Twisted Passion Page 3

  "I know. I just need a little time. I just woke up."

  She pauses. "Is Jake there?"

  Heat rises into my cheeks. "Yeah."

  "Tell him to use some of his resources. The more people that stand behind you, the better off you are."

  "I'll do that."

  "And Ellie?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Prepare yourself."

  The silence after she hangs up feels like it's ringing in my head. I set my phone down as Jake's hand wraps around my waist. He presses a kiss against the back of my head. I usually melt against his touch, turning into something he can mold into pleasure, but I barely feel him now.

  "Marie thinks that I should tell everyone that I'm an addict."

  Jake snorts. "Marie is an idiot."

  "I need to do something though."

  "I'll just reach out to Marie. I've worked with friends of hers. Maybe she'll respond better to me."

  "No." Irritation gnashes its teeth in my head. "They already think I'm lying when I say I didn't call those other women prostitutes. If you run to defend me, everyone will decide that I lied about us breaking up too. It will just be another bullet in their arsenal."

  He gets off my bed, grabbing his boxer briefs and pants off the floor. "It's going to be a lot harder getting out of here. I should start now while the paparazzi is still getting their breakfast."

  I lean back onto the bed. "Jake, I'm sorry. Don't go. I know I'm being a bitch. I just hate this feeling of not being able to control what's happening around me. You're a director and you've been famous a lot longer than me. You must have this feeling sometimes."

  "Nah." He pulls on his boxer briefs. "I feel that way all the time, but it makes things interesting. Ellie, Ty LaVallee's Halloween party is tonight. We'll both be there, Anya will likely be there— we can deal with it all then."

  "Why would Anya be there?"

  "Ty and Anya go way back. They had a show together when Anya was still a teenager."

  "Maybe we should stay here until then," I say, spreading out onto the bed, enjoying the feeling of the thick comforter underneath me. "You can calm my nerves until tonight."

  "You know I can't," he says. "The only reason I was able to stay here so long is because Anna Ridle had to fly home yesterday and she wouldn't be back until eleven this morning. I thought working with scream queens would be easy, but apparently they're like every other actor."

  I roll over onto my stomach. I hate to feel needy. I hate the realization that Anya Bowline would be more likely to treat Jake better, solely for the fact that he has a lot more power in L.A. I'm a bishop or a rook, while Jake is a king and Anya is a queen. And everyone knows the queen can fuck up the board.

  "Can I ask you something personal?" Jake says. I sit up.

  "You never ask permission to do anything."

  "Now you just made me sound bad."

  "Well, that's the way I like you." I crawl toward him on my knees. His eyes flicker toward my breasts, his whole body stiffening. I love it. This may be the one thing I can control and that I have power over.

  He looks away. I sit with my knees underneath me, covering my breasts with my arms folded over my chest.

  "I was just thinking about your dad. I only saw him twice. Do you remember anything about him?"

  "My dad?" I ask. There's a feeling like a dagger between my ribs. "Why would you ask about him?"

  He shrugs. "I don't know. I was just curious. It seems like it would be a formidable moment in your life, but you never talk about it."

  "I never talk about it because I don't want to talk about it," I say, measuring each world carefully and trying to keep my voice level. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. He made his choices, and I choose to forget him. It'd be great if you did the same."

  He nods. "Okay."

  He focuses on stepping into his pants. I slide my legs off the side of the bed. I shouldn't have been so harsh. He was showing curiosity about my life and I just tore into him like he insulted me. It had been exciting when we first started sneaking around, but this scandal could be a wedge that cracks us apart. Distance may make the heart fonder at first, but it eventually becomes a ravine that we can't cross. We become strangers that wave at each other once in a while.

  "Come here," I tell him, reaching forward. He walks into my embrace. His hand touches the side of my face. I turn my face to kiss the inside of his palm. When I look back at him, I can see the desire twisted with something else— something that's tearing him away from me.

  His pants are still unzipped. I slip my hand under his boxer briefs. I feel his heat, his erection slowly growing under my palm as he kisses the side of my neck and his body leans closer to me. My own desire pulses between my legs as I stroke him with my thumb. Still, in the heat of the moment, all I can think is that this controversy could destroy more than how the public sees me. If it takes Jake away from me, I don't know what I'd do. I can't go back to Saffron and pretend none of this existed.

  He grabs me around the waist, lifting me as easily as he would lift a child. He drops me near the center of the bed. My head bounces against the mattress, but I barely have time to think about it as he lays his body over mine. His weight is enough to take the breath out of me, but he shifts some of the weight onto his elbows as he kisses right below my ear.

  "You're trying to make me late," he whispers. "You're just being cruel."

  "Well, what are you going to do about it?" I whisper back.

  "It's not what I'm going to do, but what you're going to do," he says. "Haven't you heard about my reputation? I'm a selfish asshole. I demand what I want, and I get it. I'm self-entitled. I ride my workers until they're so exhausted, they can't move anymore."

  Every one of his words sets my body on fire. There's a tattoo of a burning tree over his right ribs-- a dedication to my debut album. It leads straight to his abs, reminding me of how flawless he is.

  "Tell me what to do," I say, my request quieter than I expect.

  He slides back off the bed. He takes his boxer briefs and pants back off. When he gets back onto the bed, he lies on his back right beside me. His erection is imposing.

  "Make it worth my time," he says. "And remember my net worth because my time is worth a lot."

  Sometimes I could smack him. Sometimes I could rub up against him until my whole body was chafed.

  I throw my leg over his thighs, straddling him. No matter how many times we've slept together, his cock always looks too big for me and whenever we've had sex, I've never been the one in control. I love it when he grabs onto me, showing so much dominance over me that all I can do is fall into my own sensations. I've never been on top. I've never been in control. On some level, I know he's doing this to give some power to me, but it feels daunting now.

  He gets up onto his elbows. I give him a nervous smile, my ass brushing against his thighs.

  "Worth my time," he repeats.

  "I know, I know." I raise myself up onto my knees. I center myself over his cock and take his cock into my hand. I take a deep breath and lower myself onto him-- just the tip. Just that little bit sends my body into a frenzy. I want all of him, all of the time, and everywhere.

  I lower myself slowly, his cock filling me up completely. Since he took my virginity, these moments have always felt more intimate than I imagine they are between other people. I know that in all my broken pieces, he can seal them back together. Or he can push me to a better breaking point and I'll learn to love every shard.

  When he's fully inside me, I think of how people likely made love while their empires burned to the ground. There is passion in foreseeing your own destruction.

  His hands snake up my thighs to my waist. He tugs slightly, pulling me toward him. I roll my hips, feeling every inch of him while my clit rubs against his pelvis. I lean forward, my hands on either side of his head and my lips pressing so hard against his that it feels like his dominance has been passed on to me.

  My ass rubs against his thighs as I gyrate ag
ainst him. Our eyes are locked on each other, but I can barely concentrate as my body feels starved for intimacy. When he grabs onto my hips and starts bouncing me up and down, it should send a shock through me, but it just leads to a deeper feeling of famine. All of the oxygen could be sucked out of this room, and I'd just want his body colliding against mine.

  His hands move to my breasts and his fingers brush over my nipples like they're gold. I return to grinding against him, closing my eyes as the feeling of gratification merges with an urgent greed for more. The tension starts to peak in my body. My heart feels like the propellers on a helicopter, beating so hard, everything below it can feel its power. Every muscle in my body stiffens and my breathing comes out in short bursts, complemented by tiny moans. I push up against him, losing all sight of anything as my pussy constricts around his cock. Like the flick of a lighter, my whole body burns in flames of pleasure, sending heat and a sense of holiness through me.

  My combustion ignites him and I feel his cock shudder inside me, sending even more heat into my body. We'll always be perfect this way— one core of pleasure, divided into two bodies.

  I close my eyes as my body relaxes. I feel Jake slide me under him before pulling himself away from me. His steps are slightly unsteady as he gathers his clothes again.

  "Do you have to go?" I mumble.

  "Yeah," he says. "But I want to stay, and I will come back."

  "Will you?"

  I feel his lips against my cheek. "Wild horses couldn't stop me."

  It's not until he's gone that it occurs to me that there are much worse things and much stronger things than wild horses.

  Chapter Four

  Jake

  I never saw my parents kiss or even touch. They were surgeons who only saw bodies as something to be cut into and emotions as a distraction from logic. I used to hear about love, and it seemed irrationally stupid. It was a burden during a game of survival. It was a waste of time when pleasure came so easily in the shape of a naked woman, begging me to make her sweat.

  Now, love is the only rational thing. It's the only thing that's real, and everything else is a cardboard imitation of love, or it's just indifference. My life is divided into extremes— there is Ellie, and there is nothing.

  After I've parked my motorcycle inside the gate, I've regrettably found myself late to Ty's Halloween party. It's not something I'd normally regret, but I know Ellie needs me right now. I can only hope that she chose to come late as well.

  As I walk up to the house, it feels like I'm in a carnival. There are bright lights everywhere, everyone is in costumes, and when I say 'everyone,' I mean that Ty LaVallee's six-bedroom, six-bathroom, three-story beach house is barely recognizable with so many people crawling all over it. It's like celebrities are ants and somebody dropped some crumbs at Ty's house.

  Anna Rhymer's hand slips onto my shoulder, gripping onto me hard enough that I'm forced to turn around or risk her pouting about hurting her fingers. She's wearing black leather pants with a white wife-beater and a sash that says Bad Bitch.

  "Is that a costume or just a cry for help?" I remark, gesturing to the sash.

  "You're so funny," she drawls. She indicates to my face. "I like your makeup. I'm guessing Andrea did that?"

  "Ramón, actually."

  "Your face looks exactly like a real skeleton. The only reason I recognized you is because of that jawline and the fact that Anya bought you that shirt," she says tugging on the black t-shirt. "You trying to get her on your good side for your ex-girlfriend? Or trying to make your ex-girlfriend jealous?"

  I grab her arm, pulling her away from the walking path as Jeremy and Dahlia Abruzzo stroll by, both dressed up as mummies. Dahlia just happens to only have ripped cloth over her breasts and pussy.

  I keep my grip tight on Anna's arm, but keep my gaze on everyone else. "You can't let anyone find out about that."

  "I know, I know. Anya had me sign a non-disclosure agreement. You two didn't even date that long. I don't see the big deal."

  "The big deal is the media frenzy that would happen if anyone ever found out."

  "Especially now that she's trying to bury your other ex-girlfriend."

  "Where is Anya?”

  "By the pool, I think. I'm not her keeper. She's been real bitchy lately. If you want to earn her favor, you might have to stick your dick in her. Honestly, it would probably do us all a favor. I've heard the girls talk and you apparently know how to turn women into orgasm machines."

  "Anna..."

  She raises her hands. "I'm not going to say anything more. You two were a disaster when you were together, and I'm not someone to step into the middle of a disaster. I'm also not going to piss off Anya. If you want to do that, be my guest. I'll be as far away from the pool as possible. Good luck."

  She struts away from me. I follow her steps closely enough that she gives me a dirty look, but I move away as I reach the stairs. I skip them two at a time until I'm on Ty's patio. I move between people, giving quick nods and avoiding a quarter of the people here. In Hollywood, everyone wants a favor, and everyone wants to refuse to give favors. It's the game— desperation and denial.

  Slowly, the crowd transforms from costumes to women in bikinis and a much stronger scent of perfume. But Anya isn't in a bikini. She's in a white one-piece that contrasts nicely with her tan skin and dirty blonde hair. She always looks like a woman that has just left the beach. As she lounges on the pool's stairs with six people lingering close by, anxious for approval, and everyone else watching her, she's in her element.

  Her smile vanishes as she sees me, but she wades toward me. I squat down near the edge of the pool. Her hands end upright between my feet.

  "How are you doing, stranger?" she asks.

  "I'm fine," I say. "But I've heard that you've succumbed to spreading gossip."

  She juts out her lower lip. "Now, that's not true. It's your other friend that's talking shit. I'm just spreading the manure around. I guess we'll see what grows from it."

  "You know what you said isn't true."

  “How would you know if it's true or not? You two aren't together." She tilts her head. "Right?"

  I gaze into her eyes— hazel with flecks of green. It would be easy for her to hire a private investigator to figure out if Ellie and I lied about our break-up. She could buy the best one, and she'd know who the best one is because I introduced the two of them— Isabella Rollins.

  "I just don't think it looks good for you to be talking shit about up-and-comers."

  "She's not an up-and-comer anymore, Jake. She's swimming with the big fish. We've all had this lesson. Eventually, someone comes for the crown."

  "Nobody ever came from your crown, Anya. You just fizzled out."

  "Oh, you're so cruel." She licks her lips. "I like that about you. We should get out of here. Get drunk like we used to."

  "I don't think so."

  "Why? Because you're screwing her?"

  "Because you just gave me an idea and I need to go talk to Isabella."

  "Isabella?" she asks as I walk away from her. I pull out my cell phone and find Isabella's name in my contacts. I tap on her number. As I listen to it ring, I slip into the house. At least I know that Anya won't try to talk to me again. She might have been willing to go along with a short conversation, but she must know that if she's caught talking to me too long, everyone's secret will get out and she will be seen as a petty, older woman, threatened by the presence of a younger woman. She wouldn't mind the petty label, but the last comparison she'd want is one that concerned her age. Thirty-eight may be the new twenty-eight in the rest of the world, but here it's a star that's burning out.

  "Mr. Amberden," Isabella answers. "How’s it going? I haven't heard from you since you wanted me to obliterate Jack Ranson's career."

  "You say that like you hated doing it."

  "Oh, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I always knew that man was a garbage bag full of shit in a dumpster infested with maggots. I also enjoyed the money. If you'
re calling, I hope that means you have more money to offer me."

  "I might. But I need to ask you one question first."

  "The answer is yes," she sighs. "And before you ask how I know what you're going to ask, it's me. I need to understand an individual's behavior and have some predictive powers to do my job. Yes, your ex-girlfriend asked for my help, and I gave it to her because the money was too good to pass up. I'm sorry that you were so terrible at keeping your secret that she was suspicious in the first place and I'm sorry that you date women that are out of their goddamn minds. It's nice for me that they're rich though. You're an idiot when it comes to your dick, but it's good business for me."

  "Isabella, you are the heart of everything good and bad in this world."

  "I know. I love it. You love it. Everyone loves it except for Jack Ranson."

  "I need you to track someone down. His name is Matthew Rue."

  "Taking a wild shot in the dark— is this Ellie's father?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't actually care, but I figure it's good to ask to stimulate conversation— why are you tracking down her father? Is there going to be a teary-eyed reunion?"

  "No. In fact, I need you to avoid catching his attention at all. Someone is claiming to be him, and I need to find out if he's telling the truth. I need you to do this quickly. Within the next few days."

  "You know that's going to cost you."

  "And you know that I have the money."

  "If I was a smart woman, I'd think that you'd want to know the truth because this guy is looking for money. Why pay me if you could just pay him? If you wanted to give me money, you could just do it."

  "I don't reward shitty behavior. I do reward good investigative work."

  "Right. So, Matthew Rue, originally from that tiny town in Colorado that Ellie is from?"

  "Saffron."

  "Yeah. Okay. I'll be your bloodhound. Just wire me the money and I'll start. Make the invoice interesting."

  She pauses for a half-second before hanging up. I turn around— ready to find wherever the hell liquor is being served— when I see Ellie.