Caught On Tape_A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Natalie Knight

  I nod. Carly, Scott and I will always laugh about the close call, about how everyone assumed that the rumors were false after Emma’s phone call when, in fact, they were more than true.

  That is our little secret, though, and it will stay that way.

  “I just wanted to fill you in on that,” Hull says. “Well done.”

  “Thanks Franklin,” I say. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  “One more thing, though…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know this might not be the best time, but I know you’ve been wanting to spend more time with the editorial process…”

  That’s not exactly true – I just want to spend more time at home with Scott and Carly. But whatever.

  “Yes, and?”

  “How do you feel about spending more time with the writers, and stepping down from your role as CEO?” He says, and then I just hold my breath as I think of what he’s saying. He wants me to step down from CEO? What the --?

  “That sounds…interesting. But who’d take over the CEO role?”

  “Carly,” he tells me matter-of-factly, and I don’t even know how to respond.

  “That’s…a great idea,” I reply, the words leaving my mouth before I can filter them. Carly as CEO? That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week. She’s competent, able, and she knows the publishing business like no one else. That’s why we wanted her to make her VP.

  We bet on that.

  And now she’s about to become the fucking CEO.

  “That’s settled then. We’ll discuss it in the next board meeting.”

  We end the conversation and I’m buzzing with pride. We made it. Somehow, we got through the worst and everything is going well. Maybe I should feel bad because I’ve been demoted from CEO…but who the hell cares? Carly’s CEO, and I couldn’t think of anyone better for that role.

  Now she’ll be the one fucking her employees. Huh.

  Carly comes to my office half an hour later.

  “We’re going out tonight,” I say. “To celebrate.”

  I explain to her what Hull said.

  “I don’t…I don’t know what to say,” she says and kisses me – a chaste kiss, nothing too drawn out with the door and windows open. “Are you sure? I mean…”

  I nod.

  “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Scott says, stepping inside the office and shutting the door behind him.

  “Carly’s made CEO,” I tell him, and then it just happens – we start laughing at the same time. I grab my wallet, slip him a dollar, and he does the same.

  “I guess that’s a draw,” he says, and then we just laugh as Carly looks at us with a confused expression.

  “Well, I guess I’ll make the reservations. My last task on the to-do list before I’m in charge of all of you,” she tells us with a smirk.

  We go to Café and Bar Lurcat. It’s a middle-class kind of place but I like the vibe and it is something different than what we usually do.

  The restaurant has a checkered floor and white chairs and table cloths so that it all looks stylishly homey. It’s full when we arrive and the atmosphere is bright and cheerful.

  “This is great, princess,” I say to Carly who chose the place.

  “Yeah, I like it,” Scott says.

  We order champagne to celebrate. We have good food and good wine for the rest of the night. The alcohol makes me feel good – light and airy, and horny. I want Carly.

  I put my hand on her leg under the table. She glances at me. She’s been drinking, too, and I know she feels the same. When I look at Scott he has the same idea I have. His hand is on her other leg.

  “Wasn’t there a coat checker when we arrived?” Scott asks.

  I nod. “There was…”

  “Shouldn’t we take this home?” Carly asks. “We did talk about public places.”

  “It is dangerous,” I admit.

  “But it’s a walk on the wild side,” Scott chimes in. “You have to admit that playing dangerously sometimes is so much hotter. Or did you forget about the club?”

  Carly blushes, which tells me that she hasn’t forgotten at all. It’s one of those things that keep coming up. It doesn’t bother me that it’s their inside joke. I have those too, with Carly, and we have so many memories of the three of us together, it doesn’t matter. We are a fully-fledged trio, now. We date and we are all equal.

  “Let’s go,” Carly says.

  I grin at Scott who waves at our waiter. We split the check three ways – it’s one of the things we figured out down the line – and stand up. Scott leads the way to the checking clerk, who’s young and engrossed in a book. Carly and I hang back while Scott approaches her. He flirts shamelessly with her.

  We wait, watching him slip her some money and when he turns to us and nods, the girl is blushing. I feel sorry for her – she will never be able to stand up against Scott and his charms.

  Scott slips into the closet, first. Carly follows and I bring up the rear, winking at the coat checker. She pales a little, realizing what she just agreed to cover up. We won’t make it hard for her. We will be in and out.

  I laugh inwardly at my little joke.

  Scott’s already kissing Carly, tugging up her blouse. I come up behind her and run my hands up her thighs. She shivers, her skin goosebumps under my fingertips.

  She’s wearing a skirt and it isn’t hard to reach Carly’s pussy. She widens her stance and I pull her panties aside, sliding my fingers into her slit from behind. She gasps as Scott kisses her, his hand on a breast that he pulled out of her bra. When I push my fingers into her, she moans softly and Scott takes her nipple between his teeth. She’s at our mercy and she must stay quiet, something she isn’t very good at.

  I finger fuck her a bit while Scott works over her one breast and then the other.

  I’m rock hard in my pants, aching for her. I pull out my dick and push her forward a little so she bends over. I hike up the skirt and her ass is beautiful and round, her thong a thin black like into her ass crack.

  Without pause, I push my cock into her. She gasps and Scott takes advantage of her open mouth, pushing his dick in between her lips. Her moans are muffled. It’s one way to keep her quiet.

  We fuck her, Scott pumping in and out of her mouth and me thrusting into her pussy.

  Before long, Scott pulls out and I do, too. We spin her around, giving the other a chance to fuck the hole we had. Carly braces herself on my hips with her hands and takes me into her mouth. Her body rocks back and forth as Scott fucks her, creating the motion with which she sucks me off.

  Scott reaches around and finds her clit. He does what he does best – pushes her closer and closer to the edge. I grab her tits where they’re half hanging out of the blouse and squeeze them, tugging at her nipples. It doesn’t take long before she comes. Her body shudders, her breath forcing out around my cock as she comes.

  I want to come, too.

  Scott pulls out of her and she straightens up. Her cheeks are flushed. I pull her closer to me and she presses her body against mine. I kiss her. I can taste traces of our sex in our mouth but she mostly tastes like wine and lust. I push my tongue deep into her mouth, exploring her. With my fingers, I find her pussy and she shivered when I touch her clit, now sensitive. I hike up one leg and hold her up, pushing my cock into her pussy. She gasps when I do.

  Scott is right behind her, pushing up against her and I know what he’s going to do. We pulled it off standing once before. We don’t have many options, now. Or lube, but he will make it work.

  I feel his fingers at the base of my cock as he finds some of her wetness and spreads it to her ass. I feel it as he pushes in, her ass resisting at first. She cries out, his dick sliding into her ass against mine.

  We fill her up and she breathes hard. We don’t give her much more than a moment before we started moving, fucking her, moving against each other. Her face is buried in my shoulder, her moans muffled.
We are surrounded by coats, the smell of our cologne, her perfume and our sex mingling in with the coats that hang around us. Hopefully it won’t linger.

  Carly is the first to orgasm again. She shudders, her body spasming, clamping down on mine as she cries out into my shoulder. She grabs my arm and her nails dig into my skin through the shirt.

  It makes me lose it. I come inside of her, pumping and squirting my load inside of her, claiming her.

  I feel it when Scott comes. He pumps, too, and we fill her up together. I’m pretty sure her orgasm lasts all the way through ours. Only when we are done does she stop shuddering.

  Scott pulls out and I follow suit. We tuck our dicks back into our pants, satisfied for the moment. Carly looks down.

  “I’m a mess,” she says. She’s wet all over her ass, her pussy and her thighs. She fishes for a tissue in her bag and wipes up what she can.

  “Don’t clean that too much,” I say. “We’re not done with you, yet. We just have to get home.”

  Scott looks at me with naughty expression. We watch Carly as she fixes her clothes, tucking her breasts back into her top and fixing her skirt.

  When we leave the coat check, Scott slips the girl another bill. She deserves it after what we did in there. We leave the place, headed for home where Scott and I are going to make Carly ours all over again.

  Whatever we are doing, it’s working. We will still run into stumbling blocks every day – we often do – but with the three of us we can figure it out. We have so far. Right now, though, I have sex on my mind, and nothing else.

  I want to fuck Carly again, good and hard, before curling up in bed with her, her body tight against mine and Scott on the other side.

  This is how it should be.

  Double Feature

  Ain’t no business like show business.

  And it’s time the two of us show you our business.

  As the head writer for the hottest TV show in America you need to choose between us.

  Two hot as sin alpha male action stars with the bodies of gods and the smiles to make your knees shake.

  One of us is getting axed from the show.

  And that choice is all on you.

  Having one of us will make you sigh.

  But having both will make you scream.

  How are you going to choose?

  We’re not going to make it easy.

  Each of us will do whatever he needs to keep from getting kicked out of the show.

  We’ll charm you. Schmooze you. Seduce you.

  Even fall in love with you.

  You think you have the power?

  Two rugged, cut, alpha male celebrities at your beck and call?

  Think you can tell us when to jump? Roll over? Play dead?

  By the time we’re done, it’s gonna be you that’ll learn to beg.

  Kayla

  I squeeze my stress ball in total frustration. What has happened to the day? About an hour ago, after my usual morning jog, I felt like I could take on the world.

  I was ready to put fingers to keyboard and watch the words fly onto the screen, but now I’m sitting in my office, and nothing is happening.

  My gaze travels, and I contemplate the elaborate certificate displaying my name and its various meanings, a present from my mother some years ago—one she bought during her travels to Cairo. It used to be at home, but when I took this job, with my own office and view, I decided to hang it up at work.

  According to the elaborate gold-lettered writing, Kayla has several different meanings, depending on what country you look to. To some, it means “wise one.”

  I have to say…I don’t feel particularly wise this morning. Time’s ticking, and I’m not producing.

  With a sigh, I randomly hit some keys on my keyboard so my screen no longer looks so white and empty.

  As I bring my coffee to my lips, I cringe. Can the day get any worse? I hate cold coffee.

  I bite my bottom lip.

  I haven’t produced anything this morning, and I cannot justify a coffee break already. My eyes look at the little clock in the top right-hand corner of my computer. Maybe if I write for thirty minutes, I can reward myself with a break and get a fresh, strong, and hot coffee.

  My fingers hover over the keyboard. I don’t know how long they stay there without moving. With a sigh, I rummage around the top drawer of my desk, looking for a notepad.

  Sometimes words seem to flow faster and better if I use the old-fashioned writing tools: pen and paper.

  Slowly I unscrew the top of my gold nib fountain pen. I draw a few swirly lines to make sure there is still ink in it. Good, no further excuses.

  Part of me had hoped that lack of ink would mean I’d have to duck out and buy some more. But alas, I really have run out of stalling tactics.

  And so I let the pen do the work. Suddenly, a few scenes come to mind, and I make random notes.

  “Good to see you working, baby cakes.”

  I cringe and look up, my pen stopping midword. The last word now looks more like a drunken spider walked across my page, and I curse Ed quietly.

  “Don’t call me that,” I say and look up.

  “They still make pens, huh?” Ed ignores my comment and comes up to my desk, sitting on the edge of it. He takes the pen out of my hand and pretends to examine it.

  “Or is this one a relic from the last century?”

  Instead of a reply, I pull the pen out of his hand and screw the top back on.

  “Only people who’ve been taught the craft of writing know how to use one of these,” I pause before I continue. “Oh, I forgot, you weren’t taught the craft of writing.”

  Ed is the one reason my job is harder than it should be. Ed is the bane of my existence at the moment.

  He ignores my comment and throws some papers onto my desk.

  “Some notes for you for the second half of the season. I thought I better give you a hand, since you are new to this gig.”

  If I could, I’d like to wipe that smug look off his milky face. Ed, as far as I’m concerned, is the opposite of sex appeal. His skin’s so pasty, I wonder if he ever goes outdoors.

  The expensive designer suits do nothing for his short stature and thin body. Exercise isn’t high on Ed’s agenda as well. Even the mere thought of seeing Ed in shorts and a T-shirt makes me want to throw up.

  Knowing Ed expects me to look at what he has given me, I randomly scan the pages.

  I read a paragraph here and there, and then I feel the world turn up side down. Is he serious?

  “You want me to do what?” I know my voice is no longer cool, calm, and collected; it probably rose an octave or two despite my best endeavor to sound perfectly in control.

  “What’s the matter, baby cakes? Not up to the challenge?”

  Ed has picked up my stress ball and looks at it.

  “What do you do with this?”

  “I told you not to call me that,” I hiss at him.

  Lines have to be drawn. Ed’s taking way too many liberties with me. Producer or not, I’m still the head writer.

  Slow down, my inner voice tries to warn me. Think before you speak. You are still new to this game. You are not quite there yet to throw your weight around.

  “So you want me to kill one of the lead characters?” I ask, just to make sure I calm down a little.

  Ed nods. “Sure, what’s wrong with that?”

  I take a deep breath in before slowly exhaling. Deep breathing helps me to calm down.

  “I think it’s too early in the show to kill one of the three brothers.” I pause and think. “The show is about three brothers. What’s the point of killing one of them already?”

  Although, as I think about Ian’s performance the other day, I’m tempted to grab this golden opportunity and kill him. It would almost be a pleasure.

  As I dwell on this, I start warming to the idea. Ian, if I am brutally honest, is hopeless.

  “Don’t be silly,” Ed’s voice stops me midthought.

&nbs
p; “What’d you mean?” I must have missed something.

  “The killing thing. People love to see someone get killed off. It brings ratings. You’ll see.”

  I’m still not convinced. Something doesn’t sound right about this. And why, as head writer, do I not get a say in this?

  “But the show has only been going for one season. I can’t see the point in killing one of the key characters already.” I try and make my point. “I don’t want to kill one of them already. Maybe later, maybe when the time’s right.”

  “You need to kill one of them.” Ed sounds firmer now as though no further discussion will be entered into. “The network expects it, and don’t forget who’s funding this project and with it, your job.”

  His words feel like a threat. My heart beats a little faster. I don’t want to lose this job.

  “Looks like I don’t have a choice then, do I?” I mutter and try to hide my disappointment. I had different views of how the story should progress, and it didn’t involve killing one of my characters.

  “Of course you have a choice, baby cakes.” Ed is smiling his sleazy, slimy smile now. “You always have a choice.”

  Puzzled, I look at him.

  “You can choose which one to kill off.”

  I prick my ears, and my mood lightens just a little.

  Ian, I will kill Ian.

  While his character is a great character, Ian as an actor is hopeless. I can’t understand how he has gotten as far in the acting world as he has.

  “I–” I start, but it’s as if Ed has read my mind. He interrupts me.

  “You can kill any of them…except Ian.”

  Openmouthed, I stare at Ed. Did he really just say I can’t kill Ian? Where’s my choice then?

  Before I can say anything else, Ed’s mobile interrupts the two of us. Without another word, he leaves my office, mouthing something like “got to take this.”

  When the door shuts behind him, I feel like screaming, but I refrain myself. Swear words leave my mouth, and I pick up my stress ball. Instead of squeezing it, I throw it at the large window looking out over Venice Beach.

  I push my chair back and go to retrieve my stress ball. I don’t go back to my desk straightaway. Instead, I lean my forehead on the glass and stare at the people lying on the beach, playing beach volleyball, jogging, and walking.