Becky waved Amy away. “That’s fine,” she said, examining her hair and makeup in the mirror. She could do her own makeup, but they could afford to hire someone to come in on taping day, and the extra money her former classmate earned allowed her to hire a part-time person in her salon. “I think I’m done. Why don’t you see if Ford needs anything?”
Amy met her gaze in the mirror. With an understanding look, she patted her on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Go on television with Ford week after week to sell sex toys and not jump his bones. It must take nerves of steel.”
Becky turned and made a beeline for the rack of dresses the owner of the new downtown boutique had sent over for her. Three hung facing out for today’s tapings. “Ford and I are business partners.” She fingered the multi-colored silk she planned to wear during the nipple-clamp show. When she’d tried it on, the fabric had skimmed her curves in a gentle caress reminding her of the way Ford had touched her face, soothing away the pain and stealing another piece of her heart.
“I’m just sayin’, you two are H.O.T. on screen together. It’s no surprise your toys are selling like hotcakes.”
“Sex sells.” Becky fell back on her standard answer.
“Remember, the blue dress first then the pink block print. The watercolor silk is last,” she said. “No one would blame you if you hooked up with him. You know that, don’t you?”
No. She didn’t know any such thing. She’d been on the wrong side of the grapevine before, and she didn’t want to be there again. “This is business,” she repeated. Maybe if she said it enough times, she’d begin to believe it herself.
“Whatever you say, girlfriend.” She opened the dressing room door. “I’ll check on Ford, then take a break. Text me when you’re done with the first show. The pink is going to require a few changes in your makeup to keep you from looking like a clown.”
Becky waited until she heard the door close behind her friend before she allowed her knees to buckle. Business her ass. She was ass-over-teacups in love with Ford Adams and up to her ass in trouble. If the chemistry between them before convinced people to buy their products, what would happen now? In the past, she’d only imagined Ford helping her test the products she endorsed on each show. Last night, they had tested all three of today’s featured products—together, and thoroughly. Putting her experience into words, sharing it with the viewing audience? She shook her head. She couldn’t pull it off. Everyone would know she’d slept with the man.
She yanked the blue dress off its hanger. A sedate sheath, it combined business appropriate with understated sex appeal. From the assortment of costume jewelry, courtesy of yet another shop recently opened in town, Becky chose a string of chunky pearls and a matching bracelet. To complete the look, she slipped on a pair of nude-tone heels provided by the new shoe store. All would be listed in the closing credits in return for their generous donation. Afterward, everything she wore would be sent to a charity in the county seat set up to help abused women escape their circumstances and find jobs to support their families. Adams Manufacturing had hired several from the program and hoped to hire more.
No matter what she had going on in her personal life, the business she and Ford were building was making a difference. Butte Plains had grown. Closed-up shops were reopening as new enterprises. People were moving in, not out, for a change. Ford hadn’t mentioned selling or moving in months, but had he noticed the changes in his hometown? He seemed to spend all his time in his office or at home. Even when his friend Scott visited, they rarely hung out together.
A knock sounded on her door. Becky took one last look in the mirror then turned to answer. Ford leaned against the doorjamb, looking like he’d stepped off the pages of GQ. His smile was as wicked as ever, but a new, darker flame burned in his eyes as he raked his gaze over her from head to toe. “Lordy, you could make a flour sack look sexy, Becky Jean.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated southern accent and pseudo compliment. She stepped out, shutting the door behind her. “I’ll take your hillbilly remark as a compliment and ignore the fact you just called a very expensive dress a flour sack.”
“I did no such thing,” he protested, following her down the hall to their new studio. “The dress is gorgeous, but no one could wear it the way you do.”
She stopped in front of the studio door and turned. She put her hand up to keep him from bowling her over and it landed on his chest. Before she could move it, he trapped it with one of his own. “Last night was special, Becks.”
She tugged on her hand, but he wouldn’t let go. “I’m not saying different, but we can’t do it again. We shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But we can’t undo what’s done, and I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Don’t pretend, Ford. Forget. It’s what I’m going to do.”
She pushed down on the door handle, leaned hard against her shoulder, and the heavy, soundproof door moved inward. With a fake smile plastered to her face, she greeted their recently hired crew.
Well, shit. Ford let the door swing closed in front of him. He’d hoped Becky Jean would have had a change of heart since she’d heaved him out her back door without so much as a good-bye kiss, but clearly, she hadn’t. She seemed determined to act as if nothing had changed between them, when he knew different. Everything had changed.
He straightened his tie and shot his cuffs. She thought she could shut him out? The woman had another think coming.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, entering seconds behind his co-host who began to rearrange the products on the display. Justin gave him a thumbs-up as Ford took his place on set. The young man had risen to the challenge of expanding from one live show to taping multiple shows in one day. He played an integral part in their rapidly growing television network, too. They’d be lost without him as neither he nor Becky Jean knew much about the broadcasting world.
“Ready when you are.” Justin looked up from his clipboard. “I’d like to get done early today, if we can, so let’s try to do these in one take, if we can.”
“Not a problem.” By ditching the live broadcasts, they’d gained the ability to edit the shows, which could be a good thing, but not when it came to Becky Jean’s candid responses to the things he said and did to provoke her on set. The less retakes today meant less opportunities for her to edit out what he knew would sell the product. “It’ll be like the good ’ole days when we were live.”
Becky Jean glared at him as she took her spot beside him. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed at him.
Ford arched one eyebrow and grinned at her warning. Today’s shows were going to be the best yet. Now that he knew her body intimately, he had every intention of using his knowledge to arouse and fluster her to the point everyone watching would want what she was getting. Which meant sales would go through the roof.
Justin held his hand up, fingers spread to tick off the seconds. “We’re rolling in five, four, three, two, one.”
“Good evening, folks. I’m K. Ford Adams and this is B.J. Parker.”
Becky smoothed the multi-colored silk over her hips, refusing to look in the mirror again. Why hadn’t Amy returned with the nipple cover-up patches she’d sent her for? No one would see Becky’s soaked panties, but everyone would notice her headlights were on.
She absolutely hated her inability to control her physical responses to Ford’s touch, and Lord, did he know just how and where to touch her. Thanks to the night they’d spent together, he knew every erogenous zone on her body, and he’d proved in the first two shows he wasn’t above using his knowledge to embarrass her. Justin had even stopped taping in the middle of the second show to adjust the lighting to account for the color in her cheeks. She doubted there were enough filters in the world to counteract the shade of red she would turn when she had to endorse the nipple clamps Ford had used on her.
Damn, they’d hurt, but he’d distracted her through the worst of it then used the pain to give her the hardest orgasm of her life.
She’d run the experience over and over in her mind, searching for the words to convince their viewers to give the tiny little torture devices a try, and come up empty.
Ford won’t have any problem coming up with the words. He never did. Fans of the show ate up his sexy-as-hell confidence. The more he made her stammer and sputter, the more products they sold. Parts of their shows were viral sensations, shared over and over again on social media with comments about his hotness and how lucky she was to be his co-host.
Someone tapped on her dressing room door. “We’re ready for you, Ms. Parker.” She recognized the voice of the young woman they’d recently hired to assist Justin.
“I’ll be right out, Kiley.” Becky forced herself to take one last look in the mirror. She made a mental note to order a lifetime supply of the little nipple concealing patches as soon as possible, but for the time being she’d have to pretend her nipples weren’t standing up like traffic cones.
All eyes turned on her the second she walked through the door to the set. Holding her head high, she took her place beside Ford then nodded to Justin. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.
“Good evening, I’m K. Ford Adams, and this is B.J. Parker.” Ford launched into the familiar intro on the director’s signal. “Last time we introduced you to the Safety First Restraint System, designed to allow you complete access to your partner’s body while keeping them safe and secure. As you’ve heard us say on every show, our products are meant for you to enjoy in the context of a SSC relationship—Safe, Sane, and Consensual.
“Still, you have to be a little bit crazy to want to try the items we have for you tonight, isn’t that right, B.J.?”
The way his voice dropped when he called her by her on-air nickname reminded her of the way he said her name when he had his hands on her, stroking her to climax. Her cheeks heated and her sex throbbed. “Yes, you do, Ford, but if used responsibly, the Safe and Snug Nipple Clamps will provide you with an experience like no other.”
Ford splayed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to stand behind the display table. “You sound as if you speak from experience, B.J. Tell me, have you tried the Safe and Snug Nipple Clamps?”
She could do this. She swept her hand over the display, praying the cameras would follow the movement and zoom in on the product while she spoke instead of her flaming face. “Yes, Ford, I have tried them.”
He picked up a set identical to the ones he’d used on her the night before and held them in his palm for a close-up. They looked tiny in his hands, but when they’d bit into her nipples, she’d thought a merciless giant had a hold of her. Realizing her real thoughts were not a selling point, at least not to her, she decided to keep her mouth shut. Let him sell the damn things.
“They look so delicate,” he said, flicking the tiny bells hanging from them. “I’m sure the viewers would like to know more.” Ford replaced one of the clamps on its display card then held the other between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing to make the jaws open much like he’d done before placing the first clamp on her breast the night before.
Becky’s heart raced, and her knees trembled in tandem with her lower lip. Remembering the searing pain she’d experienced, she barely contained the squeak forming in her throat. “I imagine these would hurt like the devil,” he said, his voice dropping lower and taking on a darkly sensual tone that had her clenching her thighs together. She tore her gaze away from his hand, then wished she hadn’t. The carnal hunger she saw in his eyes robbed her of speech.
“I didn’t know you were into pain, B.J.”
“What?” She gave him a questioning look and shook her head. “No. I’m not.”
He pinched the tip of his little finger with the clamp, grimacing under the pain. “Ouch! You put these on your nipples?” He removed the toy and gave his hand a dramatic shake.
“Well… I didn’t… I mean—”
“Ahh, I understand. You didn’t do it yourself, someone helped you.” His wicked grin told everyone what they’d done.
Embarrassment ratcheted her body temperature up to flaming. No light filter in the world could compensate for the color in her cheeks.
“Yes,” she said, fixated again on the clamp he snapped open and closed.
“I suppose it would make a difference, having someone there to take your mind off the hurt.” He clamped his little finger then traced the digit down the length of her arm, leaving a wake of gooseflesh behind. “Did he take your mind off your nipples, B.J.?”
“Yes.”
“And did the pain go away?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No?” he asked, feigning surprise at her answer. He’d been there, knew the pain had never gone away, just changed.
“It didn’t go away… just became different… less pain and more an ache I felt everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” No one with hearing would mistake his one word question, not with the way his gaze dipped low.
She wanted him more than she wanted her next breath. Her nipples were hard as diamonds and probably casting their own shadows under the harsh studio lighting. She grasped his wrist before he could draw another line down her arm with his torturous toy. It was time to turn the tables on K. Ford Adams before he reduced her to a puddle of hormonal goo in front of the world. She brought his hand up between them and removed the clamp. She licked her dry lips first—a warning—then flicked her tongue over his aching pinky—a reminder, she hoped, of the way he’d prepared her nipples before clamping them. “Yes, everywhere, Ford. I wish I could explain the feeling better, but any woman who’s been distracted by her lover will understand the concept of heightened awareness. You feel as if you’re walking a high wire—all your senses are engaged. You’re tuned in to every cell in your body. Tense with expectation.”
She dropped the clamp to the display table and selected a larger version. She licked his finger one more time then, gaze locked on his, affixed the clamp to it. His nostrils flared and his eyes grew dark. As subtly as possible, she shifted so her stomach brushed his erection below the display table.
“Then you’re taken out of your world into another one where there is only you and your lover and the exquisite pain of need.” She held his hand between both of hers, stroking her thumb over his palm while she spoke. “You know the feeling, don’t you, Ford?”
She knew the look on his face. She’d seen it last night, right before he came. Since she couldn’t very well have him coming on set, she lowered her eyes, breaking the invisible connection between them. She turned to the camera. “Any words I could use to describe the sensation of wearing the clamps would pale in comparison to the actual experience. I will say this, wearing them is only half the fun. The other half happens when you take them off.” As the words left her mouth, she removed the clamp on Ford’s finger. He let out a yelp and tried to yank his hand from her grasp. She held on, massaging his pinky and palm while he dealt with the pain of blood rushing back into the tip of his finger.
She faced the camera with a smile. “The Safe and Snug Nipple Clamps are best used with Safety First Restraint System. Remember, Safe, Sane, and Consensual.”
She smiled until Justin yelled, “Cut,” then she dropped Ford’s hand and stormed off set.