Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“Well, non-monogamy isn’t for everyone, the same way monogamy isn’t a fit for others.” Julian shrugs.

“This is true.” I nod solemnly.

“Luckily for me,” he grins at me sweetly.

“Magnus and the boys have taught me how good I am at sharing.”

I wait a moment, wondering if there’ll be more to this tale.

“As for how Sol came into the picture…” Julian trails off with a mischievous smirk.

“I think that story is better told by Sol himself.”

By the time that Julian and I are done with all of our treatments and beautifications, it’s nearly the dinner hour. We pile back into my pink Cadillac and head back to Tern’s Nest for a quiet dinner and evening in.

Before he starts assembling the beautiful groceries in the fridge into an haute cuisine meal for two, Julian spirits me into his beautiful atelier—the golden light of sunset pouring in through the massive window panes, illuminates his incredible works in progress.

I ooh and ahh as he guides me to a table filled with bolts of fabric; cream colored satin, peachy pink chiffon, and nineteen momme silk the color of a perfectly smoothed blue-gray ocean pebble.

“They’re all so beautiful,” I sigh, dreamily.

“That’s just the beginning. I’ve more on their way from Italy as we speak. The next time we go to Milan, I’ll be sure to make more selections that flatter your coloring,” he grins.

I pause, allowing what he’s said to sink in.

“Julian… Are you going to make me something?” I ask dumbly.

He bursts out into a cascade of sparkling laughter, as if I’ve told a particularly hysterical joke.

“Are you kidding? All I want to do is make things for you!” He grabs my hands and swings me in a giddy little loop around the table of fabrics.

“Just the other day Magnus threatened to discipline me like the ‘old days’ if I didn’t stop doodling dresses, suits, fabulous jackets, and pajamas for you during our meeting with Ed Mammut,” he chortles.

The thought of wearing a custom piece by any designer, let alone Julian St.James, set my head spinning.

Julian must have been able to sense my approach into the territory of being overwhelmed, because he jumps in with a cheery, “is it time to have a glass of wine? We can get measurements another time, I’m famished—I don’t know about you.”

Happy for the diversion, I follow Julian back downstairs into the kitchen.

After an incredible dinner of seared scallops, fresh pasta, and a micro greens salad almost as beautiful as it was delicious, Julian and I clear the table and make our way upstairs to the nest proper.

“I went to the shop and spent entirely too much on all sorts of goodies for the bathroom,” Julian calls over the partial crescent moon wall that separates the luxurious en-suite bath from the rest of the boudoir.

I can hear him open the faucet on the enormous tub as I lay in the center of the massive circular bed on its crisp white linens, a little tipsy from the pinot gris I sipped heavily through dinner.

He hums quietly, the gentle sounds of water lapping as the scent of orange blossoms fill the air.

Like a sleepwalker, I slide off the bed, trotting onto the cool turquoise and gilt tile—my legs pressing together as I catch sight of Julian, already naked and sitting in the nearly empty tub—steaming water cascading into its huge, ovular basin from the huge brass faucet.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he cajoles, stroking his stiffening cock lazily as he lounges against the wall of the tub.

I don’t need to be told a second time.

I’m out of my clothes and tentatively dipping my toes into the hot water in the blink of an eye.

Julian reaches for me, helping me ease into the rising water, my back against his chest, his strengthening erection pressed into the cleft of my ass, laying against the dimples in the small of my back as I recline against him gently.

He purrs, the sound resonating through my shoulder blades where they press against him. His hands lift from the sweetly scented water to cup my heavy breasts.