“Tell me you want this,” Glen rasps, looking up at me from between my legs. His ruffled hair brushes against my thighs. I close my eyes, trying to tamp down the painful throbbing deep inside me. Yes, I want this. I want this so much, I’m kind of amazed.
I don’t usually like sex. I’ve never had a serious boyfriend. I’ve tried one-night-stands a couple of times, but I always ended up feeling empty and sad. Having sex with a stranger doesn’t make me feel good, it just makes me feel vulnerable. And I don’t like feeling vulnerable. Ever.
But now, Glen is looking up at me, his grey eyes soft, his cheeks flushing with desire. His thumb strokes my hip tenderly, and my belly flips.
I’m used to people making up stories about me in their head. They see me act in a movie, or they see a story about me in a magazine, and they decide that they know me, despite never meeting me. But this man just told me I was essentially a symbol of happiness for him for years.
It’s without a doubt the weirdest, sweetest way anybody has ever objectified me.
“Gather some context clues,” I whisper, bucking my hips closer to his face. His eyes drop shut, and he pushes forward, nuzzling the bottom of my stomach through my t-shirt. The pang of desire that lashes through me almost makes me cry out. I can’t believe this is finally happening.
“Tell me,” he growls into the cotton, and I swear I can feel his low rumble vibrate through my skin, touching deep inside of me. “Please.”
“I want you, Glen. Please. Please, please.”
He grins to himself and dives in, licking a hot line over the thin fabric of my underwear. It’s all I can do not to howl. I instinctively shove my thighs together, but he wraps a strong hand around each of my knees and firmly pulls them apart, pushing his face closer between my legs. I can feel his hot breath steaming against me as he takes another long, leisurely lick, running his tongue down the line of my thong.
“Take it off,” I gasp, trembling. He looks up at me, his eyes burning with intensity, then hooks a thick finger under the wispy fabric. He tugs so hard that the fabric tightens against me, creating a delicious pressure. I rock my hips, starting to grind against the thin lace. He tugs harder, and harder, and I cry out as the thong finally snaps clean off me. Glen pushes it away, then scoots down the bed and very carefully parts my labia with his rough thumbs, studying me so intently that I squirm. He glances up at me one more time, silver lashes flickering—then burrows his face in my pussy.
I half levitate off the bed. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I’ve never had someone eat me out like this. Like they’re starving for it. Glen licks me roughly, his tongue sliding up and down my lips like he’s mapping me out, working out what I like. Then he does it all again, harder, licking and nibbling and breathing hot air all over me until I’m a total mess.
“Oh.” Is all I can say. My voice is so breathless I can barely recognise it. “Oh, oh, God—” My eyes close. My hips start to jerk and jump, and he tightens his grip on me, panting, groaning, trying desperately to burrow closer.
It barely takes a minute before I feel my stomach tightening. I gasp for breath, reaching down to wrap my hands in his hair and tug him further into me. He groans, sliding his tongue inside me. I feel my clit jump against his mouth and grind down, trying desperately to rub at the ache. He shudders, then gets his lips around the little nub and sucks, hard.
I fist my hand in his hair and just fall apart, tightening my thighs around his neck. My orgasm arcs through me like a rainbow, and through it all, he keeps licking me, steady and strong.
Eventually, the shockwaves die away, and I’m left gasping at the ceiling as it comes back into focus. I nudge at Glen’s head, trying to push it away, but Glen just doesn’t stop. He’s still sucking at me, drinking up my arousal like a man dying of thirst. I start to tremble as I feel another wave of pleasure rise slowly up in me. Holy shit. I’ve never come twice in a row before. It doesn’t seem possible, but the pressure of another release is there, deep in my belly, taunting me. I squirm against Glen’s chin. “Glen, I can’t—”
He rumbles disapprovingly between my legs, and the vibration of his mouth against me sends sparks flying through my veins. I let my head drop backwards as I start to gasp hard, my lungs too tight to take in enough air. More. I need more. I grab at his head, grinding against his face. I’m not even thinking. My brain has slipped into some sort of haze. I rub myself desperately into him, helplessly trying to get the friction I need. I’m so close, I can practically taste it.
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “Please, oh, oh God, Glen—”
Glen slides his hand up and grips my thigh hard, his trimmed fingernails biting into my skin. I close my eyes, bite my lip, grind down on his face one last time—
And suddenly, I’m flying. My hands fly out, clawing at my wooden headboard as my climax roars through me, practically obliterating me. My mind goes black and empty, wave after wave of pleasure rolling over me, so hard and fast I can’t even breathe right. I practically gargle, my eyes widening as the feelings rush through me, sending every muscle in my body trembling.
Glen licks me gently through it, not stopping until my hips start to buck from oversensitivity. I grab his head and push it away, panting. “What the—”
He laughs, low and happy-sounding. “It’s been a while since I’ve done that. Glad I didn’t screw it up.”
“Screw it up?!” I gasp. “You’ve ruined me for life!”
His laugh gets even louder. I pull him up next to me and slide my hand greedily down his muscled chest, brushing over the scars on his biceps. Down, down, following the heavy lines of his abs, combing through the brown curls of chest hair to the waistband of his boxers. He grits his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to. Please.”
He groans, relaxing and letting me slip off his underwear. The sight of his cock makes my head spin. It’s thick and swollen. I let my fingers trail down his belly towards it, tickling into his pubic hair, and he hisses, running a hand over his face. Fighting the urge to laugh, I slip my hand under his heavy balls, cupping them firmly. The shudder that runs through him wracks his whole body. I feel an answering shudder deep in my stomach. Slowly, I wrap my hand around his length and start to stroke, so lightly it probably feels ticklish. His eyes fall closed.
“Too much?” I ask innocently.
“Not enough,” he grits out, flinching. I watch in fascination as the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex. “Please, Briar, just do something, lass, you’re killing me here—”
“Mm.” Keeping my touch very, very light, I twist my hand around his base, my fingers barely snagging the skin. He chokes, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Briar—”
“How do you like it?” I ask, speeding up my hand. “Faster?”
“No. Just… tighter, for God’s sake—”
I bend and press a kiss to his tip, and he shouts, fisting a hand in my hair. “Mother of—!” He spasms hard against my mouth, and I smile, pulling back.
“Jesus.” He mutters, “You’re terrible.”
“Did you expect anything different? I am Britain’s Biggest Bitch.”
“No,” he grinds out. I take him in hand again, a little firmer this time, and rub my thumb just under his base. He likes that, jumping between my fingers as his thighs clench.
This is something else I’ve never really enjoyed. Getting a guy off. But now, seeing the colour rise in Glen’s cheeks, the sudden, uncontrolled jerks of his muscles as I touch him, I finally get the appeal. Watching him get more and more turned on as I explore him is so hot I can feel myself getting wet again. I squirm on the sheets. His eyes flash as he notices, and he grabs me by the hips, dragging me onto his thigh. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he groans as I start rocking on him, riding his leg in rhythm with my strokes. He dips his head, his soft hair tickling my cheek, and nips the side of my throat. Electricity wires through me. I tighten my fist, moving faster and harder. For a few minutes, we’re quiet, the only sound in the room the softly shifting sheets, and the low rumble starting up in Glen’s chest. It feels like a spring is pulling tighter and tighter inside of me.
“God.” I close my eyes. “God, I’m so close, I—”
“I know,” he rasps. Of course he knows. He can feel me twitching and throbbing against his bare skin. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, my wetness streaking stickily over his thigh. I moan, rubbing against him as I tighten my grip, twisting my hand in a corkscrew motion that makes him start to groan over and over. I feel his heart hammering in his chest as he pants for air.
“I’m almost—” he roughs out, and I nod frantically, reaching down to cup his balls.
He shakes his head. “Wait.” He reaches over me to the nightstand, yanking out a handful of tissues.
I give his balls one last soft squeeze, and he loses it. He drops his head to my shoulder and lets out a strangled shout, every muscle in his body tensing and shaking as he explodes into his hand.
I’m not far behind. When it hits me, my climax streams through me like a sunbeam breaking through a cloud. My eyes flutter closed. I shiver and cling to Glen’s shoulders, muffling my tiny moans and soft sighs into the curve of his neck. If my first two releases were explosive, this one is slow and delicious, almost dreamy, slipping through my veins like hot syrup.
I eventually quieten, slowly opening my eyes. My whole body is humming and warm and marshmallow soft.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Glen pants. I can see his pulse jumping in his neck.
“I try.” I flop against his front, patting the handful of tissues in his hand. “Good thinking,” I mumble. “Depressing, but probably a good idea.” I mean, if I can’t handle lotion, I guess having a man come on my leg might freak me out.
That thought pisses me off. Fuck X for getting in the way of my sex life. I will be taking this up with my therapist immediately.
I can imagine the conversation already. Please fix me so my sexy Scottish bodyguard can come on my tits. The thought is so ridiculous that I laugh, giddy from endorphins.
Glen disposes of the tissues and smiles against my mouth. “Well?” He asks.
“Well, what?”
“Did me staying in your bed work? Do you feel better?”
I snort, kissing his bottom lip. “Very effective. I may have to move you in here permanently.”
He nuzzles my cheek. “This is not at all how I imagined this morning would go.”
“Me neither. But I’m pretty happy about it.” I pet his chest. I really do feel so much better. Maybe all I needed was a good night’s sleep. Maybe finally opening up to the guys helped ease up my anxiety. Or maybe Glen’s dick has magic healing properties. Whatever the reason, I’m pleased.
“Thank you,” I mumble, twisting a curl around my finger. “For staying with me.”
“Any time, lass.”
There’s a sudden footstep in the corridor outside, and I hear Matt’s voice, calm and clear, as he argues with someone on the phone.
I cringe. “Jesus. Did he hear all of that?”
Glen just chuckles, pulling me into his chest. “Don’t worry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to my hair. “He’s got much more important things on his mind.”
“Like what?”
“We got the premiere details from your studio last night. Matt’s having kittens, trying to work out how to get you in and out of America without getting shot.”
I groan. “He’s going to lock me in my hotel room, isn’t he? Booby-trap the corridor and interrogate all the maids?”
Glen smirks. “You think he’s overprotective now? You’ve seen nothing yet.”
