THAT MAN: Holiday Box Set Books 1-5

by Nelle L’Amour

He was inhaling the scent of the Gloria’s Secret shampoo I’d used forever. Very Cherry Vanilla. Without responding, I stepped away and glanced down at my watch. “We should get going so we don’t go into overtime.” Overtime drove up the cost of production, and Blake had warned me Don was notorious for this.

  “Oh, so you’re a network cop. If you know what’s good for you, sugar, don’t fuck with me.” Snarling, he stomped off.

  I felt shaky and was having second thoughts about being able to handle Don Springer. My confidence was more than a little shattered. I took a deep breath. You can do this, Jen. Yes, I can, I convinced my conscience. After another calming breath, I quickly checked the buff male contestants to make sure they were wearing condoms. A law had recently passed in California making their use mandatory in adult entertainment; for this reason, a lot of productions had moved to Vegas where they weren’t an issue. My eyes got a cockful, but to my relief, their condoms were in place. God, I so didn’t want to be doing this.

  Eager to get away from Springer and the contestants, I headed upstairs to the director’s booth. Blake had told me this was the best place to watch the taping as I could see what was being captured by all the cameras. The room was small with a console and a dozen monitors. I took a seat behind the console waiting for the director. To my shock, in walked Don Springer. Unbeknownst to me, he was directing tonight’s final episode.

  “I hope you like company,” he sneered, lowering himself into the swivel chair right next to mine. Unfortunately, there was no other place to sit. He deliberately brushed his hard thigh against mine, and I jumped. Hastily, I rolled my chair away from him.

  “Don’t be such a prude, sweetheart.”

  “My name’s Jennifer, and please act professionally.”

  He snickered. “I’d like to take whatever pickle you have up your hole and fuck you up the ass.”

  My body quivered. Part of me wanted to run. What was I doing here? I was so out of my element. I should be overseeing children’s game shows, not this pornographic crap.

  Don’t let him intimidate you, I told myself. “Please, Mr. Springer, let’s get on with the show.”

  “Or do you like it this way?” He gave me the finger. I inwardly shuddered and said nothing. To my relief, the taping began. I pulled out a notebook and pen from my briefcase to take notes.

  The game show was simple. The three naked couples competed in rounds of sex trivia questions that ranged from spelling words like cunnilingus to naming what country has the highest rate of gonorrhea. The couple with the most points at the end of each Q&A round got to ride the spinning Wheel of Pain and fuck until they could no longer take their tortuous reward. Whatever couple lasted the longest on the Wheel by the end of the game won $10,000 and a trip to Vegas. I couldn’t believe people would actually subject themselves to so much torture and humiliation, let alone bare themselves and fornicate publicly. Equally horrifying to me was the millions of men who watched this shit. Though the Wheel of Pain’s ratings were the lowest on SIN-TV, it still attracted a sizeable audience. Why did Blake have to make this kind of programming? And why did he make me oversee it?

  My stomach churned as I watched the show being taped. I wanted to close my eyes and cover my ears, but I had a job to do. A boss to please. The fornicating couples were as repulsive as the physical gags, which included having green slime poured over them, ice cubes dumped on them, and lastly, to my utter horror, a beehive tossed at them. Equally repulsive was Don Singer.

  “Camera Three, move in tighter on the spick’s cock. Just fucking do it.”

  “Camera Two, for God’s fucking sake, get a wide shot of the bees.”

  “Camera One, stick it in Carla’s pussy. Now!”

  “Give it to him harder, you horny fucking fat bitch!” he yelled as Carla rode Carlos, both screaming and writhing as bees repeatedly stung every inch of their naked bodies. Including their genitals. A wave of nausea rolled through me. I actually had to turn away.

  Don slid his chair over to mine and breathed down my neck.

  “Having fun yet, Ms. McCoy? Does watching this make you wet and horny?”

  Rage mixed with nausea. Keeping my head bowed, I bit down on my tongue and tried to focus on my notes. I couldn’t. Carla and Carlos’s shrieks of agony resounded in my ears.

  “Get me out of here,” sobbed Carla as angry bees buzzed around her. “Please!”

  Get me out of here. I’d had enough. Springer had taken things too far.

  With all the bravery I could muster, I stood up and faced him.

  “Mr. Springer, you need to stop production. This is unacceptable.”

  He swirled around in his swivel chair. “What the hell are you talking about, bitch?”

  “The bees are too much. The contestants can’t take it anymore.”

  “It’s the fucking season finale. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I’m not shutting down production.”

  Close to tears, I barked two words: “Do. It.”

  Springer slammed his fist on the console so hard it shook and then shouted into a microphone. “Stop the fucking wheel. And everyone get your ugly asses out of here.”

  I sighed with relief as I watched the wheel come to a halt. Poor Carla and Carlos. Their bodies were covered with red welts from the bee stings, and they were violently shaking. The only, little comfort I had was watching Carlos wrap his swollen, mutilated arms around his whimpering partner. At least, he cared more about her than winning this sick game.

  “I have a few other notes.” My voice faltered.

  “I gotta get out of this hellhole. Give ’em to me downstairs.”

  Having no choice, I followed him as he stormed out of the booth and headed back onto the set. Everyone was gone including the crew. Only a few buzzing bees remained. My nerves crackled with apprehension. I didn’t like being here alone with Don Springer. The faster I could give him my notes, the better.

  Standing beside him before the Wheel of Pain, I opened my notebook. It shook in my hands. Before I could give a single note, he wrenched it away and flung it across the soundstage. His face reddened with rage.

  “No uptight little bitch tells me to shut down my production.” He jerked me against him.

  “Let go of me!” Writhing, I tried to free myself, but his grip was too powerful.

  “Tell me, why the fuck did you do that?” His fetid breath heated my face. I turned away from him. He pinched my cheek. “Answer me.”

  I winced. “My boss, Blake Burns, gave me the authority to make decisions.”

  “That fucking prick.” He squeezed me tighter. He was hurting me. I could hardly breathe.

  “The contestants were in too much pain.” The words barely made it out of my mouth.

  “I’ll show you pain, you cunt.”

  Only one person had ever called me that. That night. Sophomore year. Don cut the painful memory short and shoved me into the capsule on the wheel.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped. My inner panic button sounded.

  “You’re going for a ride, you little ho.”

  The monster stomped on a large button on the floor and then, to my horror, hopped into the capsule. The wheel began to spin. As it ascended, he tore off my blouse and tossed it onto the set. I heard the pearl buttons ping across the floor as he slammed me down onto the cushion. His wretched eyes held me prisoner.

  “Let go of me!” I screamed as he pinned me down by my shoulders.

  “Shut up!” He slapped me hard across the face and then groped my quivering breasts. Fear filled every crevice of my being.

  “Stop it!” I cried, futilely fighting him off. If only I had my purse, I could use my pepper spray. But in my angst-out state, I’d left it in the booth.

  He squeezed my nipples and laughed. “Do you let that asshole boss of yours do things to you?”

  “Let go of me. Please.” As I twisted and turned, a sharp pain pierced the back of my hand. For sure, a bee had stung me. Tears stung my eyes. Sobs wracked m
y body.

  “Shut the fuck up and spread your legs, bitch. Or I’ll do it for you.”

  I watched with wide-eyed horror as he zipped down his fly, and his dick, a thick wad of repulsive pulsating flesh, sprung from his pants. He thrust himself on top of me, crushing me with his weight.

  “I’m going to ram you like a jackhammer. Make it so it hurts to walk, slut.” He began to rip off my skirt and panties at once. “You’re going to pay for what you did, cunt!”

  “No!” I cried out at the top of my lungs. Hot tears poured from my eyes. Desperately, I tried to fight him off, but his weight held me down. My sobs and screams filled the air. Oh please, God, no!

  Then, as if my prayer had been answered, another voice roared. Three magical words.

  “You fucking bastard!”

  The End of Part 1

  THAT MAN 2

  NELLE L’AMOUR

  PRAISE FOR THAT MAN 2

  “This is a 5-star book in a 5-star series and is sure to make you melt. Blake Burns lights up the pages with his Alpha attitude. He’ll leave you screaming, ‘MORE!’”

  —Random Musesomy

  “Sweet, sexy, amusing, and unforgettable. Be prepared for another hot, sexy, and humorous read.”

  —Love Between the Sheets Book Blog

  “The chemistry between Blake and Jennifer is amazing! I felt like I was there with them.”

  —SubClub Books

  “Is it possible to love Blake even more than I did? A resounding YES!

  —Goodreads Reviewer

  “Packed with more intense romance and suspense that will just blow your head into the water. Amazing!”

  —Whispered Thoughts Book Blog

  “Funny, sexy and sweet. I love Jennifer and Blake.”

  —Winding Stairs Book Blog

  “Aagh! I need more now! I love this series.”

  —Twin Opinions Book Blog

  “Hot, heavy, steamy. On the wall, on the floor, everywhere steam!”

  —Three Chicks and Their Books

  “Highly recommend if you want a funny, sexy, quick read with a strong heroine.”

  —The Book Bellas

  “I adore Blake! So many one-liners had me chuckling out loud.”

  —Adriane Leigh, USA Today Bestselling Author

  “Blake will make you laugh out loud and wish you could have him with you in your bed.”

  —Arianne Richmonde, USA Today Bestselling Author

  “Should be called ‘What a Man!’ Awesome book. Incredibly sexy and hot!

  —Amazon Reviewer

  THAT MAN 2

  Copyright © 2014 by Nelle L’Amour

  All rights reserved worldwide.

  First Edition: March 2014

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

  No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without the author’s permission. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this ebook at the authorized online outlets.

  Nelle L’Amour thanks you for your understanding and support.

  To join my mailing list for new releases, sales, and giveaways, please sign up here:

  NEWSLETTER: nellelamour.com/newsletter

  Cover by Arijana Karčic, Cover It! Designs

  Proofreading by Karen Lawson and Gloria Herrera

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  Dedication

  To my A-list—Adriane, Arianne, and Artemis. And my readers. I love you dearly.

  Chapter 1

  Blake

  I was playing with one of the snow globes my mother designed every Christmas—her special gift to all her friends as well as my father’s. I had a collection of them on the credenza behind my desk. The one in my hand had a tiny angel inside. I shook it, and glittering snowflakes fluttered over the delicate sculpture. My mind jumped to another angel. A real life one. Jennifer McCoy. Her angelic face with those liquid green eyes and turned-up rosebud lips filled my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  It was almost eight o’clock. I set the whimsical sphere back down on my credenza and glanced out of my corner office window. The mid-December sky was dark and eerie with the full moon shrouded by a cloud. The taping of Wheel of Pain would be over soon. I wondered how Jennifer had fared. It was her first time overseeing one of SIN-TV’s adult game shows. Producer Don Springer was a lowlife prick, but he knew the rules. Never to fuck with network personnel. But I was worried. Jen was a nice girl, and she’d probably never dealt with his type before. In retrospect, I should have never asked her to do the job. Guilt and apprehension ate away at me. Shutting down my computer, I decided to head over to the set. To make sure she was okay. To be honest, I just plain and simple wanted to see her.

  All afternoon, I couldn’t focus on my work. My cock was twitchy. I kept thinking about my lunch with my bud, Jaime Zander, and his twins. Jennifer had joined us, and she was so damn cute with those babies. There I was contemplating fatherhood, and I’d never even considered myself boyfriend material. Yeah, I wanted to fuck her. But I also wanted to cuddle her. And talk to her. Why did I always have so much fun with her? I never spent any quality time with my hook-ups. They were just good fucks. I bedded them at my fuck pad and bid them good-bye. I felt different about Jennifer. She was special. Feisty. Smart. Ambitious. And funny too. So different from all the women I’d been with, even physically. My usual type was a blond supermodel; Jen was petite and brunette. Yet, I was insanely attracted to her. There was a chemistry between us that made me snap, crackle, and pop. I found myself eager to go to work just to see her, and when she was away from me, I missed her. Though I’d known her for only a week, we’d shared so much—including one unbeknownst kiss of epic proportions. The memory of that blindfolded kiss made my blood race and brought a smile to my face. The smile was fleeting. There was one major problem. She was engaged. To Bradley Wick, DDS. Code name: Dickwick. Alpha me had no idea how to defeat the enemy. And he was such a dweeb. Frustration gnawed at me as I packed up to leave.

  I could have walked over to the studio, but it was late so I decided to drive. I’d probably split directly from the set and go straight home. Lately, I had no interest in going to my club and bedding my hook-up du jour; my coterie of regulars was not too pleased. Hopping into my car, it took me no time to get there. I pulled into the vacant spot reserved for me outside the building.

  After parking my Porsche, I headed into the vast hangar-like structure. The paunchy security guard was dozing. When he heard my footsteps, he bolted to attention. Mental note: You snooze; you lose. Time for an early retirement.

  Slightly flustered, he bid me good evening.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  “As far as I can tell,” he replied with a nervous smile. “Have a good evening, Mr. Burns.”

  With a nod, I passed through the entrance to a long hallway that led to the Wheel of Pain soundstage. As I neared it, a woman’s shrieks sounded in my ears. They were clearly not coming from a contestant desperate to climax but rather from someone desperate and frightened.

  “Stop it!” she screamed out, and in an instant, I recognized the terrified voice. Jennifer’s. My heart thudded. I raced down the corridor. Fuck. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Another scream pierced the air followed by a loud wail.

  Breathing heavily, I yanked open the door to the studio. My eyes grew wide and my pulse went into overdrive. Springer had her pinned down on the spinning Wheel of Pain and was devouring her. He pressed his husky body against her slight one, pawing and gnawing her like a fucking wild animal. Bees were swarming above them.

  “Let go of me. Please!” she cried out.

  Unaware of my presence, the monster sprung his shit-ass ugly cock from
his pants and told her what he wanted to do to her.

  Not a chance in hell. I sprinted to the wheel, and with all my body strength, I stopped it, bringing it to a sudden halt at my feet.

  “You fucking bastard!” I yanked Springer off Jennifer and sent him sprawling onto the floor.

  Daggers shot from my eyes. “God fucking damn it, Springer. You know the rules.”

  Red as a beet, he tucked his skank cock back into his pants and staggered to his feet. He sneered at me. “The bitch led me on. This was her idea.”

  I tightened my fists against my thighs so I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him or strangle him. “Don’t fuck with me. This is not the first time. Springer, you’re fired.”

  “Fuck you, Burns. There’s no show without me.”

  “No problem. No show. It’s cancelled. Get the hell out of here.”

  “You’re gonna fucking pay for this, you fucking piece of shit.” Zipping up his fly, he stormed off.

  I immediately lifted sobbing Jennifer from the wheel into my arms and away from the angry bees. Her tearful gaze met mine. It was an unblinking combination of shock and relief. With her arms wrapped around my neck, she rested her head against my chest.

  “Talk to me, ba—” I stopped myself before I called her baby. It felt so natural to call her that, especially cradled in my arms. Her mouth parted, but no words came out. I grew more anxious. Almost panicky.

  “Jen, are you okay?”

  Whimpering, she nodded. Her lips trembled and tears rolled down her face.

  “Fuck. You’re not okay. Did he r—?”

  “No,” she choked, cutting me off before I could say “rape you.” She was shaking all over. Shivering. The bastard had ripped her blouse off. She was in my arms in just her bra—surprisingly a white lacy one. I took in an eyeful of her breasts. They were beautiful. Perfectly formed. Not too big, not too small. The size of champagne saucers. They quivered in the delicate fabric that encased them. I glanced down at her blouse, crumpled on the floor. It was clearly unwearable. Torn off pearl buttons were scattered around it, and I could detect a large tear by the collar. Her teeth chattered. The sound chewed at my heart, ripping it to pieces.