by Julia Harlow
“Seriously, Grant, I’d like to talk over something with you. You’re the best judge of when your modeling career should wind down, but let’s talk about some ideas for the next phase of your career.”
Grant suddenly pulled back from where he’d been leaning toward her and glowered. “What makes you think you’re qualified to talk about my career?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you stick that chip on your shoulder where the sun don’t shine and listen to someone who really cares about you?”
Shaking his head, he inched toward her.
“You know more about men’s fashion, for one thing, than anyone else on earth. You already have connections with the zillion magazines you’ve modeled for, so why don’t you approach a few of the top ones about writing a column about men’s fashion? And don’t even think about telling me you can’t write, because I already know you can. You’re really good, in fact. I know you read a lot, mostly non-fiction from what I’ve seen scattered around in your hotel rooms. You’ve got a start on a style you could develop.
“Do not roll your eyes at me, mister. You seem to be quite enthralled with cars. Why don’t you investigate your options there? You might check into getting your racing license, and then possibly write a column about cars: your views on the newest, the vintage, and the most coveted. Car enthusiasts would be very interested in your views.”
He had to hand it to her. Those were two of the most promising possibilities he’d been tinkering around with. He’d even gone so far as to float the ideas by his agent. And he’d recently looked into what it took to get a racing license. Definitely do-able. But his amazingly wonderful Dorrie wasn’t finished.
“You represent a couple of brands now, but I wondered why you don’t branch out to whisky, for example. You have more of the James Bond thing going than Sean Connery, almost. And he was the face of . . . something. I can’t remember now. Your agent is a bit of a laggard for not thinking of this angle himself.”
She held up a finger to stop him from interrupting. “Then, while you’re still the hottest thing since, well, scratch that. There’s nothing hotter than Grant Maxwell. You should consider your own label for designing menswear, men’s cologne, footwear, and beyond. Why are you moping around about the end of your modeling career when all of these opportunities are right in front of you like peaches ripe for the picking?”
At that moment, two waiters served their entrees, effectively silencing Dorrie’s marathon career-planning session. She sat spellbound, eyeing the exquisite presentation and then inhaling the delectable aromas of the scaloppini and warm gorgonzola.
Watching her, Grant couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Ever. This woman had it all: intellect, a keen sense of humor, warmth, insight into his soul, an infallible sense of morals and ethics, and beauty—both inside and out. And a sexual appeal he could not define. He exhaled and relaxed, enjoying his meal as well as watching Dorrie savor hers.
“Did you save room for dessert?” the waiter asked after their dishes had been cleared.
Grant cast a glance at Dorrie. He wanted to get back to The Breakers as fast as humanly possible. But he was, after all, a gentleman.
“Dorrie?”
“It was the most amazing meal I’ve ever eaten.” She smiled up at the waiter while Grant held his breath. “But I can’t eat another bite.”
“Check, please,” Grant quickly followed up. As they gazed longingly at one another, something secret passed between them.
~*~
“Are you sure the coast is clear?” Dorrie whispered when they stepped into the elevator.
“I checked my messages before we left, but no sign of the bloody bastard.” Dorrie knew that Grant never brought his phone on dates because he thought it the height of inconsiderate behavior to take calls when he was out with a woman. So he couldn’t have checked after they left.
As they rode up in the elevator, she twisted a tendril of her hair. “Maybe you should check your phone first.”
When the doors opened, he took her hand and practically dragged her down the hall. “Where’s your key?”
She rummaged in her evening clutch and produced it just as they reached her room.
“Why my room?” she asked, breathless.
“It’s closer.”
He closed the door with his palm and snapped the bolt. In a matter of seconds, he had Dorrie pinned against the door, her dress was on the floor, her hands were over her head held by one of his, and his mouth was crushing hers. He was fully aroused, his hard cock pressing against all her softness.
He shrugged out of his jacket and panted, “We’ve waited too long. I’m not even going to last a minute.” The rasp of his zipper mingled with the sounds of their heavy breathing. With one firm snap, he tore off her panties. “I promise to make it up to you later.” Grabbing the back of her thigh, he pulled it up, ran his fingers in her wet folds, and thrust a finger into her. He gasped. “Thank fuck you’re so wet for me.” When he lifted her other thigh, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He fumbled in his pocket for a condom and had her tear it open with her teeth before rolling it on.
Evidence of his restraint showed in the rigid set of his jaw and forehead glistening with sweat. He could have pushed all the way into her, but he didn’t. He was careful not to hurt her. But when she kissed him and slid her tongue in his mouth, he lost the tenuous hold he had on his control.
“Oh, holy hell, you feel so good, so tight and wet for my cock. You’re making me come.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she moaned. “Oh, Grant, fuck me hard.”
Neither of them was aware of the noise they were making banging against the wood-paneled door. Grant exploded inside her at the same moment she let go, and they soared into sensual oblivion, losing all sense of awareness except for his big cock inside her and their hot, sweaty bodies pressed against one another. He nuzzled her neck and groaned. “Sorry. I wanted to make it longer than that. Give me ten minutes and I promise I’ll do better.”
Dorrie giggled. “You sent me to the moon. What more can a girl ask for?”
He gently lowered her legs and held her until he was sure she was steady. “Let’s take a bath.”
~~~
After they’d taken a leisurely bath, making slow, sweet love again in the tub, and dried one another off, making slower, sweeter love on the marble bathroom counter, Dorrie convinced Grant to head back to his room because he needed to be up early for a photo shoot. He was too tired to argue, even though he didn’t understand why he couldn’t spend the night sleeping with her in his arms.
She helped him dress, after slipping into the new sea green silk robe he’d given her, and steered him to the door. After opening it, she pulled his face down to her and gave him a bone-melting kiss until she realized he was getting hard. Again. “Goodnight, Grant.”
The door had been closed less than a minute when Dorrie heard a soft knock. She beamed. Grant needed another goodnight kiss, and she was only too happy to give it to him. She quickly unlocked the door and swung it open for him. It wasn’t Grant.
Chapter 11
Luke Parker stood on the other side of the door, his arm stretched high on the doorframe. Dorrie tightened the sash on her robe before speaking.
“What’s going on, Luke? Why are you here at one in the morning?”
“I wanted a word with you, sweetheart.” His casual drawl didn’t fool Dorrie. Those green eyes had a degree of intensity behind them she hadn’t seen before. He was up to something, and her skin began to prickle with apprehension.
“It’s late, Luke. Let’s talk in the morning.” She closed the door, but he slapped his palm against it and pushed his way in.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice sounded too panicky, even to her. She reached for the phone. “I’m calling security.”
“Not so fast. I have a little something to show you, so why don’t you just calm down. I won’t be here long.” He slouched down in the uphols
tered armchair next to the bed and then leaned on one hip to extract the phone out of the pocket of his designer jeans.
Dorrie felt the rage welling up inside her and clenched her fists at her sides. Who did this punk think he was, barging into her room? Just wait until Grant found out. Luke’s girly face wouldn’t be on any more magazine covers.
“Out, now.” She thrust a finger toward the door. “You don’t have any business being in my hotel room.”
Just then she heard something coming from his phone. At first it just sounded like wood banging. Then she recognized her own voice panting, “Oh, Grant, fuck me hard.”
Her legs felt so wobbly she sank down on the side of the bed. The sound continued, and she heard Grant’s voice saying he was sorry he couldn’t last longer but that he’d make it up to her. Even though her heart was pounding in her chest, she struggled to sound calm. “Do you get off eavesdropping on people, Luke? Is that how you get your kicks?”
The sneer on his face, as he rose from the chair and sauntered over to her, left no doubt in her mind that something was very wrong. The edge of the bed dipped as he sat down close to her, nudging her with his thigh.
“You don’t seem to have a grasp of the situation, baby doll. What I have here is undeniable proof that you’re still fucking your client. The higher-ups at Omni will be very interested in what I have here.” He tapped his cell phone with one long finger.
Twisting the sash on her robe, she asked, “What exactly do you have, Luke? Nothing but a sick voyeur’s recording. It proves nothing.”
“On the contrary, if you’d care to look at this, you’ll see photos of you and Maxwell entering your room, and of the two of you sucking face in the doorway before he left, which was hours later, by the way. I was getting sick of waiting, but the old man finally dragged his arrogant ass off to his suite.”
“Omni’s not going to care about that. You could have staged it or photoshopped those pictures.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she tried to stand to get away from him, but her legs were too shaky.
He shook his head. “For a smart girl, you’re pretty damn stupid. See the time stamps here?” He indicated the phone screen with a jab of his finger. “This is the kiss of death for you, sweetheart. It verifies when the two of you entered your room, when the door-banging fucking took place, and when he left. Add in the rather lurid audio, and your plump little ass is grass, as they say.”
When her exquisite dinner started coming up in her throat, she clamped her hand over her mouth, but somehow managed not to throw up.
She met his cruel green eyes. “What do you want, Luke?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere, darlin’. I want to fuck you.”
“Not in a million years, you sick bastard!” Her hand itched to smack his smug face.
“Okay. If that’s what you want. I’ve got both Everhard’s and DuPres’ email addresses here, and I’ll send this interesting little attachment on its way. Say adios to your very promising career.”
His finger hovered over the send button, and Dorrie cried out, “Wait!” This whole nightmare had unfolded so fast there’d been no time to process what was happening. Would Parker really blackmail her into sleeping with him? Should she just tell him to go fuck himself and deal with the consequences?
Her elbows sank to her knees as she buried her head in her hands. Was her career worth giving herself to this asshole? In her gut, she knew she should just tell him to get out. But she’d fought so hard to get this far and was on the cusp of carving out a career for herself. Her stomach roiled as she thought about the physical act she was contemplating.
“You’re out of time, Dorrie. The choice is simple: either slip out of that fetching robe for me or I’m pressing ‘send.’”
Almost choking on her response, Dorrie forced the words out through gritted teeth. “If I do this, you can’t hurt me or mark me. And I won’t suck your cock.”
“You seem to be forgetting who has the upper hand here.” He grasped her by the elbows and lifted her up from the bed, a smile curling one side of his full mouth. His slender fingers slipped inside the opening of her robe and trailed over the swell of her breasts. When she automatically shrank away from him, he snapped in a harsh tone she hadn’t heard before, “What’s it going to be, Dorrie? I don’t have all fucking night.”
She found her voice, fighting through the bile in her throat. “I need to know what you’re going to do to me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you a good time, baby.” His cloying smile was a cagey put-on, and Dorrie easily saw through it. “You’ll strip for me and let me touch your body. Then, you’ll undress me, and I’ll bend you over the bed—”
She cut him off, screeching, “I do not do anal sex!”
“For Christ’s sake, relax, will you? No one said anything about anal sex. I just want to fuck you from behind, that’s all. Jesus, woman!”
“Okay, okay. But just so we’re clear. This is a one-time thing. You’re not going to try to use the recording against me again, are you?”
“Hell no, angel. I’ll even let you watch me erase it after we’re done. Now, slip that little robe off for me. I’m as hard as a baseball bat.”
After the enchanting evening at Nicola’s and making love with Grant, and now this nightmare thrust upon her, weariness had taken its toll. Dorrie just wanted it over with. Grant would understand, wouldn’t he? She stood in front of Luke at the foot of the bed, wavering a moment, and then let the robe slip from her shoulders.
“Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.” He inched toward her naked body until only a whisper of space remained between their bodies. His hands slid over her hips and waist and slithered up to cup her breasts. She tried not to cringe. “My, my, this is some luscious body you got here. More pounds than I’m used to, but hey, feels good to me.” His thumbs rubbed back and forth over her nipples until they hardened.
After he’d explored her bottom thoroughly, squeezing and rubbing, he stood back. “Now undress me.”
Dorrie tried to get herself in a zone, focusing solely on getting this over with. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought it and lifted his white T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside then undid his jeans and pulled them down along with his gray briefs.
“Now touch me the way I touched you.” In hopes of hurrying this up, she rubbed her palms over his chest, unable to avoid noticing he had no chest hair, unlike Grant, who had to constantly groom himself for those bare-chested photo shoots. Under her fingers, Luke’s velvety skin felt like a newborn baby’s bottom.
“Touch my dick.” Dorrie couldn’t put off the inevitable, so she grasped it. “Now tell me how big I am.” He wasn’t anywhere near as big as Grant, like a Popsicle stick next to a tree branch, but she was pretty certain Luke wouldn’t want to hear that.
“Oh, you’re so big, Luke.” Try as she might, it sounded lame and unconvincing. She halfheartedly rubbed him a few more times, hoping to hell it was enough. Just get through this, Dorrie, and you can go on with your career and your relationship with Grant as if this never happened.
“Turn around now and lie on your front. Pull your knees up and stick that sweet ass of yours up in the air for me.” She did as he asked and waited. At first he just seemed to be staring at her, splayed as she was. Then she heard him rustling around and assumed he was putting on a condom.
When he still made no move, her frayed nerves felt as if they were twisting into unbearably tight spirals. “What the hell, Luke. Are we doing this or not?”
“My, you’re an impatient little thing. Don’t worry. Luke’s going to fuck you real good.” Just then she felt his hands smooth over the skin of her bottom. His fingers slid in between her folds to rub her clit. Dorrie was determined not to orgasm. That was for Grant and only Grant.
Luke spread her wider, and then she felt his dick pushing into her. He moaned. “God, you feel good, Dorrie. So tight for my big dick.”
Whatever, she thought. Just get it over
with. As his dick slid in and out of her, she clenched, and her only thought was this is wrong! She should have let him send his dirty little recording to Omni. Just then his hands gripped her hips and he drove into her, his balls slapping against her where their bodies met.
“Tell me how good it feels, Dorrie.”
Oh, fuck, really? “Oh, Luke, you feel so good.” Her voice held all the enthusiasm of a dental patient undergoing a root canal. Suddenly, he stopped.
“You know if you want to forget about this, we can go to the other option.”
With her bare ass high in the air, Dorrie felt conflicted. Yes, she wanted it to stop, but she’d already gone this far. So she complied. “You feel really good. And so big.” She added this last bit, hoping for the love of God that he’d just shoot his jizz and be done with it.
Luke started up again but seemed distracted with something.
“Everything okay?”
He found his rhythm again, dug his fingers into her hips and finally came, collapsing on top of her.
“We done?” Dorrie asked, wanting his sweaty boy’s body with his too-sweet smelling aftershave off of her.
He pulled out and pitched the condom in the waste can. “Almost. I like to cuddle after a fuck this good. Scoot up on the bed.”
Cuddle? He’s got to be kidding! But she moved up to the pillows along with him and tucked her head into his chest when his hand pulled her to him.
“That was so hot, Dorrie. You really know how to satisfy a man.”
Something in his tone sounded as hollow as a reed to her, but she just wanted to get him out of her room and her life. So she responded, “Well, you really know how to satisfy a woman, Luke.” With that, he kissed the top of her head and practically jumped up.
She couldn’t stand to watch as he pulled on his T-shirt and jeans and slid on leather thongs. When he turned his back to her and monkeyed with his phone, it reminded her of his promise.
“Don’t forget you said you’d erase the recording. Let me see you do it.” She scooped up her robe and slipped it on.
“Sure, honey. Here.” He strode to her and showed her the phone as he pressed delete on the recording entitled “Dorrie and Grant.”
