Masked Indulgence: A Billionaire Holiday Romance (Nightclub Sins Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  “Promising.” She looked up at him from under her lashes and suddenly Buddy could see what the studio cameras had seen deep in her eyes. Sorrow, fear, sadness … horror. It took his breath away.

  “Lily …”

  She pressed her lips to his, and he tasted her for the first time. Lavender, rose, violets, cherries, a thousand flavors and scents went through his head as they kissed. His hands slid around her slim waist, the feel of skin as soft as the skin of a peach. Her small fingers worked the buttons of his pants, reaching in to grasp his cock. Buddy smiled. This is no wallflower, he thought. Even though his prowess at making love was almost legendary, he had never felt as powerless as with this woman’s intoxicating presence—powerless and yet totally smitten.

  Merry Christmas to me, he thought, as they kissed their way to the bed and tumbled onto it together. Lily was impatient, tearing at his shirt—one of his really good Saville Row imports, he considered vaguely, so he helped her by pulling it over his head tossing it on the floor. His pants were next, then they were in each other’s arms, skin on skin, limbs tangling. She took him in her mouth, and he groaned at the sensation of her tongue flicking around his engorged cock. She brought him to near completion before he pulled away and pushed her onto his back.

  “A missionary man, huh?” She smiled up at him. “Didn’t figure you for that.”

  “Oh, I’m just getting starting, sweetheart. Before the end of the night, I’ll have fucked you in every position possible.”

  Her hands came up and gripped his face, her dark gaze fierce upon his. “Don’t promise things you can’t deliver,” she said, “not you, not tonight. Only truth here.”

  Her words were delivered in a low, sensual purr, but Buddy understood the weight of them. He nodded, keeping her gaze. “You got it.” He kissed her passionately, relishing the taste of her. “Sweetheart, tell me what you like, and that’s what you’ll get tonight—I promise.”

  He saw something shift in her sad eyes, her body relax. “In that case, buster, you better fuck me hard and long …”

  He laughed and hitched her legs around his waist. “You got it, baby.” With a grin, he launched himself into her, gratified by her cry of pleasure. Her cunt was silky and wet, and Buddy found his rhythm easily. Guessing she wouldn’t want bullshit talk, he instead kept his gaze locked on hers as they moved together. Her full breasts, so creamy and pillowy soft, plumped against his chest, her belly undulated with the motion of their fucking. Her lips found his hungrily, her tongue rough against his.

  Neither held back, biting and clawing at the other, rolling around, trying to gain the upper hand. Buddy was surprised at her strength as she fought against him, always playful, always laughing. They tumbled to the floor, and he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her legs apart and thrusting into her perfectly rounded ass, making her shriek with delight.

  “Grab my hair, Buddy boy, make me scream …”

  He bunched her gorgeous dark hair in his fist and pulled her head back so he could kiss her mouth. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”

  He made her come over and over, and she was certainly no quiet mouse, crying out loudly. Damn, this girl was good for his ego, but it was more than that, it was two people connecting in the most primal, animal way.

  He might not have fucked her in every way that night, but he certainly gave her his greatest hits. He bound her hands behind her and went down on her until she was weeping with ecstasy, then released her and screwed her against the wall, in the bathtub. He uncorked a bottle of champagne and drenched her with it, licking off every last drop until she was quivering and begging him to use his cock on her again.

  Finally, exhausted, they collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard. They both stared up at the ceiling as they recovered, then Lily looked over at him, her lovely face lit up, and indeed, there was merriment, life, back in her eyes.

  “Kiddo,” she said, somewhat incongruously as she must have been younger than Buddy’s thirty-two by about ten years, “You keep your word, all right. Must be the first man in my life that’s done that.”

  She sat up and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Buddy watched her glide across the room and pick up a silver cigarette case. She pulled a cigarette out. “Want one?”

  “Please.”

  She opened the windows to the balcony. “Come sit out here.”

  Buddy got up and tugged his pants on. “It’s freezing.”

  She laughed softly. “Ain’t that bad.”

  They leaned on the balcony and looked out over L.A. Lily blew a torrent of smoke rings out into the cold night air. “It’s after midnight, Buddy. Merry Christmas.”

  Buddy pressed his lips against her bare shoulder. She was still naked, but Buddy didn’t think she cared if anyone saw her. And why should she? Her body was a wonderland.

  “Happy holidays, Lily. Tell me, you got any family out here?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t got any family anywhere, Bud.”

  He was surprised. “I thought Carter said …”

  “Carter doesn’t know shit. I’m not an orphan, mores the pity. Ma ran out just after I was born, probably because my dad was screwing around. He dumped me on his sister most of the time who couldn’t have given a crap. When she died, I moved back in with him, and he continued to be an asshole. Stop me if you’ve heard this one.”

  “You wanna talk about it? I’m a great listener.”

  She smiled at him. “You good at everything, Buddy?”

  He shrugged. “I try.”

  “You got kids?”

  “Two. Girls, Mimi and Lux.”

  “Cute names. You a good dad?”

  “I think so. I hope so.”

  “But you’re here with me on Christmas Day.”

  “Never said I was perfect. One day, I’ll explain it to them. When they’re older. Besides, I’ll be there for when they open their presents, take ’em to church.”

  It was Lily’s turn to look surprised. “You a God fearin’ man, Buddy?”

  He smiled, a little sheepish. “Hey, look … it makes my wife happy. And I don’t see the harm in saying my thanks to the creator, you know?”

  She smiled, and the distance was starting to come back into her eyes. “Actually, I don’t. I’m not religious, Bud.” She threw the end of her cigarette out into the night. Buddy caught the tip glowing as it tumbled down to the pool beneath them. Lily went back in and slipped into her robe. “You mean what you say about talking about it?”

  Buddy came to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I meant it.”

  She kissed him. “Let’s get some food then, and talk.”

  Over steak sandwiches and champagne, Lily told Buddy about herself. “My daddy was a mean drunk. Well, I wish that were true, that he drank, and so I could blame alcohol. But he never touched a drop. Said he was a good Christian, though he never set foot inside a church or did one goddamned thing for anyone else. What he did was more insidious—always putting me down—or any woman for that matter.”

  She took a long drag on her newly lit joint.

  “His momma didn’t love him, never loved him, but that was okay because now he was a good man, a great father, a fine member of the community.”

  “If only his momma had loved him. Maybe then he would not have kept his wife subservient, or his daughter bowed and with no self-esteem. Because his momma—and therefore all women – were evil monsters. Evil. Treacherous. Why couldn’t he shout and scream and flay the skin from their bones? It was his right. He was aggressive twenty-four seven, and if you called him on it? Still the scars.”

  She laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. “That son-of-a-bitch. When I told him I wanted to be an actress, he laughed. Told me I was too full of myself for a woman. Would never say sorry, or thank you, or congratulations. It was beneath him. I wasn’t worthy, and my feelings did not matter. God, I sound so whiny, but when you put up with that every day for all your life, it wears you down, makes you brittle, makes y
ou angry and resentful.”

  “We’re not all like your dad,” Buddy said softly, pressing his lips against her temple. She leaned into him briefly.

  “I wish I could believe that, Bud, I really do. But I come here, to Hollywood of all places, and I see my dad in every agent, every producer or director or cocksucking actor. Even Carter, although he has been kinder than most.” She laughed again. “When he told me he was going to send me a guy to loosen me up, I knew what he meant, and I thought, fuck you, Carter; I’m going to have my fun and still be a dead-eyed stick in front of the cameras just to spite you.”

  She looked up at Buddy. “I feel differently now. You’ve given me something this evening that I’ve never experienced before. Complete lack of inhibition. I was myself more tonight than I have ever been. It’s a damn shame you’re married, Buddy-boy.”

  Buddy smiled and kissed her. “Baby … my wife knows the business I do. We’re honest, open, and she doesn’t mind as long as I don’t give her anything nasty or make anyone else pregnant. The money’s good. You wanna keep seeing me, keep talking and fucking, I’m all yours.”

  She touched his face tenderly. “Thank you, Buddy, but I’m not sure I’ll be around much after tonight. If at all. What time do you have to leave?”

  “The kids will wake early, so before four a.m. You going to be okay, honey?”

  Lily Harlow smiled her enigmatic smile and nodded. “From now on, Buddy, it’ll all be different.”

  Luckily Mimi and Lux were still asleep when he got home, and Mary barely stirred as he got into bed and snuggled up to her comforting form.

  “Cold,” was all she mumbled then, with a gentle snore, was asleep again. Buddy was too keyed up. He couldn’t get his final moment with Lily out of his head. They’d made love again, this time gently, tenderly, and when she’d walked him to the door, she’d given him an envelope. He could tell it was stuffed with cash and he’d tried to tell her that Carter had already paid him, but she wouldn’t take the envelope back.

  “Just … don’t open it until almost midnight tonight. The last moment of Christmas day. Promise me that.”

  He had promised, and the envelope was tucked in his jacket pocket, hanging in the downstairs closet. Lily had kissed him again and smiled. He had touched her cheek.

  “I’m sorry you had to grow up with that asshole,” he said, “you deserved better.”

  She had smiled, her dark, beautiful eyes unreadable as she nodded and said. “I know. I expect they’ve found his body by now.”

  Lily stood on the roof of the Marmont and looked out over Los Angeles. City of Angels, City of Dreams. City of Death. She smiled a little. How strange she should have had her happiest time on this particular night. Buddy Scott. For a hooker, escort, gigolo, whatever he wanted to call himself, he had more soul than anyone she’d ever met. Lily had known that her beauty was her ticket, but now she had so tired of it being the only thing about her people talked about.

  Dead-eyed Lily Harlow. You gotta seem happier, sweetheart. “Seem” not “be” happier. Assholes. I got some happy for you tonight, motherfuckers. I’ll give you some happy all over the concrete.

  She spread her arms wide then dropped them. Why did people always do that when they jumped? Why not just fall in a relaxed position? The outcome would be the same. She supposed it was because, at the final moment of their lives, people wanted to experience that which humans could not normally do: they flew.

  Lily gave a scoffing noise. “It’s not flying, you morons, it’s dying. Plain and simple. Jump and snuff.” She glanced down at the concrete below. “Tell my story, Buddy, please.”

  She did not hesitate. Three seconds in the cold rushing air and then there was nothing more.

  Mimi and Lux were climbing all over their father, tickling him, when the phone rang. Mary handed him the receiver with an annoyed look on her face. “One family day a year is all I ask, Buddy.”

  He shot her an apologetic look. It was Carter. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Lily Harlow is dead.”

  Buddy felt as if his internal organs were being ripped out; at the same time, he realized there had been a sort of inevitability about her death. “God, how?” Please, not murder, I couldn’t bear it.

  “She jumped off the roof of the Marmont. Back of her head split open, blood and brains everywhere. The weird thing is, they said she was smiling. She was alive when you left her, wasn’t she?”

  “Of course, she was,” Buddy snapped, and his family fell silent around him. He tried to smile at them reassuringly.

  Carter sighed. “That’s not all. Chicago P.D. sent some cops around to her father’s place to tell him. They found him dead, long dead by the sounds of it, his skull bashed in. Written on the wall in his blood was one word. Monster. They think Lily killed him before she came out here.”

  Buddy closed his eyes and knew that was the truth. I expect they’ve found his body by now. No, baby girl, they haven’t, but you’re safe now anyway. God, Lily … I wish I could have saved you. He felt as if he couldn’t speak, his throat was full of cotton wool and bile.

  “Bud, you there?”

  “I am. What’s going to happen now?”

  Carter cleared his throat. “Well, they will have to question whoever saw her last night, so …”

  “That’s no problem; just tell me what precinct to go to. I have friends in the force, they know what I do.”

  “Good. Look, the press will get hold of this, there’s no question. It’s the juiciest scandal to hit Hollywood since Arbuckle or Flynn so we have to get out in front of it. Beauty savagely murders father then kills herself on Christmas Day? That’s a story I can sell.”

  Buddy felt depressed when he got off the phone from Carter, and despite his girls trying to cheer him up, he soon grabbed his bottle of whiskey and retreated to his den, ignoring the annoyance in his wife’s face.

  He remembered the letter Lily had given him and went to retrieve it. As expected, he found the manila envelope stuffed full of cash—about $6000 in all and a note. The paper smelled of violets and jasmine, and he held it to his nose and inhaled deeply before reading it.

  My dear Buddy,

  It seems longer than just a few hours that we have known each other; indeed, I think you are the only person ever to know any part of me that wasn’t on the outside. Tonight has been wonderful, truly, the finest of my short life, and I cannot thank you enough.

  It probably won’t surprise you when they tell you I’m dead. Please, would you be so kind as to pay for my funeral expenses out of this money and keep the rest for yourself? It is all I have in the world. I only ask one more favor …

  Tell my story, Buddy. Don’t let them brand me a murderer without telling them my truth. I told you most of it except for the fact that my father raped me from a young age. A very young age. He was a pedophile and a bastard, and I’m happy I killed him. The world is a better place without either of us.

  Thank you, and I’m sorry for any pain this will cause you.

  Tell my story, please.

  Yours,

  Lily Mae Harlow.

  Buddy felt his heart crack wide open. Raped. Jesus Christ. If Mr. Harlow weren't already dead, Buddy would have driven through the night to get to him and rip his throat out. Motherfucker. He heard the girls’ voices through the wall and shook his head. I do not understand what drives a man to do that. I never will.

  It was after midnight when Mary came to find him. She looked exhausted, and Buddy felt guilty about leaving her to deal with everything. She was wrapped in a new robe he’d bought on Rodeo Drive and, belatedly, he realized it was almost identical to the one that Lily had worn the previous evening. Mary was dark-haired too, and if she wasn’t a great beauty, she had a soft, kind face that drew people to her. Buddy adored her, almost worshiped her; despite his “other” job they still enjoyed a healthy sex life even after ten years together.

  She sat down in the other easy chair in the room. “Something happened.”
/>   Buddy nodded. “A friend, a client died. Killed herself.”

  “That’s terrible.” Mary’s eyes were sympathetic. She knew every detail of Buddy’s work but was fine with it. She was a sensible, practical woman and knew they wouldn’t have all they did if Buddy was just a gas monkey. Buddy handed her Lily’s letter, and she read it. “Oh Buddy, this is awful.”

  “I know. And they’re going to paint her as some kind of femme fatale in the press.”

  Mary shook her head. “It’s not right, but it’s the way the world works.”

  Buddy looked at her. “It needn’t be. I could speak out.”

  Mary looked wary. “Buddy … you know you have to follow the company line on this, right? Whatever story the studio wants to put out is the one we go with. Our income depends on you being one of the gang, one of the trusted ones. Blow that, and we’ll have to give all of this up.”

  Buddy sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted suddenly, exhausted and sad. “I can’t think of anything else but going to bed right now. In the morning, I’ll make the arrangements for Lily’s funeral.”

  Mary followed him up to their bedroom and got into bed. Buddy put his arms around her, and Mary studied his face. “Was she nice?” she whispered and Buddy nodded.

  “She was. You would have liked her, had the circumstances been different.”

  As Mary predicted, Carter was not at all keen on Buddy going to the press with Lily’s story when he turned up at his office the day after Boxing Day. “Are you kidding me? No way. At this point the press is clamoring for the evil temptress; they don’t want some sob story.”

  Buddy was annoyed. “I hardly think incest and rape are a sob story, Carter.”

  Carter sighed. “Look, I feel for the kid, but we bring incest into it—whether it was her fault or not—then it turns into a sleazefest; the public will turn against us, and we won’t be able to sell this as a story.”