Wild Duet Bookset

by Colet Abedi

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  WILD

  By Colet Abedi

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Colet Abedi

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The Cataloging-in Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Photographer: Rob Polgar

  Model: Cathea Walters

  Formatting: Shanoff Designs

  For my aunt, Mina.

  I will never forget that first visit to the library.

  Thank you for feeding my dream. I love you.

  Chapter One

  The sex.

  The music.

  The drugs.

  All of it wraps around me, luring me into its sinful embrace. I’m in Hollywood’s hottest secret underground club. You can only get in if you’re invited.

  The requirements?

  Are you pretty?

  Do you like every kind of sex? Hard, fast, slow, kinky, like a rabbit, or like a courtesan?

  Do you like to push your limits?

  Does anything go?

  If you answer yes to all of the above, you’re in.

  And here I am.

  Yes, I’m pretty enough. Do I like to push the envelope? In every area of my life. Do I like sex? I think so, but I won’t know until I try. I’m a virgin. I’m twenty-two, an intern at one of the most powerful film studios in town, and I only started about three months ago.

  I received the highly coveted and secret invitation over email saying I somehow got on the list. Actually, it wasn’t somehow… It was because of someone—my best friend, Kerri, who I went to college with. She now happens to be my roommate and works with me as a paid intern at the studio. She’s invited to everything in town. Well, anything that’s worth going to. And in this town, it’s not a matter of what you know. It’s about who you know.

  I met Kerri at a party my senior year at the University of Boulder. We quickly bonded and realized we had many similarities: both of us wanted to work in entertainment and Kerri had a lot of insight, considering she grew up in Beverly Hills surrounded by everything Hollywood.

  I, on the other hand, grew up in Boulder, Colorado, a world away from the industry and all the glitz and glamour it entails. Since I was a little girl, I always dreamed of being a screenwriter, so when I graduated from college, I moved to Los Angeles, applied for a job, and began to pursue my lifelong desire. And even though I’ve been working as an intern for only a few months, I’ve quickly learned the way things work in LA, or at least the business of Hollywood.

  “We’re so going to have fun tonight!” Kerri says, grabbing my arm in excitement.

  I look over at my girlfriend and can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. She’s certainly dressed for fun in her tight blue minidress that leaves little to the imagination. Kerri’s beautiful face is alight with excitement. Her curly, pixie blonde hair falls perfectly around her face as her blue eyes dart around the club.

  “Yes, we are,” I tell her as I run my hand through my own long blonde hair.

  “You’re going to forget about that asshole,” Kerri says happily, “and no matter what, you’re losing your virginity tonight.”

  The asshole Kerri’s referring to is my ex-boyfriend, Henry. He’s a cheater—times four—and I wish the ground he walks on would swallow him whole.

  A girl’s allowed to dream.

  “That’s the plan,” I reply, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as angry as I feel.

  I met Henry, a.k.a. Asshole, working at the film studio. He’s an assistant to the president of the company and went out of his way to show me the ropes. We started dating a month after I started, and he quickly swept me off my feet. Fortunately, I found out I wasn’t the only girl he was trying to charm the pants off.

  “And even though you’re more covered up than I would prefer,” Kerri tells me as her gaze slides along my body. “You still look freaking hot.”

  “Covered up?” I put a hand over my thankfully flat stomach. That’s what a low-carb diet does after three days. Kerri made us go on a strict regimen for tonight. I can’t wait to have a hamburger and fries tomorrow morning, maybe even a pizza. Yes, tomorrow morning, I’m so hitting In-N-Out.

  “This dress is so tight… I could barely even get it on,” I grumble. “And let’s not forget you’re the one who gave it to me.” It had taken me a good amount of time to zip the black bandage dress up my body. It came right to my knees and was off the shoulder.

  “I gave you two choices,” Kerri says flippantly. “I thought you’d pick the gold mini. It looked great on you and matched your eyes perfectly.”

  “I don’t even know how you wear that dress.” I shake my head, ignoring the compliment. “It was so short on me; you could basically see my underwear whenever I made any sort of movement. And you’re taller than me.”

  “It’s Balmain,” Kerri responds quickly, like I must be insane to not appreciate the dress. “And I bought it off the runway.”

  I try not to roll my eyes. Kerri’s family is loaded, like crazy-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-their-money loaded. She’s a B.

  B among the studio interns stands for billionaire.

  The way she grew up is the exact opposite way I did. Where we scrounged for money, always conscious of what we spent and how we spent it, Kerri’s was one of luxury. The first time she invited me for dinner at her parents’ house on a Friday night, I almost fell over in shock. I never really believed people lived the way her family did. Cooks, drivers, maids… a full staff of people to see to their every need and an opulent home I don’t even think I could have dreamed up.

  “Follow me,” Kerri said as she grabs hold of my hand and begins to expertly navigate the club. “And remember, Wyld, anything goes. If he or she approaches you, and you want some, take it. No judgment. No rules.”

  My heart skips as I push my nerves aside and take a look around.

  I try not to stare.

  But it’s hard.

  Everywhere I look, people are either hooking up or dancing half naked. There are plush, black couches all around the club, set up for people to fall into various amorous positions, and the club goers are certainly making good use of them.

  I should be embarrassed—horrified even—by the carnal display before me.

  But I’m not.

  Instead, I’m turned fucking on.

  And right now, I can’t wait to find a man, the perfect stranger to take my offending V-card, and be done with it.

  For three and a half of my college years, I dated a man who wanted to save himself for marriage. I had tried every way humanly possible to get him to change his mind. I wore dirty lingerie. I tried role-playing. I walked around naked in front of him as much as I could without him thinking I was some sort of strange exhibitionist. I did anything and everything to get Charles, my too sweet
and sometimes sanctimonious ex-boyfriend, to give it up.

  Lord, was he resolute and frustrating beyond belief. We’d fool around and do everything but… and I swear I thought it would be the death of me.

  When I finally broke up with him because I wanted to take off and chase my dream to be a writer—and truthfully, I couldn’t take the I-want-to-save-myself-for-marriage speech any longer—Charles was still a virgin, in that one way only, cause we did everything but.

  But then, so was I for that matter.

  When I started dating Henry, I had planned on giving that gift to him, thinking I would be in a committed relationship, but that flew out the window when I realized he was just toying with me.

  And I’ll be damned if I will ever allow myself to be fooled or used by a man.

  If anyone is going to do the using, it’s me.

  And that’s exactly why I’m here, to find a man to have sex with in every possible way.

  We head up a flight of dark stairs and make our way past a few people loitering the path. We reach the second floor, and Kerri takes us down a dark hall that leads to different rooms in the club. I catch quick glimpses of each room I pass.

  My mouth goes dry.

  Everywhere I look, people are having sex. Group orgies, couples, same sex and not, all sinfully enjoying themselves in the safety of this sanctum. It’s a gluttonous display of carnal lust, and instead of being repelled by the hedonism, it excites me. There are no rules here. No tomorrows…

  And like Kerri just said, anything goes.

  “Here,” Kerri whispers in excitement as we enter a room.

  Four men sit on a round couch encircling a golden pole that has a voluptuous naked woman gyrating against it, expertly moving as the music pumps around us.

  We join the group, and Kerri walks over to the small bar in the corner. She grabs us drinks and stands next to me as I allow my gaze to rove over the men.

  There are two blonds with light complexions. They are handsome enough but do nothing to turn me on. I glance at the third guy. He’s biracial and built like steel—so gorgeous he makes my heart skip a beat. Interesting. A definite prospect.

  But his eyes are glued to the naked display before him. His attention is focused on his prize, and I can tell there’s no deterring him. One thing is for certain; I want to be the only thing that matters in the universe to whomever I pick tonight to sleep with. I grew up with a mother who was the exact opposite, cowering over in fear and insecurity that she wasn’t good enough for my cheater of a father—no way would I ever be that kind of woman.

  That’s why I’m here now.

  Charles spoiled me in college, and to be fair, he really wasn’t the “typical” guy. And after my bitter taste of reality with Henry, I realized my heart had softened to the idea of caring about a man, foolishly believing in the idea of a committed relationship. I should have known better. I would never make that kind of mistake again. Fool me once—

  My gaze finds his.

  Holy fuck.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  Yes.

  Heart-racing, mouth-watering, panty-wetting, too-good-to-be-true handsome.

  He will most certainly do. His green eyes are bright, like emeralds shooting out of what I can only describe is the most raw, masculine face I’ve ever set eyes on.

  His square jawline is cut like steel, set in a stubborn line accentuating his powerful but gorgeous face. His hair is thick, black, and I seriously want to run my hands through it. His full lips tilt up slightly as if he’s amused I’m staring at him so blatantly. But I don’t care. Isn’t that what this club is all about? I’m not supposed to be shy. I’m supposed to be aggressive. Obvious. It’s the only way I’m going to get what I want.

  I boldly meet his gaze before continuing my slow perusal.

  I get momentarily distracted, lost in my own imagination by the fullness of his lips as I picture what they’d look like on my mouth and body.

  I’m wet in no time.

  I’m so turned fucking on that it gives me a buzz better than alcohol. My eyes move from his lips down to his body. Though he’s seated casually, leaning back on the black leather couch, I can tell he’s tall and fit. Rock hard. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt that fits like butter on his broad chest. One muscled arm is draped casually over the back of the couch while the other cups a drink. He rubs one powerful finger along the rim of the glass as he watches me curiously.

  He lifts a black brow before beginning his own once over.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  He sets my body on fire with a flicker of a gaze, starting on my lips and moving to my breasts, over my stomach, and down the length of my calves. His sizzling green eyes look intrigued.

  No.

  More than that.

  Turned on.

  I lift my drink to my lips and take a long sip, purposefully allowing my lips to linger unnecessarily longer on the rim before pulling my glass away in satisfaction. I cast a surreptitious look in his direction, and my heart slams hard against my chest.

  Holy…

  If a look could—

  Fuck.

  Yes, fuck.

  That is exactly how it would feel.

  Tingling, everywhere I can feel.

  Heat, moving through my veins and warming every part of my soul.

  Desire, shooting pins of wanton need in my stomach and loins.

  Longing, wanting to grab that delicious face of his and lose myself in those sinfully full lips.

  He moves fast. He sets his drink on the table and stands to his full height, and I’m not disappointed. God, I love them tall. I’ll have to crick my neck to look up at him when he gets closer. And I know he’s coming closer.

  He’s by my side in less than ten seconds.

  The force of his energy nearly sucks the life right out of me.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I say in return, hoping my voice sounds calm.

  My breath catches when he unexpectedly entwines his hand in my hair and rubs the back of my neck. Lightning shoots through my body, the slight touch of his hands triggering a river of goose bumps all along my skin. His bold move only serves to turn me on even more.

  “Did you feel that?” he asks, his voice echoing my own surprise over my body’s reaction to his simple touch.

  I bite my lower lip, refusing to answer. I lock eyes with him.

  My reaction seems to annoy him, and he tugs on my hair, bringing his lips a breath away from mine. I gasp in longing. I want to feel those lips on mine more than anything.

  “Answer me,” he growls, his eyes feral.

  I still don’t want to. I know I’m playing with something I don’t understand—a chemical reaction… with a man I don’t even know.

  His grip slackens, and his hand begins to rub my neck. His long fingers move down the top of my spine to where the zipper begins on my dress. He grabs hold of it and begins to toy with it, like he might unzip me right there in front of the entire room.

  Not that they even notice. Or care.

  A quick glance around shows me the exact scene I glimpsed the second I walked in. Except now, Kerri is sandwiched between the two blonds, smiling coquettishly like she doesn’t know which one to pick.

  When I look back up at my mystery man, his smile is possessive.

  “You’re coming with me.” His voice is strong and sexy.

  Chapter Two

  He grabs my hand, and I follow him out of the room.

  My heart is beating a mile a minute, and I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I barely pay attention to where my mystery man leads me. I down the rest of the contents of my drink and try to remain calm, but the excitement and nerves prevent me from enjoying any type of buzz.

  He walks up to a formidable-looking security bouncer, who stands guarding a VIP door. There are no words exchanged between the two. The bouncer opens the door and in we go. For a second, I feel a tinge of fear.

  What am I doing?


  With a perfect stranger?

  Am I crazy?

  My mystery man doesn’t let me change my mind because, before I know what’s coming, he pushes me up against the padded black door. His body grinds into mine in every which way as both his hands move up the length of my body. They tug on my hair, lifting my face toward his.

  His emerald eyes blaze into mine, and his sensuous lips curl up in a half smile. I can feel his cock. His big, what I’m absolutely positive is a perfectly beautiful, cock rocks into me, making me incapable of standing on my own two feet. If he wasn’t holding me up, I think I might fall.

  “Do you feel that?” His voice is raspy, strong.

  I might orgasm right now.

  “Yes,” I tell him because I can’t help myself. And because he’s so damn impressive I feel like I need to acknowledge it.

  “Tell me your name.”

  “Wyld,” I whisper to him.

  He smiles down at me like he doesn’t believe it’s my real name. I get that a lot. But it is.

  It’s Wylder Alma Buchanan.

  Mystery man pushes away from my body, robbing me of his delicious masculine energy. I want to tell him to come back, but I also want to be cool.

  “Okay, Wild,” he says after a minute. He walks over to a black leather bar, fully stocked and lit by dim lights. He grabs a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey and pours himself a glass.

  “You haven’t asked my name.” His tone is curious.

  “I don’t care what your name is,” I reply truthfully.

  He gives me his beautiful profile. He’s wearing a half smile. I wonder what he thinks of my answer.

  “Drink?” he asks, giving nothing away.

  “Yes.” My voice makes me sound parched. “Whiskey. Straight.”

  He lifts a brow, impressed.

  I look around the room. The walls are padded with black leather, and there’s a large circular bed in the center of the room. I glance back at mystery man and watch as he finishes making my drink.