DirtyInterludes

by Jodie Becker

  She settled her body higher, hands pressed over his shoulders, her long hair drifting down to caress his skin. He tensed as awareness tingled. Her delicious cunt slid along his lower abs, just above his cock, the wetness of her untouched pussy compelling and gratifying. He wasn’t the only one suffering. Max hissed as her butt rubbed the tip of his cock. He longed to shift her a few inches downward so he could thrust into her tight sheath. Her touch was heaven and hell combined. He wanted her to go on forever, but needed her to settle over his dick and give him the fucking he desperately wanted.

  He heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and he opened his eyes as she scooted down to roll the latex over his erection. Max’s cock jerked as white-hot pleasure followed after her touch and he gripped the base, cursing as a climax threatened.

  Bridget stared at him askance and he shook his head. “I fucking don’t believe it. I almost came.”

  The kiss she gave him quickly turned ravenous. Passion surged and he cupped the back of her neck, telling her with his mouth how much he adored her. Wanted her above all else. She shifted and Max moaned as the cusp of her vagina pressed against the head of his dick. Bridget whimpered, enveloping him in her gorgeous pussy before riding hard until the culmination of their pleasure crashed over them with enough force to steal the air from his lungs. Limbs weak with gratification, he held her close, wanting to absorb everything they shared. To halt time and enjoy what they had.

  After a while, he let her go, and she rolled off him. Max discarded the condom and lay beside her, his hand on her hip. She smiled lethargically. He ran a finger along her cheek and hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. Words deep within his chest threatened to emerge and he forced them back into his heart.

  “You’re unbelievable,” he whispered. “I’m glad I met you.”

  She blinked as if to deter tears. “Me too.”

  He kissed each eyelid, every touch of his lips on her like a silent promise. A promise to be the man she needed. Settling closer to her, he caressed her hip, scanning her face. “You don’t know how much of a rock you’ve been to me. I lo—like you.”

  Her eyes lost that luster and the smile turned a bit fragile. He’d said something wrong, but he couldn’t make himself rectify it. He almost said he loved her, but he’d only known her for such a short time, reason demanded he give it time, but his heart commanded him to take the leap. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I promise I’ll be here when you wake from now on.”

  “That’s a relief,” she said impishly.

  “You’ll tame me eventually.”

  She palmed his shoulder. “I hope so.”

  He pulled her closer and rolled onto his back, her head settling on his shoulder. He hoped she had the strength to stay once she found out all there was to know about him. He kissed the top of her head and silently prayed for time.

  * * * * *

  A week of bliss juxtaposed with agony passed. His days were spent waiting for Bryce to wake. Every hour passed and twitches were explained away by nurses as just that, twitches, nothing conscious at all. Max knew the time was coming to ring his mother and return to the life he’d put on hold, but several things stood in his way. Bridget had kept him from derailing and every night he learned more about her and wanted her more with every passing second.

  In his car, parked outside Dungeon, he was surrounded by familiarity, but more and more he felt as if he were living a surreal dream. How could life be beautiful, complicated and tragic all at once? The inevitable had come upon him.

  Swallowing back the apprehension, he exited the car and walked into the building. From the outside, Dungeon’s building looked like any other. The lobby was sophisticated and smart, hiding the dirty deeds behind doors beyond. He nodded at the receptionist and marched toward Vane’s office. Some rooms were shut off as production carried on. He paused before Vane’s door, then knocked. Bidden entry, he stepped inside to find Vane tapping away on his laptop. Vane leaned back in his seat, a brow raised. “Yes?”

  “I’m taking more time off.”

  Vane glowered. “Out of the question.”

  “I wasn’t asking. Bryce needs me.”

  “Bryce is a vegetable.”

  Max stormed toward the desk, fury blazed as he slapped his hands down on the glass surface. “Fuck you.”

  Vane stood, tension radiating off him. “No. Fuck you. That’s what you’re paid for.”

  “Then don’t pay me. I don’t care. I’m gonna spend time with Bryce.”

  Vane scoffed. “And that little piece of ass you’re chasing.”

  “Don’t fucking talk about her.”

  “So there is someone. I knew it. Let me give you a heads-up, you’re not the first person to try and pursue a relationship with someone outside the industry and I’m telling you now, she’s not for you. How many of us do you think tried to make that stuff work? All of us have at one time or another.”

  Max pursed his lips, hating the truth in Vane’s words.

  Vane’s features softened. “I know. But is it worth the pain of having it fall apart?”

  Max rejected the notion, even as his breathing grew shallow. “You don’t know that.”

  Vane spread his arms. “Statistics speak for themselves.”

  “I’m willing to risk it.”

  Vane settled in his seat and rolled a pen through his fingers. “Your funeral. Besides, I have a job lined up for you. Your usual fare.”

  Max’s stomach churned. Time slipped through his fingers and he was forced to face his life again. “What do you mean by usual fare? Last time I checked my contract was amended. I don’t trust what ‘usual fare’ is to you.”

  Vane rolled his eyes. “Are you still sore about that?”

  Was he joking? “Hell yes I am! I have the contract that makes me nothing but a piece of meat. So, yeah, I’m pissed about it.”

  “Let’s put it this way. There isn’t any submission on your part. Gotta give what the crowd demands.”

  Max swallowed back the bile in his throat and stiffened his spine. “I’m not doing anything. Not until I’m ready. And don’t think to pull that shit you did with Dylan’s sister on Bridget.”

  Vane blinked, his shock quickly covered by a mask of confusion. “What are you on about?”

  Max clenched his teeth. “Don’t think I don’t know. I know you sent Dylan’s movies to his sister. You know Dylan was on the verge of leaving after his mom passed and you wanted to control it. Control him. You tried to take away the one thing that he loved. Well it didn’t work. We all got to see what you would do to keep what you have. Why do you think Rube left? She knows what a manipulative bastard you are.”

  Thunder rolled over Vane’s features. “Where is she?”

  “I told you, I don’t know. But I do know you play games. It’s what drove her away.”

  Vane tensed and Max spread his legs, adrenaline pumping as he expected an all-out brawl. Suddenly, Vane expelled air sharply and rolled his shoulders, casting aside his brief anger like dirty laundry. He sat and fingered a piece of paper. “You’ll be here this time next week for the rollout of the next production. Or you’ll find yourself teamed with Demi and followers be damned.”

  Max wanted to leap over the desk and beat the daylights out of him. Instead he turned and stormed away, ignoring the startled looks as he stomped through the building. Once in his car, he took his anger out on the road as he drove toward the hospital. A waft of bleach caught him in the face as he entered the facility and anxiety churned in his stomach. He didn’t realize how one experience had changed his view of something so simple. The squeak of shoes on vinyl and the ding calling for nurse assistance sent prickles along his skin.

  Turning into his friend’s room, he found Bryce much as he’d left him. Dylan sat on a chair nearby, talking to him in earnest. The desperation on his friend’s face said it all. Dylan paused and looked at him, his lips a thin white line.

  Max faltered in the thresh
old. “What?”

  Dylan patted Bryce on the shoulder. “Be back in a minute, buddy.”

  Max’s heart raced, his stomach burning with bile. He allowed Dylan to lead him just beyond the room and stared into his stoically drawn features. “What is it?”

  “He moved his mouth.”

  Max’s gut dropped out. “You’re kidding. What did he say?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Nothing. It was just… I don’t know how to explain it. His mouth did this weird little grimace thing when I asked how he was finding the food here.”

  “Has he done anything since then?”

  “No,” Dylan said on a sigh.

  Hope burned to ash and his shoulder slumped. “It’s nothing. Just a muscle twitch.”

  Dylan frowned. “Are you sure?”

  Max swallowed hard. “Yeah, pretty sure. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Shit.”

  Yeah. Shit.

  Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “You think you might have to make the call?”

  Max knew the call his friend referred to. It was the one he’d been putting off since the whole thing started. Cold sweat popped on his forehead and he nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Look, I’ll leave you with Bryce.”

  Dylan waved his hands. “Oh no, it’s fine.”

  “I’m probably not good company at the moment anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Max grimaced. “Vane wants me back on set in a week.”

  The silence was telling. “And how is Bridget taking it?”

  Max recoiled. “What has she got to do with it?”

  Dylan’s chin tipped as the truth hit him. “You are seeing her, aren’t you?”

  “I know what you think. I’m not going to tell her what I do. Why does it matter so much to you if I tell her anyway? It’s just a job.”

  “If it’s just a job, then why are you hesitating?”

  Max hated Dylan for his logic. He stepped closer, his voice lowered but weighed with frustration. “You think I don’t know the minute she finds out what I do she’ll be out the door? I’m not an idiot and I’m not about to let the best thing to happen to me slip through my fingers.”

  “I know what you’re going through—”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “Why do you think I came back before? Wasn’t it you who said I’d be unhappy doing this? You knew something was up. Well, my lies almost cost me Erica. It’s not worth it.”

  Max recalled that day. Although happy Dylan had returned, he’d sensed a sadness. For whatever reason, he didn’t think Dylan had lost Erica over a small detail. “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

  Dylan exhaled and shook his head.

  Stung by his friend’s reproach, Max glowered. “I’m not you. And Bridget isn’t Erica.” When Dylan opened his mouth, Max spoke. “Save it. I’m done listening.”

  Dylan’s lips pressed together but his nod was stiff and reluctant. “All right.”

  Max glanced over his shoulder into the room. Erica had taken a seat nearby, her hand clasping Bryce’s. His chest constricted.

  Dylan shifted, both their focus now on Bryce. “He seems so peaceful. How long do you think it’ll be before he wakes?”

  Dylan was so absolute about it and Max shrugged. “Who knows? He better wake up soon, ’cause when he does, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Dylan chuckled, but this time it was weighed down by an undercurrent of misery and fear. Maybe Bryce wasn’t going to wake up.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Max looked down at the cell and a frisson of fear ran down his spine at the name on the screen. Vane. His allotted time was almost up. Ignoring the call, he shoved the phone in his pocket. Around him, nurses and visitors walked the hall. The familiar ding as patients called for assistance. He turned down the all-too-familiar hall and drew to a sudden halt. Bridget sat beside Bryce, her features animated and a glimmer of laughter in her eyes, almost as if they shared an inside joke. Almost. His gaze settled on his friend, his eyes closed and unresponsive. A dash of color caught his eye and he recognized a gnome on the bedside. It had black hair complete with three blue streaks in the fringe, just like Bryce. The gesture struck him square in the chest. Swallowing hard, he tried to cough out the tightness in his throat.

  Bridget glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought to bring something for your friend.”

  Max nodded at the gnome. “I see.”

  She stood and picked up the gnome. “I made this today in craft with my friend. We both like gnomes.”

  He accepted the statuette. “You made this?”

  Pink bloomed on her cheeks. “Well, painted it. Gnomes are pretty stock standard unless you make them from scratch. But it’s the paint that gives them flair.”

  Misery swirled in a toxic plume, tightening in his chest as he recalled the reasons for her gnomes. “He’s not dead yet.” The joy faded from her face and Max felt it like a punch. “I’m sorry.”

  Bridget wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. “It’s okay. You’ve been under a lot of pressure.”

  “It’s a really thoughtful gift. Bryce’ll love it.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  Max tightened his hand over hers. “Stay.”

  Her lids lowered in hesitation. “All right.”

  Relief ballooned in his gut and he sighed. He wandered over to the bed, Bridget hovering behind him. Max glanced at her. She’d slipped her hand from his and clasped them together.

  “What were you talking about when I came in?”

  She lifted one shoulder in nonchalance. “Just a story about the time I thought I was a cat.”

  Max huffed a chuckle. “A cat?”

  Bridget mock glowered. “Every child dreams of being something.”

  “Not like that.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the bed. “Please don’t let me stop you on the retelling. I’m intrigued.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m sure you’d relish in discovering my sad little past, but I’d rather not expose myself for ridicule. Bryce is a wonderful listener. No judgment.”

  “I can listen. Anything about your pussycat escapade piques my interest.”

  She held out both hands. “Trust you to make it sound all dirty. Sorry to disappoint, but it’s completely PG rated.”

  A small moan filtered between them and Max frowned, his focus on Bridget’s mouth. “You didn’t just—”

  The moan came again and Max’s skin flushed, his gaze snapping toward Bryce. Joy surged, his rib cage seeming to struggle to hold it all in as he leapt toward the bed. “Bryce? Can you hear me?”

  Eyelids fluttered but remained closed. His heart thundered, adrenaline making his hand shake. He narrowed his focus on Bryce’s face, watching for another sign of consciousness.

  “Get a doctor,” he said without looking at Bridget.

  Her hurried footsteps left the room and Max began talking. He didn’t know what he said, but every word felt like the elixir of life. All hope pinned on every single syllable. Shoes squeaked on vinyl and he glanced up at the doctor, Bridget hovering behind him, her cheeks flushed and eyes glimmering with happy anticipation.

  The doctor approached the bed, his attention focused on Bryce.

  “I heard he’s been making some noise?”

  “Yes. He moaned a couple of times.”

  “Anything else since?”

  “No.”

  The doctor stepped forward and Max eased away. “Good afternoon, Bryce. I’m just going to check something for you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  The man lifted the bottom of the sheet to expose Bryce’s feet. Hand under Bryce’s ankle, the doctor ran a blunt object along the sole. The toes curled and excitement thundered in Max’s chest.

  “That’s a good sign right?”

  The doctor glanced at him. “Yes. Good job, Bryce.”

  H
ope surged and he smiled so hard it hurt his cheeks. He glanced at Bridget, her hands over her mouth, a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “He’s waking up,” he said.

  “Not so quick there.”

  Max cast a querying stare at the doctor. “What?”

  “He’s showing signs of waking up, certainly, but you have to be aware that he’ll slip in and out for a while before he regains a conscious state.”

  “But, he’s going to be all right?”

  The doctor hesitated and Max’s shoulders slumped. “We don’t know the extent of recovery he’ll have until we can fully assess him. Give it time. Everything takes time.”

  Bridget’s warm hand settled over his shoulder, and Max clasped it, taking comfort in her presence. “What happens now?”

  “We’ll have to get an EEG and run some other tests. But he may not come out for a time yet.”

  The following hour was spent watching Bryce go through several tests. He didn’t make a sound the whole time and anxiety drilled through Max’s lungs. His gaze was fixated on every nuance in the attending doctor’s face, hoping to decipher the prognosis.

  Finally, after all the tests were done, Max was assured the signs were all positive. Tension drained away, replaced by the buoyancy of relief and happiness. In half a daze he wandered toward the entrance, anticipating that the next time he walked back into the suite he’d find Bryce sitting up and glad to see him. Fingers brushed his palm and he grasped Bridget’s offered hand. Brisk wind touched his face as they exited the hospital, slapping him back into reality. Bridget leaned into him, her hair brushing his forearm.

  He stopped, pulling her into him, his hands hooking together behind her back. Cool air and her floral scent filled his nostrils. For the first time in a while, he felt at peace. “Where are you parked?” he asked.

  She pulled back to look up at him. “F block.”

  He was a bit farther than her. “Come home with me?”

  She smiled impishly. “I am going home.”

  “You know what I mean,” he whispered against her lips.