“Tell me when it hurts.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” he said.
A pair of hands wrapped around him, tugging on each end of the handcuffs, tightening them. He felt another pair of hands slide up his back. He sucked in a breath. He could have acted. He could have pretended it didn’t feel great when Sutton Brenner touched him. But it did, it had and it probably always would. Even now, four months later, four months into their real relationship, everything with her was amazing, right down to the real ring he’d put on her finger last week. They weren’t fake fiancés anymore. They’d fallen fast into real like during that one week, and even faster into real love in the months that followed.
But she wasn’t acting in the film with him so she stepped back to take her post with the crew and watch the pivotal scene as the leading client had his way with her male escort. Somewhere, along with the crew too, was Janelle, the peeping tom. She was quite the voyeur, but then everyone had their peccadilloes.
Reeve and Sutton had theirs. They’d done plenty of wild things in their time together, but Reeve’s favorite and Sutton’s too was when he asked her to beg for it. She always did, and he always made sure she was rewarded.
Then they’d fall asleep together, and wake up together, and go to dinner and the movies and dog walks together, and every real second with her was as excellent as every pretend second had been.
Better, actually.
But for now, he put Sutton and their times out of his mind. He had a role to play. A job to do. He was an actor, and he was giving it his all as the camera started to roll.