He licks me faster then, tonguing my clit before slipping fingers inside. My back arches, my fingers dig into his thick hair. He growls and murmurs something as he keeps going, sucking and licking me, and I’m blazing with desire and on the edge, dancing right along that incredible abyss, my brain on fire with him.

  This is what he does to me. It’s like there’s a switch deep in my core and only Baptist knows how to turn it on. I melt for him, turn into a soaking, simpering, moaning mess, and I can’t help but want him to drag me over that edge.

  I’m so past the point of no return it’s like I left my old life behind and now I’m Baptist’s, owned by him, kept like a beautiful pet in his bedroom, dripping and prepared for him, ready to be fucked and filled and dominated.

  He stands, licks his fingers clean, and kisses me. He pulls back and puts those same fingers into my mouth, mixing his spit and my juice on my tongue before he pulls my hair and licks my lips. He growls, loving it, and drags me to his couch.

  I drop to my knees and undress him. His clothes come off like liquid sliding from his muscular body and skin. He’s so hard and I take him in my hands, stroking him down on my knees in front of the couch. He purrs and pulls my hair, and I open my mouth, taking him deep into my mouth and moaning as I do it, but he drags me up and kneels me down sideways on the couch so he can reach my pussy and tease me while I take him into my throat.

  I moan as I suck his cock.

  “I love that sound,” he says and sighs with pleasure. “Your lips wrapped around my tip and your spit all along my shaft. I love when you moan as you suck me, nice and fast.”

  I groan and go deeper and his fingers do their delicious work, and I feel like I might explode by the time he drags me into his lap. I arch my back and for one delicious moment, he’s pressed against my entrance, waiting there, promising bliss and better, and his eyes lock on mine, burning with a passion I barely understand until I slide down his shaft and he fills me to the brim, his thick cock stretching me wide. I ride him faster and faster, sweat dripping down my back. He bites my lips and makes me suck his thumb before he reaches it down to tease my clit. I shudder and moan and might lose my mind if he doesn’t stop, but I know he’s not going to.

  “Look at me, Webb,” he says and I meet his eyes. “Just for tonight, if it’s only for tonight, you’re all mine. All of you.”

  “And tomorrow morning? Do we just walk away and pretend like this isn’t happening?”

  He pulls my hair and I gasp as he slaps my ass hard. Like he’s punishing me for bringing reality into our fantasy. “That’s up to you.”

  “How’s that fair?” He spanks me again and I grind onto his cock, working my hips. “How’s that my only decision, you bastard?”

  “Because you’re the fucking coward.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I moan as he smothers my mouth with his lips and turns me over. I gasp, down on all fours, and he takes me from behind, controlling and dominating, my face in a pillow. He fucks me rough and spanks me once, twice, three times, his strong hands gripping my flanks, reaching around to tease my breasts and clit, exploding my flesh and unable to stop.

  “Tell me I’m wrong. You’re the one afraid of this.” He leans over me, stroking my clit with his fingers as he buries his cock inside. His teeth sink into my shoulder and I shiver.

  “You said it too. Just one night.”

  “You’re right, but at least I’m brave enough to say it out loud.”

  “Bastard. You want me to say it? Then I’ll say it.” I push back, bucking against him, fucking him, taking his cock harder and faster and deeper, my brain exploding and my core clenching. “I want you to fuck me into oblivion and to never touch me again, you fucking prick. I want you to ruin me for everyone that comes after you. I want you to fuck me so hard I scream, and when I come, I want to lose my mind. Stop talking about tomorrow and fuck me, Baptist.”

  “That’s my girl,” he growls and slams into me, again and again, taking his rage out on my swollen pussy. “I love it when you quit pretending like you’re a good girl. You’re not, Webb. You’re as bad as they get. You’re a filthy fucking girl, taking my cock and moaning for more, and now I want to watch you come.” He pulls my hair hard. “Come for me, you dirty fucking girl.”

  “Yes,” I gasp, back arching as he rips into me. “Yes, fuck me, you asshole.”

  He keeps going, and going, and I explode onto his shaft in a lightning storm of release and pleasure. It’s unreal and impossible and god, yes, it feels so good it’s like a stampede down my spine. I finish in a quivering mess and have to pull forward, sliding him out. The sensation is too much and every inch of skin is electric as pins and needles course down my legs and arms.

  He kneels there staring at me, twitching and rock hard, stroking himself. He’s all muscle and power and intensity, watching with me with these burning dark eyes that want to swallow me whole.

  And I know he’ll do it. If I let him, he’ll do exactly what he’s saying—devour me.

  Destroy me.

  Which is why he can’t ever know.

  Because once he knows that I’m pregnant with his child, I’ll never be free.

  He’ll never let me work on this film. He’s too protective, too controlling. If I want to have a shot at making this Cowan project come to life, I can’t let him find out.

  It breaks my fucking heart.

  But then he dips two fingers between my legs and brings them back up to his lips. Tasting me with a smile.

  “Look at you,” he says softly. “Staring with me with those open lips. You think you’re done?”

  “Baptist.”

  “You’re not done.” He drags me by my hair back toward his cock and I swallow him deep into my throat. “You’re not close to done.” He fucks my mouth and I moan as I do it. “You’re nowhere near finished, Webb. The night’s not over yet.”

  Chapter 10

  Baptist

  Cowan’s signature is a looping scrawl. When he’s done, he shoves the stack of papers back at me with a disgusted look. “There’s mothing worse than paperwork.”

  I grin at him. Sometimes, I honestly can’t tell if this guy’s being serious. “Starvation? War? Genocide. That’s got to be worse. Genocide’s pretty bad.”

  “Paperwork causes all that.” He jabs a finger down onto the pitted and scratched desk of the public library. We’re sitting in Philadelphia’s main branch back in a quiet corner with only the drone of the air conditioning humming through the ductwork to break up the silence. Blair’s quietly watching and hasn’t said much since the night before, and not that I can blame her.

  Things are more than a little strained between us after that night of filthy debauchery. It’s hard to forget a thing like that happened.

  “Explain how paperwork causes genocide.”

  “Bureaucracy. Government obsession. Making people into numbers and figures. It all comes back to categorizing and otherizing, and paperwork’s at the heart of that particular nightmare. Read more Kafka, you buffoon.” Cowan leans back in his chair, studying us. Now I’m sure he doesn’t believe half the bullshit he spouts, but it’s fun to listen to him rant anyway. “The contracts are done. The lawyers are happy. You can drag me into court and make me cry in front of a judge if you so desire when I inevitably do something I’m not supposed to. That’s what you wanted, yes? Is it time to make the movie now?”

  “That’s entirely up to you.” I cut him a check for the first amount agreed on in the contract and slide it over.

  He takes it, folds it without looking, and shoves it into his pocket. I give that a fifty-fifty chance of actually getting cashed. Then again, it’s a lot of money. Cowan’s a lot of things, but he’s not stupid enough to leave cash on the table.

  “And what do you think, suit? I noticed you’ve been quiet.”

  Blair startles out of whatever she’s thinking about. Probably remembering when I came down her pretty throat and made her thank me for it after.

  “I’m just watching your performance, Cowan.”

  Cowan laughs. “Did you do what I asked?”

  “I did.” Her eyes get serious. “And I don’t want to talk about it again.”

  I frown, looking between them. I didn’t know they had a deal without me—and that sets me on edge. Cowan’s dangerous and I want to make sure he doesn’t put Blair in any more uncomfortable and potentially deadly situations. Knowing they’ve been talking behind my back doesn’t make me feel any better about having her in this deal.

  But there’s nothing I can do. I brought her in for a reason, and just because I fucked her—twice now—doesn’t mean I can fire her.

  Not that I’d want to.

  I like having her around. She’s clever and organized and has good taste. She works hard and I’m pretty sure I’d never have gotten this far without her.

  Cowan pretends like he feels nothing but disdain, but I think he secretly likes her.

  But now on top of all that, I want her around for a lot more than her work ethic.

  I want her for that look she gave me the night before when I was stroking myself and licking her juice from my fingers.

  That look of pure lust.

  Animal desire, devoid of anything else.

  Entirely willing.

  Fuck, that’s how she was. Willing. On her hands and knees, taking my cock while I fucked her pussy with my fingers, or her legs spread while I filled her over and over, or the sweat rolling down her back as she rode me faster and faster, moaning the whole time.

  My willing little Webb.

  “I sense tension at this table,” Cowan snaps, glaring between us. “I don’t like tension.”

  “Too fucking bad. The papers are signed now.” Blair stands up. “Are we done here?” She pointedly doesn’t look at me and I want to sigh. She’s basically begging Cowan to realize what’s going on between us.

  But the old director only squints at me and shakes his head like he’s choosing not to pursue this any further. “I have a task for you.”

  I shake my head. “Great. Another task. I just wrote you a check, that’s the extent of my job for today.”

  “Try again. I don’t have people yet, which means you’re my people. You will go fetch my star.”

  Blair stops fidgeting and stares at him. I glare at the wily little bastard.

  “You didn’t mention casting,” I say very slowly, struggling to keep my temper.

  “Yes, that is correct, I did not. Because my casting was finished months ago before I secured financing from you, and I will note that casting was not mentioned in the contract. You see, I am not so stupid.” He stands up and slides a plain white key card across the table, the sort of thing you’re given in a hotel. Knights Inn is scrawled in blue across the front. “He’s staying there, it’s not too far. Room 110.”

  “What’s his name? Who the hell is he?” I grab the card and glare at Cowan. He’s smiling smugly and knows full well that he’s a piece of shit for springing this on us right now.

  “His name is Rodrick Hodson, you wouldn’t have heard of him. I taught a few acting courses locally a few years back, total waste of my time and talent, but I met him during one of the workshops. Talented fellow, exceedingly talented. He wasn’t ready then, but he’s very ready now. He’s been through more than you can imagine, and it has honed him into a walking piece of art. You will bring him to the city for me.”

  “What’s he doing here working for you then if he’s so talented?” Blair asks and Cowan laughs.

  “You’ll see. Go fetch him for me, please. I have lodgings prepared at another hotel downtown.”

  “Can’t he get a fucking Uber?” I ask, anger growing. “We’re not a taxi service.”

  “No, he can’t. Now go fetch my actor.” Cowan winks at Blair and walks away, leaving me alone in silence with her.

  We’re surrounded by books. Nearby, an older woman reads, skipping quickly from page to page. It smells like binding glue and floor cleaner. I get to my feet, trying my best not to tremble with rage.

  But Blair only looks curious. She’s staring at the key card in my hand and gestures for it. I hand it over and she holds it up, squinting, before nodding to herself.

  “Come on. I know where this is.” She turns and walks off.

  I have to hurry to keep up. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me since we got up this morning.”

  “We didn’t get up. I woke up alone in my bed.”

  “That’s not how I remember it.”

  She glares at me. “What happened to just for tonight?”

  “You started acting weird, that’s what, and we never agreed we wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “I’m not acting weird.”

  “Webb. You haven’t said a word to me. You’re acting like I’m a black hole or something.”

  “That’s not true.”

  We step out the main doors and are about to descend the stairs when I grab her wrist. “Look at me.”

  She doesn’t. “Let me go.”

  “Webb. You want to move on? Stop acting like what we did last night was so fucking shameful. I enjoyed myself and I know damn well you did too.”

  She shivers and shakes her head. “We didn’t do anything last night. Now, let me go.”

  I hesitate, fingers gripping harder. I stare at her and take one long breath. “You think I’m going to forget you on all fours, your beautiful ass in the air, my cock down your throat? Stop pretending, Webb. We can be adults about this.”

  When she looks back at me, her eyes are burning and sharp, and it’s almost startling if I didn’t expect it.

  “Let me go.” I release her. She walks down the steps, putting distance between us. “Come on. We’ve got an actor to fetch.”

  I sigh and rub my face. Fucking hell. Maybe sleeping with her was a bad idea after all.

  But no, I won’t accept that.

  It felt too good to be wrong.

  * * *

  She’s quiet on the drive over. I keep up a steady stream of worthless small talk and she makes the requisite grunts and nods, and that’s about all. Not that I mind—I can talk for the two of us if she’s so determined to ice me out. The drive isn’t long though and soon we pull into the parking lot of a dumpy-looking motel on the edges of the northern suburbs built to resemble a castle, or at least it probably did twenty years ago, but now it’s falling apart and in need of serious repairs.

  “He’s this way,” she says heading over to the nearest stairs.

  “Been here before?”

  “No, but I can read the signs.” She points at a directory next to the steps.

  I laugh softly. “You know, Webb, if you didn’t look so goddamn good riding my cock, I might begin to think it was a mistake.”

  She grimaces, but says nothing.

  We reach the second floor, walk around the balcony, and reach room 110. It’s quiet inside and when I knock, nobody answers. She peeks at the windows, trying to see in past the blinds, but they’re closed tight.

  “Should we come back?” she asks, looking around awkwardly.

  I hold up the key. “We were given this for a reason.”

  “Last time we barged in somewhere Cowan sent us, some old lady nearly shotgunned us to death.”

  “We’ll announce ourselves this time.” I bang on the door harder. “Hey! Rodrick! Tony Cowan sent us, we’re coming in. Please don’t shoot me in the face.” I swipe the card, turn and handle, and push Blair gently out of the way as I open it up.

  I fully expect to get blasted in the chest but nothing happens.

  “That’s a good start,” Blair says quietly and I’m almost touched by the relief in her voice, like she cares whether I get murdered in cold blood.

  I step forward into the hotel room. The stench hits me in the face and I cover my mouth. It’s not overpowering, but it’s a noticeably stale, ugly smell, like body odor and old fast food. The lights are off and the place is dark, and it takes me a second to find a switch.

  It’s covered in trash. Cigarettes float in water glasses, empty bags from McDonald’s cover the bureaus and the floor, and beer bottles are scattered all over. For a second, I think it’s empty, until I spot the body lying in bed.

  He’s not moving. The sheets are wrapped around his skinny frame and he’s slumped to the side, his eyes closed.

  “Oh, shit,” Blair says, grabbing my wrist. “Is he dead?”

  “Stay here.” I step inside gingerly and Blair doesn’t listen. She follows, staying close at least. “Look.” I point at the nightstand where a used needle sits next to a long rubber tube, the sort of gear a junkie keeps nearby at all times.

  The body in the bed is definitely alive. He’s breathing, though shallow, and he looks completely zonked out. He’s wearing shorts and a tank top, his arm studded with track marks and tattoos. His eyes are sunken, his cheeks a mess of stubble, and I can almost see a handsome man beneath the strung-out wreck of a human he’s become.

  I stand there staring at him and curse.

  “Cowan,” I say through my teeth. “This has got to be a fucking joke.”

  “This is probably why he sent us,” Blair says, getting closer. I feel her body more acutely than I should and thoughts of the night before drift through my mind. “He’s too high to get himself to the hotel.”

  “What are we supposed to do with an addict for a lead?”

  “Cowan did say he wanted to make this as realistic as possible.”

  “Still.” I reach down and nudge the guy. “Hey, you. Wake up.”

  Nothing. No movement.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No, he’s breathing.” I shake him harder. “Asshole. Wake up.”

  The guy grumbles something and rolls onto his back. I shake him again, slap him a bit, and finally he starts to come to, groaning. He blinks at the light, wincing away from it, and slowly focuses on me.

  “Let me guess,” he says and his voice is surprisingly strong and melodic. It’s low and laced with tones, the sort of voice made to read books or to run a radio station. It’s strange, coming out of a sunken face like that. “Cowan sent you.”