A Man Who Knows What He Wants: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  I wonder if she knows this is an excuse for me to feel her touch, how she’d react if I turned and crushed my lips against hers now. What would she do if I slid my hand under that shirt and rubbed those tits under her bra, playing with her nipples, bringing her to orgasm through that alone?

  Her hands shake as she slides the jacket onto my arms. Then she walks around to my front, grabbing the lapels and adjusting them.

  I almost snarl when I feel her touch. It’s like literal sparks dance at the end of her fingertips, making me imagine how her nervous palm would feel wrapped around my shaft.

  Her cheeks flame red, the blush spreading, like her body is telling me where to lick, to touch, to bite.

  Down and down, the blush creeps into her shirt, making me imagine those full breasts with deep red handprints inlaid on them.

  “There,” she murmurs, taking a step back and nodding as though satisfied with her work. “I think that looks good. Do you want a mirror?”

  “No, I trust your judgment.”

  She flinches again, but just like last time, there’s no way she’s more surprised than me. I don’t mean to keep offering her these little snippets of kindness.

  “Are we done?” I snap, trying to bring some iciness into my voice.

  “Yeah, I think so. Are they waiting for you onset?”

  I smirk, laughing gruffly. “They can wait all they damn want.”

  “I guess you’re sort of a big shot, aren’t you?”

  Oh.

  My balls grow even heavier, my muscles even tauter when a tiny note of sass comes into her expression.

  It’s in the quirk of her eyebrows, the way her lips twist as though she’s trying to mirror my smirk.

  It fades quickly, and her gaze drops.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  You don’t have to be sorry. You never need to be sorry. But if you really want to make it up to me, get on your knees and open that pretty little mouth wide, and get ready to show me how badly you want everything I have to give.

  “How old are you?” I growl instead of voicing my repressed thoughts.

  “Eighteen,” she whimpers. “But I’m turning nineteen in a few weeks.”

  A voice hisses in my head that she’s too young. I’m forty-three, so that puts twenty-five years between us. She’s not even old enough to drink yet.

  But the primal deep down part of me doesn’t care about that. It only knows that I have to take her, have to fuck her hard and deep until that pink glistening slit is brimming with my come until there’s so much of it, it gushes down her thighs. Making those round ass shimmer for me, as I’d slide my hands up and over her legs, spreading it over her ass cheeks.

  “Why?” she asks a moment later.

  I stare at her for a long moment, almost blurting out all these insane feelings rushing through me.

  But then I turn. I walk away without saying another word.

  I don’t trust myself to stay.

  She’s too goddamn magnetic. That’s what she is. She draws me to her. She’s reshaped my whole worldview in the space of five minutes.

  That’s dangerous. I need to be wary. I’ve never acted on emotion, never let myself be led by desire.

  But that’s the thing.

  I’ve never desired anyone like I desire my woman.

  My woman.

  She’s already mine, always mine, forever.

  I push open the door and stride across the lot, returning to my set.

  Chapter Three

  Bria

  The next few days are the busiest I’ve had in a long time, rushing around set jumping to Maximillia’s every command. I help mostly with the extras, making sure they have the correct outfits and that any costumes are repaired. I also start work clearing out the warehouse, which is such a mess because Maximillia ordered a whole heap of stuff from a bunch of companies.

  “If they give you a budget, use it. We can always sell the rest. Or give it away. Or burn it.”

  I’m fascinated by her, by how confident and blasé she is. Pride whelms in me when I watch her compose an outfit. She often changes little things here and there, when she gets the chance. But mostly we have to stick to what the characters have already been wearing.

  That’s how I found out that the costumes I chose for Braden and his men are going to be the costumes for the whole movie.

  “You just let me pick?” I gasped when Maximillia told me, as she texted on her phone, thumbs going a million miles per hour.

  “Yes, yes I did.” She grinned over at me. “I suppose it was a little naughty of me. But I wanted to see what you were made of. That interview you gave, Bria, the passion you showed. Do you remember what you said?”

  “I was so nervous. I barely remember a thing.”

  “You said that a costume can reflect an inner essence. An inner essence. The phrase stuck with me.”

  I return to that conversation again and again as the days collapse into each other and I hang around set.

  My costumes are going to be on the big screen, in multiple scenes, in most scenes.

  “Is that the only reason?” I asked, shaking my head as disbelief fluttered through me. “That’s a really, really big responsibility.”

  She leaned forward, a manic glint in her eyes. “Some of these Hollywood types look down on people like you, like us – people who weren’t born rich. Especially men like Tyler Poe.”

  I nodded. I’ve seen Tyler around set, of course. He’s Braden’s co-star and a real douche, with his blonde quaffed hair and that way he has of looking at people like he owns them, like they’re his servants.

  “He made a comment about the orphanage program,” Maximillia said, “so I let you pick all their costumes.”

  I almost asked her what comment, but I didn’t want to know. I’ve had enough comments hurled at me over the years, mostly in high school by bullies who delighted in my parents’ deaths for some twisted reason.

  As I ride my second bus to my rent controlled apartment block, I think about him.

  I think about the him I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since he charged into the warehouse with that sharp look in his eyes and that smirk on his lips.

  Laying my forehead against the glass and watching the world drift by, I let my mind dance to impossible scenarios. I image Braden snarling as I adjusted the front of his jacket, grabbing me by the hips and throwing me onto a pile of clothes. The bare brushing of my hands against his body was electric, tingles dancing up and down my arms.

  I imagine him grabbing my hand and pressing it against the front of his pants.

  “Rub my cock. Now.”

  I have no choice but to do what he says. Taking out his member and tearing off my trousers, driving up inside of me before nerves have a chance to make me scream stop.

  In the fantasy, I let go of any insecurity and I bounce up and down in motion with him, tearing my fingernails down his movie star back.

  Then it all warps and I see him sitting at a fireside, children gathered around him. Flames flickering in his wolfish eyes when he turns to me, the room warm, the kind of warm you get when it’s cold outside. Maybe we’re on some snowy getaway in my fantasy, Braden and my babies, our family.

  It’s an unlikely future. And maybe that’s the biggest understatement of the century.

  It’s a future that is simply never going to happen.

  But that doesn’t stop my mind from swimming with countless vignettes as I walk from the bus stop to the apartment block. It sits far outside of town, arranged for me by the youth services at the orphanage. The first few months have been paid until I start making some money, either through the costume-designer job or something more long term.

  I’ll have to work my ass off and try and prove myself capable of further work.

  As I climb the metal staircase, I imagine how Braden’s hard chest would feel pressed against me, flattening my pert and excited nipples. My clit throbs and I rush through the door, slamming it
behind me, my hands trembling as I turn the lock and pad across the room.

  Throwing myself down on the bed, I slide my hand down my pants, pressing my fingers against my clit.

  Oh, oh, oh.

  Braden tears my shirt off, rips it like the savage he is, causing the buttons to pop and fly through the air. He rips my bra from my body next and then leans down and sucks my nipples, sucks them hard and possessively, sucks them so I have no choice but to sink into the pleasure.

  “You better be getting wet for me baby girl,” he snarls, staring up at me.

  I turn to my wall, but then I remember the poster isn’t there. I didn’t put it up when I moved into the apartment. It felt childish.

  So instead I close my eyes and return to the fantasy.

  I mount him, in my mind, climb atop him like the most confident woman in the universe. He gasps as I sit down on his cock, driving down with my hips and taking his every inch inside of me.

  Rubbing my clit faster and harder, I feel the orgasm approaching, a hot sharpness shooting through me. I imagine it’s Braden’s cock, pumping up inside of me, as I rub my clit so fast I can’t focus on anything else.

  “Ride me, ride me hard,” he growls in my mind, as his hands sink into my ass and he pushes me down on his cock. “Bounce on this dick. Fucking serve this dick. Come for me, Bria. Come for me now.”

  I whimper, biting down, the pressure releasing.

  It’s like a thousand starry flurries are moving through me, touching every part of me.

  “Braden, Braden.”

  I moan his name into the air, shivering. It’s so silly, calling his name into the emptiness like this.

  But it helps me to imagine he’s here with me, his massive cock grinding up into my tight hole, as I can take him, all of him.

  In the make-believe, I don’t have to doubt myself.

  We finish in my mind, my hands clawing down his back, as I rub my clit in real life. Faster and fiercer, I rub, until there’s nothing left for me to give.

  I fall back with a gasp, letting my head rest on the sheets, and stare up at the ceiling. My eyes roam over the crack that goes from the corner up toward the middle, a jagged bolt through the material. It makes me think about how far reality is away from fantasy.

  I wish I could freaking close my eyes and open them and, poof, I’m there with Braden Braxten. But he’d never want me. I can’t let myself devolve into those girlish impossibilities again.

  It’s time to grow up, to face the facts.

  I’m not the sort of woman he’d want. And anyway, he was a jerk to me. I don’t give a damn about him.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that, a voice hisses in my mind.

  Forcing myself to sit up, I look around the bedroom, small and claustrophobic with some moving boxes pushed against the wall. My fingers twitch with the desire to rush to the closest box and take out the poster of Braden.

  But what would be the point?

  I need to focus on my work, myself, my future.

  There’s no reason to think about Braden Braxten.

  Because he definitely isn’t thinking about me.

  Chapter Four

  Braden

  I lean against the wall at the very edge of the studio, taking a few deep breaths as my gaze scans over the set. It’s dark where I am, a good place to take five minutes to decompress, but there are pockets of light and movement all around as spotlights are aimed and people hum about.

  Nobody approaches me, knowing I need these precious minutes to wind down after a scene.

  But it’s not the movie, nothing to do with my character.

  It’s her, the costume girl, with that round full ass and that shy-sassy expression on her face. I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about her, and eventually, I ended up with my hand wrapped around my cock, pumping, yanking it hard.

  I imagined I was fucking her, ramming her tight hole until she bucked up and down, those juicy tits bouncing for me.

  But when my seed finally exploded from my cock and landed all over my abs, I wasn’t left with the haze of satisfaction I’d hoped for. I wasn’t left feeling like I’d conquered her, because I hadn’t.

  I need to do it for real.

  But I know if I indulge my animal’s need for her flesh, I won’t be able to stop the rest of it from rushing out. I won’t be able to stop myself from telling her about our family, our future, and how she’s always going to be mine.

  And if she agrees, how the hell do I know it’s because she feels the same, or she wants my money, my lifestyle?

  I grind my teeth, instincts rebelling at the thought of my Bria acting like that. I’ve got no reason to think I know any better, or to call her my Bria, except for this feeling deep in my gut.

  It twists through me like a signal sent from the past, from some savage time when men claimed their women like beasts, killing any competitors, fucking their future into their prey’s warm welcoming slits.

  The feeling tells me Bria wants me as badly as I want her – wants a future, a family.

  But that’s just plain goddamn madness. I have no way of knowing that, only guessing, only speculating.

  “Thinking about how badly you ruined that scene, big man?”

  I look up as Tyler swaggers over to me. He’s got one of his wide grins on his face, all glitz, no substance. His blonde hair is styled heavily and he smells like he’s wearing some sort of perfume. He stands around six-two, lean, with a smug look about him that pisses me off.

  “Just kidding.” He leans against the wall next to me and folds his arms. “Ah, what a world we live in. What a lovely ugly world, aye? I had one grand adventure last night.”

  I say nothing, knowing it’s better to let Tyler rant on until he tires himself out. There’s no way I can get him to leave my little corner of the studio without making a big deal of it, he’d get all outraged and really piss me off. I don’t trust myself not to tear his head off if he starts giving me any of that supercilious LA shit.

  I may be many things – a grumpy bastard, a savage, an animal – but I’m also a professional. I’d never jeopardized a project by going full alpha on some pumped-up douche.

  “Oh yes,” he goes on, not needing any input from me. “A couple of nice prizes, shall we call them? I had them both in the hot tub. One was bent over while I finger-blasted the other one. Ha.”

  I grind my teeth from side to side at the idea of a threesome, everything inside of me rioting at the thought. There’s no world where I’d let anybody else get involved in mine and Bria’s sex life, no damn way. I don’t care if the third person is a woman or a man or a fucking elf.

  Nobody gets to see my woman naked, moaning, twitching, and creaming. Except for me.

  And she’s the only one who gets to see me go full werewolf and claim her.

  “Then they called up a couple of their friends. It was like a Roman orgy. Well, a Californian orgy, I guess.”

  “Hmm mm,” I growl, grinding my teeth a little more as though that will bring me comfort.

  It’s the thought of Bria with anybody else, driving its way into my brain like a twisting drill. It’s the thought of touching any other woman, of allowing myself to sink into that lust with anybody but Bria that drives me mad.

  Only Bria.

  Forever.

  “You should come by next time, big man. There’s plenty to go around.”

  “I think I’ll pass,” I snap.

  He holds his hands up, chuckling. “Hey, I was only offering. Who knows, it might even put a smile on your face.”

  I shake my head, pushing away from the wall and staring at him for a moment.

  “What?” he murmurs, shifting uncomfortably.

  The bravado drains out of his face.

  It’s insane how much dislike there is between us, when we’re supposed to be allies in this movie. But we manage to keep it off-screen, and luckily Tyler betrays me toward the end, so I’m able to channel some of this rage in certain scenes.

  “W
hy do you think those women agreed to do all those things, Tyler?”

  “Because I’m rich and famous.” He laughs bluntly. “Is that supposed to be some sort of revelation? I’m not naive, but who gives a fuck? They still do it all the same.”

  But it should mean something, I almost say. It shouldn’t just be for the sake of it.

  Instead, I stride past him, my shoulder almost smashing into his before he slides out of the way.

  “Careful, big man,” he calls after me.

  I clench my fists as I stalk across the studio, ignoring the voice that whispers in the back of my mind. It tells me to find Bria as quickly as I can, to bury my fingers in her voluptuous hips, and tell her I’d never let anyone else get involved in our sex life.

  It’s just going to be me and her, always, and if anybody else ever tries to insert themselves between us… Hell, they’re liable to end up in a body bag.

  I’ll tell her this as I drive forward with my hips, letting her feel the stiff length against her belly, letting her feel the beast she’s awakened inside of me.

  I can feel her start to shiver and buck against me, her pussy driving her crazy—

  I stop at the edge of the set, forcing myself to unclench my fists. It’s almost time for the next scene and I need to slip into my character, to forget about Bria and how badly I need to fuse our futures.

  It takes some doing, but that’s what being a professional is all about. I can’t get rid of Bria completely – she’s still there, whispering at the edges, calling to me as though wanting me to disappear into this fantasy with her.

  It’s the most I can hope for when she’s so damn captivating when every single part of her looks like it was made to satisfy me specifically.

  Later I see her again, walking across the lot outside, two big bundles of clothes in her arms. She doesn’t see me, staring straight forward, focused on her task.

  But I can’t stop looking at her, my eyes searing into that ass.

  Fuck.

  I’ve never wanted to grab an ass so badly before, never wanted to sink my hands deep into a woman’s flesh and squeeze until she gifts me with an innocent prey-like whimper.