Page 22 of Praise Me: Lumberjack
“Of course not. It’s just a concept. He’s…huge, while you’re so dainty.”
I’m trapped between two inclinations. Not wanting to formally introduce my lumberjack to the world, because he’s mine and mine alone. While also desperately wanting something to remember him by when I go back to Los Angeles. “Will you take some pictures with me, Penn?” I ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Please?”
A line ticks in his cheek. “You think I can say no to you?”
“No,” I sing, biting my lip playfully, feeling his sex rise even more beneath my backside. Throbbing in his jeans. “He doesn’t need makeup. He’s perfect exactly how he is.”
“Fabulous,” says the photographer with noticeable enthusiasm, backing down the steps of the trailer. “I’ll go let lighting know.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m staring down into the engine of the car, bending forward to inspect the machinery with my hands perched above me on the edge of the hood. I’m highly attuned to my body and its positioning, now that Penn is standing in the near distance, holding the chainsaw he retrieved from his truck.
“Oh, this is incredible. Like a classic horror film. He’s coming out of the mist to claim his sacrifice. He’s never seen such beauty in all his life and he must possess her.” The photographer adjusts his angle. “Come closer, Penn. Look at her. You’re going to drag her back to your lair and possess her. You must satiate the beast inside of you. Oooh, rev the chainsaw.”
Penn does as he’s asked, and I react appropriately, gasping, seeing my pursuer for the first time. I slam the hood shut, intending to sprint for the driver’s side of the vehicle, but Penn is too fast and now I’m flattened face-up on the hood of the car while Penn looms above me, his jaw tight as he leans over me, inspecting my breasts like they’re merchandise, his hands closing around the curves of my hips.
“Oh wow,” my manager says, albeit reluctantly.
“This is gold on film,” enthuses the photographer. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Penn whispers to me.
“Do what comes natural,” I murmur back, molding my hands to his pecs, as if to push him away, but he wrestles my wrists higher, pinning them above my head and causing my back to arch. Growling over me, his hips wedged between my bare thighs. “Good,” I whisper. “They want the world to know I’vegrown up. I want the world to know I can do more than drop one-liners on a sitcom.” I tease his lips with mine. “You’re helping me do that in a way that finally feels safe. You makeeverythingfeel safe.”
He looks down into my eyes. “You make everything feel perfect.”
“Penn,” I whisper, skimming my knees up his sides.
“That’s the shot! Yes! Perfection!”
“Need to fuck soon,” Penn pants, dropping his face into my neck “You’ve got me so stiff in your little bathing suits, baby.”
“Would you rather come in my mouth or my pussy, Daddy?” I whisper.
“Jesus Christ.” He grits his teeth on a violent shudder. “Please. We need to stop before I cram it in right here in front of all these people.”
“That would definitely make headlines,” I murmur.
“Now, little girl,” he growls into my ear.
“We need a break!”
CHAPTER 10
Penn
This time, instead of returning to the makeup trailer, I carry Jenna to her pink, designer one, trying with all my willpower to be gentle with my girl. Not easy to do when I want to throw her onto all fours in the dirt and fuck her like the sky is falling.
Would you rather come in my mouth or pussy, Daddy?
Those words bash the insides of my skull like stormy ocean waves.
It’s not only her body I need with burning desperation, but also her precious company. All to my selfish self. Her job is to be an actress and apparently to model little cock tease bathing suits while bent over the hood of a fucking car—and I don’t disapprove of her profession. I won’t tell her what she can and can’t do.
But apparently, I will grow steadily more jealous the longer she’s focused on other tasks. I will get agitated by not having her to myself. The kind of agitated that makes me agree to be partof the photo shoot, just to be close to her. Just to get my filthy hands on her delicious curves. I want her smile all to myself. I want her body in my possession. I will put up with her showing it off a little, as long as I’m present. The supple swells of her ass could spark world peace. Her tits could make men believe in God. I don’t have the right to keep the sight of them from people—she’s the one who decides how and when she weaponizes her body. But I only have a certain length of rope—and right now, it’s about to snap.
When we reach the top of the stairs, she tugs on the handle.
Nothing happens.
