
cover the expenses, but it was a good launch and seemed to indicate they’d do
considerably better than break even.
Of course, there was no guarantee of that. It could still be the merely curious hitting the site and if they gave it a poor critique the show could still end up being a flop.
He decided the other investors/cast members should at least be told that the
launch was successful and promising.
Better to tone down his own excitement, he thought, than to give rise to false
hopes this early.
It was hard to tamp the sense of triumph, though, until it hit him that those
numbers weren’t just numbers and they weren’t just dollar signs. They were people. He realized he hadn’t fully appreciated the fact that hundreds of thousands, hopefully millions, of people were going to be watching the Seven Hunks fuck Brandy and
Nicole—in painfully exquisite detail—and every position they could think up.
His sense of triumph hit a slump. His belly cramped. He didn’t particularly care that they’d be watching him. He thought for several moments he might throw up when it occurred to him that they were going to be staring avidly at the footage he’d shot of Nicole.
“God! Jesus Christ! Shit!”
Running a shaking hand over his face, he set his coffee cup down and leaned over the sink—just in case. A flash of hot then cold washed over him while he fought a round with his stomach. He finally managed to master it, but he discovered he felt a little weak and lightheaded from the battle. After splashing cold water over his face and then gulping down a couple of handfuls, he headed into the dining room and settled heavily in his chair, trying to dismiss the images flickering through his mind.
It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t fucking
memorized
them!
Settling his arms on the table top, he dropped his face into his hands and struggled to remember whether her face was visible. He realized he couldn’t remember to save his life—because he’d been entirely focused on the point of entry and watching cock glide in and out of her.
It was almost a comfort.
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Almost.
He thought it was likely all the men watching were going to be equally
mesmerized, but he didn’t fucking
want
them studying her pussy!
His
pussy! It pissed him off that he had to share her at all!