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Praise for Rebecca Chance:
Praise for Divas:
‘A classic tale of bitchy women fighting their way to the top’ Daily Mirror
‘A bright new star in blockbusters, Rebecca Chance’s Divas sizzles with glamour, romance and revenge.
Unputdownable. A glittering page-turner, this debut had me hooked from the first page’
LOUISE BAGSHAWE
‘I laughed, I cried, I very nearly choked. Just brilliant! This has to be the holiday read of the year. Rebecca Chance’s debut will bring colour to your cheeks even if the credit crunch means you’re reading it in Bognor rather than the Balearics’
OLIVIA DARLING
Praise for Bad Girls:
‘Glitzy, hedonistic and scandalous, this compelling read is a real page-turner’ Closer
‘A fun, frivolous read’ Sun
Praise for Bad Sisters:
‘I’d definitely recommend this book if you’re looking for a sexy beach read this summer, or you just want to escape into another world for a while – Chance certainly delivers on all counts!’ ChickLitReviews.com
‘Blistering new bonkbuster’ Sun
‘A gripping and exciting novel’ Closer
‘An explosive read’ Star Magazine
Also by Rebecca Chance
Divas
Bad Girls
Bad Sisters
COMING SOON:
Killer Heels
Bad Angels
First published in Great Britain by Simon and Schuster, 2012
A CBS COMPANY
Copyright © Rebecca Chance, 2012
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc. All rights reserved.
The right of Rebecca Chance to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
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Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney
Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
eBook ISBN 978-1-47111-303-1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Typeset by M Rules
Contents
Introduction
In which Carin takes Rico’s sexual education to a new level
Carin Fitzgerald, having put her rich old ...
In which Niels and Lola celebrate her acquittal
Lola Fitzgerald has been acquitted of the ...
In which Evie begins her new burlesque career ...
Kicked out of the Tribeca penthouse where ...
Killer Heels
Prologue Manhattan: Now
Coco
PART ONE – London: Then
Jodie
Victoria
Welcome to my naughty bits! If you’ve bought this eBook, firstly, thank you very much indeed. And secondly, you must be one of my readers who takes pleasure – as it were – in the saucier parts of my novels. Believe me, I love writing them as much as you do reading them. I always have. But with my first novel – Divas – neither I, nor my publishers, were sure about exactly how much pure filth worked in a bonkbuster, and though I love that book, I did feel afterwards that there were even more sexy scenes that could have taken place between some characters. I was regretful that I had never shown Carin having sex – I knew that she would be an absolute bitch to her partner! – and I also thought that Evie, after she’d broken up with Lawrence, would be very sexually frustrated. Especially working in the Midnight Lounge and then Maud’s, both of which were very heated atmospheres.
Once I started thinking about it, I couldn’t stop picturing various scenes. And I also found myself with one more vision of Lola and Niels in their limo, both of them over the moon about her freedom, charged-up with excitement. It was pretty crazed of me, considering that I had already written Killer Heels (out in August) and Bad Angels (out in November), but I must have been on some kind of erotica roll, because as soon as I delivered Bad Angels, I found myself starting to imagine Evie, backstage after having performed her mermaid act for the very first time, and wanting to celebrate . . .
So I did! And you’re about to read the results of my fevered imagination. My editor swallowed hard, but suggested putting the scenes out as an e-book. Come and find me on Facebook, and tell me what you think of them? Actually, I hope you enjoy reading them even more than I enjoyed writing them!
Love
Rebecca Chance xx
In which Carin takes Rico’s sexual education to a new level
Carin Fitzgerald, having put her rich old husband into a coma, is enjoying herself very thoroughly after a workout in her private gym . . .
As the door closed behind her new personal trainer, Carin was already stripping off her exercise gear and admiring her toned, naked body in the mirror. She was incredibly horny, despite the disappointment she’d felt on realising that the trainer was gay; she’d thought that not only was she going to get thoroughly laid, but that she would be enjoying the particular and specific pleasure of putting a new man through his paces, seeing how extensive his experience was. Could he teach her anything at all? That was rarer and rarer, a man who could show Carin something she didn’t already know. But even the excitement of a new body, a new cock, was enough to give an extra fizz to her sex life.
Well, she’d have to make do with Rico. He might not give her the excitement of fresh meat, but at least he was hung like a horse.
The door of the gym swung open, and there he was, bulked up with muscle, wearing a black t-shirt tucked into black flat-fronted trousers, his uniform. She’d bought this outfit in bulk for him when she first took him on. Thank God for American stores, they were used to large sizes: Banana Republic made trousers big enough to fit over Rico’s pumped-up thighs and shoulders. And she wasn’t spending more than Banana Republic money on a jumped-up bouncer.
Because that was what Rico had been when she found him, a bouncer. Now, ostensibly her bodyguard, he was really her dark shadow behind the scenes. Rico did any heavy lifting that Carin needed done. Buying her drugs when she wanted to get high. Leaning on people she needed leaned on. Finding a nurse who was prepared to kill her husband for a lot of money – and perjure himself about it for even more money.
‘I thought the new guy was here?’ Rico said, looking confused at being called down here, at the sight of Carin’s nakedness. ‘Or was he no good?’
‘He’s gay,’ she said curtly.
A nasty smile curved Rico’s lips. His many spells in prison hadn’t exactly done anything to curb the homophobia that was rampant in his native Cuban community.
‘You want me to teach him a lesson?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Jesus, no!’ Carin said curtly. ‘Are you nuts? What’s that going to do, stop him liking men?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Leave him alone, OK. He’s a great trainer. I don’t want you
pulling any stupid shit on him.’
She walked towards Rico, watching their reflections in the huge mirror panels on the walls, enjoying the contrast between them – she was so pale, and Rico, with his Latino colouring and his black clothes, so dark. When she reached him, she grabbed a handful of t-shirt, pulling it out of his waistband, and shoved one hand down his trousers, feeling for his dick. It was hardening even as she reached for it.
‘That’s more like it,’ she said with satisfaction.
Holding his dick firmly, feeling it grow and grow in her grasp, she led him across the room to the pull-up machine, enjoying his awkward shuffle as he tried to move fast enough to avoid her pulling uncomfortably on his penis. The kneeling pad on the machine was down, and she climbed onto it, releasing him as she did so, reaching up to grab the pull-up bars above her.
She spread her long legs, hooking her feet around either side of the metal frame. The leather beneath her bare buttocks, the cold metal at her ankles, were extra stimulation, extra sensation. She was raring to go, wet and more than ready for the big, slightly curved dick that Rico was pulling out of his trousers. He dived into his pocket for a condom and ripped off the wrapper, working it hurriedly onto the swollen head of his penis.
‘Fuck me,’ she commanded, looking down at her white-blonde bush, widening her eyes as Rico shoved down his trousers, kicked them away, and approached her, holding his dick, angling it between her lips, mingling his thick dark mat of pubic hair with hers as she screamed with the initial pain of having something that big shove its way up her. Wet as she was, it always hurt on the first few strokes, and she always loved that part. Maybe she’d have him put it up her ass next.
And then her contorted mouth twisted into a smile as she thought of an even better idea.
The muscles in her upper arms, already sore, protested as she clung on to the bars above her. Her inner thighs were screaming with the extra work of holding herself in position, tilting her pelvis up, so that Rico had full access to her pussy, so he could get as far into it as his big dick could go, pumping her with everything he had. He loved to fuck. He wasn’t a sophisticated lover; his idea of fucking was pumping away, ramming her hard and fast, just like this, no variation. But he could go forever, and Carin had enough imagination for the both of them.
Rico knew what his job was: to be a fucking machine. Carin was the one at the wheel.
And she loved to drive.
Letting go of the bars, she slid herself forward, tilting her pelvis impossibly higher, groaning as Rico’s dick smashed repeatedly against her cervix. She reached her arms around him, feeling the sweat gathering in the small of his back, running her fingers in it, sliding them down to cup his buttocks. Rico was too engrossed in his work to notice her demonic smile as she clamped together the second and third fingers of her right hand, worked them down his hairy cleft, paused for a moment, toying with his ass, drawing moans of pleasure from him as she flicked her fingers around it. Then she shoved both fingers, lubricated with his own salty sweat, up his asshole in one swift, unstoppable, practised movement.
‘Fuck!’ he yelled. ‘Fuck! You fucking bitch!’
‘You fucking love it.’ Carin worked her fingers against his prostate, pressing too hard for it to be purely pleasurable. ‘You love it, don’t you?’
‘No, I fucking don’t, you bitch—’
He writhed and bucked, but Carin held on tight. She’d trained him up with a thumb first, knowing how much it would humiliate a tight-ass Cuban macho man like him to enjoy a woman shoving something up his ass: now, for the first time, she’d made him take two fingers. And it wouldn’t end there.
‘You’re almost ready for a strap-on,’ she taunted him, watching the fury in his face, his corded neck straining, a vein popping out on his temple as he kept fucking her, harder than ever now, his black eyes hard and hot with fury. ‘Come on, give it up, show me how much you love it—’
She hooked her fingers inside him, laughing at him as he gasped at the extreme sensation.
‘You fucking whore bitch—’ he moaned, as his body jerked in great spasms, his semen flooding out of him, coming despite himself, filling the condom.
Her other hand between her legs, Carin brought herself off, coming almost immediately. The sight of Rico’s humiliation was the most potent aphrodisiac she could imagine.
‘How you love it—’ she grunted as her orgasm hit her hard, ‘getting fucked in the ass by me – ugh—’
His dick was still enormous inside her. She spasmed around it, one orgasm hitting her after the next, grinding herself down on him to prolong the sensation, her eyes squeezed closed to savour the intensity even more.
‘I’m going to buy a strap-on for you,’ she groaned. ‘Just a small one at first. God, you’re going to come so hard – it’ll take you to a whole different place, you’ll see—’
Her eyes opened, and she caught Rico staring down at her, still braced in position. He caught himself and ducked his head, reaching down between their legs to pull himself out, careful to keep the condom on.
But in that stare, she had read everything. Satisfied lust; resentment, for the way she dictated how and when he could fuck her; hate, because she did things to him that violated his entire concept of what it meant to be a man.
And furious, dark, burning desire. Because somewhere inside him, that humiliation was what he craved. Carin would buy that strap-on, and fuck him with it, and she’d make him come so hard he’d shatter into little pieces.
God, it’ll be so much fun, she thought lazily, in the aftermath of her own orgasms. A whole new game to play with him. I can hardly wait.
In which Niels and Lola celebrate her acquittal
Lola Fitzgerald has been acquitted of the charge of murdering her father, and is ready to celebrate with Niels Van der Veer, who has carried her into a limo and is whisking her away to a Thai island to recuperate from her ordeal.
The glass of the windows was smoky-dark, the panel between the seating section and the chauffeur in front was shut tight. Niels and Lola found themselves once again sealed together in a dimly-lit, leather-upholstered limo, with the world shut out. Gruffly, he said:
‘Champagne?’ and leant forward to reach for a bottle of Veuve Cliquot propped in a gleaming ice-bucket.
‘Afterwards,’ Lola said, putting one small hand out to push him back in his seat as she kneeled up and climbed on top of him, swinging one leg over to straddle his thighs, hearing the slit in the back of her skirt rip as her legs stretched wide.
She didn’t even bother to read Niels’s expression. She just grabbed his face with both hands and pulled it towards her as she kissed him deeply, her tongue sliding past his lips, grinding herself into him with all the pent-up frustration and excitement and relief of the past few weeks, the stress of her trial, the misery of Niels’s apparent disappearance. As soon as she had chosen him, Lola had felt as light as a feather, and not just because he had swept her up in his arms as easily as if she weighed nothing at all.
This is how it feels when you make a decision that’s a hundred per-cent right for you, Lola realised. Absolutely, totally, completely right for you. I feel as if I drank a whole bottle of champagne already. I feel like I’m floating on Cloud Nine. I feel like—
And then Niels grabbed her round the waist and shifted her so that his erection was wedged firmly between her legs, just where he wanted it, pressing up insistently, so big and hard that she moaned into his mouth, suddenly desperate for him, not wanting to wait another moment, writhing down on his cock, rubbing herself against it, working herself so lithely that she could feel its tip pressing into her through the layers of fabric that separated them, trying to enter her despite the obstacles, feeling so good that she heard herself moaning in pleasure as it made contact with her most sensitive parts.
Niels lifted her up and pushed her back, and she cried out in frustration even as she reached forward, wrestling with his belt buckle and zip, pulling out his cock, but she barely man
aged to touch it before he picked her up, put one hand between her legs and ripped at the crotch of her tights so hard that she heard the nylon rending apart, the slit of her skirt ripping still further, and Niels shoved aside her thong, the sensation of his fingers on her naked damp skin so intense that she screamed in delight, raised her still further and, one hand guiding his cock, the other on her waist, slid himself into her and right up inside her in one deep thrust.
Lola’s eyes rolled back in her head so far that she could barely see. But she didn’t need to. All she needed to do was feel. Niels’s hands were both on her waist now, lifting her up, pulling her down as he thrust up inside her in long jerking strokes. But Lola was doing most of the work, her slim legs and core so toned from Pilates and yogacise that she had excellent control over her movements, splayed out as she was to accommodate Niels’s wide, sprawled thighs. She rode him, grinding herself against him, utterly concentrated on the purely selfish goal of bringing herself to the hardest, fastest orgasm she could achieve; there was no time for subtleties, for teasing, for slowing down for some soft delicate strokes where they kissed and moaned into each other’s mouths. All Lola wanted was to get off like an out-of-control train slamming into buffers. She was mad for him, mad for his cock, mad to explode in a release that would wipe her brain clean of all the tension and misery of the previous weeks, and she bit her lip and forced herself down on him, her hands on his shoulders for extra leverage, whimpering every time her clitoris ground against the hair at the base of his cock, single-mindedly taking herself towards fulfilment.
Niels reached his hands between her legs and ripped her tights still further, the sound of the fabric splitting so erotic that Lola moaned even louder and pounded at him even faster, his hands raising to pull open her jacket, rip at the buttons of her demure blouse, tear at it so he could cover her breasts with his hands, rolling her small pink nipples between his fingers, pinching at them lightly. He pulled her forward, sinking his head into the soft skin, biting at her neck, her breasts, his whole chest pressed against hers, and she grabbed at his hair, so unexpectedly soft and silky, trying to find a lock long enough to wrap through her fingers and pull so she could drag him even closer to her, wind herself even tighter against him.
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