“You’re gonna come for me,” Stark says, and I know I will. My body is a live wire, tingling all over from the fucking I was just subjected to, so when he starts gently stroking my clit, I sense that it won’t take long. Within seconds, though, his finger slides lower and slips inside me. As he stares intently into my eyes, he strokes my inner wall and confidently, assuredly locates my G-spot. This man obviously knows his way around a pussy. I can’t begin to imagine how many women he’s been with to become this skilled.
Never taking his eyes off mine, he works me into a frenzy. I moan softly when the index finger of his free hand gently touches me between my breasts. As that finger traces down my body, slowly traversing my belly, I feel the orgasm start to build. I stare as deeply into Stark’s eyes as I can, and I can unquestionably sense he’s feeling the same physical and emotional intensity.
With my G-spot being stroked like that and the anticipation of that index finger eventually finding its target, I almost start to come before he even reaches my clit. As soon as he touches it, that feeling of being at the apex of the roller coaster arrives and I’m about to let go.
“Not yet.”
It’s not a suggestion.
I hold back, frustrated at my orgasm being halted before it could even start.
“Relax,” Stark says, firmly but softly. “I’ll tell you when.”
What the hell? He expects me to restrain myself from coming until he gives the go-ahead? I’m not even sure I can physically do that, then his fingers simultaneously ease off ever so slightly. He’s still touching both spots, but lightly. My orgasm hovers there, unwilling to retreat, but not allowed to proceed. The tension builds and I moan, quietly at first.
“That’s a good girl,” he says. “Let me know how badly you want to come.” A loud, involuntarily moan escapes from my lips. Fuck, he knows exactly how to push my buttons.
I grip Stark’s wrist as he continues to circle my clit, and my other hand touches his chest, feeling the thrilling hardness of his muscles. Time is suspended and my entire body is ready, perched precariously at the edge of a waterfall, just waiting to fall.
“Now. Come for me.”
Although I was waiting for it, I’m surprised when my body explodes with the most intensely pleasurable shock waves I could possibly endure, cascading one after another. Nothing at all exists outside of my orgasm, as if my entire being is composed solely of contracting muscles. Still looking into Stark’s eyes, I hear myself moaning like a crazy person as he visually coaxes every last spasm out of me. Just at the instant I can no longer stand it, he eases up, still touching me but avoiding the most sensitive spots.
When he finally, slowly slides his finger out of me, I’m a puddle of pure bliss. We have one last moment of our long-locked gaze, and I’m the first to break our silence.
“That was amazing.”
I’m surprised to see a look of reluctance on his face. He was there with me just moments ago, I could feel it. Now I sense him rapidly pulling away.
“Good,” he says. “Now get dressed and get the fuck out of my house.”
The words hit me like a punch and I can feel them in my chest. He can’t be serious. Mere seconds ago I was his, physically and emotionally, and now he’s saying he doesn’t want me?
“You’re joking, right?” I ask. If he’s not, I’m in big trouble.
“No. It’s your turn this time. Put your clothes on and leave.”
He’s not only serious, he’s out for cold, hard revenge.
I’m strong, though, and will not give him the satisfaction of drawing tears. Without a word, I stand and put on my clothes under his watchful eye. I leave my shredded tank top on the couch and slip into my hoodie.
When I’m dressed, I walk to the foyer. I put on my shoes, then turn to him. He’s still rooted to his spot in the living room, his flawless half-naked body taunting me.
“You’re an asshole, Mason,” I say. Although I make it sound like I’m calm and collected, I’m unraveling on the inside.
“Maybe so, but at least I had the courtesy to get you off before dismissing you.”
21
Mason
I watch the door close and can’t help but feel a bit bad for her.
But not too bad.
Even if she hadn’t tried to go back on her word regarding our bet, Claire still deserved it. She’d done the same damn thing to me in her office less than a week ago. Revenge is sweet.
I tell myself that any feeling of remorse, slight as it is, comes from the fact that in both cases, the sex itself was outstanding. Lying on that desk as she did her thing was one of the hottest moments I can remember experiencing, and I’ve experienced a lot. And just now, she took the hardest fucking I could give her and was ready for more.
So kudos to Claire for being a great lay. I’m eagerly looking forward to her spending a week here with me soon.
A short time later I’m lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. This is par for the course when I’ve had either an exhausting or exhilarating day, and today was both. My dismay at the Variety article was offset by coming up with a devious scheme to both resolve the Texas Flood conflict and win my bet with Claire. I made a shitload of money for myself and two of my best friends, then to cap off a truly memorable day, I had amazing, intense sex and repaid my rival for that dirty trick in her office.
As I toss and turn, my mind keeps coming back to Claire. She was understandably irritated when she showed up demanding answers, but that was because in the course of a few hours I’d not only managed to undo a plot she’d pulled off, but I also benefited greatly from it. Then she got really pissed off when I explained that I’d actually won the bet and she still owed me my reward.
Even after all that, though, there was something going on between us. Claire is smitten with me, like she has a middle-school crush. The look in her bottomless blue eyes as she practically dared me to dominate her was no accident. I was hoping to make her think twice about the stunt in her office, but there was no regret whatsoever on her part. She was obviously into what I was doing to her and how I was doing it. Claire relished being dominated like that, and just thinking about it again gives me a raging boner.
I already respected her as a business rival, and there’s no doubt she’s an incredibly sexy woman. Now I’ve learned first-hand that she’s awesome in bed. As I struggle to get to sleep I imagine the things I’ve been thinking about doing to her when she finally owns up to her debt. Although I fantasize about performing the same debauched acts, they now feel different. I recall our interaction at Pastiche when we first made the bet, the poking and prodding each other. I had that same exact feeling that night in her office, then again tonight in my living room.
Since I ended my last committed relationship a decade ago while still in law school, I’ve had a long string of women. Some I dated for a while, and many I just dated once, fucked them, and moved on. Quite a few I even fucked without bothering to date them at all. Of course, the quality of those women has increased as I’ve accumulated more Hollywood wealth and power.
None of them, though, has had the combination of brains, beauty, and sheer raw ambition that Claire has. I recognize that I’ve always been a little taken with her, admiring her from a distance while she fearlessly built her agency at the same pace I was building mine. For a woman to do that in Hollywood is phenomenal. The more I think about her, the more I realize that Claire Jarrett is remarkable in nearly every way.
It happens gradually, but just before I finally fall asleep, I come to understand what it is that’s bugging me.
It’s simple: I no longer think of her as a rival. After the last few weeks, she’s much more.
Even worse, I actually like the thought that she’s into me because I feel the same about her.
I’m not sure what to think about that.
* * *
When I open my eyes it’s already ten in the morning. I call the office and let Bella know I’ll be in after lunch, then check my voicemail. Ja
ckie confirmed that she’s already received Cheyenne Parris’s signed contract and that everything we discussed in her office yesterday is now carved in stone.
Fantastic. I didn’t want to tell Drake until I had every last duck in a row, but now I can give him the good news.
As I shower, the thoughts about how my relationship with Claire has changed keep coming back to me. I attempt to rid myself of the distraction by jerking off while remembering what I did to her on my couch last night, but it does little to get her off my mind.
I make sure Drake is home and tell him I’m dropping by. His mansion is only twenty minutes from mine, but those are an important twenty minutes during which the houses I pass get increasingly larger.
Allie is there and the three of us sit in the nearby breakfast nook. My best friend is still rightfully concerned about the Variety article, but that changes when I tell him the good news, he and Allie are both ecstatic about what I’ve managed to do. There are good vibes all around, and I can’t help but brag about the other part of the equation.
“The best part is that I won my bet with Claire Jarrett,” I say.
Drake looks at Allie, and neither of them seems as happy for me as I’d expected.
“What?” I ask.
Drake’s reply seems out of character. “You’re actually going to go through with that?”
I hold my ground. “Absolutely. It was a fair bet, and I won.”
Allie stares across the table and says, “So you won the bet. Don’t be a dick about it.”
Did Allie just call me a dick?
“It was a fair bet. Had I lost, I’d have paid her a million bucks and painted her damn toenails. She willingly accepted my terms.”
“Regardless, you don’t want to humiliate her,” she says.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
Allie looks over at Drake, who gives voice to her thought.
“Because you really like this woman,” he says bluntly.
I frown at my friend.
“You know it’s true,” Drake says, then breaks into a laugh. “Your fucking face lights up every time you talk about her. It’s embarrassing, dude.”
Before I can respond, my phone dings with a text from Bella, reminding me about a meeting scheduled later in the afternoon. I conveniently use the text as an excuse to make my exit.
“Um, I’ve got to run. I forgot I have a meeting in half an hour.”
22
Claire
Friday morning bright and early I’m at my desk, refreshing my browser every five minutes to see if the new Variety article has been posted yet. Samuel English called me yesterday for quotes, after he’d already talked to Cheyenne and Mona.
I was a wreck when he called, still reeling from Stark’s vicious actions the night before. I didn’t see any of this coming a month ago when I sat across from him in Trident’s conference room, despite his crude comment about Jackie. The fact is, I became quite fond of him that night at Pastiche, when we made the bet. He was fun, engaging, smart, handsome, and as I learned later, exactly the kind of lover I’ve been craving. I even took the day off yesterday and just lay in bed, watching stupid reality shows to try to forget about what had taken place between us the night before.
I push him from my mind and refresh the website again. Still nothing, but there’s a new article about a proposed merger between two popular indie production companies, Mental Image Studios and Thunder Strike Productions. I’ve worked with both of them in the past and though I hadn’t thought of it before, this combination makes perfect sense. They will instantly grab prestige and power that would have taken them years to acquire on their own. The new company, cleverly dubbed Brainstorm Films, will be able to take bigger risks with their projects, and consequently reap bigger rewards. I buzz Brian and tell him to send a single basket of gourmet goodies, along with a note of congratulations telling both of the owners they might as well start learning to share immediately.
Once that’s taken care of, Stark jumps back into my mind. Try as I might, I can’t focus on anything else. Even though we’d both been trying to out-do each other with our business scheming and plotting, it seemed like we were becoming more than mere rivals. I was really starting to like the guy and got the impression he felt the same.
To make matters worse, the way in which he ravished me on his couch was something right out of my deepest sexual fantasies. All my adult life I’ve longed to be taken by a man that way — especially a man so sexually skilled. If only he hadn’t been such an utter asshole at the end of it.
I think back over the events of the last month, trying to see how we reached such a painful stage. Stark had started it by fucking Mona just to show me up. After we made the bet, I’d repaid him by seducing him in my office, then leaving him hanging after getting what I wanted out of it.
I suddenly get it.
Stark wasn’t insulted by my using him for sex, then dismissing him. He was hurt.
That has to be the reason.
He insisted on getting revenge not to one-up me in our rivalry, but so I would feel the same pain I had inflicted on him. Sure, he wouldn’t admit it, probably not even to himself, but he and I bonded over the previous few weeks and by the time we had our dinner date, I was already developing feelings for him. It’s only logical to think he was doing the same for me. Then I coldly kick him out of my office just to make some kind of misguided statement.
What have I done?
I refresh Variety’s website for the umpteenth time and see the top headline has been updated.
Finally! Parris, Manning to Get Equal “Texas Flood” Pay
I quickly read the article, written by Samuel himself – a rarity these days. He does a splendid job of making it sound like this outcome was the result of a concerted effort by a group of industry people who firmly believed in equal pay for actresses. No one reading it would suspect that almost everyone involved had ulterior motives. The article plays down the idea that things will change overnight because of this, but acknowledges that it’s a significant first step.
Stark actually did the impossible, masterfully setting this up in a matter of hours. It’s truly remarkable, and I have to tip my hat to him, even if he does apparently despise me now. I consider sending him a congratulatory text, but hold off when I remember I should still be angry over how he treated me.
Or should I?
I don’t have the luxury of sifting through my feelings because calls start pouring in. The rest of my day is spent taking congratulations, talking to reporters and doing phone interviews for radio and podcasts. One surprising effect of the article is the number of calls the agency receives from actresses investigating the possibility of changing representation. Though it was never his intention, Stark is actually putting money in my pocket again.
By the time I collapse at home later, I’ve made a decision about this bizarre relationship he and I have, the one we started without even realizing it.
Despite the fact that I’ve grown to adore Stark, I’ll have to forget about that aspect of our situation. No flirting, no dating, and definitely no sex. It won’t be easy, but I’m a strong woman, and I can force myself to give up a possible relationship with a wonderful man, seeing as how it was never meant to be in the first place.
Mason Stark is a business rival, and that’s what he’ll stay.
23
Mason
The hubbub created by the announcement in Variety lasts for days, and I’m so busy I don’t have time to think about much else. I receive numerous congratulatory phone calls, emails and texts, and while I accept the plaudits for my small part in the matter, nobody is aware that I’m the one who put this whole brilliant plan together.
They’ll also never know that it’s a scam. Cheyenne Parris and Drake Manning will not be paid equally for Texas Flood, though she is getting a seven-million-dollar raise and this will benefit actresses in the future.
No, only five people — me, Jackie, Drake, Link, and Clair
e — know that Drake will actually earn a hell of a lot more, and all of us have a vested interested in keeping it a secret.
Ah, Claire. It’s been a week since I fucked the hell out of her, then casually kicked her to the curb. I’m experiencing two entirely different emotions about my behavior that night. On the one hand, it was justified and deserved, and it felt great to take my arrogant business rival down a peg. On the other, I have some guilt about it because by that point it seems like there was more involved than just our little rivalry. As it turns out, feelings can get in the way of revenge sex.
I’ve begun to think it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to date Claire. You know, see where things lead. Every other time I’ve felt like this about someone, I always had a problem with the idea of being with only one woman, so I usually demanded that we continue to see other people. Sometimes the woman agreed, sometimes she didn’t. If she agreed, it never bothered me if she slept with someone else, because I knew was doing it as well.
With Claire, I know I wouldn’t want to take that approach. If I were to date and sleep with her regularly, it would have to be monogamous on both sides, because there’s no way I would risk losing a woman like her just to keep my pussy options open. The idea of locking myself into a one-on-one relationship with someone that great in bed doesn’t bother me.
That’s not the problem, though.
I can’t overlook the fact that she’s a business competitor, and having any kind of relationship with her apart from a friendly rivalry would simply never work.
Then there’s that fucking bet. I honestly don’t know which of us won, because it all boils down to a matter of semantics: salary or overall pay. Neither of us recorded the exact wording of the bet, so it can never be proven one way or the other.
Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 2: Mason Page 12