“Oh my god you’re so beautiful,” I exclaimed, “pictures just don’t do you justice at all!”
“You’re too sweet,” Angelica replied with false modesty, “I look just awful today. My tennis workout was killer.”
“Ms. Hunt,” I replied, hoping my notes were correct and she despised being called ‘Mrs.’, “I’m so happy to meet you. I’m really excited to be here. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. Our readers adore you.”
Angelica beamed.
Sadly, it was true. This gorgeous creature with the face of angel was the biggest gold digging tabloid queen since Anna Nicole Smith. Her nudes went for a fortune, and gossip on her was worth almost as much. The readers of JuicyNews absolutely devoured content on Angelica Hunt. She was fascinating in the same way a train wreck is fascinating. You couldn’t look away from her impending self-destruction, and she seemed to have an uncanny skill for coming out on top of situations that ought to ruin someone. Back in my former life as an investigative journalist, that would have been my angle for this profile. Now, however, I was relegated to writing a fluff piece on her pampered daily routine and insipid opinions.
“Of course!” Angelica was saying, “I’m always happy to chat. This will be so much fun. I can’t wait! Have a seat,” she said, sweetly gesturing to one of the plush, lavender velvet armchairs. Then, to Tara she barked harshly, “Go get us some coconut waters!”
Poor Tara scurried off. Underneath the bad makeup and ugly clothes, I had a suspicion that Tara was actually an attractive woman. Angelica probably made her dress dowdy, so she’d look better in comparison. I’d met a few starlets that did the same thing. Being the personal assistant to someone like Angelica Hunt was my idea of hell. I don’t care how much it paid, I would never spend my days fetching coconut water for some spoiled bitch who can’t say ‘please’.
I attempted to perch delicately on the chair, but it sucked me hungrily into its cushy depths. It was hideous, but it was without a doubt the most comfortable chair that my ass had ever experienced. I gave up on ladylike posture and let it have its way with me.
Take me, comfy chair. I’m all yours.
If I couldn’t have Nathan Breyer, who was way out my league and had probably already forgotten me, at least I could enjoy the chair.
“Ms. Hunt,” I continued, trying to banish the memory of his incredible blue-green eyes by staring into Angelica’s empty sapphire ones, “the format and duration of this piece is totally up to you. Again, our readers just want to know you, to know what it’s like to be you. You’re a phenomenon. I was thinking we could do ‘A Day in the Glamorous Life of America’s Princess’. And, of course, we’ll do a short piece on your house for the Style section, too. What do you think?”
I could tell by her vapid giggles that I was hitting the exact right tone with Angelica. She smiled like she’d just won the lottery (although it would not even make a significant impact in her bank account these days). I was getting depressingly good at this.
“Oh yes,” she replied happily, “I think that would be a wonderful direction to start with.”
No one goes two hundred thousand dollars into debt getting a journalism degree from Columbia to be a gossip columnist. This was never my plan. But after graduation and being laid off from three papers in one year, I was straight-up broke. Twenty months ago, I promised myself this would be a temporary gig, just until I could find another full-time news job. But financial stability and the ability to occasionally afford luxuries like fresh fruit, coffee, and gasoline had me hooked on writing gossip. It’s not so bad if you just smile your way through it. Smile widely enough and you can suppress the activation of the muscles that govern your gag reflex.
“Awesome!” I said enthusiastically while grinning from ear-to-ear, “so tell me, what does a princess eat for breakfast?”
A Palace Fit for a Princess
By Zoey Atkinson, JuicyNews Style Contributor
There’s no place like home! There’s no place like home! There’s no place like Angelica Hunt’s incredible Pennsylvania home!
The heiress, model, fitness guru, and Instagram star first moved into her late husband’s generous slice of suburban heaven four years ago and has been putting her personal touch on it ever since. Now Hunt is a single woman and shares the palatial estate with just her staff and four Yorkshire terriers: Marilyn, Jayne, Brigitte, and Raquel (yes, they are named after sex symbols).
“I’m so very thankful. I was unbelievably shocked and devastated when my beloved Albert died, so to have this big beautiful house to remind me of him, we have eight acres of gorgeous land,” she tells JuicyNews in an emotional, exclusive tour, “it’s like he’s still with me.”
The first space she visits is the opulent Great Room, with soaring ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and a cozy fireplace. Although the grounds are covered in garden-like topiary shaped like various fantasy animals, the luxe leather seating area is fantastical enough to compete with the sprawling exterior amenities. It’s a space fit for a princess.
In another living area in Angelica’s bedroom wing, “the cozy factor is 100,” she says. An enormous flat-screen TV, plush lavender velvet furniture set complete with faux-fur blankets, and upholstered walls create a relaxing environment, while sentimental collections of photographs and memorabilia remind Hunt of special moments in her life.
“I have some very important objects to me, like this crazy ski mask,” she says, picking up the rhinestone-covered item that she jokes her friend, actress Amber Heard dared her to wear when they were drunk. “I got this in Aspen a few years ago on a trip that really meant a lot to me.”
The empty nursery is the most bittersweet part of the home. “Sadly, Albert and I were never able to add a child to our little family,” Angelica said, reaching out a melancholy, manicured hand to brush the blank walls of the eight-hundred square foot space which boasts its own nanny’s suite as well as several bathrooms, “but someday, if I ever remarry, my baby will grow up right here. I know Albert would have wanted it that way. His other children [from previous marriages] all grew up here.”
5
Nathan
Today was the day. The unmanned launch was exactly one hour and twenty-two minutes away. And what was I doing? Reviewing the launch data. Again.
I examined the equations governing the parabolic arc of the module’s flight over and over. It seemed like a good parabola. The module would go up, kiss the edge of space at its vertex, and then the module would go back down. Hopefully, it wouldn’t explode.
The parabola wasn’t revealing any secrets to me that better minds hadn’t already gleaned. Math was a real strength for me, but I was also bright enough to know that I wasn’t a genius. Instead, I went out of my way to employ as many geniuses as I could find. My small army of geniuses had been through this parabola already. They had also come to a consensus that it was a solid parabola.
I needed to stop obsessing. Luckily for me, distraction decided it was a good time to confidently stride into my office on four-inch fuck-me heels.
“Hi,” Zoey Atkinson said softly, waltzing into a restricted area like it was something she did every day. She shut the door softly behind her. How the hell did she get in here? Why was she here at all? She was supposed to be on the launch platform with Angelica Hunt’s entourage.
I resisted the temptation to pinch myself and confirm that she wasn’t a stress hallucination. NASA had tested me intensely, so I knew I didn’t experience stress hallucinations. The only hallucination I’d ever had during training was from oxygen deprivation when a flight mask had malfunctioned. I’d seen some glowing lights and wiggly squiggles, but never sexy women.
Zoey was real. She was wearing another conservative work dress, grey this time and with accessorized with a wide leather belt. Her hair was styled differently today, loose and wavy instead of sleek and straight. I liked it better than yesterday’s. It looked freer, sexier.
“Zoey Atkinson? How did you get in here?” I at
tempted to snap, but it came out in more of mystified tone.
Zoey shrugged at me.
“I’m an investigative reporter,” she said, smirking, “I have my ways.”
“Actually,” I replied grumpily, recovering control over my tone, “you’re a gossip columnist these days. I looked you up.”
She frowned at that.
“Technically yes,” she admitted, “but I’m always on the lookout for a good story. A real story.”
“Are you implying that interviewing Angelica Hunt is not a real story?” I teased. I’d wanted something to take my mind off the launch data. This was definitely doing the trick.
“There’s a real story there, but I’m not going to be the one to write it. I have to write ‘A Glamorous Day in the Life of America’s Princess’,” she said, looking pained, “and no, I didn’t come up with that title.”
“Is that why you’re in here?” I asked her, rising to come around my desk and stand in front of her, “Are you looking for a real story?”
“Would you believe it if I told you I was on the viewing platform with Angelica when I went looking for the powder room and got lost?” She asked, batting her eyes and flashing another mischievous smile at me.
“No,” I replied, aiming for a scowl but feeling a matching smile spread across my own face instead, “I wouldn’t believe that at all. You’ve gone through way too many elevators and locked doors just to powder your nose.”
“Oh,” she answered with a pout, “too bad. Well then, yes, I was looking for a real story.”
“I’m sorry to report that you won’t have an opportunity to snoop around in here,” I replied seriously, “but I’m happy to give you a copy of our press release.”
“You’re no fun,” she purred, taking a step closer to me, “I don’t want a copy of the press release. I want a good story.”
“I’m about to send my module on its third successful commercial space flight and that’s not enough of a story for you?” I replied incredulously, taking a step toward her in return, leaving about three feet between us, “I’m not sure what I have to offer you if that isn’t satisfactory.”
“Really?” She challenged, erasing the distance between us by fifty-percent with her next step, “I think you’ve got plenty to offer me that would be more… satisfactory. I’ve seen your sex tape. I think you could give me a great story, although I doubt my editor would let it go to print. This story might just have to stay in my diary.”
This was, without a doubt, an incredibly bad idea. Letting the sexy gossip columnist come in here and seduce me right before the launch was stupid. Ridiculously stupid. Staggeringly stupid.
I was gonna do it.
“Alright,” I told her, stepping forward a final time, and bringing me eye to eye with her, “you win. I’ll give you a story.”
Pulling her forward by the shoulders and against my chest before I finished speaking, I was rewarded by the sight of her big brown eyes widening and soft lips parting in surprise. My mouth found hers a heartbeat later.
6
Zoey
He kissed me. I’d come in there to seduce him, obviously. I’d snuck in, looking for an escape from my general stress about my nosediving career, and the specific stress created by Angelica the walking dumpster fire, but I didn’t expect and couldn’t have predicted how my body would react when we touched. I felt like a bottle of champagne that had just been uncorked after years of waiting in a dusty wine cellar.
Effervescent and light, his warm tongue danced atop and around mine as he dropped his hands from my shoulders down to grip my waist. His lips were soft, teasing almost, but his hands held me to him possessively. This was a dumb idea, and I would almost certainly regret it later, but in that moment, I was ready, willing, and eager to be possessed by him.
We were pretty much both done talking by that point. All our substantive communication after that first kiss could be better accomplished without words. Nathan squeezed at my waist as we kissed, driving me backwards a few awkward steps and up against the wall to his office.
I ran my fingers through his soft, dark hair as we explored each other’s’ mouths. He probably half-expected me to lose my nerve and run away, but I wasn’t that type. Once I make up my mind, there’s no changing it. I wanted Nathan, and that meant I wanted all of him, right then and there against the wall.
His heavy breathing suggested he felt the same. Nathan’s fingers fumbled around the zipper to my dress for a moment before giving up and just going to the hem. He lifted my skirt eagerly and ran his fingers up my thighs, pausing in confusion as he went past the garter clips holding up my stockings, to my waist. He wasn’t wasting any time, either. I giggled into our kiss at his urgency and was rewarded with a pinch on my ass, which only made me giggle more.
“These are sexy,” he remarked, pulling back to get a better look at my thigh-highs and garter belt now that my dress was bunched above my waist, “did you wear these for me?”
I smiled shyly and nodded. This morning I’d pulled out my usual control top pantyhose and cotton panties and decided they were just too unsexy. At that time I hadn’t made the decision to seduce Nathan yet, but the impulse had been rattling around in my brain since I first laid eyes on him.
Nathan grinned at my admission and dropped down to his knees to get a better look at my black satin lingerie. He placed gentle kisses on my inner thighs and I gasped when he then kissed over the delicate lace that made up the panties of my bodysuit and sent gentle fingers between my parted legs. I could feel the warmth and wetness of his mouth through the insubstantial fabric, and it made me tremble.
“How do I get this off?” Nathan asked me, looking up at me with an expression of adorable confusion. Had he never seen a bodysuit before? I reached down and undid the gusset snaps, bearing myself to him completely. His eyes widened.
“Why don’t all women wear these?” He asked, rhetorically, I was assuming, since his next kiss between my legs left me unable to reply.
I was glad for the wall against my back. I leaned heavily back against it, and then more so when Nathan lifted my left knee over his right shoulder to spread me further. He lavished gentle attention on the most delicate part of me, licking slowly before penetrating me with a finger up to the first knuckle and giving me shallow, torturously slow thrusts.
Bucking against his finger, I tried to push deeper but his grip on my knee kept me stationary. His slow assault with his tongue and finger continued until I was breathless and panting before he added a second finger and pushed more forcefully. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Finally, my whimpers and needy little moans must have clued him into the fact that I was well past readiness and into desperation because he released his grip on my knee and stood to kiss me again. I could taste myself on his mouth and it stoked my arousal higher. I sent my grasping fingers to his fly immediately, and he made a low, sexy noise in his throat when I freed him from his boxers and began stroking with both eager hands. He was much bigger than I’d ever encountered before in my relatively limited experience, but my brain was so lust-addled that any nervousness was transmuted to desire.
Before I had to ask, Nathan fumbled in his wallet for a condom and rolled it on. He reached for my knee again, this time wrapping it around his waist, and then took me, inch by inch. I held tightly onto his strong shoulders, trying to relax into the sensation. This position allowed me no quarter. Without going onto my tiptoes on one high heeled foot, I wasn’t able to escape or ease the tension of being so thoroughly filled.
I let my head lean forward into his shoulder as we stood, both gasping and completely joined for a moment. The tension in me shifted subtly as he turned and met my eyes, subsiding from the discomfort of discovering that I could take all of him to the anticipation of continuing to do so while we moved.
His first thrust into me rocked me to my core. I moved back and forth into him and we found our rhythm together, a quick, ungentle pace that provoked a deep, increasing tightness wit
hin me that only he could release. I pushed shamelessly against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, whispering demands that he go harder, faster, deeper. He complied eagerly, seemingly as lost and overcome as me.
My climax took me over the edge before I ever saw the edge approaching, and I plunged into the wave of clenching, gasping pleasure with no warning. It overwhelmed my senses and sent my toes curling tightly in my heels. For that moment, all the worry and fear about my career, all the frustrations, discomforts, and challenges of my life dissolved into a singular, consuming joy. Nathan followed me down into climax a bare second after, moaning softly with closed lips into my neck as he came.
But the moment it was over, I regretted everything.
7
Nathan
I hoped I’d succeeded in giving Zoey a satisfying story, because she’d just given me a shiny new obsession with her. She was phenomenally sexy, and I was dumbstruck by how much I wished we had time to enjoy the afterglow. I’m not usually much of a ‘cuddles and snuggles’ type of guy at all, but I craved more of her attention and wanted to give her mine. Yet as I watched her rapidly straighten her clothing and reapply her lipstick in a mirror she produced from her handbag, I began to suspect I’d done something wrong; she wasn’t looking at me. Obviously, this was just a hookup, and I tried to feel appreciative and relieved, but the thought filled me with something like frustration instead.
Kiss and Tell (Scions of Sin Book 2) Page 3
