Substitute (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels)

by Isobel Rey

  She took off her blouse and caught the heady scent of Tony’s aftershave lingering on her collar. It wasn’t like Nathan’s, soft, expensive, and inviting; this was flashier, more obvious. But its musky notes invaded her nose and the sense memory put her straight back in that darkened room, watching through the two-way mirror.

  She felt her pussy clench as it yearned to be invaded, to be ravaged, to be completely filled as Tanya’s had been by Lopez. It was agony. She’d stood and watched the orgy, and wanted to be part of it. She had to admit to it; in the darkest region of her she knew it was true. Perhaps only in fantasy, but that was enough. She wanted it; she wanted the feel of a man’s cock inside her. She was standing in her bedroom, but her senses were back in the suite, back at the orgy.

  She knew she would get no sleep tonight if the gnawing, clawing want in her pussy was ignored.

  She pulled off her clothes and looked for the bullet. She’d washed it and put it back in her bag, discreetly hidden in a deep pocket. She fished it out and buried herself under the pink satin quilt covering the king-sized bed. But she had second thoughts. She didn’t want to be tucked away like this; she wanted to feel freer, naked.

  She threw off the quilt and got up on all fours, then looked across at the mirror at the foot of the bed, looking at herself in profile. She saw the curve of her back, arched like a cat as she pushed her bottom high. She traced the angle of her breasts as they hung off her chest, the nipples full and proud as the blood followed gravity to engorge them. She clicked on the bullet and set it to five. Halfway to heaven.

  She brought her hand to her clit, watching as she did so, and felt the buzz hit that sweet spot. The pleasure of watching herself as the thrumming went through her set her pulse racing faster. She didn’t recognise the look in her own face; it was desperate, yearning, like the look on Tanya’s face before Iorizzo had plunged his cock in her mouth.

  Alexia pressed the bullet harder to her clit, and eased up the speed, her pussy rippling with each gear change, climbing with each increment.

  She looked again at her mirror and thought of the cold glass that had separated her from the footballers. Alexia Through the Looking Glass. Her back was arching and her hips rocking as she rode the waves. Her eyes were really heavy now, begging, begging …

  Up again, up to ten. The last furlong. She was riding her way home and she needed to get there, to get there fast. The blood was rushing to her nipples as they hung down and she felt that coursing need in her veins.

  She clenched and unclenched the muscles inside her, trying to create the tension that would push her to orgasm. And then she came, pleasure flooding her abdomen. She rocked with it and bucked her hips forward with each contraction. But as she rode the waves she felt no real satisfaction. The release was short-lived, hollow. There was more, she knew it.

  She breathed a few soft exhalations, then pressed the bullet to herself again. Her clit responded, not with irritation, the soreness that comes from post-orgasmic play. It was still hungry and she fed it. On she pressed, clenching and tensing her leg muscles and rocking. And she came again. This time, the surging was different. No contractions, just swirling, swooshing, shuddering gasps of pleasure that poured all through her, right down her legs. She collapsed onto the bed, just as Tanya had done. She had not been fucked as hard as Tanya, but she had found her release. It was enough for now. It would have to be.

  Chapter Nine

  The buzz in the hotel lobby was tangible. Journalists, photographers, and cameramen were arriving, talking on their mobiles, swaggering and strutting as if this was their sole territory. For the next few hours, it was.

  The staff were busy, never breaking into a trot or a sweat as they were all too well trained. But they were clearly gearing up for a big event.

  The press conference was set for the afternoon. Nathan and Tony had been in a huddle all day, leaving Alexia to fend for herself. She wasn’t needed. She’d busied herself as best she could, making sure all the arrangements were in place for the press conference and the drinks reception for the celebrity guests afterwards. She’d had to deal with all their publicists on the telephone, confirming they’d make an appearance.

  Alexia found the hotel’s liaison, a tall, polite, very camp young man called Oliver. He was immaculate. She couldn’t imagine anyone with better manicured hands or neater eyebrows.

  ‘All ready for the kick-off. Just call me if you have any questions or you need anything, absolutely anything.’ Oliver smiled widely, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was a pro, polished, stylish and hard-nosed as hell. ‘Anything,’ he repeated.

  I’ll bet, she thought. Did he order the girls last night, or was that Tony? Perhaps both.

  Sonia walked into reception. ‘Hello, sweetie, how are you feeling today?’

  In truth, Alexia’s head was a little fuzzy from the wine and the whisky sours. ‘A little cloudy, but better for talking to you last night.’

  Sonia squeezed her arm. ‘It’ll all be OK today. The soccer boys will be too busy looking cool for the cameras to worry about you, and Tony will be too busy looking cool for the soccer boys to worry about you. And Nathan, he’ll just be worrying about everything except you. So just stand back, do your job, make sure there are no hitches, and fix them if there are … Then breathe out!’

  The two women laughed together, but Alexia’s laugh was all gallows humour. Her stomach was churning and it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

  ‘See you in a bit,’ said Sonia and left to speak with her colleagues from the fragrance company who were paying a king’s ransom to have the three footballers fronting their brand.

  Alexia felt alone and exposed, standing in reception, watching all the movement and hustle, not quite knowing how to fit in. She watched as the journalists disappeared into the press conference room, taking the paraphernalia of television and radio with them. The lobby fell silent again.

  ‘Alexia,’ said a deep voice behind her.

  She turned round to see Nathan. He towered over her, immaculate as always. But she couldn’t help noticing he looked as if he hadn’t slept well; just a slight darkness under those dark blue eyes.

  ‘Any problems with the publicists or are we all set?’

  ‘Er … No, we’re fine. I’ve just had another chat with Oliver, our liaison at the hotel, it’s all under control.’

  Nathan eyed her for a minute. ‘No last-minute hitches with Iorizzo or the others?’

  He was watching her carefully. It was obvious he was talking about last night. She wanted to tell him, to explain that nothing happened, she wasn’t part of the fast crowd, that she’d been tricked, but there was no time. Down the corridor, like a royal procession, came the footballers and their entourages – and Tony.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Nathan.

  ‘Buon giorno,’ said Iorizzo, shaking Nathan’s hand vigorously. He went first in the pecking order; after him came Lopez and Carsten. As they greeted Nathan, Alexia felt a rush of fear as Iorizzo passed in front of her. She remembered his offer to do her next, as he’d stood in front of her, his cock on its way back up to an erection after coming all over Tanya. But he looked straight through her. Did he not remember? Was she so forgettable? Was his life such a procession of girls that he didn’t distinguish one from another? Or did she look so different last night, her hair down and dishevelled, not the neat PA she was today?

  He registered no recognition and waited to be shown where to go by Nathan. A wave of relief swept over Alexia. Tony was hovering and she stood well back, trying to make sure she didn’t catch his eye or give him the chance to say anything to her.

  ‘Shall we go? The press are waiting.’ Nathan gestured the way and the footballers strutted into the press conference, their hem-kissing flunkies following behind.

  Tony brought up the rear, trying to catch Alexia, but she tucked herself behind the far side of the group, away from his reach. She thought she saw Nathan notice her moving out of Tony’s way, but she couldn’t b
e sure. His concentration was on his charges, surely?

  As the doors opened, Alexia heard all the camera shutters go off at once. It was like distant gunfire as the footballers walked into the room in a blaze of flash bulbs. They were used to the attention, and they revelled in it.

  She stood well to the side as Nathan ushered the CEO of the fragrance company onto the stage to join the footballers. He was a smart man in his late 50s, but he looked grey and corporate next to the preening soccer stars.

  Alexia wanted to move to the back of the room, but she knew she must stay close to Nathan in case he needed anything.

  The press conference passed in a blur. The journalists fired a barrage of inane questions at the stars: why this aftershave, why this brand, did they actually wear it, did their girlfriends like it …?

  They tried a few sneaky questions about the England manager and the players’ private lives, but Nathan was having none of it. He stepped forward and firmly told them how pleased the boys were to be associated with such a prestigious brand. He was good, Alexia thought, he was very good. He drew the Q&A to a swift close and offered the photographers staged shots.

  The boys and the snappers quickly got into their positions. They’d all done this before.

  She looked at Nathan. He was so in control, so deft, so practiced, his authority unquestionable. But as she watched him she couldn’t stop thinking about the other side, the private side; the side she had glimpsed all too briefly, the softer side. It wasn’t on show today, and she found it hard to bring it clearly to mind.

  He saw her. She was staring, and his eyes had moved across the room and fallen on hers. Her stomach lurched and instinctively she dropped her head and looked at the floor. She kicked herself. Why couldn’t she face him? She forced herself to look up again, but his gaze had travelled on, to a photographer who was being difficult.

  She wanted him so much it hurt. To see him in this room, so close and yet so far. She ached to feel his arms around her again. Sonia had said he’d been dumped by his girlfriend. How could any woman dump him? Alexia couldn’t imagine ever leaving a man like Nathan.

  She looked over at Tony, who was chatting to some journalists. What a difference, she thought. He loved this. He loved every minute of being associated with these people, of being the gatekeeper the journalists would have to try and get through to get to the stars.

  Lopez walked past and slapped Tony’s arm. ‘My man!’ he said, and sauntered on despite a couple of the journalists trying to speak to him. Tony’s chest swelled almost visibly. And his ego, thought Alexia.

  Tony looked up at Alexia and she saw him make a tiny thrust of his hips towards her. No one else would have seen it, but she did; it was meant for her.

  She wanted to slap him, but he still managed to turn her on. She felt a squirt in her panties. She stepped away, turning to look at the rest of the room. Why did he still turn her on? Everything seemed to turn her on at the moment. Why? She knew why. She needed sex. Real sex. Real, honest to goodness, pin you down, tear your clothes off, fuck you till your ears rattle sex. Watching the spit roast last night had unleashed not just a yearning for lovemaking but a yearning to be taken. She felt as if the tension in her vagina was almost visible; it was agonising.

  The photographing was over and Nathan was ushering the soccer stars into the reception room where celebrities and hangers-on were already gathered to celebrate the union of football and fragrance. It was all completely fake, but this deal was worth a huge amount of money to the agency, Alexia knew that.

  The crowd was liberally sprinkled with some very well-known faces and a few that Alexia recognised only vaguely, the C-listers who turned up to these events just to get their pictures in the About Town sections of the glossies.

  She saw Sonia talking to a soap actor. He was looking over her shoulder the whole time, to see if anyone more “interesting” was coming into the room. Sonia looked up and saw Alexia; it was her cue to get away.

  She sauntered over, grabbing an extra glass of champagne from a flunky on the way. ‘Well, it’s all gone very well,’ she said, handing a glass to Alexia.

  ‘I’m working,’ said Alexia.

  ‘Just sip it. No one will fire you for that. Not Nathan, anyway.’

  ‘Please stop talking about Nathan,’ she said, and took a large gulp of the sparkling wine.

  Alexia was trying to keep her now rampaging desire dampened down, tucked away in a cupboard where it was safe. Just the mention of Nathan’s name ensured it burst out of its captivity and danced a jig in her vagina.

  To make matters worse, he suddenly appeared close by. It wasn’t an opportunity Sonia was going to miss. She called him over.

  ‘Nathan! Good event, my company is very pleased. It’ll be great for the brand,’ she cooed.

  Nathan smiled. ‘Thank you Sonia, we do our best. And it’s good to see you here, some sanity.’

  He didn’t look at Alexia. But Sonia was on a mission.

  ‘I’ve been talking to your new PA here. You really do hire very good people, you know. I might steal her away from you!’

  Alexia was mortified. What was Sonia doing?

  ‘Well, thank you.’ He was thrown by Sonia’s remark, but only for the briefest second before full composure was restored. Sonia wasn’t fooled. She moved in for the kill.

  ‘I’d hang on to her very tightly if I were you.’ She smiled.

  Nathan was unsure whether she was being straight or playing with him. Alexia could feel his hesitation.

  ‘I intend to,’ he said.

  Sonia smiled at them both. Nathan still didn’t look at Alexia.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, ladies, there’s something I have to see to.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Sonia smoothly.

  And with that he walked away. Alexia breathed out hard and took an enormous gulp of champagne.

  Sonia smiled a wicked smile. ‘He “intends to”. Hmm!’

  ‘What was that for?’ hissed Alexia.

  ‘Ssh, someone will hear you. Sonia giggled.

  Alexia moaned with distress.

  ‘Hey listen, it was only three words but it was a very loaded answer, don’t you think?’

  Alexia thought. ‘I – I don’t know. What else could he say?’

  ‘That guy likes you. He may not like the fact that he likes you, but he likes you. And trust me, darling, I’ve known him a long time and I’ve never seen that before.’

  Alexia was silent. Could it be true? She daren’t hope. Her eyes searched Nathan out. He was talking to a group of actors. He looked animated, engaged; they hung on his every word. In this room full of money and glamour, this former cavalry officer stood head and shoulders above them all, physically and in every other way.

  ‘If you want him,’ said Sonia, ‘then you have to take a risk. You may lose, you may get your heart broken, but you may never get another chance at a man like him, Alexia. They don’t come along every day.’

  Sonia squeezed her arm and moved on to mingle with the other guests, leaving Alexia alone with her glass of champagne.

  They don’t come along every day, Sonia had said, and she knew it was true. But what if she did get her heart broken? If it was broken by Nathan, she couldn’t imagine it would ever mend.

  She wasn’t alone for long; she’d avoided him all day but, with an inevitability that seemed to cling to all her dealings with Tony, there he was, at her side, his hand on the small of her back as he leant in a little too close to talk to her.

  ‘You really should have stayed last night.’

  ‘Stop it!’ hissed Alexia. She couldn’t make a fuss; the room was too crowded and she was on show, part of the Fallon team. She was trapped again. Trapped with Tony.

  ‘It’s a nice game, this cat and mouse thing. It’ll be a lot of fun when Tom eventually gets Jerry …’

  He lowered his hand to circle around her hip and pulled her ever so slightly to him. He could get away with it, he knew; in a room full of celebrities and luvvies,
tactile conversations were the norm.

  She hated herself for feeling it, but the warmth of his hand on her gave a small thrill of pleasure.

  ‘I’m not a mouse,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh no, not you. I’m the mouse …’

  Alexia looked at him, puzzled. His eyes were wicked as always. That slightly cruel twist in his mouth made the angelic aura his soft blond curls gave him even more seductive.

  ‘Yes, that poor little mouse is me. You’re definitely the hunting pussy.’ He rolled his lips around the word pussy, making sure its double meaning wasn’t lost on Alexia. ‘Like those cats who get a mouse then let it get away, pretending they’re not interested, then grab it back again, before they start the game all over again, torturing the poor little thing. That’s you, my little minx.’

  Tony put on a pathetic face as if he were the tortured mouse, all hurt and wide-eyed.

  ‘Stop being ridiculous,’ protested Alexia.

  ‘It’s true.’ His voice was low and his eyes twinkled again. ‘Fuck me, don’t fuck me, fuck me, don’t fuck me … Isn’t that the game you’ve been playing?’

  ‘No, it isn’t!’

  Tony gave an indulgent laugh. ‘Oh baby, don’t deny it, why else would you get so hot?’

  He breathed the word hot into her ear as if to press the point home, and her cunt flared at the feel of his breath, just as he knew it would.

  ‘And why else do those gorgeous little nipples of yours stand to attention every time Uncle Tony wants to play with them?’

  As if obeying his orders, she felt her nipples do just that. Alexia knew she had no control. He knew how to press her buttons, and he was pressing them now.

  She looked around, terrified people could hear, but the guests were all deep in their own conversations. The only eyes that strayed were those rubbernecking, looking for someone more famous to talk to. Their gaze never rested on Alexia and Tony.

  ‘Last night you’d have let those guys fuck you blind if that window hadn’t been there.’