Текст книги "Child Star: Part 2 "

Автор книги: J. J. McAvoy

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

Leaning forward, I placed the glass on the table before us and rose to my feet, my back to him as I reached for the zipper of my dress, slowly working it down…

“Umm…” I paused, turning back to him completely. “I just noticed the cameras. Do you mind?”

“Of course, sorry.” He jumped, almost tripping as he reached for a tablet on the side table. He shook his head once, squinting as he tried to focus on the screen. “Done.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, moving back to him and cupping his cheek. I allowed my thumb to rub across his bottom lip. “You seem like a good guy, Mr. Gooden. Good guys shouldn’t pay for sex. You never know who you’ll meet.”

“What?” he drifted off as the drugs kicked in.

Ring.

Grinning as I walked around his furniture back to the door, I opened it to see Damon standing stony-faced, his eyes traveling up and down my body.

“Right on time,” I said.

“Take off the dress,” he demanded. I took a step back, allowing him to enter the suite.

“No.”

Frowning, he reached out to grab my waist and press me against his hard body. I could feel the bulge of him against me.

“Take it off, Blair, before I do.”

“We have a job to do, Damon.”

“Yeah, and six hours before the drug wears off. More than enough time for me to pay you back,” he whispered while one of his hands slid up my dress. My hands already were working on the buttons of his shirt as his eyes filled with lust, and he licked his lips without even realizing it.

“Damon—” I moaned into his kiss as he grabbed my thighs, lifting me up and moving me to the glass windows, in perfect view of Mr. Gooden. I shivered, feeling the slick glass on my back as he pulled down the top half of my dress. Pulling my breasts from my bra, he took one of my nipples into his mouth. My mouth dropped open as I gripped his hair.

“Yes…” I hissed, biting my lip.

He undid his pants with ease, allowing them and his boxers to give a perfect view of his ass to the camera.

“Fuck…” I gasped. My eyes widened when he thrust forward, his hard dick slamming into my pussy.

His eyes met mine, shining mischievously. We weren’t actually supposed to be having sex, but apparently he didn’t care—and that excited me even more.

“Harder,” I demanded when his lips covered mine.

This was one of my favorite sex scenes of the movie.

There was no foreplay. The screen direction simply read, “Damon fucks Blair in front of sleeping Mr. Gooden.”

I gripped his shoulders as his mouth traveled from my lips to my jaw.

“Oh!” I moaned, my legs wrapped around him as he held me in place, ramming himself deeper into me. The glass rocked and creaked behind us, but neither of us cared. We were in total sync, my breasts bouncing freely against me.

Biting my ear, he didn’t slow down. He fucked me so hard I couldn’t even make complete sentences. Just as I felt the tension building in the pit of my stomach, he came.

“No,” I whimpered when he pulled out of me. My legs were too weak to stand on my own, so I slowly slid to the ground.

“You … fucking … bastard,” I said, glaring at him and inhaling deeply through my nose as he adjusted himself.

“I said payback would be a bitch, didn’t I?” He said with absolutely no fucking shame. “As hot as you look, baby, you’re going to need to get up. We have a job to do.”

To that, I just flipped him off.

“Cut! Brilliant.” Director Zane came over to us as I lifted my bra and sleeve back up. Noah extended his hand for me but I refused it—I couldn’t touch him right now. My body was still hot and shaking. “I’m not sure what happened yesterday. But, your performance today was amazing. Just a few small notes, Amelia. I need you to try and make more eye contact with us. As for you, Noah, right now your improvising is great, but keep it to a minimum, if you know what I mean.”

They stared each other down for a moment before Noah simply nodded.

“All right, everyone,” Zane said, turning back to the crew. “We’ll break for two hours before bringing in the extra for the street run.”

When Zane was gone, Noah faced me. “We didn’t get a chance to talk this morning, when you came in with your mother? Are you okay?”

“She invited us to Ray Mallory’s dinner party tonight,” I said.

“What?”

Sighing, I nodded. “When Ollie told her we were now dating, she pretended like it was no big deal.”

His jaw clenched, and he opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Ms. London?” The redheaded costume designer, Sarah Tame, walked over with a towel and a clothing bag for me. “I was wondering if you could try on some outfits for the next scene. Mr. Sloan, I’ll be with you in a second.”

Noah nodded, quietly moving away from us and still leaving me wondering what it was he wanted to say.

“Ms. London?” Sarah said.

“Oh, sorry. Lead the way.” Turning to follow her, I made it two steps before remembering the ache between my thighs.

Goddamn him. 

Chapter Three

Noah

I had a bad feeling about this.

I knew Esther London better than most people do. She was a poisonous snake in tall grass, and if she’d rolled over on the fact that Amelia and I were dating so easily, that meant she had something up her sleeve. I just had no clue what it was.

That was the reason I didn’t even want to bother with Ray Mallory’s party. I didn’t like the man’s music, for one thing. He was an old-school rock-and-roll artist who had settled in Chicago after destroying at least one hotel room on every damn continent. The man was a fucking pig, but because he had money and fame, no one spoke ill about him—at least to his face. His party was the very last place I wanted to be.

“You look handsome,” a voice said.

In the reflection of the mirror, I saw her, dressed in a soft pink, fitted, floor-length dress, her hair curled into waves stopping right at her breasts. She looked both beautiful and miserable at the same time.

“Thank you,” I said, facing her.

Walking toward me, she reached out to fix the collar of my shirt. “You don’t have to come. I know you’re tired. We were on set all day.”

“And let you face your mother alone? I’m not heartless.”

She smiled before putting her head on my chest; “I want to be a stronger person, Noah. But how do I do that? Whenever I’m around her—even Ollie—I feel like a kid.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I hugged her to me, kissing the side of her head.

“I feel the same away around my parents,” I reassured her. “Like I’m screaming and no one can hear me.”

“Exactly. So how do you do it? How do you stand toe-to-toe with them?”

Is that what she thought? That I somehow was rising above all our issues? If anything, I always felt like I was being crushed by a sea of waves, coming up for air once in a while before being dragged back down.

“You hear me,” I said when she looked back up at me, confused. “When we were young, you always heard me when I was screaming internally. If I’m strong, I’m strong because of you.”

“I don’t want to go to this party. But I don’t want to give my mother any reason to keep pushing you,” she explained.

Whether we went or not, Esther was never going to let me off the hook.

“Then let’s go.” I offered her my arm, knowing full well that the moment we were seen out together tonight, we’d be in the media. But who gave a fuck? It wasn’t like we were hiding it, anyway.

Austin and Oliver, both dressed in black suits, were already waiting for us when we left the bedroom. Austin wore an obnoxiously loud yellow bow tie. Seeing our arms linked, he gave me a wink like I was in on his own private conversation.

Oliver pitched instructions at Amelia. “Your car is waiting. There will be press outside of Mallory’s mansion. Do your best not to answer any questions or say anything about the movie.”

“Got it. And how about you try to smile since we aren’t going to a funeral?” Amelia said, making a face as she stared him down.

Sighing, he gave in and smiled for her. “Happy?”

“My soul is singing,” she joked as we walked towards the elevator.

“Must be nice having a client wishing you to smile and be happy and whatnot,” Austin muttered beside me.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the elevator and held my hand out for them to stop behind us.

“Take the next one. I’m planning on passionately making out with her until we get to the bottom,” I said, pressing the button to close the doors on their baffled faces.

“Do I have a say in this?” Amelia asked.

“No,” I replied, spinning her toward me, my lips covering hers. Immediately her mouth opened for me, my tongue brushing against hers as she pressed her body into mine. My hands traveled down the curve of her back before resting firmly on her ass, gripping it so tightly she smiled against my lips.

“So you’re an ass man?”

I smirked. “I’m an Amelia man.”

“Good answer,” she whispered, doing her best to remove the pink lipstick from my lips before the door opened.

As she took my arm again, we walked across the lobby, certainly gathering attention and photos judging by the number of people who stopped to blatantly stare at us. Just like this morning, there were no paparazzi waiting for us. Daniel, my bodyguard and driver, was already waiting at the black Mercedes parked in front of the hotel.

As Daniel opened the door for us, she slid in first, giving me a sinful view of her cleavage before I entered.

“Daniel, how long will it take us to get to the Mallory mansion?” I questioned, unbuttoning my suit jacket.

“Not long. About ten minutes or so if there is no traffic, sir.”

I glanced over to Amelia before pulling out my phone and dialing Austin.

“Yeah?”

“Hand the phone to Oliver.”

I waited.

“What?”

“Amelia and I are going to head out first. Don’t stress. I’ll take care of her.” In more ways than one. Hanging up, I glanced to Daniel nodding for him to drive.

“You didn’t have to call him,” she said.

“Yeah, I did.” Whether I liked it or not, Oliver was part of her life. I had to at least try and cool the animosity between us if I wanted her to be comfortable.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Grasping her hand, I kissed the back of it. Leaning back, I, for the first time, noticed the large, all-glass roof that allowed us to see the city above us as we drove by.

“I love cities,” I confessed.

“Because they are never dark,” she said. My brows came together as I tried to figure out how she knew that.

“You forgot,” she replied, staring upward.

“Forgot what?”

“That I know you. You told me you loved cities when we were in Rio.”

Jesus. That was well over twelve years ago. I could barely even recall going at all, let alone what we talked about.

“You still remember?”

She nodded. “I’m like an elephant. Besides, I over-analyze everything, so I end up thinking about it for much longer than most people.”

“So you remember every conversation we’ve had?” I asked.

“Only the important ones,” she replied.

“What are the unimportant ones?”

She shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. She had this amazing ability to go from sinfully sexual to innocently sweet in zero seconds flat.

“So what else do you remember about me, Ms. London?” I asked, holding her hand.

She pretended to think before speaking again. “You are allergic to almonds, Brazil nuts, walnuts, hazelnuts, macadamia nuts, pistachios, pecans, and cashews. But not peanuts for some weird reason. You only eat egg whites and not the yolk. Your favorite color is navy blue, and you hate wearing suits. If you could show up at events in jeans and a leather jacket, you’d never complain about anything at that event, even if they served cold food. That’s another thing you don’t eat: anything that has not been on or in a stove for at least five minutes. Sushi, cold shrimp, and crabs are a hard ‘no.’ Your favorite movie and play is The Merchant of Venice. You know the whole play by heart, and your favorite line is ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’ You love Shakespeare so much you actually went to school to get a master’s degree in Shakespeare Studies.”

I had no words.

She was right—about everything. In fact, I had forgotten I wasn’t allergic to peanuts because I avoid all nuts in general and had to think about it for a second.

“Too much?” She made face like she wished she hadn’t said anything.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly. I was happy, actually, that even now, after so much time had passed, she still thought of me enough to remember all of that.

“Mr. Sloan, Ms. London, we are here,” Daniel announced, pulling to a slow crawl at the large French-styled chateau, which featured a red carpet rolling from the edge of the stairs right up to the dark wood floor. Right outside the gates was a large mob of paparazzi, their flashes so bright I could barely see.

Luckily, we pulled up behind the rest of the luxury cars parked in front of the mansion, out of the reach of the paparazzi. It was only when we stopped directly in front that Daniel stepped out to open the door for us.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Amelia replied.

Nodding, I stepped out first, helping her out of the car before buttoning up my suit jacket. We walked up two steps and both waved at the press. They were all yelling at the same time, making it impossible to hear what they were saying. Linking arms, we turned around stepping up to the house, security nodding us in without issue.

There in the center foyer was Ray Mallory, dressed in a handmade Cheshire checkered suit and an ascot and holding a cane with a lions head. His hazel-gray eyes matched the multiplying gray in his hair. He had to be in his early sixties, but all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll apparently kept him looking not a day over forty. Beside him was some young blonde who I hoped to God was his granddaughter and not his date.

“If it isn’t Amelia London and Noah Sloan!” he said cheerfully, extending his arms to Amelia, who gave him an awkward one-side hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Mallory,” I said when they parted.

“My God,” he shook his head, looking at us. “I can’t believe how you two have grown up. I still remember when everyone referred to you both as Amenoah.”

Yeah, whoever thought it was cute to mix couples’ names together like that deserves to be smacked right upside the head.

“It just might make a comeback, Ray,” the Devil herself said as she stepped up, dressed in all gold and holding a glass of red wine.

“Hi, Mom,” Amelia said, breaking away from me to kiss her mother on both cheeks.

“The London women, looking as stunning as always. What is your secret, Esther?” Ray laughed.

Blackmail, murder, extortion, Botox, and her own daughter’s blood, sweat, and tears.

“Please enjoy yourselves.” He nodded to us, turning back to greet the other guests.

“So, Noah,” Esther said, swirling the wine in her glass, “Amelia tells me you two are dating. Congrats. You are one lucky man.”

“I know it,” I replied, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Be sure to save me a dance, alright?”

“Of course.”

With that, she disappeared into the crowd, and I felt that feeling again telling me to run.

“The person I see and the person I know her to be don’t mesh in my head,” Amelia whispered as we walked.

“I know,” I replied.

That’s what makes her so goddamn terrifying.

Amelia

This wasn’t all that bad.

In fact, if I forgot my mother was here, I was actually enjoying myself.

For the most part, everyone here was well enough on their own that Noah and I didn’t have to do that much mingling. We said hello to a few people and listened to conversations that we couldn’t really care less about. I did have a few older women try to discreetly talk to me about the movie—they tittered as they confessed that they were sinners, big-time fans, and were over the moon with excitement for the movie. I couldn’t talk about it, but seeing women their age excited to see such a highly sexual movie would have been funny if I wasn’t the one they would be watching get tied up, fucked, and whipped, sometimes all in one scene.

“I’m not going to make it another moment longer,” Noah whispered, finishing off his second glass of wine.

“Me either. Let me go to the restroom, and then let’s make our great escape.”

Nodding, he moved aside as I worked my way through the sea of bodies before me. All of them were laughing and talking over each other, most of the conversations centering on the good old days.

“Amelia?” my mother called, seemingly coming out of nowhere and wrapping her arm around mine. “Where are you going, sweetie?”

She was buzzed. Great.

“I was looking for the restroom, and then Noah and I are going to leave,” I said, and she nodded, grabbing the side of her head. “Maybe you should head home, too.”

“No, I’m fine. The restroom is down the hall, third door on the right. Hopefully that couple is out now. If not, there is one on the second floor, second door.” She muttered something under her breath, but her attention was completely diverted when she saw another person she wanted to throw herself onto.

“Bye?” I said to myself, following her directions and navigating down the corridor. I watched as a couple, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes, rushed into the bathroom, the door slamming behind them.

Sighing, I turned back around, grabbing the side of my dress to walk properly up one side of the grand double staircase. Stopping midway, I glanced down at the people below me, remembering the millions of parties my mother had just like this one, where she showed off everything from the chandelier to my tap-dancing talents. It was like one giant circus, but instead of clowns and animals, there were actors and musicians.

Reaching the door, I knocked twice. Hearing no one, I opened it, but instead of a bathroom, it was a sitting area. It glowed with soft gold light that reflected off the mahogany wall, which was covered floor to ceiling in blue-black butterflies. Stepping inside, I walked toward the wall. It was breathtaking and—

“They are called Ulysses butterflies.”

When I glanced back, there was Ray Mallory, leaning forward on his cane. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Yeah. I know, they’re my favorite animal.”

“A butterfly is your favorite animal?” He snickered. “You’re definitely a new-age flower child.”

“Says the man with butterflies on his wall.”

“Touché.”

“As you may know, Ulysses butterflies are considered the most beautiful butterflies in the world. I’m hoping these aren’t real,” I said, pointing to the two dozen preserved on his wall.

“And why not?”

“Butterflies aren’t trophies, Mr. Mallory.”

“Ahh. My dear, but that’s where you are wrong. Anything is a trophy if you’re willing to pay the right amount,” he replied. All of a sudden, I felt his hand squeeze my ass.

“Mr. Mallory!” I jumped back away from him, successfully cornering myself in front of him. His grey eyes traveled up the length of me, stopping for a moment on my chest before looking me in the eye. I knew that look.

Lust.

“Sorry for intruding, Mr. Mallory. I’ll be—”

“You know, most girls grow out of that look, that innocence. But not you. How is it that you are just as beautiful now as you were when you were a teenager?”

I was going to be sick.

“Move,” I demanded sternly, no longer calm and eyeing the exit.

“Don’t be like that, Amelia. You have no idea how long I’ve been a fan.”

“I don’t care,” I growled.

As I rushed past him, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, throwing me against the wall so hard a few of the butterflies fell down around me. Grabbing my throat, he pinned me there, his face inches from mine. He reeked of alcohol.

“You should care about your fans, Amelia. You should be grateful. Unlike your mother, you have the talent to match your beauty.”

“Let. Go!” I yelled through my teeth, my nails digging into his wrist. But he didn’t even flinch.

“Go ahead and fight! You’re only turning me on, sweet Amelia.” He kissed me hard, his mouth all over my face as I kicked and scratched any part of him could as I tried to turn my head away from him.

“No!” I struggled when he started to lift up my dress, but all of the sudden he was off me and stumbling backward.

“You no good fucking son of bitch!” Noah hollered just before his fist connected with Ray’s nose.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Ray screamed, grabbing on to his nose, the blood dripping on to his ascot.

“No, but I’m about to!” Noah yelled as Ray tried to stand up straight. But Noah was pissed and kicked Ray’s bad knee before punching him again and again…and again.

“Noah, stop!” I called out to him. But he didn’t stop.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you ‘no’ means ‘no,’ you stupid fuck?” Noah yelled, not letting up. Just as I ran toward him, one security officer held me back while the other tackled Noah.

“Let go of me!” I yelled.

“Ma’am, calm down,” he commanded, not letting my wrist go as two other people came in to assist Ray as if he were made of glass or was some type of victim in this situation.

“You’re going to regret this, you little shit,” Ray had the balls to say now that someone was holding Noah back.

Just like that, a perfectly nice evening descended into hell.