Page 134 of Wicked Fantasies

“Mr. Ransome,” the director’s assistant said. The annoying woman had shadowed him for three days, offering coffee, food and advice almost every other minute.

“What?” he barked.

She widened her eyes as if afraid of him, and he fought back a growl as he spotted the camera out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry, Paula. What do you need?” He watched her disappointment at his calm apology, and he realized she was also in on the scheme to provoke him to madness.

“There’s a woman here to see you. She insists that it’s very important.”

“Important?” he snapped, fed up with the constant interruptions. He wanted to be home in bed with Gwen, not here surrounded by this fake, talentless group of morons. “We’re in the middle of a scene. A scene that would have been finished two hours ago if these two had bothered to learn their lines.”

Fuck the cameras and fuck this show. If they wanted to see Ty Ransome in a rage, he’d give them their money’s worth. Screw Bernie and his warnings to clean up his act.

A figure moved behind Paula, distracting him, and he spotted Gwen, waving nervously from the edge of the set. His anger dispersed in an instant.

“Everybody take ten,” he shouted to the cast and crew. He could almost detect the sighs of annoyance as he walked away from them without giving them the money shot they were waiting for.

Fuck.

Was the whole crew conspiring against him?

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said softly as he approached her. He gave her a quick buss on the cheek, unwilling to subject her to the cameras and gossip that would surround her if word of their relationship got out. He knew the tabloid onslaught would be unavoidable eventually, but he wanted to spare her that for as long as possible.

“It’s time,” she whispered.

“Time?”

“I’m ovulating. We need to have sex. Now.”

His mind whirled at her words.

Ovulating?

Sex?

Now?

He started to question her, until he remembered the second story. “It’s Time” involved a young, married couple as they struggled to conceive. The sex life they’d enjoyed prior to their decision to make a baby had turned into a chore as the wife’s desire for a child began to rule the bedroom. Over the course of time, the husband started to resent the feeling of being treated like nothing more than a stud used for breeding.

“Gwen, I’m sort of in the middle of something right now.” Even as he spoke the words, he couldn’t believe she’d actually appeared here expecting him to have sex with her in the middle of a busy set.

“You said you were committed to this, Ty. We agreed to do whatever it takes to make a baby. I need you.” Her voice, though soft, was firm. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one could overhear them and misinterpret her words.

“Gwen, I?—”

“We have to hurry,” she said. He looked down at her body and he could see that she was certainly being honest about theneeding himbit. Her nipples were threatening to tear the thin material of her sundress and her face was flushed.

“Dammit, this really isn’t a good place or time. There are too many people. I know what you’re trying to do, Gwen.” He grinned, hoping to dissuade her with charm. “But let’s face it, the honeymoon isn’t over yet.” He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “I’ve yet to claim that ass of yours. Let’s wait a couple of weeks before we tackle the next story.”

“Now, Ty,” she insisted, her voice louder, carrying. He watched several stagehands pause to look at them.

“You’re making a scene,” he hissed.

“It’s time,” she repeated.

Already at the end of his rope, he felt the last straw break. “Fine. You wanna play this fucking game here, we’ll play it.” He gripped her arm tightly and directed her toward his trailer. He couldn’t mistake her quick intake of excited breath at his aggressive handling, and his traitorous cock sprang to life instantly.

Perfect, just what he needed. A bunch of cameras recording him dragging Gwen Preston to his trailer with a raging hard-on.

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