by Breena Wilde
Crossed Lines
Blurred Lines Vol. 3
Breena Wilde
www.breenawilde.blogspot.com
Blurred Lines ~ Crossed Lines
Copyright © Breena Wilde
Breena Wilde Books
ASIN: B00E6ZAHZ8
Digital Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by: Steven Novak kat www.novakillustration.com
Design copyright @2013 Breena Wilde
Interior design by: Breena Widle Books
Crossed Lines
Blurred Lines Vol. 3
Cadence is working for one John and developing feelings for the other.
Her dilemma is annoying and impossible. It’s also delicious and satisfying, sexually and intellectually.
Both Johns are interesting and are teaching her things she never knew.
Still, her heart craves one man and her body can’t get enough of the other.
Which will she choose? Can she? Should she?
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Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
After my run in with John Cruze, the “hottest man on the planet,” the remainder of the day is a cakewalk. Zane has me file some paperwork, print up some last minute changes to the script, and sit in on a couple of meetings.
I learn a lot. Mainly that Zane likes to be in control no matter the circumstance—whether it’s in the boardroom or the bedroom.
More than once his eyes slide to me. They are filled with promised seduction. The look makes my thighs quiver.
When the final meeting of the day is over, Zane saunters over to my spot at the large oblong table. He sits on the edge. I cross my legs, urging the pounding desire in my pussy to calm the fuck down.
He smiles knowingly. “I am having dinner tonight with the director and the lead actress, Scarlett Peterson. Have you heard of her?”
I begin to nod, but change my mind when Zane lets out a low growl. “Of course I have. She’s everywhere.”
“That she is, and we’re lucky to have her participating on the project, but she needs some coaxing on a couple of scenes. It’s in her contract that she won’t do raunchy sex scenes.” Zane shakes his head as though he’s amused. “The sex must be tasteful.” His fingers brush against my breast and my nipple perks at his touch. “I think we can agree that raunchy is soooo much better than tasteful.” He leans down so his jaw touches mine and whispers in my ear. “Tonight we’re gonna fuck in the raunchiest way possible. You’re going to scream my name when you come, and beg me for more.” His teeth bite down on my earlobe.
I gasp. “Yes, Mr. Zane.” I squeeze my thighs more tightly together.
He stands. “I’d like you to join us. Scarlett is a great actress, but she’s kind of a bitch. I’m hoping with you there she’ll be on her best behavior.”
At the idea of eating with him, the director, and a famous actress, my hearts starts to pound, not in excitement, but fear. I’m not a people person. I’d rather soak my hands in fucking battery acid than spend any amount of time trying to make small talk with people I don’t know, let alone people who have serious narcissistic tendencies.
I mean, what would I say? How many times can I tell the director I think his last film was awesome? How many ways can I tell an actress she’s beautiful and talented? And Zane? Holy fuck. What would I say to him during dinner? What if the others ask how we met? Or where I live? Or where else I’ve worked? The whole situation sounds like the Titanic ready to sink, and I want no part of it. None. Zip. Zero.
“Oh, really? I mean—” I start.
He cuts me off, putting a finger over my mouth. “God, you’re adorable. Most women in this city would do anything to spend time with a director, a producer, and a famous actress. They would consider a meeting like this the chance of a lifetime, an opportunity to make their career.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to be an actress,” I say. It’s funny though, because ninety-nine percent of the time my job as a hooker requires I act.
Zane’s expression turns fierce. He stands. “Come with me, PFA. I think a little pre-dinner raunch is in order.”
I smile nervously. An orgasm would relax me. At the thought, I’m immediately wet. “Yes, Mr. Zane.”
As soon as I close the door to his office, he forces me against it. His hot mouth suckles my neck. His hands roam my body, teasing my nipples over my silk shirt. They make their way down my thighs and he pushes up my skirt.
My hands skim his toned shoulders, his arms, his chest. I unbutton his pants and reach inside. His cock is already hard.
“God, Cadence. I want inside your pussy.” Zane grabs one of my legs and drapes it over the crook of his arm so my pussy is open to him. He sinks into me and sighs.
“How did I know you’d be wet? Fuck. You’re incredible.” He pulls out slowly, his thick dick rubbing against my walls, building the tension that’s been suppressed all day.
I moan. My fingers find their way under his shirt. I rake my nails across his lower back and his muscled ass and grab onto his shoulders.
He’s watching his cock part my folds and enter my juicy wetness.
“You feel so good. Fuck my pussy, Zane. Fuck me hard.”
He does as I ask, slamming into me with a ferocity I haven’t seen from him before, almost as though he’s desperate for orgasm.
It’s my job to give him what he needs. I tilt my hips and squeeze his dick with my pussy as he moves in and out. “Zane. Shit. My pussy is so wet, so hot for you. Fuck me. Fuck me.” The tension is building and I’m right on the edge.
He slows and then stops.
I check his expression, curious about what he’s got in mind.
“I want to come in your ass, pretty PFA.”
He pulls out. His cock is slick. It stands at attention. He sees me checking him out and smirks, then grabs me by the neck and kisses me, sinking his tongue in my mouth.
It’s intense, hot.
He pulls back and turns me so I’m facing his desk. There are papers in neat stacks all over and I momentarily worry about making a mess.
Zane pushes me onto them.
I reach my hands above my head and grab the edge of the desk, preparing myself.
He wipes his wet dick over my asshole and then slowly slides inside. It’s pain and pleasure all at once.
He moves slowly, rubbing my clit with his fingers, making my body tense in pleasure. I sink back on him, breathing, accepting his fullness.
When he’s all the way in, he grabs my hips and moves me, then slides two fingers into my pussy. Pulls them out and wipes the juices around his erection.
“You ready, PFA? You ready for me?”
I nod, biting my bottom lip. He’s f
ucking enormous.
Zane slaps my left ass cheek and slams into me.
“Fuck. Yes, Zane.”
“Better,” he says, pulling out, slapping my right cheek, and slamming back into me.
He spanks me several times, always in rhythm with his fucking, always massaging my clit.
“You’re going to be my good little PFA, aren’t you?”
I moan, my body and mind lost in the numbing pleasure.
He spanks me harder. “You’d better say something, Cadence.”
“Yes, God, yes. I’ll be good,” I whisper.
He moves faster. The spanking stops and he grabs my hips, burying his cock deep inside. He grabs my hips and slams my ass into him, burying deep inside. Delicious heat continues to build and I’m about to fall over the precipice when he stops again.
Pulls out and turns me so I’m lying on the desk, facing him.
“I want to see your beautiful eyes. I need to see your face. I want to know you’re getting off.” He slips his dick back into my ass. “Rub your clit and fuck your pussy with your fingers, Cadence.”
I do as he commands.
His face turns darker. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He glides in and out, fucking like a champion. His eyes never leave mine, and the tension builds quickly.
“God, Zane. I’m going to come.” I do, the orgasm racking my body over and over.
He rocks into me several more times. “You’re mine, Cadence,” he says as he comes.
His eyes close. His face is tipped toward the ceiling. I can’t tell if he even knows what he’s saying. But I’m no one’s. Not now. Maybe not ever.
His eyes find mine and he smirks. “That’s the best kind of raunch, wouldn’t you say?”
I’m still trembling from my orgasm, from the way he makes my body feel and respond. Fucking is pleasure and pain, just like life, I think.
Zane is watching, waiting for a response.
I clear my throat. “Fuck yeah,” I crack out. My voice is hoarse.
He smiles and puts out his hand. I grab hold and he helps me stand.
“Even your ass is beautiful,” he says, watching me.
“Thank you, Zane,” I respond, unsure what he wants from me.
“I mean it.” He lifts my chin. We make eye contact. “You have nothing to worry about. Scarlett is a wilted flower compared to your charm and beauty.”
I think about snorting, but his solemn expression stops me. The motherfucker is serious.
“Thanks,” I say again, and I mean it this time. Every once in a while he throws in something so off the wall, so random, that it truly surprises me. Zane is twisted, but he also has a sweet streak. It’s startling and unexpected, and I’m grateful. It would be awful if he were a total prick.
“You’re welcome.” He cleans himself up and zips his pants. “Lincoln will drive you back to the hotel. Change into something black. Be ready by seven and Lincoln will be out front ready to drive you to the restaurant. Okay?”
“I’ll be ready.”
He taps me on the nose. “Good.”
Chapter 2
I ride the elevator up to the thirteenth floor, lost in thought. There’s a bellman again, someone new. After I tell him which floor he ignores me, and I’m fine with that.
When the bell dings and the elevator door slides open, I step out. My gaze lands on John Cruze’s room and all that could have been.
Holding in a sigh, I turn toward Zane’s room, but John Cruze’s door opens and he steps out in all of his totally gorgeous glory.
As soon as he sees me his face lights up.
“Hey Cadence.” John raises a hand in a wave.
I freeze, undecided about what to do. Finally, I respond. “Hey…” Several words run through my mind at the same time: his actual name—John. Hottie. Sexy. I end up sounding like a total idiot. “Jottie,” I finish, and my face burns.
He chuckles. “Jottie, huh?”
I shake my head and laugh. “John.” The name rolls off my tongue like liquid and I wonder why the fuck that couldn’t have been what I said in the first place.
The bellman steps from the elevator. “You going down, sir?” He gives me a once over and sniffs, like he’s better than me. I turn away.
“Not now. Thanks, Steve.”
The elevator door shuts, leaving John and me alone. That makes me a little nervous.
“So, John Zane, huh?” John says, going right for the metaphorical elephant in the room.
“Yeah,” I respond.
He suddenly looks uncomfortable and I wonder if he’s embarrassed to be talking to me. Maybe he was just being nice the other night, trying to make sure the tabloids couldn’t report anything negative on him.
“Did you and your publicist work everything out?”
He seems surprised that I remember. “We did. Like I said, it’s just how we are. Nothing to worry about.”
I nod. “And your reputation? Is it beyond fixable?” I think about all the tabloids and wonder if I’m in any of them, if they got a shot of John and me together.
He lets out a huge laugh. “Yeah, that wasn’t fixable a long time before I met you.”
“Ah. So no permanent damage?” I know I’m stalling, but I’m not sure what to say about Mr. Zane.
“No.” John steps closer. He even smells gorgeous, like sandalwood and exotic spices.
“Well,” I begin, unsure what to say next.
“How did you and John Zane meet?” John gives me a strange look, and I get the feeling he probably already knows. He takes another step toward me. Our bodies are only inches apart.
“Remember the other night? You and me?” I clear my throat.
He nods and I watch several emotions run over his face. Then it dawns on him. “Were you supposed to meet him instead of me?”
“Yes,” I say quietly, afraid to say more.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers, taking one of my hands in his.
I can’t help but notice how warm and firm it is. I know I should pull away, but my fingers refuse to listen to reason.
“Yeah,” is all I can say.
“So?” He lets the simple word hang between us. One syllable, but it says a whole lot. Like, this is fucking weird. Where do we go from here? Should we even be speaking to each other? And when can we fuck again? The last one is totally me, but I want him to be thinking it, too. So, so badly.
“Mr. Zane and I have a business arrangement,” I respond. My hand finally listens to my brain and I pull away. “A six month arrangement,” I continue, hoping I’m being clear without breaking the contract I signed with Mr. Zane.
“I see,” John says, and steps back. “Why are you at the office, then?” His features darken and he runs a hand through his short hair.
“You mean, why am I not holed up in his hotel like you wanted me to be?” Anger flares before I can stop it. I hadn’t meant to say that. Fuck, I don’t even know where the fury came from.
“No. No. Of course not.” John shakes his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He wraps his hands around my waist and yanks me against him. “I asked you to stay. You turned me down.” His teeth are clenched, his jaw working like he wants to say more but can’t.
I press myself into him. I can’t help myself. And I also can’t explain that I have feelings for him and none for Mr. Zane, which makes Zane the safer client.
Instead I say, “It’s more than fucking. He’s teaching me about the business end of filmmaking. He’s going to help me go to college.”
John leans down and I think he’s going to kiss me. God, I want him to kiss me. I want his lips on mine. I want them everywhere. And I know he’s feeling something too, the electricity. It’s obvious by the hardness pressing against my lower belly. Thoughts of us fucking run through my mind and I get wet.
“You can’t trust John Zane.” He pushes me away and turns back toward his room. I have a feeling he has some needs to handle and I want to help him.
“John,” I whisper.
He looks back.
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A genuine smile lifts his lips. “We’re going to fuck again. I promise you that. But,” he stops and walks back to where I’m standing. “We’re going to be friends first.” He places a kiss on my forehead, smiles, and walks back to his room.
Chapter 3
After a quick shower I wrap myself in a giant, luxurious towel and go to the closet. There are several black dresses, but I choose one that hugs my body like a satin glove. The sleeves are capped and made from black lace. Along with the dress I choose a pair of black thigh highs and four inch black heels.
I keep my makeup simple, smoky eyes and red lips. Against my pale skin the effect is dramatic. I scrunch my hair while it’s still wet to give it a natural curl and then blow it dry while using a round brush. When it’s done, I apply some liquid silk to the ends. It looks flirty and whimsical, but not too overdone.
Pretty, I think as I make my way to the elevator.
Steve, the bellhop, seems to approve as well. I catch him checking me out more than once. “I love your shoes,” he finally says, and I sense it’s difficult for him to pay me a compliment. It makes me wonder what him and the rest of the hotel staff must think of me. But I scold myself. It doesn’t fucking matter what they think.
“Thanks,” I reply, rewarding him with a small smile.
He shakes his head. “Wasted,” he whispers.
And I get a little pissed. “What’s wasted?”
His pasty, freckled face colors clear up to his carroty red hair. “Sorry.” He crosses his arms.
“You’re going to be sorry if you don’t tell me what the fuck you mean.”
He flinches at my words and I snicker inwardly. Jessica sometimes calls me Ninja Bitch, because my bitchiness sneaks up on people when they least expect it. Maybe it’s true. But I don’t like anyone giving me shit. If they do, then the bitch will come out. Simple as that.
Steve coughs and clears his throat. He rolls back his shoulders. “Those shoes aren’t even available for purchase yet.”
