“I’m very put out that you won’t tell me who keeps texting you,” Kevin said. There was no mistaking the pouting tone to his voice.
I watched Lucien silence his phone and sit upright, his gaze sliding over me with the barest contact. “I told you, Kevin, it’s nothing important.”
Ouch. I’d be hurt if I thought that dismissive tone and statement were true. Lucien was a damn good actor.
Next to me, Lizette Pond—the producer—droned on about budgets and cutting back on the scale of the film. I should have been contributing, but I was consumed with thoughts of Lucien. Of the way he’d tasted that morning. The fine, golden hairs that dusted the small of his back and the way they caught the sunlight. I was drunk on him still.
“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” Kevin asked.
The briefest hint of a smile crossed Lucien’s lips. “Definitely animal.”
Last night, I’d edged Lucien without letting him use a ball gag, and after, had to apologize to old Mrs. Schumacher across the hall for the screams.
“Male or female?”
Lucien licked his lips. “Male.”
“Older or younger?” Kevin’s questions to Lucien were growing increasingly demanding, but I trusted Lucien to handle it.
God, I was the worst sort of director, preying on one of the young stars in my latest film, but in truth, we both had plenty to lose. He had to trust that this was more than an on-set fling with the potential to ruin his career. I had to trust he wasn’t using me to get ahead.
It was Hollywood. It happened.
Back hallway. Fifteen minutes. I typed the text with one eye on the screen, nodding at whatever Lizette said. I’d probably regret whatever I’d agreed to, since she was constantly attempting to gut the budget of my film, but at the moment, I didn’t care.
I slid the phone into my pocket and a minute or so later, pressed send. I hoped. I’d gotten pretty good at the technique in the past few weeks. On the floor in front of him, Lucien’s phone buzzed quietly.
He reached down to silence it and I cut Lizette off. “We’re going to break for twenty. Lizette, we can finish this conversation after rehearsals. When we get back, I want to start at the top of the scene.”
I stood and walked past Lucien, so close the fabric of my trousers brushed his upper arm. “And, Lucien, for the last time, silence that phone. I’m getting sick of telling you that.” He’d been ordered to leave it on.
I was the worst sort of sadist, setting my sub up to fail. But we both enjoyed the so-called punishments.
“Yes, Sir.” His tone was deferential enough to please me, but not enough to arouse suspicion.
I sauntered away, threading through the maze of hallways to reach the secret spot where Lucien and I met occasionally. I sent him another text as I walked. I slipped a little something into your bag while you weren’t looking. I expect it to be in place. Clock’s ticking.
With two minutes to spare, Lucien arrived, pink-cheeked and breathless.
“Good boy,” I murmured after I checked to see if he’d followed instructions. I pushed him to his knees and he needed no direction after that. We had to be quick.
I closed my eyes as his mouth moved over me, wet and warm.
I never saw the person waiting just around the corner, in the shadows.
I am afraid this is another one where the plot bunnies ran rampant. Who’d like to read more of this?
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I look forward to seeing you next Monday!