Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

40. Willow

Chapter 40

Willow

“ H

ey, Heena, you might want to put on noise-canceling headphones or something,” I tell her as we walk through the doors of the penthouse.

“Oh God, Willow, you can’t seriously be thinking of having sex with Riley tonight. My poor, innocent ears!”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You won’t be exposed for long. We’ll be done within thirty minutes…well, on second thought, maybe give us an hour, just in case we decide to go for round two. But I’m exhausted, and I’m sure he is too, so probably just one round. As you know, we were up most of last night…” I trail off, smiling deviously at Heena.

“Yes, and I’m actively trying to block that out,” Heena interrupts me. “Because, in case you forgot, I was also staying here.”

“Oh please, you didn’t hear a thing. We were really quiet. But if you’re tired now and want to go to sleep, you could just crash in my parents’ room or in one of the guest bedrooms,” I suggest.

My room, along with Aspen’s and Maple’s, are all on the second floor, while my parents’ bedroom and a few spares are on the third. Heena also has h er own room here, but it shares a wall with mine on the second floor, so I’m guessing that’s out of the question for her tonight.

“I know. I slept in a guest room last night. You two aren’t as quiet as you think you are.”

I blush. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just giving you a hard time. You deserve a good orgasm as much as anyone. He’s delivering, right?”

“Like a UPS driver the week before Christmas.”

Heena gives me a funny look. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Will. I’ll be in one of the guest bedrooms if you need me,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “The one on the opposite end of the penthouse from your room,” she adds over her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Heena,” I call after her.

I decide to use the few minutes head start I have on Riley to change into something a bit…sexier than my concert clothes. After a couple of hours of jumping around in an arena, they feel gross and a little sweaty. I decide on a lacy golden lingerie set, sheer enough that I’m practically naked. The gold matches my boots, and those are staying on until we get to the bedroom. I have a feeling Riley would be into that.

I hear the intercom buzz as I’m admiring myself in the mirror and tell the doorman to let Riley through. Then I head downstairs, meeting him just as the doors open.

“Hey, sor—holy shit,” he interrupts himself mid-sentence, taking in my outfit (or lack thereof). One thing about being a supermodel is that you get incredibly comfortable with your naked body since it’s practically plastered everywhere. High fashion doesn’t really do modesty.

“You like it?” I ask, giving him a little spin. When I turn back around to face him, his face is pinker than it was three seconds ago and I notice he’ s already very happy to see me. “Pathetic,” I scold, making a point of looking down at the tent in his pants. “You’re too easy, Coleman.”

“Well, when you look like that .”

“Like what?”

“Like you,” he says, wrapping me in a kiss and sneaking an ass grab. “So, should I pretend to ask you how you liked the show, or should we just get straight to it?”

“Ask me how I liked the show.” I wrap my arms around his neck, my tits on full display if only he looked down a few inches. But he clears his throat, moves his hand from my ass to my waist, and, like the gentleman he is, makes a valiant attempt at keeping his eyes on mine.

“How did you like the show?” he tries, his voice thick with lust.

“I thought it was really good. You were amazing. I especially liked that new song… ‘Put It on the Radio,’ was it?”

“That’s the one.” His jaw is clenched, and his hands are statue-still on my waist.

“And I thought Waylon, Ethan, and Nash did wonderfully, too. Who knew your friends were so talented? You must audition all your acquaintances and only actually befriend the ones with musical talent.”

“I do,” he answers, but the look in his eye tells me that he’s not thinking of his bandmates right now. No, with that look, he must be imagining fucking me in a thousand different positions, each raunchier than the last.

“Fine, Riley.” I look up at him through lusty eyes as I attach my lips to the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. “I’ll stop torturing you.” I run my tongue over his skin, drawing a throaty groan out of him.

“Thank God,” he grabs me forcefully, and I squeal in surprise as he grabs my ass and presses my hips into his, allowing me to feel how rock-h ard he is. “I don’t know how much longer I would’ve lasted,” he rumbles into my ear.

I kiss him in response, running my tongue over his bottom lip. He eagerly parts his lips for me before drawing back just long enough to murmur, “Where’s your shower?”

“Shower?”

“Shower.”

“Upstairs, in my en suite,” I answer before yelping in surprise as he bends and throws me over his shoulder in one smooth movement. He carries me as though I weigh nothing.

“Riley!” I laugh as he begins walking toward the stairs. “Put me down!”

“I don’t think so.” He climbs the stairs, and I can feel every muscle in his back and shoulders rippling. God, this man is hot.

When we reach my bathroom, he turns the shower handle, and water starts spraying from the three showerheads—one long one on top, simulating rain, and two on either side.

“Holy shit, this is fancy,” he chuckles, and I feel his laugh reverberate since my upper body is still pressed to his back.

“Care to set me down now?”

“Can these get wet?” he asks, skimming a finger under the thin waistband of the lace thong.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says, gingerly bending to set me down in the shower.

The warm water rains down on me. If I wasn’t soaked before, I am now. I watch slack-jawed as Riley strips. He’s not giving me much of a show—he’s quick and efficient—but it makes my blood rush all the same. A few seconds later, he joins me in the shower, closing the glass door behind him.

“Hi,” I say, resting my hands on his chest.

“Hi.” He grins, ducking his head to kiss me deeply. I’ve only tried shower sex once bef ore, and kissing was akin to waterboarding. But despite the direct water flow, Riley angled his head just right to keep our faces free of water.

His hands wander as his tongue wrestles with mine, toying with the fabric of my underwear before tugging them down my thighs. He wraps a hand around one leg, and I lift it obligingly, allowing him to slip one side of the thong off, repeating with the other leg. He ventures a hand between my legs, and my hips buck into his hand, vying for any friction.

“Jesus, Willow, you’re so wet.”

“As if you haven’t been hard as a rock since the second you walked in,” I retort, wrapping my hand around his cock and lifting my leg around his hip so our bodies can more easily connect. One of his hands slips under my knee, helping me keep my leg up.

“You sure you’re good to go?”

In response, I grab the back of his neck and push his lips back onto mine as I stroke his cock. He growls in response. Without disconnecting our lips, he lifts me entirely and presses me into the wall of the shower before setting me back down on one leg, still holding my right leg around his waist. Then he reaches behind him and angles one of the side showerheads so it’s spraying right on my clit. I arch my back at the sensation and whimper into his mouth. I feel him run his cock up and down my core teasingly before slowly sliding in. We moan in unison, finally breaking our lips. I fix one hand around his shoulders and the other fisting a clump of his hair as his lips fix on my neck.

“Riley,” I breathe. “I’m not going to last long like this.”

On their own, either the water spraying my clit or his cock filling me would be enough to make me come. Together, it’ll be a miracle if I last sixty seconds.

“Good.” I feel him smirk against my neck before he kisses his way down, sucking one of m y nipples into his mouth while rubbing the other between his thumb and forefinger.

His thrusts aren’t especially fast, but they’re so deep, thanks to this angle, that I feel him in my stomach. A pressure builds between my legs, and before I know it, my vision is crowding with black.

“Riley,” I moan, trying to stave off the orgasm a little longer.

“You’re okay, baby. Come for me,” he whispers into my ear.

And suddenly, my vision fades almost completely, crowning with stars. I’m floating so high out of my body right now that I can’t even imagine what noises are escaping me. I’m overflowing with that familiar ecstasy, my skin feeling like it’s brimming with fire. Finally, I slowly return to my body, my head heavy with pleasure as Riley comes back into focus, his huge arms now on either side of my head, my legs wrapped completely around his waist, my arms around his shoulders as he pins me to the wall with his hips.

His lips meet mine as he continues thrusting, faster than before but just as deep. The water’s still targeting exactly where I need it to, and I squirm under its focus. I tear my lips from Riley’s to chance a glance down at where our bodies meet, and the sight of him thrusting into me is enough for my stomach to drop out of my body. That was a mistake , I think, leaning my head on the wall and staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine my grandmother to abate the pleasure already rebuilding within me. I’m trying desperately to hold out so that we can come together, but I’m struggling to contain myself.

“Fuck, Willow,” he breathes.

I move one of my hands to rest on the side of his face, moving it so I’m staring directly into his green eyes, just inches from mine. His heavy-lidded eyes, combined with the feel of his five o’clock shadow agai nst my hand and everything else, make my breath catch, twisting my insides into a ball of pleasure.

“I can’t hold out much longer,” he groans, managing to keep his eyes on mine instead of rolling back in pleasure.

In response, the pleasure between my legs overflows for the second time, this time even stronger than the first. I try to keep my eyes on Riley’s and am vaguely aware of Riley falling off the cliff seconds after I do, his green eyes shutting in bliss.