Shutter: The Complete Series

BOOK: Shutter: The Complete Series
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Shutter: The Complete Series

 

 S.E. Dosher

sarahdosher.com

Copyright 2014 by Eli Chastain

Edited by Raelene Green of word·play by 77peaches, a division of 77peaches enterprises, LLC. | www.77peaches.com

Cover Design by Lindsay Sparkes of Cover Sparkle

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.  The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

All rights reserved.

Dedication

To all who are willing to take a chance on my guilty pleasure. 

 

Volume One

 

Prologue

 

Los Angeles is a place where the dreamers dream, and the realists squash the dreamers. I’ve lived here all my life and spent most of it as a dreamer. Head in the clouds, heart on my sleeve – dreamer. I like being a dreamer.

“Brook, get your head out of your pretty ass, and get up here and pose.”

I ignore the shouts, letting my eyes remain focused on my reflection – big hair teased into a bee hive, bright colors splattered with fake jewels streak across my face, and the corset they have me wearing is hoisting my B-cups up so high, even I’m getting turned on by my cleavage.

I don’t recognize myself. My signature dark brown hair is so brightly colored it looks like unicorns shit rainbows on top of my head. The eyes staring back at me aren’t mine. I’m losing myself in the different characters I portray in front of the camera. Modeling used to simply be about posing and looking pretty, which I can do in my sleep, but now everyone is pushing the limits on social norms, and I’m their ammunition.

I edge my thumb nail under a large jewel precariously close to my right eye and flick it off, watching as it lands perfectly on the mirror in front of me and sticks. I giggle. The next most annoying jewel is just below my nose; I send it flying toward the mirror, but it doesn’t stick. It bounces back and pings me right between the eyes. I blink and jerk my head back. I giggle again – I might be losing my sanity, too.

“Shit! What is she doing? Someone get her up here now!” the photographer shouts again.

“I think she might be high, or something; she’s acting really weird,” one of his lackeys says.

I wasn’t high; I was finally waking up from the dream I’d been sleeping through for the past six years. Before I even know what I’m doing, my hands reach for the makeup remover wipes and begin cleaning the brightly colored shit off my face. One wipe, two wipes, three wipes - this might take a while.

“What the fuck are you doing, Brook?” The photographer is standing directly behind me, his reflection visible next to mine in the mirror, and he isn’t pleased.

“I’m not doing this. This is ridiculous.” I wave my hand like Vanna White around my face and hair.

“You aren’t paid to decide the concept, you are paid to do as you’re told.” His face is bright red, and I’m honestly afraid the bulging vein in his neck might explode at any second. “Either fall in line, or get the fuck out.”

I turn to face him and say the truest words I’ve ever spoken, “I don’t fall in line…anymore.”

“Then you’ll never work in this town again. Security, please escort Ms. Beckham off the premises.”

Chapter 1

 

Five years later…

My breath comes in quick bursts as his tongue glides across the delicate skin of my inner thigh. My back arches off the bed as a moan rips from my throat. My vision blurs, my nerve endings having stolen it to heighten their own sensations. I feel his rough whiskers poking into my pussy as he moves higher. The wetness between my legs grows with every touch of his mouth. Finally, I feel the warmth of his tongue lightly graze my folds. My pelvis pushes against him, trying to deepen the pressure, and a small airy chuckle escapes his mouth.

“Such a greedy little girl; always in a hurry for pleasure.” His deep voice rushes up my spine like a blast of icy air. I love his voice, but I love it even more when I hear it coming from between my legs.

My long fingernails circle my nipples, fighting for more gratification, chasing the release I can feel building.

“Please, God, please,” I moan as my hips continue to search for more.

The bed shifts, and I can feel him teasing my clit with the head of his cock. He’s giving me exactly what he knows I want – him inside of me, pounding every ounce of worry from my mind. In one quick motion he completely fills me, and I know my orgasm is one more thrust away.

A shrill ringing rips me from my pleasure. My eyes open to my dark, dank bedroom. The shrilling sound comes again. I blink several times, finally realizing the sound is my cell phone.

“This better be good, Paul,” I groan into the phone.

“Niko is here, where the hell are you?” My best friend since grade school yells at me over the blaring music in the club he manages – Club Blasé.

“I’m off, I can’t handle staring at him tonight. I’m tired of all the beautiful; it’s blinding,” I whine.

“Shut the fuck up, B. You’re the one that’s blinding.”

 “I was asleep, having a really good dream,” I admit.

“Well, finish that business and get your ass down here; Suzy is here!” He abruptly hangs up, knowing the mere mention of her name will send me rushing out the door, chomping at the bit for the inevitable drama.

I love Paul. He’s the only constant friend in my life, and he knows everything about me; yet, he is still willing to accept me. After I walked away from the money and fame, my friends walked out on our friendship. He was my only friend to stick by me during the fallout; when I lost everything, and had to resort to bumming off my brother for a roof over my head. I’d be even more of a mess without Paul.

The glowing clock on my nightstand says it’s only midnight, meaning I have time to relieve the yearning between my legs – since I know it will take approximately ten seconds until my body shudders with satisfaction. I run my hands down the thin tank top covering my body and under the waistband of my cotton panties. My middle finger glides through the velvety wetness left behind from my thoughts of him, his body, his touch - all of him. I slowly circle my clit, longing to draw out the pleasure while I can still hear his voice caressing my ears.

His face dances across the backs of my eyelids; dark eyes shrouded with dark brown hair and whiskers that tease my cheeks with his every movement. I picture his body on top of mine as he thrusts in and out, then in again. The strain his exertion has on his entire body is apparent in the thrumming of his neck. I envision him lifting my leg up and resting it on his shoulder, so I mimic the same pose. My eyes clench tight so I don’t lose him.

My fingers skillfully and deliberately work me closer, and closer, to the edge. In my mind it’s his finger, his body leading me to my pleasure, not my own. Tightness ripples through my core as I give my clit one last caress before I fall off the cliff and surrender to warm contentment.  

***

The taxi pulls up to Club Blasé, allowing me to see all the bloodthirsty leeches with their cameras. The sight makes my stomach turn, knowing I’m one of them. They’re lined-up down the sidewalk, waiting for anyone with name recognition to foolishly stumble into the street. Pure opportunists, amateurs – luckily, I have an in.

There are two types of celebrity photographers; those that wait for their victim to venture into public to get their pay day; always allowing some small semblance of privacy. Then there are those lurking in the shadows, steadily invading private lives, hunting and searching for the most intimate of shots; that’s what I have become - I found my inner peeping Tom. Niko had effectively turned me into his personal stalker.

It wasn’t a rapid transition, but once I felt the steady movement toward obsession there was nothing I could do to stop it – I didn’t want to stop it. I’d been looking for an escape, for something that made me feel whole – connected. I found that with Niko. The first time I captured him in the shutter of my camera, time stood still and an invisible connection formed. I am currently held together with stitches and bandages made of Niko. A dull shadow of my former self, my time to shine was years ago.

Fighting my way past the crowd of leeches, I find a path to the side door and easily gain access to the club. The bodyguards know me because of Paul, but I still grease more palms than I’ll ever admit in order to get my shots. Every single payoff I hand out cuts into my profit from any shot I’m lucky enough to get.

Paul is entertaining a large table of young men in the back corner of the club – his favorite kind of clientele. He nods his head in the direction of the VIP section then raises a shot glass to me, downing the dark brown liquid effortlessly. He only drinks on nights the club fills fast, the booze flows easily, and the money rolls in. Tonight is obviously a good night.

Right on cue, I hear a high-pitched laugh and turn to see a bottle-blonde straddling Niko’s lap. He always picks the blonde-haired, big-boobed bimbos – I am neither of those.

The crowd between me and the object of my desire is thick and lustful. The young looking for a good time, and the old looking to feel young. I squeeze and push my way through each of them; their sweat musty as their skin clings to my body. My smallest camera bag, reserved for nights like this, sits crisscrossed along my mid-section and resting at my hip. Luckily, I can get by without my telephoto lens since I am able to get close to him in this club.

I shake hands with the oversized VIP security guard, also palming him a payoff, before slipping behind the thick, dark curtains surrounding the back side of the restricted area. Creeping around the side until I find the perfect spot then I aim my camera lens through the slit in the curtains and see his face clearly in the display. His eyes are heavy with lust, his lips parted as the pace of his breath increases with the rise and fall of his chest.

Yup, he’s gonna fuck this one, too. Not that I expect anything less.

She’s pretty, in a skanky, been-around-the-block-too-many-times kind of way. I guess she is a catch if you like that sort of thing, and I know Niko definitely does. She’s prime, grade-A beef to him.

My eyes remain glued to his face as she runs her tongue along the edge of his bottom lip and traces along his jaw bone. His dark eyes disappear as his eyelids slowly close from the sensation. The pounding in my chest increases; it always does around him, but especially when I see him with another woman. It is as much a rush as it is a turn-off. I want to be the woman currently grinding on top of him, but seeing the pleasure she gives him makes the pulsing throb between my legs quickly return.

I click the shutter to get several shots then pull the camera back into the shadows, keeping them parted with my hand just enough to still see. I watch anxiously as his hand travels up her outer thigh, pushing her short skirt up and threading his fingers through the fabric of her lacy panties. A swift exhale leaves my lungs. His middle finger stays under the side of her thong as it slowly sweeps across her smooth butt cheek until it disappears between the two of them. The girl detaches her lips from his neck and tilts her head back as she slowly rocks her hips back and forth.

“Get off him!” a woman screams, followed by a commotion coming from the veiled entrance to the VIP area.

The edges of my mouth turn up at the familiar voice – Suzy. I hate Suzy, but I also have a weird kinship with her. She is essentially me, but the crazy, in-your-face version of me. As much as I stay hidden in the shadows, she stays as present to Niko as she can - usually lingering on the fringes, but always visible. She also makes money off her obsession, but she sells things she steals from Niko, instead of selling photographs of him. The main difference is she has fucked Niko before; whereas I’ve never even so much as spoken to him. So actually, maybe we are a little closer on the crazy spectrum than I’d like to believe. At least she has a concrete reason for her insanity, while my obsession is merely in my head.

Niko’s head falls to the back of the couch in frustration, causing a rare true smile to cross my face. Suzy dodges the first approaching security guard by circling a large round table. Then she runs full-force toward Niko, but her eyes are aimed at Blondie, who doesn’t even see her coming. Suzy’s hand grasps long locks of wheat-colored hair and she yanks with all her strength, sending both of them falling to the floor. Niko’s head is still lying back, like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world.

BOOK: Shutter: The Complete Series
11.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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