Falling Free
By Annica Rossi
COPYRIGHT
Falling Free
By Annica Rossi
Kindle Edition
Copyright © Annica Rossi 2014
Published By Annica Rossi, LLC 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, scanned or
distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author’s permission
with the exception of short quotes used in book reviews.
This is a work of fiction, and any names, characters, places, and incidents 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 publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To the friends, family and readers who motivate me to keep writing every day, THANK YOU! I wouldn’t have made it this far without your encouragement, support and constructive criticism. You’re the f****** best!
Prologue
“We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, this is the problem I want to have. I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way. Let our scars fall in love.” ―Galway Kinnell
CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Prologue
CONTENTS
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
One
SLEEPLESS IN SIN CITY…
“What the hell happened to YOU? Are you sick or something? Shit! Sit down, Parker, you look like you’ve been on a three day bender.”
Shay Roberts was a hundred and fifteen pounds of ice cold bitch economically poured into a finely tailored Vera Wang suit. She dressed provocatively, drawing attention to her long tanned legs that disappeared under a hem so high it left little to the imagination, yet she wore her cool shrewd exterior like a chastity belt. The way she moved in those short tight skirts mesmerized me. She was the type of woman who might secretly have “Like a Boss” tattooed on her ass, and I had no doubt that she could own it along with the soul of any man lucky enough to read it…and it was only a matter of time before I would join the ranks of her conquerors.
But there was one little problem. SHE was also my agent, which apparently classified the act of exchanging carnal pleasure a conflict. Sure, I’d heard the cliché about not mixing business with pleasure many times, but MY business had always been poker, a career where the lines were blurred by the free flow of alcohol, the obscene amounts of cash and the ever powerful and completely irresistible combination of the two. My recently acquired celebrity status, and the formalities that came along with it, belonged to a new and foreign world, one that involved business contracts and other foreboding legal terms- like sexual harassment. She should be strictly off-limits.
That’s what I told myself at least, and that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to explain to my cock since the last time I was in her office. I signed my name ten times on her thirty page contract while trying to mentally tranquilize the raging boner in my boxer briefs. You’re not the only one who thinks it’s strange I remembered those exact numbers, but at the time I was so desperate for a distraction that I started counting everything in sight like some loser trying to talk himself down from a ledge. Yep, ask me anything. There were five blue pens, two black pens and one feathery red one in the crystal container on her desk; five individual pictures in frames and one collage on the shelf behind her, and approximately twenty-nine leaves on the little plant in the corner. Pathetic I know.
But SHE knew exactly what she was doing. SHE was the one causing my temporary OCD as she sat there, on the front of her desk, casually crossing and uncrossing those long sleek legs. She was baiting me, maybe just to see how far I would go, but if I read her signals right she wanted to give me as much as I was willing to take. Yes. Take. I picked up on her tells the first time we met. The more I remained dominant over her, the more she behaved like a bitch in heat. She was like a female praying mantis. She’d offer herself to an unsuspecting male, then try to eat his head off while he mated her. Call me depraved, but I wanted to fuck her into submission more than I cared to admit.
For weeks I’d been fucking her mentally. You see, what most men don’t understand is that women want to be mentally fucked, seduced. It’s true, and I had used my finely honed skills to mentally fuck this bitch into a frenzy. It was like watching a long slow burn turn into an inferno, and I was just moments away from reaping the rewards.
The sparks started when we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye about the terms of my new contract. It seems Rebel Spirits, Inc. wanted to make sure I lived up to my bad boy image. I had no problem delivering, either, I mean, that’s why they signed me in the first place, right? But some of their requirements seemed outrageous. Let’s take page four for starters, “The representative must appear in public with two or more female companions no less than two times per week.” And “public” was tagged with a superscripted number that corresponded to a list of approved locales known to attract plenty of media attention. Really? If I had to play inside the fence, much less keep track of the frequency of my interactions with women in public, I’d rather shoot myself in the dick. And I wasn’t about to back down. Shay seemed to think these were reasonable requests considering the parameters of other well-known contracts in the industry, and we’ve been in a sexually charged deadlock ever since.
Oh, yeah, and I mentioned she’s a lesbian, right? It became obvious at our last business dinner when she brought her partner, Brandy, along. Four martinis later when dessert was served, they were practically sitting in each other’s laps. I enjoyed the show as they took turns seductively feeding each other crème brulee from the same fork. When I dropped them off at their place, my cock was hoping for an invitation to the naked encore. From that moment I knew, Shay was sending me a message, “catch me if you can”, and I was hearing it loud and clear.
Today, I was here to seal the deal on the one-year contract she arranged with American Rebel Spirits. It was also the day I planned to spread her across her desk and fuck that ice queen/dick-tease double personality out of her until she was lapping up my milk like a kitten. How could I be so sure? Well, that was the beautiful part. Like I said, she’d been baiting me, testing the waters if you will, right up to our last meeting, when just before I left, she leaned in and whispered, “Next time make sure you bring condoms.”
That was the green light I’d been waiting for…that is before my trip to Michigan last weeke
nd. Until then I was hell bent on having my way with Shay, and hopefully Brandy, at the same time. But now?
I jumped in my chair as she made a move toward me, holding the contract and pen in her hand. My fingers were literally digging into the cool leather armrests from the sudden surge of anxiety. She noticed. I grabbed the pen and signed wildly, careful to keep my eyes from straying from the paper. When I was done I handed the contract back, making sure our hands didn’t touch in the process, and what she did next almost sent me over the edge.
A wickedly seductive smile spread over her lips. Then her tongue swirled over them lightly like a cat that had cornered her prey, and she laughed softly. “I wasn’t expecting to do it here, naughty boy”, she whispered, “Although if you brought the condoms I might reconsider.”
I shook my head slowly from side to side as her eyes evaluated me from head to toe.
“Okay then, she quickly relented, “I promised Brandy I’d share anyway, so why don’t you and the condoms come to our place tonight at seven?”
It wasn’t meant to be a question, and it’s a good thing, too, because I was in no shape to answer. Being the M in the middle of a genuine FF arrangement was one of the few fantasies left unfulfilled on my sexual bucket list. (Yeah, I have a sexual bucket list. Doesn’t everybody?) Just the thought of this dream coming true should’ve sent me into a testosterone induced, laser focused, predatory state-of-mind, but instead, all I could do was blink at her like a teenager who just got busted in the bathroom with a stack of porno mags and an uncapped jar of Vaseline. What the hell happened to my swagger, and when exactly did my balls take up residence in Lauren St John’s purse?
That’s right. I didn’t really know it yet, but this was the end of an era. The girl had fucking ruined me, and she had no clue that she single-handedly took down a legend. Why? Because she was too busy being indignant in spite of the fact that her whole fucking world was on the brink of caving in.
I must be delirious from the lack of sleep lately. I’ve had insomnia since trying to adjust to the time difference in Michigan, and pure exhaustion combined with the slow realization that I’d been effectively neutered, at least mentally anyway, was hampering my normally overactive sex drive, OR…Who was I trying to fool? Karma may have finally caught up with me, and just like the saying goes, she really WAS a bitch.
When Shay took a call, I seized my chance to escape. From the safety of the lobby, I sent her a text.
Me: Hey, thanks for the invite, but I have a guest coming into town tonight. Rain check?
Her reply was quick and straight to the point.
Shay: Perfect! Bring him? Her?
The woman was a sexual predator, focused, determined and not willing to take no for an answer. I guess I’d finally met the female version of myself. Just a few days ago that was one hell of a turn-on. But now? Now the only woman on my mind was thousands of miles away and probably not thinking about me.
That’s when it happened. The agonizing wait was over. My phone rang, and I was suddenly sixteen again, sitting in the locker room after tryouts waiting to see if I made the football team. My palms were sweaty, and I felt like the rest of my life depended on the answer I was about to receive.
“Mr. Blackwell? This is Susan from Barry Stanton’s office. Alex, our associate from the Las Vegas office, will be delivering Ms. St. John to your penthouse around seven o’clock.”
It was the answer I’d been waiting for. She took the offer. Lo was on her way to Vegas.
I couldn’t wipe the sappy smile off my face as I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. This was a new kind of high, the feeling like starting today anything’s possible. Hell, just feeling at all had me off-balance. I hadn’t slept in two nights, which is the exact amount of time since I felt her skin on mine, and explored her body in ways I only dreamed of since the time I was seventeen. Every second that ticked by all I could think about was how to get her back in my arms again for good. She was everything I never thought I could have and everything I was afraid to admit I wanted. Everything that could make me whole and give me purpose. MY everything. I was willing to do whatever it took to help her hold on to The Grand, and hopefully bring her closer to me in the process. Even if it was against her will.
That may sound sick, I know. Believe me, it’s not exactly what I had planned. My ego lead me to believe that once she saw me again she’d fall madly in love, accept my help and come to Vegas on her own free will. But playing the damsel in distress never was her style, and I knew I had to think fast before her stubborn pride caused us both to lose everything.
Then there was Jake Kennedy. Just hearing his name felt like a direct punch to the gut. She was engaged to him, because I abandoned her. I left her alone when she needed me most and might as well have held the door wide open for him to ride in and save the day. How could I have been so fucking stupid? Yeah, I was young. Marriage or even commitment for that matter wasn’t even a blip on the radar, but even then I knew how special she was. I shouldn’t have turned my back on her. Never again.
Now the only thing I could do was find out if this Jake Kennedy really loved her, if he really knew her like I did. If he proved he did then no matter how hard it would be I would step down, take myself out of the race and accept that he was the man for her even if everything inside me wanted to fight for her instead. She deserved the best, and I had fallen short once already. If he didn’t then he would win.
The waiting was hell. The ball was already in play, and now it was his move. Yeah, part of me felt guilty, but come on! It’s not like I was setting the guy up to go to prison or something, although I can’t say the thought never crossed my mind. I may be desperate, but I’m not that cold hearted. So I made a few calls. I hired a private investigator to check him out. Something about him didn’t feel quite right. Maybe it was my own jealousy, but my gut told me it was something more. After that I sent a few job offers his way. He didn’t have to take them. Nobody was holding a gun to his head, and either way he stood to gain something. When this was said and done he would either keep the girl of my dreams or start a career that would change his life forever. It was his call.
My biggest concern was Lauren, and the only thing that mattered now was in a few short hours she would be right here with me. I would have the next five days to convince her that I loved her and to make her realize she was in love with me. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. She might spend the first three mad as hell over me forcing her into this arrangement. Laughing and shaking my head at the thought, I knew I couldn’t let my nerves get the best of me. I had to stay focused and draw on the inner strength that helped me win countless tournaments. But inside, the thought that I was about to play for the highest stakes of my life, worth far more than the millions piled high on the tournament tables, had me more scared to death.
Two
WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS
The flight was uneventful. No problems or delays, but I was grateful to be back on solid ground. Inside the airport I spotted Barry’s assistant right away. She was tall, blonde and wore a black suit that revealed more cleavage than most offices would allow. When I saw she was holding a sign with my name it caught me off guard at first, and I did a double take, wondering if it was really meant for me. As soon as our eyes met she walked over with a smile and extended an impeccably manicured hand.
“You must be Lauren. I’m Alex.”
“Hi, Alex. Nice to meet you.”
“Welcome to Las Vegas. We’ll have to be quick. We have lots to do and not much time.”
“Oh, what about my bags?” She didn’t waste any time picking up the pace, and I followed after her quickly.
“Don’t worry. I’ve sent someone to pick them up,” she called back to me. I followed the sound of her clicking heels across the lobby and directly to a sleek black limo parked along the curb. As we approached the driver got out and held the door. Barry wasn’t kidding. This was first class.
“Okay, let’s go over the agenda,” Alex examined me as we
pulled into the steady stream of traffic. In five seconds flat she had taken a complete inventory. “Your hair looks great actually, maybe a little trim. You’re getting a mani and pedi. Have you ever had a Brazilian?”
“Ah, no,” was all I could manage.
“After the salon we’ll go see Nancy at the Bellagio. I’m picturing you in Armani.” She ran a strand of my hair through her fingers and smiled. “Mr. Blackwell will be very pleased when he lays eyes on you.”
My evaluation seemingly finished, I turned and looked out the window. The scene was incredible. The strip looked so vivid, so glamorous. It was everything I’d imagined times one hundred, I thought, sure that my jaw was hanging open. Alex seemed amused.
“So, Barry said you’re from Michigan? Have you ever been to Vegas?”
“No. I’ve never been out of state before.” I could feel my face blush with embarrassment.
Alex smiled mischievously, “You know the saying, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? You’ll see, Lauren. You’re about to have the time of your life.”
For the next few hours I felt like a pampered star in a block-buster movie. A team of people fussed over every inch of me, starting with a facial, a massage and several other spa treatments that I’d never even heard of before. At first I felt completely naked and exposed in nothing but a white robe tied loosely around my waist. The procedures were intimate, especially the Brazilian, but everyone was kind and friendly. Although their fingers seemed to invade every part of my body, they did it with a professionalism that made it easy to endure. When I looked in the mirror my skin had never glowed so brightly. My make-up was a little more dramatic than usual, but absolutely stunning, and my hair fell around my breasts in curtains of smooth raw silk. I couldn’t help but stare at my reflection in the limo window as we drove to the Bellagio for my new wardrobe. I barely recognized myself.
Falling Free: What happens in Vegas... (The Fall Series) Page 1
