Untamable

by Jamie Schlosser

  Didn’t matter what you called it. I was so gone for her.

  Yesterday my head had been totally out of the game, which meant we didn’t make much progress with the cats. I was supposed to do a follow-up visit with Marty and Greg to see how they were doing, but decided to push it back another day or two. Instead, I found myself hanging around the apartment.

  Seemed that when it came to spending time with Estelle, everything else was secondary.

  When I wasn’t with her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And when I had her in my sights, trying to hide how badly I wanted her was torture.

  In between shoots, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’d had some pretty heated make-out sessions in her bedroom. In the coat closet. In the bathroom. Anywhere the cameras wouldn’t see us.

  And as soon as the day was over and the door shut behind the last crew member, clothes came off and we practically sprinted to the bedroom.

  Keeping the secret to ourselves was fun, but behaving during filming was becoming more and more difficult. Especially when she looked at me the way she was right now.

  Estelle batted her eyelashes over the rim of her sweet tea before wrapping her lips around the straw. It wasn’t rational to be envious of a flimsy piece of plastic, but fuck.

  Then again, nothing about my quickly developing feelings for her was normal.

  Placing the cup on the coffee table, she licked her lips and uncrossed her legs, primly keeping her knees together. She didn’t need to spread her thighs for me to know what was under her dress.

  I’d memorized every square inch of her.

  My cock thickened and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Now was not the time to get a boner. But from the devious smirk on Estelle’s face, I could tell she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

  “Estelle.” I cleared my throat. “What improvements have you noticed in the past few days?”

  We’d already gone over the interview questions, but she delivered the rehearsed answer as if it was the first time we were talking about it.

  “I owe everything to the pussy tamer. This is only day six, and I’m already over halfway to my goal. Cindy and Greg found homes earlier in the week. Marcia and Jan were adopted—together—this morning. I couldn’t have done it without him.” She widened those doe-like eyes, blinking innocently like a damsel in distress.

  Such a pro.

  Over the past week, I’d learned she was neither innocent nor helpless.

  In fact, she was hell on wheels—literally.

  Her driving skills were still absolute shit, even after the lesson I’d forced on her last night.

  After dinner, I’d insisted on taking her out to show her some basics. We worked on the importance of checking your blind spot, turn signals, and giving the vehicle enough time to slow before coming to a stop. By the time we made it back to her apartment, I needed a stiff drink.

  “Tell us a little bit about the family who adopted Marcia and Jan,” I requested, proud of Estelle for handling the double adoption so well. The middle-aged couple had been perfect for the unique pair.

  She smiled. “They’re empty nesters. In the past two years, both of their kids moved away to college and they don’t have any other pets. It was an ideal situation for taking on two cats instead of one. The local shelter helped us get matched up. I couldn’t be happier with the results for my pussies,” she laid it on extra thick with a wink.

  “That was perfect.” Steve clapped, ecstatic with her stellar performance. “Emery, you’re up next.”

  I took Estelle’s spot on the couch and looked into the dark lens. “Four pussies tamed, three to go.”

  “Come on, Emery.” Steve sighed. “Make me believe it.”

  Behind him, Estelle rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d fall over. Then she stuck her tongue out and mimed a cat cleaning itself.

  I laughed.

  Steve turned around to see what was so funny but in an instant, she reverted to a blank facial expression, nonchalantly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Shrugging, my clueless producer faced me again.

  And something about that moment—that insignificant moment—made something shift inside of me. That feeling of true happiness that had been few and far between over the past several years whelmed in my chest.

  Estelle was making me feel something I’d never experienced before. I didn’t know if it was love, but it had to be pretty damn close.

  Everything was better when she was around.

  Steve’s shitty moods? I let them roll off my back.

  Peter still being a dick? It didn’t bother me. He wasn’t responding to any of my positive reinforcement methods, but I’d get him to come around eventually.

  And even if it was a life-threatening event every single time, I enjoyed riding shotgun in Estelle’s Jeep. Sometimes I found myself making up reasons to go to the store, just so I could hear her rap about big butts. A simple trip to the gas station gave me a bigger adrenaline rush than skydiving—which I’d done once, and would probably never do again.

  And as I watched Estelle go back to making ridiculous faces, my heart sped up and my stomach swooped, the same way it did when I jumped out of that airplane when I was eighteen.

  After I nailed my line, Steve called a lunch break and Estelle headed down the hallway to the bathroom.

  I followed.

  Just before she could shut the door, I stopped it with my boot. I quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then I pushed my way inside with her.

  “What are you doing?” she whisper-yelled as I quietly shut the door.

  Instead of answering, I picked her up and set her ass on the counter next to the sink. Reaching under her dress, I disabled her mic. Her eyes widened because she knew what that meant.

  Then I slid my hand between her legs to confirm what I already knew—she wasn’t wearing panties.

  “Did you do this on purpose?”

  “What?” she asked, blinking innocently.

  “This dress. No panties.” I buried two fingers in her slick heat and she gasped. “You like to tease me.”

  Grabbing my wallet with my other hand, I retrieved a condom and started unbuckling my belt.

  Disbelief, fear, and arousal lit up her face when she realized I wasn’t messing around. We were going to fuck right here, right now.

  It was the first time we’d ever had sex with people still lingering around the apartment, and the risk of getting caught made my dick even harder.

  I rolled the protection on, then replaced my fingers with my cock, slipping my tip into her tight heat. Just an inch.

  “Has anyone seen Emery?” Joel’s voice came from down the hallway.

  Estelle and I both froze.

  “I think he went out to the RV,” Rhonda answered.

  Out of instinct, habit, or whatever, I switched off the light. Estelle flipped it back on.

  I grinned.

  “Everyone is right outside,” she hissed, but her protest sounded weak and half-hearted. “They could hear us.”

  Placing my palm over her mouth, I pushed forward and she whimpered behind my hand. “Guess you better be quiet then.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Estelle complained as we got into her Jeep. “I’ve never been in an accident or anything. I don’t drive under the influence. I’m not that bad.” She threw her hands up. “I’ve never even had a ticket.”

  “How many times have you been pulled over?”

  Her eyes turned to the darkening sky as she silently counted to herself. “Like, six or seven.”

  “And how many of those cops were dudes?”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she accused, those brown orbs narrowing. “Either I cried or flirted to get out of a ticket.”

  “Did you?”

  “Well, yeah.” She huffed, but she couldn’t stop her lips from curling up at the corners.

  Even though she pretended to be annoyed with my nagging, I knew she wasn’t. She w
as so transparent. It was one of the things that made getting to know her so easy. Her every thought, all her feelings, her heart—they were all on her sleeve.

  No apologies. No regrets. Just Estelle. Hard, but vulnerable. Wild, yet gentle. Crazy and kind.

  She was wearing her leather jacket again. And those fuck-me boots. And the red lipstick. It was almost enough to make me say to hell with the lesson and drag her sexy ass back inside.

  But my concern for her safety outweighed my desire to get her naked.

  “Now, we need to do something about this.” I pointed at the nonfunctional gages. “How long has it been like that?”

  She shrugged. “Only a few months.”

  Resisting the urge to scold her, I grunted. “Estelle, you’re playing with fire if you drive around in a broken vehicle for that long. What happens if you run out of gas?” Then I spoke my true concern. “I don’t want to worry about you after I’m gone.”

  “You’d worry about me?” she asked softly.

  My eyes met hers. “Every fucking day.”

  Biting her lip, she looked away. “I’ll get it fixed then.”

  Like I said—so transparent. Even in rare instances when she tried to hide, I could see right through her. She liked the fact that I’d worry about her.

  I liked it too. A lot more than I should.

  What had started off as something fun was turning into something more—for both of us.

  CHAPTER 16

  ESTELLE

  Why did Emery have to be so fucking perfect? I mean really, the guy had no flaws.

  I’d been actively searching. Waiting for him to slip up and say something rude or hurtful. Watching for the moment when he’d look at me with judgement or disdain because of my many flaws.

  It never happened.

  Waking up without him beside me was way more unpleasant than I liked to admit. As I ran my hand over the cool covers, I felt a stab of disappointment.

  It wasn’t like I expected him to stay—we’d already agreed it was best for him to go back to the RV before morning so no one would catch onto our tryst. He was doing it to protect me, and it wasn’t like we were in a relationship or anything.

  Still, it sucked.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I reminded myself to live in the moment. To enjoy this fun while it lasted. For now, I wasn’t alone.

  It was a Sunday, so we had the day off—a much-needed reprieve from filming. And despite Halloween being just around the corner, the costume shop was closed. It was one condition my aunt had when I took over the business. She’d said taking a day off every week was good for the soul.

  I puttered out to the kitchen to load up on caffeine. My only complaint about this arrangement with Emery was that we had most of our alone time at night—meaning I’d lost a lot of sleep.

  I’d just poured my coffee when my phone pinged with a text.

  Emery: Spend the day with me.

  Not a question—a demand. God, he was so hot when he got all bossy. And a whole day? I tried not to squeal with excitement, but I wasn’t very successful. My shriek was so loud, several of the cats bolted from the living room.

  Play it cool, Estelle.

  Me: Sure. That would be great.

  Emery: Can I get a tour of your shop?

  Giddiness made my fingers shake, and I was smiling like a loon.

  Me: Yeah! I’ll be ready in 30 minutes xoxoxo

  I hit send before I could think better of it, then read over the message.

  xoxoxo?! Not just one or two Xs and Os. Three of each.

  So much for playing it cool.

  Groaning at my awkwardness, I let my head fall back against the fridge with a thud.

  My phone pinged again, and I immediately felt better because Emery had sent some goofy cat emojis along with a heart.

  See? Perfect.

  Emery gave my fingers a squeeze as we walked hand in hand on the sidewalks of the downtown district where my shop was located. The funny thing about this area was that parking lots basically didn’t exist. Most of the spots were metered, which was one of the reasons I usually rode my bike.

  But I didn’t mind that we had to park a few blocks away. Sunny and seventy degrees, the weather was ideal for a short walk and perfect for the blue long-sleeved tee and skinny jeans I’d picked out.

  Pulling Emery closer, I rested my temple against his upper arm as we passed a pawn shop. Butterflies skittered in my abdomen when he dropped a soft kiss to the top of my head.

  Most of the businesses here had a hipster vibe with vintage clothing stores, coffee shops, and cafés. Musicians often set up on the street corners and played for anyone who would listen.

  I tossed a dollar bill into the guitar case of a dreadlock-sporting man singing an Ed Sheeran song. Not to be outdone, Emery threw a five in after mine.

  I poked his side. “Show-off.”

  He retaliated by hooking his arm around my shoulder, then he placed an open-mouthed kiss on my neck. I shivered and suddenly felt short of breath.

  “I can’t believe Turner’s is still here.” Emery nonchalantly pointed at the ice cream shop across the street, like he didn’t just turn me into a quivering mess of lust.

  “Believe it or not, I’ve never been there.”

  “They only serve four flavors, but it’s the only ones you need.”

  “Rocky Road?” I asked hopefully.

  His thumb grazed my collarbone. “I bet they could mix something up for you.”

  I nudged him away with my shoulder, linking our fingers once again. He needed to stop touching me like that if he didn’t want me to jump his bones in the middle of the street.

  “I keep forgetting you’re from here. You know this town way better than I do.”

  “Like the back of my hand.” He brought our clasped hands up to his lips and lightly brushed my knuckles. “My old studio apartment is that way, on the other side of the railroad tracks.”

  Glancing left as we crossed the street, I peered at the haggard structures in the distance. I spied graffiti, broken windows, and chain-link fences. “Not the best part of town, huh?”

  “No,” he replied simply.

  We were silent for the next block, and I studied Emery out of the corner of my eye.

  Whenever we were in public, I noticed his mannerisms were different. He kept his head down, his shoulders hunched. The red plaid button-up and dark-wash jeans he wore were a vast difference from the signature gray T-shirt he always had on for the show. And he didn’t try to push his hair out of his face, letting it just hang over his eyes.

  I knew why he did that. He was worried about being recognized, and I couldn’t blame him. Every outing was a risk. A risk he took for me.

  My shop came into view. Excited, my footsteps sped up and Emery laughed as I dragged him behind me.

  “What do you do when it’s not busy season?” he asked as we approached the brick-front building. The ancient wooden sign displayed ‘Estelle’s Costume Shop’ in big yellow letters. I’d thought about having it replaced with something more modern, but it was one of the things about the place I couldn’t bear to change when I remodeled.

  “I sell party supplies and sew new costumes in my spare time,” I replied. “And I do face painting.”

  Impressed, Emery raised his eyebrows. “You’re an artist too? Talented, beautiful, and you love cats. Are you sure you’re real?”

  He playfully pinched my cheek.

  I giggled. “It’s face painting. Believe me, I’m not winning any awards. I do mostly kids’ birthday parties or festivals. It’s a good way to bring in extra money year-round and I love it.” Turning my key, the heavy door opened and a jingle rang out. “I’ve changed a lot of things, but you’ll probably recognize the clown mural.” I pointed to the wall over the cash register. “It’s creepy as shit, but I like the history behind it. Aunt Estelle’s late husband painted it back in 1977.”

  “Still smells like lemons in here,” he commented, doing that adorable sniffing thi
ng.

  “It’s the wood cleaner,” I informed him. “A lot of these old buildings have the original woodwork. Adds character, but takes a special kind of care to maintain it.”

  Turning in a circle, he took in the front part of the store. It used to be crammed full of seemingly endless racks of costumes, but now it was mostly filled with shelves of gag gifts, party favors, and decorations. Only a few headless mannequins displayed popular costumes for this year.

  “It’s a lot like I remember it.” He walked behind the checkout counter to the adult-only section and picked up some penis-shaped suckers. “I believe these are new, though.”

  I nodded, eager for him to see the rest. “There’s more. A lot more. Most of my Halloween inventory is on the second floor. My aunt used to have an apartment up there, but it was time to expand.”

  “Well, show me the way.”

  As he followed me up the stairs, pride swelled in my chest at the renovations I’d done a year ago.

  The old floral wallpaper had been stripped away and replaced with a modern gray paint. Framed pictures of Hollywood icons lined the wall—Judy Garland as Dorothy, Elvis Presley in his white jumper, Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra.

  When we reached the top step, I happily bounced on my feet as Emery admired the space. The soles of his boots quietly padded over the hardwood floors as he made his way to the other end of the large room.

  “Holy shit.” He slowly walked the rows, running his fingertips over all the different fabric hanging on the racks. “How many costumes are here?”

  “About ten thousand. Most were already here when I took over ownership. My aunt was really proud of this place, and rightly so. She made a lot of the costumes herself. I’ve made about fifty in the last couple years and bought some new ones because they’re popular with the college crowd.” To make my point, I picked up a slutty nurse dress. “Gotta keep up with the times.”

  Emery laughed and took it from my hands. Then he held it up in front of me and licked his lips. “What would I have to do to get you to model this for me?”