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ADRIANNE
I was going to go to prison. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I was going to murder Ryan Jacobs on camera and end up in prison for the rest of my life.
When we came back from lunch, Ryan had arrived on set. I had been so excited to work with him. He had an amazing reputation, and his movies were box office gold.
He also thought that he was God’s gift to women.
“You are much more gorgeous in person than you are in pictures,” he said as we waited for Erin Brock, the intimacy coach, to arrive. The crew was buzzing around, putting the finishing touches on the bedroom set.
I blinked at him. “Thanks, I guess.”
Ryan beamed at me. If not for Ethan, Callan, and Foster, I would have found him attractive. He was conventional Hollywood gorgeous with a strong jaw and nice eyes and a body that had been sculpted by the best trainers money could buy. He was lauded as a sex symbol in the tabloids . . . but he fell short of my men.
“Lee showed me some of your rough shots from earlier,” he said. “They were good. You’re going to be a powerhouse in a few years.”
He sounded more surprised than complimentary, and I ground my teeth and looked for Foster and Callan, who were sitting off to the side, perfectly visible to me. My shoulders unwound a bit. Luckily, I was spared from any further attempts at small talk when Lee brought over a small, grey-haired woman to us.
“Ryan, Adrianne, this is Greta Sharpe. She’s your intimacy coordinator.”
Greta smiled, and it instantly reminded me of my grandmother, and I smiled back automatically. “Hello. It’s good to meet you both,” she greeted. “Shall we go find a comfortable place to chat?”
We settled in the chairs that the hair and makeup crew used. Greta had Ryan and me sit near each other so that we could look one another in the eye. I’d just as rather not, I thought.
“So, you may be thinking that I’m here to help you craft a love scene,” she began, “but that isn’t what an intimacy coordinator does.”
I thought that was entirely what she was meant to do. “So, what is your job, exactly?” I asked.
Greta turned those kind eyes to me. She was big on eye contact. It would be unnerving if not for that comforting smile. “My job is to make sure that no one is uncomfortable during any scenes that are intimate in nature. We’ll agree on what we are all comfortable with before we ever get in front of the camera so that we all know what to expect.”
Where was she on my first rom-com?
“You’re the panty police?” Ryan asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. “That is exactly why I’m glad she’s here,” I snapped.
“Wha-”
I looked at him, and like Greta asked us to do, I made sure to catch his eyes with mine. “She’s here to make us feel safe, and you made a snide comment. How is that helpful?”
Ryan had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t think about it like that.” Shocking, I thought. He didn’t apologize for his comment, but he did turn back to Greta and actually pay attention to what she had to say, so . . . it was a win in a way, I suppose.
“The characters you’re portraying have a very intense relationship. They love intensely before it sours as Ryan’s character becomes a villain. I want that to be shown in all of your actions, so we need to create some boundaries so that we’re all comfortable.”
Greta walked us through the scenes in which Ryan and I had any sort of touch that wasn’t fighting-that was the fight choreographer’s job-and the number of times he was going to put his hands on me was shocking. There was only one love scene in which we were meant to roll around on a bed, but Greta had mapped out every time in the script that he was going to touch me. It was a little overwhelming.
“So, look through the list,” she said, “and if there’s anything that you simply cannot do, let me know.”
She handed us each a piece of paper containing all the “intimate acts” that Lee wanted in the movie. It was all standard, kissing and the like, but there was a marked difference between “kissing” and “open-mouthed kissing”. I raised an eyebrow at that.
“Some people don’t mind faking a kiss,” Greta explained, “but open- mouthed kissing is something that they reserve for their intimate partners.”
I smiled at that, but Ryan scoffed. He reached over and touched my shoulder. “I’m sure Adrianne and I can work out the kind of kissing between the two of us.”
Greta gave him a hard look. “No,” she said simply. “We’ll work it out together now before filming starts.” I could have cheered. “Now, are there any objections to our list?”
I looked at it again. “I don’t want to be topless,” I said and handed it back to Greta. “I understand that I need a bare back for the camera, but I don’t want my breasts on display to any of the cast or crew.”
Greta made a note. “I can make that happen,” she said before turning to Ryan. “Anything that you would like to add?” Ryan shook his head, and she clapped her hands. “All right, I will inform Lee that we may begin filming. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, we will stop and revise, yes?”
We both nodded, and Greta left us to talk before we started filming.
Ryan sulked. “You’re seriously going to be covered up the whole time?” I cocked my head. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”
“Come on!” He was practically whining now. “One of the perks of this job is getting to see beautiful people half-naked. You get to see my chest. Why shouldn’t I get to see yours?”
I crossed my arms over said chest. “I don’t want to see your chest. I’m sure Greta would be happy to make sure your nipples are also covered for our big scene.”
I stood, ready to go check in with Foster and Callan and recharge before Lee called for us to begin, but he snagged my arm. “You’re single, right?” Ryan asked.
Trying to be as subtle as possible, I pulled my arm out of his grip. “Whether I’m single or not isn’t really the point. I don’t know you well enough to be naked around you.”
Ryan smirked at me. He was the kind of guy who was used to getting what he wanted. His smirk practically broadcasted that I’m so charming. You should totally trust me vibe. “So, does that mean if we get to know each other, I can see you naked?”
Someone cleared his throat behind me. it was Callan. I didn’t have to look to know.
“Can I help you?”
“Ms. Montoya, are you all right?” Ms. Montoya? I turned, and there was a look on Callan’s face that I had never seen before.
“I’m fine, Callan,” I said and offered him a tentative smile that he didn’t return. Shit, I thought. Clearly, he was upset, but I couldn’t talk to him the way I would if we were alone. “Seriously, Cal,” I said, lowering my voice a little. “I’m okay.”
He nodded and stormed back to Foster. They leaned into each other, whispering. “They seem intense,” Ryan remarked. “What company did you hire?”
“Mercado,” I said, eyes still snagged on my men. Ryan whistled. “Hardcore team. Everything okay?”
When I turned around, I was a little surprised by the real concern in his voice and face. “Just some overzealous fans,” I said with a shrug.
“That’s the worst,” he said, but then he smirked. “But it can be the best, too.” Ew, I thought and turned away before he could see the look that I was sure was on my face. “Are you seeing either one of them?”
“No,” I said, even as I wanted to scream yes. “Ethan Mercado is serious about keeping things 100 percent professional.”
“Shame for them.” He leaned in. “Better for me, yeah?”
I wrapped my arms around myself and centered myself for a moment. Then, I said, “We’re here to make a movie. I’m not looking to date or hook up with a co-star. Is that going to be a problem?”
Ryan studied me for a moment, but his smile never faltered. “I’m not looking for a relationship either.” Of course, that’s what he would hear, I lamented. “Let’s just-”
“Adrianne! Ryan!” Lee called. “Let’s get started!”
We walked back to the set, and as we crossed the space, Ryan wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I tried to shrug him off, but he held fast to me. Lee’s face lit up when he saw us. “Let’s walk through the dialogue and see
if we need to bring in the choreographer. Greta will be here to ensure that your boundaries aren’t breached.”
It didn’t escape my notice that the last bit sounded a little forced. Greta had to be a company hire. Lee probably wouldn’t have allowed her within a mile from the set if not. Even though I’d only been working with him for a week, it wasn’t hard to see that he was a bit of a control freak. I looked at Ryan.
“Do you actually know the dialogue?”
He scoffed. “I’m a professional. Don’t worry about me.”
While meeting Ryan Jacobs was largely underwhelming, working with him was a different story entirely. As soon as he was “on,” Ryan became a different person. “Marcia, I’m worried about you,” he said as his character, Dr. Harris Rutledge. “You’ve been different ever since the accident.”
“I’m fine, Harris,” I insisted, falling into the ‘Dr. Falconi’ character. The last week of living in the ornithologist’s shoes made me appreciate her as a person. She was a woman who was struggling with secrets and the burdens of expectations. I could relate to that. “You worry too much.”
Ryan reached out and touched my face-an allowable gesture, according to our agreement. “I worry just the right amount when it comes to you, Marc.”
“I’d like a kiss here,” Lee said, breaking into the moment. Ryan’s hand immediately dropped from my face, which I appreciated.
“I’m game if you are,” Ryan said to me. “It’s adding to the script, but it would be a good place for one.”
I could see the logic in it. “Okay,” I agreed and glanced at Lee. “Can we go from the top?”
Lee nodded. “Please do.”
We worked that way for another four hours, picking our way through a love scene until Lee turned on the cameras. Kissing Ryan as a person was perfunctory, but on camera, when we watched the playback, even I had to admit that we looked good together.
“I think that’s enough for the day,” Lee said. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow.” Lee put a hand on each of our shoulders. “Great job.”
“Thanks, Lee,” I said. Leaving on a high note was a new thing, and I bade Ryan a quick goodbye and made my escape to Callan and Foster. Neither looked happy. “Are you both ready to go?”
Foster’s jaw flexed. “I think we left something in the trailer, Princess,” Callan said gruffly. “Mind if we go check?”
“Sure.” On the walk to the back lot, Callan peeled off and rushed again, so that when we got to the trailer, he motioned for us to come in right away. He’d already done the initial check. “What could you have possibly lost in there?”
Foster’s chest was suddenly glued to my back. “Why don’t we go inside?” he asked, voice pitched low for my ears alone.
My heart began to thud. “Okay,” I breathed and stepped up the few steps to where Callan was waiting. He was a solid wall in front of me. He pulled me against his chest and dipped his head to kiss me. While Callan fed at my lips, Foster stepped into the trailer behind me. I heard the door slam shut, and then he was a heat against my back.
My body tingled with acute awareness. Foster’s lips brushed the back of my neck, and I whined against Callan’s mouth. “Breathe, baby,” Foster said in my ear. “We’re going to take good care of you.”
Callan pulled back. His face held arousal and need, but there was something hard in his eyes as well. I reached out and touched his cheek. “What’s wrong?” I asked. Foster gave me a little breathing room. “Callan?” He didn’t want to meet my eyes but did anyway. “I didn’t like watching him kiss you,” he admitted, ashamed. “I wanted to shout that he didn’t have
a right to touch you like that because you’re ours.”
Ours. The word made me shiver. “It’s just a job,” I reminded him. “I didn’t enjoy it.”
“We know, Princess,” Foster said, kissing my shoulder. Even through the fabric of my shirt, I felt the touch like a brand. “We were so proud watching you.”
“I wanted to punch him in the throat every time he put his mouth on you.”
I chuckled. “I may have liked it if you had.”
Callan’s smile faded around the edges. “Why? What did he do?”
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I assured him. “He’s a typical Hollywood actor.”
Foster snorted. “That’s not inspiring much confidence, Princess.”
I shrugged and leaned back against him, allowing him to hold me. “It was nothing that I wasn’t already used to,” I said. “Nothing that I can’t handle.” I reached up and threaded my fingers through the blond strands of
Foster’s hair and pulled his mouth to mine. His hands snaked around me as we kissed and shifted up to cup my breast.
When another, slightly bigger, hand cupped my other breast, I gasped and turned away from Foster’s seeking mouth. Callan grinned at me. “You up for it, Princess?”
Up for it? “What do you mean?” I gasped when both of their hands found a nipple. They were synchronized, practiced, and realization hit me. “Both of you at the same time? You would . . . do that?”
Callan laughed in an entirely arrogant, male kind of way. “What did you think we meant when we said that we liked to share?”
I shrugged and shook my head at the same time. “More of what we had already been doing?”
Foster snorted. “Oh, that won’t change,” he said. “We’re all a little selfish, after all, but it’s fun to have more hands.” He reached down and grabbed the hem of my shirt and drew it over my head. Callan helped with the bra. “And more mouths.”
“I will never be used to how fucking perfect you are,” Callan said. He dipped his head and took my nipple into his mouth. I moaned softly at his gentle, sucking pressure. My head dropped back onto Foster’s chest.
Foster’s hand reached down and popped the button on my jeans and dipped inside. His fingers found me through my panties, but even with the fabric in the way, we both knew that I had soaked through it. “So, do you want us?” Foster asked.
The idea of being with both of them at once was both overwhelming and mouthwatering. Can I handle it? I wasn’t sure, but I sure as hell wanted to try. “Yes.”
Foster and Callan shuffled me further into the trailer, shedding clothes as we went, to the small bed at the back of the trailer. It wasn’t large enough for all of us to sleep on comfortably, but it would be more than enough for what they had in mind. I ended up on my back with Foster at my side and Callan’s shoulders stretching my thighs apart.
Foster played with my breasts, tweaking and gently pulling on my nipples, as Callan kissed and suckled me. “I’ll bet Ryan-fucking-Jacobs couldn’t take care of this pussy the way we do,” he muttered and circled my clit with the tip of his tongue.
I threw my head from side to side. “Wouldn’t want him to,” I panted.
Callan hmm-ed against me, and I gasped at the vibrations.
He dipped a finger inside me and groaned aloud. “How are you always so wet for us, huh, Princess?” Callan asked, pumping his finger. Foster’s hand joined Callan’s between my legs, and I moaned when his finger pushed in beside Callan’s. The palm of his hand provided friction on my clit.
“Holy God,” I breathed, riding their hands. The very idea of their being inside me did it for me just as much as what their fingers were doing within me. “I’m coming!” My inner walls contracted hard as pleasure wracked through me.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Foster, hard and curving upward toward his belly, and I wanted him in my mouth. “Foster,” I said, drawing his eyes to mine. I wriggled closer to him. “Come here.”
Foster’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “Adrianne.” He broke off in a groan when I took his head in my mouth. The angle wasn’t the best, but I took him in as deeply as I could.
“Does her mouth feel as good as I think it does?”
Foster grunted. “Better.” I bobbed my head, and he hit the back of my throat.
“Lucky bastard.” But then Callan was moving so that he was kneeling between my legs. “Can I, Princess?” he asked, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance.
An idea struck me, and I let Foster slide out of my mouth. “Hold on,” I told them both before I flipped over onto my belly. “Does this work?”
Callan looked at me like I’d hung the moon. his hands encircled my hips and brought me back against him, slipping inside me. It was a tight squeeze in this position, but it sent him over that spot inside me that made me see starbursts. “This more than works, Princess,” Callan groaned.
Foster moved so that he was in front of me, and I glanced upward at him. “This okay for you?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes, smirking. He reached out and brushed my bottom lip with his thumb. “Put me back in your mouth.” He threaded his fingers through my hair, more holding on than guiding, but I swallowed him back down again.
I have two men inside me, I thought woozily. The three of us found a rhythm together, and pleasure speared through me. Callan thrust into me, steady and strong, and I tried to keep a similar pace as I bobbed my head, even as pleasure built in my belly.
“You look so fucking sexy like this,” Callan grunted. “Stretched around us from every angle. Ass all spread out for me.” He grabbed one of my ass cheeks. “So fucking soft and sweet.”
His thumb ran down the seam and pressed at my rim. It was a soft touch, and like when Ethan touched me there, my body didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t hurt, but it was more shocking than pleasurable. It made me want more and less all at once. I swirled my tongue over the head of Foster’s cock to distract myself.
“Fuck her,” Foster panted. It was almost a plea. Is he that close? “Get her there again, or swap with me so that I can.”
Callan scoffed but took hold of my hips again with both hands. “Impatient.”
“Let her put her mouth on you,” Foster snapped back. “See how
impatient you would be.”
Callan pulled me back against him as he plunged inside me, and I moaned around Foster’s cock. I was nearly there, but I just needed a little push. “Come on, Princess,” Callan pleaded. “Come on my cock. I want to feel that pretty pussy of yours.”
My orgasm broke over me and spread to every part of me. I gave in and rode their bodies, extending the pleasure pulsing through me. Foster’s moan echoed mine, and he came, bitter and earthy, across my tongue. I did my best to swallow it down. Not long after, Callan followed us, calling my name and pressing himself against me.
They helped me to lie on the bed, and Foster went to get something to clean us up. My legs were wobbly, and I sighed when Callan curled himself against me. I traced his tattoos with the pads of my fingers. He shivered. “That was amazing,” I murmured, and he smiled.
“It’s just the beginning, Princess. We’ll always take care of our girl.”
Ours. There was that phrase again. “I like being yours.”