by Kat T. Masen
That seems to lift Charlie’s mood. She leans her head against Lex then plants a soft kiss on his lips.
“Hey,” I warn. “No PDA at the tea party.”
Up until this moment, I had no interest in anything but fucking women. But as I look around me and see the love in this house, the three beautiful daughters and the bond that Lex and Charlie have, I question whether or not I want a life like this. Isn’t this the end goal in life, to find someone to grow old with? I know I have plenty of time. My so-called marriage clock isn’t ticking. Anyway, isn’t it all about finding the right person?
And then her face pops into my head, Morgan Bentley, the bane of my existence. The woman who left me alone with that thought planted in my head. She loves to receive.
My mind wanders to places like her sweet—albeit uptight—pussy. This woman clearly has a degree in being a cock tease.
Seconds later, I’m distracted by a vibration in my pocket. Pulling out my cell, I see a text from her.
Morgan: Meeting tomorrow with Scarlett Winters. Address to follow.
That’s all the text says. Is this seriously all I get? It’s so cold and impersonal coming from someone who’s shared intimate details with me. She’s got a hungry pussy that loves to receive. Her words, not mine.
My hand grips my cell tight, the urge to throw it across the room curbed only moments later. I don’t even respond. Screw giving her the satisfaction of knowing she’s on my fucking mind.
Focus on this—you’ll finally get to meet Scarlett.
I should be breathing a sigh of relief.
I should be bouncing off the walls.
Tomorrow will finally be the day.
But what if after all this time, this isn’t what I want?
Chapter Thirteen
It’s just as I imagined. A modern, almost all-glass home, sitting on top of the hill overlooking the Hollywood sign. It’s your typical movie star palatial mansion. There’s a large gate at the bottom of the hill, with a security guard sitting beside it. After he does his check, he allows me to drive through, up the steep driveway until I reach the main entrance. I park my car, admiring the huge fountain that sits proudly in front of the property.
The door is tall, made of frosted glass. I ring the doorbell to be greeted by the housekeeper. She ushers me into the sitting room, which opens onto a back patio which overlooks the pool. The infinity pool sparkles in the backyard, and everything about this home screams Scarlett Winters—movie star.
Morgan is nowhere in sight, and throughout her text messages, she made no reference as to whether or not she would be here today. I didn’t want to push her, this meeting is about Scarlett. I wait patiently in the sitting room, staring at the glass cabinets showcasing her awards. Rows and rows of statues and plaques rewarding her for her acting. Oscars, Golden Globes, the list goes on.
“Talented, isn’t she?”
I turn around. Morgan’s standing at the entrance of the room. Her face appears distant, eyes worn out like she’s been up all night. Wearing a sleek black dress, she places her keys on the glass table.
“It appears so,” I acknowledge, moving my attention to Morgan.
“She should be here any minute,” she says plainly, void of any emotion.
“About yesterday…” I trail off.
“I get it.” Staring straight at me, without blinking, she says firmly, “You were frustrated. You want to meet Scarlett and move forward with the project.”
“Yes... I mean, no. Morgan…” I move closer to her, her body now only an arm’s length away, “… you never answered me about yesterday. Why did you cancel our meeting?”
“I said I had—”
There’s chaos at the door, followed by the sharp click of heels on the marble floor tiles. Scarlett walks into the room, followed by three other women behind her, rushing around like nervous servants.
“Oh,” she exclaims, following with a playful smile. “So, this is Mr. Mason.” She walks to me, extending her hand as I shake it politely. She’s everything in real life that she is in the movies. Beautiful with flawless skin and perfectly styled platinum-blonde hair. Her signature lipstick has been applied to perfection, not a single smudge or mark out of place. With a body like hers, she manages to pull off a white jumpsuit with gold strappy heels which make her look exactly like what she is—a movie star.
This should be a jaw-dropping moment for me. Yet, something isn’t right. My jaw is perfectly holding up without any desire to move. My dick stirs slightly, but I wouldn’t consider the stir anything of value to talk about.
“Very nice,” she says without breaking eye contact. Her eyes are blue, however, washed out, almost gray looking. “Has Morgan been kind enough to show you around, offered you a drink?”
“Actually, she just arrived, but I’m fine, thank you.” I smile politely.
“Well, then please, let me give you the grand tour.” She motions for the housekeeper. “Esmerelda, please bring drinks out to the back patio.”
I follow her lead as she shows me around the house, giving me a tour of each room, what they represent in her life, along with the artwork. The house is even grander than it appears on the outside. Each room large and filled with plenty of furniture and art pieces. She conveniently shows me her master suite, something I normally would have welcomed. Especially when she eye-fucks me, describing how her bed was made by some new designer and has all these fancy things it can do.
I keep quiet and pretend not to notice the silver pole at the entrance of her closet. Okay, maybe there’s been a pick up in the pace of the stirring. She must detect my curiosity too, and she’s quick to mention she installed it after playing a stripper in a movie. I’m well aware of that movie. What fucking guy isn’t? I have to admit, she’s charming, and you can’t help but fall in love with her, figuratively.
She ushers us to the patio where Morgan takes a seat beside her. She’s awfully quiet, not saying much as Scarlett talks on and on about the movie she’s shooting.
“You’re very busy, Miss Winters. Hard to get a hold of,” I tell her.
“Please, call me Scarlett,” she responds with a twinkle in her eye. “Sadly, I’m not home as much as I’d like to be. Aside from the hectic filming schedule, there’s constant photoshoots and endorsements. Now this book. I don’t know where I’d be without Morgan in my life.”
There’s a sense of admiration in her voice for Morgan. Surprising me, I had expected a diva-like movie star that bossed her assistant around and demanded unreasonable things.
“I’m sure you’ll manage fine, Scarlett,” Morgan adds with a thankful smile.
“Please, half the time I have no idea what day it is,” she says with a slight chuckle. “I just roll with the punches. One minute you’re hot, and the next minute you’re not. That’s the business we call show.”
I laugh. “Something tells me you’re always hot, Scarlett. At least, that’s what the media seems to portray.”
“I’d say don’t believe everything you read. But sometimes, more often so, they’re spot on. Though my love life seems to be their weakness. Any man I’m seen with is apparently in my bed as well,” she tells me. “Did you hear the latest? I’m apparently carrying George Clooney’s baby. It’s the price I pay for eating that burrito during a work lunch. Bloated stomach and work colleague equals pregnant homewrecker.”
“Scarlett, you know it’s rubbish and they will do anything to sell those magazines,” Morgan scolds her.
I’m surprised at the tone Morgan takes with Scarlett, almost berating her. Equally surprised that Scarlett brushes it off like nothing.
“Please excuse, Vee. She’s always at the press for spinning lies. Ever since I can remember, she’s fought hard for me.”
“That’s a good friend you have by your side,” I mention, then pause, confused. “You called her Vee? Is that some sort of nickname?”
Morgan stiffens, and Scarlett doesn’t change her carefree sing-song attitude. “It’s just a nicknam
e. Her name is really Violet. Beautiful, isn’t it? I don’t know why you want people to call you by your middle name.”
Violet. I’ve heard that name before—Violet Winters.
The wine I’d just swallowed lodges in my throat, creating a gurgling sound. “Your sister?”
Scarlett looks from me to Morgan, surprised by my forward comment. “You didn’t tell him?”
“It wasn’t something he needed to know,” Morgan answers in a stiff tone.
What the fuck? Of course, I should have known that. All this time she was hiding the fact she’s Scarlett’s sister? What else is she hiding? God, here I am, pining for Scarlett, looking like a goddamn fool. No wonder Morgan’s defensive around me. She was—and still is—protecting her sister.
One of the ladies who had followed Scarlett in interrupts our conversation and requests Scarlett take a call, leaving Morgan and me alone. The second the patio door closes, my body turns like a possessed man, demanding answers. “Why would you keep that a secret from me?” I grit, clenching my jaw to curb the growing anger inside me.
She brushes a speck of dust from her black dress, answering in an artic tone, “You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t ask because it never occurred to me,” I almost yell.
“Well, it’s not a big deal. So, I’m her sister.”
I stand, frustrated. Again, running my hands through my hair like a crazed lunatic. “I don’t get you, Morgan.”
“Noah, you don’t need to get me. You don’t need to even think about me, okay?”
I move back to the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not stupid, Noah. You have a personal interest in Scarlett. When you’re hot you’re hot, right?”
Our eyes battle as if we’re playing some sick twisted game, neither one of us backing down. Scarlett walks back in, apologizing for her absence. With lunch being served, our conversation is forced to the backburner. Yet, the whole time Scarlett speaks, my head is elsewhere. Trying to make sense of the argument that just occurred. Morgan seems unaffected, quietly listening to Scarlett speak. But maybe she isn’t, the food on her plate is barely touched, yet the glass of champagne completely empty.
Throwing myself into work, I discuss with Scarlett how we expect to roll out the book launch, a little bit about the party, and a few in-store signings which have been scheduled to precede the launch. She appears to be keen on what’s presented, throwing in a few of her own ideas.
“What do you think?” she asks Morgan. “Will my schedule allow for it?”
“We can rearrange a few things,” she says simply.
Esmerelda, the housekeeper, cleans up the table which prompts Morgan to finish the meeting, citing she needs to be elsewhere. Scarlett stands up. Giving her a quick hug and avoiding my eyes, Morgan says goodbye to me then leaves the area in a rush.
“I probably should be going, too,” I suggest with the hope of catching Morgan outside. “I’ve got a ton of work to do back at the office.”
“Here’s my direct number.” Scarlett hands me a piece of paper, placing it in my hand longingly. “Don’t be afraid to call. I may be busy, but I’ve always got time for a handsome man like yourself.”
I smile politely, shocked that I don’t stick around to see how much time she really has. With my goodbyes said, I bolt outside to where Morgan’s parked toward the side of the property. With the sun hiding behind the clouds, the side entrance is dark, covered in massive bushes that protect the property from the paparazzi.
I’ve learned my lesson, and this time, I don’t call her name. Instead, I reach for her arm, willing her to stop so we can talk.
“Noah, don’t,” she begs, trying to wriggle her arm away from my grip
I turn her around to face me, both hands latching onto her arms. Refusing to make eye contact, her gaze is fixated on the ground.
“What is this, Morgan? All this lying. All these games,” I demand answers, furious and momentarily I’m beyond words. “I don’t do well with women treating me this way.”
“What way, Noah? Should I just take my clothes off and beg for you to fuck me? Is that what you’re used to?” She forces a laugh and waits for my reaction by tightening her lips.
I didn’t expect that. She makes me sound like some goddamn pimp.
I let go of her arms angrily. “You don’t know me. And you’re awfully quick to judge me based on what? Huh?”
“Based on many things,” she blurts out. “Noah, I don’t know what it is about you. But I know your type. You like women. Many women. Not one woman. Or perhaps, my sister could sway you.”
“I don’t care about your sister,” I half lie.
“C’mon, Noah. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’ve met her. You have her personal number, right? I need to leave.” She presses the remote, unlocking the car.
“Morgan, stop.” I slam the door shut, resting my hand on the glass to block her from entering. My body is almost touching the back of hers, so close I can inhale her sweet scent. I close my eyes for only a moment, trying to get a grip on my body’s reaction to hers, and just when I think I can control my desire to touch her, I lean in and whisper in her ear, “I think you want me. In fact, I can bet my life on it.”
“Noah, you don’t know what you’re talking about…” she trails off.
“When you’re hot, you’re hot.” And with the words escaping my mouth, I turn her around until our faces are an inch apart, and slam my lips onto hers kissing her deeply, pressing her body against the car. She tastes beautiful, and when my tongue finds hers and glides with ease, I hear her moan into my mouth, arousing my cock as I press hard against her.
She struggles out of my grip, pulling her head away as she takes a breath. “I can’t do this. I want to... but I can’t,” she begs through a moan.
“You have no choice,” I whisper back to her. “I want you. And when I want something, I’ll do everything in my power till it’s mine.”
“Noah…”
“Don’t fight me. No more games. Tomorrow, I get to meet the real Morgan Bentley,” I demand, my hands still clutching her arms.
“Okay,” she murmurs, her posture rising slightly as if the weight of the world has lifted off her shoulders.
I release my grip and run my finger along her bottom lip. Her innocent stare into my eyes does something unimaginable. Something I can’t quite figure out. Something that makes my heart thump really loud, almost beating out of my chest.
I know this isn’t a good sign.
My heart’s in the game.
Fuck! It definitely isn’t a good sign.
Chapter Fourteen
I let go of Morgan, allowing her to drive off and think about my words. Even surprising myself. That kiss. Fuck. It left me craving more of her. It’s times like this I need my own place, my own room, where I can jerk off for hours, or better yet, bring her back and fuck that beautiful body of hers.
The longer the drive back home, the longer it allows my thoughts to linger on her. What the fuck is it about her that does this to me? Confused by my own feelings, I hit dial on my cell and call on Dr. Kate.
“Wazzup!” she barrels through the phone.
“Is every conversation going to start this way? You’re like fifteen years too late,” I complain.
“Oh, boo you. Anyway, what’s going on?”
“So, I met Scarlett tonight—”
“OMG! Are you serious? What’s she like? Is she as beautiful as she is in the movies? Are her tits real or fake?”
“Yeah she is, and quite nice.”
“Nice? Are you talking about Scarlett Winters or my nanna?”
“I kissed Morgan,” I blurt out, unsure as to why.
“Oh…” Kate goes quiet for a long while. “French kiss or Aussie kiss?”
“Excuse me? Aussie kiss? What the hell is that?”
“A few of the Australian guys that I bunked with when I was younger used to say it a lot. You know, a kiss down under,” she hints playfully.<
br />
I let out a laugh. How I would desperately love to give her an Aussie kiss. In fact, now it’s all I can think about. Damn Kate.
“Thanks for the visual. I’m pretty much going to go home and jerk off to the thought of an Aussie kiss. Oh, wait . . .” I exaggerate, “I can’t... because I’m staying in a zoo.”
“Charlie would sooo kill you for saying that.”
“Nope, she calls it a zoo and she’s the zoo master,” I joke.
With a huge sigh, I release my frustrations. “I really need my own place.”
“Sorry. Maybe you should surprise Morgan. Knock on her door with a bottle of champagne and a trench coat with nothing on underneath.”
“Firstly, I don’t know where she lives. Secondly, men don’t do that. Free-balling is not cool. At least free-balling under a trench coat.” I turn the conversation to a more serious tone. “Kate, what does this mean? I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl. But she pissed me off. I was so angry at her for one… flaking on me, and two… the fact that she lied about being Scarlett’s sister.”
“She’s Scarlett’s sister,” Kate exclaims. I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay, so here it is. You won’t like what I have to say. You only want her because she doesn’t want you. You’re always used to clicking your fingers and getting a woman in bed. She obviously has something going on and you’re not that person. Let it go, and if she wants you, she’ll make it happen.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Of course, you don’t,” she roars. “Because it means you won’t get laid like right now. What about Scarlett?”
“She’s a movie star, Kate.”
“Uh-huh... just not Morgan, right?”
I let out a frustrated breath, as Kate yells out loud, “You fucking wanker. Stop honking your horn you goddamn knob.”
Pulling back to save my eardrum, I wait until her rant is over. It goes on for another minute or so, her profanities never cease to amaze me. Then, she gasps down the phone line, “OMG guess who just texted me?”