Hollywood Confidential

by Mel Curtis

  “I can see enough.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders, thumbs splayed on her collarbone. And then with agonizing slowness Evan dragged his hands down over her breasts, across the indentation of her stomach and around the fullness of her hips. “I choose to make you mine and I’m going to welcome the sound of your screaming orgasm with a joyous one of my own.”

  He was trying to use the Rules. Amber felt like melting into a puddle at his feet. He was validating the trust she was giving him–with her reputation, her body, her heart.

  “From the moment our bodies touched, I’ve needed you.” Evan sank to his knees and pressed his mouth to the silk covering her mound. His breath came hot and fast over her mons. “We don’t need this.” He ripped off her thong. The lace dug into her skin before falling to the floor. “But now, I need this.” His fingers parted her and his tongue dove in, finding her clit, learning the geography of Lady Land.

  He explored her hidden folds with the same single-minded ferocity he showed on the court, holding nothing back, giving his all.

  Had Amber thought she liked sex after being with Kent? She and Evan took lovemaking to a whole new level.

  She gripped his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

  He didn’t. But he changed techniques, suckling her clit as if it was her nipple, as if he needed her juices to survive. Each pull tugged at her insides, building, reaching, making her forget who she was and where they were. She exploded with a long, rippling scream and would have collapsed if he hadn’t caught her in his arms.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered, standing. He stroked her hair until the tremors in her subsided. And then his stroke extended, and his fingers gripped her ass. “I want this.”

  She was regaining her equilibrium. “No.”

  “No?” His grip loosened. “No?” he said again, no less vulnerable.

  “You have to strip.” Her hands were already at his shirt. “We have to be equals. Not the superstud and the paparazzi princess. Just a man and a woman.”

  “I knew there was something I liked about you.” There was a smile in his voice, clear as if she could see his face. His clothing went into a heap by the foot of the bed. The moonlight was strong enough to dance over his hard planes.

  “You only like one thing?” Amber teased.

  “Too many things.” He was naked. Naked and muscular and beautiful. She had to touch his sculpted body, his powerful muscles, his hard, smooth cock. She wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft and slid them up and down the silken length of him.

  “And now I have something else to like about you.” He moved her hand aside and rolled a condom on, bodying up to her, pressing his need against her belly. “You’re always on my mind. You make me laugh. You make me think. You make me want.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You always want what’s best for everybody else. But tonight…” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Tonight, I want what’s best for you. I want you to do what makes Amber Rule happy.”

  I love him.

  The feeling landed in her belly with a swirl of excitement. I love him. It was a huge and scary thought. And yet, her heart soared and her blood roared and Lady Land ached to make him hers.

  Backing her to a wall, Evan lifted Amber easily, helped her guide him inside, trembling right along with her as she slowly stretched to accommodate him. She took him deep, gasping at a ripple of pleasure.

  And then they started moving.

  “Ouch.” The light switch dug into Amber’s back. Sexy moment on pause.

  Evan sidestepped to the right, bringing Amber closer to the S&M tools.

  “No-no. Let’s go over there.” She pointed to the sliding glass door.

  Evan carried Amber across the room.

  Amber couldn’t stop moving on Evan’s shaft, even as she realized they were headed toward the bed. “No,” she panted. “Not the bed.”

  Evan stumbled to the right, recovering with a crushing hold on her waist. “Tell me we’re not taking a tour of the house,” he ground out.

  This was the only place they could be with her father’s pictures on display in the living room. So frustrating. She wanted him without worry. “Just…take me here. Take me against the door. Take me…anywhere but the bed!”

  “This shouldn’t be so hard.” He hitched her up and down a few times, staggering in a circle.

  They were both sweaty and gasping, but definitely not on the same page.

  “Hold onto me,” he said, walking toward corner and the built-in hot tub.

  Amber raggedly filled her lungs to protest when Evan captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. He turned, intending–she thought–to sit on the edge of the Jacuzzi. And then Amber was falling… falling… falling forward into Evan…and into the hot tub.

  Which wasn’t hot at all.

  Amber shrieked and squirmed upward.

  “Ssshh.” Evan held Amber firmly in place as the room temperature waves settled around them.

  “It’s cold.” Not that it cooled her lust, but men and cold water…

  “Baby, I’ll never be cold with you around.” And then Evan moved with a strength and delicious rigidity that made Amber realize what he must have known already–there was one place that could keep him warm.

  If you want to find out how Evan and Amber overcome the obstacles of the NBA and Hollywood, and achieve their happily-ever-after, read their story (Book 1 in the series): Playing for Love.

  Blue Rule

  Hero Featured in Book 2: Fool for Love

  Blue Rule has a nice life. He's got a job in public relations with a Hollywood movie studio and a nice sex life with some hot reality stars. But then his father dies and his sister Amber blackmails him into working with her at the Dooley Foundation. Lo and behold, his social life grinds to a halt. Now every woman wants him to fix her-and not in bed! And Amber's got an idea about a new reality show based on their work at the Foundation, featuring him as a matchmaker. Who does she want him to match up? All his really hot, slightly crazy, reality show ex-girl friends.

  Here are some previously unpublished sexy-time scenes with some of Blue’s hot, slightly crazy ex-girlfriends. First, everyone’s favorite edgy villainess, Kaya Anika.

  “I thought the mighty Blue Rule always had a date.”

  The ink wasn’t dry on the young studio executive’s college diploma, and he dared call Blue out?

  Blue plucked the price tag from the younger man’s tie and tucked it into the dude’s suit jacket pocket. “I may not have a woman on my arm right now, but I know I won’t leave alone. Unlike you.” Blue entered the lobby of Radio City Music Hall for the day’s upfront events.

  His studio was previewing TV shows to ad agencies and major advertisers. His job was to handle requests for talent appearances and interviews, should there be any. Given the studio’s summer line-up sucked, Blue didn’t expect many requests.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a purpose attending. He had yet to meet several of the network’s reality stars. One in particular stood out–Kaya Anika. She was a ballsy bitch in a petite package. He had several requests for PR with her.

  He spotted Kaya almost immediately. Her spiky red hair stood out like a tinted search light at a movie premier. He snagged a glass of champagne and approached the group of green reality stars.

  “I’d totally do Naked & Afraid,” Kaya said. “But I wouldn’t be afraid.” Her smirk dared anyone to challenge her claim.

  Blue wasn’t taking that dare.

  He introduced himself to the group. “Remember, you’re here to schmooze with advertising money, not each other. I’ll be at the table in the back if you want to talk about what the studio and I can do for you.” He handed out business cards, lastly to Kaya. “I have several opportunities to discuss with you.”

  The short, wiry redhead checked out his package, not even trying to hide her inspection.

  Blue felt the first stirrings of lust. She’d be an animal in bed, giving pleasure, but demanding pleasure of her own.

&nb
sp; The overhead lights flashed, indicating it was time for the program to begin.

  Blue moved to a table covered in a black tablecloth at the back of the hall as the lights dimmed. It may have been morning, but the bar had been open for an hour. No one was going to come by his table until the intermission, if then.

  Kaya appeared to his left as the studio chief began his welcome speech. She crossed her arms over her flat chest and gave him a sideways glance that said she was interested in more than career opportunities.

  Hers was a body without curves. Voluptuous hips and breasts weren’t a requirement for Blue. Desire was a requirement–his and his partner’s.

  Kaya leaned closer, rolling her shoulders forward to give him a view of her bare nipples. She smelled of musk and ambition.

  The studio chief was delivering scripted jokes from a teleprompter.

  Kaya smiled, but it wasn’t an appreciative smile or a polite smile. It was a Let’s Do This smile. Even better, Blue upgraded it to an I’m Gonna Do You smile.

  He pulled out the chair next to him.

  She sat, placing her champagne flute next to his. Her other hand landed in his lap.

  He jerked. His balls jerked. His dick did a double-take.

  Kaya chuckled and squeezed.

  The crowd applauded.

  Quick, unexpected sex was part of the Hollywood game, part of the game Blue took advantage of. He rolled his hips, arching against her palm, calculating how far away his hotel room was, counting how many condoms he had in his wallet.

  Kaya laughed again. She turned, bringing her lips close to his ear, digging her fingers to the base of his balls. “What is it you can do for me?”

  He tilted his head to answer. “Lots of things. Deep…deep conversation.”

  One moment, Kaya sat next to him playing pocket pool. The next, she slid beneath the tablecloth.

  Blue sat back and lifted the black fabric to see what kind of stunt she was pulling. Hand job? Blow job? Strip tease?

  Kaya held a finger to her blood red lips, lips that were grinning.

  He wasn’t going to say anything, much less stop her. He enjoyed women. He enjoyed pleasing women. He enjoyed uninhibited women intent upon pleasing him.

  There was a smattering of applause, followed by a canned drum roll.

  Kaya unzipped his slacks, reached in and set his eager cock free of his boxers. Never breaking eye-contact, she suckled his head. His Johnson grew, along with his need to fill one of her orifices. And still, she didn’t move down his shaft. She kept it shallow. It was as if she was waiting for something.

  The theme song for one of their housewife knock-off shows played.

  She swallowed him deep, leaving streaks of red lipstick on his shaft.

  Blue stiffened. Swelled. Found it hard not to move his hips in time to her rhythm.

  He glanced around, ready to drop the tablecloth and stop watching Kaya’s show. But no one was paying attention to him parked back here against a dimly lit wall. The audience was facing the other way, watching the cleavage crossing the stage. Blue returned his attention to the spikes of red hair bouncing up and down above his crotch.

  Kaya’s mouth was hot and wet. Her lip-grip tight. For such a small woman, she had no trouble taking him deep. At this pace, he wasn’t going to be lasting long.

  Condom?

  A condom now would ruin it. His doctor back in Hollywood was discrete.

  Perhaps sensing his hesitation, she stopped working him like he was a brass pole. Her brow arched and she swirled her tongue around his head.

  His dick twitched. “Finish it,” he whispered.

  She closed her small hand around him and did the corkscrew twist, flicking her tongue across his slit every time she worked her way up his shaft. And then she fell into another rhythm.

  Twist down. Twist up. Lickety-lickety.

  Blue felt the urge to uncork and fill her glass.

  She switched tactics again, taking him in her mouth and sliding two fingers beneath his balls.

  He tensed, holding on to his control.

  Kaya pressed her fingers in his ass.

  He came. No hesitation.

  She swallowed. No hesitation.

  Kaya was as hot and dangerous as her reputation. She was going to be a big reality star. She popped back up in her seat, leaving him to put himself back together.

  “Now me,” she said, lifting the tablecloth and spreading her legs.

  Blue has a long list of short-term ex-girlfriends, some more innocently sexually than others, like former child actress Portia Francis.

  Blue lit the last candle as the doorbell rang.

  Dinner had been delivered. He’d serve his date–the classy, sophisticated actress Portia Francis.

  He’d been seeing some intense women lately–more interested in jumping his bones than hearing his opinion on…well…whatever he had an opinion on. Not that he didn’t appreciate cheap, dirty sex as much as the next guy. He was just ready for something different.

  Portia was different.

  So what if she’d taken the 1940s starlet thing to the extreme. He was pretty sure it was all a show; her way of standing out among the hundreds of young actresses vying for roles in Hollywood.

  He opened the door.

  Portia was wearing a closed raincoat and high heels. Her bright blond hair was twisted to the side. Her lips were red and slick enough to glide over his cock.

  Don’t think about sex.

  This was only their third date. A classy woman like Portia, one who’d been a child star and was careful of her image, wouldn’t let him get to second base until at least a few weeks of dates.

  “I know you said you had an elaborate dinner planned…” Her voice was as silky smooth as her lips. “I was just wondering if you’d like an appetizer first.” She flung open the sides of her raincoat.

  She was naked–from her Brazilian wax to her full, round breasts.

  And she was his.

  Blue’s cock tried to stand in appreciation.

  “Blue? Do something.” Her voice had a bite to it that didn’t penetrate the hard-on fog dulling his brain. “I’m standing here where any photographer could jump out of the bushes and compromise me.” She closed her raincoat and stomped in.

  Blue closed and locked the door. “I was appreciating your beauty.”

  Having starred in her own series as a kid, Portia didn’t bare all onscreen or anywhere public. She stood in the foyer, white-knuckling the lapels of her jacket.

  “You surprised me.” He pried open the raincoat with gentle fingers. “I need a moment to just look at what most guys can only dream of.” He wanted to nuzzle the swell of her breasts and suckle those fabulous pink tits. He wanted to explore her nooks and crannies with his tongue. He wanted to make her pant and moan and open wide for him.

  But he knew Portia was Hollywood royalty. His princess would want to be swept off her feet before he banged her senseless.

  He pushed her coat to the ground, picked her up and carried her over his threshold.

  “Kiss me,” he commanded. Every princess deserved a horny and demanding Prince Charming.

  Portia pressed those slick lips over his and invaded his mouth with her tongue, thrusting hard and deep while he carried her to his bedroom.

  He laid her on top of his burgundy comforter. “Don’t move.”

  The sun was low, setting over the ocean breaking on the Malibu beach outside his window, bathing Portia in soft, golden light. He’d been wet dreaming about her since he was thirteen. Blue planned on fucking her several imaginative ways.

  But first, he took off his shirt and tie, kicking off his shoes, but leaving on his pants. Let her enjoy some eye candy fantasy before he gave her the royal treatment.

  Portia posed on the bed like a good little sex kitten.

  Blue took out a couple of condoms and vanilla scented oil from his nightstand. He straddled her. “Do you trust me?” At her nod, he dribbled oil over her breasts and down her abdomen. “La
y back and feel, Princess.” His hands worked the oil over her shoulders, her breasts, her belly.

  “Don’t call me that.” Despite her command, Portia relaxed, eyes half closed, watching him.

  He leaned over and suckled one rosy bud, gently at first and then harder.

  Her hands speared into his hair. Her back arched, pressing her hips into his.

  He rolled her over. More oil. More massage. This time, he traced his tongue down the delicate pearls of her spine.

  “Hhmmm.” A controlled sound. She probably moaned like that for her masseuse.

  Blue removed his trousers and boxers. He laid his cock along the seam of her butt crack.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, worry in her eyes.

  “Trust me, Princess.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “This isn’t a butt fuck.” The idea turned him on, but he’d never met a woman who liked it in the ass, not even Kaya. He squirted oil on two fingers and slid them between her legs. While his cock glided bareback in her crack, his fingers slid over her clit. He had her sandwiched between his hand and cock, and he was working her.

  He loved Hollywood and all its brazen pleasures. He loved fucking beautiful women, and making them come apart in loud, messy orgasms.

  His dick was lengthening, hard as a rock. Portia hadn’t come. Hell, she was barely making a sound. He didn’t think she was a virgin, but despite his massage, she was tense and silent.

  Blue flipped her on her back, rising to his knees. He wanted to pause to look at those full breasts. Instead, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and brought her hairless muff to his mouth. She tasted of vanilla and sweat. She was wet and soft and swollen, proof that her body was enjoying his touch. She was just nervous and thinking too much.

  He drew her nub into his mouth, released, sucked again. He sucked her clit like a thirsty man downs a Big Gulp. It was the key to her resolve. Portia’s hips unlocked, rolled, undulated. He tasted her juices and pressed his chin at the cleft of her opening.

  Portia shuddered, came, and shouted, “Blue!”