Brandon’s bathroom is a spacious, state-of-the-art retreat, and like the rest of the house, it offers dazzling views of the city. Today, I can even see as far as the Pacific Ocean. There’s an oversized whirlpool tub and a separate glass enclosed shower that’s virtually the size of a room. A dozen people could easily fit inside it.
“Zoey, are you ready?” asks Brandon as he turns on the shower. It’s one of those luxury hi-tech showers with a multitude of knobs. To my wide-eyed amazement, the water gushes from the ceiling like a waterfall. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The room steams up instantly.
“Take your shoes off.”
Kicking off my platforms, I’m having second thoughts. Anxiety is pulsing through my bloodstream and my stomach is twisting. But before I can change my mind, he takes me by my hand and leads me into the stall. The water pounds on us, soaking us quickly. In a couple breaths, we’re as wet as two drowned rats.
“This is kind of fun,” he laughs, shaking his dripping wet mop of ebony hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah,” I laugh back, drinking in the contours of his rippled muscles that strain against his drenched tee. I gleefully tilt back my head and rake my fingers through my hair. Droplets of water catch on my tongue. I’m reminded of being a little kid and running through the sprinklers with my clothes on. It was something naughty and fun.
“Okay, now let’s get serious. Do you remember your lines?”
I meet his glistening violet eyes. “Of course.”
“Good,” he says with a sexy lopsided smile. Without fair warning, he flips me around. His powerful arms circle my waist and draw me close to him. His hard body presses tight against mine. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest. My heart pitter-patters, and I’m glad for the forceful spray that washes out the sound.
“Now, remember. I’m Kurt Kussler and you’re my beloved wife Alisha. We’re insanely in love. Two kindred souls united by body and mind.”
I nod like a bobble-head doll. Words are stuck behind a big lump in my throat. I just hope I can say my lines.
“Ready? Here goes.”
I nod again. I’m wired up. Every nerve in my body is buzzing.
“Baby, did I ever tell you how sexy you are?” Brandon, I mean Kurt, breathes into my ear.
“No.” Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I try to remember this is just make-believe.
“Well, I’m telling it to you now, Mrs. Kussler.” He parts my wet hair and, then wrapping his arms around me again, he nuzzles my neck. I flinch in his brawny arms at the feeling of his soft lips touching down on my flesh. Tingles swarm me.
And then he gropes my big tits, circling my nipples with his thumbs. My buds instantly harden under my clingy wet tank and another rush of tingly sparks descends to my sex. It’s as if my tits and my pussy are connected by a power cord. Holy shit! He’s turned up the steam.
As called for by the script, I moan. But to be honest, I can’t help it. As he continues to nibble my neck and tweak my tits, my knees go weak. To my relief, an arm curls around my waist and holds me up. A trail of kisses travels down my spine, sending a shiver up it despite the heat. He lifts his other hand off my tit and cups the ample cheeks of my ass in his palm. He squeezes and caresses them.
“I love every part of you,” he breathes against my neck.
I’m so caught up in the scene I almost forget my line. “You’re everything to me, Kurt.”
He draws me closer to him, and to my shock, he slips the hand holding me up under the waistband of my skirt. His fingers slide down my abdomen until they’re cupped over the crotch of my drenched cotton undies, covering my pulsing pussy like a glove. Hissing, he leaves his hand there for a few heated breaths, and then begins to rub my clit until the sensitive bundle of nerves is a bubbling nub.
“Do you like this?”
Oh my God. Was this in the script? Am I supposed to say something? I’ll just ad lib. “Oh yes. Please don’t stop.” My voice is a breathy, desperate plea.
“Don’t worry, that’s not happening.” For real? He continues to rub my clit vigorously. “You’re so hot, baby.”
I’m on fire. And if he only knew how really wet I am. Soaked with lust and desire. My breathing grows harsh. I may either jump out of my skin or faint. My burning need to come is consuming me. Taking over every ounce of my being. To make matters worse, the hardness between his legs grazes my backside. Holy cow! He’s as aroused as I am! Are we acting or is this for real? The line is blurred in the haze of steam.
“I love you, Bra… um, uh Kurt.” Fuck. I almost flubbed my line.
“The same, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”
He flips me around so I’m facing him. His biceps flex as his deft hands grip my bare upper arms. I soak in his impassioned face, dripping with lust, his thick-lashed hooded eyes smoldering with desire. I brush away a wisp of his slick hair that’s fallen into his eye. I think the script called for that.
He tips up my chin with his thumb, his eyes never losing contact with mine. His head moves forward. Holy smoke! He’s going to kiss me! Maybe I missed that part in the script. My whole body quivers as his lips touch down on mine. Oh my God! It’s a veritable movie star kiss—deep, passionate, all-consuming. A kiss like none other. Thinking I may swoon, I moan again into his mouth and dig my fingernails into his hard biceps. He bites down on my lower lip, and then his tongue darts inside my parted mouth. It finds mine and we tango like we’ve danced this way forever. Whirling and swirling, my tongue follows his lead. I moan again—I’m not sure if that’s scripted, but I just can’t help it. Every muscle in my body is trembling with anticipation and desire. Without breaking the kiss, he draws me closer to him and starts grinding against me.
“Alisha, my love, let’s make a baby.”
The baby they will never see. Alisha, of course, doesn’t know this yet, and the pure emotional impact brings tears to my eyes. They mingle with the stinging needles of water, cascading over us while my character’s cherished husband and lover grinds harder and faster with urgency and zeal, rubbing against my aching clit. It’s all pretend, yet it feels so real. I can feel his swelling erection, straining against his soaked jeans and pulsating against me. It’s so hard, so hot, so ready to come. Clutching his shoulders, I fight the urge to slide a hand down to his fly and touch his extraordinary length. A bizarre thought crosses my mind—dry humping someone has never been this wet. I’m soaked through and through, so close to the edge. There’s a hot ball of fire between my legs the water can’t quench, and on his next thrust, I combust with a deafening scream of his name. I’m so enraptured, I don’t know if I’ve shouted out Kurt or Brandon, but who cares when his face contorts with pure ecstasy and he roars out, “Oh, baby.”
Fade to black. I free myself from him and lean against the all-glass shower. Barely able to stand on my trembling legs, I collapse into a squat. My pussy’s throbbing, my mind’s murky, and my heart’s working hard. Brandon joins me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. Like mine, his breathing is shallow. He looks as shell-shocked as I feel. In a cloud of steam, we sit silently side by side, our bent legs touching, until our breaths and heartbeats calm down. The shower’s still on, the forceful spray still grazing us. The sound of the pounding water replaces the drum of my pulse in my ears. Brandon finally breaks our long, stunned silence.
“Fuck. You’re a really good actress.”
“Thanks.” I don’t tell him I’ve had to be.
“Did you ever consider becoming one?”
I tell him I did and even took a few acting lessons. “But the truth is, there aren’t enough parts around for a girl like me so I decided to become a full-time masseuse.” I also don’t tell him that I took his assistant position with the remote hope of breaking into the biz.
Twisting, he sweeps away a wet wisp of hair that’s fallen into my eyes. “Well, I think you missed your calling.”
“Thanks.” My voice is a soft whisper.
“No, thank you. You really helped me. I’ve got the scene down now.”
“No prob. That’s part of my job.” I pause. “You were amazing.” Oh was he! My head is already set on instant replay.
He smiles. “I may need your help again. It’s been rough getting back into the swing of things.”
“Sure. Anytime.” I’m in love with Kurt Kussler, but I’m not supposed to fall for Brandon Taylor. That wasn’t in my job description. And besides, he can never be mine. He was just acting. Nothing was real. My heart grows heavy, soaked with reality.
After a successful fifteen year career with various New York publishing houses, and over 40 sexy contemporary romance novels published, N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips is now an Indie author who writes to her own expectations and that of her readers. She continues the tradition of hot men and strong women and plans to publish many more sizzling stories.
