“No.”
“Have it your way, then,” he growled.
He moved so quickly that I didn’t have time to blink before his belt was off and I was on my stomach. Tying it around my wrist, he attached the other end to the bedpost before grabbing my ass and kissing it.
“Damon, don’t—”
“Then wear the dress.”
“D—”
Before I could reply, his palm connected with my ass, sending shivers up and down my body. It hurt so good.
He didn’t stop there. He continued until I couldn’t handle it anymore.
“FUCK! DAMON…ah…” Rubbing my thighs together, I fought against his belt, trying to break free.
“There’s my girl,” he laughed, kissing both of my cheeks and even giving one of them a small bite. I felt the wetness slide down my thighs, my pussy throbbing with need. “Now, wear the dress.”
“Fuck you.”
SLAP!
“AH! Fuck!” he hit me so hard, I came, gasping.
“So soon, baby?” he teased.
“Go … screw yourself.”
He snickered. “I’d rather screw you—but not before you beg me to.”
He got off the bed, walking toward the bottle of champagne we had ordered with our breakfast. Lifting the bottle, he drank straight from it, watching me as I struggled and wiggled to get free, amused with himself. He reached in the ice bucket and grabbed a block of melting ice and placed it on the top of my back.
“Oh—” I shivered as it melted on my skin, the icy water slowly dripping down my spine. How could something so simple turn me on so fucking much? No matter how much I tried not to think of it, I couldn’t. The water dripped down the crack of my ass.
“Are you cold?” he questioned. I wasn’t sure if I was shivering from the situation or the ice anymore.
“Yes,” I answered, preferring the latter of my two choices.
“How about this,” he whispered, taking one of the scented candles from the bedside table.
“Damon—ahhh, fuck,” I gasped when the wax dripped onto my back and ass. There was no way to describe how it felt to go from one extreme to another. All my senses felt like they were being overloaded, and my pussy throbbed with need.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Blair, baby, you’re shaking.” His voice sounded even sexier, filled with the promise of relief if I gave in to him. “You want me this badly.”
Noah.
“Da—mon!” I moaned when he cupped my pussy, pinching my clit.
“I wonder what you taste like on my tongue,” he said, putting the candle to the side. He licked up my thigh to the source of my wetness. He didn’t just lick—he sucked. He latched on to my pussy and drank me in.
“That … that oh … feels so good.” I could feel his tongue as it licked the lips of my pussy before entering the folds and going deeper in me. The more I grinded into his face, the deeper he went, and just as I was about to lose it, he stopped.
“No … please,” I pleaded.
“Please what? Beg me, remember?”
“Please fuck me,” I gasped. “Please, I need you.”
“I win,” he replied, and I felt his cock press against my pussy, rubbing far too slowly for my own liking.
“Damn it!” I cried out in frustration as I tried to free my hands.
“Patience, baby,” he replied and instead of fucking me like I wanted him to—like I needed him to—he stopped so that I could say my last line as if he had entered me.
“Jesus—”
“Has no place being here,” he said, snickering and biting the tip of my ear.
“Cut.”
God fucking damn it all to hell.
I tried to control myself as he undid the ties around my wrists, and when I sat up with my back to the cameras, he put a sheet over me.
We both sat on the bed trying to breathe.
“Amelia, that’s all we need from you. Noah, we still need the shower scene.” Director Zane was the only one to speak. Nodding, I rose from the bed, taking the sheet with me.
We’d noticed during these takes that everyone was silent but the director, and I wasn’t sure if that was because the director told them to be or because they weren’t sure what to say to us after watching us “pretend” to go at it like animals. However, with each scene, Noah and I were blurring the lines between acting and reality. I had to stop myself from calling out Noah’s name instead of Damon’s more that a few times.
Chapter Ten
Amelia
When I got back to Noah’s—our—suite, Ollie was leaning against the door, his head down and arms crossed.
“Ollie?” I said.
He glanced up, his face tired. But he still put in an effort to smile as he kicked away from the wall and stood up straight.
“Done with your scene?” he asked.
“Yeah, they still wanted Noah, so I figured I’d take a shower and call it a night.” He never stayed for the sex scenes, and I couldn’t blame him. “Is something wrong?”
“You mind if we talk for a second?” He moved from the door to allow me to open it.
“You’re scaring me, Ollie,” I joked, swiping the key and entering the dark room. I had to feel around the wall for a second before turning on the light.
The suite had been cleaned since we had left in a rush early this morning. Ollie took a seat on the tan couch, right in front of the mahogany coffee table, waiting for me to sit down as well.
This was serious.
“Ollie—”
“I want to start off by saying you did nothing wrong, Amelia,” he sighed, sitting on the edge of his seat when I sat down across from him.
“It doesn’t feel that way,” I responded.
What is happening?
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. His eyes shined as though he was fighting back tears.
“Ollie—”
“I remember when you first came into my office, Amelia,” he smiled wistfully, lifting his hand a little bit above his knee. “You were so small, but I swear I saw this giant in you. You didn’t even know who the hell I was, yet you smiled so wide I thought your face was going split in half. Your mother and I both knew you’d be an actress. But you were so young I thought it best to start you in commercials and ads first. You breezed through them and wanted to do everything. I remember you hated the taste of chunky peanut butter, but the moment the director said ‘action,’ all of the sudden you were shoving a spoonful into your mouth. Some kids can get away with just being cute, but not you, Amelia. You had pure talent. Everyone could see it.”
I felt my throat close as I stared at him. “Ollie, I don’t like where this is going.”
“Neither do I.” His hand covered his mouth. “I’ve been with you your whole career—hell, your whole life—and I love you as if you were my very own flesh-and-blood daughter. It’s for that reason that it’s time I retire, and it’s time you get a new manager.”
“Ollie, I don’t want a new manager!”
“Just because you don’t want it doesn’t mean you don’t need it,” he replied, and it hurt that he could just walk away. “Part of me knew this would happen when I got the script for Sinners Like Us…I had to fight with myself, Amelia. I didn’t want to give it to you. You were desperately looking for a new role. You have the talent, and I didn’t want you to take the script because I didn’t want to see the girl I saw as my daughter in those scenes. I was acting like your father and not your manager.”
“But you gave me the script. Everything is fine. At the end of day, you always do what is best for me, Ollie.”
“That’s why I’m doing this, Amelia,” he threw back at me. “You are not the same girl—woman—you were a few weeks ago. And that isn’t just because of Noah Sloan. A few days ago, I watched, in total awe, as you didn’t eat or sleep until you got justice not only for Noah, but yourself. You did what you wanted, what you thought was best for you, without asking me or second-guessing yourself, like an adult. I’m proud of you, Amelia. You need a manager that works for you, does what you need, not what they think is best for you. You don’t need me parenting you.”