Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I think so. Are they waiting for you onset?”
I smirk, laughing gruffly. “They can wait all they damn want.”
“I guess you’re sort of a big shot, aren’t you?”
Oh.
My balls grow even heavier, my muscles even tauter when a tiny note of sass comes into her expression.
It’s in the quirk of her eyebrows, the way her lips twist as though she’s trying to mirror my smirk.
It fades quickly, and her gaze drops.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
You don’t have to be sorry. You never need to be sorry. But if you really want to make it up to me, get on your knees and open that pretty little mouth wide, and get ready to show me how badly you want everything I have to give.
“How old are you?” I growl instead of voicing my repressed thoughts.
“Eighteen,” she whimpers. “But I’m turning nineteen in a few weeks.”
A voice hisses in my head that she’s too young. I’m forty-three, so that puts twenty-five years between us. She’s not even old enough to drink yet.
But the primal deep down part of me doesn’t care about that. It only knows that I have to take her, have to fuck her hard and deep until that pink glistening slit is brimming with my come until there’s so much of it, it gushes down her thighs. Making those round ass shimmer for me, as I’d slide my hands up and over her legs, spreading it over her ass cheeks.
“Why?” she asks a moment later.
I stare at her for a long moment, almost blurting out all these insane feelings rushing through me.
But then I turn. I walk away without saying another word.
I don’t trust myself to stay.
She’s too goddamn magnetic. That’s what she is. She draws me to her. She’s reshaped my whole worldview in the space of five minutes.
That’s dangerous. I need to be wary. I’ve never acted on emotion, never let myself be led by desire.
But that’s the thing.
I’ve never desired anyone like I desire my woman.
My woman.
She’s already mine, always mine, forever.
I push open the door and stride across the lot, returning to my set.
Chapter Three
Bria
The next few days are the busiest I’ve had in a long time, rushing around set jumping to Maximillia’s every command. I help mostly with the extras, making sure they have the correct outfits and that any costumes are repaired. I also start work clearing out the warehouse, which is such a mess because Maximillia ordered a whole heap of stuff from a bunch of companies.
“If they give you a budget, use it. We can always sell the rest. Or give it away. Or burn it.”
I’m fascinated by her, by how confident and blasé she is. Pride whelms in me when I watch her compose an outfit. She often changes little things here and there, when she gets the chance. But mostly we have to stick to what the characters have already been wearing.
That’s how I found out that the costumes I chose for Braden and his men are going to be the costumes for the whole movie.
“You just let me pick?” I gasped when Maximillia told me, as she texted on her phone, thumbs going a million miles per hour.
“Yes, yes I did.” She grinned over at me. “I suppose it was a little naughty of me. But I wanted to see what you were made of. That interview you gave, Bria, the passion you showed. Do you remember what you said?”
“I was so nervous. I barely remember a thing.”
“You said that a costume can reflect an inner essence. An inner essence. The phrase stuck with me.”
I return to that conversation again and again as the days collapse into each other and I hang around set.
My costumes are going to be on the big screen, in multiple scenes, in most scenes.
“Is that the only reason?” I asked, shaking my head as disbelief fluttered through me. “That’s a really, really big responsibility.”
She leaned forward, a manic glint in her eyes. “Some of these Hollywood types look down on people like you, like us – people who weren’t born rich. Especially men like Tyler Poe.”
I nodded. I’ve seen Tyler around set, of course. He’s Braden’s co-star and a real douche, with his blonde quaffed hair and that way he has of looking at people like he owns them, like they’re his servants.
“He made a comment about the orphanage program,” Maximillia said, “so I let you pick all their costumes.”
I almost asked her what comment, but I didn’t want to know. I’ve had enough comments hurled at me over the years, mostly in high school by bullies who delighted in my parents’ deaths for some twisted reason.
As I ride my second bus to my rent controlled apartment block, I think about him.
I think about the him I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since he charged into the warehouse with that sharp look in his eyes and that smirk on his lips.