“Why?” I whimper, allowing myself to relax into it and enjoy the feeling—albeit softer than I’m used to—that I haven’t in what feels like an eternity.
“How does it feel?” he whispers to me, my skin shrouded in goosebumps at the rasp in his voice. It’s almost like I can feel him on top of me.
“It feels…” I don’t know how to describe it, so I don’t. I finish my sentence with a moan, my legs spreading wider. I let the vibrations focus on my clit with a little more pressure. “Turn it up,” I tell him with a sense of urgency, needing this to happen, needing my body to crumble at the hands of him, even though he isn’t physically here to do it himself.
“No,” he replies, his voice stern. “Not until you admit that you want me as badly as I want you.” There’s silence, and the only thing I hear is the weak noise coming from between my legs.
I can’t admit that because it would be a lie. I’m not ready to tell him I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Instead, I reply by repeating his word, “No,” and give a subtle shake of my head, not that he can see. But it’s to drive the point home for me more than it is for him, and the vibration stops, right as I’m beginning to climb. “What happened?” I jolt upright, suddenly completely aware of the surroundings I had let myself get lost in.
“Let this be another reminder, Snow, that your orgasms belong to me. You come when I say you come. Not with your old toy, and certainly not with your new one. You will come with the help of my hands, my mouth, and my cock. The sooner you understand that, the better for the both of us. Do I make myself clear?” There’s slight humor in his voice. But it’s serious, and firm, and my hand glides down my thigh, fingers spreading my lips slightly.
“Crystal clear,” I tell him with a slight tremor in my voice. I hate that I mean it.
The phone beeps, telling me he’s ended the call, and I try to finish the job, I really do. But I’ve become too dependent on something I no longer have, and it’s fucking killing me.
Sitting up on the couch, I gaze around my lounge room and kitchen to weigh up my options, until I finally decide to pick up my underwear from the ground, slide them up my thighs, and head back to the Grangewood Grocer.
At least I can put one of his gifts to good use.
Chapter twenty-two
Cole
“You’ve been on fuckingfire this last week, bro,” Tate says to me as we walk side by side toward my trailer. Mara and I just finished shooting an intimate scene, and we had the attention of everybody in the room.
Well, everyone, aside from Jenna. She had her back to us while sweeping up hair clippings from off the ground.
If she’d been watching, she would have seen that Mara’s and my lips never touched—not even a slight graze.
I guess that’s the beauty of acting and working different camera angles. They can make shit look real without you actually needing toperform.
“I guess I have a good co-star,” I tell him with a shrug. Mara is fantastic at her job. There’s no denying that. But it’s also very obvious that she’s trying to do everything in her power to force my attention onto her. And while Jenna and I aren’treallyanything, Mara thinks we’re together.
The whole set does.
Still, she’s adamant on claiming me as her own. It tells me everything I need to know about the type of person she is.
She tried to turn our intimate scene real, attempting to reach for me in places that she had no business reaching for, but my cock doesn’t want her.
He remained limp with each and every attempt.
“Good is an understatement. That woman is a fucking goddess.” His phone beeps in his hand, and he opens the notification while still deep in conversation with me. “I have a feeling her management is going to want you guys to put on a little show for the press. So whatever you have going on with the hairstylist, shut it down.” He shoves his phone into his pocket and rips open my mini fridge. Taking a bottle of water out, he drinks it all in one go.
I shake my head. “I’m not doing that.” I fetch my own bottle of water before I take a seat on the black, leather couch next to my fridge.
“I thought it was all a ruse? A little joke between the two of you? What would it matter if you switch it up a little, go for the girl the entire country is expecting you to fall for?” he says, taking a seat beside me.
“What does it matter? Fake or not, I don’t want to pretend to be with Mara. She already tries to fuck me when she thinks I’m dating someone else. I’m not interested in pretending to want someone like that.” I screw the cap back on my water bottle, scrunching it between my hands and throwing it into the bin. “This film is the most talked about movie of the year, it doesn’t need anymore hype.”
“Leave it with me,” he says, pulling his ringing phone out of his pocket before he walks out of my trailer, the door just missing him as it slams shut.
I told my brother that Mara was the reason I was hitting all my scenes in one take. That having an excellent co-star was thereason I was doing everything exactly how it was expected of me, but that’s not at all true.
Something I’ve realized about myself this week is that I thrive while watching people squirm. And Jenna Rogers has done nothing but that every single time she’s in my presence.
When I deliver a flirty line from the script, my eyes immediately flash to her, and she blushes.
Whenever my character compliments Mara’s character, I wink at Jenna when the camera isn’t on me.
