by Mel Curtis
Cora had been taught early, in the chaos of her mother’s modeling world, not to show emotion. Outwardly, she was ice. Inside, she was in turmoil – blindsided shock, wonder, anger. And finally: She’d been replaced by this?
Cora shook out her napkin, then sat back and stared at Kaya. She didn’t know where Blue was living, but even if she did know, she wasn’t telling. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t talking to her or if he ever talked to her again. Cora wasn’t going to betray him anymore, especially not with her replacement bitch.
When Cora said nothing, Kaya swore.
“Never mind her.” Portia smiled at Cora. “What did you do last night?”
For once, Cora noticed the tension in Portia’s smile. Her friend was a great actress. Had their friendship just been for show? Why else would Kaya be here? Unless Kaya was using Portia, too. But Portia had been an Avenger all along, and she’d whined yesterday when Cora had been reluctant to tell her where Blue would be last night. Cora had caved for so-called friendship before promising Blue she’d stop. Look where that got Blue – a video sensation. He may never forgive her. And she’d betrayed him for what? The Hollywood veneer of friendship?
The extent of her gullibility prickled her skin, followed quickly by a sharp wash of anger. She’d been lied to, used, played. By two bitch-ass fakes. More if you counted the rest of the Avengers.
But Cora hadn’t grown up in Hollywood as Dooley Rule’s princess for nothing. She’d learned that to get her way she had to out-manipulate her father, one of the best mind-game players she’d ever met. All she needed was confirmation and these girls were going down.
To test the waters, Cora said, “Last night? I was getting my brains fucked out by Jack Gordon.”
A total lie, but Kaya’s face turned nearly as red as her hair.
Portia tittered nervously. “Such a kidder.”
To truly test the waters, Cora added, “And if I crook my finger, Cal Lazarus will meet me in the men’s room for a quickie.”
“Like Cal even knows you exist,” Portia practically hissed like the bitch-snake she was.
“She’s bluffing.” Kaya’s glare attempted to drill a hole in Cora’s confidence.
Cora’s heart was pounding, but she wasn’t cracking. “Jack has a lightning bolt tattooed over his left hip, just below the waistband of his boxers.” She glared at Portia. “I could tell Cal about your obsession with real fur. He’d never hire an actress PETA boycotts.”
“I should have dumped you long ago,” Portia said. “The only reason I didn’t was because of Blue.”
It was true then. All her suspicions. They landed with a heavy thud in her stomach.
These two deserved some serious payback. She could out-bitch them with a blindfold and last year’s Versace blouse. She didn’t have a blindfold, but she did have the repurposed Versace.
“You waited years until Blue noticed you were alive, Portia. And he dated you after Kaya. That’s got to hurt.” Cora stood, drawing Cal’s appreciative eye. She crooked a finger at him, then headed toward the men’s room.
Thankfully, he followed.
Cal checked the men’s room, then drew her inside and flipped the latch, trapping her against the door with a hand on either side of her head. He must have been a hottie when he was younger, because he’d hit middle age with a lean, muscular frame that was not a turn-off. The gray streaks in his hair beckoned for her touch. “Tell me what you want.” He spoke Cora’s language, husky with the need to burn the edge off.
“I want you…” She hooked her fingers on his belted waistband, and tugged him closer. “…to make me go oooohhh.”
He rubbed his cheek against hers and breathed into her ear. “Quid pro quo?”
She released a huffing pout. Older men. They couldn’t just fuck. “If you have a condom, I’ll be the first one to show some good will.” She unbuckled his belt, half turned on, but still mostly burning from Portia’s betrayal.
“So we’re clear.” Cal held himself very still. “This is only sex.”
“This was a bad idea.” Her hands moved to his chest, preparing to push him off.
“What I’m saying is…” His eyes were a heated, hungry brown. Cal leaned into her touch, a strong man with needs. If only he’d shut up. “If you’re an actress, I won’t give you a role just because you blew me. I don’t do that.”
“I’m not an actress.” Cora laughed, and unzipped his trousers, finding him impressively hard, if not incredibly long. “I just need to get my rocks off.” And get back at a bitch.
He produced a condom from his wallet and handed it to her. “I like it hard and fast.”
Common ground. “You and I will get along just fine.” Cora’s limbs began to feel the heat of excitement.
She twisted her hair over one shoulder and rolled the condom on, following it with her mouth. He was firm and responsive, pulsing against the swirl of her tongue around latex. She may have been a bitch, but she was generous when it came to pleasure, expecting a generous return. Cora raked her nails over his balls and worked his rod like a popsicle at risk of melting.
“Yes,” he groaned, digging his fingers into her ass, using the leverage to thrust deeper, faster, harder.
Cora panted. Doing him in a men’s room. His dick in her mouth. At any moment, some random dude could bang on the door. Who knew sex in a public place could be so hot?
Without warning, he came. She’d thought hard and fast meant pace, not minutes. Damn it. She still had moves to drive him mad and make her horny. She straightened, trying not to frown.
Cal was cleaned up and zipped up in less than thirty seconds. This wasn’t his first quickie with a stranger.
Again, Cora felt a twinge of unease. She’d gone from banging a guy in his thirties days ago to blowing a guy in his fifties. This had older man hang-up written all over it. Daddy issues out the wazoo. She tried to step away.
But Cal slipped his hands beneath her clothing. One hand thrust her bra above her breast. The other slid into her thong. “Tell me what feels good.” There was an efficiency to his tone, as if he’d grow impatient if she took her time climaxing. He probably had to get back to his lunch. Cal pressed his body closer, his knees spreading her legs apart.
It was hot and demeaning at the same time. “We don’t have to – ”
He pinched her clit at the same time as he pinched her nipple.
A jolt of sexual energy silenced her protests.
Cal nibbled at the column of her throat. “Do you like that?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he tugged her nipple. Hard. “Do you, honey?”
“It’s hot,” she said, hearing voices, hoping no man needed the restroom.
“It’s hot.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling down her spine and opening the valve on her juices. “But not hot enough for you.” He shifted the hand between her legs, sending his fingers on a G-spot dive, leaving his thumb on her clit. And then his hand moved like a rocking horse – back, deep, forward, squeeze. Repeat, repeat, repeat. He sanded her clit. He fucked her G-spot. And he worked her tit like he was squeezing juice from an orange.
The man was ambidextrous. And she was glad. Incredibly glad. Heat building, breath-stealing glad.
Someone knocked on the door.
“In a minute,” Cal called, adding in a hoarse whisper. “That’s all you’ve got, honey.”
A minute? She wanted to ride his hand forever.
He continued a back-and-forth rhythm that thrust her against the door, harder and harder. Pound, pound, pound. Her mouth was open, but she couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. He was groping and grinding, and she’d never felt so dirty, never felt so hot, never felt so...
Her body spasmed with hot, dirty pleasure.
She was coming and dripping and shaking and swearing off young men who didn’t know how to fuck a woman with just a hand.
Cal held her upright with that strong hand, her still mounted on his thick fingers. With the other hand he snapped her bra back in place and
yanked down her blouse.
She was coming down, knees weak, trembling.
“You work for your father’s foundation?” Cal pressed his thumb into her sensitive flesh, bringing her arching toward him. Another chuckle. Another shiver down her spine. “I’ve been thinking I need a life coach.” He yanked his hand free and left her standing propped against the door to wash his hands.
Cora wasn’t normally speechless. Not after sex. Not ever. She just felt so completely fucking weird, unsure if she should walk out with a slut strut or slink out the back door.
The douche on the other side of the door knocked again. “What the fuck? Are you reading the newspaper in there?”
“Your minute’s over, honey.” Cal ran his gaze down her body and licked his lips. “I like you.”
Her brain was coming back online. It commanded her hands to smooth and straighten her clothes and hair. She was still throbbing happily between her legs, but her stomach was clenched. Her stomach was never clenched after sex.
“I like you,” Cal said again, tucking a business card in the cup of Cora’s bra. “I’d like to do you again. But I’ve got a meeting.” He took her by her upper arms and guided her out of his way. “You can be my life coach. We’ll do this again. Soon.” Cal opened the door and left her.
A man with a paunch and a wrinkled button down stared at Cora with his mouth open.
Cora’s body heated with shame. She’d gotten her rocks off, but Cal implied he wanted to pay her for sex the next time. If she was his life coach…
Anger shuddered through her limbs. She would not be backed into a corner, even if she was the one who led Cal there.
This was Daddy’s fault. It was Portia’s fault. But mostly, it was her own damn fault.
And now she had to walk out of here past Cal and Portia as if her dignity hadn’t been pumped out of her like that orgasm she’d just had.
“Use me once, shame on me,” she muttered to her still-gaping audience. “He will not use me twice.”
Cora tossed her hair, raised her chin, and did the slut strut.
Chapter 16
“You’re not very good with men, are you?” Maddy asked as she and Blue sat in traffic trying to get back to the Dooley Foundation’s Santa Monica office.
Blue had been impatient with Professor Quinby, who’d clearly been living in his own head for far too long. Blue’s face had been clouded over since they left UCLA.
“I like women, if that’s what you’re asking. But you know that since you’re creating a show about my ex-girlfriends.”
“No, I mean you have no patience for men. You probably don’t have many close guy friends either. Why is that?”
There was something different about Blue today. She’d never have expected him to rise so vehemently to Ulani’s defense as he had earlier in his office. He was more than the Hollywood playboy she’d initially pegged him to be. Maddy itched to put a camera in her hands so she could try to figure him out.
“That’s ridiculous. I – ”
“When was the last time you went out with the guys?”
Blue tapped his fingers on his steering wheel. “Months ago. When I used to have a life.”
Her bullshit meter spiked.
“Probably longer.” Maddy angled in her seat, drawing up one knee to rest on the center console, so she could capture his reactions in her mental camera. “Let me pull some reverse Love Doctor on you. You’re more comfortable having female friends. That’s threatening to most women. They want to be the one woman in your life.”
Blue checked traffic as he changed lanes, cutting in front of a Jaguar and receiving the double Dutch salute – the horn and the finger. His dark expression never changed.
A week ago Maddy would have sat quietly and let the conversation drop. But she’d acquired a bit of chutzpah by standing up to Blue. “Your mom raised you, right? What does she do? Is she a schoolteacher?”
“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” He sighed. “Fine. My mom does hair for one of the studios.”
Maddy sat up so fast the seatbelt tugged her back down. “Oh, my God. You grew up in a salon. That’s like Gossip Central.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“That’s why you know so much about women and relationships.” Only the wishful side though, not the day-to-day reality, and certainly nothing leading to permanence.
“Don’t make such a big deal about it.”
“Can I interview your mom?”
“Back the hell off. There’s more at stake here than your precious reality show.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if pretending it was her neck.
“I’m sorry,” Maddy stiffly, straightening in her seat. “I’m passionate about my work.” And he wasn’t. Best to remember that or she’d get hurt worse than the minor cuts he made at her enthusiasm. Speaking of cuts, her mother had called to set up a time to review the accounting for the dry cleaning business. Maddy tugged at her seat belt, as if that would loosen the tightness in her chest. “I believe this show will change your life.”
Blue groaned. “I’m afraid of the same thing.”
“It seems to me you’d want change, seeing as how you’re hiding out and living like a monk.” He’d told her about the Avengers’ invading his condo, chasing him into hiding, and how he’d stopped dating. He was such an interesting contradiction of alpha and beta, choosing his battles to avoid hurting someone. She stared at the graffiti beneath an overpass. “Did your dad train you in his methods?”
“Not a topic of discussion.” There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.
She took that to mean no. “When’s the last time you dated?”
“You mean, when’s the last time I had sex? I’m not the sex addict those women make me out to be. I can go without sex.” But the burning gaze he sent her way belied his statement. It said he wanted to end his sexual sabbatical. With her.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Her mental viewfinder came in for a close-up of Blue rising out of the surf. Turned on. And naked. She swallowed. “You aren’t a sex addict. Or you would have tried to proposition me.”
Blue laughed, a rich sound that rumbled between them and between her legs. “Didn’t I? Yesterday?”
“That was a test.” One she’d passed, but not before learning he thought she didn’t like sex. “Can we stop for lunch? I’m starved. Your treat, of course.”
“I suppose you want nachos and a side salad.”
“What are you? A mind reader?” And if he was reading her mind did that mean she was on his girlfriend radar?
Blue spared her a glance, one hundred percent confident male. “I only mentioned nachos and salad because I just laughed and bruised your feminine ego. Nachos for comfort. Lettuce for token nutrition.”
Maddy relaxed into her seat. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.” The mind reading part. But what was she supposed to think about his perpetual need to please women?
“Good.” He smiled and patted her knee as if he were her Uncle Blue. “Let’s get wings.”
Hang on. “I don’t like wings.”
“But I do.”
So he wasn’t trying to please her like he had all his exes? Did that mean she wasn’t woman enough for him?
Come on, Maddy. Get your head out of your ass and focus on the project.
She cleared her throat. “What’s your schedule the rest of the day? Any other opportunities for filming? Any coaching on the schedule? I’d love some film of you actually applying the Rules to help someone.”
“I…uh…”
“That means yes! Fantastic. Who is it and what’s her relationship problem?”
“Later tonight I have a group session.” He didn’t sound all that welcoming, but he was navigating through heavy traffic.
“I promise to be discrete.” When he grunted, she changed topics. “Are you close to Amber?”
“How does that relate to anything we’ve been discussing?” So touchy.
“I th
ink it’s interesting how the three of you ended up working for your father’s company.”
“Sometimes you don’t have any choice. Obligations, like you said earlier.” His tone was arctic, much like she felt when she thought about working in the family business. He switched the spotlight over to her as deftly as he changed lanes. “What about you? How did your childhood mix with the family business?”
“Depressingly normal. I can’t remember not working there.” The sun was uncomfortably warm. She readjusted the air conditioning vents. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. That business paid for my college education, but cleaning and pressing gets boring.”
“I bet you asked so many questions you knew every client better than their mothers.”
Trust Blue to cut right to the crux. “I was always curious about where they’d worn something or how they got a certain stain.”
“And it’s nice to have a safety net, I bet.” He turned into the shadows of a multi-level parking garage. “If things don’t work out, you’ll have the dry cleaning business to fall back on.”
“Yes,” she said flatly, apprehension storming her insides. “There is that.”
“Blackie, welcome to my humble abode.” Winnie gave off an over-the-top sex vibe in her silver turban and plum-colored robe, which clung to her manufactured curves as if sewn on.
He was here to support Senge Tenzing in one of his father’s Freedom Transformations. He still had no idea how the transformation was performed. Hopefully, Maddy wasn’t going to find out he was clueless and expose him to the world with her sizzle reel. Hopefully, he could manage what she filmed and didn’t film.
A few feet inside the foyer, Maddy had her camera trained on him.
His tie suddenly felt like a noose and Mr. Jiggle’s carrier a sandbag. He waited for the trap door to drop. When the world didn’t crack open and swallow him whole, he stepped inside.
Go with the bluff.
Blue smiled winningly. “Winnie, you look lovely.”
Winnie planted some lipstick on Blue’s cheek, and then led him deeper inside her mansion, which had round ivory columns, stark white marble, and Roman statue reproductions. The vast impersonalness felt more like a mausoleum than a home. Although, Blue had expected something tackier – red velvet-covered furniture, a round bed and sex toys. Okay, that was his dad’s bedroom, but still...
