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She wriggled lower in the comforter and watched as he approached the female lead. The woman was lying naked in a bed, having fake cried herself to sleep, and now Ethan was beside her, whispering filthy things into her ear. He spoke so quietly Sam strained to hear, but she didn’t dare turn the volume up any higher.
“I miss your tight pussy,” he said.
A shock went through Sam, surprising her. The deep rumble of his voice was intoxicating, and for a moment she imagined he was saying the words in her own ear.
“Mmm,” the woman replied, squirming wantonly in her sleep.
“Do you miss my hot, throbbing cock?”
“Oh.” Sam’s hand covered her mouth, and she stifled a nervous snicker. “Wow.”
“Yes. Yes.” Now the woman was touching herself, her too-long fake nails seeming like a dangerous thing to stick so close to her vagina.
Ethan watched with hungry eyes and stripped off his pants and underwear with a practiced precision.
“Oh,” Sam said, her eyes going wide and the tittering giggles fading on her lips. “Holy crap.”
Now she understood how a lean guy like Ethan had made it in the adult film world. She’d thought only big, muscled, beef-cake types were featured, but Ethan had a swimmer’s build—lithe and toned. And sweet mother of God he was hung.
Sam had slept with four guys—a number that made her borderline slutty in Edison Falls—but in her whole sexual career she had never seen anything like Ethan.
His cock was huge. It was intimidating.
And he was going to put it inside that poor girl.
Sam winced, opening one eye a crack, and gawked at the screen with half-horrified curiosity. How could it fit? He was easily eight inches, and while eight inches had never seemed like a lot to her in other scenarios, seeing it flushed and rigid and ready to penetrate someone was a different story.
Was this about to become a horror film?
Ethan’s fingers twined with those of the girl on screen, and he met her frantic rhythm, stroking her until the actress could no longer fake sleep. Her eyes rolled and her hips bucked, and though the screams and moans still sounded rehearsed, there was no way the girl was faking those involuntary responses.
He was really doing it for her.
“You want me to fuck you.” He didn’t ask her. Instead he commanded it, telling the woman what she wanted. Insisting she needed him.
And Sam’s own body responded, wetness pooling unexpectedly between her legs while s
he watched the screen with equal parts awe and uncertainty.
“Yes,” the woman said, and Sam had to agree. If she were in the same situation, she would have had a hard time thinking of a better word.
So she echoed the statement, “Yes.”
Ethan obliged them both.
He spooned the actress, his big hands fondling the tanned curve of each ass cheek as the camera went in for a daunting closeup. He spread the woman wide, and Sam had to wonder how much wax was required to make her look that hairless.
Thoughts of grooming went right out the window when he angled the head of his cock to her wet opening and stroked several times. Sam swallowed hard, her pulse throbbing in her ears.
Did she dare?
Oh, what the hell?
Undoing the sash on her robe, Sam slid her hand over her belly and tentatively brushed her soft flesh. She was scandalized with herself, but not enough to remove her hand or to turn off the television. She lowered the volume on the film and let herself imagine the scene differently.
In her version of events, Ethan hadn’t let her leave his suite. He’d been the commanding, dominant alpha male she was watching on screen, and he would have demanded she stay. She pictured what it would be like, yielding to the will of a man who knew what he wanted. Would he tell her how he liked it or let her figure it out for herself?
Her touch lost some of its hesitation. She began to explore herself in ways that were typically reserved for her most sex-starved nights at home, when she was alone in a hot bath with a nice red wine. This felt much dirtier, more forbidden.
