Chapter 32
chapter
thirty-two
Stella
“ F uck.” I blew out a breath as Ollie and I collapsed together on the bed. My heart still raced and my body hummed.
“Pretty sure we just did,” Ollie murmured into my ear. “But give me a few minutes and I will absolutely go for round two.”
“Three,” I said, holding up three fingers over my shoulder. “Pretty sure it will be three.”
He scraped his teeth over my shoulder in a playful bite. “Three is definitely a lucky number, Snow.” The drag of his cock leaving me had me groaning. “Stay here.” He added a slap to my ass before he rolled off the bed.
I pushed my head up, the bedhead I had going on was probably impressive because Ollie loved to put his hands in my hair, fist it, and then fuck. I licked my lips and made sure no drool had escaped. There was just something downright fierce about the way he fucked.
To say I was more than a little drunk on him would be a bit of an understatement. Add Gem to this and I was living in some hedonistic dream. That was a sobering thought. Dreams ended. Sometimes it was better to wake up before they became nightmares.
Ollie wandered back out from the bathroom with a damp cloth and a glass of water. “Drink,” he said as he handed it to me. I opened my mouth to say something, but he stole a kiss. “Hmm, I could get used to this.”
He left me to drink before he went to wipe me down. Another unexpected facet of this fantasy life I was existing in: Ollie and Gem seemed to both thrive on looking after me. It was as unsettling as it was unfamiliar. I’d had boyfriends before. I’d even had lovers.
I couldn’t say any of them had been like Ollie or Gem. Hell, most were more like Seven—if Seven and I were fucking and he was still a surly bastard. It would probably take an epic amount of fucking to get the stick out of Seven’s ass and make him relax.
Making a face at that thought, I downed the water like it was a shot of vodka. Once I set the glass down, Ollie flipped me over and looked down at me with a gleeful smile. Then he was burying his face in my pussy like he had challenged Gem to a duel at dawn for who was the best at it.
Oh, fuck, that idea just fired up my libido and I didn’t even try to fight my screams. Boneless as hell when he finally took a break, I grinned at his very stiff cock.
“Round four?” He grinned and at my laugh, he added, “That’s not a no.” It most certainly wasn’t.
He pulled me up and over his shoulder giving me a gorgeous view of his very tight ass. “Ollie? Is this how you plan to do calisthenics every morning?” I had to know as he carried me into the bathroom.
’Cause that was how he’d bribed his way into spending the night in my bed. We were going to get up early and work out together. Or I could have coffee and watch him work out—he just wanted the time. I think I liked this plan better.
Apparently, so did he because his wicked laugh was also not a no.
Thirty minutes and another orgasm later, I practically floated out of my room with Ollie strolling beside me. He still needed to swing by his own room for clean clothes. Not that I minded the long walk to get there. Those extra dozen steps or so were a killer.
I leaned on the doorframe and pointed a finger at him. “Uh-uh. Not coming in. You get your clothes on and then we’re going downstairs. I cannot live on sex alone. I require coffee.” At his smirk, I grinned. “And according to you, I also require food.”
“Hmm, I’ll just lure you back up here after breakfast.” He rubbed his hands together like some kind of evil villain and this had been his dastardly plan.
“I thought you had more interviews today.” I was pretty sure he had some streaming services doing “on the set” and “behind the scenes” specials. At least I thought that was what he meant.
“Ugh.” Ollie groaned. “I don’t think I want you so aware of my schedule anymore.”
“No?” I grinned as he pulled out a cheerful if a bit subdued Hawaiian-print business shirt. He held it up in front of him and then looked at me. “I like it. It makes you look even more dark and mysterious.”
His snort just made me grin. He slid the shirt on and buttoned it up on his way to the door. Once he squeezed in with me, he dipped his head for a kiss that I’d been expecting and welcomed.
Yes, we had places to go and things to do. I had a lot to do, including getting my own place again. Before I got too comfortable.
At the same time, I didn’t want to go anywhere. I enjoyed this playful side to Ollie, particularly when he was all relaxed. When I nipped his lower lip, he chuckled.
“Disciplining me now, Snow?” His eyes danced with all the possibilities.
The man was terrible. Absolutely terrible.
“Someone has to. You’re a menace.” I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Laughing, Ollie wrapped an arm around my shoulders as I slid mine around his waist. We headed for the stairs, sidestepping one of the cleaners who was coming up the stairs.
She froze in place, her eyes wide and her expression uncertain. I offered her another smile. “Good morning.”
The woman nodded briefly, then stepped hastily out of the way.
“Come on,” Ollie said, tugging me along. “Let’s go feed you. You definitely need to keep up your strength.”
I didn’t mind if I did.
Sadly for me, Ollie apparently miscalculated the time for his interview and a scorching call from Jerry had him giving me a quick kiss before he headed out. Ollie had been planning to make breakfast, but with his absence, I went for cereal.
Someone—Gem I was pretty sure—had seen me sneaking the bowls of Cocoa Puffties. I loved the cereal a stupid amount. They’d had an unopened box in there, so I hadn’t felt any guilt for the first bowl. Not really for the second or third bowls either.
But then a new box showed up. I hadn’t eaten the cereal in front of them. A girl’s gotta keep some of her dirty little secrets. The indulgence of the too-sweet and absolutely, deliciously chocolatey goodness was something I wanted to continue to enjoy.
Bowl in hand, I drifted into the dining room. There were places to eat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. We’d had exactly no meals in here since I arrived, which was fine—the kitchen was more comfortable.
A stack of mail and a large flat package waited there. Munching on the cereal, I drifted over to look at the address label on the package. I recognized the Notoriety address and the warnings to do not bend .
It had to be photos.
I wrestled with my conscience for a solid thirty seconds before I set the bowl down and pulled the tab on the seal for the package. Hard cardboard kept the photos flat, and folders protected the photos themselves. Setting the pieces aside, I flipped open the first one.
With a frown, I studied it. Then moved to the next. Then the next. One after another, I paged through the images. There had to have been fifteen or twenty sent over in total. Likely culled as the best from the three thousand she took on the day.
If these were the best, I had to grimace. “Shit. Shit. Oh my god, what was that woman thinking? Clearly she wasn’t, ’cause she has no idea what she’s doing.” She’d been more interested in sexual assault than focusing on the task at hand. What a creep.
With a sigh, I set the last one down.
“My thoughts exactly,” Seven said from the doorway. I only startled a little because I hadn’t even realized he was home. “It seems that opening my mail and rifling through it has distressed you. I don’t know if you’re aware, but it’s actually a federal offense to open someone else's mail.”
“I’m your girlfriend, Seven, basically de facto at this stage. But that’s beside the point because these? They’re shit. Total steaming dung piles. Every single one.” I was sorry I had opened the package up too, but I couldn’t unsee the travesty of what she’d sent over.
His eyebrows skyrocketed. “Excuse me?”
I strode over to him, took his arm, and walked him back to the table. Parking him in front of the images, I started flipping through them one at a time to show him.
“Shit.” I slapped it down.
“Shit.” I slapped down the second image.
“Only slightly up from shit, but I can’t even tell if you’re supposed to be human.” Down went images three through five.
Six through fourteen were next. “These are hardly an improvement. You look like the wax display of you at Madame Tussauds…”
“There isn’t a wax of me there.”
“Could have fooled me,” I said with a scoff. “Because we have evidence right here.”
“What about this one?” It was the last one in this stack. The first one I’d opened. “What’s wrong with it, Stray?”
“It’s soulless. You look like a two-dimensional replica of yourself, flat and lifeless. I don’t even know how bad you have to fuck up a shot to do that. I was there. The light wasn’t the worst. You can do a lot with a little, and you were in white and on full display but all she manages to capture is a sexless, unappealing facsimile.”
His mouth fell open through my diatribe. Yes, it was a damn diatribe. I took photos for a living, but I also understood the art. The woman had the easiest subject in the world—personality excluded—and she failed utterly.
“You think you can do better?” The words landed on the table like a proverbial gauntlet.
“I could do better pictures than this with a store-bought instant camera and the photos developed in a nineties-era Kodak machine.” That wasn’t arrogance; it was a straight-up fact. “I sure as fuck couldn’t do any worse.”
He shifted his position to meet my gaze with his unreadable expression. “Then prove it, Stray.”
It was my turn to stare at him. “Excuse me?”
The corner of his mouth kicked upward. “You heard me.” Then he picked up my bowl of cereal and handed it over. “You shouldn’t let those get too soggy.”
“I won’t. I don’t use too much milk anyway.” Then as if to prove the point, I took a crunchy bite of the cereal. It bought me a little time to consider my next words. I glanced at the photos again, then Seven.
His eyebrows raised in silent challenge. “Are you up for the task or not?”
I scoffed, nearly choking on my delicious cereal. “I’m more than up for it. But I need to get a studio. If we’re doing it, we’re going to do it the right way.”
“You can’t just take the photos here? We have light. You have a camera, a shiny brand-new one thanks to the bullet holes you’re putting in my bank account.” There was just a touch of mocking to his tone.
I shrugged, not rising to the bait. “Sure I could. But it wouldn’t be my best work. If you want me to play, then we do it my way or we don’t do it at all. Honestly, Seven, I have nothing I need to prove to you so if you’re happy to let Notoriety publish that crap…have at it.”
Folding his arms, Seven tucked his chin for a moment. He seemed to be calming himself, smoothing over his irritation. When he raised his head, he seemed far more patient.
The desire I had to pop that mood and make him lose his temper was right there. It actually caused me some physical pain to bite back the urge.
His expression was back to carefully neutral again, making me remember how very different he was to Gem. His twin was an open book, all the time. “Tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”
Well, shit, he must see how bad those images are after all. I wasn’t about to deal with him booking some random studio. He knew all about film and the conditions it took to get the right lighting. If he didn’t, he should.
No, he just wanted control back and to probably make me prove myself in some shitty environment with fluorescent lights or some crap. Absolutely not.
“How about I just tell you when and where to be, what to wear, and what to do? Will that work for you, Spawn? Because if not”—I pushed the shitty photos across the table to him again—“Janice has you sorted.”
“Fine,” he said with gritted teeth. “Dazzle me with your brilliance.”
“As if that will be hard.” I pulled out my phone, scrolled through my contacts, then called in a favor. The whole time I spoke to the studio owner, I could practically feel Seven trying to figure out what the rub was, what game I was playing.
“Sunday afternoon?” I flicked a look at Seven. He nodded his head slowly. Good to know. “I get the whole place, no one else?” The affirmatives were the answers I was waiting for. “I’ll cash app the money to you. Thanks, Patton!”
Off the call, I pocketed the phone and reclaimed my cereal. “Sunday afternoon.”
“So I heard,” he said. “What time?”
“Noon until seven. But I can extend it to nine if I give them ninety minutes’ notice.”
“Think I’m going to need that much time?”
“Honestly? The thought had occurred. You seem to be as good of a model as you are an actor from what I saw.” Then I took a bite of the cereal before it really did lose the crunch.
He huffed, but it held an edge of amusement. “Am I going to need a safe word?”
I glared at him. “Don’t push it, Spawn.”