The look on his face told me I’d done exactly the right thing. I felt like the queen of the world right now.
“Fucking hell, Otter. You have no idea how perfect you look.” He managed to shift his eyes up to mine. “You also have no fucking idea how much I wish you were here right now.”
“Where are you?” I knew the answer, I figured.
“Manchester. Are you in Norfolk?”
I cupped my breasts, then pinched at my nipples, toying with them with the pleasure of knowing exactly what it was doing to him. “I’m about an hour away. We’ve been filming at Chatsworth in Derbyshire.”
“Are you in a hotel?”
I nodded, still playing with my tits, now more for my benefit than his, feeling my own arousal building. “A pub, on the Chatsworth estate. We’ve booked the whole place out.”
“Can I get a car to see you?”
The question I wanted to ask was on the tip of my tongue –how can you do that? But of course he could. He was wealthy.
So he could, only one problem.
“I have a four-thirty wake-up call.” It was now midnight. “If you come over, I won’t get any sleep.”
His groan was pained. “Otter…”
“Are you hard?” I already knew the answer to that one.
“Like stone.”
“Let me see.” I was prepared for him to say no. I doubted he’d ever done this before, which would make two of us.
He pulled off his T-shirt, showing me that toned, sculpted chest. I bit my lips together, wishing upon every star that I didn’t have a four-thirty call. My body remembered the feel of my nipples against his chest, the roughness of the hair that was scattered there. I remembered how my tongue had traced the ridges of his abs.
I angled my iPad on my bed so more of me was in view, using a book and a cushion to prop it up. I was down to just my knickers, a smooth black pair that were seamless, perfect for wearing on set.
“I want to see more of you.” I knelt, pushing my fingers into my underwear. “Let me see.”
“Let me call you back.” He hung up without waiting for my response.
Less than half a minute later, my screen flickered with his name.
I pressed that button to answer with the same speed as a kid opening their first present on Christmas Day.
Ryan was standing in front of what I guessed was his computer screen, probably placed on a desk. He was naked and he was glorious; hard, honed muscles that gleamed under the light; his cock thick and erect, with his hand wrapped around it.
I wondered whether he could see me drooling.
“I don’t know if this pleasurable or just more torture.” For a milli-second, I didn’t know where to look. I’d never wished for more than one set of eyes before, but I did right now.
His smile was half-shy. “Wherever you want. I know I am.”
I’d never been self-conscious. I’d started acting on screen at the age of sixteen and I knew my worth from before that. I worked out, the gym was my friend and my sanity. I took yoga classes where I could, hot yoga if possible, and I didn’t overindulge. I owned my body, and I refused to ever feel self-conscious. If a man wanted to pass a negative comment about how I looked, he could fuck right off. I had no time for that.
Ryan wasn’t going to be passing any negative comments, that was more than obvious. He started to move his hand up and down his dick, his eyes on me all the time. Without realising it, my hand had slipped between my legs, my fingers sliding through my wetness to my clit.
“What are you thinking?” His lids had lowered, and I was sure I could see a drop of wetness at the tip of his cock.
“How I wish you were here.”
He nodded. “I wish I was there too. Wish my hand was where yours is.”
