Home > Stardust (Peaches Monroe #1)(64)

Stardust (Peaches Monroe #1)(64)
Author: Mimi Strong

“That’s the photographer,” Vern said to me. “And her three assistants. They aren't staying here tonight, as far as I know.” He waved toward the largest building nearby, a thing one might be tempted to call a cabin, as it was apparently made from logs. The enormous ranch house really was more of a castle, by the size of it.

Vern saw me looking and waved to the ranch house, explaining, “Some of the filming takes place inside there, but we’ve also got a smaller cabin at the back, and that’s where this evening’s photo shoot is happening.”

I turned and held my hand up to block the glare of the sun. “We’re losing light, so I guess it’s happening soon?”

“It sure is. Follow me.”

There were two dozen vehicles parked along the front road, and close to a hundred people milling about, all talking on phones or walkie talkies and looking really busy and annoyed.

Vern pointed out people and explained to me which ones were part of the indie film crew versus who was there for the Vanity Fair shoot. I was beyond relieved to have him at my side, explaining everything.

I spotted some attractive young women who weren’t looking busy or annoyed, but enjoying some late-day sunshine on lounge chairs. “Who are they?”

“Extras. They’re only in a scene or two, but they’re kept around so the director has some tail to chase around and doesn’t bother the leading ladies.”

“No!”

He held up his hands, grinning. “Standard practice. I imagine this is all rather sordid compared to running a bookstore?”

“Scandalous.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” he said.

We walked up to the smaller building, which was also made of logs, and could safely be called a cabin, though it was still rather majestic. Speaking of majestic, my eyes didn’t spend much time on the cabin, because a muscular torso drew my attention. A shirtless man in plaid shorts and a brown, wide-brimmed hat brushed past us, bumping into me hard enough to make me lose my stride.

“Sorry, miss,” he muttered.

CHAPTER 22

I sniffed the air, detecting a familiar musk, and wheeled around. “Dalton?”

Dalton Deangelo stopped and pulled off the hat, grinning. “So much for my disguise.”

“I’d know that chest of yours anywhere. I probably know your ni**les better than your face.”

He frowned and looked over at Vern, who was struggling to maintain composure.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said.

Jokingly, he frowned and said, “I’m just a sex symbol to you girls. The way you fetishize me. It makes me feel dirty.”

“Sir, may I fetch you anything else?” Vern asked.

Dalton grabbed me and pulled me against him, my back to his front. He wrapped his arms around my torso possessively and rested his chin on top of my head.

“You’ve brought me everything,” Dalton said. “You brought my Peaches, and she brought her peaches, and that’s all I need.”

“You’re so bad,” I said, spanking his forearm as I chided him. The girls in the lounger chairs were looking our way with interest. My anger flared up momentarily as one pulled out her phone, and I imagined her taking my picture and posting it on a gossip site.

Vern excused himself to go check on some details, and I was alone with my guy again. My guy. Because I was there as his girl.

Turning around to face him, I said, “I signed that NDA for you, not for the cash. I’d rather have your trust than your money.”

He glanced around, then kissed my forehead, right over my eyebrow. “Good. Let’s go smooch behind a tree for two minutes, before you have to get into hair and wardrobe.”

“What?”

“Smooch. It’s sort of a slang word for kissing.” He tugged my hand and led me over to a big tree, pulling me into his arms on the opposite side of the crowd of people milling about.

“What do you mean, hair and ward—” He didn’t shush me, but he did press his lips firmly against mine, which made my knees as weak as ever.

He hadn’t answered my question, but I understood the favor he was asking me. With my pictures all over the internet, and me being linked to him, having me in some of today’s Vanity Fair photos would be good for publicity on the film. I still hadn’t figured out what the movie was about, exactly, but if he cared about it, that was good enough for me.

His lips did most of the convincing. And then his tongue helped, as did his bare chest, his flesh hot and wonderful under my hands. With my back against the rough tree bark, I savored his kisses and his gentle, passionate touch.

He rubbed his lightly-stubbled cheek against mine and murmured in my ear, “It’s a shame we only have one more minute. We could do a lot of damage to each other if we had maybe five minutes.”

I pulled him close, my palms flat on his back between his shoulder blades. “Five minutes? But you have me all night.”

“So you’ll pose for a couple of photos? It would really help me out.”

“I will do anything for you, baby.”

He grinned and took my hand, guiding it down to feel his hardness.

“Feel how hot you make me.”

I squeezed his rocket. “You’ve got quite the situation in those shorts.”

“Don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight.”

I stroked the length of him, feeling equally engorged myself. “I think I’m making your situation even worse.” I squeezed the head, pressing my thumb into the groove and feeling everything through the thin fabric of his plaid shorts.

For a second, I remembered his confession about being in the adult films when he was younger. Stereotypical  p**n  images flashed through my mind, and it didn’t turn me off at all. It made me feel frisky. So frisky, I could have screamed.

He pressed up against me suddenly, pinning me to the tree and grinding himself against my hip bone and stomach. Nuzzling my neck, he murmured, “Tonight.”

“Tonight.”

He took my earlobe into his mouth and sucked, hard. I whimpered as electric feelings shot through me.

After two more nibbles on my sensitive earlobe, he whispered, “Hair and makeup is in the yellow trailer. You’d better run, because you’re late, naughty girl.”

He pulled away, turned quickly, and jogged off in the direction of the smaller cabin, his hat off his head and held casually in front of his shorts.

I staggered toward the trio of mobile dressing rooms, drunk on lust. Two of the trailers were brown, and one bright yellow, so at least that part was easy.

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