21. Jenna
Chapter twenty-one
Jenna
I don’t think I’ve ever baked so much in my life. The Grangewood Grocer knows me by name at this point, because I’ve completely cleared their shelves of eggs, flour and butter.
I’ve arrived at work every day of the week a frazzled, exhausted mess. My hair is barely brushed, and mascara is the only form of makeup anywhere to be seen.
I’ve heard whispers around set, too. “Maybe someone died,” one of the extras had said on day two, because my hair was oily, and the dark circles under my eyes looked as though they’d been painted on.
“Maybe Cole dumped her?” another had said. They both found the thought of that happening absolutely hilarious and the most believable of the made up scenarios.
Cassandra checked on me at work, too, because, apparently, word had even spread to her.
I have a feeling that Tahnee opened her mouth and spoke to my best friend, but how could she help?
I couldn’t exactly tell her that something I hold dear is being held hostage by the one man my body loves to crave, but my mind can’t seem to admit she wants.
He’s stolen the thing I depend on most.
Locked away.
Seized.
Taken for ransom, with me the only thing he wants as a reward.
And the only way to get it back is to admit that I want to fuck Cole, and admit it without so much as a drop of alcohol in my system.
Completely stone cold sober .
He knew what he was doing when he’d asked that of me, even without knowing how touchy of a subject it was. I only wished I was completely sober when he came in like a thief in the night. Then I would’ve been able to put up a fight, maybe stand my ground a little. But instead I let it slip that I have a mild dependence on alcohol to encourage me to do things I wouldn’t usually be brave enough to do. He knew he was asking the impossible, but he took my toy anyway, and fled the scene.
Have I tried to get myself off? Of course, I fucking have. But it hasn’t worked.
I’ve tried in the shower, I’ve watched videos on my phone while laying in bed. I even looked at half naked pictures of Cole to see if that would help. But nothing I did ever got me over the line.
It couldn’t.
But I refuse to give in. I refuse to knock his door down and beg for him to either give me my toy back, or fuck me until I can’t possibly have another orgasm.
I won’t.
“Did you hear me?” Tahnee’s voice snaps me out of my trance. It’s only then that I realize my foot is tapping violently on the ground, and my bottom lip is on its last layer of skin from the constant nibbling.
“What?” I snap at her, accidentally. I’m way too on edge. Even the sound of expected voices sets me off.
I don’t think I’ve ever gone two days without some sort of release, so this last week has been hell on earth.
She raises her hands in defense. “I just asked if you wanted another coffee…” she gently places her phone into the back pocket of her jean shorts, and I feel the guilt take over.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day.” I sigh, running my hand down my face, watching as Mara throws herself all over the man she thinks is my boyfriend, while he smirks in my direction. I refuse to be fake jealous anymore. If she wants him, she can have him.
“I think you mean a long week,” Tahnee corrects me with an awkward smile. “So, coffee?” she asks again, and I nod.
“Right, coffee. Yes, please.” She smiles, and heads out the door, and I feel my phone vibrate in my hands. I puff my cheeks out with a sigh. I still haven’t saved his number in my phone, but I’ve memorized it by heart.
Unknown: You look a little…flustered, Snow. Anything I can do to help you out?
Me: Go away.
Unknown: So…no date, then?
Me: Go. Away.
Unknown: I see you’re still grumpy. I guess nothing else has worked, has it? winky face emoji
Unknown: Keep an eye out for a special delivery at your place tonight.
I read the text from my locked screen, but I don’t open it.
Instead, I place my phone face up on my vanity, and call Mara to sit in my chair so I can get started on her hair.
She smiles as she makes her way over. Once she’s comfortably seated, her eyes focus on herself in the mirror. Taking her long, blonde hair out of its ponytail, I get to work.
She sits silently, scrolling on her phone, while mine vibrates again to remind me of Cole’s message. Her eyes flick up to follow where the sound came from, and I watch her eyebrow quirk up as she makes out the message. “You don’t have your own boyfriend’s number saved in your phone?” she questions without looking at me.
It should bother me that she seems to know his number off by heart, too, but I don’t let it.
“He got a new number before shooting started, and I just haven’t gotten around to saving it,” I lie with a shrug. Focusing on her hair, I silently pray that she doesn’t notice the way my hands are shaking, hoping I don’t get caught out in a lie.
I allow myself to look at her screen while she scrolls, and I see her flicking through pictures on Cole’s social media, news articles, and whatever else she can find on him that I’ve no doubt already seen.
“You know, it’s only a matter of time before our managers tell everyone that he and I are dating, right?” She locks her phone, puts it in her lap and watches me for a reaction, but I don’t give her one.
I keep my focus on her hair.
“Is it?” I reply, gripping the handle of the curling iron firmly, swirling her blonde locks around the wand.
“It is. And instead of pretending to be in love with you , he gets to pretend to be in love with me. ” It’s not lost on me that she’s saying these things for me to react, but I’ve also dealt with a lot of shitty comments from people in my life who actually mean something to me.
Mara is someone I’ll never have to see again.
“Places, people,” Laurel Jo claps her hands loudly, the sound echoing through the giant space. Chatter surrounding us lessens, the sound of hurried footsteps replacing it.
“You’re lucky, you know,” Mara says, ignoring the instructions and remaining firm in her seat.
“How so?”
“You’re lucky you met him before I did. Because trust me, if it were the other way around, it would be me he’d be waking up next to every morning. But it’s still early days, isn’t it? Who knows, I could make him change his mind.” She attempts to rise from her seat, but I rest my hands on her shoulders to keep her in place, ignoring another call from Laurel.
I crouch down in front of her, making it look like I’m inspecting Tahnee’s makeup job, inching a little closer to her than necessary.
“I kind of want to see you try.” I keep my voice low, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Because if there’s one thing I love to witness, it’s the downfall of a mean girl.” I stand, taking a step back from her, and she clears her throat while rising to her feet.
She walks away, flicking her fresh waves over her shoulder, hips swaying side to side, and a smile spread wide across her face.
I hate that I stooped to her level over a man who means little to me. But what I hate even more, is when a woman knows a man is taken, and still does everything in her power to make him pick her.
After all, if I just let her assume she could have Cole, I wouldn’t be able to kiss him ‘hello’ every morning and ignore him for the rest of the day.
I must admit, that part has been fun.
***
There are two boxes sitting on the floor in front of my apartment door, waiting for me when I get home, and I know they’re from Cole.
They have no name, no address, and no sticker to show who sent it, or what it could be, but going by his still unread text from earlier today, it’s obvious.
That, and I haven’t done any online shopping since I left California.
I scoop them up, open my door, and place the boxes on my counter top. We have a stare off for a good five minutes before my phone vibrates next to it.
Unknown: Have you opened them yet?
Me: No.
Me: Is it some sort of animal?
Unknown: Open it and find out devil emoji
My curiosity wins, and I open the big box first. My chest swells, and I can feel my heart pounding against my rib cage as I pull out the very expensive, glossy black, stand mixer.
Me: You got me a mixer?
How did he even know I didn’t have one?
Unknown: Ignore that one. Open the smaller box.
It’s been too long since I received a package delivered to my door, and I’ve missed it. But I’m too on edge from my conversation with Mara to be playing dumb mind games with her stupid, sexy co-star who thinks he wants to fuck me again. So, I open the smaller box, like he told me to.
The top layer is covered in tissue paper that barely lasts a second in its place before I’m ripping through it to find a pink, thick wand. It’s almost a replica of the one he stole from me, only… “No buttons. ” I sigh, rummaging through the box for instructions or the toys packaging, but come up empty.
“What the hell?” I whisper to myself, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one can see what I’ve just had delivered to my door.
Me: A non vibrating vibrator? What’s the point? confused emoji
Unknown: Lay on your couch, shimmy your underwear down those legs, and place the toy where we both know you need it.
Me: What if I told you I wasn’t wearing any?
Unknown: God, you’re killing me, Snow.
Unknown: Please. Just lay down, put it on your pretty pussy.
Me: Why?
Unknown: Humor me.
And so I do.
I tuck my fingers beneath the waistband of the underwear I told him I wasn’t wearing, and slide them down my legs before they fall to my feet. Taking the three steps to my couch, I lay down, spread my legs and place the toy gently on my clit with one hand, while the other holds my phone to text him.
Me: What now?
There’s silence for a moment while I stare at the screen. The empty box is on my counter, and my underwear from today is sitting beside the couch on the ground, when the number I’ve memorized brings my phone to life.
“What are you playing at?” I ask him, my voice low even though nobody else is around to hear.
“You’re about to find out,” he tells me, his voice deep and gravelly, and I feel it right down to my toes. “Where’s the toy, Snow?” He asks.
“Where you told me to put it,” I say, releasing a shaky breath as his low chuckle buzzes through the speaker.
“Do you feel that?” At first I have no idea what he was referring to, and right as I’m about to stop playing his little game and snap my legs shut, I feel it.
It’s subtle at first, but it’s there. A sensation coming from the toy gripped in my fingertips, sending shock-waves through my entire body.
He’s bought me a new toy that only he can control.
“Why?” I whimper, allowing myself to relax into it and enjoy the feeling—albeit softer than I’m used to—that I haven’t in what feels like an eternity.
“How does it feel?” he whispers to me, my skin shrouded in goosebumps at the rasp in his voice. It’s almost like I can feel him on top of me.
“It feels…” I don’t know how to describe it, so I don’t. I finish my sentence with a moan, my legs spreading wider. I let the vibrations focus on my clit with a little more pressure. “Turn it up,” I tell him with a sense of urgency, needing this to happen, needing my body to crumble at the hands of him, even though he isn’t physically here to do it himself.
“No,” he replies, his voice stern. “Not until you admit that you want me as badly as I want you.” There’s silence, and the only thing I hear is the weak noise coming from between my legs.
I can’t admit that because it would be a lie. I’m not ready to tell him I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Instead, I reply by repeating his word, “No,” and give a subtle shake of my head, not that he can see. But it’s to drive the point home for me more than it is for him, and the vibration stops, right as I’m beginning to climb. “What happened?” I jolt upright, suddenly completely aware of the surroundings I had let myself get lost in.
“Let this be another reminder, Snow, that your orgasms belong to me. You come when I say you come. Not with your old toy, and certainly not with your new one. You will come with the help of my hands, my mouth, and my cock. The sooner you understand that, the better for the both of us. Do I make myself clear?” There’s slight humor in his voice. But it’s serious, and firm, and my hand glides down my thigh, fingers spreading my lips slightly.
“Crystal clear,” I tell him with a slight tremor in my voice. I hate that I mean it.
The phone beeps, telling me he’s ended the call, and I try to finish the job, I really do. But I’ve become too dependent on something I no longer have, and it’s fucking killing me.
Sitting up on the couch, I gaze around my lounge room and kitchen to weigh up my options, until I finally decide to pick up my underwear from the ground, slide them up my thighs, and head back to the Grangewood Grocer.
At least I can put one of his gifts to good use.