Page 53 of The Producer: Aaron

Aaron frowns, and he studies me for a few seconds. The confusion that stands out on his face is evident. “Why should I go out with her?”

“Because she is better suited to be next to someone like you.” My insecurity shines through with every word. “It was enough for me to see how you interact in public to understand that I can’t compete with her. She’s one of those confident people who always has the joke ready. I am… me.”

The smile that appears on his face softens his features.

“The problem with all this reasoning is that I don’t like her. I likeyou, Dakota. I’m not interested in dating anyone else.”

“But you didn’t even look at me when you came to our table earlier,” I mumble, knowing I sound like a sulky little girl.

Aaron smiles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you really think I needed to come on this set today?” he asks.

It’s my turn to look at him, confused. It’s not normal for him to come here, but it has happened other times.

“I have no reason to be here today but I wanted to see you,” he continues. “I can’t concentrate this morning, and I foundan excuse like a fifteen-year-old boy who wants to see his girlfriend.” There is a bit of embarrassment on his face, and he pulls a smile from me.

“Really?”

He nods. “I didn’t come straight to you because I didn’t want gossip to start on set, but the truth is that I asked the director idiotic questions to have the excuse to come here,” he confesses, and my heart starts hammering back into my chest.

I smile. “Are you serious?”

Aaron’s face morphs into a sweet expression. It’s so different from the dark mask he wears with others. He gets up and positions himself in front of me and my gaze falls on the prominent bulge of his pants. I look up and find him with a smug smile when he notices my disbelief.

“Do you understand why I can’t come near you? If I flaunt my erection, the gossip will never end.”

I raise an eyebrow, pleased with my effect on him. “And how do you plan to get out of here in that state? Will you clear the area so you won’t have witnesses?”

He reaches out a hand and makes me stand, then grabs my pants and lets them down along with my panties to my ankles. The gesture is so sudden that a small cry escapes from my lips.

“You have to help me solve it,” he tells me before kissing me with such enthusiasm that there is no doubt about his attraction for me.

His desire is such that the arousal I felt since this morning when I left him in the kitchen returns, overwhelming me. I reach out to his belt and scramble to unbuckle it, going straight for the pants next. I slide them down to mid-thigh and the boxers with it. Aaron sits on the couch I just got up from and, witha mischievous smile on his face, drags me astride his legs. His erection presses on my most sensitive parts, making me moan and rest with my hands on his chest.

He takes my hand and carries it on his face, gently kissing my palm. “This is yours, Dakota.” He moves my hand over his heart as I observe his gestures. “This is also yours.” He descends to his erection. “And that’s yours, too,” he tells me, making me blush.

I look up at him and find him as serious and determined as ever. “I’m not a man who goes out with several women at the same time, and when I decided to sleep with you, it was a conscious choice.”

It’s a moment so solemn I can’t say anything. Any word would be trivial. He lowers himself, pulls his wallet out of his pocket, and grabs a condom. After tearing the wrapper with his teeth and slipping it on, he puts his hands between my legs and, with a decisive gesture, penetrates me with two fingers, making me groan.

“And this ismine, like all the rest of you,” he whispers, clasping my neck and dragging me to him. “If I find another man looking at you, I’ll tear his eyes out. If he touches you, I’ll tear his hands off because you aremine,Dakota, do you understand?”

I should tell him that no one owns me, that I belong only to myself, but I understand his irrational desire not to share me with anyone. The jealousy I felt toward Emma is precisely why I don’t reproach him that what he says is possessive and outdated. Aaron isminein the same way I amhis.

“I’myours, Aaron. I’m only yours,” I whisper as I slide on his erection and start to ride the orgasm that mounts inside me since he stepped in here.

There is no sweetness in this act. There is only the carnal desire to become one with him. I don’t want a Prince Charming. I wanta man who makes me feel his, who makes me feel that I belong to something that only the two of us can enjoy. I ride his cock, taking all the pleasure it can give me, making me feel dirty and alive at the same time. I ride him until I make him my own until the pleasure I pursue explodes in my core and makes me tremble. I collapse on his chest as Aaron’s thrusts become more powerful and he comes in an orgasm that shakes him.

He wraps his arms around my body and holds me tight. His heart has gone as crazy as mine in his chest, and we struggle to catch our breath. I’m trying to breathe and regain control, but it’s hard when his hand grabs my face and drags me to his for a kiss. His tongue makes its way between my lips in search of mine. He tastes it, possesses it, and marks it with an intensity that makes my head spin.

“If one day you decide to leave because you don’t find what you’re looking for with me, I won’t stop you. But until that moment, every part of me is yours, Dakota. Only yours,” he whispers as he caresses my hair, and my heart is lost in that bubble of happiness I didn’t know I craved.

I watch Dakota as she untangles herself from the safety harnesses that today’s filming required. She is so focused on one of the buckles that holds the safety hooks together her mouth is sulky. One of the assistants approaches her and places a hand on her belly to help her remove it. It’s an innocent gesture, purely professional, but her smile to thank him when he frees her from the constraints makes my blood boil. An utterly irrational reaction but no less violent.

My first instinct is to go over there, break the boy’s hands, and then fire him. My reason is lost in the fumes of possessiveness when it comes to her. I’ve never been such an irrational man, especially regarding women. I stifled that instinct a long time ago when I discovered women often want something professional out of a relationship. Yet, the women I dated before couldn’t be more different from Dakota, both physically and in character. They expected me to chase them, well aware of their beauty, and took for granted I offered some step forward in their career in Hollywood. Dakota is the exact opposite. She doesn’t let herself be influenced by my bullshit, and I like this about her. I’m tired of people kissing my feet because of my position.

Dakota looks up and crosses my gaze. First, she is surprised, then a little embarrassed, and finally, her expression turns puzzled. She walks toward me hesitantly.

“What are you doing here? Am I in trouble?” she asks seriously as if I had shown up here just to scold her.

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