Playing the Perfect Boyfriend (Gone Hollywood)

by Julie Particka

  “It’s true. And it’s also true that it doesn’t say a damn thing about touching ourselves.”

  Oh. Not nearly as much fun as he’d secretly hoped. “Is this the point where you’re going to force me to listen to you masturbate as punishment for dragging you here?”

  She laughed, and the sound carried through the screen to reverberate around his room. “I’m not that evil a sadist. I had something a lot more fun in mind—a game, of sorts. So, here are the rules. No looking through the screen, this is an auditory-only game. And each of us gets just one guess per turn.”

  “What exactly are we doing that the other person is guessing?” He had a pretty good idea, but he wanted to hear her say it.

  She gave a lusty sigh that had him getting hard before she even spoke. “It’s a guess-the-sex-noise game. We’ll be touching ourselves, and the other person has to guess what we’re doing—or what we’re imagining the other person is doing. Details don’t have to be exactly right.”

  Dean’s mind flashed to the memory of her on her knees in front of him wearing that French maid uniform, breasts bared as she moved to take his dick in her mouth. He let out a groan of need and said, “Is there a prize involved in this game?”

  “We start with fifteen minutes of road-pleasuring on the drive home tomorrow. Every wrong guess docks a minute from the time.” She paused and licked her lips—the seductive movement broken up by the lines of the screen. “So, if you want me to suck that glorious cock of yours to completion, well, let’s just say I hope you know me better than this trip implies you do.”

  Dean swallowed hard, the memory of the last blow job from Jade crystal clear in his mind. “I hope so, too.”

  “Then let’s get naked and play.”

  It took less than a minute to strip and lie on the bed beneath the confessional window. “Who goes first, kitten?”

  “Mmmm,” she moaned, clearly already touching herself. “You can guess this time.”

  He lay quietly, his eyes closed, stroking himself slowly as he listened for the telltale sounds from the room next door. There. A sharp gasp followed by a groan that was almost a purr. “You just pinched your nipple—hard.”

  Now she purred for real. “Just like you do whenever you get the chance. I love the fact that you don’t treat me like I’m breakable.”

  “You’re a lot of things, but never that.” He stroked himself faster, harder, thinking about her mouth on him.

  Whatever sound he made caused a laugh to echo through the room again. “You’re jerking off while thinking about blow jobs.”

  “How the hell?”

  “Because I told you I’d give you head on the drive if you won. I’d be upset if you were thinking about anything else.”

  He chuckled with her. “Fine, but I’m not going to think about it anymore.”

  “Also, I remember every sound you made the night I went down on you. I remember how powerful you made me feel, even while you forced yourself deeper into my throat. I was the one who made you lose control like that—it still makes me smile when I think about it.”

  It still made him smile, too. It also made him want to come. He slowed his stroking as he pondered the dichotomy. As much as he and Jade were all about sex—maybe it wasn’t just sex. Was that simply the vehicle for the deeper connection they seemed to share? He’d been looking so long for something else, but maybe the answer had been hidden in an avalanche of orgasms all along.

  From the other room, he heard her breath catch for a second, and then it began shuddering faster and faster. Dean licked his lips, his silence forcing her to continue, and he started stroking himself again.

  Like this moment—he knew Jade well enough to know precisely what she was doing. But he liked listening to her, liked hearing the hitches in her breathing as she tripped along the edge of orgasm. And he also knew if she kept it up, she’d tumble over that edge.

  “Dean?” Her voice was a desperate whisper, full of need.

  “A little longer, kitten. I’m having a hard time hearing you,” he lied, pumping faster, harder, thinking about filling her and watching her eyes as she came. Those bright green cat eyes that seemed to share everything while still holding a secret.

  It wasn’t the secret of what she was doing, though. He knew those sounds like he knew his own name—both names. She’d started the game, and he knew damn well she wouldn’t stop until he made a guess.

  He closed his eyes, imagining her fingertips fluttering against her lips and clit. He could almost see her other hand reaching down, one finger, two, three sliding into her. Whimpers of need began to join her fractured breathing, creating a symphony of sound and desire.

  He wanted to break down the wall to be with her, to take the place of those long, elegant fingers. But that wasn’t what they were here for, and he tamped down the need until he was the one groaning as his balls felt heavier and heavier.

  Finally he said, “You’re fingering yourself, one hand inside while the other works your clit—like I’d do with my fingers and tongue if I were there. And you’re so fucking turned on, the only thing that’s holding you back from coming is your stubbornness and the fact that I haven’t told you your turn is over. So, keep touching yourself, and when I call your name, then you get to come. Not before.”

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  Dean jerked himself off mercilessly while Jade did as he said. The bed next door creaked, and he could almost see her pressing her feet against the mattress as she arched her back, higher and higher.

  Now. “Now, Jade.”

  She screamed his name in return as she came, and his own orgasm followed, semen spurting into the air to land hot and sticky on his belly. Sagging against the mattress, all Dean could think about was how badly he wanted her here, because he knew, without question, she’d crawl up the bed to lick it off and suck him hard again.

  And in that brief refractory time, it would be as if they’d played their spy game again. Those moments were the ones where they shared all their secrets.

  Best. Couples. Retreat. Ever.

  …

  Wasn’t a massage supposed to be relaxing?

  After the intense masturbation game, Jade had agreed to give this retreat thing a chance. The fact that she’d felt such an intense emotional connection to Dean through the damn confessional window meant they had a chance to fix all the things that ailed them. They could go get their massages and talk to each other.

  Plus, Dean had promised if she was still miserable by dinner, they’d grab her car and head to the nearest winery. But she didn’t think that would be necessary. If the two of them could find each other separated by a wall, they could have some meaningful conversation—even if someone was sitting there to make sure they talked instead of fought.

  They never fought, though, not really—eventually they always reverted to joking with each other. The conversation might not be easy, but he wouldn’t make it as hard as she’d feared. He wanted to get to the bottom of their issues as much as she did and would do what he could to put her at ease. She’d left the room on trembling legs, knowing they could make this trip worthwhile. She was sure of it.

  Or she had been until they’d been collected for their couple’s massage. Separate rooms to undress didn’t surprise her, but the insistence they wear eye masks so as not to see each other when they lay down? That was going a little far. But at least the person working on her muscles seemed like a pro. Maybe easing the tension in her muscles would finally allow her to relax enough to really open up with Dean and release a couple of her inner demons. This could be good.

  And then, before she managed to get a word out, the therapy had started—and it was no simple encouragement to talk. It was a goddamn interrogation designed to drill into their psyches. Her heart started to race as part of her reverted to a teenage girl on a too-hard couch, staring at a man whose only goal had seemed to be making sure she stayed in his office for the full billable hour.

  “So, Dean, tell me something you lo
ve about Jade.” The voice was female and authoritative—in the right scenario it might have been sexy. This was not that scenario. She sounded like a female version of old Dr. Allan, and it was all Jade could do to stay calm and not bolt from the room.

  “She has a body to die for.”

  Jade let out a sigh of relief and smiled, her cheeks pressing against the opening of the massage table. This was how they worked—it was almost as if Dean had innately sensed what she needed. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, kitten.”

  “Yes,” the therapist said. “But that’s not what I want to know. Outside the physical and sexual, what do you love about her?”

  Outside the physical and sexual?

  Dean didn’t seem to have any trouble with the question, and Jade suddenly found it hard to suck in air. Even though she knew otherwise, it seemed like he’d gotten a copy of what they’d be asked in advance, as if he knew what would be coming and only Jade was in the dark. It grew cold suddenly, and Jade felt more naked, more exposed than she ever had in her life. “Her wit and the way she says what’s on her mind. She hasn’t been doing that as much lately, though.”

  This time, his voice didn’t have the same effect. It didn’t warm or relax her. Instead, her stomach sank as she pondered his words.

  I haven’t? Of course, as soon as she thought about it, she realized she’d been avoiding certain conversations with Dean—and not just about her past—because the whole situation between them had put her on edge. Nothing had felt safe, much less comfortable for a couple weeks.

  “That’s good, Dean. Anything else?”

  “That she’s fearless. Whenever someone throws something at her, she either steps calmly out of the way or catches it.”

  Like hell. Because right now she wanted to run. It wasn’t stepping out of the way; it was avoidance, plain and simple. Even though she recognized the fear, she didn’t want to confront it. She wanted to hide until it went away.

  “Good. And, Jade, what is it you love about Dean?” Shit. She’d been so busy listening to his answers, she hadn’t considered the question herself. “Jade?”

  Her heart started racing, fight or flight kicking in for real now. “Timed test. Got it.”

  “It’s not a test, but it is troubling that you don’t have an answer, especially since Dean just mentioned how he loved the way you speak your mind. Is he right that you’ve stopped doing that lately?”

  Fuck, she hated therapy. She’d gone through rounds of this shit after her parents split. It hadn’t helped. Her refusal to wallow had been admonished alongside her self-reliance. The family therapist insisted she was preventing her mom from healing. Her candor hadn’t been appreciated, either, especially when she informed him that if it hadn’t been for her, Mom likely would have been dead or at least homeless.

  Not long after that particular meeting, Jade caught sight of a list on Dr. Allan’s session notes: callousness, limited emotional response, impulsive behavior, unrealistic expectations, and inflated self-importance. Apparently, he thought she had issues as deep and troubling as her mother’s. The truth she knew in her heart didn’t matter, not when she’d been made to feel like she was the problem, like she needed to change.

  She blew out a slow breath, desperate to calm down. No matter how well she knew he’d just been a horrible therapist, he’d colored her opinion for life. The last thing she wanted was some stranger poking around in her brain now, when she was totally at peace with who she was. But she’d made a promise to herself, and to Dean, to try. Besides, this shiny, new, anti-sex therapist was still waiting on an answer. Jade gave another slow exhale before saying, “No. I was just trying to relax into my massage.”

  “Your massage therapist indicates otherwise. She said you tensed up as soon as I asked the question. Would you like to explain that reaction?”

  And what little stress she’d managed to blow out came right back on the heels of what sounded all too much like an accusation. “Sure. I hate twenty questions. Never been a fan.”

  She also didn’t like that they were using the massage as a means to monitor her. The best way out of this mess was to give them something to analyze other than her pauses and physical reactions. Calm. This isn’t about the damn therapist, it’s about you and Dean. That thought gave her the strength to say, “I love how adaptable Dean is. When we had sex the first time—”

  “I believe I said nothing sexual.”

  And now the chill in the room turned to fire as she clenched the sheet in her fists. Damn it, they either wanted her to talk or they didn’t, but she couldn’t do this and worry about their stupid fucking rules at the same time. “I believe you can kiss my ass. I’m sure my body monitor will happily move the sheet to give you access.”

  She paused, waiting for the bitch to admonish her again. Surprisingly, it didn’t happen. There was, however, plenty of scratching on a notepad. Probably more “tendencies” of some sort.

  Whatever. “When Dean and I had sex the first time, I kind of threw a scenario at him both because I’m playful and to see how he’d react. He didn’t hesitate—he was immediately on the same page as I was.”

  “That’s lovely. Now, something without sex, something a little more personal.”

  Heat rushed to her face and she twisted the sheet in her grip. Sex was plenty personal as far as Jade was concerned. The therapist’s meaning was clear enough—this wasn’t about getting her and Dean to understand each other—the woman didn’t care about that. She just wanted to get in Jade’s head and root around in there with a fucking stick. Then everyone here at Camp Sex-Be-Gone could make sure Jade knew how messed up she was and how she had mommy issues and daddy issues and so many issues she should have been a goddamn collectible magazine.

  No. No, no, no.

  Yes, she and Dean needed to talk and figure things out, but not like this. Not with some drill-sergeant therapist calling the shots. She wasn’t going to put herself through that. She didn’t care what she’d agreed to earlier.

  Heart racing so fast she was afraid it might burst, Jade rolled from the massage table and onto her feet, then whipped off her eye mask, flinging it at the therapist. “How about this? That same trait I saw the first time we had sex is the one that he’s brought to his career, to meeting my friends, to dealing with the rules I established for our relationship. It’s not all about sex, but I’ll tell you this much, sex matters, and ignoring it won’t do our relationship a damn bit of good.”

  “Miss Easler, you need to lie down.” The drill sergeant with the too-tight bun and the too-prim clothes pointed a finger at her. “I’m starting to think you have problems with authority. Was that perhaps because of your mother or your father?”

  And that was why involuntary therapy sucked. If she wanted to discuss her childhood, she’d find a hot bartender. No, she wouldn’t, because she was with Dean now, and he trusted her enough to let her keep her secrets—or share them with him as she saw fit. At least she’d thought that’s what they had.

  She glared at the therapist. The woman was a stranger, but she represented every facet of Jade’s teenage years that had made her angry, made her bitter. She’d spent a decade working through the damage Dr. Allan had done back then to become the person she was now. She wasn’t about to apologize for protecting herself.

  Apology or not, Jade was past the point of calm, past reasoning. She needed out—right now—before she became that angry teenage girl again.

  “It’s because of people like you. And the only thing I need to do is leave. If Dean’s serious about wanting to work on our relationship, he’ll be leaving with me.” Jade didn’t bother with the towel or getting dressed. She grabbed her things from the changing room and marched out of the building, stalking buck naked down the path back to her cell.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was dark by the time Dean’s cab pulled into the W. How the fuck had this gone so wrong? After the quick elevator ride to the top, he trudged down the hall and opened the door t
o the condo.

  Jade’s keys were there, but she wasn’t waiting at the bar or in the living room. He tossed his keys on the console table and went into the bedroom—to discover the door to the master bath shut. Shower? No. The water wasn’t running.

  He knocked on the door lightly. “Kitten.”

  “Don’t you kitten me.”

  Shit. She was pissed. He cracked the door, only to find the bathroom empty. The door at the other end was open, though, and Jade stood in the closet beyond it, open suitcases by her feet, as she stared at her clothes but didn’t make a move to pack anything. “What are you doing?”

  “You didn’t leave with me. I waited by the car for fifteen minutes before I took off.”

  “I was dealing with checking us out and trying to keep them from pressing charges against you for public indecency. As soon as things were under control, I grabbed my stuff and bolted, but it took a while, especially because my damn door locked me in. I had to call for a rescue, and they took their sweet time.” He wanted to touch her, but the stiffness of her posture told him she was looking for a fight, and that was the last thing he wanted right now.

  And if he didn’t want to fight, he needed to calm the hell down before he could reasonably expect her to. “Okay, I get it. The retreat wasn’t ideal, but we could have gotten something out of it. You said you’d try, and we didn’t even make it through the first session.”

  They could still fix this. They’d started to make strides with each other prior to the ill-fated massage session. As long as both of them wanted it to work, they could get past this stupid roadblock.

  Jade spun on him, fury in her eyes. “Because I don’t do therapy. I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want someone inside my head, and that’s all the weekend was going to be. People poking and prodding at me to figure out what makes me tick and how I’m the one who’s fucking up everything in my life. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Damn it, he’d really screwed up, but she was being more than a little beyond reasonable here. And honestly, the therapist had been right about one thing—and it stung. Jade couldn’t separate Dean from sex—he wasn’t anything more than that to her.