30. 30
Annabelle
Now
I am so out of my element; I think to myself, as two makeup artists hurry to apply makeup to my face and body.
But when Hayes yelled, “Cut!” and the director stormed off, pissed, Hayes looked at me beseechingly, and I just caved.
When his apologetic steel-blue eyes found mine, my mouth formed the words “I’ll do it” before my brain could even compute what I was volunteering for.
Despite my moment of insanity, I don’t regret it.
Not when I saw the sudden swath of relief cross Hayes’ features.
Or when I remembered the sharp sting of jealousy I felt watching Hayes put his hands on a woman wearing nothing but skimpy lingerie, looking like she’d just stepped off the runway of a Victoria’s Secret fashion show.
As happy as he was when I volunteered, Hayes had some reservations about people seeing what was his. His words, not mine. I told him that his inner caveman was showing, but I liked it. I like that he’s protective of me.
After conferring with Charlotte and the director, they made a few changes.
Hayes requested a closed set to help me feel as comfortable as possible.
But let's be honest, that request was as much for him as it was for me. They also decided to focus the shots on Hayes’s face, keeping mine out of frame—only showing me from behind or in profile to obscure my features.
Since there’s no time to re-shoot the scenes at Tank’s Tavern, the bedroom shots will need to center on my body, not my face, to keep the illusion that it’s the same woman throughout the video.
Which works just fine for me. I prefer my anonymity.
The thought of what I’m about to do is dizzying. Terrifying, almost. But I can’t deny the thread of exhilaration that runs through my body, too. Of course, that might be jitters from the two espresso martinis I consumed while getting ready.
I stand on a dais clad in only panties, a bra, and pasties. The stylists brought the same lingerie Sloane wore in multiple sizes and found a set that fit me perfectly. Pale pink silk and lace, sheer enough to look nearly nude, but strategically designed to cover all the important bits.
As I study myself in the full-length mirror, I have to admit that I look pretty good.
When I walk onto the closed set a few minutes later and drop my robe, the hungry expression on Hayes’ face confirms my earlier judgment. Because Hayes doesn’t just look at me, he looks like he wants to devour me .
Colt approaches and tells me what to do, like he did with Sloane, but I stop him. “I think I’ve got it. I was paying attention when you were coaching Sloane.”
Not to mention, I lived this night firsthand. I don’t need to be told what to do.
Then the music starts, the cameras pan the room, moving around us.
I creep across the bed toward Hayes as he grabs my hand, pulling me to him. We stare into each other’s eyes as his hands roam freely over my body, caressing and squeezing me. We come close to kissing and moving against one another, but we don’t. Not yet anyway. That comes next.
“Good, good. Let the moment grow. Make us feel your need for one another,” Colt tells us. “Make your lust palpable to the viewer.”
I almost laugh when Colt says that, but then Hayes nuzzles my neck, his rough scruff deliciously scratchy against my skin, distracting me. I forget everything except how fantastic Hayes feels.
Then we do the whole thing over again, except this time Hayes sings the lyrics to the second and third verses of the song as we cavort around on the bed like a pair of horny teenagers.
A few minutes later, Colt yells, “Cut!” Glancing at us, he says, “Unless you need a break, stay here since we’re making up for lost time. We just need to adjust the lighting, and we’ll get right back to it.”
I nod, rolling off Hayes. I take up a position seated next to him on the bed, pulling the rumpled sheets over me. Hayes slings an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.
“Thank you,” Hayes whispers, so only I can hear him.
I smile. If he only knew how jealous I’d been watching him with Sloane, he wouldn’t be thanking me. He’d know he was doing me a favor by allowing me to replace her for this part of the video .
After learning about Kyle’s affair, I worried I might never trust a man to be faithful again.
But then Hayes bulldozed his way into my life—supporting me, bonding with my daughters, loving all three of us—and somehow, without even realizing it, I trusted him and his fidelity.
And tonight, watching how visibly uncomfortable he was around Sloane, only reinforced what I already knew: Hayes loves me. And I believe in our love.
The stylist comes up to us on the bed. She hands me a robe, which I take, but I shoot her a questioning glance when she doesn’t leave. Finally, she urges, “I need your bra now, Annabelle.”
“Oh! Oh.” I feel like an idiot. Now I understand why they had me apply the pasties over my nipples before putting on the bra. I thought it was just to ensure there weren’t any accidental nip slips while filming.
“Don’t worry, Yankee. The camera will only get you from the back.” Hayes tips up my chin, reassuring me, “If anything happens that you aren’t comfortable with, we’ll stop. Okay?”
“Okay.” Truth be told, I almost forget about the cameras because Hayes commands my attention. The molten smolder in his eyes. The heat of his touch on my skin. The muscles that ripple as he manhandles me.
I don’t even mind the extra eyes on us.
Hell, I think I might even like it a little. It adds to the excitement and the heady feelings building within me.
The lights go down, amping up the sexy vibe, as the few people left on set scamper off to the outer edges of the room, ready for filming to begin again.
The wardrobe stylist is back. This time, it’s to take the robe from me.
With an extra breath for bravery, I slide it from my shoulders and hand it to her.
Colt claps and issues his directions for the next scenes.
We start with me on top, the camera filming from behind me, like Hayes said they would.
This entire episode seems like it’s been a long game of foreplay.
By the time we’re allowed to kiss and touch each other in earnest, I am so wound up that I forget that what we’re doing is supposed to be fake, scripted and choreographed.
But it doesn’t feel fake between us. It never has.
Especially when Hayes flips us over and I feel his length hardening against the cradle of my thighs.
I smirk, grateful I’m not the only one affected by this.
We kiss, and I lose myself in him. His hand grips my hair tightly, pulling my head back as Hayes kisses me.
My fingers tremble as I glide my hands up his chest, helped by the slick oil.
My back arches when Hayes squeezes my ass before guiding my legs to wrap around his waist. He grinds against me.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning as he rubs his steel dick back and forth over my clit.
From the devilish gleam in his eyes, Hayes knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
He’s unraveling me, thread by thread, until I’m desperate. His mouth and hands are everywhere… everywhere but where I want them most.
We run through it several more times, and then just before dawn, Colt yells, “Cut!” for a final time.
The wardrobe and makeup personnel disperse, eager to slide into their own beds after working through the night. I stand alone in the motel room that was used as a dressing room. Dropping the robe, I stand in front of the full-length mirror in the pasties and panties and chuckle darkly .
While I look like I spent all night moaning in bed with a man, I’ve been left unsatisfied.
Tonight felt like one long edging session. As exhausted as I feel, I also feel needy. My blood runs hot, and the incessant throbbing between my legs is impossible to ignore.
I slip my fingers into my panties, head falling back.
I rub my clit in tight circles. With each swipe, I come closer to relief, imagining the dirty things I wanted Hayes to do to me while we were in that bed together.
I wanted him to spread my legs and kiss my pussy like he was kissing my mouth.
I wanted him to feast on me, licking me straight to a screaming orgasm.
My movements grow faster, harder, as I pretend it’s his hand bringing me pleasure.
Lost in the rhythm and the heat building inside me, I don’t hear the door open.
Not until it shuts—and the lock clicks.
My eyes fly open. I gasp, lifting my flushed face to meet Hayes’ heated gaze in the mirror. He strides up behind me, palming my breast before sliding his strong arm around my waist as he pulls me back against him.
He lowers his face to the curve of my neck, nuzzling as his hand glides down my abdomen. Against my skin, he murmurs, “I was going to ask if you were ready to leave… but I think you’d rather come. That right, baby?”
My breath hitches as I nod. “Please.”
“Look how beautiful you are, Annabelle,” he orders, bringing my attention back to the mirror in front of us.
“Look at the flush that spreads across your tits when you’re turned on.
” With a sudden motion, giving me no warning, he pulls off one pasty, freeing my nipple.
I gasp again at the shot of pain as it turns to pleasure when Hayes scrapes his thumb across my pebbled nipple before pinching it.
“Hell, my cock has never been so fucking hard as it has been for the last few hours.”
Then he slides his hand over mine, interlocking our fingers as we play with my clit. “Show me how you like it when I’m not around, baby.”
I’ve only masturbated in front of another person once before—the last time we were at Tank’s.
So, isn’t it a fitting, full-circle moment to do it again this morning?
The inferno in Hayes’ eyes fuels my desire to please him.
Leaving his hand to strum my clit, I slide two fingers into my drenched core, scissoring them.
My head rests against his shoulder while feelings of bliss crest within me.
As I pull my hand from my panties, Hayes grabs my wrist, licking up every drop of my arousal from my fingers. “Fucking scrumptious,” he growls.
Even through the denim confines of his jeans, I can feel his erection digging into my back.
His hand snakes down my body until he reaches the cleft of my thighs again.
He pulls my panties aside before running his fingers through my folds.
“This is how wet you got having all those people watch us make out?”
Shakily, I nod again, watching in the reflection as Hayes touches me, expertly rolling my clit between his fingers. When his fingers push inside me, stroking deep, my mouth drops open with a loud moan. It feels so much better when he touches me.
“You liked that, didn’t you? Having their eyes on us while my cock was grinding up against your dripping cunt.
You wanted me to rip those panties off and bury myself inside you.
Right there in front of everyone. Wanted them to see you take every inch of my cock like the filthy girl you are.
The thought of them watching you come apart, seeing you cream all over me. .. it turned you on, didn’t it?”
With my arousal gushing down his fingers, there's no reason to deny it, and his feverish whispered words drive me wild. My hips twitch as Hayes’ talented hand works its magic.
“I need more of you,” I stammer, sounding breathy and desperate.
Tired of fingers and hands, I want Hayes’ cock inside me. Now.
“I do, too,” his raspy voice teetering on the edge of losing control. He walks us forward a few steps and unsnaps his jeans, only pushing them down a few inches.
He pumps his fingers into me again, gathering my wetness, and then smears it across his dick as lubricant.
“Hands on the mirror, Yankee, and spread those pretty legs for me.”
As soon as my hands hit the cold glass of the mirror, Hayes rubs the head of his cock against my swollen clit. My head rolls to the side, eyes closed, enjoying the sensations. Then he notches his crown at my entrance, pushing in an inch before withdrawing.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he commands. My eyes snap open just as he impales me on his cock, and I let out a moan that would have made a porn star proud.
After hours of taunting, he feels like heaven when he plunges inside me, fierce and ferocious.
There’s nothing gentle about this. It’s fast and punishing as he fills me. And it feels fucking perfect.
Mesmerized, I watch in the mirror as Hayes sinks into me, each time pushing me forward, making my breasts jiggle and sway.
I see the tendons running down his neck pop as he gets closer and closer to losing control.
I feel how tightly his fingers grip my hips, his nails leaving little half-moon indentations on my skin.
And I hear the increasingly loud mewls that fall from my mouth, unbidden, as my body goes barreling toward the finish line. “Oh God, yes! Yes, Hayes, yes!”
I snap, coming so hard, groaning and writhing.
My inner walls pulsate, bearing down on Hayes and strangling his dick, as my whole body convulses in a pleasure so powerful that it’s almost agony.
It’s a level of satiated bliss that I never want to end because I can’t imagine anything feeling as satisfying as this does.
I feel Hayes swell within me as he thrusts, grinding into me one last time, shooting thick spurts of his cum inside me.
His gaze collides with mine in the mirror as he rides out the final aftershocks of his orgasm.
Chest heaving, he kisses up my spine, sending a shiver running through me.
Wrapping his arms around me, we stayed connected for a minute.
“Do you think anyone heard us?” I pant when Hayes pulls out of me.
With his cum sliding down my thighs, Hayes laughs, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Yankee, I know they did. You’re fucking hot, baby, but you sure as shit ain’t quiet.”