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“Your idea was pretty fucking hot, and it’d be a shame if you only got to see it once. Also, your shower is perfect for it.”

My lips curl into a wicked grin. “Well, if you’re going to go through all the trouble of filming and editing it, share it with your subs.”

She keeps rambling. “You won’t be in any of the shots… I totally understand if you don’t—Wait, what? You’re serious? You want me to?”

I don’t know what to make of this. I’m surprisingly into this, and I’m certainly not going to unpack why that might be right now because my dick is only getting harder.

“Yes, film it. Share it with your subs. I’m sure you’ve been getting behind on content since you’ve been busy with me, and I’m feeling generous.”

Her lips part in a gasp. “Sylvester Sterling. Are you telling me you like to share?”

I shake my head, pulling her tight against me and forcing her to look right into my eyes.

“Never in a million fucking years, Bunny. But they can watch because none of them will ever have a front row seat like this. None of them will ever know what your face looks like when you come. None of them will ever know what it feels like when your perfect pussy clenches down around me or how you taste.”

CHAPTER 33

JOSIE

Spit Roast

Filming content has always been something intimately personal for me. I only film solo content. I plan out my shoots, thinking about what I’m going to say. I take my time setting up my equipment, depending on the angles and transitions I want. When I’m finished filming, I do my own editing. In every way, it has always been just me.

That’s why the rush I get from hastily and frantically setting up in Sly’s shower is both unexpected and welcome. I didn’t know what it would be like welcoming anyone—much less Sly—into this part of my life. Frankly, it’s something that never entered my mind before. But as soon as we finished our post-hike shower, Sly could hardly keep his hands off me while I mounted the waterproof camera to the bench and set up the ring light inside his shower, finding the right position.

“Stay on the bench, Sly. Keep your hands to yourself… or else.”

“Or else, what?” he rasps, looking at me like he wants to devour me whole. The smoldering heat in his gaze makes me consider abandoning my plan to film this, and instead climb into his lap and ride him.

“Or else, neither of us is going to have any fun. I need you to stay on that bench, or else you’re going to get in the shot,” I scold him playfully.

“Fine.”

“Good.” I lock eyes with him and grin. Besides our labored breathing, the only sound in the room is the steady stream of water droplets hitting the tile floor. I extend a hand to him while the steamy, hot water flows over me. “Now, be a good boy and hand me Octavius.”

He grabs the thick silicone tentacle from beside him on the bench, and holds it in front of him, tilting it side to side to inspect it. When he drags his callused fingertips over the rows of suckers, my pussy throbs thinking about how good he is at working my body with those hands.

In fact, my whole body is buzzing from watching him play with my favorite toy. I knew this would be a turn on for him, but I didn’t expect it to be such a rush for me.

“I can’t believe you’re going to fuck yourself for me to watch,” he growls, and I can hear the urgency in his voice.

I arch a brow. “Not if you don’t stop playing with that.” I gesture with my empty hand, and he pouts like I told him he can’t keep a stray puppy before finally handing Octavius over to me.

Grabbing the toy, I press the base against the shower wall at the right height. Once I’m convinced the suction cup base is firmly secured, I turn and face Sly.

“Is that what you had in mind?”

He nods eagerly, but it’s what I see when my gaze drops to his lap that tells me he’s already enjoying this as much as I am. His hand is gripping his cock so hard that I lick my lips because I love seeing this man melt for me.

“You’re sure you’re okay with me filming this?”

“Bunny, please, for the love of god, stop teasing me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.” The desperation in his voice ratchets up the coil of tension that’s been building low in my stomach.

“Okay.” I lean forward and bring my lips to his, kissing him. Pulling back, I whisper, “Stay where you are, and you’ll be out of the camera.”

This feels so different—so heated—compared to any time I’ve ever made content. The groan he makes when my tongue scrapes his teeth is pure bliss. I wish I was already recording because I could get myself off on that sound alone. When I break the kiss, I see the wanton desire in his hooded gaze, making me wonder if that’s what he looked like when he would watch me. Considering I don’t know if this is anything more than a likely ill-fated fling courtesy of my van breaking down, memorizing that sound and that look might have to tide me over.

I bring my finger to his lips. “No talking.”