Distorted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 2)

by Wilde, Breena

  That’s the only reason I’ve survived as long as I have.

  Until fucking John Cruze.

  “You know when Fileze gets better he gonna to come after you?” Megan says, pulling little Nikki’s hair and making her cry harder. “Yeah, I heard from Amberlee, who heard from Saundra, who heard from Jimmy Stix that Fileze is already planning ways to kill you.”

  “Ugh, special,” I say, feeling a headache coming on.

  “Oh, it is. I have a couple of suggestions as well. Hope I’ll get to share.” Megan pushes my shoulder and I fall back onto the concrete floor.

  I stand quickly. “Don’t fuck with me, Megan. I’m not in the mood.” I walk to the door and shake the bars. “I want my one phone call.”

  Detective Small Prick walks over and unlocks the cell door. He lets me out and walks me down a hall, up some stairs, and through several electronic doors to an office with a phone on the edge of the desk.

  He pushes me into a hard wooden chair. “Don’t try anything, bitch.”

  I dial Jessica’s cell phone number.

  The detective is watching me. He sits down next to me and strokes my knee.

  I try to ignore him. The room is small, quaint. White walls. Empty. A computer sits at one end of the desk. Papers and folders are scattered around. There’s a box of half eaten donuts and a half empty cup filled with coffee near the phone.

  Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, I think. My silent pleas go unanswered. I get Jessica’s voice mail.

  “Shit.” I hang up.

  The detective leans in and whispers in my ear. “Maybe you can work off your bail money.” He peeks around the room and then continues, “There’s an interrogation room over there. It’s available.” His hand moves up my thigh. “We can slip in, slip out. No one will know. In a few days I’ll set you free.”

  I shake my head and try to keep calm, but I’m freaking out. I’m so fucking sick of men thinking they can do whatever they want to me. What the fuck has happened to my life? I’ve got no one to call and no money.

  How did I ever think I could be anything but what I am? It’s all I know.

  And I’d be okay with that if I hadn’t had that one night with John and then the next several nights with Zane. For different reasons they both ruined me.

  The detective grabs my breast and I quickly dial a number—his number. The number I memorized even though I swore I’d never use it.

  “Hello, sweet Cadence. This is a surprise.”

  “Um, yes. Hello Zane. It seems I’m in a bit of a jam.”

  “A jam, huh? What’s going on?”

  I can’t help but sigh. “I’m in jail and I-I…” I bite back a sob. Asking him this is going to make be beholden to him. “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “I’ll have you out of there in ten minutes.”

  I bite my lip, trying to hold back any kind of emotion. “Thank you, Zane.” I set the receiver in its cradle and stand.

  “I’ll be out in ten minutes,” I tell the detective.

  He bursts out laughing. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  I lift my chin, but don’t say anything.

  The detective leads me by the elbow back to the smelly jail cell.

  And I wait.

  For fucking Zane.

  Chapter 7

  I step into the limousine and slide in next to Zane. He’s dressed in a crisp navy suit, the top two buttons on his light blue shirt are undone, and he has a foot balanced on his knee. He’s drinking something amber. He sees me eyeing it. “Want one, sweet Cadence?”

  I’m about to say no and then change my mind. Whatever Zane is going to offer as payback for him bailing me out of jail is going to require some liquid courage. “Sure. That’d be great.”

  He puts some ice in a crystal tumbler and fills it. “Here,” he says and hands it to me.

  I inhale and am taken aback by the sharp smell. It’s bourbon. I sip, swallow, and momentarily close my eyes. I haven’t had an alcoholic drink in three years. All the sensations flood me at once. I’ve missed it.

  “Good, right?” Zane asks with a smile. His straight white teeth flash encouragement.

  “Mmmmm,” I respond and chug the rest down. When the glass is empty, I set it on the armrest. “I appreciate you bailing me out. How are we going to handle repayment?” I ask, getting to the point.

  He swallows the rest of his drink and sets it next to mine. “Sweetheart, I like the way you think.”

  I don’t respond, unsure if I can handle another night on the wooden contraption. “Can I have another drink?” I ask hopefully.

  “Of course.” He fills my glass. “Drink up.”

  I do and don’t look at him again until the glass is empty. Warmth fills my belly and I lean back, finally feeling relaxed.

  “Lay it on me, Zane. What do you want?”

  A look of frustration crosses his handsome face. After a moment, he smiles, leans back against the leather seat. “What are your dreams, Cadence?” he asks thoughtfully.

  I think about laughing. Los Angeles, also known as the City of Angels, is a place where hundreds come every day hoping their dreams will come true. For most the city brings nothing but heartache and sorrow. It’s only a select few, like John Cruze, who get what they want, who get to have all of their dreams come true.

  A long time ago I decided dreams were fucking stupid. Then I thought about college. That’s been my dream for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why. It isn’t as though I think I’ll get a degree and suddenly life will be better. But I guess it’s the idea of becoming a college graduate. Knowing I studied something and that the college deemed me worthy to hold a degree. I feel, deep in my soul, that getting a college degree will mean I’m not a loser. That I’m not like my parents.

  Which I guess is the crux of most of my decisions. I don’t want to end up so strung out on drugs that my only option is suicide, like my father. Or so fucked in the head that I think selling drugs is a career choice.

  Not that hooking is any better, I tell myself. It’s still illegal. The last few hours in jail are evidence of that. As hard as I try I’ll probably end up just like them.

  “Cadence,” Zane asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  “I want to go to college,” I utter, holding out my glass for another refill.

  He fills my glass for the third time. “Really? And what do you want to study?” The features on his face say he’s interested. I’m surprised.

  “Business. I’ve got a head for numbers,” I say, though my words are slightly slurred.

  Zane chuckles. “That doesn’t surprise me. You seem very smart.”

  I cock my head and smirk. “You’ve fucked me every which way. But that’s it. We fucked. How would you have any idea if I’m smart or not?”

  He taps on the glass near the driver’s head and the partition rises. Then Zane pulls me to my knees in front of him. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you. It’s beautiful and luscious, but sometimes things come from it that no one wants to hear.” He presses my cheeks so that my mouth opens. Then he leans down and sticks his tongue in my mouth, kissing me thoroughly.

  I can’t help but respond. Five days we spent fucking. My body knows it and is excited by the prospect of doing it again. I run my hands through his hair. He yanks on mine, pulling me back.

  “Did you read the paperwork you signed?” he asks, a little breathless. I notice he’s hard. His cock wants me as much as my body wants his.

  “Not really. Just that you didn’t want me to tell anyone anything about you, about what we did or where we were.” I reach a hand out to grab his cock, but he pushes my hand away. A little pouty, I sit on my heels. “Was there more?”

  He grabs my hair and yanks my head back. “Weren’t you curious about me? Didn’t you look me up?” He seems a little disappointed.

  I snort. “I really haven’t had a lot of time. I’ve been busy.”

  Zane leans down, takes my lower lip between his, and suckles, then lightly bites. I cry out
and he puts his hands on my breasts, teasing my nipples with his thumbs. My body moves closer, but Zane pulls away.

  “I’m a conglomerate, Cadence. I own several companies all around the world. The one I enjoy the most is Jaguar Pixel Studios. Have you heard of it?”

  My mouth falls open. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. It’s one of the biggest movie studios in the country. You own that?” I lean up on my knees, placing my hands on his thighs.

  “Yes, I own that,” he says, pulling me close so that I can taste his breath in my mouth.

  I swallow.

  “The studio is about to start a new film. Production begins tomorrow. I need an assistant as well as someone I can take with me to meetings and parties. I need someone professional, a woman who doesn’t care if I’m giving her enough attention.” He taps the tip of my nose. “I need you. I want you.”

  I blink, trying to understand what Zane is saying.

  “For the next six months you’ll be my Personal Fucking Assistant. You’ll do what I say when I say it and in return I’ll teach you the business end of filmmaking and make sure your college education is paid for.”

  I’m in shock. “You want me to assist you at your production company by doing what? Filing papers?”

  “That’s some of it,” he says.

  “Then fuck you when you want.”

  “Absolutely. And how I want, too. As you know my tastes are unique and ever changing.” He winks. Takes a sip of his drink.

  “On top of filing and fucking, you want me to go to parties?” I climb back into my seat and take a sip from my glass.

  “I’ll make sure you have the appropriate clothing and so on.” There’s a smirk on his face. He’s handsome, cocky, and a seriously kinky asshole, but for some reason I’m developing a fondness for him.

  “And if I do all that you’ll teach me about your business and pay for my college?” It seems like there has to be a catch somewhere.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asks, taking the glass from my hands.

  “Sure, Zane. I’ll be the best PFA you’ve ever had.” I smile. It’s a bit wobbly. I’m more than wobbly.

  He bursts out laughing. “I’ll put that on your nameplate. The meaning will be our little secret.”

  I laugh with him.

  “Let’s get started, my sweet PFA. Come suck my cock with that sassy little mouth of yours.”

  I sidle over, unzip his pants, and grab his hardened dick. While I’m watching his face, I wrap my lips around him, using my teeth to massage the end. He throws his head back and groans.

  “Cadence, you’re a fucking dream with a dick.”

  I smile and move my hand and my mouth up and down around his shaft until he comes.

  Chapter 8

  Zane lets me call Jessica.

  I’m about to hang up when she answers. “Where the fuck are you?” she asks, her voice frantic.

  “I’m staying at the Bel Ayre with a client. And,” I pause because I know she’s going to freak out. “I won’t be around for a while.”

  “Are you lying? Are you still in jail and just don’t want to tell me because I can’t afford to bail you out? Because if that’s the case I swear I’ll find a way.” Her words make me misty-eyed.

  “No. No. I was bailed out. Everything is fine. I really do have a client and I’ll be staying with him for a while.” I fall against the lush white couch in the hotel room and close my eyes. I feel bad, but the truth is I’ll probably never see her again. I have no intention of ever going back to my apartment or that neighborhood, if I can help it.

  That life isn’t mine anymore. I don’t want it.

  “Holy fucking shit. Is it John Cruze?” Jessica asks.

  At his name I flinch. “No. You don’t know this client and he wants to keep it that way. Don’t worry though. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” She pauses and I think I know what she’s going to ask. “About rent?” she starts.

  “The rest of my money is in my pillowcase. There’s also some in the coffee can above the refrigerator. That’s all I’ve got. So use it for rent. Promise me, Jessica.” My buzz is starting to wear off and I’m getting a headache. “Jessica, please.”

  “I will. Don’t have a hissy.”

  I sigh. “Good. Be safe and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Alright. You be safe. Remember the rules.”

  I remember them, but Zane won’t have it. Over the past week every fucking one of my rules have been broken. Every. Fucking. One. It annoys me, especially since I have no say in what’s happening.

  “I will,” I say and hang up.

  When I set down the phone I open my eyes. Zane is there.

  “How about a shower?”

  “Sure,” I respond with a smile. He really is a clean freak. When he turns on the water I have a moment of indecision. We’re on the same floor, in the same hotel as I was with John Cruze. The fact that there are two rooms on this floor, a man named John occupies each, and I’ve fucked them both… It blows my mind. It’s crazy and just the kind of fucked up that is my life.

  John Cruze is probably in the other room now, doing something, working out or practicing his lines for his newest film.

  “Having second thoughts?” he asks, pulling off my top.

  A part of me wants to say yes and run to the other room, to the other John, the one who made me feel something—but I can’t. I’m a hooker and he’s a movie star. It would never work.

  “No, Zane. I really appreciate your offer. I promise I’ll be the best PFA on the planet.”

  Zane smiles and pinches my nipples. “You better be.” He takes my breasts in his hands. “The perfect size,” he says, bending and licking each one. Then he takes one nipple between his teeth.

  My pussy gets moist and I moan.

  “And just to be clear.” Zane pauses, his face so close our noses touch. He sticks out his tongue and licks my lip. “The confidentiality agreement you signed yesterday still applies. When we’re at work, I’m your boss.” He runs a hand down my stomach to the sensitive place between my thighs. His thumb teases my clit.

  “Got it,” I say, biting my lip.

  He slides a finger inside my pussy. I move my hips so his finger goes deeper. There’s no explaining why my body is so in tune to his touch, but it is. I am. And I don’t want him to stop.

  “Holy fuck, Zane,” I whisper, tugging on his shoulders.

  He smiles, trailing kisses down my stomach. “Nothing more,” he says between kisses. He sticks another finger inside me. “It’s Mr. Zane, never Zane. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Zane,” I say, rocking against his fingers.

  He pinches another nipple. “That makes me hot, the way you move, how wet you always are. You like the way I tease your body. You want it? You want to come on my fingers, sweet Cadence?”

  I nod.

  Zane removes his fingers and pushes me into the shower. I was so close to orgasm and I miss his fingers.

  Fuck, I forgot to speak, I think, disappointed in myself.

  He picks up some body wash and lathers my body, washing my pussy. There’s douche sitting on the bench. He opens it and I use it.

  “Have you fucked anyone without a condom since our last encounter?”

  “No,” I say, and he smiles.

  “Good. I love that you care about that sort of thing. You’d be surprised how many don’t.”

  I want to point out the obvious. He doesn’t use protection, but I resist saying anything.

  Zane turns me away from him and bends me over. I place my hands on the bench. The water slaps against my ass. He spreads my pussy. “You’re perfect, every ounce of you,” he says and slides his hardened dick into me. I move with him, rocking my body into his hips. “Say my name,” he says, grabbing my ass.

  “Zane. Ah, Zane. Fuck my pussy.”

  He slaps my ass again and again until it stings, then he grabs my hips and fucks me harder so the tip of his dick is slamming against my womb. It feels amazing. The tension builds a
nd builds and we orgasm together. I scream out.

  “Shit, that felt incredible.” He slides out. “You know how to fuck, sweetie.”

  “So do you,” I say and face him. He lays a kiss on each cheek.

  “I know.”

  We clean up and he wraps me in a towel. At the sink I see there are two hairbrushes. “I had some necessities picked up for you. Hopefully they’re to your liking.”

  I notice two toothbrushes, two tubes of toothpaste. Two sets of floss. On my side there’s some mousse, a flat iron, and a blow dryer.

  “You knew I’d say yes.” I’m surprised. How did he know? Unless the arrest was orchestrated. Had he used that cop to arrest me?

  No, that’s impossible. No one has that much power, I think, but don’t believe it. He’s even purchased makeup and perfume. I pick up a bottle and turn to him, a question on my face.

  He takes the bottle and sprays some on my chest. Inhales. Nods. “I wasn’t sure what smell might work best on your skin, so I bought several.”

  “This is a lot,” I say, picking up the brush and running it through my wet hair.

  “There’s more.” He leads me into the closet and I see clothes—dress pants, skirts, dresses, silk blouses, and shoes. He pulls open the drawers. There are underthings inside. They are pretty and lacy. “This is all part of your PFA job description. You need to look like you belong.” He hands me a pink silk nightie. “Get some sleep. The alarm goes off at six in the morning. It’s time you see how the daylight people live.”

  I laugh, too stunned to say anything. It seems like a lot. Too much. I pull the nightie over my head and walk to the bedroom.

  Zane is watching me.

  “Do you want me to sleep in the bed or somewhere else?”

  He walks to the bedroom door. “You can sleep in here. When I’m tired I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Then he closes the door.

  “Holy fuck, this is weird,” I whisper out loud. I turn off the light and climb into bed. Everything, from the pillows to the sheets, feels like I’m floating on a cloud. I close my eyes and am asleep before I have a chance to process anything.