Page 16 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

Augustus leans over, reaching for a notepad in the corner of his desk. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and his reach causes a gap between his shirt and body to form, andfucking shitI can’t help myself—my eyes go to the tanned skin exposed there, and the smattering of dark hair running down.. down..down.

Lance, who has silently come to my side without my awareness, clears his throat. My head whips to face him, and I find him…glaring at me. Fuck. First I’m caught eavesdropping and now I’m caught checking out the boss.

In a low tone, he whispers, “Get a good look?”

Cheeks aflame, I look back to Augustus, and paste on a smile, waiting for further direction. This Lance guy is a real fucking asshole, isn’t he?

“While here, you’ll learn the art of directing some of the most intimate scenes,” Augustus starts and because this morning is already a shitshow on wheels, I snort.

Snortat his words.

He lowers the notepad to the desk and rightfully glares at me. And for reasons beyond me, I say, “Sorry, just… you know, calling pornintimate.”

As soon as the words drift out of my mouth, I know I fucked up. I know it by the way both men pinch their gazes on me, Augustus’s jaw grinding, his neck filling with strain. He tempers his voice as he says, “Adult films. We do not call it porn. And I’d advise you to adjust your attitude while you’re here, Miss Parker. Because these are real, hardworking, talented actors and actresses and your shitty judgment has no place here.”

He grabs the notepad and comes around the desk, handing it to me. I take it quickly, clutching it to my chest. “I’m–okay,” I mumble. And a moment later, he’s gone.

I turn to face Lance. “What am I supposed to do?”

He rolls his eyes.He rolls his fucking eyes at me!Who the fuck rolls their eyes to someone’s face like that? It is so… wait.I do that. All the time. I glare back at him, because even though I said the wrong thing, this guy has no right to be an asshole tothislevel. I only roll my eyes at Winnie because we’re best friends.

We stand there, glaring at one another for a moment before he says, “Augustus wants me to take you around the studio and introduce you to the cast and the crew working today.”

I look down at the notepad clutched to my chest. “Am I supposed to write people’s names down? He didn’t say what this is for.” My ponytail that rests along the center of my back suddenly feels like a fucking heating blanket, and I know if I had to lift an arm, I’d totally have pit sweat.

Ugh. This is not a good first day… and it’s only been fifteen minutes.

“Can’t remember their names because they’repornstars?” he asks, pursing his full lips at me with so much attitude it’s fucking contagious. And why are those lips so… hot? Perfect little cupid’s bow, full but not Matt Rife so. The back of my neck prickles with awareness.

“Wow,” I scoff, realizing I should check my attitude butthis fucking guy. “I was asking because he didn’t specify what I need the notebook for.”

“He,” Lance draws out with a snarl in his lip. An actual fucking snarl.This man. “Wants you to take notes,” he says, dragging out the last word like it’s a foreign language and he’s helping me understand. My nostrils flare. “Hence the name,notebook.”

One more dirty look and he’s blown past me to the door, stopping in the frame, one big hand clutching it as he turns back to face me. And holy crap. His hand is… big. Veiny. Thick fingers, big knuckles.

My pussy clenches against my will.Damn her.Don’t clench for this asshole and his hot body and fucking erotic hands.

Erotic hands. He has them. Asshole or not.

“Let’s go,” he snaps, and my first day as theporno protégébegins.

eight

That time we

augustus

“Fuck!”I growl as I toss a damp, balled up towel against the wall. I went for a run on my lunch break today, which I rarely—if ever—do. But I had so much fucking pent up frustration and energy that I was nearly vibrating. I had to do…something. And since lunchtime fucks are no longer a thing, a run was the only solution.

And I came back to the same situation that had me PRing five miles just now.

Arguing.

At first, I’ll admit, I liked that Lance and Brielle seemed to greatly irritate one another. Not as Augustus Moore, the revolutionary adult film director, but asAugustus Moore, the jealous, heartbroken asshole who knows the man he loves is gorgeous and brilliant.

Brielle is his type, too. Smart, quick-witted, and funny. Maybe that first day I hadn’t a clue she was any of those things, but as week one turned into week two, I could see what Ezra saw. I remember him telling me how happy he was to see that she applied for the program at the last minute, saying,she’s so fucking brilliant behind the camera but she’s convinced herself that she’s satisfied with trees, it’s a waste.

I see that now, that she wouldn’t have lived up to her potential in documentaries. Not that documentaries take less work or are any less special than any other film—no, I don’t mean to say that at all. What I mean is, Brielle embodies qualities that make a perfect adult film director. For one, she has an eye for blocking, and to know how to place people in intimate scenes. Second, she is eloquent as all hell, when she’s not being a brat, that is. We’ll be standing on the edge of a scene, the words not quite right, and Brielle will step into the frame, move the actor’s feet and the other’s head angle, utter a singular sentence for the actor to repeat and boom, fucking magic. And then she’ll just fold her arms over her chest and watch the scene roll on, as if it’s nothing.

---