White Pawn

by Stevie J. Cole

  “Needed Me”- Rihanna

  Signings. I’ve decided I fucking hate them because I have to share him. I watch Justin smile and nod, pretending he gives a fuck. He’s a dick, of course he doesn’t give a fuck. It’s exhausting watching all these people hit on my soul mate. I can’t even spend time with him. But, as much as I despise it, I’ll endure it, because, after all, I’m only writing for Justin. This is my grand gesture of love you find in all the love stories. And I want this to be a perfect love story.

  "I love his books,” the lady standing next to me at the bar says. “I hope I get to speak with him for a few moments. I smile at her before I gulp down more of my wine. “Wait,” she points her finger at me, shaking it. “You were at his table this afternoon. The rumor is that you’re his girlfriend.”

  “Oh, no…I’m just a…” I glance over at him, “just a friend. An acquaintance, really.” And now we’re part of the rumor mill. Look at us, Justin. Look at us!

  “A friend,” she chortles. “No woman can be friends with a man that looks like that.” She stares at him for a moment. “I’d sit on his face.” I feign a smile to hide my disgust. She’s old enough to be his mother and she just told a complete stranger she’d sit on his face. She’s still rambling about all the dirty things she’d do to him, but I’ve blocked her out. I don’t want to think about her riding him because it makes me angry. It’s an insult really, can she not see he’s mine, my soul mate, not a saddle for her fucking pussy?

  As I drink the last of my wine, my gaze locks on Justin. He smiles and, just like that, he walks away from the group, directly to me. “Just going to leave me to them, I see?” he says when he stops beside me. The woman who wants to ride his face grins. Her cheeks blush. And all she does is stare. She won’t dare say any of those nasty things she was just saying to me.

  “You looked like you were handling yourself just fine,” I say.

  “I handle myself very well.” He leans in close to me, his warm breath caressing my ear. “Almost as good as I’ll handle you.”

  My breath threatens to catch in my throat and the woman slowly walks away. “So sure of yourself.” Justin laughs then takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he walks me toward the exit. “And where are we going?” I ask.

  “To handle us.”

  My pulse echoes in my ears as a lovely heat drowns my skin. Justin pulls me toward the elevator, and I glide along behind him, high on the nasty glares every woman we pass throws in my direction. They are all jealous. They all know I’m about to be naked in a bed with him, and they hate me for it. When the door opens, we step into the crowded elevator. His fingers sweep over my cheek. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you in that coffee shop.” We stare at each other the entire way to the 7th floor. The tension so thick I’m sure the women in this tiny space are about to choke on it. When the door pings open, we step out. My heart bang, bang, bangs against my ribs as I follow him to the door. This is it. There is no turning back. The little green light on the door clicks, the lock pops, the door opens, and then... the door shuts and he aggressively pins me against it. His large hands wind in my hair. His lips trail over my neck, across my throat. Each heavy breaths forces chill bumps to scatter over my skin.

  “I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you,” he whispers by my ear and presses another kiss below my jawline. “Since I met you.” One hand leaves my hair and he grabs my face, forcing his mouth over mine in a brutal kiss. “Fuck, woman.” And without another word, he rips me away from the door and backs me toward the bed with both his hands cupping the sides of my face. “I want you.” Another kiss. “I need you.”

  And he does need me. I need him. We need each other.

  The back of my legs hit the mattress before my back lands on the fluffy comforter. Justin kneels on the bed, looming over me. He yanks his shirt over his head, his eyes flashing as he tosses it carelessly behind him. Even in the dark room I can make out the ridges, the dips and vee sculpted over his stomach. My heart pitter patters like a stupid adolescent when his warm fingertips trail over my collarbone. And a desperate, cliché gasp leaves my lips when he tears my straps off my shoulders, tugging the dress over my hips.

  His lips are everywhere: my mouth, my neck, my chest. This is reckless abandon and I will drown in it with him. I’ve waited as long as I can stand, and I’ve made him realize I’m not some stupid fangirl. I’m not some hopeless romantic. I’m something he needs, he said it himself. We’re static electricity.

  I reach for the waist of his jeans and pop the button, then shove them down his legs. After he kicks them off, he sits up on his knees. His hands work over my thighs, his eyes locked between my legs, and damn, there has never been a sight more tempting, more erotic than that of Justin Wild staring at me like he wants to devour me, flesh and bones. He hooks one finger underneath the side of my boyshorts, and my skin crawls with anticipation. His perfect white teeth sink into his lower lip, and I wish I knew what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. I wish I could hear his thoughts—how he’s waited for this just like I have. How this is the single most monumental moment of his life. His finger grazes my pussy and a wicked smirk consumes his face the moment he feels how wet I am for him. “Oh, I fucking like this,” he says, trailing a finger over me. “Very fucking much.” And now his fingers are inside of me. Justin Wild’s finger are inside of me.

  My back arches, my heels dig into the mattress. I squirm. I moan. Because this feels so right. Moments later, I’m completely naked—exposed in front of him. With a smirk, he slides between my legs, blowing a whisper of a hot breath over me. I fist the sheets, I buck my hips, I want to scream because his tongue is inside of me. He groans against me, his fingers digging into my skin. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

  And fuck you feel so good. Each breath I drag in is ragged. I’m on that edge. Teetering. One more swipe of his tongue and I’ll be undone. He pulls away, his mouth hovering over me. Each slow, hot breath causing my muscles to clench, my entire body to ache.

  “Justin…” I say on a pant and grab his hair, attempting to force his mouth back over me, but he jerks his head away. Laughing, he lowers himself onto me. His bare chest touches mine. Sensations. So many sensations. It’s like everything is about to explode. The air so thick with this primitive want, this euphoric high that I can barely breath. Everything is tainted by him, by us, by this… He settles between my thigh. I inhale a sharp breath.

  “You want me?” he whispers as he nips at my ear.

  “God, yes.” My thighs fall apart and I grab onto his shoulders.

  He presses against me. “You sure?”

  “Please.”

  I feel him smile against my neck. “You gonna beg me?”

  But he doesn’t wait for me to beg, he just slams into me unforgivingly. I gasp. My nails slice over his muscular back and, just like that, I’m in heaven, being fucked into an oblivion by Justin Wild. Sitting back on his knees, he holds my legs apart, watching—he’s watching us fuck and I love it. I moan. I meet each of his thrust, riding him from the bottom. “Your…” he growls, “…so fucking beautiful. So perfect.”

  He grabs my hips and flips me onto my stomach, pressing his hand over the small of my back before he gently rubs his hand along the curve he’s creating as he lifts my ass and hips up. “Shit…” he says, swiping his thumb over me. I turn my face, the sheets bunching underneath my cheek as I glance back at him. His wild eyes flick down to me and he brings his hand to his mouth, sucking me from his fingertips before he sinks inside me and fucks me hard and violent. Like a savage, he fists my hair and jerks my head back.

  “Come here,” he whispers as his lips press over mine a brutal kiss. He pulls away and traces his tongue over my throat, the heat of his uneven breathes causing a chorus of sensation to rupture over my oversensitive skin. “Jesus, woman,” he hisses. He groans. He drops my hair and my head falls to my chest as he goes at me from behind. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing
with our heavy breathing. I stretch my arms out and grab at the sheets, turning my face to watch. He’s so focused. Sweat trickles down his temples, over the deep indention of his chest. My stomach flips when his fingers dig into my hips and he tosses his head back on a deep groan. And here we are together, dancing on that proverbial edge. I let go, giving into the bliss he’s coaxing from me, screaming his name like he’s my god because this is how it’s supposed to be when you’ve found your one. Sweat drips down the side of my neck, and when that wave of addictive pleasure subsides, Justin collapses onto the bed, grabbing me by the waist and dragging me onto his sweat-slicked chest.

  He flips to his side and brushes his fingertips over my cheek. A torn expression washes over his face, his gaze drifting from my eyes to my lips. “God,” he hesitates and my heart flitters and flutters, “I want something more with you.” He kisses me so tenderly. “Do you hear me? I feel like my entire life has led me to this moment, like it’s always been you.”

  I stare at him. “You do write the prettiest lines…”

  He rolls his eyes. “Please,” he says. “Babe…it’s so different with you.” And I know it is, Justin. I’m just not convinced you really realize how different this is. I shrug and walk my fingers over his chest. He shifts underneath me, leaning over and grabbing his jeans from the floor, fishing his phone from his pocket before he flops down on the pillow. “Come here, gorgeous.”

  He pulls me back onto his chest and holds his phone out with his free hand. “Smile,” he says before snapping several selfies and immediately flipping through them. “Care if I put these on my page?” I glance at the screen. All that’s in the frame are our faces and the pillows. We look so happy. So perfect together. And my cheeks are still flushed with that giveaway orgasm-pink.

  “It’s fine, as long as you don’t mind catching hell from all those girls,” I say.

  “What girls?” He chuckles as he touches up the picture with some editing app. “You think I give a shit if people know we’re fucking?”

  But we aren’t just fucking, Justin. We are falling head over heels in love, don’t you realize that?

  “I tagged you,” he says before he grabs his boxers from the floor, and pulls them on. “Want a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  He smiles at me and kisses my forehead. “Be right back, babe.” He pulls his jeans up, grabs his shirt from the end of the bed, but doesn’t bother to put it on as he heads for the door. I shift in the bed and purposefully allow the sheet to fall just below the bottom of my breasts. Justin stops, his hand held above the doorknob as he glances back at me. A smirk forms on his face as his eyes veer down to my chest. “Oh, you know what you’re doing, don’t you?” He winks, throws his shirt over his shoulder, then opens the door and walks out into the hall. Before the door slams closed, I hear a girl call out to him. I hear him answer.

  He’s just come out of our room. No shirt. Messy bed hair. I hope that bitch realizes he fucked me. I hope she hates me for doing what she’ll never be able to do. And with that thought, I snuggle back down beneath the comforter, turning my head and staring at the pillow he’ll sleep on. It’s only a matter of time, I tell myself. A matter of time. He’s a man. Men need to realize what they need, and that often takes a while, but I am patient. I will wait. And wait. And wait.

  And wait...

  Chapter Fourteen

  Justin

  “Believer”- Imagine Dragons

  “Justin….” Some girl down the hall sings, but I keep walking. “Justin Wild.”

  I stop and turn around, plastering a fake-ass smile to my face. “Hey.”

  “God, I love your books…” And then she goes on a fifteen-minute tirade about how great they are, about how I’m the reason she started writing, about how hot I am, about fucking bullshit. She stands as close as she possibly can to me in the elevator and, when the doors open, she walks out with me. “Oh god,” she says, “I hope the next rumor isn’t that I’m screwing you.” She giggles and I stop midstride.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my brow wrinkled, “who are you again?”

  “I uh…” Her gaze drops to the floor. “Jenna Brandon.”

  “I don’t even know who you are. And I most certainly wouldn’t fuck you.” I grin and walk off.

  “Asshole,” I hear her mumble under her breath, and I just shrug. I don’t care if she thinks I’m an asshole. The last thing I need right now is some random chick trying to make people think I fucked her in the hopes to up her ranking on Amazon, or win some bullshit popularity contest.

  I walk into the restaurant and order two glasses of merlot, and while I wait for my order to be filled, my mind veers off to Marisa. To how perfectly her lips part when she moans, to how good she felt underneath me... how pretty she is when she comes. If I were the type of guy to get settle down, I would date her, but the thing is, the fun’s basically gone now. I’ve fucked her. I’ll do it a few more times to get her out of my system, hell, I may even pretend for a few days that it may work, because, let’s face it, I’m a hopeless romantic and the idea of love sounds amazing. Soon enough though, I’ll get bored with Marisa. Another shiny object will catch my attention, and then it’s on to the next girl that will stroke my ego and my dick.

  The guy behind the counter hands me the wine, and just as I go to turn around, I feel a hand skim my back. When I turn, Tori is standing behind me. Her gaze drifts from one glass of wine to the next, then she glances at her watch. “Oh, you are actually letting someone stay with you instead of kicking them out right after?” She glares at me. “Interesting. I guess even whores can have feelings, huh?”

  “Come on, Tori. I couldn’t let you stay with me, you’ve got a fucking reputation. People would have talked.” I take a quick sip of coffee, scalding my mouth. “Shit…and besides, it was just sex.”

  She laughs. “Yes, just sex, and I surely wouldn’t have wanted to have a hand in tainting your pristine image.”

  “Look,” I go to skirt around her, but she steps in front of me, “I know you’re upset—”

  “Oh, babe, I don’t get upset. I get even.”

  “God,” I snort, “that’s not cliché at all. Aren’t you an author? Come on now, you can do better than that.”

  Her nostrils flare, that little diamond stud in her nose glinting in the light. “You’re a fucking liar.”

  “I never said—”

  “You said I was different.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Tori. What did you expect would happen? Did you think I’d date you or something, give me a fucking break? You’re five years older than me.” I walk around her. “We were fuck buddies. Just, let it go already.”

  “Let it go? You want me to just…let it go?”

  “Shit, Tori, you know what?” Heat creeps over my chest and up my throat, “You should be on your knees thanking me. No one even bought your shit-tastic books until the rumors that we were fucking started. That little piece of the rumor mill gained you more acknowledgement than anything you’ll ever put on paper will.” A group of women are staring at me, eyes wide. Fuck it. “Hey, guess what?” I shout at them. They don’t move a muscle. “I fucked her.” I point at Tori and her cheeks turn beet-fucking-red. “There, does that make up for it. Give you some validation?”

  “I’m going to end you,” she says.

  “Best of luck with that.” Shaking my head, I walk toward the elevator and press the button. That woman couldn’t do a damn thing to tarnish me. I’m a publisher’s wet dream come true. I have a fan base that’s so loyal, nothing can destroy that. It’s laughable that some cut-rate author thinks she could have any impact on me. I seethe all the way up to the 7th floor, still a little pissed when I get back to the room.

  “Yeah... uh-huh…” The sound of the shower and Marisa singing fills the room the second I open the hotel door. I can’t help but smile at that. It’s endearing as fuck. I set the wine on the table in the corner of the room and flop down on the bed. The door to the bathroom’s o
pen just enough that I can see Marisa through the foggy glass door of the shower. I watch her lean her head back. I sink my teeth into my lower lip when she rubs her hands over that perfect, hourglass figure of hers. She’s not bothered by me like all the other girls are. She’s not a Tori or a Samantha, or even a…what was that girl in the elevator’s name…Jenna? I laugh to myself, Marisa is in a league of her own and I like that—no, I love that because it makes the challenge all the more fun. I stand and walk to the bathroom door, peeking my head inside. “I’m going to come in there.”

  She stops singing. “Whatever you want,” she says, and goes right back to singing.

  I shake my head before I pull my jeans and boxers off and reach for the glass door. The steam from the scalding water swirls around me as I close the door. Marisa gives me a once over and smirks. I stare at her breasts, the curve of her waist, those full fucking lips and I grab her waist, tugging her to me. Fuck, I love the way a woman’s wet body feels against mine, it’s—“What are you doing?” she asks, lifting a brow at me.

  My fingers skim along her waist, around to her ass. “Playing with you.”

  A quick smile flips over her lips and then…she swats my hands away from her and moves toward the door. “You already had your playtime for today.” And she steps out of the shower, leaving me with a raging hard on.

  “Oh, you are wrong on every level, woman,” I say.

  “Actually, babe, you were wrong to assume I wanted to fuck you again, now weren’t you?”

  If ever there was a woman that had a hope of getting me on my knees, I think it may well be her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marisa

  “Perfect Illusion”- Lady Gaga

  The sun disappears behind a cloud as we barrel down the interstate. An Ed song comes on the radio and Justin groans. “That dude’s a cunt,” he grumbles and changes the station. How he can’t love any song Ed puts out is beyond me. I’m starting to wonder if Justin truly is a hopeless romantic or not. He flips through the stations, finally stopping on an Imagine Dragon’s song. “Ah, that’s more like it,” he says, turning the volume up before he drums his hands over the steering wheel and belts out the lyrics. My hand has been on my thigh for the past three hours, palm up, just waiting for him to take it and hold it.