Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

A ngela trailed behind Holden, the warmth of his hand a tether that pulled her forward into the sanctum of his private quarters. The moment they crossed the threshold into Holden's bedroom, she felt the distinct shift in the atmosphere. The sight that greeted them made Angela's pulse quicken. Camera equipment stood like silent sentinels around the room, their lenses dark and unseeing. She paused, an eyebrow arching delicately as her gaze swept over the unexpected ensemble.

"Sorry about this." Holden's hand left her back as he rushed in to grab the equipment. "It's not hooked in. I've never... done a scene in here."

"Never?"

Holden shook his head as he began to dismantle the setup.

"Wait." Angela's hand reached out to stop him from collapsing the camera's tripod "What if we record something? Just for us?"

Holden hesitated, the vulnerability he so expertly hid from his legions of fans flickering across his chiseled features. Angela knew his various looks because she herself was a fan. He only ever grinned at the camera. He never pursed his lips, not even when he was about to come. On the trails of the flash of vulnerability he showed to her, desire flared within the depths of his gaze.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want to." Angela stepped closer, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Holden studied her for a heartbeat longer, the room crackling with erotic potential. Then, with a decisive nod, he set the camera back on its three legs. "All right. I swear this stays between us."

"I trust you."

Once again, that flash of vulnerability shone on his face. Angela wanted to say more words to keep it there. She knew the only way that she could was to give her own vulnerability to him.

Holden's finger flicked on the camera. A red eye stared back at them.

Angela's fingers trembled as they reached for the hem of Holden's shirt. The fabric, a soft witness to his sculpted torso, seemed reluctant to part from his skin, clinging like a lover, not ready to say goodbye. With every inch of cloth she peeled away, her breath grew shallow, drinking in the sight of his flesh coming into view.

"I feel like you're unwrapping me."

"Best present under the tree." Angela's lips curled into a smile that was both playful and hungry. A hunger that sharpened as she exposed the broad expanse of his chest, each muscle defined under the bedroom's soft lighting.

Holden's hands were not idle either. They found the buttons of her blouse, popping them open one by one with deliberate slowness that bordered on torture. His fingers brushed against her skin with each movement, igniting small fires that burned straight through to her core.

Together, they shed the last of their garments, leaving a trail of discarded barriers on the floor. Their bodies, now bare, spoke a silent language of longing as they moved toward the camera.

"Let's give it the best angle," Angela suggested, her voice a velvet whisper as she adjusted the lens. It was a strange sensation, being both the director and the star, but the thrill of it danced along her nerves like electricity.

"So methodical, even in seduction," Holden teased, but there was admiration in his tone. He watched her, a predator's focus, as she ensured that their imminent entanglement would be captured just right.

The red recording light blinked again. The rest of the world fell away. It was just Angela, Holden, and the unspoken promise of ecstasy about to unfold under the watchful eye of the camera that would memorialize their steamy collision of desire.

Holden's hands were artists, and Angela's body their canvas. They painted strokes of fire down her sides, igniting a blaze that spiraled through her veins. Fingertips dipped into the soft valleys and ascended the gentle rises of her form, mapping out a territory he'd only dared to explore with his eyes until now.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured against her skin, words hot and heavy with longing.

Angela arched into his touch like a cat craving affection. Her lips found his in a tangle of need, each kiss stoking the flames higher. Their bodies swayed in a rhythm born of raw hunger.

Angela felt the camera's presence, an invisible audience to their private performance. With a sultry gaze, she gave it a show, tossing her long, dark hair back and caressing her own curves, a tease for both Holden and the mechanical eye that watched.

"Enjoying the spotlight?" Holden’s voice rumbled, low and laced with amusement.

"Immensely," she confessed, rolling her hips in a deliberate motion designed for the camera's unblinking stare. But then, his hands — oh, those hands — they roamed with a tenderness that seared through her act. The sultry vixen facade melted away under the weight of genuine desire, leaving only Angela, raw and open, her snarky shield discarded along with her clothes.

The heat of his palms branded her heart as much as her flesh. His lips traced the line of her jaw, and she couldn't help but close her eyes, lost in the sensation. For a fleeting second, she forgot about the camera, the recording light, the seductive scene they’d intended to stage. There was only Holden, his touch, his kiss, his whispered adorations that made her feel seen beyond the physical allure.

"Look at me," he commanded, drawing her gaze back to his.

Eyes locked, they moved together in a tempest of touch and taste, every movement a declaration. The camera stood sentinel, capturing the crescendo of their mingling sighs and the electric connection sparking between them. It was more than a recording; it was evidence of a collision between two souls, opposites in life but equals in the language of love.

"Tell me what you want," he said against her neck, his breath hot and sending tremors through her.

"Everything," Angela breathed out. "I want everything."

And he gave it to her. His lips journeyed across her collarbone, drawing a path of fire that ignited every nerve ending. His tongue wrote sonnets on her skin, each verse a stroke of genius that only served to deepen her longing. She arched into him, her fingers threading through his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

Their moans harmonized in the dimly lit room, a salacious soundtrack to the act of giving and taking. Holden's touch was both question and answer, seeking her most secret places and worshiping them with a devotion that bordered on reverence. Her response was a cascade of whispers, each one spilling from her lips like sacred confessions meant only for him. When his mouth found the bud between her legs, she screamed.

It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. The intensity of his tongue, the rhythm, the expertise. Each lap was a delicious shockwave that left her breathless. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she arched her back, surrendering completely to the pleasure, to him. Her body trembled lightly and then began to shudder as an orgasm took hold of her, everything else melting away.

And he did not stop. With each draw of his breath, his face nestled between her legs. Her world was colored with shades of ecstasy that her imagination couldn't even fathom before. Holden slide his fingers inside her while his mouth devoured her eagerly.

She moaned. She cried. She begged. She came again.

He grabbed hold of her G-spot and did not let go. Angela's moans grew louder, her body arching as Holden's fingers glided in and out of her. She felt another climax building, the sensations overwhelming her. As a scientist, one who studied pleasure, she knew that back-to-back muscle spasms could get painful.

"Holden… wait… I can't…it'll… I… wait."

He lifted his head, but he didn't let go of that spongy patch of nerves inside of her. She tried to beg for him to stop. But she couldn't form that two-lettered word. She knew that he knew what she was trying to say. The smirk on his face told her.

"What do you want to tell me, sweetheart?"

"Please… please…"

"Okay." He twisted his fingers and rubbed harder.

Angela felt the heat growing, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of his own desire. She cried out, her body convulsing beneath him. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut. He kissed her as her mouth formed a perfect O. He licked at her lips as he caressed her labia, like he was surfing the wave of her orgasm.

His lips twitched in satisfaction. He leaned down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, gently nipping at it before releasing. "Now that you're warmed up…"