I skipped a few pages since last Friday’s post, both to keep some of the show’s details secret and to get to the juicier stuff. *winks* First draft, subject to revision, the cutting floor, etc. Enjoy! (Don’t forget to enter the Halloween giveaway to win a copy of The Sweetest Kiss, Ravishing Vampire Erotica!)
Smiling, Victor stood and reached out to take Shiloh’s hand. “You’ve sold us, Ms. Holmes. Mal and I will co-produce the show, but I’d like for you to be the showrunner.”
Her eyes gleamed, shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you so much, Mr. Connagher. It’s an honor to work with you.”
He didn’t release her hand and she made no move to pull away. “Mal, get to work on the contracts for our in-house people. For sure, lock Georgia into the host position if she’s interested. We need to be taping by the end of the week. Preferably tomorrow if we can swing the set. Make sure every single person down to the lowest gaffer on set signs the confidentiality agreement. I don’t want a single word of this leaking before we’re ready.”
“I’m on it.” Mal gave Shiloh a knowing smile and headed for the door. “Welcome to the team, Ms. Holmes.”
“Just Shiloh, please,” she said, smiling.
The door shut. Victor watched the emotions flaring in her eyes and across her face. Pure, sunny excitement, lip-biting anticipation, growing warmth in her eyes the longer she stared back at him. Slowly, he tightened his fingers. Her breathing caught, quickened, and her eyes turned smoky and heavy-lidded without a single hint of fear.
“If I must be one of the judges competing for the title of Master, then you must be a,” barely, he managed to avoid saying my, “submissive for the show.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and it was all he could do not to lean down and place his own teeth on that tender flesh. “I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me to admit that’s exactly what I planned.”
He squeezed harder, waiting for that little gasp of pain that said he’d gone far enough…so he could go just a little bit further. “There were easier ways to approach me than to devise an entire show to lure yourself into my clutches.”
She laughed out a low groan that was music to his ears. God, it had been entirely too long since he’d worked a responsive sub over and enjoyed that symphony of pain and pleasure. “It wouldn’t have been very professional of me to prance into your office stark naked.”
“Not professional,” he agreed, drawing her closer. “But a damned pretty sight. Are you going to be able to handle showrunner duties as well as putting up with me on set?”
“Of course.” She blinked away some of the haze darkening her eyes. “I’ve dreamed of nothing else for months. I can do it, Mr. Connagher.”
He squeezed harder, his grip brutal, he knew, crushing her delicate hand in his own big palm that could still throw a football in a perfect spiral at fifty yards. Greedy, starved, he felt as crazed as an addict who’d fallen off the wagon after years of abstinence.
She whimpered, a cry that sliced his heart into ribbons even while lighting a fire in his blood that wanted her writhing and screaming, begging him to stop.
It’s better to know now, he tried to console himself, waiting for her to jerk away. Maybe she’d slap him and stomp out of VCONN entirely. It would be the best for both of them. Certainly safer than putting herself into his hands, hoping he’d have the mercy and decency to control himself without committing serious harm.
Knees crumpling, she fell against him, sliding down his legs so she knelt at his feet. Rubbing her cheek against his stomach, she twisted her head so she could look up at him. “What may I call you, sir?”