Hollywood Rogue: Rogue and Ivy Book 1 (The A-List Rebels 2)

by Misti Murphy

  “And as your bestie and ally, I need to know all about the D, babe.” Adira captures my hand before I can move away. “You still haven’t told me what it was like to have that superstar hottie fuck your mouth. It’s been a week, and I am dying here. I need the juicy details. My little princess is growing up so fast.”

  “That’s kind of gross, babe.” I roll my eyes and push at the bridge of my glasses nervously. The thing about Adira is that there’s very little that is personal. Especially when it comes to sex. He’s not being a pervert. Just sex-positive. And I kind of want to spill the tea, but what would Rogue think of me telling anyone about what happened between us? “It’s private.”

  “You clearly are lacking on your understanding of the girl code, because those are exactly the kind of details that should be public. Rogue Maddox is a total scoundrel anyway. He’d expect you to kiss and tell. I’m so mad at you for having so much self-control. I tell you everything.”

  “A little too much sometimes,” I quip.

  “What was that, you cheeky little minx?”

  I smile. Then I scrunch up my nose because it always surprises me when my face makes that particular expression.

  “Okay fine.” I pull out the other stool and settle into it. “Rogue Maddox has the most beautiful dick I have ever seen.”

  “Mmhmm.” He nods. “And what did it feel like?”

  “Seriously?” But I laugh, and that’s good too. I haven’t done much of that either in a while.

  “Yes.” He draws the word out.

  “Um. Satin, I guess. Or something silky, but like really hard too.”

  “Too literal.” He rubs a palm up his forehead. “Oh my God, too literal. I mean what did it feel like to give a blow job. Was it fun? Weird? What?”

  “Hot. It was freaking hot. Like I can’t believe I did that. Me.” It was totally out of character and not something I would have ever thought I could do. Certainly, Ivy Love still couldn’t. “It felt incredible. I felt so…” I don’t know. Adventurous. Excited. Turned on. “Powerful. Like I turned him on. I made him come.”

  “I love that for you,” he says.

  “It was pretty incredible.” I squeeze my hands on my thighs and raise my shoulders to my ears. “Except it wasn’t really me either. It was Uma Cookie.”

  “Do you know what could be fun?” Adira smiles like he’s just had a brilliant idea that will definitely lead to something I don’t want to do. “Let’s go to a straight bar tonight.”

  “Why on earth would that sound fun to you?” I ask. “The last time we did that some idiot wanted to fight you.”

  “I have a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I’m more than capable of protecting myself against bullies with tiny brains who don’t understand how truly spectacular I am.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.” I shake my head. Adira tackles the whole world like it’s a Tiffany’s box ready to be cracked open and offer her up the biggest diamond. “I can barely string two words together to talk to a stranger. Or a hot guy. Or Rogue Maddox. Unless I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

  “That’s the point,” he says. “We should practice. The more you practice, the better you’ll get at talking to people. Talking to men. Or those cute guys in that econ class you’ve been struggling through.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, girl.” He slides off the bar stool. His lips twitch up into a smirk as his heels click with the sway of his hips. He glances over his shoulder with a sultry arm movement. “You’re not going out without armor. At least not tonight. We’ll work up to that. We have plenty of time.”

  “I just finished the Aurora costume,” I admit. I could take it for a spin before I need to use it for a party.

  “Ah, no.” Adira cocks his head with so much sass I get whiplash. “I’m thinking sexy White Rabbit.”

  “Huh?” Rabbits are cute. They’re fluffy and soft. There’s nothing sexy about them.

  “Trust me, Love.” His hand engulfs mine as he tugs me out of the kitchen and through the apartment to the spare room that we’ve turned into a designated space for all our costumes. “You’re not going to recognize yourself.”

  He’s correct. An hour later I don’t recognize myself at all. I’m wearing a red ruffled mini dress under a cropped blue leather jacket. It shines like a mirror ball. White hair and big white ears make me look like an anime character. I’ve swapped out my glasses for contacts as per usual. Gray this time.

  “It has to be this one.” Adira holds a bag aloft from the pile he’s been rifling through. The clutch is circular and has a clock face printed on it. “It’s totally Alice.”

  I finish my face with a dusting of white powder to set my makeup. I have no pink nose or twitchy whiskers. That’s okay though, because this isn’t a children’s party. I no longer have to emulate the perfect Disney princess. It’s just a night out with my bestie. Dancing. Surrounded by people. “Maybe we should stay home.”

  “Maybe you should put these on,” Adira orders as he hands me a pair of white knee high boots.

  I pull them up my calves and in a bizarre Alice in Wonderland type twist they fit perfectly. “What? Why do you have boots that fit me?”

  “Because this was the costume that I had ready for you last Halloween.” His eyes shine with emotion. “Before…”

  Before we lost my dad and I ended up taking some vacation time at the mental wellbeing retreat. Instead of spending Halloween with Adira I spent it alone in my room watching Nightmare Before Christmas and Nightmare on Elm Street. I had a theme. “I miss him.”

  “You and me both, sister.” He swallows and turns me to face my reflection. “So let’s make Big Dick Love proud, huh?”

  A slutty bunny stares back at me in the mirror. The dress is so short it barely covers my panties. This girl… this woman… isn’t me. She’s mysterious and sexy. She’s someone else. “This is a Halloween costume?”

  “Would you prefer to dress as Coraline?”

  “I mean—”

  “You look hot,” Adira says. “If you weren’t my cousin I would totally want to fuck you.”

  “Would that mean we can stay in? Because I would totally think about it if that was the case,” I joke.

  “Eww.” He wrinkles his nose. “You really need to get laid.”

  “I don’t think so.” I’d rather get into my pajamas and eat yesterday’s takeout on the sofa than go out. And maybe fantasize a little over how Rogue Maddox planned to reciprocate. He seemed to take the idea that he owed me very seriously.

  “Bow tie.” Adira hands over a little white tie.

  I roll my gaze at him.

  “Just do it.” He shakes his fist and the collar jiggles.

  “Fine.” I take the choker from him and secure it around my neck. Then transfer the contents of my everyday purse into the clock purse. Including the fake ID he gave me for my nineteenth birthday so he could take me out on the town with his friends. It feels like a lifetime ago. The future felt promising then. Now, it’s just something I don’t want to think about. “Happy?”

  He tips his head this way and that as he studies me from top to bottom and back to top. With a smile he claps his hands together. “Ecstatic. Now let’s go get your fairy God momma a cocktail.”

  Chapter Nine

  Rogue

  “Are you enjoying your night?” I ask the pretty blonde parked on my lap as my thumb caresses the side of her neck.

  “I’m having fun,” Billie Jean says.

  Her skin is flawless. Not a single freckle to be seen anywhere. Trust me, I checked. I studied the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders. Her arms. Even that one freckle every woman seems to have is missing on this girl. But whatever, it’s not like I actually like sunspots on sun-kissed skin.

  “That’s good.” I watch my brother and Summer slow dance to the up-tempo beat coming through the speakers. They look so lost in each other. It’s fucking adorable.

  Summer’s frien
ds are dancing with a couple of guys they met tonight and Ethan is hitting on the shots girl. Bianca is in the bathroom with her new guy who I’m pretty sure is also a drug dealer. She has a thing for the wilder ones. We’re kind of similar like that. And I didn’t really expect Ro to show up, especially with Riot out of town. Partying hasn’t really been her scene since everything happened anyway.

  “I’m glad you invited me,” Billie Jean murmurs against my throat. Her lips tickle my skin. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

  “Me too.” Or at least I have been since she messaged me this afternoon. I’m certainly not thinking about Uma Cookie. Who, let’s face it, isn’t real. I totally made her up. Because there is no way that I offered to put my mouth to good use and caused a girl to run the fuck away.

  I know running. My brothers and I have done enough running in our lifetime to know what it looks like when it’s not a recreational response. We’ve been kids who run to get away from store security when we’ve stolen a loaf of bread because there was no food in the cupboards. We’ve run to avoid the cops when we’ve had one too many and done something stupid. And sometime, yeah, we run for fitness, though I much prefer a really good fuck.

  Uma Cookie ran because she was terrified of me. I could totally understand someone having that reaction to my brother, but not me. I’m the fun, flirty one. I’m the guy women find appealing. I’m fucking delightful, actually. Totally dangerous, but only to their panties and their hearts.

  With the way Uma went to town on my cock I’m having a hard time imagining that she’s fearful of the sexual attraction between us, so what the hell is her problem? Unless it is all in my head… I should probably see a doctor about that rash on my dick that I mistook for a Kylie Jenner lipstick stain because it didn’t come off easily then and…possibly my mental health.

  I lift my empty glass to eye level and examine it a lot closer than the idea that I might need to see someone about my hallucinations. Or I could get another drink. “Do you want tequila?”

  “I don’t drink tequila,” Billie Jean says as the tip of her tongue darts along the underside of my jaw and her fingers take a stroll down my chest. See, Billie Jean reacts exactly how I expect. There’s no surprise here. No mystery to solve. Only her nails scratching at my skin.

  It makes me kind of itchy and I shift her off my lap and onto her feet so I can stand even though I could just as easily get one of the shot girls’ attention. After all, they’ve been looking this way since we arrived.

  I tug at the collar of my T-shirt and give myself a bit of a shake with a hand to the back of my neck. I’m just not myself tonight. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m not even trying to convince this girl to come back to mine? “Bourbon?”

  “White wine would be great.” She tips her head to the side and exposes that lovely bit of flesh between the throat and jaw that’s usually so fantastic to nibble on.

  Maybe I have PTSDD. Post-Traumatic Stress Dick Deflation. That has to be a thing, right? After what I went through, getting shot and all. It makes perfect sense that I’d have a hard time getting turned on.

  Only, I definitely had no trouble getting hard when Uma Cookie had my cock in her mouth. In my fantasy. In my head. Shit. There’s no way some girl I’m not entirely convinced exists has me twisted up like this. And yes, even now, a little rigid when the sultry woman in front of me is more my type. “I’ll be right back.”

  I don’t even wait for her response. I just need another drink. I need to cleanse my brain of Uma Cookie before I flirt my date into a cab and back to my apartment.

  Something catches my eye as I make it to the bar. I’m not sure what, but it turns my attention from my next drink to a…bunny? “Okay, now I know I’m losing it.”

  I blink a couple of times to clear my vision, but the damn bunny doesn’t bounce away or disappear into a hollow or scream I’m late, I’m late. Although she has a suspiciously clock like handbag strung over one shoulder. This girl is seriously a…fucking bunny. A freaking rabbit. A cottontail.

  For some reason that is weirdly, and somewhat surprisingly, sexy. White hair and white ears shimmer under the club lighting as she waits at the bar. Her dress is tight and short and those long white boots draw my attention to her thighs and ass. I guess I’m looking for her fluffy, powder-puff tail, because I’m surprised when she doesn’t have one.

  She turns as though she senses me watching her. Her face is a heart. Her wide, doe like eyes pop in contrast to the white makeup she wears.

  There’s something about her…the costume…the shape of her face…those big doll eyes…they’re just like…“Uma?”

  She blinks and her lips part. I can’t hear what she says, but I’m pretty sure it’s “oh shit.”

  Well, I’ll be damned. “Uma Cookie?”

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks from somewhere in front of me.

  “White Rabbit,” I say. It has to be her. It has to be Uma. “Is it you?”

  “White Russian?” the big guy behind the bar clarifies.

  “What?” I glance at the tender. “Hang on just a sec.”

  He nods and moves on.

  Drinks can wait. I turn my attention back to White Rabbit just in time to see her disappear into the crowd.

  “That’s fucking it.” I can’t let her get away again. I smack my palm on the bar top and push my way into the crowd after her.

  Luckily I stand a head above a lot of the crowd and those ears on top of her head are like two foot tall beacons. Under the club lighting they glow. I catch sight of her quickly and change direction when she tries to evade me. I push through the crush, but she’s quicker and makes it across the room before I can get close to her.

  She scurries her sexy ass into a hallway. Her butt wiggles and that short dress swish-swishes around her hips. My mouth waters as I hunt her down, and it might be wrong, but I get a little territorial vibe going on about this little rabbit. And hell, maybe I do know a little Disney, because I feel like Elmer Fudd. I’m hunting wabbit.

  No. Hang on. That’s Looney Tunes. Either way I’m only a few yards behind her at this point. My stride eats up the distance.

  The hallway is quieter than the main area. The music still thuds loudly, but with a door between us and the pulsing club beat, conversation, and some drunk alley cat like singing, the noise is muted.

  There are bathrooms off the passageway and a few people loiter, either waiting to use the facilities or waiting for their friends to come out. Or just drunk enough that they can’t find the door.

  White Rabbit glances over her shoulder and jumps when she sees I’m still closing in. She tries the third door. The handle rattles, but the barrier doesn’t budge. She moves faster.

  “Uma?” I call out to her. “I know it’s you.”

  “It’s not me,” she says. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

  “I don’t think so.” I study her. “Why are you running away from me?”

  “I’m not.” She stops at the final set of flaps. They’re the ones with the bar locks and an exit light overhead. She shoves at them until they give for her.

  “You are running from me.” I clasp her elbow as we step into the alley. Her skin is warm and damp with perspiration. The night air is cool. And there’s a smell back here like wet cardboard and trash. “Please stop. I don’t want to creep you out. I just want to talk.”

  “Please let me go,” she says.

  I consider it. I really do. I want to do as she asks and unhand her. I sure as shit never want to make her feel unsafe, but I need her to stick around for a minute. “Promise me you won’t run?”

  “Why?” she asks in between shallow pants.

  I draw up behind her. So close I can feel the tremble of her breath. She smells like blackberries and lemon cookies and balmy nights in what I imagine is a field full of jasmine. I want to run my nose over the bare skin of her shoulder. Push her hair aside. And follow the delicate line of her neck all the way up. I don’t, because tha
t would be a real creeper move, but if she told me I could, my nose would be on her like a freaking blood hound. My mouth too. “Because I’m starting to question my sanity. You’re real. What happened in that dressing room was real. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  Her breath hitches.

  “I almost convinced myself you were a figment of my imagination a second time.” I sound a little more desperate than I would like. A little growly and assertive and like I give a crap about this girl in front of me. “Yet, here you are again. The moment I decide you can’t possibly be real, you pop up like a bunny. A sexy as fuck one at that. So tell me, Uma Cookie, are you thinking about me too?”

  Her chest rises and falls and she makes this frustrated little whimper in the back of her throat that has me hard in two seconds flat. Not that it takes long when I was halfway there the moment I saw her at the bar. No, before that. Just thinking about her has me up all the damn time.

  She nods slowly, deliberately. “So much.”

  “I’m going to let you go now.” I force myself to draw my arm away, half afraid she’s going to sprint away again.

  She catches my hand the second it leaves her skin.

  The contact is profound. It’s electric. I swear my heart stops so hard it’ll take a defibrillator and a can of Red Bull to bring it back to a normal rhythm.

  Her gasp hangs in the air between us like an echo off the brick walls surrounding the alley.

  I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she’s like an earthquake under my feet. The connection makes no sense, but it’s there. Tangible. I couldn’t pretend it isn’t if I wanted to. Maybe it’s because it almost seemed like kismet that she came along to rescue me when she did. Or perhaps I’m building this all up in my head. Either way I have to see it through.

  She spins to face me and I drown in her big gray orbs. Not blue, not green. Gray. Contacts? They must be. She lifts my hand to her lips. Kisses the fingertip of my pointer finger. Taps her tongue against it.