‘I’m certain I don’t know what you mean,’ I answer evenly. ‘People cry out all kinds of strange stuff when they climax. Most of it nonsense.’
‘Your actors don’t.’
‘What?’ I pull my head back to better examine him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I might’ve subscribed,’ he answers with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder.
‘Oh. Well. That’s.. . odd. You’re not exactly our demographic.’
‘Nah, odd would be asking if you’ve got any jobs going. What’s with the funny face?’
‘Max, my brother, asked exactly that.’ But also, the thought of me watching Flynn—directing Flynn—having sex with someone else is enough to make me feel... weird. There’s a tightness in my stomach that doesn’t feel very nice. But unaware of my internal reactions, Flynn carries on.
‘No way! Watching your brother fuck would make you never want to bone again—make you want to boil your eyeballsandchop off your ears.’
‘Something like that,’ I agree, curling a hand between the pillow and my head.
‘Do you know,’ he says, reaching out to slip my hair behind my ears, ‘the tips of your ears go pink when I say something filthy?’
Pulling the hair back in place, I hide the evidence. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what’s wrong with the actors in my films?’
‘They’re not big on talking.’
‘We’re not making talkie films.’
‘What are you making?’ he asks in a low, teasing tone.
‘Films where people fuck.’
‘I love it when you talk dirty.’
‘How’s this for dirty?’ I ask, breaking into the company mission statement in my best media-darling voice. ‘Fast Girl Media produces women and couple-centric erotica with an emphasis on seduction, romance, and sensuality.’
‘And fucking. There’s definitely an emphasis on fucking, no matter the spin.’
‘We provide a highly curated experience,’ I continue, not allowing him to put me off my stride, ‘from beautiful cinematographic sequences to sensual photographic stills. We also have a wide range of erotic literature for a different kind of stimulation.’
‘I’m all about the stimulation,’ he growls, the sudden husky timbre of his voice sending a shiver of anticipation across my skin.
‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t mean that to sound so excited, so breathless.
‘Does this not look serious to you?’ he responds, bringing my hand to his hardening length. ‘Come on, duchess,’ he growls, rolling me over to straddle him. ‘Come and stimulate yourself on my cock.’
One slow, rocking fuck, a joint effort to tidy up, and twoseparateshowers later, Flynn is sitting on my bed in nothing but his jeans, staring at me while slowly shaking his head.
‘Just stop.’ Through my dressing table mirror, I try not to smile back at him as I fasten the button at the front of my dress.
‘I didn’t say a word.’
‘You didn’t need to. Look, I’m going out and you have to go, too. Besides, my poor vagina is out of business for the foreseeable.’
‘Poor? Your vagina is rich and bounteous.’
‘Er, steady on,’ I warn, turning to face him to ensure he sees the full weight of my words. ‘My vagina is anything but generous.’ The latter comes out as a mutter as I turn back, a mutter I hope he can’t hear.
‘Maybe you’ve just been seeing the wrong kinds of blokes,’ Flynn replies with a self-satisfied air. ‘Anytime she, or you, need more than a helping hand, you know where to find me, yeah?’
‘You’re ridiculous!’ I cap my mascara, throwing it back into my makeup bag and turn to face him with a flounce.
