Hollywood Confidential

by Mel Curtis

  Maddy laughed. The sound filled him inside like warm tea on a cold night–nothing too heavy, nothing too light.

  “I have all sorts of ideas that will unfurl all those chakras Senge thought were twisted. And not a one involves the missionary position.”

  She laughed again.

  Yes, the famous Senge thought Maddy had twisted chakras that wouldn’t allow her to have great sex without Senge’s coaching. And yes, Blue’s reputation is so hot and kinky that Maddy jokes about plain, boring sex.

  She was his kind of hot, but he wasn’t interested in letting her take the lead. He planted a hand on her butt and squeezed. “I suppose you want something along the lines of the missionary position? Something Senge would label repressed?”

  “And I suppose you have something more creative in mind?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

  If she’d noticed he’d unbuttoned her blouse, she kept quiet. He spread the sides apart, exposing her to the air, to him. “When it comes to you, Maddy, I’m at my most creative.”

  She sighed as his hands cupped her breasts. Sighed again as his hands slid behind her to unhook her white bra. “I don’t suppose you have any champagne left.”

  “No tequila either.” He didn’t want her to blame this on alcohol.

  He freed her breasts by lifting her bra over her head until it was banded behind her neck. She was a tangle of clothing–bra straps and shirt sleeves circling her arms, skirt hitched high on her legs. But her breasts were free and demanded his attention.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He suckled her pink nipple.

  Maddy speared her fingers through his hair and hung on. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Don’t. Baby, don’t joke.” He cupped her chin. “I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

  She had the most wondrous look on her face, as if she couldn’t decide if she was going to laugh or cry. She did neither. She kissed him deeply, an urgent rhythm that simulated his thrusts when he was inside her. And then she moaned.

  He wanted her to moan louder, to shout out her pleasure. He wanted to sheath himself in her heat and make some noise himself.

  His hand dropped to her bare thigh, following the curve upward to… “You’re going commando?” Nice-girl-next-door, Maddy?

  He almost came in his pants.

  She framed his face with her hands. “I took my panties off when I was stuck in traffic. Just the thought of you waiting…” Her voice trailed off when he slid his fingers inside her. She clenched, cried out, clenched again, and drenched him in her juices. She was still cradling his face, staring into his eyes in wonder.

  He imagined he stared at her in the same way. “God, Maddy. I wish I had handcuffs to chain you to my bed.”

  She laughed as she unzipped his pants, and frantically helped him with one of the condoms he’d put on the table. With one thrust, he was inside, reveling in her most intimate embrace. He reached for her breasts again, but she grabbed his hands and propelled them over his head, as if he was the one being handcuffed. Again, Blue almost exploded.

  “You promised me a Freedom Transformation.” Her voice was husky, wanton.

  She held his wrists in place with one hand, riding him leisurely. With her other hand, she encircled the base of his penis with her thumb and forefinger. With each downward stroke, the pressure on the base of his penis was magnified. With each upward stroke, Maddy arched and slid her clit against her hand and wrist.

  Eyes half closed, hair in disarray, breasts full and free. She was magnificent.

  Her leisurely pace didn’t last long. They were both craving urgency. Her hold on his wrists loosened. He reached around and grabbed the straps of her bra at her back, supporting her in a deeper arch as he thrust harder and deeper and he entered a zone where one touch, one word from Maddy would make him shatter.

  Maddy bucked. He jerked. Their voices blended into a crescending aria as they came together.

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t let Maddy go.

  Deep inside of her, Blue pulsed and twitched, hungry for more.

  Fuck being fuck-buddies. He was going to have to date her. He wasn’t sure what that meant for a man like him, but he wanted to find out. “You drive me nuts, Maddy.”

  She rolled her hips forward, convulsing around him once more. “If this is how you perform on shitty days, I want you to call me when you have a stellar one.”

  “That’s a promise.”

  If you want to find out how Blue and Maddy find their happily-ever-after, read their story in Book 2 of the series: Fool for Love.

  Cora Rule

  Heroine Featured in Book 3: It’s Only Love

  Before her father died, Cora's life goal was to look drop dead gorgeous in the latest fashion and hook up with gorgeous guys. Here’s a previously unpublished sexy-time scene with Cora before her romantic journey begins. Let’s be honest, sometimes you have to sleep with a lot of frogs to find Prince Charming.

  “I’m tired of dudes in L.A.” Cora slouched deeper into her couch, propping her bare feet on the coffee table. Tank top and shorts. Booze and her best friend. The only thing better was sex. “I’m tired of hearing stories about crazy ex-girlfriends.”

  “I’m tired of chicks in L.A.” Next to her on the couch, Jeremy bumped her leg with his knee. He was demolishing a bag of pretzel sticks. “I’m tired of their parents looking at me as if they know how large my bank account is.”

  “It sucks to be a member of the Lucky Sperm Club.” She and Jeremy were both progeny of rich, successful celebrity parents. Cora’s mother was a supermodel and her father was a life coach to the rich and famous.

  Jeremy’s dad was a movie studio executive. “It sucks to want to take a girl home from a club and have sex. Just sex.” Jeremy tried to scowl, but he had one of those handsome, friendly faces that couldn’t pull off angry or brooding. He may have had a Hollywood hard-body, but he was of average height with average brown hair and average brown eyes. “And that girl I do take home? She’s thinking I chose her because we’ve got a connection.” He said this last with air quotes. “I’m not going to meet my wife in a club.”

  Not to be outdone, Cora added to the gripe-fest. “A few months ago, a guy I hooked up with filled the silence of the afterglow with a question.” Cora was surprised her voice shook with anger. She hated being used. “This guy was an aspiring actor and he wanted to know if I could get him a life coaching discount with my dad.”

  Jeremy patted her knee sympathetically and then sipped his whiskey. “People in L.A. suck.”

  “Truth.” Cora sucked salt from a pretzel stick while navigating through the On Demand menu. It was Thursday night. Their weekly movie night. It was Cora’s turn to choose the movie. “I hope we’re only griping about sex because I chose porn as the feature tonight.”

  “Nope. I’m cranky about my sexual prospects.” Jeremy set the pretzel bag on the coffee table and stole Cora’s whiskey. “Why can’t I find women who want no-strings sex? That’s supposed to be a hallmark of our generation.”

  “A lie perpetuated by the media.” Cora selected the adult flick, looking forward to the vibrator that awaited her upstairs after Jeremy left. “I hate that the media says things that aren’t true about Millennials.”

  “You know what I hate?” Jeremy’s words were beginning to slow the way they did when he got buzzed.

  “What?”

  “I hate girls who are too squeamish to swallow.”

  Cora laughed. “Do you have skanky cum?”

  Jeremy choked on a sip of whiskey and looked horrified. “Is that a thing?”

  “Yep.” A nasty surprise if you weren’t using a condom.

  Jeremy held out the waistband of his basketball shorts and boxers. “Smell me.”

  “Put that away.” Cora slapped his hands down, resisting a peek at his junk. What she couldn’t resist was a throb of interest between her legs. She tried to avoid acknowledging Jeremy as an attractive man. But his man-power still managed to hit her at the mos
t random times.

  On screen, a buxom heroine was tanning and napping in a pool lounger when the pool man arrived.

  “Smell me,” Jeremy persisted, trying to yank up his waistband again. “We’ve been best friends since the eighth grade. We have no secrets.”

  “I’m not going to smell you.” She drew his arm around her shoulders and snuggled against his chest. “Now shut up and watch the movie. The sex in this is supposed to be hot. I need to live vicariously.”

  On screen, the porn heroine woke up with a start and sat up without hanging on to the straps of her bikini top. Boobs three times the size of Cora’s jiggled for Mr. Pool Man.

  “I recognize that tone of voice.” Jeremy stroked Cora’s hair. “You got rejected. Tell me. Who wouldn’t do you?”

  “Some guy. It doesn’t matter.” He’d said she wasn’t what he was looking for. He’d implied she was a bitch and not good enough to date, much less body rock.

  Jeremy rubbed her shoulder. “I’d do you just for the pleasure of doing Cora Rule.”

  “I can’t screw you.” Even as she rejected the idea, body parts that ached for sex ached for Jeremy. They’d had this joking argument before. They’d set boundaries. “You’re my best friend. I’d break your heart.”

  “Hah. I’d break yours.” Jeremy dropped his hand from her shoulder and placed his palm over her breast. He’d never touched her intimately before.

  A shaft of heat pierced Cora’s mid-section. She pushed from beneath Jeremy’s arm and looked into his friendly brown eyes. Only they weren’t merely friendly anymore. They sparked with heat – friendship ending, awkward at social gathering heat. “Jeremy…”

  “It’d be perfect.” The same hand that had groped her breast settled at the top of her thigh. His fingers flexed toward Never-Jeremy Land. “Sex with no strings once a week. No bedrooms. No overnights. No I love yous.”

  On screen, the horny heroine asked the pool man to rub her breasts with suntan lotion.

  Cora swallowed, not moving Jeremy’s hand away from temptation. “We watch TV together once a week,” she said weakly. She didn’t want to lose her best bud.

  “That’s why it’s a great idea.” His gaze on her mouth, Jeremy inched his fingers between her legs.

  “You’d have to turn me on.” She tried to say it as if he wasn’t her type and her blood wasn’t already tingling with need.

  “I could flip your switch. You’re hot.” He pressed his pinky against her mons. “You’re the queen of hotness. And hotness makes me over-achieve when I’m naked.”

  On screen, the vixen was asking the pool man to rub suntan lotion over her Brazillian wax. She was writhing on the lounge as if on the edge of an orgasm.

  On the couch, Cora struggled not to writhe against Jeremy’s hand, struggled not to beg with a roll of her hips for a finger play. “Friends with benefits?” She used her iciest tone. “What if we were in the middle of things and I started to laugh?”

  “I’d bang you harder. Seriously, I’ve got wood. Right here. Feel.” With his free hand, Jeremy took hers and placed it on a rather impressive cock.

  Without meaning to, Cora copped a feel. She enjoyed size in her lovers and Jeremy wasn’t lacking in that department.

  God, I hope he doesn’t have skanky cum.

  On screen, the pool man had moved to the appetizer, eating what Cora hoped was edible suntan lotion from between the heroine’s legs.

  “Cora.” Jeremy moved her hand to his chest. “We know each other well enough to know that we’d make each other miserable in a relationship, but we’d be damn good together in bed.”

  Truth.

  On screen, that bitch was moaning like she was having a damn good time. Moans like that didn’t come from vibrators. Moans like that came from a skilled human touch.

  The question was: how skilled was Jeremy’s touch?

  Sexual curiosity had killed many a friendship. Or so she’d heard.

  “This is crazy,” she said. But Cora didn’t remove his hand from her throbbing lips or her traitorous gaze from his crotch.

  Jeremy twisted his hand sideways between her legs and pressed her thong into her opening with his fingers. “Let’s talk terms.” He was a management major at UCLA, which normally bored Cora to tears, but she was willing to hear what he had to say since her body was turning liquid and immobile.

  On screen, the pool man continued eating and added a finger-fuck to the equation.

  “Have you seen this movie before?” Cora asked grasping for a distraction so she wouldn’t grasp his dick. “So far it’s predictable.”

  “Since we’re such good friends,” Jeremy continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ll go down on you first. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to go down on me.” He pushed his fingers in and out of Cora, not a lot, but enough to make her pant. “If we pass that test, we bang some bones. Missionary style.”

  She snorted, coming to her senses and pushing his hand away. “Missionary is for high schoolers and the elderly.” Thank God, he had no skills or imagination. The friendship would be preserved.

  “I only said that to keep things friendly.” Jeremy was grinning. It was his goofy, friendly grin. The one that could make a car salesman forget his profit margin. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m a student of Senge Tenzing.” The sexpert to the stars. “If we get past oral, you can start out with the cowgirl.”

  “Only if you spin me.” Cora lowered her chin and raised her brow. It took a strong man to thrust and spin a woman on top.

  They stared at each other and then began to laugh.

  On screen, a virile-looking gardener came upon the two lovers.

  Cora could see where this was going. She got up and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the bar.

  “Crap,” Jeremy said. “What am I going to do with all this wood?”

  “This is the thing about friendship.” She brought the bottle back with her and poured whiskey on their melting ice. “We can do something stupid and then move on from it if need be. So…One drink from now, you’re going to blow me. One drink later, I’m going to blow you. And if you still have wood after that, the spinning cowgirl is gonna ride again.”

  That’s the event that sent Cora down the path of casual sex, a path she comes to regret during the course of the series. You’ll see how things with Jeremy turn out in Cora’s book.

  Everyone thought Cora Rule was a bitch.

  Ninety-five percent of the time, they’d be right.

  She’d learned early that her looks could get her what she wanted. She’d learned early that if she wanted something, she had only herself to rely on to get it. And so, she had few friends, no romantic relationships, and little reason to pursue either.

  But that didn’t mean she was a hermit, didn’t have a social life, and didn’t have sex. She had a couple of fuck-buddies, which suited her just fine. With casual sex, she didn’t have to be nice to a guy’s lame friends, his judgmental parents, or his boss.

  And so, when Cora’s phone buzzed with a text message, she was pleased.

  You home?

  I M free, she texted back. Then she hid her sketch pad, and ran upstairs to change out of her shorts and camisole.

  Perfumed, wearing nothing but black stilettos and a red silk robe, Cora waited by the door for Jack Gordon. He was older, not as controllable as her other sexual partners, but hotter than sin.

  The a/c came on, billowing the red silk over her breasts, bringing her nipples to taut, achy beads, making her wet.

  Jack had made millions in the dot com industry and was gambling millions on his NBA team. He was ten years older than she was and nearly ten times kinkier. She’d seen him at Amber’s wedding reception last night, but he’d ignored her. The other men she occasionally had sex with didn’t dare ignore her.

  She stood at the edge of the foyer, trembling with excitement as she listened for his truck. When Jack came to her, he came hard and horny. He was a man who knew what he wanted and how he wanted it. Never the same wa
y twice.

  A door slammed out front.

  Cora held her breath, listening for his footsteps on the walk, hard soles on concrete.

  He knocked once.

  She blew out a breath and walked across the tile slowly, knowing he’d hear her heels on granite, wanting to create the anticipation he created in her.

  Booty call-booty call-booty call.

  Anticipation buzzed in her veins. She struggled to ignore it. Failed.

  Opening the door with a hand that shook, she perused his body as if he was an unwanted interruption.

  So not true.

  She started at his feet and the expensive leather loafers he probably wouldn’t take off. Black slacks with a tell-tale bulge beneath the zipper. His shoulders extended out beneath a burgundy shirt and black tie. Hard jaw, perfect lips, strong nose, black eyes burning with desire. A single lock of ebony hair fell over his forehead, an indication that his iron control had slipped. Something had happened that he didn’t like.

  Thank God. Because she loved it when things didn’t go his way.

  He reached for the silk sash at her waist, slipping the thin fabric free and spreading her robe, exposing her. Sunshine and warm summer air embraced her skin, while the air conditioner continued to tease her backside.

  Cora spared a nervous glance past his shoulder. It was the middle of the day. She lived in a stylish neighborhood in Beverly Hills and her door opened to the street. Someone was mowing a lawn nearby, filling the air with the smell of gasoline and cut grass.

  “Nervous?” he murmured, quirking a dark eyebrow. “Should I go?”

  She’d failed his dares before and he’d left her aching. She swallowed, spreading her legs, bolstering her words with false confidence. “Touch me.”

  He slipped two fingers into her mouth. She laved and suckled the salt from his fingertips, much as she wanted to lave and suckle him.

  His jaw clenched. His black gaze dropped to the landing strip of curls between her legs.

  Yes. Reflexively, she sucked harder, reveling in the power she had over him.