by Amy Valenti
NOT YOUR DAMN SUBMISSIVE
Amy Valenti
Copyright 2014 Amy Valenti
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I’m beyond pissed off with Callum Connors.
Yeah—the Callum Connors, star of my favourite TV show…and all my most private fantasies.
He’s a self-confessed Dom, and he wants me, even though I told him outright that I’m not interested in submission or in him.
But then I kissed him.
What possessed me? I don’t even remember who started it, me or him—just that I brushed against him, and then we were on the way to third base in the middle of the set.
Maybe I should have told him no again afterwards, but I just wanted to escape before he tried to take it further. I didn’t think I’d be able to resist him.
I still don’t.
Now he’s somehow thrown us together for two whole weeks, getting the studio to temporarily change my job from set decorator to his personal assistant. I can live with being his assistant, but I am not his damn submissive.
No matter how sexy he is.
NOT YOUR DAMN SUBMISSIVE
Chapter One
Kat
You owe me big-time for this, Cynthia. I smothered a yawn and hurried into the soundstage building, dodging a couple of lighting guys on the way.
“Hey, Kat—what are you doing here? I thought you had some time off?” one of them called after me.
“There was a little emergency. I’ll only be here this morning,” I yelled back, just before I barrelled past a ‘Quiet, Please!’ sign. I really wasn’t in the mood for small talk, not when I was supposed to be on a two-week vacation.
It was just after six in the morning. As an assistant set decorator, I would usually have been here, taking photographs of finished sets for continuity purposes before the actors got to work and messed everything up. Today I’d expected to still be in bed, but a phone call from my boss had nixed that.
I found Cynthia on her hands and knees in the middle of the living room set, peering under the sofa. No one else seemed to be around, which was unusual. Maybe the rest of the crew were having an early morning briefing.
“I’m here. What do you need?”
My statuesque boss got to her feet, looking harried. Dust stained the knees of her khaki overalls. “Sorry again for waking you up. Some dumbass decided to jump on the beanbag after filming yesterday. God knows how, but both the inner and outer seams split and now there are little polystyrene balls everywhere.”
I cast a glance around the set. Apart from there being one less oversized beanbag on set—admittedly a problem, since filming had started yesterday and the beanbag was scripted to be the main character’s favourite place to sit—everything looked fine. “You did a good job cleaning up. Why do you need me?”
Cynthia sighed and dropped a handful of beanbag ‘beans’ into a box serving as a trashcan, just off the set. “The author of Dark Hearts Broken—the original novel—stopped by last night. She hates the vampire’s bedroom set and is kicking up a giant fuss, so I’m gonna be in meetings all morning, starting at seven, if you can believe it. I didn’t even think authors got out of bed until noon. Jack is off sick with the flu—if you believe him—so I have nobody to run down to the supplier and get another beanbag.”
I nodded, letting my breath out in a rush. At least I wouldn’t have to hang around the set while the actors were doing their thing. “I’ll grab the photos and head down there now. What time does filming start?”
“Theoretically, eight-thirty. You have a little time, don’t worry.”
“Got it. Anything else?” I heard footsteps approaching and glanced around, expecting more production staff to appear.
The one man I’d wanted to avoid stepped into view. Of all the people, why did it have to be him?
Tall, dark and way more handsome in person than he was on the screen, Callum Connors was enough to make any straight woman swoon. He was on the lean side, but under his casual blue T-shirt were the sculpted abs and biceps I’d drooled over in One Last Look—not that I was thinking about that. He had slightly tousled hair, designer stubble to die for and eyes that I couldn’t bring myself to meet.
I’d booked the two weeks he was due to be here off work on purpose, just in case the rumours were true and he was…that type. Yet here I was on set after just one day off. With him.
Maybe it was fate. Or maybe I seriously had to get out of here before I actually drew his attention to me—
“Hey, sorry to interrupt. I’m waiting for my turn in makeup and I wanted to stretch my legs before I got in the chair.” He looked around at the cosy living room set. “Mind if I hang out here for a while? I know I have a trailer, but I like to get to know a set before I do a scene on it.”
Cynthia was clearly the more senior of the two of us, but his attention was on me. Oh, God…
I looked to Cynthia for her answer—I had no idea what she still needed to do to the set, and anyway, I had to get out of here.
“Fine by me, as long as you don’t jump on any of the furniture,” my boss said with a shrug. “Kat, will you stick around until Darren gets here and tell him not to panic about the beanbag? He shouldn’t be long. I have to go get my sketches and notes in order before the meeting. If I don’t look like I know what I’m doing in front of Ms. Not-My-Vision-Of-The-Books Cunningham, Casey will tear me a new one.”
I so very desperately did not want to be here right now. “I should head out to the supplier though, right?”
“It can wait. It’s only ten minutes down the road and the owner won’t be there until seven anyway.” With an absent-minded smile at Callum, she headed off in the direction of the props department.
Leaving me alone with one of TV’s brightest rising stars.
Callum walked onto the set as I glanced around for something to do. Anything. The trouble was, I was a set decorator’s assistant—by this point on a production, my job was mainly behind the scenes, preparing the components of sets for future episodes.
He sat down on the worn, comfortable sofa we’d found at an auction and looked around him. I observed him from the corner of my eye as I rifled through the drawer of the dresser for no good reason at all. The only things in there were a script page with some highlighted lines of dialogue and a candy wrapper, probably stuffed in there by one of the cast members before the director called ‘action’.
“So, what’s your name? What do you do here?”
Hoping I wasn’t showing my nerves, I turned to face him. “I’m Kat, Cynthia’s assistant—she’s the set decorator.”
“Huh. That’s gotta be an interesting job, deciding what the sets look like.”
“Actually, I don’t get a lot of say,” I explained, grateful for something to talk about. “Cynthia draws up a list of things we need and I help her shop for them, modify them, make sure everything’s positioned properly every day, stuff like that.”
Callum leaned back against the cushions, watching me. “They keep you busy?”
I clasped my hands together in front of me so I didn’t fidget. “My job’s pretty much done by this point. For these pilot episodes you’re shooting, anyway. I was actually supposed to be taking time off for the next couple of weeks, but Cynthia needs me to pick something up for her in about thirty minutes, so…”
“You’re at a loose end for now,” he finished up when I trailed off. His focus on me was intense, his voice so familiar, but with a slight Irish lilt he didn’t have in any of the shows I’d seen him in. “And you’re clearly nervous to be talking to me. I promise I don’t bite…unless I know it’d be welcomed.”
A tingle of mixed mortification and intrigue swept through me. Was he hinting at the rumours I’d heard about him—the ones that had made me decide to take time off in the first place? Or was he just joking around because of the vampire show we were working on? “Sorry. I don’t really get the chance to talk to actors most of the time.” What else could I say?
“We’re just people. Come and sit down—really, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
What if I want you to hurt me?
The thought skittered through my mind just as I allowed myself to meet his eyes, and realisation dawned on his face at the same instant. Followed by a slow half-smile that curled my toes.
“You heard what they say about me, Kat?”
The only way I was going to survive this without falling at his feet was to go on the offensive, put him off. With a pang of loss for an opportunity I’d never had in the first place, I folded my arms across my chest and scowled at him.
“What, about how you like to tie women up and hurt them for fun?”
His eyes narrowed just a little. “Could you make me sound any more criminally insane?”
“Hey, if the shoe fits…” I shrugged.
Callum looked me over for a moment before speaking—a slow up and down that made heat rise to my cheeks. “I think you know exactly what I enjoy doing to women. And I think you want me to show you what it feels like. Am I right?”
Yes.
“No!” I edged backwards as he stood up, that slight smile still on his face.
“Have you done it before, or only read about it?” Callum advanced slowly, as though trying not to spook me.
“I’m not interested,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
He stopped a foot away from me, body language relaxed and non-threatening, yet with a gleam in his eye that told me he was thinking about something entirely threatening.
“I can tell you want me, Kat. Doms notice these things.”
“You’re delusional.” I made a conscious effort not to rub my thighs together to ease the ache building between them. He was so close he could have put his arms around me, dragged me into his embrace, kissed me with those sensuous lips…
He shrugged, as if accepting he’d have to prove himself. “Your breathing is fast and a little shaky. Your pupils are dilated. And…”
Instead of completing his sentence, he flicked his eyes down to my breasts, his gaze lingering for long enough that I knew it was deliberate. Then he met my eyes again, amusement shining in them.
Conscious that I was playing into his trap, but unable to help myself, I glanced down to see two small, distinct bumps where my hard nipples pushed out the fabric of my shirt.
Shit! I knew I should have worn a padded bra today… I wanted to cover my breasts with my hands so badly, but that would be a show of weakness. He’d already taken a good, long look and was no doubt patting himself on the back for being such a stud. Bastard!
“You think you can have anyone you want just because you’re famous, don’t you?” With an effort, I kept my hands at my sides, needing to feel in control of the situation. If he wanted to keep looking, fine. Let him. “But what your press image doesn’t portray is that you’re an A-list asshole.”
“I’m never short of volunteers to share my bed, it’s true.” He looked me right in the eye, a spark of anger there now. “Do you think that makes me happy, Kat? Do you think they want me for me, or just for the thrill of being done by someone famous?”
I didn’t know how to answer, had to look away. When he put it that way, it must kind of suck.
“Oh, now you feel bad for me, huh? Where did Little Miss Badass go?” The edge was gone from his voice as though it’d never been there.
What the hell does he want from me?
The touch of his fingers against my jaw made me flinch, and I stared up at him, startled. The familiar face that had haunted my fantasies for months was just inches from mine, his expression analytical, almost intrigued.
He’s an actor. He’s probably playing you as we speak.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Just being near him was making me wet.
“There’s something inside you that wants what I can give you.” His voice was barely a growl, reverberating through me. I ached for him, knowing he was right. I’d never felt this strong a pull toward anyone before. He stole my breath, my ability to think straight, my resolve to resist. “And there’s a part of me dying to take what you need to give me. If we weren’t at risk of being interrupted, I’d put you on your knees right now. After tasting those pretty lips, of course.”
My pussy tightened, reminding me what kissing could so easily lead to.
“I haven’t been this hard for a woman in years, you know that?”
Powerless to stop myself, I dropped my gaze to the obvious ridge in his jeans and almost moaned as my imagination skipped ahead—to what might happen if I explored the area with my fingers. I held myself back only by remembering where we were. At work. Need to calm down.
He breathed in deeply, then let out his breath in a slow exhale before continuing, “The self-control I’m using to not press my cock against your hot little slit is almost killing me.”
I swallowed hard, trying to remember how to speak. “You’re assuming I would let you.”
Amusement flickered through the intense desire in his expression. “Still got a little fight in you, Little Miss Badass?”
“More than you think.” Stubbornness flared to life inside me. I’d been used by his kind before and it wasn’t going to happen again. I was older and wiser, and I knew better these days. “I’m walking away now.”
He raised an eyebrow—was that scepticism or respect on his face? “I’ll believe it when it happens.”
I sidestepped, bringing myself out of the tiny space between his aroused body and the dresser behind me, and looked away from him, steeling myself to leave. As I took a step forward my bare arm brushed his. Electricity zinged through me at the skin-to-skin contact. I turned, or maybe he turned me, and we surged together as if magnetised, his lips harshly connecting with mine, my fingers raking through his hair, his arms tightening around my waist.
Oh, God! He kissed as though we’d done this before, confident of his welcome, his tongue stroking against mine over and over. His hard-on pressed against my abdomen, enticing me, and I stood on tiptoe to rub against it, willing the layers of clothing between us away.
So much friction and heat just from a kiss—a kiss I’d sworn I wouldn’t give him. Damn it, he’d worked through my defences so easily, and now he was getting exactly what he wanted. Anger seeped past my arousal and I shoved against his chest, breaking the kiss abruptly.
He still held me securely; our lower bodies pressed together, and as his cock twitched against my overheated pussy I almost forgot why I was angry. I’d done a number on his hair, and he was breathing hard, just out of sync with my unsteady panting. For a moment I thought he’d drag me into another kiss. If he does that, you might get drawn in. Then you’ll never get away. What are you—stupid?
Genuine fear sent a fresh adrenaline spike through me.
Before I could draw in a breath to demand that he release me, Callum relaxed his grip around my waist. I tore myself free. He spoke my name and my knees weakened with my need to kneel at his feet, but a surge of outrage at my own failure made it easier to turn and rush out of his in
toxicating presence.
* * * *
Callum
For the first time since I’d read the script of this awful Buffy the Vampire Slayer wannabe pilot, I’d rediscovered my optimism. Something good might just come of this after all.
Willing my cock under control, I sat back down on the couch and shook my head. In just a few short minutes, that woman had gotten under my skin. Her long hair and large, dark eyes had drawn my curiosity. Her obvious desire to submit to me had hooked me, but it was her determination to resist her own urges that had really pulled me in.
It was possible she already had a Dom, but somehow I didn’t think so. It would have been easy to make me back off by telling me she was taken. Instead, she’d said she wasn’t interested, which I would have accepted if she hadn’t been clearly conflicted and just as aroused as I was.
That moment when her willpower had given out and she’d thrown herself at me… Fuck, she’d been responsive. I’d never experienced a connection like it before, in a vanilla relationship or D/s. If she hadn’t shoved me away I might have taken her right here on the set, and from the way she’d ground against my cock she would have loved every second of it.
Thinking that way wasn’t going to help me calm down. Sighing, I readjusted my jeans and tried to focus on anything but sex.
Wait. She’d said she was only here this morning, and was supposed to have the next couple of weeks off work. I would have no way to find her if I didn’t come up with a way to see her again.
I got up and glanced down the hallway in the direction she’d disappeared, but she was nowhere in sight. She’d probably gone to pick up whatever she was meant to get for her boss, and would be back later…when I was in makeup or filming. By the time I was free to go and look for her, she’d be long gone and I’d never see her again.
Kat was intriguing, but I was going to have to face the fact that spending more time with her would be impossible.
