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As if it wasn’t clear just how much she’s enjoying herself already, she looks me in the eye, and, cock still in her mouth, smiles. And then she slurps me down all the way. Until the head of my cock rams the back of her throat.
“Fuck, Harley,” I groan.
And then she does it again. And again, and again. I’m losing the last of my control now. I’ve never come this fast before, but there’s no choice anymore. Not the way she’s slurping me, all the way to the back of her throat, harder and faster and groaning a little herself from the enjoyment of it, until I can’t take it anymore and my orgasm bursts out of me and she slurps all that down, too.
Both of us sink onto the rock floor, her face tucked into the crook of my arm.
I hold her tightly, unthinkingly.
It feels goddamn good.
I smooth back her hair and listen to the waterfall, streaming the same as ever.
Before long, my lips are drawn back to hers, then her neck, her breast, then down, down over her navel, and lower, until they find the wettest place of all. I kiss and lap at her trembling thighs, light kisses, then harder kisses, with the slightest of teeth.
Goddamn is it hot. She’s groaning already.
Slowly, my kisses draw closer… and closer… and closer… until my finger slips inside her, and her whole body breaks into tiny spasms.
“Ooh…” she says, and it’s music to my ears.
I dip further into her wetness and begin pumping as I pick up my kissing, drawing closer to her clit, little by little.
Now she’s trembling and can’t stop as she groans, “Greyson.”
I fucking love the sound of my name on her horny lips.
My fingers pump her quickly and lightly, until my lips circle her clit. Her back arched, groan after groan rolls out of her.
I’m rock-hard myself. This is hot as fuck.
Once my lips land on her clit, my finger starts pumping faster than ever. Her groans grow louder and pick up pitch.
I’m lapping at her, swirling my tongue all over her, while my finger pumps her fast and hard and merciless. In and out, round and round. I kiss her clit, and lick it, and finger her pussy. Now she’s shaking harder than ever, groaning, “Greyson, Greyson, oh yes, yes, yes!” until she shrills “Uh!” and loses it, her whole body trembling into beautiful spasms.
But I’m not finished. Not yet.
I keep my finger pumping, my lips kissing, a bit softer, helping her ride the climax until she’s coming a second time—“Greyson, no, oh, yes! Oh, more!”—and then a third—“Fucking uh, that’s it!” Until she collapses in my arms.
As I hold her tight, no thoughts come. All there is, is the perfect feel of her body in my arms.
“Greyson,” she says urgently at some point.
And then I hear it, the calling voices:
“Greysonnn!”
“Harleyyyy!”
Fuck.
We scramble up, then for our clothes. As I fumble them on, my mind is reeling.
How the fucking fuck did I let things get this far, so close to the others? I’m supposed to be the producer, for Christ’s fucking sake! I’m supposed to be in charge. What kind of shithead leader goes off to fuck his cinematographer, leaving the rest of the crew to fend for themselves in an unfamiliar rainforest?
Not the kind I’d be proud to be.
Harley, now dressed, looks a bit ruffled but otherwise unflustered. Fixing me with a grin, she states, “You’re good.”
“You’re great,” I have to admit. “But—”
She nods. “I don’t want the others finding out about this either. No worries. We’re just having some fun.”
And with that, she goes to where she set down the camera, hefts it on her shoulder, and strides off in the direction of the voices.
What I can’t understand, as I watch her walk away, is why I don’t feel at all relieved by what she said.Chapter 10Harley
Of course it was Samantha who called the ‘urgent search party’ to find us. With the assumption that, naturally, I was the one who’d led poor Greyson into a near-death experience. I almost want to out and tell her that the only near-death experience we had was one without clothes, but I couldn’t do that to Greyson. Or myself.
I still haven’t figured out whether our affair getting out would be really bad for my career, or really, really bad for my career. Would directors and producers really scoff at working with a cinematographer who liked to have fun? Although that would not be the case at all. I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand with Greyson, just, every time I was around him, they did.
Anyway.
“You were getting a good shot,” Samantha says skeptically, glaring at me, then looking to Greyson, her glare softening immediately.
Clearly, she’s just jealous, and as much as I’d like to tell her to go shove it, we still have a long-ass time stuck out here together.
