by Cara North
“Yeah, but I like that view.” He rolled to his side and watched her get situated. She was blushing. It had been a while and he had not made her follow through on the masturbation deal, until now. “Now reach and let me see your fingers on the outside of the panties.”
“Kinky much?” she tried for humor.
“I am today.” He shrugged as he propped up to enjoy the view. “Okay, now lean down farther, move your knees, yes, like that, now show me.”
“Like this?” She began moving her fingers over the panties.
“Yes.”
Soon enough she was less embarrassed and more interested in the act. She tugged and pulled at the panties after her hand had slipped beneath, but they were annoying her so she stopped, removed them, and then went back to her position with a frustrated growl.
“You need help?” he teased.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He obliged her by pressing a finger at her slick opening. She pushed back on him with a moan of pleasure. It was starting to get difficult to remain aloof in this situation. He wanted to watch her, he wanted to play, but the longer it took for her to find a rhythm, to make herself come, the less patience he had. “Frankie, have you really been using the vibrator?”
She didn’t say anything. His eyes widened and he pulled his finger out and insisted, “Turn over and look at me.” When she did he asked, “Have you?”
She shrugged. “Not at first, but yeah, lately.”
“How many times do you come with that thing?” He was curious.
“Do you mean just come or do you mean really come?”
“Is there a difference?” He moved to cover her with his body and she greeted him with open arms and legs.
“Yes. I can come hard about three times, but I can get little arcs afterwards up to…four more.”
“Seven?” Jonas sat back. “Seven times? Damn! Okay then. That’s settled.”
“What is?”
“I have to go for eight.”
“You don’t understand…”
“No, you don’t understand. I will not be bested by batteries. I am taking back what is mine.”
***
And he did, with a vengeance. At some point Frankie was sure she would just pass out. He tormented her. She had come hard more than three times, but her over sensitized clit was on convulsive autopilot. He had seven. She had nothing left to give. She was as limp and sated as she had ever been in her life. Finally, after a long fought battle, he situated himself for entry. He had brought her off by hand, by mouth, but not by fucking her. Until now. The delightful intrusion of his cock into her engorged flesh brought a whole new onslaught of electricity.
He groaned, she was sure he wasn’t going to last long. He was high on his victory and he had been waiting for this moment a long time. It combined to throw them both into a second wind of energy.
He was gentle at first, testing, working, then harder, faster, until Frankie remembered what she had been missing. The feel of him this deep, this connected, she lifted her leg at an angle and he hit just right, like he always did. He was sweating, exhausted, and by the look in his devilishly handsome eyes he was about to come. “Give me eight.”
He pressed his fingers to her clit and within seconds she came. Violently, shivering, a moan tore from her throat in the form of his name. She could see the sparks, the darkness, he had done it again.
Frankie felt his finger trace the bridge of her nose, his voice called, “Frankie. Wake up.”
“You knocked me out.” She smiled.
“Yes. I. Did.” He grinned. “I didn’t even need help from the headboard this time.”
She giggled.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Enough to have my babies?”
She nodded. She also wondered how many he had in mind.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. He pushed up and rolled out of the bed. “Do you want a sandwich? I’m starving.”
Chapter Fifteen
Three months later…
Frankie had been nuts. There was so much to do in preparation for the trip to London. The director wanted to get some shots on location to accurately portray the weather or something. Frankie did not know, nor did she care. They were almost a year into this thing; most of the first movie was completed, except for these new scenes they wanted to add. Frankie had revamped some of his online presence. Taking a cue from Ivy, she had fought and claimed his name on the main social media outlets and had started posting information for him that his true fans would appreciate and that the rest would learn to live with.
He was racking up followers daily and she didn’t mind responding or sharing positive things his followers said about him. That little bit of interaction meant a lot to people. In addition to getting Jonas electronically straightened out, she had signed on to help Jonas’s mom plan Janice’s baby shower. In her world prior to Hollywood this might consist of ten to fifteen friends or a party at work where everyone brought a gift and ate cake on their lunch break. Not so in this case. There was an entire venue rented out for it and more than a hundred people on the guest list.
This break she was taking wasn’t really a break. It was a last minute meeting he had asked her to attend with him and then they would grab lunch afterwards. For three months she couldn’t tell if she was coming or going, but she could pinpoint his every move and kept people he was accountable to and for happy.
As predicted, he missed the meeting, but made it to lunch.
“Hey,” he leaned over and kissed her. “How did it go?”
If he wasn’t the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen she might have been able to muster a look of frustration. As it was, he looked great, happy, like he was up to something.
“Good, I have to read through the contracts, but I think you will be happy with what they have in mind.” She pulled out her datebook and started flipping through it. She had three calendars: her phone, her datebook, and the one on the desk in the office. She kept them all synchronized, but the old fashioned planner she held in her hand was still her favorite.
Maybe it was because she had flipped to four months ago she noticed the personal symbol on the page. It reminded her of something she forgot she needed to keep track of. She turned the page as he ordered drinks and food for them both. She turned another page, and another.
“I’m late,” she looked up at him.
He looked at his phone on the table and said, “For what? I don’t have any reminders set.”
“It’s not something I had an appointment for.” She smiled.
He tilted his head, stared at her a few moments and said, “Really?”
She nodded.
“Damn!” He crossed his arms and sat back against the booth. They were eating at his favorite Italian restaurant. The one that sent a flush of memories through her any time she went to the ladies room.
“What?”
“I’m already being upstaged.” He laughed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smiled at him. He was definitely up to something.
“It took me a while to get this. I would have given it to you earlier, but I had to decide and then get it made.” He reached into his pocket and slid a box across the table. “You already made the commitment. I just thought you might want one.”
She opened the box to find a ring. Not a diamond ring, a band that looked like a sliver of a book. The script, in tiny print, read, Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
“Wuthering Heights.” She loved it instantly.
“I just thought this was more…you, us, you know?”
She couldn’t help it, “Are you proposing to me?”
“Again?” he quirked a brow.
She tried to think of when he proposed to her the first time. He did talk in his sleep the longer the work days had become. May
be he dreamed it.
“Again?” She teased as she slid the ring on her finger.
“You said yes. I asked if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me and you said yes. I thought that meant yes.” He frowned at her. “You didn’t have a problem saying yes you wanted a sandwich and then eating it.”
“What?”
“You don’t remember?” he looked a bit hurt.
“I do. I do remember. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you, to have your baby…”
“Babies, plural,” he reminded her.
“Babies,” she clarified. “But I didn’t know you wanted to marry me.”
He nodded. “I can see where I might have needed to clarify.”
He smiled. She moved from her seat across from him to slide in next to him. He moved to allow her room. “This ring is beautiful, it is perfect, and I would love to spend the rest of my life as your wife, the mother to your children and at least until the baby arrives as your personal assistant.”
“I don’t want anyone else running my life.” He pushed her hair behind her ear. “It’s been going really good since you took over.”
She laughed, “I do love knowing your every move.”
“Every move?” He bit into his lower lip. His eyes sparkled.
“Yes,” she nodded. “And you should know, because you should always know, I’m not wearing underwear.”
“Go lock yourself in the bathroom. I’ll be there in two minutes.”
Epilogue
A month later…
Shay was just happy to be there. Frankie and Jonas had invited her to the wedding. She was happy for them. She was earning her place in Frankie’s life. It was easy to do once Shay stopped trying to be someone else. Harvey had done that for her. He broke through her bull-shit. He made her deconstruct every part of her life and rebuild it. She was his last client. His last project as he called it.
Her agent was really his son, who would be taking over the family business now that he had earned it by turning her into a viable actress. He did that by making her stop pretending in real life. Some people get addicted to drugs, alcohol, and other substances. She was addicted to an image. It took longer than a normal rehab program to get her off the bitter pills of life she swallowed by the handful. She was free, but lonely. Damaged, but recovering. Successful, but not yet a star, and for once, that was all okay.
“Hi,” Jed Gunner said in that rich voice of his as he leaned against the wall next to her. “Friend of the bride?”
Shay nodded. He was stunning. Same blue eyes the family seemed to pass on genetically, but Jed was older, wiser, and darker. A warm feeling ran through her veins causing her to shift a little on her six inch heels.
“I’m Jed,” he extended a hand.
“Shay,” she replied and accepted it. The rough texture was softened by the grip and careful way he held on to it a moment longer than necessary. The energy between them pulsed. Something unexpected was happening.
They stood there silently, awkwardly. He leaned against the wall and looked out at the crowd. He glanced at her a couple of times, she knew because she made no attempts to disguise her look towards him. He smiled. She smiled. He lifted off the wall and with a tone that made it sound obligatory he said, “Do you want to dance?”
She shook her head no. She wouldn’t mind talking to him. She loved the way his timbre carried on the air, caressed her like a touch. She wasn’t wearing dancing shoes tonight. She hadn’t expected anyone to ask her.
“Thank God!” He grabbed his chest with such relief she had to giggle. “I was afraid you would say yes. Do you wanna get out of here?”
She nodded her head yes. Shay looked over to the happy couple and realized they were consumed with each other. This could be the biggest mistake of her life. Somehow, looking at him, the way he was looking at her, she didn’t think so. Harvey had told her to trust her gut more. She decided tonight was a fine time to start. “Where to?”
“I like the beach.” He looked down at her. Shay stood five-five on bare feet. She didn’t look him eye to eye even in the heels. He was a large man. About Jonas’s height, maybe an inch taller, but he had a broader shoulder, or maybe it was just a larger presence.
“Then I guess I don’t need to walk in these heels.” She tugged at the strap on the back of one as she lifted it, then the other. She held the shoes in her hand, it shrank her height considerably.
He laughed and nodded his approval. “Let’s go.”
Read more about Shay and Jed in The Director
Don’t forget about Ivy, look for her in Get a Grip