by Misti Murphy
“Uma Cookie?” Because he’ll never know who I truly am.
“Yeah.” He smiles indulgently. “You’re really here.”
“I am.” There’s no room between us now. He’s eaten it up with his imposing height and warm hands and beautiful mouth.
“Thank you for saving my ass, princess. Thank you for getting me to the hospital.”
I could watch his lips move all day long. The way they form syllables and the way they turn up in the corners. The top one is slightly fuller, but the bottom one is more lined. They rise a little more on the right when he smiles. It gives him a certain rascally, boyish charm. I want to touch them. Run my fingertips over the bottom one where it sticks out a bit. Taste them. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you for being real too.” He chuckles. “I was starting to suspect I was losing my mind, so I appreciate your showing up.”
“And I appreciate you.”
His pectoral muscles rise and fall with each deep breath he takes. His skin is inked and bronzed with perfect ridges and valleys. My finger finds the groove down the center of his torso and connects the ridges. Thank you for being so damn perfect, Rogue Maddox.
“D-did Adira tell you I was looking for you?” he asks.
“Hmm?” His belly button dips in ever so slightly. Strong lines carve in from his hips and disappear into the waistband of his pants.
“Adira?” His breathing has grown shallow.
“Um. Uh. No.” The outline of his man bulge makes my mouth water. The button on the fly beckons me like a beacon. Is he always so… big? Or is he excited to see me? I bite my lip. The pit of my belly is filled with butterflies and clenched heat. I have a need so big I don’t know how I can possibly contain it.
“Hang on, Uma.” There’s a rough curiosity in the way he says my name. Like he’s turned on but confused as hell. “Look at me.”
I lift my gaze to his face. His eyes burn under heavy lids. “Fuck me, who are you, princess?”
“Uma. I’m Uma.” That’s right. I’m not me. I’m not Ivy Rose Love. I’m an alter ego in a Rapunzel costume. I’m a girl who can talk to sexy-as-sin men. I’m a girl who can talk to her crush. More than that I can… well, I can… my hand darts to the button on his fly. Tugs until it pops free of its hole.
Look at me being a bad-ass and asserting myself. Uma Cookie is in the house tonight.
His eyes widen as I push him back against the vanity. He grips the edge to brace himself as I drop to my knees in a puddle of my purple skirts in front of him and yank his pants down past his hard cock.
His erection juts proudly in front of my face, thick and long and… magnificent.
“Princess? Uma?” He’s breathless. Anticipatory. His nostrils flare. “What are you doing?”
“I should think it’s obvious.” Do I dare touch him and feel how hot and hard he is? Wrap my lips around him and suck him until he comes? Taste him? Oh, there’s no way little Ivy Love could ever… but Uma Cookie… well, she would totally dare to fall to her knees in the middle of this dressing room where anyone could walk in on us.
I glance up at him as I surround the hard girth of him with my hand. He’s velvety soft steel. This might be my only chance of ever experiencing anything like this.
He flexes in my grip. Groans. “You sure?”
Isn’t he cute? Checking to make sure I want to be on my knees for him when this is all my idea. I wrap my lips around the crown of his scepter. Draw my tongue over the little dint in the top and taste his salty, tangy lubricant. It turns me on so much I feel my body grow wet.
“Holy fuck.” He hisses between his teeth.
I pump his shaft with my fist while I make love to his head with my tongue. I’ve never had the balls to do this before. With anyone. It’s a little hard to get to this point when you can’t get to a first kiss. Or even manage a conversation.
I’m not even sure I have the right technique. I draw him deeper between my lips. Take him in as far as I can. Until he hits my tonsils and the urge to gag makes me ease off a little.
He touches my hair and I push his hand away from the strands, scared my wig might come off. Spittle wets my lips when I take my mouth off his cock. “Don’t ruin it.”
“Uma.” He groans.
I grab the back of his thighs with both hands, avoiding his ass where I know he’s wounded, and pull his cock back into my mouth. I go deep. Until I gag on him. Then I back off again. Over and over and over I go with my cheeks hollowing and my lips gripping him so tight.
“Fuck.” His knuckles turn white on the edge of the makeup table. His chest rises and falls rapidly. “That’s… you’re… fuck…”
I increase my pace and use my hand to massage his balls. Stroke the fragile skin behind them. I’ve heard things… living with Adira… about what feels good to a guy. I don’t know what I’m doing but he sounds like that doesn’t matter.
“Oh God.” He thumps a hand on the tabletop. “I’m gonna…”
Yes, please. I go faster, harder. I want him to come for me. I need this to get me through the rest of my life, because after this there is no way I can ever see him again.
“Oh shit.” His hips drive him deeper into my mouth.
I choke on him. My eyes water. Tears slip down my cheeks. Angels cry because he is so damn perfect.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.” His eyes roll back in his head and he tips it to the sky. Tubes of lipsticks and palettes of eyeshadow rattle and knock against each other. Vials of mascara and bottles of nail polish clatter to the floor.
I suck harder. Salty liquid shoots the back of my throat. Once, twice, three times the hot spurts use my tonsils for target practice. It’s not the nicest taste in the world but it doesn’t matter because the fact that I could do that to him is its own sweet victory. I pull off and swallow it down like it tastes like cotton candy.
“Holy shit, Uma.” Rogue stares down at me like I’m some kind of mythical creature and he can’t believe his eyes. “That was…”
Amazing? Unforgettable? A first?
“It was nice.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and then use my fingers to pay more attention to the corners of my lips. My lipstick will be smudged now, but it’s worth it.
“Nice. That’s not the word I would use for it.” He chuckles as he tucks himself back into his pants.
“I should go,” I say.
“No.” He straightens and grabs my elbow before I can flee. “You can’t just leave after that. It needs to be reciprocated.”
I try to push a tendril of my hair behind my ear out of habit before I realize I’m still wearing the wig. I’m still a virgin. And I’m still painfully shy. While he’s the guy who has a different date to every social event and has hooked up with some of the sexiest women in the world. “I really should—”
“At least at the very minimum let me buy you dinner?” His thumb caresses goosebumps onto my arm. “As a thank you for saving me.”
“I don’t think—"
“Woohoo. Rogue. Are you still in here?” Adira calls out from outside the dressing room.
“Shit.” Rogue drops my arms and grabs his shirt. He pulls it on and latches the buttons in a way that I commit to memory. “I have to deal with this.”
I almost snort out a laugh. If he thinks he can deal with Adira he has another thing coming. “It’s okay.”
“No. No, it’s not. Stay right here.” He gestures with both hands for me to stick to the spot like glue. “I just need to talk to Adira for a few minutes.”
“You better be decent, because this queen doesn’t wait for anybody. Especially not a scoundrel like you,” Adira calls out as he enters the dressing room with one hand placed in front of his face, but with his fingers spread so wide it’s clear he’s not worried about Rogue’s modesty. “Oh, what a pity, you’re dressed.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Rogue returns, a flirtatious grin plastered on his face.
“Did you have fun?” Adira glances at me as he asks this
question, and while I won’t answer now, I can tell I’ll be forced into giving up the gossip at some point. I back up as he returns his attention to Rogue. “On the stage?”
I need to get out of here. After what I did with my mouth to Rogue’s beautiful cock I really can’t stick around. Uma Cookie doesn’t exist, she’s an honorary name Adira gave me. That’s all. It’s time to get back to the real world and the real me.
I back toward the clothes racks I appeared out of. I can disappear into them as easily.
“Absolutely.” Rogue grins like a cornball. “And you found the girl I was looking for, so thank you.”
I wave my hands in front of my chest frantically and hope Adira will catch on. Uma Cookie does not exist. She cannot exist. As much as I wish I could be her and spend my nights giving Rogue Maddox blow jobs in dressing rooms, this can’t happen again. It’ll only be setting myself up for disappointment and pain.
“I’m sorry?” Adira asks as I slip behind a rack of clothing.
“Uma Cookie.” He grins from ear to ear. “You found her.”
My heart skips a beat at how happy Rogue looks, then plummets when I realize that’s about to change.
“I didn’t.” Adira touches his arm. “That’s what I came to tell you. My lead didn’t pan out. I haven’t been able to find your Uma Cookie.”
“She’s right here.” He twists to show Adira that I’m right behind him and his face falls. “Well, she was here. She did say she had to leave.”
“There was no one but you in here when I came in,” Adira says, his voice full of sympathy. “I have to warn you, there’s a possibility that Uma Cookie is all in your head.”
“No, that’s…” He scratches the back of his head. “I saw her. She gave me a blow… torch.”
“A blow torch.” Adira snorts. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“You know what I mean,” he says.
“They call it a blow job.” Adira laughs again. “Say it with me.”
“Obviously it was a blow job.” He’s starting to sound frustrated. “She was here.”
“Right here in the dressing room? How risqué.”
“She was right here,” he insists. “I know she’s real.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Adira says.
“Know what?” he says. “It doesn’t matter. She was here. I said thank you. That’s really all I wanted anyway. Now, we can all go back to normal.”
“Good luck. Once a queen, always a queen. You’ll be back,” Adira calls after him as Rogue stalks out of the dressing room.
Adira locates my little hidey place between some assless chaps and the Marilyn Monroe costumes and leans on the rack while he grins at me. “You just gave your very first blow job. Was it good?”
I nod on repeat. My pulse is still racing.
“I am so proud of you.” He rests a hand on one hip. “But what are you trying to do to that man?”
Chapter Seven
Rogue
“What are you thinking about?” Rebel sits down on the pool lounger next to the one I’m occupying and hands me a tumbler of Rebel Rye.
My brother has his own whisky label. Yeah, that shit happened. Somehow our favorite redhead and honorary sister managed to keep his deal with Copper Rock. She also saved his role in the movie that he was working on when he assaulted Alec Hawthorne for a second time two months ago.
I still laugh when I think about the fact that he urinated on that rapist fuck. I wish I’d been at the event that night to see it. The Bilsons’ annual end of summer bash is normally the talk of Tinseltown, but this year they weren’t talking about the festivities. Oh no, they were definitely talking about my twin giving the douche nugget a golden shower. “I’m just thinking about Alec Hawthorne’s face when he realized you pissed on him.”
“It’ll never be enough,” he says without an ounce of amusement before taking a sip from his own glass of tawny liquid.
He’s right. The bastard hurt one of our own. And he threatened Summer to get back at Rebel for giving him the smallest taste of what he put Ro through. And he intended to do an exclusive tell all of his version of events that would no doubt have painted Rebel as the villain and put Ro through hell all over again.
It’s been seven weeks since Hawthorne laid down his gauntlet and Rebel knocked his ass out for a second time and was almost incarcerated. Again. Seven weeks since some sweet-ass weirdo with a penchant for recording conversations that have nothing to do with them sent a voice recording of Hawthorne making threats to Rebel’s lawyer, Jason Kilpatrick.
Jason had sent a copy of the tape to Hawthorne and his team with a suggestion that he consider any future actions very carefully before proceeding.
Unfortunately it was not enough to allow us to pursue legal action against the bastard, but it was enough to give the people who follow us on social media a different perspective on what may have happened between Ro and Rebel and Alec.
Summer had posted that shit to the world, and people in support of us had come out of the woodwork. Seven weeks later and the encouragement has been phenomenal and for the first time in a long time my brother and Ro managed to spend more than five minutes in the same room. Thanks to moi catching a couple of bullets, but still…
I have this sinking feeling there’s a storm on the horizon, though. You can hear the rumbles and see all the lights of the gathering shit show. But you don’t know when it’s going to land. You have no clue when it’s going to rip apart your perfect life.
I shake off the sensation of impending doom. It probably has more to do with almost being mowed down by a gun toting cult leader than anything else.
Alec has been quiet on social media other than a statement put out by his PR team that was a bare-bones apology for his bad behavior. He also fled L.A. for a private island in the Mediterranean. But I want blood. Rebel, Riot, and I…we all want to see that asshole fall. The recording gave people a reason to read between the lines, but I want him pay for his crimes. Ro paid with fear and her body. My twin went to prison. The least we can do is pay Alec back in kind.
“You should probably stop squeezing that glass so tight.” Rebel nods at my beverage.
I glance at my fingers around the cup. My fingertips have turned white with tension.
“Fuck.” I put the drink down on the little slatted table between our seats and wiggle my jaw. It used to be that he would be the one breaking glasses out of anger, but Summer has a somewhat calming influence on him. “Have you decided whether you’re going to do the interview with Marty?”
“I think so.” He puts his glass down next to mine. Clasps his hands between his knees. Two months ago Summer and Rebel’s award-winning-journalist-ex came to the agreement that Rebel needed to tell his story before Alec Hawthorne took control of the narrative.
He didn’t want to do it. Marty isn’t really one of our favorite people since four years ago she betrayed us and sacrificed our privacy to further her career, but she’s also popular and almost unfortunately truthful. Having her on our side this time gives Rebel a fighting chance of being heard. And now with the recording out there it seems as good a time as any to put it on record that Alec Hawthorne deserved so much worse than what he got. Remove any doubt. Even if Ro isn’t able to face him herself.
Rebel rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk about it when it’ll hurt Ro. I promised her that I would keep her secret. But…I didn’t help her by doing that. She isn’t better for it. And that asshole…he could still be hurting other women.”
The stark truth of it makes acid rise in my esophagus. Who knows how many girls are as terrified as Ro because of Alec fucking Hawthorne? How many women can’t move forward because of pricks like him?
And then there are people like my brother who will do anything for the people they love, the consequences be damned. He might not love Ro in a romantic way, but make no mistake, he does love her like she’s family.
“Either way sh
e’s going to hurt. But I think we have to do this. You need to tell your story. The fact that she came to the hospital and didn’t freak out about you being there…that’s a good step in the right direction, isn’t it?”
“I hope so,” he says. “But then your dumb ass did get shot. We thought you might die.”
“Yeah. That was my fault.” I lay back and let the sun’s warmth soak into my skin. This is the first day I haven’t had to deal with gauze and tape over my wounds. It’s nice to just stretch and not feel the tug of the glue on my skin. I run my hand gingerly over the fresh scar tissue. “I didn’t read the room. That chick had designs on my eligible bachelor status. Totally not worth it.”
“She thought you’d marry her? That’s some magical unicorn vagina right there.”
I laugh. “Speaking of magic pussy. Any thoughts on how long you’re willing to leave an opening for me to steal Summer from you?”
“I will fucking kill you,” he grumbles. “I will murder you in your sleep. I don’t care if you’re my brother. You try it and I will end you.”
I laugh again. “Damn, do you want to be any more territorial? Why not just lock her down?”
“I’m just waiting for her to realize that she’s going to wear my last name along with my ring.”
“So you’ve bought a ring,” I deduce.
“Why don’t you stop worrying so much about Summer and find your own woman?” He settles back in his lounger. Clasps his hands behind his head.
I chuckle. Another pair of eyes come to mind. Ice blue orbs. No, they were green. I frown. I was certain they were blue though. “Sounds dreadful. It works for you, but I’m not sure it’s ever going to be my scene.”
“Hmph.”
He sounds like he doesn’t believe me, and it’s not a conversation I want to have anyway. Especially not with someone as smitten as he is. People like him get hearts in their eyes. It’s kind of terrifying. What happens when those heart eyes turn cold?
We settle into silence for a while. Enjoy the sunshine and whisky.
“Summer and Ro have been talking,” he says after a while.
