6
ADRIANNE
I would win over Lee Wynn if it killed me.
Getting back to set after everything that happened in my trailer, I threw myself into the scene, and while he sneered at me, Lee allowed us to move on to another scene that we could film on the sound stage. The bigger fights would come later, on location, but all of the tight shots could be done immediately.
No matter how I focused on my scenes, though, I could feel Ethan at my back. It was comforting and wholly distracting all at once. I couldn’t really see Ethan. It wouldn’t be professional to look for my bodyguard in between every take, but I got glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye, and it bolstered my courage.
“That’s a wrap for today, people!” Lee barked finally, and I took my first proper breath in hours.
I returned my costume, and the hair stylist helped me to remove the forty-seven bobby pins from my hair. As I was crossing the sound stage afterward, Lee was yelling reminders at the production staff for the next day. “And you” -he pointed at me as I walked by- “had better tighten it up.”
He turned to walk away, and I knew that I should just accept what he’d said and move on . . . but I couldn’t.
I put my shoulders back the way Ethan had told me. “Excuse me, Mr.
Wynn?”
He turned. “What do you want?”
I took a breath and steadied myself. “You and I are going to be working together, and I’m excited for that. You’ve always been one of my favorite
directors, but you will not speak to me again the way you have today.” Lee crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” I said. “I refuse to work for someone who berates me. If I’m doing something wrong, by all means, do your job and direct me, but you won’t insult me. If you do, I will call my union rep, and I’ll allow them to hash this out with the production company.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, I turned and walked to where Ethan was waiting for me.
A grin stretched his face, and he looked more boyish that way. A huge, mountain-sized boy.
My eyes raked over him. He’d touched me, but I hadn’t so much as seen him naked, and I wanted to. Badly. “Badass, Ms. Montoya,” he said as I approached.
“I was simply setting healthy boundaries, Mr. Mercado.”
He put a hand on my lower back as we walked off the sound stage. That small touch felt like wearing armor. Like I could do anything, so long as this man was at my back.
When we got outside, there was a nondescript black SUV waiting for us. Callan rolled down the back window. “If you make a Mean Girls reference, I am officially revoking your man card,” Ethan called out, and from the way Callan bit his lip, Ethan had hit the nail on the head.
Ethan walked me around to the other side of the car and opened the door. “Thank you,” I said to him. I leaned up for a quick kiss before I climbed into the back of the SUV with Callan. Foster was behind the wheel. “What have you boys been up to today?”
“We have your security plan worked out,” Callan said. “Your production company was . . . not happy about the brick incident. They want you safe.”
Foster scoffed. “They want to keep their investment safe.”
“As long as Adrianne is safe,” Ethan said as he climbed into the passenger seat beside Foster. “It doesn’t matter why they’re working with us as long as they are.”
I agreed. I didn’t care about their motivations. I just wanted to be safe . . . and I wanted to keep them safe. While we drove through the quickly dimming dusk, I felt the barest of touches against my thigh. I looked down, and Callan was running his fingertips across the mesh cutout of my yoga pants.
Heat spread through me. How can one touch set me off this much?
Even though Ethan had told me that I didn’t have to choose among these men-that I could have whatever I wanted, if I would just ask for it- I still felt hopelessly confused. My body had never reacted like this before, on such a hairpin trigger.
The fingertip turned into Callan’s hand, rubbing the top of my thigh, and a shudder ran through me. “What are you doing?” I whispered to him.
Callan largely ignored me, but his hand didn’t move. “What’s it like on the sound stage?” he asked Ethan. “Any issues we need to cover?” His fingers inched their way between my thighs so that they played along the inner seam of my pants.
“It’s a big box,” Ethan explained. “Not terribly difficult to cover. The trailers in the back lot will be more of an issue.”
Callan’s hand slid upward, and his pinky played over the split between my legs. I gasped, a little too loudly, and I bit down hard on my bottom lip. “What’s with the trailers?” Foster asked. They were all so casual. My heart pounded against my ribs almost painfully.
Maybe they hadn’t heard me, I thought.
I glanced at Callan. There was the faintest smile on his face, the tiniest hint of a smirk that revealed that he knew just how much he affected me. Two can play at that game. I parted my thighs, giving him better access, and I heard the click of his throat.
“The trailers are close together, but there’s a lot of places in between where someone could hide. The trailer itself isn’t a problem, less than 300 square feet, and not a lot of room to maneuver.”
Ethan and Foster kept on discussing the logistics of guarding me at work, but my focus was on the hand between my legs. Callan leaned down and murmured in my ear, “You’ve soaked through your pants.”
Knowing that he could feel how wet I was made things low in my abdomen tighten in anticipation. “What are you going to do about it?” I whispered back. I tilted my head back so that I could look at him.
“Careful, Princess.” He pressed his finger more firmly against me. Although there was a layer of fabric between us, the pressure made me moan softly.
Foster and Ethan stopped talking, and a heavy silence fell over the car. “What if I don’t want to be careful?” I asked, and the sound of my voice, quiet as it was, reverberated in the hush of the SUV’s cab.
Callan made a soft noise in the back of his throat and then slid his hand up and under the band of my pants. His fingers touched my bare pussy, and I bucked into the touch, eyes slipping closed. “You aren’t wearing panties,” Callan murmured.
Ethan glanced over his shoulder. “She was earlier,” he said, voice thick. I had an idea that Ethan and Foster were listening in, but seeing Ethan turn around like that bowed my back just as much as Callan’s soft, teasing touch. Callan tsk-ed at me. “Naughty girl, getting rid of your panties like that,”
he murmured in my ear as his finger teased my clit.
I gasped, needing him to touch me. “So wet for us.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet now, and the tension in the car was almost tangibly thick. Callan’s finger circled my clit more firmly now, and I whimpered and threw my head back against the headrest.
Every time he played his finger over that sensitive bundle of nerves, my stomach tightened. I felt like a wire that was continually being pulled tight. Callan moved his hand lower and pressed that finger inside me, and I let out a sharp yelp.
“Please,” I breathed out, hips riding his hand as if they had a mind of their own. Despite the orgasm that Ethan drove me to in my trailer earlier, I felt starved with the need to come again. The more they touched me, the more I needed them to touch me.
“Please what, Adrianne?” Callan asked.
“Don’t tease her, Cal.” This was from Foster. His voice was like gravel. I looked at the rearview mirror and knew that he was watching me when he could. “Make her come.”
Callan crooked his finger and pressed that spot that sent stars scattering across my vision. “Impatient,” he muttered, but it wasn’t directed at me. It was strange, seeing them like this.
I grabbed his arm, bringing his dark eyes down to me. “Please fuck me, Callan,” I whined.
The two men in the front seats groaned, but my eyes were locked on Callan’s. He dipped his head down and kissed me, soft and searching and in total contradiction to the sudden, harsh rhythm that he built with his fingers.
He touched my clit with his thumb and circled it, and I flew over the edge, muscles clamping down around him as I came. I slumped against Callan’s side, panting, and Foster said, “Good. Now make her come again.”
I looked up at Callan with wide eyes. “Is he serious?”
He smirked, and his hand started working against me again. Overstimulation and pleasure that was almost too much roared through me, and in what felt like seconds, I was coming again. And then a third time.
The pleasure was sharper and too much now. I couldn’t go again. I pushed at Callan’s arm weakly, and he finally released his grasp on me.
“Think she’s done, boys,” Callan said before he sucked his fingers into his mouth.
At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised by anything. My whole life shifted on its axis in such a short period of time, but watching Callan enjoy the taste of me on his fingers made my stomach squirm.
He must have sensed me staring at him because he looked back down at me. “What’s wrong, Princess?”
“It’s been less than two days,” I said, “and I feel comfortable with you all.”
“Why does that sound like a bad thing?” Callan asked. He rubbed his thumb between my eyebrows. “You’re frowning.”
I sighed. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just . . . unusual for me.”
Ethan glanced over his shoulder at me. “Unusual how?” I knew that he was thinking about the conversation we’d had in my trailer.
“Normally, it’s hard for me to . . . enjoy myself,” I said and tried to ignore the heat that crept up my cheeks. “I honestly didn’t know that I could.”
There was silence. Then, Callan asked, “What do you mean?”
I wanted to wrap my arms around myself. Maybe fall into a hole. “I’ve dated,” I said. “I’ve had sex. I’ve even had orgasms before. I’m not unused to any of those things, but usually, my partner gets more out of that part of a relationship than I do.”
“How often have you been left to take care of yourself?” Callan prompted.
He sounded so serious, and I missed his smile. I reached up and touched his mouth, tracing his frown. His lips puckered and kissed my fingertips. “Tell us.”
I shrugged. “More often than not,” I said. Truthfully, if I had to think of the last time a man had made me orgasm-before now-my memory would be fuzzy.
The men fell quiet around me, but the cab was full of tension. I had a feeling that they were angry for me, but they didn’t need to be. I had
accepted that part of my life, and it wasn’t as if I had never enjoyed sex before. There was nothing to be mad at.
“It’s fine,” I told them. “It’s really not that big of a deal. I don’t know why I even brought it up.”
Callan tilted my head back and kissed me. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I moaned at the taste of myself. He drew my bottom lip between his and bit down gently. “Whoever made you feel like it doesn’t matter that you weren’t 100 percent enjoying yourself should face the worst tortures imaginable,” he said. “Any man who can’t meet his woman’s needs shouldn’t have one.”
I snorted. “Okay, that’s archaic.” I pushed up so that I was sitting on my own. He was still near, a warm weight at my side, but I didn’t want him looming over me. “I’m my own person,” I said.
“Of course, you are,” Ethan said with a scoff. “That’s not the point Callan was trying to make.”
“Then what was his point?” I hated the snippy tone in my voice, like if we were standing, I would have stomped my foot or something.
“That you’ve been treated poorly in the past,” Callan said, pressing a kiss to my neck, “and I hate it because you deserve so much more than that.”
I wanted to roll my eyes-what he was saying wasn’t any less archaic than before-but the sincerity of his voice got to me. “I don’t want to be unfair to my exes,” I said. “They weren’t mean or abusive or anything.”
“But tell us about one who took care of your needs.”
It was the way he said it that got my guard up. I don’t need anyone to take care of me, I thought. “I do just fine at taking care of myself,” I said and knew that it sounded as stubborn to them as it did to me.
None of the men were happy with that response. “How often do you take care of yourself, Adrianne? Seriously? Or do you just forget about it until you practically snap?”
Well . . . shit. I hadn’t thought about it that way.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d touched myself. When things got busy, masturbation was usually pushed to the back-burner. “It’s not a big deal, anyway,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Trust me, Princess,” Callan said, “it’s a big deal.”
“Why?” This time, I wasn’t being petulant. I was genuinely curious.
Until it was something that couldn’t be avoided, I generally didn’t think about sex or orgasms. Until meeting the men seated around me, that was. “Just because you all can’t imagine a day without-”
“We’ve gone plenty of days without,” Ethan cut me off sharply. “Trust me.”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t mean to imply anything,” I said, but that wasn’t necessarily the truth because I had meant to imply that they just couldn’t control themselves like I could. “I’m sorry,” I breathed out. “I’m embarrassed, and it’s making me petty.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” Callan asked.
“Besides the fact that you just got me off in front of two other men?” I asked and tried to shrug him off, but Callan wouldn’t allow it. “I’m not used to being so attracted to someone . . . let alone several someones . . . so quickly.”
“You said that before,” Foster pointed out. I was almost startled at the sound of his voice. He hadn’t said anything since he’d demanded that Callan wring as many orgasms from me as possible. “Are you worried about your image?”
Bingo, I thought miserably. “In general, I’ve been good about staying out of the public eye,” I said. “I don’t want to invite any scrutiny of my private life.”
“We wouldn’t want that either,” Ethan said. “We wouldn’t want to play any part in hurting your career.”
His words helped to ease some of the tension in my chest, but before we could discuss it further, we were pulling up to my neighborhood.
Foster didn’t have any trouble getting through the security gate.