Wicked Wolff

by Reese Spenser

  I have been at this a few hours now and I’m grateful that it’s nearly the end. The crowd has been wonderful, patiently waiting in a long line and blistering heat. My fan base is mostly women, eager to experience a taste of France through my recipes and travel photos.

  A Taste of France. I like it for the title of my show. I make a mental note to bring it up at the production meeting on Monday.

  The last person in line is Colin Paine. He was one of the judges on I Want To Be A Celebrity Chef. Colin is a restaurateur, celebrity chef, bestselling author and Hollywood’s latest golden boy, since volunteering with the fire department helping to put out wildfires. He has saved more than a dozen lives.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t bring your book with me.” Colin lifts his bags to show me he has been shopping. “But I must say I’m a big fan.”

  “Thank you; that means a lot coming from you.”

  “Are you attending my little soiree tonight?” Colin asks.

  “I don’t think I can make it,” I hedge.

  Dorian and Colin are close friends and I don’t want to risk running into him at Colin’s party.

  As if guessing the reason for my reluctance Colin says. “Dorian won’t be there. But there will be plenty of people that you know, and maybe you will make a few new friends.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You have the details. I hope to see you there.”

  Colin says goodbye and I pack up my things, preparing to leave the farmer’s market. The drive home makes my mind up and I decide to attend Colin’s party. Partly because what he said resonates with me. I’ve been in Los Angeles four months and the only friends I’ve made are Kyle and his mom. I’d let Dorian consume me completely, leaving no room for anyone else.

  Tonight, I’m doing something to take my mind off Dorian Wolff. And charity is the best way to do that. A fundraiser to raise money for the families who lost everything to the destructive wildfires that burned across California.

  The theme for tonight’s costume party is Hollywood Icons. It was a no brainer when I chose to go as Marilyn Monroe. I’ve been watching her movies all month. The event is taking place at Colin Paine’s restaurant, and he assures me Dorian will not be attending.

  The valet takes my keys and I make my way to the entrance of Colin’s, a five-star restaurant aptly name for its owner. I’m a late comer to the party, but the fact that it’s in full swing relaxes me. Taking a survey of the room I spot four Marilyn Monroes, three Elizabeth Taylors, two Hepburns, one each, Audrey and Katherine. Most of the men didn’t bother to wear a costume. Colin waves from across the room; he’s dashing as Cary Grant.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Joel asks by way of greeting.

  He is one of the few men who chose to wear a costume, but I don’t recognize it.

  “Thanks.”

  I follow Joel to the bar and then I ask. “Which Hollywood Icon are you?”

  Joel order two fingers of bourbon, before asking what I’m having.

  “Red wine. Cabernet Sauvignon.” I clarify.

  “Theodore Wolff.”

  “Dorian Wolff’s father?” I question, even though I know it to be true.

  Theodore Wolff was an award-winning actor set to make his directorial debut. Unfortunately, nearly twenty years ago a plane crash ended his life before the film was completed.

  According to a documentary I watched recently, Dorian has followed in his parent’s footsteps surpassing them on many levels. He is one of Hollywood’s youngest multi-talented movie moguls. Although Dorian has given up acting, he has written, directed and produced many of Gray Wolff Studio blockbusters.

  “That’s right,” Joel says, reigning in my thoughts of Dorian.

  “Did you know him?”

  Joel nods. “Yes. My father directed Theodore Wolff and Isabelle Channing in the first movie they appeared in together.”

  “Crisis Averted,” I add.

  “My father still loves to tell the story about how they fell in love on the set. And how Theodore fought his feelings for Isabelle until after the movie wrapped.”

  “They were a beautiful couple.”

  “They married six months later and went on to make five more movies together. Once they got together, they were inseparable. And when Dorian came along their lives seem perfect. Until...”

  Joel trails off as if the memory is too painful to speak of. But then I notice that something over my shoulder has caught his attention. Turning around, I follow his line of vision to the entrance.

  Dorian walks into the room and I forget to breathe. It’s been that way since the moment I laid eyes on him all those weeks ago. He’s not in costume, but why would he be. He’s been an icon most of his life. Colin walks over to greet him and whatever he says has Dorian looking over the crowd. When his gaze finds mine, I’m hit with an electric charge. Fighting against the magnetic pull I tear my eyes away from him.

  “I thought about waiting until Monday to mention this but now is as good a time is any,” I say, trying to regain Joel’s attention.”

  “Mention what?” Joel says, refocusing.

  “I thought of a title for the show.” I wait for Joel to ask the name; when he doesn’t, I continue. “A Taste of France.”

  “You can run it by everyone at the production meeting on Monday.” Joel smiles “But I have no objections to it.”

  My smile matches Joel’s when I hear Dorian say. “No objections to what?”

  Dorian and I stare at each other for long seconds. Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Joel is the first to speak.

  “Olivia came up with a title for the show.” Joel shares.

  Dorian’s tone is friendly, but his body language speaks to me and it’s saying something totally different. The stiffness in his broad shoulders and the tightness of his chiseled jaw has his body buzzing with tension. As if a shield has slid into place his gray eyes become almost black. Shifting his gaze between Joel and me they give nothing away.

  “Did she now?”

  “A Taste of France.” I say, finding my own voice. “I plan to suggest it at Monday’s production meeting.”

  “Has anyone else come up with a title yet?” Dorian directs his question to Joel. And for a split second I feel deprived of his attention.

  “There are a few contenders, but the final decision will be made on Monday.”

  I begin to tune them out when the conversation goes from contenders for show titles to contenders for the heavy weight title. I’m not much of a sports fan. Especially a sport where men are beating each other senseless.

  “Are we boring you, Miss Frost?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Wolff.” I lie. “But if you’ll both excuse me I’d like to mingle a little.”

  I make my way to the only other person I know; Diane Fuller, a production designer for the show. However, tonight she’s Dorothy Dandridge.

  “Olivia,” she says as I approach. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “I thought it was about time I did some socializing,” I say in response to her greeting.

  “Hell, yeah it is. You’ve been here four months, and this is the first time you’ve actually partied with us.”

  “I’m not much of a party girl.” I shrug.

  “Well in this town, a party can be as important as a premier.”

  Diane and I spend the next hour and a half chatting with Killian McCall and Paige Winter. Killian is a Hollywood actor making a name for himself starring in Gray Wolff Studio upcoming action movie, The Return of Justice. And he does a surprisingly good Bogart impersonation. And Paige, his co-star and rumored girlfriend is stunning as Lauren Bacall.

  “I need another drink,” Paige announces.

  “I’ll come with you,” Killian says. “Goodnight ladies; it was lovely meeting you both,” he says before following Paige to the bar.

  “They seem like a nice couple,” I say after Killian and Paige have gone.

  “I’m not so sure they are a couple,” Diane suggests.

>   I don’t bother to probe any deeper. I know firsthand what it’s like to have gossip spread about you based on lies. I value my privacy and wouldn’t dream of infringing on anyone else’s.

  “Something wicked this way comes,” Diane murmurs, bringing me back to the here and now. “But he just may be the reason god created men.”

  I look up just in time to see Dorian’s powerful strides arrowing toward us. His gaze fixed on me.

  “Diane, do you mind if I have a moment alone with Miss Frost?”

  “Not at all,” Diane says. “I need to find the ladies’ room anyway.” Excusing herself, Diane leave me alone with Dorian.

  “It’s hard to get you alone, Miss Frost.”

  “It’s been three weeks Mr. Wolff; I didn’t think you wanted to be alone with me again.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t want it, but I do.”

  Dorian’s confession surprises me. And it has me making my own.

  “And maybe I shouldn’t, but I do too.”

  This time when I meet Dorian’s gaze his smoky gray eyes are burning with desire. His sexual magnetism creates a vortex, surrounding me and consuming me, making me hot in all the right places.

  “Walk with me,” Dorian urges. “Away from prying eyes.”

  A quick look around the room, and nearly all eyes are on us.

  “Is it always like this for you?”

  Dorian nods and my heart breaks a little for him. I also wonder what I’m getting myself into. Hollywood and stardom were never my dream, yet here I am with a television show and apparently, I’ve caught the eye of one of Tinseltown’s most eligible bachelors.

  Dorian leads me to the terrace, beyond the view of the inquisitive guests following our every step. There are a few couples with the same idea. But they take no interest in us.

  We walk to the end of the terrace where a brick wall separates us from the others. And without warning Dorian cages me with his body, pinning me against the wall.

  “I want to taste your lips again.” Dorian whispers, resting his forehead on mine.

  Dorian’s beautiful face is hidden from me when his shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair falls forward creating a curtain. I want to reach up and tuck it behind his ears. Giving in to temptation, I slide my fingers through his silky strands.

  “I’m desperate for you,” he groans, before sealing his mouth over mine.

  I get caught up in the sensation of his soft but firm lips. And I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my throat and slides down his. The brush of his lips against my ear has my pussy clenching and unclenching with each dirty word he whispers. It’s a mind fuck I’m not ready for. I try willing myself to walk away. And when that doesn’t work, I try dousing the fire between us.

  “You’re like a dog with a bone,” I manage to say, finding the strength to push him away. “I’ve never met anyone so persistent.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” Dorian’s voice is lace with desire and exudes wild kinky sex.

  “It isn't fair.”

  “What isn’t fair Sunshine?”

  Channeling Marilyn Monroe’s, The Girl, I recite lines from The Seven Year Itch.

  “Every time I’m near you, I go to pieces. It shakes me, it quakes me. It makes me feel goose-pimply all over. I don't know where I am or who I am or what I'm doing.”

  I desperately wanted to lie, but the truth comes easy when I hear myself say, “don't stop.”

  “Then let me show you how deep I can bury my bone. I won’t stop until your sweet cum is leaking down my balls.”

  My body respond to his hard as granite cock pressing into my stomach, dampening my panties. And I wonder just how deep the gray wolf can bury his bone.

  Chapter 7

  Dorian

  I’M NOT DRESS FOR COLIN’S costume party because I don’t intend to stay. At least not until I see Olivia wearing a replica of Marilyn Monroe’s iconic white dress from The Seven Year Itch. I have avoided her for three weeks, but there is no fucking way I’m going to leave now. She looks like the sun has kissed every part of her body. And I want to be next in line for the job.

  Where the fuck is a subway grate when you need one.

  Ms. Monroe became the object of my sexual fantasy at an early age. My parents were away on location filming a movie and I stayed in Los Angeles with Elise. She was practicing lines for an audition that called for a Marylin Monroe type. We watched Marilyn Monroe movies for two days and I was hooked.

  Today Olivia has made my fantasy a reality. And when she quotes the line from the movies’ Rachmaninoff fantasy. I nearly lose my load.

  Because I need to be buried deep inside her yesterday, I want her to feel how hard I am for her. Leaning into her I press my cock to her stomach. I lift her up and instinctively she pulls her dress up, wrapping her legs around me. My cock throbs against her panty covered pussy. We dry hump like a couple of horny goddamn teenagers not quite ready to go all the way. Olivia moans become increasingly louder as she chases her release.

  “Keep quiet Sunshine; you don't want everyone to hear you.”

  “It would be easier if you didn't make it so hard.” She pants.

  “It would be easier if you didn't make me so goddamn hard.” I growl back.

  A soft laugh slides up Olivia’s throat. Slanting my mouth over hers, I capture the sound. There’s something about this woman that has me breaking my own rules. She's everything I'm not; innocent, pure and sweet, and I should be running as far away from her as I can. But all I want to do is tarnish her in so many wicked ways. Maybe then I’ll be good enough for her.

  Falling apart in my arms, Olivia finds her release. I hold her tight against my chest as our breathing return to normal. But nothing about what just happen is normal for me. Olivia unwraps her legs from around me and I miss the connection instantly.

  The residual heat in Olivia’s icy blue eyes and the rosy pink of her cheeks is evident when she stares up at me.

  “It’s hard to think when you’re standing so close,” she whispers.

  “Don’t think, just feel.”

  “And it’s even harder to breathe when you make me feel so much all at once.”

  “I can’t say I hate how your body responds to me.”

  “And I can’t be one of many,” she says, and I think I hear a hint of regret. “But I would like it if we became friends.”

  I consider my words carefully before responding, because there’s no way in hell I can be just friends with Olivia.

  “You want a man who will whisper sweet words in your ear and tell you how much he loves you.” My words are harsh, but right now I don’t give a fuck.

  “I want to be someone’s one and only.” Her defiant gaze holds mine. “I want to feel like every day holds a first kiss. Filled with possibility and expectation.”

  “I don't date the women I fuck. It's easier that way. No commitments equal no expectations.”

  “I’ve never been easy.” She sighs. “And I never learned to share.”

  “But you are eager.”

  “Yes, I am. For the right man.”

  “A man who can soak your damn panties with a caress of his breath on your ear.”

  “You think you're that man?” Olivia challenges.

  “You already know that I am and if you don’t it’s only a matter of time before you do.” I stroke her rosy right cheek before adding. “You will scream for me. You will beg for me. And you will be mine.”

  Taking Olivia’s hand in mine, I lead her to the front of the restaurant. I give the valet my ticket to retrieve my car and wait as Olivia fishes her ticket from her purse.

  “Are you okay to drive home?” I ask, remembering that she had been drinking wine.

  “Yes. I only had the one glass of wine.”

  One look at her kiss swollen lips and wrinkled dress and I can’t resist the temptation.

  “Although a real friend would make sure you get home safely.”

  Olivia sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, bats her
long lashes and says, “Yes, a real friend would.”

  Before I have time to wrap my head around Olivia’s words, before I can decipher the meaning. The valets return with our cars.

  Once Olivia is behind the wheel of her red Mercedes, I hurry to my car. There’s no fucking way she’s losing me in traffic. Leaving the parking lot of Colin’s, I follow Olivia turn for turn, never losing sight of her. Even when she picks up speed on the freeway, I’m there with her. I switch lanes so that I’m no longer behind her but beside her. Smiling, Olivia gives me a quick glance before speeding ahead. The thrill of the chase floods my veins with adrenaline, and I fall back pursuing her once again. And it makes me so fucking hard knowing that she wants to be caught by me despite her earlier declaration.

  We enter the parking lot of what I assume is Olivia’s condo. I park in the space next to hers labelled guest. She is still sitting behind the wheel when I round the front of her car. I open the driver side door and she step out. Olivia takes the lead and I follow eagerly.

  Entering her condo, Olivia turns on the lights and disarms the security system.

  “Would you like something to drink?” She offers.

  The combination of bourbon and Olivia is a heady cocktail and too much of an intoxicant. And since I can only indulge in one at a time and keep a clear head, I forgo the alcohol.

  “Maybe some water.”

  Disappearing in the kitchen Olivia return moments later with two bottles of water. She takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch. I try to hold back my chuckle when she takes a long nervous sip.

  “No need to be nervous, Sunshine.” I assure her. “Nothing will happen that you don’t consent to.”

  “I’m out of my element here. I don’t know how to behave with you.” Olivia confesses.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This isn’t me.” Olivia stands, pacing back and forth for a few seconds before facing me. “I don’t invite men back to my place. I don’t mix business with pleasure and I don’t have friends with benefits.”

  “I can tell you that I’m a million times better than any BoB.”