Week 4, Day 5: Thursday
Tim tosses back another shot — he's so many deep he can't even feel the burn of the liquor as it slides down the back of his throat. He hasn't had a night of drinking like this since his twenties. Desperate times and all that…
Naive little reality TV novices that they are, Lucy and Tim learned at their respective classes on Sunday that they hadn't actually had a choice in the matter of who would be stripping for whom.
Production already had grand plans for a Magic Mike-esque1 group routine for the men (minus the actual talent) and the women would have to wait until the weekend to learn their fates.
The only thing Tim is grateful about in this entire debacle is that they didn't end up having to wear costumes. There will be no defiling of a cop or military uniform. And thank the lord he doesn't have to be a f*cking firefighter. Instead, they'll perform in jeans and tearaway shirts masquerading as button-downs.
So after hours of rehearsal (yes, rehearsal) — what the actual f*ck has his life become — here he is in an empty practice studio turned makeshift bar with five other men, bonded together by their shared misery. Thirty minutes until showtime.
A movement at the entrance of the studio catches his eye. And geez, this woman has some kind of power over him, because the instant he registers it's her, the rest of the room fades away for him. She has his full attention.
She's in a frilly little dress just the right side of sexy, which, like her, is somehow the perfect fusion of sweet and irresistible.
And heaven help him, despite the depth of his misery (very, very deep — like the ocean), just the sight of her sends a jolt of arousal through him, his eyes zeroing in on the smooth golden skin of her shapely legs as she approaches.
"Lucyyy," a drunken Chad slurs. "Come here. Have a shot with us."
She laughs, politely saying hello and then brushing him off as she quickly exchanges greetings and pleasantries with the rest of the men.
The way douchebag Chad's eyes follow her as she moves makes Tim want to smack him upside the head. The fact that maybe it's not all that different from the way Tim had been looking at her two seconds ago? It only makes him want to smack him harder. That happens to be his wife (still weird), and no one else is allowed to have the same dirty, dirty thoughts. Especially not douchey Chad. Or that creepy PA Brad. And if there happens to be a pervy Thad —
Lucy turns her focus to him, thankfully interrupting his nonsensical drunken thought process. And why is he so damn eager to have her attention? He frowns, trying to figure out when exactly he'd turned into such an overexcited puppy. Hmm… must be the booze.
She lightly grazes her fingertips along the underside of his forearm in a way that causes the hairs on his arm to stand on end.
"Can I steal you for a sec?" There's a teasing glint in her eyes, and her lips are pursed as if she's trying to hold in laughter. She is eating this up — loving every moment of his discomfort.
And he should be irritated. Hell, he is irritated. But at the moment, his dick gives no f*cks about his irritation. He readily twines his fingers through hers and follows Lucy obediently out of the studio because he is, in fact, a very good boy.
She pulls him further down the hallway and then pauses, glancing in both directions before opening a door and pulling him into what appears to be an unoccupied administrative office.
Once the door is safely closed behind them, Lucy slips her arms around his neck, arching up on her toes just long enough to barely graze his bottom lip. Her lips are gone before he can even properly register the pleasure of her touch.
"Ugh, Lucy," he half groans, the other half of the sound possibly bordering on a whimper, if that was a sound he was capable of making. (It most certainly not.) "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," she smiles coyly. "I just thought you might need some help getting your seductive juices going before you attempt to seduce me…"
He swallows, eyes darkening as she pulls him back down to her, this time graduating to a nip before cruelly abandoning him.
This entire week has been a recipe for blue balls — a battle of wills she most certainly has won, though he has hardly been an innocent bystander. A series of encounters following the exhaustion of excruciatingly long days of work and filming, each one pushing the envelope the teensiest bit further.
On Sunday, he'd given her a quick peck good night by the door, Kojo's leash in hand as he prepared to take him out for a final time that evening. "Is that it?" she had demanded, clearly unimpressed with his lackluster display of affection. She'd fisted her hand in the front of his shirt and pulled him back to her for a kiss that had left him in a daze for the duration of Kojo's walk and then some.
On Monday, he'd returned the favor, backing her into the wall in the hallway as they crossed paths just before bed, his mouth devouring hers as he relished in the feeling of her soft, perfect curves pinned beneath his body. He'd let his lips wander down her neck and just far enough south along the neckline of her flowery little robe that she'd refused to let go of him when he pulled back, her indignant pout indicating that she was not amused. He'd chuckled softly, leaving her with a chaste kiss on the forehead.
On Tuesday, she'd wandered out into the living room in nothing but a T-shirt. He eyed her warily over a file he was reviewing for an early meeting the next day for some new task force or another. She'd crossed the room until she was standing directly in front of him, bending practically in slow motion to collect her laptop. Come here, the taunting text on her ass entreatied. She wiggled her rear before straightening, and he'd had just about enough.
She had laughed and squirmed when he tossed his file aside and grabbed hold of her, one forearm wrapping around her front to hold her in place as he used his free hand to grab a generous handful of her sassy little ass. He'd playfully sunk his teeth into the plush curve of the other cheek before finally releasing her.
She'd whined and grumbled something about, "Was he trying to break her laptop?", but her eyes were still dancing with her laughter as she bent to kiss his cheek and say goodnight. He'd given her a final squeeze for good measure.
On Wednesday, things had gotten hot and heavy after dinner. She'd climbed into his lap, and he'd let his hands wander boldly over her curves. And when she wickedly ground down onto his dick and then left him hanging? She claimed she just didn't want to spoil him for later in the week. Tim's eyes had narrowed as she meandered back into her bedroom, tossing a sweet, "Good night, Tim," over her shoulder. He'd started to suspect the power was going to her head.
And thus, here they are, on Thursday evening, and all Tim can think about is how badly he wants her. He walks her backward until she brushes against the desk. He swiftly boosts her up onto the surface, hands parting her knees so he can stand between them. He covers her mouth with his own before she even has a chance to respond. The sound of her moan as he roguishly slides his hand [and her dress] up the length of her thigh is almost enough for him to forget why they're here. If only.
They are both breathing heavily when they finally pull apart.
"Whew," Lucy gasps, as she attempts to straighten her hair and her dress. Her cheeks are adorably flushed, and it takes all of his willpower not to finish what they've started. "Yup, all right, juices appear to be flowing just fine. I think my job here is done."
Her eyes meet his as they pause in front of the door and she lifts a hand to his cheek, "You're gonna do great."
And though he dismisses her with a gruff, "No doubt," that reeks of false bravado, a part of him is melting inside at just how good the sweet encouragement and vote of confidence from her makes him feel.
She rolls her eyes, clearly seeing right through his front, giving his hand a final squeeze before they go their separate ways. "I'll see you out there, Bradford," she promises, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that reminds him just how much she's loving every bit of his suffering.
The alcohol and Lucy's (cough) encouragement are enough to get him onto the "stage" — they are performing in a dance studio with plenty of space for the women, the film crew, production, and then some. The women are spread out around the room, each seated in their own chair. How else would they have enough space to enjoy the pleasures of their partner's targeted gyrations in front of an audience of twenty?
To literally no one's surprise, Tim decides to phone it in. Shouldn't it be enough that he's here at all? He certainly thinks so.
He hovers in the back barely bothering to move other than to stay in his spot in their absurd little formation while Chad hams it up front and center and the others are some muddle of best efforts and drunken resignation. For once in his life, Tim is glad for Chad's presence because the man is actually good enough at this to draw every eye in the room to his chiseled body as he flexes his biceps, thrusts his pelvis, and rolls his hips in tune to the music. He'd bet money that male stripper is a line on Chad's resume.
Alejandro's a close second, clearly comfortable in his own skin and easy-going enough to make the best of the situation.
Arjun and Malcolm are more awkward, but the combination of alcohol and knowing just enough of the choreography to get by drives them to at least attempt to power through.
Poor Michael is by far the worst, even worse than Tim who is barely bothering to move. But he performs with more heart than all of them combined. Surprisingly, ice queen Gianna is watching him with an unexpected softness in her eyes, eventually jumping to her feet to cheer him on.
His eyes gravitate to Lucy and though she's smiling widely and laughing at the antics of the other men, she doesn't have the same delighted twinkle in her eyes that the other women do as they watch their partners willingly humiliate themselves for their entertainment.
She smiles encouragingly at him when she notices his gaze on her, lifting her fingers to her mouth to emit a shrill whistle before vocally cheering him on despite his complete and total lack of effort.
And dammit. Looking at her is a mistake because it makes him want to suck it up and try. Makes him want to make sure she knows that she matters to him just as much as any of these women do to their partners. That she matters more than his pride and stubborn refusal to participate in something so ridiculous.
Fuck it. Eyes locked on hers, he sighs deeply and shakes his head as he catches the beat. Her eyes go wide as he rolls his hips, gyrating in time to the music2. Her mouth drops open when, eyes rolling practically to the back of his head, he lifts his shirt to offer her a glimpse of his abs. He's still shaking his head as holds his arm out in front of him and drops lower to perform some absurd motion called a cowboy hip thrust. Look, it's not that he can't dance; it's the principle of it all, okay?
Lucy's jaw is completely agape by the time he pulls his shirt open wide, taking slow intentional steps toward her as he works it down over his arms. He tosses it in her direction with a patented Tim Bradford smirk, and he could swear her cheeks are starting to tinge pink.
Her eyebrows shoot practically into her hair when he drops to his knees, sliding across the floor until he's on the ground in front of her chair, finishing off with a ridiculous thrusting motion in her direction. She begins to fan herself, tongue peeking out between her teeth as he executes a few one-handed push-ups, his stance wide before ending with a floor thrust that has her squealing his name as she almost falls out of her chair.
He fights back a smile as they enter the last mile, a sequence that involves a lot of ass shaking, hip thrusting, and body rolling as he straddles her chair and ends up basically in her lap. She presses her lips together, clearly attempting to keep a straight face as she grazes her fingertips over his torso, but by the end she is cry-laughing. The studio is filled with the sound of the women's howls, and though comic relief wasn't exactly what they were going for with their dead sexy moves, no one complains.
Lucy wipes at her eyes, grabbing for his hand and following as he gets to his feet, ready to begin the search for his dignity — assuming, of course, there's any left to be found.
She's still laughing almost uncontrollably as she throws her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his cheek. "Thank you; that was amazing!" she says as she pulls back to meet his eyes. And as he gazes down at her, taking in how damn happy she is, he finds himself feeling like it was worth it.
But then he remembers the part about this airing on national television and thinks that next time he wants to make her happy he'll buy her something pretty and take her swimming with turtles instead.
He will never, ever be able to live this down.
They all end up at a restaurant and bar near the studio where they grab dinner and the men celebrate making it through their performance. It's a rare opportunity for the group to cut loose and catch up sans camera crew.
Unsurprisingly, Alejandro and Megan are doing well — still completely enamored with one another. Every time Lucy glances their way, she notices they are touching or showing affection to one another in some way.
It compels her to reach for Tim's hand under the table, and she feels a wave of fondness toward him as he laces his fingers through hers and squeezes her hand without missing a beat in the heated debate he's having with Chad and Malcolm about the Rams rookie readiness heading into training camp.
"So Malcolm and I have decided we'll be going our separate ways," Camila announces after their entrees arrive, to everyone's surprise. "We just want different things long-term, but honestly we're still having such a good time with each other — we've decided to make the most out of the rest of this experience until Decision Day."
Arjun and Sonia seem content, though Sonia reveals during a trip to the bathroom that she's struggling with their sexual chemistry (or lack thereof). Lucy wonders what it would be like to have been paired with someone she doesn't think about getting naked with at all hours of the day.
Elyse reveals that she and Chad have already called it quits, both discreetly attempting to see other people while they go through the motions for the duration of their contracts with the show.
Gianna comes through with what is hands-down the most surprising reveal of the night as the women gather around the bar for a final shot to end the night. "I think — I think I might be falling for Michael," she confesses. Jaws drop open in disbelief — this is a woman who'd sworn up and down she would never be attracted to Michael.
"I know, I know, okay. It just sort of happened. All the time we have to spend together with this whole thing — he just — I don't know. I've never been with a man who really wants to get to know me, you know? He cares what I think and what I want. And he's patient and kind. And he just treats me really, really well. It just made me think about all my past relationships and the kind of men I've been attracted to, and yeah… he's really great," she finishes with a shrug and a sheepish expression.
Lucy muses about her past relationships and how Tim stacks up — somehow both far better and worse because he would be that infuriating. Stupid hot, adorable idiot that he is.
"So, how are you two doing?" Megan asks Lucy as they wait outside of the restaurant for their Ubers. Tim joins them just as she finishes the question, sliding his arms around Lucy's waist from behind. She's realizing that drunk Tim is also a more touchy, affectionate, and attentive Tim, and she kind of adores it.
When she doesn't answer after a few beats, Tim fills in for her. "We're good. Just still figuring things out, you know?"
There's a tightness in his voice though, and she knows he's wondering why she hadn't answered. Hell, she'd like to know the same.
He gives her a squeeze and presses a kiss to her temple, before releasing her and moving back toward where Alejandro, Sonia, and Arjun are speculating about the next "exercise" a few feet away.
Lucy bites her lip, feeling suddenly confused about why answering that question had felt like so much pressure.
Megan, oblivious to the brief flicker of tension between them, smiles at Lucy. "He's so sweet with you," she gushes.
And he really, truly is — when he's not being an idiot, that is.
Week 4, Day 6: Friday
The studio is dimly lit when Tim arrives the next night for Lucy's private show. The sound of lightly thumping bass filters through the speakers — the song is a strange fusion of upbeat and sultry. This studio is smaller than the one they were in yesterday. Three of the four walls are floor-to-ceiling mirrors, with a long, deep bench running along the back wall. Half a dozen poles are spaced out across the room, anchored between the floor and ceiling. And though his throat goes dry at even the thought of Lucy on one of those, he's honestly kind of wishing he didn't have to be here tonight.
It's been a long day, not at all helped by his excessive drinking the night prior. A string of unsolved kidnappings is starting to get a lot of attention from the press. Patrol units under his oversight had been the first to respond in two of the five cases, and he's feeling the weight of it more and more with every day that goes by without a break in the case. The fact that the bulk of the investigation is out of his hands at this point only makes it worse. It's his least favorite position to be in — one where he isn't in control.
Much like the situation he's in with Lucy — they are creeping up on two weeks since he'd told her he wants to give things a real try. Perhaps idiotically, he'd assumed she was on the same page — they've only grown closer since his close call with the virus; things seem to be progressing in the right direction. But her hesitation to answer Megan's question in front of him the night prior had left him unsettled. A reminder that he'd willingly put himself in a position of vulnerability when he'd left the ball in her court. It feels a lot like waiting to be shoved off of a ledge, with the building growing that much taller every day. A perfect scenario for his worst instincts to kick in — the instincts that had earned him this precarious position to begin. But he's really trying to prove to her that he can be a different man. Trying to prove it to himself.
He settles down in the middle of the bench, allowing his head to fall back against the wall and his eyes to close while he waits. He's not entirely sure what he's expecting. Maybe that she'll come out in a hot little prisoner or cop outfit and taunt him with a pair of furry handcuffs. Or a firefighter with her very own hose if she's feeling extra sassy. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she did come out in a ski suit, do a couple of twirls, and call it a day just to teach him a lesson. She certainly does seem to enjoy putting him in his place. Both the most aggravating and most addictive woman he's ever been with. She would be that confounding.
The music shifts to a set of melodic guitar chords3, gradually increasing in volume until the sound fills the entire room. The lights change colors, bathing the studio in a reddish glow. He straightens, the anticipation of her entrance winning out over his exhaustion.
Lucy enters from the opposite side of the room. Her back is to him, but he can tell she's in a silky red robe. She reaches up to let her hair loose from where it is piled high on top of her head. It tumbles over her shoulders — a little bit curlier and wilder than her day-to-day waves.
Huh. This is already off to a pretty good start. He tries not to think too much about the things she could be doing as he tangles his hands in that hair.
She turns in his direction and even from across the room, his eyes are immediately attracted to the perfect deep red of her pout and the smoky shadow making her already beautiful eyes appear more mysterious and seductive.
He swallows when she raises her eyes to his. He's not feeling quite as much the eager puppy toward her today, but she certainly is still very, very capable of having an impact on him.
Her lips curve upward and she offers him a shrug as if to say, here we go.
He offers an arched eyebrow and a cocky half-smile as if to remind her just how worthwhile she'd promised to make this.
She begins to move, each of her strides timed perfectly with the music. She weaves in and out of the poles, moving fluidly as she occasionally grips one and swings halfway around, adding bits of momentum to her movement in a way that is somehow both playful and sexy. In a way that is completely her.
Considering that on any given day, merely existing in proximity to her is sufficient to turn him on, this is something else entirely. And he's not entirely sure he's going to be able to survive it.
She stops when she reaches the pole in front of him.
She holds his gaze as she tugs on the tie of her robe. His eyes are completely glued on her as she allows it to slide over her shoulders and down her arms until it's fallen completely off. She balls the garment in her hands. She tosses it right in his face, as if to remind him that he'll get what she gives him and be happy about it.
She's lucky the fabric is soft and that it smells so damn good — just like her. So he's willing to forgive her for her completely unwarranted violence — just this once.
He tosses the robe aside so he can take her in — she's in a piece of red lacy lingerie4 that he wouldn't know how to describe as anything other than the sexiest, tiniest dress he's ever seen. His eyes linger on where it's slit all the way up to her hip on both sides, held together by nothing more than a pair of flimsy laces. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in the spots where the fabric is sheer, teasing glimpses of even more skin.
This is a good look for her. He swallows. A very good look.
His eyes slowly trail up and down her body, and then back up to her face. And it's maybe the look in her eyes that has the biggest impact. Locked unapologetically on his. Conveying that she is fully aware of just how much he wants her, and that she is dead set on making him want her even more.
If he'd thought that maybe the power was going to her head earlier this week, he's absolutely certain of it now. This woman is going to make him get on his knees and beg.
And he's not sure he's ever been this ready to grovel.
His throat has gone completely dry. She takes hold of the pole with both hands. The vocals on the song5 begin.
Did you really think I'd just forgive and forget?
Huh, well, that sounds promising.
Lucy swings her leg back before bringing it forward to hook around the pole, hanging on with one hand as she allows her body to arch back and around. She grips the pole with both hands behind her, unhooking her leg and allowing the momentum to pull her all the way around as she swings it.
It's then that he realizes that the pretty lacy tiny piece of fabric she's wearing is even tinier than he'd realized — her entire back exposed, save for two thin straps crisscrossing her upper back.
Apparently, she doesn't just want him to beg, she wants him to die right here.
She continues to move, and damn he wishes he could slow it all down — take in every bit of her as she moves. She flips her hair as she bends at the waist. And how the hell is everything single little thing she does so damn sexy?
She reaches both hands back up over her head to grip the pole and rolls her body in perfect time to the music, sliding down its length until she is falling forward onto her knees.
As the verse transitions to the chorus, she grips the pole with both hands, arching her back almost into a complete backbend as she pulls herself back into a standing position.
He shakes his head in disbelief, watching as she reaches her leg back behind her to hook around the pole, completely leaving the ground as she spins. Her body is the perfect combination of softness and strength as she maneuvers higher, continuing to rotate. This is not at all what he'd imagined — it's as beautiful and mesmerizing as she is.
By the time she's back on her feet, Tim finds himself questioning whether maybe he'd gotten a head injury at work and is just hallucinating all of this because that is exactly what this feels like — the hottest, sexiest, most absurd hallucination he's ever had. Everything about this is surreal, and he can't entirely wrap his head around the fact that this is all for him. That she is for him.
As if she senses he's questioning reality as he knows it, she begins to hum along with the song as she makes her way over to him. When the chorus hits again, she joins in and Tim's mouth drops open. Because holy f*cking shit.
This isn't singing along with the car radio singing along or singing in the shower singing along — her voice is clear and confident and so perfectly sultry that he has to actually remind himself to clamp his mouth shut. She can sing. Like really sing. Like could probably win American [or, you know, Canadian] Idol sing.
How had he not known this about her? How had he failed to realize how ridiculously talented she is on top of everything else she excels at?
He has always been a fairly confident man when it comes to dating and women, despite not always being particularly suave when put on the spot as Angela loves to remind him. But he's never lacked for attention from women, and frankly, he's never been turned down when he has been interested enough to pursue.
But watching Lucy now, he is very seriously questioning just how far out of his league she might be.
He gets literal chills when she perfectly hits a pair of hauntingly drawn-out notes leading into the chorus.
I'll remember those words, when I come for your soul…your soul
You know that you…you dug your own grave…now lie in it
you're so cruel…but revenge is a dish best served cold
Everything about her is so beautiful that he isn't even bothered by the additional evidence that she is most definitely trying to murder him.
I see red, red, oh red
A gun to your head, head, to your head, oh
Executioner style, and there won't be no trial
Don't you know that you're better off dead
Yup — there's no doubt about it now. He is absolutely in some kind of fever dream. That explains all the red, at least.
All I see is red, red, oh red
Now all I see is…
She stops in front of him, bracing one hand on his shoulder as she lifts the other to his cheek and brushes her thumb over his stubble — her eyes dancing with the perfect combination of passion and laughter and sweetness as she leans down to brush her lips against his.
He can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around her and attempting to pull her closer.
She laughs, pushing him back and winking as she warns him to — Sleep with one eye open tonight
She loops one hand around his neck while shifting the other to playfully squeeze and rub along the length of his thigh.
"Hi," she breathes softly, eyes searching his, seemingly to gauge his reaction to all of this.
Unfortunately for her, he's forgotten the English language. He just shakes his head as he stares up at her in amazement, because who is this woman? And what the actual f*ck has he ever done to deserve a single bit of this?
Despite not remembering words (any of them), his hands still work, so he slides one up the back of her thigh until he reaches her very bare ass tucked away under the lacy, flowy stuff. He gives her a squeeze to reassure her that she's doing just fine.
She playfully swats his hand away. "I'm not sure if you know how lap dances work, Tim, but you're supposed to look, not touch," she haughtily chastises.
He arches a surprised eyebrow. "And just how many lap dances have you given, Lucy?"
Lucy snorts as she grabs hold of his shoulders, shoving him back against the wall before climbing on top of him, straddling his lap with her knees.
"Apparently, more than you've received."
"Bold of you to assume I've never gone undercover in a strip club."
"Bold of you to assume I've never gone undercover in a strip club."
Touché.
She presses her chest against his as she leans closer to find his ear.
She bites his lobe none too gently, and his hand travels back to her ass to return the favor.
She experimentally rolls her hips in time to the music as a new song6 begins.
Fuck. At least his death will be a happy one.
She finds her rhythm, grinding down in a way that has him certain he's going to come in his pants if she doesn't stop. He groans, possibly louder than he's ever groaned. Every single bit of this is too much. It feels too damn good.
Lucy laughs as she takes in his glazed expression, his eyes locked on her cleavage, which she's very conveniently positioned at eye level for him to enjoy.
She leans back slightly, easing up on her movements as she fingers the strings at the side of her chemise.
And that certainly wakes him up. He straightens slightly, his grip on her hips tightening with anticipation.
He frowns as she plays with the strings but ultimately releases them. He toys with the strings she's abandoned and her eyes narrow. And he would honestly like to know — where is the gratitude? This unchecked power will destroy her. He is trying to save her.
She swats his hand away again, vindictively rolling her hips in a way that brings him so much pleasure he has to lift her off his lap halfway through the movement to prevent a premature end to the night.
She tips forward to press her nose to his. "You wish, Bradford," she taunts.
And he does. He really, really does.
He sighs as she laughs, allowing his head to fall back against the wall. "What's it gonna take to get you to stop torturing me like this and just get naked already, Lucy?"
She tilts her head to the side in consideration. "Hmm… what are my options?"
He digs his fingers into her ass and she yelps in surprise as he chuckles. She shakes her head but doesn't complain, instead wiggling herself more firmly into his grip.
"What did I tell you about asking nicely, Tim? Maybe try that," she offers with a self-satisfied smirk. "Preferably with a long list of all the things you adore about me."
He scoffs.
She shrugs, all wide-eyed innocence. Lies, damn lies.
"Fine, I'll ask nicely." He grins lazily up at her. "Lucy, will you please, for the love of god, show me your tits already?"
She apparently finds this less amusing than he does. She rolls her eyes. "Real nice. You're such an idiot, Tim."
He shrugs, "I said please."
She frowns, gripping his shoulders as she pushes herself up from his lap and gets to her feet. "Fine, whatever."
He keeps hold of her hand and pulls it to his lips. "Come here," he orders.
She narrows her eyes, and he decides for her, tugging her back to him and across his lap.
He cradles her cheek, guiding her mouth to his.
She sighs contentedly in response to the sweetness of the kiss.
He holds her in place, their foreheads pressed together. "Thank you, Lucy. This — tonight — it was incredible. You're incredible."
She pulls back to look at him, her expression unreadable as she studies him.
She then proceeds to do possibly one of the cutest things amidst the sexiest experience he's ever had. She leans in to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, and he's not entirely sure how he can feel this level of adoration for her while simultaneously feeling an insatiable urge to fuck her senseless.
She pushes out of his lap again, but this time she doesn't turn away from him. She keeps her eyes trained on his, undoing one tie and then the next, before easily pulling what's left of the chemise over her head.
His jaw drops open — for all of their teasing and banter, he hadn't actually expected her to take things any further. She has given him more than enough tonight, more than he could have dreamed of.
He drinks her in, his entire body responding to the sight of her in nothing more than a tiny red thong.
F*ck. This might just go down as the perfect murder.
Lucy's seen Tim look at her with lustfulness before — hell, for a few days at the beginning there, lustfulness and irritation were the only expressions he seemed capable of wearing. But she's not sure she's ever seen him look at her with this much hunger.
She crosses back to him and lowers herself onto his lap, facing away from him. She immediately feels the evidence of his arousal.
His hands grip her hips as she begins to alternate rolling her body and grinding down into him. She arches her back, one hand reaching behind her to grip the back of his neck, her fingernails gently scraping over the short hairs.
He presses hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck and along her shoulder as she moves.
She uses her free hand to slide one of his hands up from her hip slowly over her stomach until it is settled over her breast.
His groan of pleasure is so deep it's practically a growl. And god, his hands on her and the friction of their bodies as she moves over him — she can feel herself getting lost in the moment.
She forces herself up from his lap, meeting his eyes as she switches positions. His gaze is searing as he follows her movements, and it sends goosebumps prickling up all over her body. She crawls back onto him, facing him as she straddles one of his legs.
And she has just barely begun moving against him when the chorus hits a crescendo and he is gripping the back of her neck, pulling her face down to his, their lips crashing together almost painfully, but both too caught up in each other to care.
His hands move to her ass, his grip firm as he surprises her by getting to his feet and taking her with him. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but doesn't break away from his lips. She wraps her legs tightly around his waist as he walks her back into the nearest wall, the glass of the mirrors cool against her back.
His mouth continues to work over hers almost feverishly, tongue unabashedly exploring as his fingers grip her ass. He leans her back against the mirror as he attempts to shift his grip, fingers straying toward her heat.
The final chords of the song fade away and it's like a spell has been broken. They are both panting as Tim gradually lets her down so she can find her feet. He tips his forehead down against hers.
"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to —"
She tugs him down to her for another passionate kiss as the next song7 begins.
Lucy shakes her head when they finally come up for air, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him back toward the bench. She pushes him down into a seated position, dropping to her knees in front of him, situated between his legs.
"Lucy —" he weakly attempts to protest as she works to undo his belt, and then the zipper and fly of his jeans.
She ignores him, instead choosing to join in with the vocals playing overhead. Something about the way his gaze darkens as the words escape her lips tells her she's made the right choice.
He doesn't put up a fight when she motions for him to lift his hips so she can pull his jeans and boxers down his thighs.
His cock springs free, more than ready for what she has planned.
She licks her lips, her eyes sparkling mischievously as Tim gazes down at her in utter disbelief. He presses his eyes closed, wondering just how badly he's going to embarrass himself when he comes as soon as she touches him.
F*ck. How is it even possible to be this turned on?
She presses a soft kiss to his tip, the tinge of her red lipstick staining his skin. A brand. A mark of territory. A sign of ownership. It doesn't matter which. She can have whatever she wants.
Her tongue flicks out to capture a tiny bit of pre-cum glistening on her lip before she leans down to collect what's left directly from the source. F*ck.
She works her tongue up along the underside of his shaft, pressing a bit harder as she approaches the head, in exactly the right spot. F*ck.
He collapses back again the wall. Stars. He's seeing stars.
And when she finally takes him into the welcoming warmth of her mouth, he is completely gone. Lost in pleasure and how strongly he feels compelled to give her everything. Anything she could ever want. Because there is no possible way he'll ever be able to catch up. To meet her capacity to give and love and care.
He cradles her face with his hand, brushing his thumb tenderly over her cheek before pushing her hair back behind her ear. He allows his fingers to tangle in the silky strands but doesn't guide her or apply pressure. This is all her, and she quite obviously doesn't need any help from him.
He reaches his other hand down, the soft warmth of her breast in his palm making him that much hungrier to touch more of her, to please her like she's pleasing him. He settles for working her taut nipple between two of his fingers.
"Lucy," he warns hoarsely as he approaches his climax, reaching down to stop her from completing another torturously delicious stroke down his length
She smacks his hand away for possibly the thirtieth time that night, before settling her palms back onto his thighs and sliding them upward in time with the bob of her head as she takes his length back into her mouth. His head falls back against the wall as he releases into the perfect wet warmth of her mouth. And he can feel the pleasure of it thrum through his entire body; it feels so incredible he's shaking
And god, it should be illegal to feel this good. He dazedly watches her throat work as she swallows and he slides his hand appreciatively along every part of her that's within reach — her shoulder, her arm, her chest. He wants to be as close to her as possible. Feels almost desperate to try and make her feel as good as she just made him feel, though truly he's not sure it's possible.
Her eyes meet his as she finally pulls back, and he moans as she licks her lips before running her fingers around her mouth to clean up, a slight reddish smudge of her lipstick the only evidence that remains.
He reaches down to tip her chin up, tenderly brushing his thumb over her skin to clear away the bit of color.
He's still struggling to remember how to form words. This — all of it — has been completely unreal.
The playlist ends and the room goes quiet, and even as he is reaching to pull her up off of the floor and into his arms, she is pulling further away.
He groans, attempting to reach for her. "Where are you going?"
She laughs, and it sounds strange in the now silent room. "Show's over, Bradford."
She feels suddenly, inexplicably shy and raises an arm to cover herself, which doesn't make a lick of sense given the eye [and hand] full he just got.
But it's different. That had been part of the show (okay, maybe a tad bit more than what they were technically assigned), but it had been like playing a role or playing a game. Like it wasn't actually her.
This — whatever is actually happening between them outside of the forced exercises and the show — it's suddenly feeling very, very real.
She leans across him to retrieve her discarded robe and can feel herself flushing as he follows her every move with his eyes.
She doesn't regret a thing. She hadn't exactly planned for things to go as far as they had — but his response to her — seeing how into this he was, how into her he was — it made her want to take things further.
He's just been so damn good to her since they've been back in LA. And then yesterday — seeing him do something so far out of his comfort zone, something he viscerally didn't want to do, just to make her happy — it made her want to give him something back, to make him happy.
And she's not upset so much as she is overwhelmed — at how strong the attraction and chemistry is between them, at how strong her feelings are becoming — strong enough that she's heaping blow jobs and lap dances on a man she swore she wouldn't let ever touch her again less than a month ago.
And things are going so fast — too fast. And yet they aren't going fast enough because all she wants is to get even closer and it is terrifying.
She feels him come up behind her as she secures the robe.
He slides his arms around her and nuzzles his face into her neck, and she feels a wave of comfort wash over her.
"Are you okay?" And of course he's this tuned in to the slightest shift in her emotional state when he should be basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. What an idiot.
She nods, turning to face him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Yes," she says simply into his chest.
And she is. She really is. Some part of her might be terrified and overwhelmed, but a bigger part of her is happy and more than content to just enjoy this moment with him.
She angles her head back to kiss him but he beats her to it, squeezing her tighter against him as his lips capture hers.
"That was unbelievable, Lucy."
She laughs. "Don't ever say I'm not a benevolent dictator."
He snorts. "I do have one complaint, though…"
She pulls back so he can see how interested she is in his feedback. Not even the slightest bit interested.
"The main event — it felt a little unbalanced."
"Mmm… good try, Bradford. But you're gonna have to show me more of those moves if you want to get into these panties again."
His groan reverberates through the studio. "Never again, Lucy. Never again."
