Over-Exposed (Perspectives Book 2) Page 7

  “I don’t think he cared, really. He just thinks Psychology is bullshit.”

  “He must’ve been happy when you joined his firm.”

  “If he is, he’s never mentioned it,” she shrugged.

  “He sounds like a great guy. Sure hope I get to meet him someday.”

  Natalie laughed at his dry tone. Then she decided it was time to come clean. “Actually... if my dad is happy I’m a lawyer, he’s got you to thank.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Um, remember when I asked where you’d gotten the Carl Jung quote?”

  He absently fingered his ribs. “My tat? Yeah, why?”

  “You said you got it from a fan.”

  “Right.”

  “Yeah. That was me.”

  “What?”

  “I was a freshman at Emory, living in a dorm room wallpapered in Sam Danmore posters,” she began.

  He groaned like he knew what was coming.

  “When my roommate and I heard you were going to be signing autographs at an event downtown, we skipped classes to be there.”

  “Ah, shit. Nat...” He moved to her side of the couch.

  “I spent three hours making a collage, layering pictures around a copy of the quote I’d hung on my wall over one of your magazine covers. When I saw it in a Jung biography, it just seemed perfect for you.”

  “It is. But three hours. Jesus.” He took her hand and rubbed it between his own as she continued.

  “That was nothing compared to the nine hours we stood in line -- with intermittent showers. But it was worth it for the chance to give you the gift I’d made and to have my picture taken with you.”

  “Lemme guess,” he bit out, mouth tightening in anger. “I hardly looked you in the eye, I didn’t even glance at the collage, and I couldn’t be bothered to stand for a fucking picture. Am I close?”

  She nodded. “You autographed the collage and handed it back. I gave it to one of the fan-herders.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He hugged her. “I knew I was an asshole. Didn’t realize just how much of an asshole.”

  “I got over it,” she smiled and enjoyed the feel of him against her and the smell of his skin before they separated. “But first I burned all the posters and everything else that represented the frivolous airhead everyone said I was. Then I changed my major to Political Science and Pre-Law.”

  “How could anyone think you’re an airhead?”

  “They don’t anymore, but they used to.” She shrugged. “They were right.”

  “You were still a teenager for Chrissake. I hate that I hurt you.”

  “I’m going with the glass-half-full view that if things had gone differently and if I hadn’t changed majors, I’d probably be on my first-and-a-half divorce by now, broke and living with my parents.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that I was a punk back then. And I wish I could remember you, but of course I would’ve had to look at you to have any memory of you from that day,” he growled. Then he laced his fingers with hers and she forgot to breathe for a moment. “I do remember when I found your collage, though. I’d had a falling-out with one of the studios and was packing up my office. My assistant asked about an old box she found in a closet and at first, I told her to just dump it. But something sparkly was poking out the top, so I decided to go through it, first.”

  “That’s right. I went a little nuts with the glitter.”

  “I’m lucky you did, ‘cause it caught my eye.” He kissed her fingers and his warm lips heated her whole body. “I was having a rough time in those days. Taking bad advice, making worse choices. Everything was shit for me, and then I found your collage and saw all these pictures of myself as different characters pasted around the absolute perfect quote.”

  “‘The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are,’” she recited.

  “No idea what prompted my sudden interest in glitter that day, but it probably saved my life. You probably saved my life.”

  Yeah. That just happened.

  “Oh.” She bit her lip to hold back a badly-timed grin. “Now I wish I’d kept a picture of it. Do you still have that box of stuff?”

  “Nah, it’s long gone.”

  “Right. Of course you wouldn’t keep a bunch of junk all these years.”

  “But I had your collage framed, and it’s hung in my office ever since.”

  The grin escaped on a bubbly laugh. “Don’t people wonder why you’ve got a bunch of pictures of yourself hanging in your office?”

  “Did you forget what I do for a living?”

  “Yeah. Guess I did.”

  Between the phone call with his reps and Natalie’s revelation, the tension rolling off Sam was palpable. She was only too happy to see him work off some of that frustration when they went down to the gym that afternoon, sweating and grunting as he punished his body with heavy weights.

  He cracked his first smile of the day when Natalie asked, “About how long before you turn green and your clothes rip to shreds?”

  “Afraid you won’t like me when I’m angry?”

  “Just wanna be sure my phone’s charged when it happens.”

  That remark triggered the crease of a sinfully-deep dimple. She sped up the treadmill, jogging to cover her breathlessness.

  Sam grabbed a set of dumbbells and sat on the weight bench beside her. As his biceps bunched with his arm curls, he confided that he was tired of making mindless “popcorn” movies. “What I’d really love to do is...”

  “What?”

  He shrugged and dropped the weights. “Nah, forget it.”

  She gave him a flat look. “You do realize that only makes me more curious.”

  He rubbed a thumb across his lips in what appeared to be a nervous gesture. She must have misread it, though, because what could Sam Danmore have to be insecure about?

  “You’re gonna laugh, but I deserve that, anyway, so... I want to make smarter films. Important films. Actually, my dream project would be to direct a bio-pic about Carl Jung. Y’know, dig deep into his demons and all.”

  Natalie stared at him a moment. “You’re serious.”

  “You’re not laughing.” That seemed to surprise him.

  “Why would I? I think it’d be fascinating.”

  A boyish excitement came over him. “There’ve been other Jung projects over the years, of course, but I’ve always tried to find a fresh angle. And after reading The Red Book, I--”

  She stumbled and caught herself on the treadmill’s handrails. “Waitaminute. You know about The Red Book?”

  “Yeah. Soon as it came out, I played the ‘do you know who I am’ card and scored a first edition.”

  “That’s hard core.”

  “That’s me,” he grinned, but the boyishness was gone. His thick lashes lowered in that way that always made her wet when he was on a twenty-foot tall screen. Having the full blast fired at her from point-blank range was enough to necessitate a panty change.

  Natalie sprinted for a minute to work off the adrenaline rush of lust. It didn’t work. As she slowed back down to a jog, she was hyper-aware of the bounce of her breasts.

  “I hope you get to make your Jung movie someday. I’d love to see it.” Her nipples hardened as they rubbed against the fabric of her tank top. The flimsy built-in bra was all but worthless, providing little support and less coverage. But that’s why she’d worn it in the first place. She felt his eyes but didn’t dare meet them. “It must be frustrating. The people who should believe in you the most... don’t.”

  “Sounds like you know how that feels.”

  “What? No, I... Yeah, I guess I do. Shit.”

  She continued her low-speed jog, but watched in the mirror as Sam came up behind her and stepped onto the stationary side rails, strong legs straddling the moving belt of the treadmill. Every erogenous zone in her body perked up, yet somehow she kept her legs moving.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You know how I feel...” His voic
e was low, gravelly. He inched closer, careful not to take a heel to the groin. “I’ve been fucking dying to know how you feel.”

  “Sam.” She could barely get that much out before his big hands settled on her waist and skimmed up her ribcage. “Let me stop this thing.”

  “No.” His hands kept moving until she felt the warmth of his palms tease her nipples with each bouncing step. His eyes were full-black when they met hers in the mirror.

  “Jesus.” She kept up her pace, but gripped the handrails to avoid killing them both if she fell. She closed her eyes when he tugged down the neckline of her tank top, pushing her breasts up and exposing them to the chilly gym air.

  He pinched a nipple. “Open your eyes. I want you to see me touch you.”

  She did as she was told. She’d have done pretty much anything he asked at that point, just to keep his hands on her.

  The room felt overly bright as she watched herself maintain the slow jog while one tan hand cupped her breast and the other slid into her shorts. Reflecting back on this later, she would be thankful she’d worn loose, cut-off sweatpants rather than tight-fitting lycra.

  Warm fingers skimmed over her ass then slipped into her thong panties, sliding freely between the lips of her wet, swollen pussy. He groaned, “Oh fuck... God, you’re so-- no, don’t stop. Keep jogging.”

  She whimpered as two slick fingers slipped inside her, plunging deeper with every bouncing step she took. Just when she thought her legs would give out, Sam hit the button and the treadmill slowed to a halt. He tugged the drawstring and Natalie’s shorts fell to her feet. “The door. There’s no lock. Someone could come in.”

  His eyes flashed with mischief at that, but reason prevailed. Somewhat.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered, then grabbed a heavy dumbbell and set it against the door.

  Natalie risked a glance at her scrawny self in the mirror and saw damp tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail. Heavy eyes. Flushed cheeks. Exposed breasts heaving with every labored breath. Thighs pressed tightly together. Shorts around her ankles.

  Sam came back and knelt behind her. “This fucking body of yours... You’re so goddamn sexy.” Somehow, when he said it, it became true.

  Hooking his thumbs in the sides of her thong, he inched it down... trailing those world-famous lips along the same path, across one butt cheek, then the other... until he licked and sucked the sensitive skin behind each knee. Lifting her feet one at a time, he pulled the thong off with her shorts and tossed them.

  “Oh god,” she breathed.

  “Spread your legs for me, Nat. Stand on the rails.”

  The words made her lightheaded, and he nipped her bare ass with his teeth when she didn’t comply. He straightened and effortlessly kneed her legs apart, planting her feet where he wanted them.

  “Christ, you’re hot.” Meeting her eyes in the mirror, he palmed a breast and caught her nipple between his fingers. His tongue drew a warm, wet line along her jaw. Sliding his other hand down her back, he squeezed an ass cheek and continued south until he grazed her clit with his palm.

  This was a much different experience from the last time he’d touched her there.

  Natalie gasped out Sam’s name when he slid two fingers inside her. As her eyes closed, he gave her swollen clit a tight pinch. “Fuck!”

  “Eyes open. ‘Atta girl.” He began pumping his fingers hard and deep, hitting her just right. “Now show me how hot you look when you come.”

  “Oh fuck, Sam, Jesus, fuck!” With that, she came harder than she ever had, throbbing and dripping as she rode his hand.

  Chapter Twelve

  SAM HELD HER when her legs threatened to give out, lowering her gently until she sat. Still tingling from her world-rocking orgasm, Natalie reached for his prominent erection, but he stopped her hand.

  “That wasn’t about me. It was only for you.”

  She looked pointedly at the swollen bulge in his sweatpants. “Is that for me, too?”

  “No.” He handed her the tangled mess of her shorts and thong. “Let’s go back. Think you can walk?”

  Natalie wanted to smack the mischievous little grin off his face. As she fixed her clothes she saw that his hard-on wasn’t diminishing -- quite the opposite, in fact. So why didn’t he want her to relieve him of it? What the fuck? She knew he felt awful about their past, but--

  “You got me off because you felt sorry for me?”

  “I didn’t feel sorry. I was sorry. I am sorry.”

  Angry adrenaline surged through her veins and she stood, glaring up into dark, sexy eyes that were registering bewilderment. “You arrogant dick. Don’t ever touch me again.”

  She stomped to the door and tried to pick up the dumbbell that held it closed. Motherfucker! That thing was heavy! She felt him come up behind her and stepped aside, assuming he was going to move the weight and let her out.

  She assumed wrong.

  Sam grabbed her ponytail in a fist and used it to shove her face-first against the wall. Pressing his hardness to her behind, he growled in her ear, “I was being nice.” She felt him grind against her. “But you don’t want me to be nice, do you?”

  Natalie couldn’t speak. His words and her own breath echoed in her ear. He yanked her hair, demanding an answer. “Fuck you,” she panted. She was so turned-on, she imagined she could come again if he just pulled her hair a couple more times.

  “Maybe... since you asked so sweetly.” He bit her neck just hard enough to scare her a little. Then he yanked her shorts and thong back down to her feet. Holding her tight to the wall with a hand in the middle of her back, he slid the other hand between her thighs. “Fuck, baby... you’re fucking drenched again.”

  She pressed her behind against his hand, begging for more. Instead of the penetration she craved, he gave her one sharp smack on the ass. “God, Sam!”

  He grabbed her ponytail again, steered her across the room and pushed her back on the weight bench. Taking a few of the multicolored workout bands hanging nearby, he wrapped one around her wrists.

  She struggled, but he held her down easily. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you what you asked for.” He hooked the band under the bench, securing her hands over her head.

  “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Yeah, you did.” He bent each of her legs and bound her heels to her thighs and her thighs to the bench.

  This was too much. She was too open. Too exposed. She didn’t like this at all.

  Her pussy clenched, calling bullshit.

  Sam shoved her top up to her neck and raked glittering eyes over her tits. They were hypersensitive -- she swore she could feel his gaze touching her. Her nipples responded accordingly.

  The gorgeous bastard cocked a half-smile at her and walked slowly around the bench, looking at her from every angle. “Oh, Natalie... Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

  She had an idea. If she was half the respectable professional she purported to be, she would have been mortified to be seen this way. Instead, her heart sped up and she felt a rush of moisture between her legs when he asked the question.

  Sam trailed the backs of his knuckles across her breasts and pinched a nipple. Hard. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Did you really expect an answer?” Her belligerent response came out on a breathy gasp.

  He chuckled. “You’ve got a sassy mouth, counselor.” He pressed two fingers to her mouth and forced his way inside, then painted her lips with her own saliva. “Maybe I’ll put my cock in it. Would you like that?”

  Fuck yes, she would. “No.”

  He ran a hand over the succulent bulge in his sweatpants that loomed over her face. “I think you’re lying.”

  Her mouth watered. “Go to hell.”

  Her eyes followed as he moved to stand between her parted knees. She watched him hook his thumbs in his waistband and inch his pants down, slowly and gradually revealing sculpted lower abs... the deepest points of his V-cuts... the thick root of his cock e
merging from shadowy pubic hair... And then he pushed the pants out of the way and she saw all of him -- the ruddy shaft gripped tightly in his big fist; the flushed tip plump and ripe-looking.

  He waited for her to meet his eyes, then dropped his gaze to her own plump ripeness. She felt her arousal drip, pooling under her ass. Through the white noise of lust in her head, she heard him hiss, “Jesus Christ.” The hand on his dick tightened and his face looked pained for a moment. Then he circled back to her face and kissed her, forcing her mouth open with a tight grip on her jaw.

  She tried to pretend his hot tongue was an unwelcome invasion, but she wasn’t that good an actress. When Sam straightened and teased her mouth with his cock-head, she gave up the ruse, taking him in and sucking greedily.

  Sam pumped a couple times, then pulled out completely. He might have chuckled at Natalie’s whimper, but he was too far gone, himself. His beautiful lips were flushed and he had the devil in his eyes as he rasped, “Did I say you could have that, yet?” He bent and sucked one nipple hard enough to hurt, pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger. The tip of his cock deposited a wet kiss on her ribcage.

  Her hips rocked of their own accord, not even close to making useful contact with any part of Sam. He grinned at that. An evil, sexy grin. He trailed a lazy finger in a meandering path from her breasts, down her stomach, over her hip bone to her inner thigh. With his eyes on her pussy, she felt herself swell and ripen even more for him as he slowly swirled his fingertip through her wetness without so much as grazing her now-throbbing clit. Natalie’s pupils were so dilated, she had to squint to watch Sam slide that finger into his beautiful mouth and suck it clean.

  “Fuck...” she panted.

  “Yeah.” Then he kicked off his sweats and stripped off his shirt.

  Having seen him nearly-nude on film and TV dozens of times, Natalie should have been prepared. She wasn’t. His sun-bronzed skin was smooth and taut over lean-sculpted muscles. He was simply too perfect to be real.

  He quickly released her legs and gripped the backs of her knees, tugging her toward him. With her arms still bound above her head, her back arched, presenting her breasts to him like an offering. Leaning over, he licked and bit each nipple, then ducked to plant a whisper of a kiss on the very peak of her engorged clit.