Star ARC

by Lynx, Elizabeth

  STAR

  by Elizabeth Lynx

  STAR

  Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Lynx.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events 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.

  For information contact:

  lynxelizabeth1@gmail.com

  http://www.elizabeth-lynx.com

  Book and Cover design by Elizabeth Lynx

  Photography by Improvisor

  Dedication

  To littlest Chris.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  STAR

  Dedication

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  STORIES BY ELIZABETH LYNX

  GET THE NEWSLETTER

  STAR

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  STORIES BY ELIZABETH LYNX

  STORIES BY ELIZABETH LYNX

  Newest Releases

  Idol, book 1 Price of Fame, standalone novella

  Star, book 2 Price of Fame, standalone novella

  Upcoming Releases

  Mogul, book 3 Price of Fame, standalone novella, releases October 17th, 2019

  Royal Disgrace, book 5 of Cake Love, standalone, releases November 7th, 2019

  Lost & Found

  Dirty Secret, prequel, standalone

  Cabin Fever, book 1 Lost & Found, standalone

  Living Hell, book 2 Lost & Found, standalone

  Multi-Author

  Happy New You

  Cake Love Series - standalone

  Rules of Payne, book 1, standalone

  The Attraction File, book 2, standalone

  One Wild Ride, book 3, standalone

  The Spy Ring, book 4, standalone

  Cake Love: Boxed Set, Books 1-4

  Him Her Them Series

  Her Night with Him

  GET THE NEWSLETTER

  Make sure you get the FREE EXCLUSIVE STORY + a SNEAK PEEK of the final story in the Price of Fame series, Mogul, when you sign up for my free author newsletter ⇨ http://bit.ly/MogulSneakPeek

  STAR

  A movie star moves next door. A disabled veteran minds his own business watching a rather loud *ahem* movie in his bedroom. What happens when she gets fed up with the noise by breaking into his place only to discover him in his birthday suit?

  Hi. I’m Niki Sargeant. The actress mentioned above. No, that’s not a movie pitch I plan to show producers. It’s my life.

  I recently became Hollywood’s it-girl and moved into a swanky condo. When I hear a woman screaming rather loudly from my new neighbor’s home, I’m concerned. Breaking into his condo seems like a good idea at the time, at least that’s what my friends tell me. I realize it’s a mistake once he appears in the living room with no clothes on.

  Yet, I can’t keep my eyes off him.

  Did Niki say she broke into my place over concern about a woman screaming? Let me tell you the truth.

  I’m Tucker Six, former Marine, the current head of a tech firm, and a mysterious loner. Maybe not a loner or mysterious but I am where it counts.

  Wait, that didn’t come out right. Let’s start over.

  There is only one reason Niki broke into my home, my body. I won’t lie. I’m cut and the coolest person within a five-mile radius. I can’t blame Niki for wanting me. But I have a problem. She obviously wants me for my body but I wanted her heart.

  ONE

  Niki

  “THIS PLACE WOULD MAKE the best porn shower scene,” Willa said as she demonstrated by bending over, placing her hands on the glass wall. “See, my face doesn’t even touch the glass. Plenty of pump-action space without worrying about my face being squished. And the mirrors!” She pointed to the large, framed mirrors which hung over the double vanity. “That would be hot.”

  “How would you have sex up there?” I asked lifting the sixth, or was it my seventh, glass of sparkling wine in the air and stared at the mirrors.

  Willa threw her head back with laughter. “Not on the mirrors. Sex in front of them. Great view.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Both Emmie and I let out a simultaneous, “Oh . . .”

  I let out a snort of laughter because I realized how dumb my question was, but then again, I was drunk. We all were. I guess that’s why imagining a porn scene in my new condo’s bathroom wasn’t weird at all. In some ways, it was logical.

  “It’s got five jets. If this acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll start my own porn company,” I said as I drained the bubbly into my mouth. My cheeks expanded and with a gulp, the sweet liquid slid down my throat. I discarded the flute on the counter, almost missing it completely but managed to use my boobs to catch it before it fell to the floor.

  Being well-endowed definitely had its privileges.

  “Don’t put ideas in her head, Niki. You know Willa would want to star in your first production,” Emmie said, leaning against the white marble vanity next to me. Her chestnut hair and olive skin were in stark contrast to her white pantsuit and the white walls of my bathroom.

  “I’m pretty sure Hunter and especially, Jon, would nix that idea right off the bat. But it does give me an idea . . .” Willa’s green eyes slid to the side as she bit her bottom lip. That could only mean one thing.

  “Whatever you’re cooking up, I want no part of it. I’ve just made it in Hollywood, and I can’t afford to screw it up, Willa.” My words came out a little slurred as I pointed to my friend.

  Normally, I wouldn’t be drunk, but it was celebration time.

  It was moving-in day into my new condo. Not just any place, but the poshest residential building in Libertyville, Maryland. Sure, it wasn’t the big city—Libertyville was a small suburban town—but everything in this building was state of the art. The association that ran this town knew how to spend the town’s money. There wasn’t a mayor, just an elected committee. They attracted the best developers, and I was reaping the rewards by living in the fanciest condo that existed outside of New York City.

  “Oh, what does this do?” Willa asked seconds too late for my warning.

  “Oh no, no, no.” I pushed back from the vanity and ran to the shower.

  The ceiling opened up and a warm rain shower cascaded over her body. That’s how it was written in the brochure—every faucet produced a cascade and every floor tile oozed warmth.

  “Wow.” Her long red hair, usually thick with a rosy shine, was more like a wet mop after a wine tasting.

  “Sorry.” I winced. “I meant to tell you to ask me first before touching any of the buttons. After the dry cleaning incident I had yesterday with the built-in laundry hamper, I’ve learned to read the manual before doing anything.”

  Worry managed to wiggle through my inebriated haze and I quickly grabbed a green towel and handed it to her. With a hesitant touch, she slid open the glass shower door and stepped out.

  “That would have been awesome if I was naked.”

  I held up my finger. “Give me a second. I’ll find you something to change into.” I left the master bathroom and slipped back into my huge bedroom.

  T
he last thing I wanted was for my friend to be uncomfortable in my new place, or worse, catch a cold.

  Moving into this place wasn’t on my plan to ring in the new year, but when life did a one-eighty in November and I went from a nobody to a somebody within days, my little studio apartment wasn’t keeping the paparazzi away—or the stalkers.

  Instead of fighting off a New Year’s Eve hangover with my usual plan of eating my favorite candy—gummy worms, of course—and binge-watching a telenovela, I hired movers. My friends insisted on helping by bringing over the bubbly and a box of pizza from my favorite pizza joint, Pizzeria Atlantic.

  Not that bad if you asked most people, but I wasn’t much of a social person. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my friends, but after the big New Year’s party Willa threw last night, I wanted to curl up on my couch and watch TV or read a book.

  I scanned the room and found a box labeled clothes sitting on my mattress that lay in the middle of the floor. Opening it, I rummaged, throwing clothes onto the floor. Most of those things were for summer, but I located a gray sweatshirt with a giant crab on the front.

  “Now for some pants . . . What the hell?”

  There was banging coming from the wall of my bedroom. It was so loud that I felt the vibrations from the wood floor and my toes tingled.

  And then came the cry.

  It was female and she didn’t sound like she was upset. She sounded like she was coming . . . hard.

  “Holy shit, Niki! At least wait until we leave before you break out your vibrator.” Willa’s voice came from the bathroom. I turned to find her with a big smile on her face, peeking into the bedroom.

  “I get that it’s been a while, Niki, but my stomach’s a bit queasy from last night. If you want us to leave so you can be alone, just let us—” Emmie said with her hand over her eyes as she stood next to Willa.

  “Oh my God! I’m not masturbating. That’s coming from next door.” I threw my thumb behind me and hiccupped.

  Emmie dropped her hand and Willa’s eyes widened.

  That’s when Emmie said something that I would have never believed she was even capable of thinking. I’d known her since first throwing dirt at her on the playground when we were three. She stood, brushed off the dirt, and pointed to the ground where the dirt normally resided. We became friends right after that because even then, I knew I needed someone level-headed in my life.

  “Let’s sneak in there and secretly record her.”

  Willa jumped back as if Emmie had spiders crawling all over her. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” Willa said making a cross with her fingers and holding them in front of Emmie.

  She shrugged and said, “I think up crazy ideas sometimes. It’s not always Willa, you know.”

  “No,” I said. “No, you really don’t. And it is always Willa.”

  Willa nodded. “Yeah. If you start coming up with zany plans to get us into trouble, then what’s the point of me being here? Do I cease to exist if you take over? Will I disappear like Michael J. Fox’s hand in Back to the Future?”

  “I realized yesterday that perhaps I’m a little too organized.”

  I snorted. My hand flew to my face in a mad attempt to reverse the snort. “Sorry.”

  Emmie sighed and came into the bedroom. She grabbed the sweatshirt and after reaching into the box of clothes managed to find an old pair of jeans.

  This was the Emmie I knew. The take-charge and make sure things got done Emmie. Like making sure I had help today and thinking to bring over pizza. She was on top of things and now she was suggesting doing something illegal? That wasn’t my friend.

  I wondered if something had happened to her last night.

  “I get it. I’m the reserved one. The friend who always has a shoulder to cry on or will race over to get you out of a jam,” Emmie said with a frown as she handed the clothes to Willa.

  I wanted to disagree with Emmie, but she was right. That woman, even as a teenager, never did anything wrong. She never made a mistake. She hadn’t even been dumped before by any of her exes—they always had an amicable breakup. That was weird enough when we were teenagers, but now I was jealous that she could easily move on.

  Emmie turned her back to Willa when she began to peel off her wet clothes, falling backward into the bathroom in the process.

  “Since yesterday was New Year’s Eve, I made a resolution. To be bold. To take risks. To do one crazy thing a week. And this week starts now.” I frowned and swore she mumbled something about not making the mistake she made last night, but then she pointed to the wall where the woman was still moaning. “Willa said the shower was perfect for a porn. What if your neighbor agrees? What if there’s a porno being filmed over there right now?”

  Willa hopped out of the bathroom with the sweatshirt and one pant leg on, her eyes wide. “Whoa. That would be eerie if it’s true. What if I’m psychic, but for porn?”

  Great. Since Emmie’s taking a break from being the reasonable one of our little group, it looked like I would be the one to pick up the torch.

  “Or, maybe, and I know this sounds crazy, my neighbor is just having sex and by us breaking in and filming her, we would be arrested for breaking and entering and being a peeping Tom.”

  “You can’t actually be arrested for being a peeping Tom.” Willa zipped up the jeans and stepped into the bedroom. “We would be charged with invasion of privacy.”

  Willa wasn’t a police officer or lawyer or worked with the laws of the country in any capacity. She was a singer. Yet, it wasn’t surprising that she understood the law that could get us arrested.

  “I’m not even going to ask why you know that, but since I’ve known you for the past twenty-five years, I have a good feeling everything you just said is true,” Emmie said as Willa raised her chin, somehow proud of her knowledge.

  “Despite the risk, why don’t we do it anyway? You know, like old times,” Emmie said with an evil glint in her eyes I had never seen before.

  Willa easily went along with it. They both turned and slowly inched closer to me. I looked back and realized there was no way out. With the muffled cries of, “Fuck me right” and “Cream my tits” floating through the wall adding to my unease, I caved.

  It’s the one thing my friends could depend on about me. I would always give in, no matter how ridiculous the idea.

  “Fine,” I groaned as Willa jumped and clapped. “But if we get caught, we tell the police we thought someone was being tortured and worried about the woman’s safety.”

  “My mouth is horny,” the woman said, coming—literally—from the other side of my bedroom wall.

  I could be shoving gummy candy into my mouth while watching Alessandro from La Corporacion escape from the island he’s been shipwrecked on using only coconuts and twigs. But no . . . Instead, I let my drunk friends talk me into breaking into my neighbor’s home so we could film them having extremely ridiculous sex.

  “This will be so much fun,” Willa said throwing her arm around me and Emmie, pulling us into a hug.

  “We’ll be talking about this for years.” Emmie’s smile grew as she stared dreamily into the distance.

  I agreed.

  We would be talking about this in the future. To a judge.

  TWO

  Tucker

  “THAT’S IT. UP MY BUTT,” the woman moaned.

  “With a rubber duck,” I added with a chuckle.

  “You’re a big soldier. So big. Fill my butt with your big weapon.”

  That made me laugh even harder. This one was good and she put on the best act. Even the sweat looked real like she was working for that orgasm. You know what was a nice touch? When she gritted her teeth as she came—that was acting chops right there.

  I settled back on my bed and turned my attention to my dick. The porn on my large screen TV flickering in the background with the volume all the way up to drown out my crazy thoughts.

  My cock was soft, practically lifeless, as it lay on my thigh mocking me—I sw
ear, it was smirking. Laughing that I would never experience hot sex again. Or be with a sexy woman who wanted me and wasn’t using me for money or fame. Or, if I was being super Dr. Phil honest, I doubt I’d get a date with a woman. Ever. Again.

  My cock wasn’t to blame. I could still get it up and come, but it was more than that—it was me.

  You know that break-up bit “it’s not you, it’s me?” That’s actually true with me. I’m selfish. I’m an asshole. I really didn’t have friends, unless you count my older brother, Hunter. The only theory I came up with as to why he tolerated me was that Mom dropped him on his head when he was a baby. She never owned up to it when she and Dad were alive, but it hadn’t stopped me from searching medical records or checking his head for dents while he slept.

  I never used to be a jerk. Okay . . . so that’s not entirely true. I was never the lovable Six brother—that award went to Hunter. He was the one with the dimples and the talent and the nice-guy personality. I was more of the loner but still enjoyed having fun. It wasn’t until my leg was amputated when I fought overseas that it unlocked some deeply hidden resentment for the world and especially, toy poodles.

  Nah. Just kidding. There’s no hidden resentment for anything, except for stairs. Now that I use a wheelchair to get around, stairs instantly became a challenge. While I couldn’t use them now and had never heard of anyone going up or down stairs in a wheelchair before, I believed with practice, I could do it.

  Sort of like parkour but for wheelchairs.

  I used to workout and practiced in my brother’s backyard, but now that I lived in a condo, there wasn’t anywhere for me to work on my stair-climbing challenge.