Richard's Reign (Book 6): Enthrall Novella #3 (Enthrall Sessions) Read online

  As though on cue, Megan went for my jugular. “I’m afraid your current profession isn’t going to fly, Mr. Booth.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I work tirelessly to keep negative press away from Andrea. It’s not difficult, not really, not if she continues to surround herself with people with integrity. There’s an art to ensuring her name remains untainted.”

  I stood tall, quietly warning myself not to be drawn into her drama. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Should it become known that Andrea is fraternizing with a man of your profession—”

  “You mean stockbroker?”

  “We both know you’re not a stockbroker, Mr. Sheppard.”

  She’d used my real name like a bad move on a chess board.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Actually, I handle several clients’ portfolios—”

  “Megan,” said Ethan, “Richard understands the delicate nature of Andrea’s reputation. He’s agreed to extricate himself…”

  And so it went on.

  Andrea and Ethan talking over me, the discussion morphing into accusations of how I’d taken advantage of Andrea’s delicate psyche and the conversation circled the drain fast as they delved deeper into my family history. Megan’s emphasis on how such a connection with me would ruin an actress of her caliber.

  “It’s better if you let me talk,” snapped Ethan.

  Trying to defend myself had riled up Megan’s ugliest side, apparently.

  She’d screamed at me to. “Shut the fuck up.”

  Taking a moment to recover from her outburst and drawing on my Zen, I kept my voice calm. “I’d never to anything to hurt her.” I glanced over to the door to the outside.

  God, these trailers were small. Suffocating.

  Megan calmed a little. “Ethan has assured me you are essentially a good man, Mr. Sheppard.”

  “Please, call me Richard.”

  “I’d like to believe you are, a good man that is, unlike your father.” She might as well have stuck one of her over-manicured fingernails in my carotid.

  It was never meant to last, I reasoned.

  You were never meant to like her quite this much.

  The signed agreement was fulfilled. The time limit reached. The submissive in question having benefited from the brief and yet startlingly profound experience.

  “To be frank, Mr. Sheppard, it’s over.”

  Trying to convince myself this was the truth and that I’d not developed feelings for this woman who seemed to belong more to others than herself, a lover who’d come into my life and swept me up into the storm of her existence, her love pure, her sweetness enduring, her affection healing.

  All this time I’d arrogantly believed I was helping her.

  “So we have an understanding?” said Megan, her voice coming from far off.

  “Yes,” I heard myself reply.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re reasonable at least.”

  I frowned at her. “At least?”

  “Yes, most men would see her fame and money and not let go so easily.”

  “It was never about that,” I said. She came to me.

  Ethan rested his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  I gave a reluctant nod.

  Perhaps this was how it was done? When Andrea was over a man she got Megan to do her dirty work. Perhaps I’d never know.

  “Please explain this to Andrea for me,” I said softly.

  Megan gave a thin smile.

  “Tell her…” I searched for the words, maintaining an air of nonchalance.

  “I’ll tell her to focus on her career, Mr. Sheppard, as I always do.”

  With Ethan close behind me, I made my way down the short steps of the trailer. I wanted off this lot.

  Hell, I wanted off this planet.

  “I’ll handle the press,” said Megan, hurrying behind us.

  Probably more for Ethan’s sake than mine.

  “We appreciate that,” he said.

  My legs froze when I saw that beautiful face coming toward me, a well of panic rising in me that I’d have to endure another awkward exchange - this time with Andrea.

  I braced for the impending coldness between us.

  I’d have to explain why I was here. My jaw clenched and my chest constricted.

  Andrea stopped suddenly when she saw me. Sienna was by her side. A few words were exchanged and Sienna scurried away, throwing me a passing nod as she went.

  I went to apologize for being here.

  Andrea ran toward me and leaped into my arms, wrapping her arms and legs around me, hugging me tight. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “WE’LL ONLY BE a moment,” Andrea told Ethan and Megan, as she gripped my hand and pulled me up the trailer steps.

  With no choice but to hurry behind her I threw Ethan a reassuring smile while trying to avoid the glaring daggers from Megan.

  I shut the door to the world outside.

  Her face was flawless, that stark makeup applied with perfection and extra heavy for the lights. That short peach-colored dress so feminine, her dark hair curling around her shoulders.

  “You changed your mind?” she said.

  “So unlike me.” I forced a smile, my heart aching that I was about to deliver the deathblow.

  “I can’t stop thinking of you.” She fell to her knees and went for my zipper.

  “Wait.”

  She was fast, too fast, her hands bringing me out of my pants and massaging me, the tip of her tongue running along the head of my cock.

  “We need to talk,” I reasoned breathlessly, trying to fight this need to break away, trying to fight this need not to.

  She slapped my hands away when I tried to stop her.

  Thoughts swirled, my senses sparking—

  Andrea was deep-throating me and my hardness grew in her mouth. She owned me, captured me completely and I became her willing prisoner. When her hands cupped my balls and squeezed, I flinched.

  “We should talk.”

  “We are.” Her mouth took me all the way in again, her hands now on my ass and drawing me into her with a fierce rhythm.

  I wanted to tell her this was not the best idea, knowing that our judge and jury were waiting outside for us to exit in the next minute or so to prove this bad boy had done the right thing.

  A shiver ran up my spine. My body rigid, my mind exploding with this swell of pleasure, finding my way back from this was impossible. The more I fought it the greater the anger raged for those who told me this was wrong when it felt so right - she felt so right - the more my cock hardened and ignored my silent plea.

  My hands reached out on either side and gripped the walls, my knuckles white, my hips falling into the rhythm she commanded, the sounds of her wet mouth suckling, her soft moans of pleasure proving she needed this just as much as me.

  “Andrea, stop, please, otherwise I’m going to come.”

  Her soft moan echoed; she hummed around me.

  My head fell back and that vulnerable side I suppressed rose begging me for this, to let her be, let her have whatever she wanted. The rising bliss sending ripples of nirvana through me and making my muscles tight, my biceps flinch, my fingers tremble with tension.

  This was freedom. This had been my way all along. In letting my guard down just long enough to train her, I had let this incredible woman in.

  I was falling fast.

  Freefalling.

  I moaned her name.

  My warmth spurted into her mouth and she swallowed me, her frenzied laps and kisses revealing her passion, her own need, her eyes peering up and meeting mine in that exquisite submissive way of hers.

  She remained kneeling at my feet, head bowed, that bite to her lip proving she’d hoped she’d pleased me. “Thank you, Master. I needed that more than you know.”

  My jaw slackened in surprise.

  And I was fucking unshockable.

  I lifted her up and carried her over to
that small couch, throwing cushions to the floor, and not caring where they fell. I slipped to my knees, hitched up her dress and buried my head between her thighs, pulling her panties out of the way and suckling her sex, knowing this was the last time I’d taste her and wanting her to know how much she meant to me.

  She widened her thighs, her hands grabbing a fist full of hair and pulling me into her.

  “I need this,” she moaned, “Richard, please don’t stop.”

  My tongue was fucking her now, my thumb on her clit, circling. She shivered against me, her groans rising and I slapped my hand over her mouth to quiet her scream when she came, my strumming taking her through another climax. Her back arched, her breath coming in heavy gasps of desire, her thighs trembling, that throaty moan as she came again.

  She cupped her face with her hands.

  “Come here,” I whispered.

  She sat up and wrapped her arms around me, her head resting on mine, her short gasps causing her body to tremble.

  A knock at the door.

  “We’ll be right out,” I said, and kissed Andrea’s shoulder.

  “Just need a few more minutes,” she added.

  I rose up on the couch beside her. “You look beautiful.”

  “I’m made up like a pancake.”

  “That’s why you taste so good.” I grinned.

  “I missed you so much.”

  “It’s good to see you.”

  “More than you’ll ever know.”

  I took her hands in mine. “We’ve always been honest with each other.”

  “Yes, I love that about us.”

  I lowered my head trying to find the right words.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “At the beginning of our agreement we agreed to a time limit.”

  “I’ve been thinking of that, too.”

  “Oh, okay. Good.”

  “Let’s forget that silly contract.”

  “That’s not necessarily a good idea.”

  She looked away.

  “This is not what you think it is,” I said.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Please, hear me out.”

  She gave a wary nod.

  “This is why you have someone like Megan in your life, to protect you from scandal. What would people say if they knew you were with the son of the man who brought New York to its knees?”

  “Are you here to end us?”

  I squeezed her hands. “You’ve worked so hard to be seen as America’s sweetheart.”

  Another knock.

  “Please,” I snapped.

  Andrea grabbed my hands. “We’ll find a way. I know we will.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  The door opened and Sienna stepped in with a flushed face and a nervous fluster. I assumed they’d sent her in.

  She waved the script she was holding. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  I clenched my jaw in frustration. “Tell Megan we’ll be right out.”

  Sienna looked at Andrea nervously. “Mr. Mubarak’s ready for you.”

  Andrea leaped to her feet. “Were they calling for me?”

  “Yes,” said Sienna.

  Andrea fell against my chest. “Come with me.”

  “On set?”

  She looked up at me knowingly. “We need to clarify a few things first.”

  Self-conscious of Sienna, my words slipped away and I gave a reluctant nod.

  I’d escaped the impending fallout inside the trailer only to be greeted with Megan and Ethan’s false smiles.

  “Richard’s going to watch me film,” said Andrea, pulling me behind her.

  My mouth opened but no words came out.

  Despite the annoyance of being hounded away, I knew they were right. My personal life was all over the map and ill-suited for someone hoping to keep the public’s affection. This baggage I’d never be able to shed would always haunt me like a recurring nightmare.

  This was where true love was tested. Not on the whitewashed sands of walking lovers but in the trenches of life where one chooses to do the right thing.

  I gave Andrea’s hand a tug. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, Andrea. I have to get back to work.”

  She turned and smirked up at me. “We’ll chat between takes. I’m filming an emotional scene. It will help me to have you here.”

  “I really must go.”

  “Don’t rattle my process.” She winked.

  She bounded along in that playful feminine way of hers, dark locks flowing, and all those fun times we’d spent together came flooding back, our memories few but each and every one cherished. She’d lifted me out of a slump and I owed her this at least.

  Megan and Ethan stalked close on our heels and we entered the stage and went on through yet another heavy door.

  Andrea pointed upward to the red light in an oval box. “When that’s lit up and spinning you have to be quiet. Put your phone on silent.”

  Trailing behind her I worked on my phone, my fingers sliding across the screen to shut it off. Andrea walked confidently ahead of me. She received a wave here and there from the crew and she waved back. She seemed to know everyone’s name and their faces lit up as she greeted them.

  Behind the veil of filmmaking all glamour slipped away as the truth was soon discovered in all its dusty backstage reality. During the grueling long days their technical brilliance became more of an endurance test as the impressive stamina of the crew played out. You could see it on their faces.

  We walked through the vast, dark stage, cold from hours of air conditioning and stepped over wires and cables and props strewn on the floor, posing as hazards. Tall wooden stands that when rounded proved they were hiding realistic window frames, walls and doors that appeared so real, and just beyond us sat the main set in the center.

  A city apartment with all the touches of luxury, like that elegant artwork hung on the walls, the sleek lines of modern furniture from talented decorator’s, the vast, long glass window overlooking the dramatic skyline of Manhattan.

  Staring in awe I shook my head at the spectacular view. The same one I’d enjoyed all those years when I’d had a penthouse in the Upper East Side.

  Andrea introduced me to the set designer, Brandon Zenon, and told me they’d worked together on another film, back when they were both starting out. They both shared Florida roots, she went on to say.

  “We project the real background via laser,” he explained. “It gives the vista an authentic perspective.”

  “Impressive.” I watched him navigate the software on a laptop.

  The way he centered the fifty foot image on the back screen, the profoundness of detail in that digital projection that made up the view.

  “It really does appear real.” I admired the panoramic landscape.

  “We have a generous budget,” he said, and turned back to chat with one of the cameramen who was strapping a Glidecam Smooth Shooter to himself for a stabilized shot.

  Andrea guided me over to a dark corner where a line of TV screens rested before five chairs, and she told me this was called the video village. Andrea’s name was on the back of one of the chairs - as were several of the other cast members. Mubarak’s empty chair sat on the end.

  Andrea squeezed my arm. “You can watch from here.”

  I gave a nod and turned to see Ethan and Megan standing a few feet behind us.

  Andrea lowered her voice to a whisper. “Pivotal scene, my character Rose tells Jax she’s ready to become his submissive.”

  My face flushed as my imagination placed me firmly in Jax’s shoes and then a rush of happiness flooded my veins as I thought of Andrea.

  What the fuck was that?

  It didn’t exactly help that she’d had my cock in her gorgeous mouth just ten minutes ago.

  Andrea knocked my arm. “Look, Jax even looks like you.”

  Blaze Fumero strolled on in with the confidence of a leading man, the actor was evidently taking a break from his Emmy winning TV show to star alongside Andrea
on this feature. He took center stage on the set and sat on the couch. He was swarmed by makeup artists and other members of the crew who tended to him.

  Self-consciously, I patted my hair down though it was Blaze’s hair that was sticking up. He did kind of look like me in a scruffy East Coast way. I liked to think of myself as a little better put together, then reminded myself he was in costume and those ripped jeans and worn T-shirt were probably not a true representation of the heartthrob who had everyone flustered.

  “They probably think you’re his stunt double,” said Ethan, his kindness returning.

  Megan’s protective stance hadn’t changed and she looked like she was wound too tight, and needed to take herself a lot less seriously.

  One night with one of my Doms and that bee-sucking expression would be wiped from her highly strung mouth.

  “Wait here, okay?” said Andrea.

  She left my side and headed toward the set. A few members of the crew swarmed her now. She greeted them with a professional air, a smile here, a nod there, her expression pure focus.

  The crew scattered.

  I looked around to see what had rattled them.

  He strolled into focus. A large framed man, his expression sour, his small round glasses sinister, beige combat pants and jacket, his movement slow and deliberate. Jack Mubarak was even more intimidating in real life, his scowl revealing the kind of physical pain he wanted no one to know about and from his guarded walk I assumed it was his lower back.

  He glowered at Andrea. “Nice of you to join us, Ms. Buckingham.”

  She shrank, her calm demeanor dissipating and though she hid it well to the others I’d gotten to know that flush on her neck, that uneasy way she lowered her gaze to peek beneath long dark lashes, the way she shifted her footing.

  Our eyes caught and I gave her a comforting smile.

  “Pictures up,” someone shouted from our left.

  The set went quiet.

  “Camera’s rolling,” came the call.

  A loud buzz echoed in warning.

  The scene unfolded dramatically with Blaze and Andrea going at it in a full on argument, and me reminding myself they were acting. Several takes later and the grueling pace of maintaining tension seemed to wear on them both. I admired their focus.