by Paige North
I leaned on the steel railing, looking over the edge. The street was so far below, tiny little dots of life. Ahead was the glittering lights of the city, sparkling like jewelry.
“So this is a million dollar view,” I said, the breeze light on my bare skin.
“It cost a little more than that,” he grinned. Leo leaned on the railing next to me, his forearm brushing mine. “What other auditions have you been on?”
I tucked my chin, embarrassed. “None. That was my first one.”
“You don’t say,” he said, turning to face me. “I never would have guessed.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“But I’m so good at it.”
“And don’t be arrogant, either,” I said, fixing him with my most stern expression.
“You know, if you’d played the part this well at the audition, you might have stood a chance. At least for a callback.”
“Well, I don’t have a lot of experience,” I said. He raised a brow. “In acting,” I clarified. My nipples suddenly felt stiff and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
“Luckily for you, you’re standing next to someone who knows a thing or two about acting, auditions, casting…a general knowledge of the movie business, some would say.”
“No kidding?” I said. “Hmm, you know it’s so easy to forget what you do for a living.” When I smiled, he smiled back.
“Honestly, though. I could give you some tips. You weren’t as bad as you think.”
“My roommate says I should get over it,” I said. “She’s a dancer and jokes that her full-time job is getting rejections.”
“She’s not altogether wrong,” Leo said. “There’s a lot of rejection in the industry. It’s not for the weak hearted.”
“Good thing I’m strong, then,” I said, and believe me, it was all false confidence.
Leo looked at me carefully, his eyes scanning every inch of my face, and then down to my hips and waist. “I don’t think you’re an actress.”
“Wha—what? Yes I am. I mean, I'm trying to be.”
“You either are or you aren’t, and I don’t think you’re an actress,” he said, inching closer to me. “You hadn’t even heard of The Groundlings, and everybody who’s starting up in acting knows about The Groundlings. So why don’t you tell me what you’re really here to do.”
I couldn’t speak. I don’t think I moved. “Come on, Sophie. Confess,” he said in a teasing whisper, the traffic below us humming.
My heart stopped and I could hardly swallow. “Confess what?” I said through a clenched jaw.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” he said, and I could hear in his voice that he didn’t truly suspect just how close he was to exposing my lies.
I turned to look back at the view. I could better trust myself if I didn’t have to look at him. “You’re right—I’m not an actor. I took the audition because I'm desperate for work. I just moved here and, well, money is tight. I saw an ad for the audition and decided to give it a shot.”
“Did you wake up thinking today was the day you’d be discovered?”
I laughed. “Hardly.”
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “I want to know.” He tilted his head and looked at me, and something about the way his eyes found me made me think that, even if this was all part of his game, his did want to know.
I bit the corner of my lip, thinking if it was a mistake to say what I was about to say. “I want to be a writer,” I said, liking telling the truth to him for once.
“Is that so?” he said, his voice soft. He moved closer to me, closing the small bit of space between us, leaving mere inches.
I was a little stunned that he didn’t sound suspicious or upset at the revelation. After all, Kait and the others had said that Leo would never trust a writer.
Words failed me, so I nodded yes. I ran my hand over my arm, chills from the breeze—or maybe from Leo’s closeness.
“Cold?” he asked. Without waiting for my response, he ran his hands up and down my arms, slowly. His skin on mine was hot, giving me another dose of chills. “Are you sure? Because you’ve got some major goose bumps here.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Is this helping?” he asked, his hands still moving on me.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to move closer?”
“Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I could feel how strong and defined his chest was, and I lay a hand there, feeling his strength. He put a hand on my lower back and tugged my hips into his. He held me there for a moment as my heart raced. His arms felt so good around me, so secure. The breeze of the warm air fluttered over me. I couldn’t help but press myself into him a little more, and I felt how excited he was—the same as me. Through the thin fabric of my dress, I pushed a little closer as he held me a little tighter.
Leo lifted my chin up, and our eyes met. He held my gaze as he gave the slightest rock against me, showing me again how hard he was, and oh good Lord how big, and it made me lose my breath. My mouth was open, wanting his on mine so desperately, waiting for him to do more.
I wondered if any of this would go in my article, and then told myself to stop thinking about the article and the magazine. If I was going to really do this, really embrace my mission, then I’d have to temporarily forget the truth and believe my own lie.
Another slight pang of guilt hit my stomach and I pushed it away.
Conscience be gone. I have a hot man holding me tight, and I’m not ruining this moment with my neurotic, obsessive overthinking.
Leo slid his hand around the back of my neck, gathered my hair in his hand, and pulled me to his lips. His lips touched mine softly, and it took every inch of my willpower to let him go at his speed, because the slow touch of his lips was beyond hot.
“This body,” he said, his breath on my lips, his hands tracing the curve of my hips and down my back. “In this dress.” He kissed me again, but deeper, his tongue finally stroking mine as he continued to push himself against my crotch. I let out a whimper—I couldn't help myself. I was in pain, on fire, and all from a kiss and a touch. I needed more, so much more, but I willed myself to go slow and let him set the pace.
Leo deepened the kiss, melding our mouths together, tasting each other like it was life we were looking for. My hand traced up the back of his neck, and I dug my fingers into his hair, gripping him and trying to get more of him. My body wanted to melt right into his.
He pulled back, our lips tinged from the pressure. “Do you even realize how sexy you are? What you’re doing to me?”
I leaned up and kissed him again, the only words I could find to tell him that he was the one doing this to me—and I wanted more. More of his tongue on mine, more of his hands on more of my body. The city below had faded away, and all that mattered was Leo’s hands, and Leo’s mouth. Something beyond my control was pulling us together and I didn’t want to stop it.
He moved his hand around my hip and down the side of my thigh, giving me shivers for the place he just passed. He kept his mouth firmly on mine as he bent slightly to gather up the hem of my skirt to touch my bare skin, his warm hand griping and rubbing my thigh. I was thankful I’d decided to wear my silk panties as his hand moved over my ass. He pulled his lips away from mine and I almost whimpered at the loss. He hooked his hand under my knee and lifted my leg, setting my strappy-heeled foot on the railing near my shin. He slid back the fabric of my skirt again, pushing it up to my hip. He moved his hand over my panties, cupping my crotch.
“God, I can feel how wet you are even through this,” he said, moving his fingers across me. I rocked forward, needing more of him, but his other hand held firm to my hip. “No. Stay still.”
I didn’t think it was physically possible, and I wanted to cry out. As he moved his hand across my panties, using his middle finger for extra pressure on my slit, I held tight to his broad, strong shoulders. “Please,” I said.
He pulled back and
looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Already begging, are you?”
Instead of speaking, I pulled him toward me and crushed his mouth with mine. He responded, our tongues moving together as he held firm on my hip. Under my skirt, he finally made his move.
He moved aside the small bit of fabric and slid his finger across my slit. “You’re so wet,” he said. “Have you been wet all night?”
“Since I first saw you,” I panted as his finger continued to tease, moving back and forth but not entering me. He circled my clit, hard and throbbing. I draped my arm over his shoulder, holding tight.
Finally he slipped a finger inside me, giving me the slightest bit of release but not nearly enough. He slowly pulled his finger out and circled my clit again before dipping it back into me as deep as he could go, and out again, back and forth. My hand slid from his neck down this hard chest. As I continued down past his waist, almost to the thing I wanted most, he stopped me, his fingers still in my soaked pussy and his other hand on my wrist.
“No,” he said, his voice ragged. “Not tonight. Just wait.”
How could he stand it? How could he go so slow, so patient? I wanted to rip every stitch of clothing from him, run my hands and lips over his entire body, feeling how hard was, from the muscles in his arms and chest to the bulge pushing out the front of his perfectly-tailored pants. I needed more of him, and then he slipped a second finger inside me, moving slow enough to make my head spin. I closed my eyes and felt only his fingers on me, torturing me, thrilling me, making me want to scream out. When he inserted a third finger, I did.
“God, you’re so sexy to watch,” Leo said, moving his fingers faster, deep, moving them so that they rubbed my clit and I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer. “I want to taste you.”
I opened my eyes, looking at him. For a moment, the image of his tongue on my soaked pussy flashed through my mind, and it looked perfect. It was exactly what I wanted, before I even realized.
Keeping his eyes on me, he said, “Not tonight. Tonight I want to watch you come on my hand.”
I let out a small groan, disappointed, but the way he continued to thrill me with just his fingers was beyond amazing. I felt nothing but his fingers inside me, my entire skin buzzing with pleasure, my stomach clenched, my pussy ready to explode all over his hand. His own breathing had sped up, matching mine. I whimpered the closer he pushed me to orgasm. Knowing he was watching my face made me self-conscious, but it also thrilled me. His long fingers brushed over my clit, and when he breathed out my name, that was the end. The world exploded behind my eyes, up through my stomach and out my throat, where I groaned and cried out like I never had before. My head fell on Leo’s shoulder, my hands still holding on to him, purely for support. Otherwise, I’d fall right over.
“God,” I finally managed.
He slid his fingers out of me. Quietly he said, “I still want to taste you.” I watched mesmerized as put his fingers in his mouth, moaning as he pulled them out, slowly, savoring every moment. “I knew a girl as sweet as you would taste the same.”
Locking my eyes to his, I took his wrist, surprising him—and myself. I opened my mouth and slide my tongue from the bottom of those fingers all the way up before wrapping my lips around the top. Then I dipped my head to take all three fingers in my mouth and slowly slid down and up.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, his eyes heavy as he watched, fascinated. I gave one last pull as I released his fingers. “You’re incredible.”
I lowered my leg from the railing and readjusted my dress, back into its proper position.
“Seen enough?” he said.
“Hardly.”
We went back inside settled on the couch, where the untouched food and barely sipped prosecco still sat. A silence fell over us. Not awkward, exactly. Leo looked at me with ease, the lust still present in the curve of his lips but the hunger satiated, at least for now.
“So,” he said, taking a drink. “Think you’ll be taking any more auditions? I just want to be warned in advance. “
“Very funny,” I said, eating some of the cheese on the table. If I was hungry before I was ravenous now.
“I told you I was good with teasing.” A smiled played on his lips, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Tell me more about writing. What kind do you want to do?”
“Fiction,” I said. “Novels. Maybe screenplays,” I added. I hadn’t thought about screenplays until then, but it seemed to please Leo. I wished I could tell him everything, but that was now an impossibility.
“Good,” he said. “Then I can still give you some pointers, and we won’t have to limit our activities to the balcony.”
I laughed. Telling him about writing had been surprisingly easy. I didn’t feel silly like I sometimes did, when people would snicker, “So you wanna write the great American novel?”
When I’d told my ex-boyfriend Paul that I wanted to major in writing, he’d said, “I hope you want to be a teacher, because that’s the only kind of job someone with that kind of degree will ever get.”
It stung me to realize that so far, Leo was nothing like I’d imagined him to be. Right now, in fact, I liked him better than anyone else I’d met since moving to LA.
Still, I had to remember my mission. “Did you always want to be the youngest head of a movie studio?”
“Hardly,” he said. “But I’ve always been driven, that’s for sure.” He stared down at the floor for a moment. “I started out wanting to be a writer.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I wrote this terrible screenplay when I was still an undergrad and submitted it to another studio. I was so full of confidence that I was sure they’d buy it for a million dollars. I didn’t get so much as a rejection. They didn’t even bother.”
“Ouch,” I said. I could totally relate. I’d once submitted an overly wrought short story to a literary magazine. I did get a rejection—an auto-reply from the site’s info box.
“Yeah. If anyone finds out that script is floating around, it’ll be dug up and laughed at by the industry,” he said.
“Well, I won’t tell,” I said. “I don’t really feel like being sued.”
“Sophie,” he said, disappointed. He gave his head the slightest of shakes. “Don’t do that.”
I didn’t say anything. I guessed teasing about the contract was out of bounds. I didn’t want the awkwardness to settle in after such an incredible moment on the balcony, so after a moment I said, “I should probably get going.” I stood up. “Thanks so much for having me over.”
“Of course,” he said, standing up with me. “I’ll walk you to do the door.”
We started across the marble floors, my heels echoing in the large space. Just before he opened the door that led down the hall to what I now realized was a private elevator, Leo said, “Wait. Will you do me a favor?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Stay here,” he said, and went back inside his condo, which is a silly thing to call a place that was more like a mansion in the sky. When Leo came back, he held a stack of papers in his hand. “This script has been floating around the office for months. It’s been read by a dozen executives and ten junior readers but no one can figure out what’s missing. It should be a good story but something is off. Would you read it and let me know what you think? You can write notes on this copy.”
“Yeah,” I said, stunned. “Sure.” One thing I realized in taking this script from Leo Armstrong was that he intended to see me again. That was good—for the magazine, of course.
As incredible as the balcony had been—as amazing as he was with his lips and hands—I decided to use him like he was using me. Mutually beneficial. If a woman wanted to be in his presence, they had to sign away their rights to him. He got all the comfort of doing whatever he wanted in the relationship knowing he’d suffer no consequences.
Eventually, he’d tire of me and unceremoniously dump me like he did every other girl.
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Sure, he seemed nice enough right now, but that was because he wanted to sleep with me. As soon as he got what he wanted from me, his true colors would come out and then I’d be nothing to him.
Fine.
That would simply make it easier to do the hit piece that Kait was looking for me to write about him for Crush.
But will you really sleep with him if that’s what it comes to? Sleep with a man you don’t respect, who doesn’t respect you?
I sighed, knowing that this was the worst part of it all.
Sleeping with him was what I was looking forward to most.
7
“Spill it,” Kait said, practically pulling me into her office. “I want every detail.”
I was surprised to see Alexa and Bethany sitting in Kait’s office. They were all waiting, pens hovering over notepads.
“Grab a chair from down the hall,” Bethany said.
I took the extra chair from Kait’s assistant’s desk and rolled it into Kait’s office, where all three women looked at me as eagerly as children waiting for their birthday presents.
“Kait said you were at Leo Armstrong’s place last night,” Bethany began, once I sat down.
“Must have been some audition,” Alexa smirked.
Shifting in my seat, I licked my lips. “I totally blew the audition.”
“It certainly doesn’t sound like you did,” Kait said, slowly swiveling her chair like a lion circling its prey. “You clearly did something right.”
“How did he get you to his apartment?” Alexa asked. “Like, what was his excuse?”
“Alexa, he’s Leo Armstrong,” Bethany snickered. “He doesn’t need an excuse.”
I had to admit, Bethany was right about that. “He just called and invited me over,” I said. “That was sort of it.”
“And?” Bethany and Alexa asked at the same time.
“And I went. His place is huge. It has its own elevator,” I added lamely.
Alexa and Bethany exchanged looks like they couldn’t believe the boring details I was handing over about a such a huge player. I didn’t feel comfortable at all telling them or anyone else about the balcony incident, and other than that we didn’t exactly talk about too much—at least nothing news worthy. What we did talk about had been clouded by the way he made me—and my body—feel when his hands were on me, something I thought every waking second since.
