Page 94 of Unscripted

“You need to stop touching me all the time,” I whispered as I fluffed up my pillow and tried to get comfortable. I was lying on my side, facing him, but had left a wide gap of space between us.

“Oh, do I?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Yes, you do. I . . . ” I trailed off. I wasn’t sure exactly how to finish that sentence. The thought of expressing to him just how much I physically needed him had me retreating inward. It was too intense, too embarrassing to willingly bear that part of myself to him.

So instead of telling him that I was so horned up I wanted to cry, I simply said “yes” again and buried my head into my pillow.

I could hear Callum softly chuckle next to me. Instead of doing as I had so kindly, in my opinion, asked, he did the exact opposite. He wiggled closer and draped his arm across me, rubbing my back up and down in soothing motions.

“What's wrong?” he whispered. I could feel his warm breath on the top of my head.

I peeked up at him. It was either tell him and get it over with or try and fall asleep with another case of blue vajayjay. I must have really been in deep because instead of listening to the small, insecure voice in my head shouting at me to close my eyes and go to sleep, I looked up at Callum and whispered the truth.

“I’m really horny,” I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth, and I realized that I had actually said it out loud, I turned my face back into the pillow and buried it even farther.

This place will be the death of me.

Callum, to his credit, didn’t balk. He didn’t laugh or dismiss me out right. The only sign that I said anything remotely out of pocket was his hand stilling on my back for a fraction of a second before continuing its movement. It was as if I hadn’t said anything at all.

I was about to roll over and try to forget this whole moment ever happened when I felt his hand drift lower down my back and around to my stomach.

I stilled. It felt like I was vibrating with raw desire, and I was so afraid that he would move his hand away, that he would stop its slow descent, that I didn’t move a muscle. Not even as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, ever so softly, “I think I can help you out with that.”

I almost came then and there, his words flooding through me and his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

I wanted to ask him what he was going to do but as I turned to do so his hand swooped lower, grazing the band of my sleep shorts.

I froze again but this time peeked up at him.

He was grinning like an idiot. It was so hot.

“Just tap my hand when you’re about to finish,” he said.

I didn't have time to question him or say anything else because he quickly—so quickly I was wondering how he did it—slid his hand down my pants.

He kept going, getting closer to my sweet spot, his fingers on a slow, torturous descent. I was squirming so badly I had to clutch the sheets between my hands to steady myself.

The anticipation of what would happen next nearly sent me over the edge. Then, Callum’s fingers found my clit and the world around me shifted into hyperdrive.

Oh, he was good.

His fingers circled around, applying pressure. I felt suddenly insatiable; like I would never be able to get enough of his touch. My hands continued to grip the sheet below me, and I kept my head pressed into the pillow, afraid that if I moved, I would make a noise I definitely would not want broadcast on national television.

Callum moved his body closer to mine, covering me so that to anyone else, to the cameras recording our every move, it would simply look like we were cuddling.

The reality of what was happening under the covers was decidedly less sweet. I pressed farther into him, indicating that I wanted more. That I needed more.

So more he gave. He slipped two of his fingers inside of me while his thumb pressed against my clit, pumping in and out while rubbing me at the same time.

It didn’t take long for the fire that had been building in my stomach to reach a full-blown inferno. I tapped Callum’s arm, letting him know I was about to finish.

He, in return, rubbed me even harder, faster, until I was seeing stars. Until my back was arching up and into him, and I was coming on his fingers, grasping at him while trying to keep my head pressed into the pillow to cover the sound of my moans.

I was vaguely aware of Callum having a coughing fit above me. Coming back down to earth, I turned to look at him.

As if on cue, he stopped coughing.