Epilogue #2
When things got busier and Greer accepted that I’d rather have her with me than running bullshit errands, she started the exhaustive and selective hiring process.
She was far better at it than I was. Malcom wasn’t interested in a job to get his foot in the Hollywood door.
He didn’t want to be an actor, model, or anything else.
He also wasn’t looking to mooch for a paycheck without lifting a finger.
He liked being an assistant, and he was a damn good one.
“Shit, you’re right.” She still crossed her arms as she stared me down like I didn’t tower over her even with her boosted on my lap. “Why am I fired?”
“Because I’m taking a break from acting.”
My wife dropped all pretenses of resentment as alarm mixed with worry on her pretty face. “What’s wrong? Did something happen online?”
“No.”
It was the truth. I steered clear of comment sections, but the small social media team that worked for me didn’t. They reported back with anything I needed to know. There was still shit talk. There always would be. But for the most part, people loved Greer. And they loved the way I loved her.
There was also nothing wrong. Summer was the huge success I’d known it would be—once I got past kissing someone else.
I did two movies after that. The spy thriller had a big budget and a good script, but the special effects were the focus and everything else suffered.
The whodunit mystery, though, was the most fun I’d had with a role. I wanted to do more projects like that. Just in a different way.
I shared that. “I want to give directing a try.”
“Okay,” she said immediately. Zero doubt. Zero hesitation. Zero prodding questions of whether I thought I could handle it.
“If it goes well, maybe a production company down the line. Or even a small studio like A24. I want to be able to make the kind of movies I love with people who share my vision. Not ones who bitch and moan and cut corners to pocket more of the budget.”
As I spoke, Greer’s smile grew. “It’s an amazing idea.”
“It might go south.”
“It won’t.”
“We could lose a lot of money if it doesn’t pan out.”
She looked around. “I think we’ll survive. More importantly, it’s a moot point. This is going to be perfect for you.”
“For us. I want you to run it with me.”
The first hint of reluctance hit as she pressed her lips together. “I’d be out of my depth.”
“You said the same thing about being my assistant and look how amazing you did.”
“You can’t say that after you just terminated my employment,” she tried to joke past her very real apprehension.
“Nothing is changing tomorrow. You’ve got time to research, color code, and make your lists that cross reference other lists. If you think you need it, you can take classes. Or go back to Coastal for your Master’s like you’ve talked about.”
“That could push this out for years.”
“I’m fine with that. There’s no rush. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”
“Yeah, we do,” she whispered with a content smile. It quickly turned into a wicked one. “But about that package you mentioned…”
“Pull your shorts to the side, siren.”
Greer
TWO YEARS AFTER THAT
Stepping into the bedroom, I watched through the large glass door as my handsome husband paced out on the balcony with his phone pressed to his ear.
I knew he was talking to someone about work because he always paced during those calls.
But whether it was regarding his directorial debut or the next project he’d already booked, I wasn’t sure.
I was also too distracted to eavesdrop. His loose shorts hung low on his hips, and without a shirt on, I had a view of every cut muscle and deep indent.
How is he getting hotter and hotter? It’s magic. Or witchcraft.
He turned to look out at the gorgeous view as he spoke to whoever, and an idea formed.
Tossing what I held on to the bed, I quickly but quietly crept forward. If he turned and saw me, I’d lose my chance. It didn’t matter who he was talking to or how important it was. I was always his focus, and he would end the call with barely a goodbye.
I managed to make it unseen, but when I turned the lock, the bolt clicked loudly. Tripp looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. Like I predicted, his call ended almost immediately.
But it was too late.
He tried the door, but it simply rattled. “Did you lock me out?”
I ignored him as I stepped back.
Confused worry furrowed his brows, but before it could fully set in, I lifted my shirt over my head.
Fire replaced everything else in his gaze, and his cock instantly hardened to tent his flimsy shorts.
“Open the door, siren. Now.”
“Can’t hear you, Sir,” I lied, slowly sliding my jeans down next.
If I’d known ahead of time what I’d be doing, I would’ve layered up to extend the slow, deliberate strip tease. But it didn’t take long until I was naked with one arm banded across my breasts and the other stretched down to cover my sex.
His hand was down his shorts, and I had no doubt he was gripping himself tightly. “Now, Greer.”
I ignored him again. There was a good chance my ass would end up with red welts across it, but I was fine with that.
That was a lie.
I was thrilled with that.
Moving out of view while he yelled threats to me and my cute ass, I grabbed a vibrator from the side table.
It was the one he called his favorite coworker since the clit suction always made me come until I cried. Especially when he used it on me while he fucked my ass.
I rounded the bed again and grabbed the padded bench that was positioned in front of it. Dragging it across the room, I stopped once it was in front of him. I sat, but kept myself blocked and covered as I slid the vibrator in.
“Spread your legs and show me, or I swear to God, I will break this door down.”
I didn’t.
I pinched my nipple but kept my hand in the way so he couldn’t really see.
There wasn’t much room, and the angle wasn’t quite right, but I used my free hand to adjust the vibrator. It felt good.
But it was Tripp’s reaction that was stoking my need.
I’d planned to torture him. I wanted to draw it out until we were both at our breaking points and then push it further still.
But at the raw lust in his rapt gaze, I couldn’t.
“Be a good girl and lean back,” he ordered.
Once upon a time, I would’ve hesitated, overthinking the angle and how I looked. That was never a concern anymore.
For the most part, at least.
Right then, I was too far gone to overthink. Too far gone to feel self-conscious or doubt or anything but the driving need to make him as happy as he made me.
I did as he said, propping myself up on my elbows so I could still see him.
“So good. Don’t be shy. Show me that perfect pussy.”
I spread my legs.
“Never mind,” he rumbled. “Open this damn door.”
I didn’t obey that or any other demand.
Repositioning the vibrator, I let the low thrum slowly tighten the coil of need.
There were no more orders from Tripp. No more threats. He watched with enthralled intensity as I fucked myself while he stroked his dick like I was his personal porno.
His fantasy.
The voyeur room at Gilded hadn’t done it for either of us, and we’d never returned. Tripp was the only man I trusted enough to see me when I was a pathetic mess. I was the only one Tripp wanted to see, and he would lose his mind at the mere thought of someone else seeing what was his.
Our version at that moment was infinitely better.
The faster he stroked, the more I increased the suction. I had no clue if he could hear the noise the toy made as it slid through my wetness, but it was obscene.
And hot.
So hot.
The vibration. The clit stimulation. Tripp.
All of it did it for me in a big way, and there was no fighting against the orgasm that crashed through me. I cried out, forcing my lids to stay open so I could watch Tripp.
I jolted when his palm slapped the door, rattling it as he came all over the glass.
I fell back, sliding the toy from my oversensitive core with a hiss.
Tripp gave me a second to catch my breath before saying, “I need to touch my wife.”
But I wasn’t done yet.
I forced a lid open to confirm his shorts were back in place before rolling off the bench with all the grace of a stoned turtle. I grabbed the items that I’d tossed to the mattress, carefully hiding them behind my back as I stepped into view.
My trembling hands and hammering heart had nothing to do with the post-orgasm rush. I swallowed hard.
And then I showed him what was in my left hand.
It took him a few seconds to register what it was.
While he was distracted, I moved his camera from behind my back and snapped about a million pictures as his confusion warped to surprise before landing firmly in happiness.
Beyond happiness.
His grin was loaded with pride, adoration, love, and, unsurprisingly, heat. “You’re pregnant?”
I nodded, too choked up to say the words.
Getting pregnant when I was still taking classes for my Master’s degree and we were at the beginning stages with our fledgling studio was probably bad timing, but I didn’t care.
Schedules weren’t that important.
Okay, they were, but not with something so beautiful.
Tripp’s smile dropped, and his shoulders went back. “If you don’t open this damn door right now, Greer Carter, I am breaking it down.”
The second I turned the lock, it was thrown open, and I was in his arms. My legs and arms wrapped around him on instinct, but it was unnecessary. He would never drop me. Never hurt me.
Me or our baby.
His bruising kiss said just as much as his expression had, but he went for the trifecta by spelling it out with words. “Never thought life could feel so full. That I could feel so full. I love you, siren.”
“I love you, too, Sir.”
He kissed me again, and I opened my mouth, giving him what he wanted with a greedy desperation that never waned—what he had because that feeling was mutual…
Me.
And I did it wondering how I’d ever thought a bland life would be enough for me when I could have spice instead.
The End!