Dirty Lines
Blurred Lines Vol. 4
Breena Wilde
www.breenawilde.blogspot.com
Blurred Lines ~ Dirty Lines
Copyright © Breena Wilde
Breena Wilde Books
ASIN: B00EIPSSQ6
Digital Edition
This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT 84011.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by: Steven Novak www.novakillustration.com
Design copyright @2013 Breena Wilde
Interior design by: Breena Widle Books
Edited by: Clean Leaf Editing www.cleanleaf.weebly.com
Dirty Lines
Blurred Lines Vol. 4
It’s been a helluva month.
John Zane is not only her client, he’s also her boss, and he’s asked her to be the body double in a movie with none other than the “Hottest Man on the Planet”—John Cruze.
He’s the first man who’s ever cracked a hole in the ice around her heart.
John’s also gorgeous, kind, and sexy, which is bad because he’s off limits. At least until she’s fulfilled her contract with John Zane. It doesn't help that Zane is totally hot, a great lover, and occasionally has a sweet side.
It’s a glorious, sexy mess.
Cover
Summary
Start Reading
Contact Breena Wilde
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
I’m dangling over a tank of water. Hundreds of sharks circle below. Every once in a while one leaps, its ferocious jaws snapping, trying to catch me in its teeth.
I’m screaming, making my throat ragged at the effort. But I can’t stop.
A large one launches itself at me. It gets a hold of my thigh and rips me from my hook above.
The pain is searing.
And I’m falling.
Down.
Down.
Down…
My body jerks awake. Zane isn’t in the bed. I shiver as I realize I’ve grown accustomed to the weight of his body next to mine: his warmth, the way he occasionally talks in his sleep, the way he sometimes pulls me close to him as though he needs me.
I shake the cobwebs of sleep from my mind and shower.
The dream is still vivid though, and I can’t help but think about it. The reason hits me square in the face. In the dream I was bait. And I realize I still feel like bait.
I’ve always been the bait.
And when a shark finally does catch me, it isn’t going to let me go.
I can’t help but wonder if I’d want it to. More important, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like not to be bait at all.
To just be me.
Not an it, but a him, my mind nags, thinking about the two men in my life: John Zane and John Cruze.
I rinse the soap from my hair and work to wash any thoughts about them from my mind. But it’s difficult. They are very different men, but over the past month I’ve come to appreciate certain aspects of both.
John Cruze and I had one accidental night together. It was amazing. Every time I remember it my body craves more.
John Zane is the man I was supposed to be with that night. He’s the man I’ve been with almost every night since. I’m not going to lie; my body has enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.
Every fucking second.
After my shower, I get ready: nothing special, just gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt. Even though today is a special day. Extremely special. I’ll be doing one of the sex scenes with John Cruze. The idea excites and terrifies me. I have no idea what to expect. Will we both be naked? Will there be people around? The unknown is what makes me most nervous. Well, that and the way my body might respond to John in front of other people, namely Zane. Like the way my body reacted when John asked me his twenty questions, the afternoon we had lunch. Peanut butter and jelly, sugar cookies, and sex talk.
“And if I took off my pants and slid my cock in your pussy, would you let me do that, too?”
Holy shit. Nooooo! “Yes. God, yes.”
He licks his lips and moves so our knees are touching.
“If I pulled you on top of me, would you ride my cock?”
Fuck. “Yes.”
“Would you come all over it?”
Cruze and I haven’t spoken of that day since, but I can’t help but think about him, the way my body felt when he asked his questions. The way his voice deepened and his features filled with lust. The way his lips moved when he spoke as his fingers grazed my skin.
We’ve seen each other many times. In meetings, or passing each other in the hall. Every once in a while I catch him looking at me and I wonder if he thinks about me too. We talk sometimes, the basic stuff.
“Hi.”
“How have you been?”
“The weather’s beautiful today.”
“That shirt matches your bewitching eyes.” That one was my favorite. He had to be remembering our time together when he said that. Right? I mean, he’d said it to me when we fucked.
I can’t help but sigh as I pull on a pair of white socks and tennis shoes.
I hope he does think about me. With every delicious tendril in my body, I hope.
“You ready to go, Cadence?” Lincoln asks when I walk into the living area of the hotel room. His features are stoic.
“Hi, Lincoln.” I shove a piece of toast in my mouth and pick up my purse. “I’m ready.” When we get to the door, I pat him on his big, beefy arm. “Thanks for driving me every day. I appreciate it.”
His hard expression softens. “It’s my pleasure.”
Chapter 2
Lincoln drives me to a warehouse not unlike the one he drove me to when Zane and I first met. There’s a flurry of activity going on; the wall next to the door is missing. People on golf carts are driving in and out, hollering at one another. One woman is carrying pillows. Another has a bouquet of red roses.
“Wow,” I say, stepping from the limo. “Is all this for me?” I wink at Lincoln. One side of his mouth lifts but doesn’t quite make a full smile. “It’s so busy,” I whisper, trying not to sound like an overly nervous idiot. Not even I’m convinced, though.
Lincoln pats my shoulder. I’m guessing it’s his way of comforting me. “Mr. Zane has asked me to help you find your way around. He’ll be by later, but asked me to wish you good luck.” Lincoln is wearing aviator shades and I can’t see his dark eyes. It bothers me. It’s easier to tell what a person is really thinking by looking in their eyes.
I shrug. “Okay. Thanks, Lincoln.”
He turns. “Come on.” His bulky body is stuffed into a black suit. The way he moves reminds me of a well dressed WWE wrestler.
I follow, weaving in and out of rushing people. Like ants, they all seem to have someplace to be.
Taking a
deep breath, I work to pretend I belong.
The inside of the warehouse has been divided into different sections. To the right is a set. It reminds me of a luxurious bedroom. There are three walls. They’ve been wallpapered in red velvet. Black scalloped swirls split the room in half. In the center of the back wall is a bed, and I can’t help but think of John and me in it together. Above the bed is a large painting, a man and woman wrapped in a beautiful quilt. The man is kissing the woman. It’s beautiful. Sensual. On the bed is a black comforter. There are dozens of pillows on it. On either side of the bed is a small table. A lamp sits on each one.
Toward the back of the warehouse are several racks of clothes. They are separated by color: White. Red. Black. Gray. Green.
Directly across from the bedroom set is a large mirror, surrounded by bright lights. It sits on a table covered with makeup. Two hairdresser chairs are tucked near the table.
John sits in one.
His eyes are closed. A young woman with sleek black hair pats his face with a foundation sponge. The woman says something to him and he laughs.
My heart lurches as a hundred butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Will we get to kiss? I wonder.
Lincoln walks me over to John and the woman. He clears his throat. I can’t help but hide behind him. Nervous. Out of my element. I never wanted to be an actress. Technically I’m only going to be doing what I do, which is fuck men for money… pretend to fuck, anyway. But this time I’m doing it with a man I have feelings for, in front of a camera crew. I shudder.
The woman looks at Lincoln and her face immediately brightens. “Can I help you?” she asks, totally ignoring me, her gaze on Lincoln.
He steps to the side so that I’m exposed. John opens his eyes, and when he sees me he sits up straight.
“This is Cadence. She’ll be the body double for the scenes filmed today.”
John shoots me a big smile, showing off his amazing dimple. My thighs turn to jelly.
The woman sticks out her hand to Lincoln. “I’m Mindy.” Her olive skin colors and she bats her eyelashes.
“Nice to meet you. Will you be doing Cadence’s makeup?” he asks, turning the attention to me.
I’m busy pretending not to stare at John and the fact that he’s so fucking handsome I want to lick him.
Mindy pulls her eyes from Lincoln. “Have you spoken with the director?” She searches the packed warehouse. “There he is.” She moves away. “Nigel. Nigel.”
A man with thick salt and pepper hair and clothes straight out of Miami Vice turns. “What is it, Mindy?” He’d been in the process of taking a drink of coffee.
Mindy points at me. “This is the girl doing the scene with Mr. Cruze today.” She walks away from us and speaks with Nigel, the director. After several seconds and more than a few irritated looks, Mindy returns. “Okay, we’re going to put you in a wig, minimal makeup, and put you in wardrobe.” As she’s talking, she’s walking. Lincoln and I follow. I feel John’s eyes on me and it takes every effort not to turn and look at him.
Mindy pulls a lacy red bra and panties from the rack. “What size are you?”
“Size?” I ask, mortified. Does she want me to get a megaphone and announce it?
“Yes, size.”
“Ugh, fine.” I lean forward. “Thirty-four C,” I whisper.
Mindy looks directly at my chest. “C? Really?”
I snort and glance back at Lincoln, who respectfully is keeping a straight face.
“B or C. Depends on the bra.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She takes another bra off the rack and hands that to me as well. “Go over there, behind that screen, and get changed. When you’re dressed, put on the white robe hanging back there and come over to my station.”
I nod. Mindy seems to be waiting for more. “Sure. Sounds good. Whatever you need me to do.” Not like I have a choice. Zane basically commanded me to do this, and since he’s my client, and I’ve already agreed, I want to get it over with.
“Great,” Mindy says, not looking at me but at Lincoln.
When I’m behind the screen I slide off my sweatpants, t-shirt, and my underclothes, then slide on the red bra and panties. They don’t cover a lot. The C cup fits, but I stay with the B because it gives me more cleavage, and that’s good, right? I think so.
Barefoot, I put on the robe and walk back to Mindy’s makeup table. John is gone and I quickly search the warehouse for him. He’s talking to the director. Scarlett is next to him, robeless. Flaunting all of her assets in a lacy red bra and panties. It’s apparent the C cup bra fits her the way the B cup bra fits me. I can’t help but feel a little inadequate. Her body is gorgeous, curvy. I know mine isn’t bad. I’m actually proud of it. As a businesswoman, I know my product pays the bills, but Scarlett… Wow! Va va voom.
“Cool, you’re back. Sit down.”
When I’m situated Mindy brushes my hair into a high ponytail, secures it, and puts this nylon thing over the top of my head. “Awesome,” she says, taking a makeup sponge and applying it to my face.
I close my eyes.
“That’s the color,” she says and spreads it over my face. Then she brushes on some powder, plucks a few eyebrows, and takes a pencil to them. “Open your eyes,” she says, and I do. “You have really pretty eyes, Cadence.”
“Thanks.”
“Look up?” I do and she lines the bottom of my eyes. “How long have you known Lincoln?” She changes brushes and dabs my cheeks.
“Not very long,” I say and can’t help but smile. “You think he’s hot?”
She laughs. “I was that obvious?”
“Not too bad,” I say as she puts some eye shadow on my lids.
Mindy chuckles. “Open.” She brushes a little more shadow near my eyebrows, then puts on clear lip-gloss. “Perfect.” Mindy steps back to analyze her handiwork. She takes a blond wig from a Styrofoam head and puts it on me. “Do you think Lincoln would go out with me?”
I shrug. “I don’t know him well enough to answer that.” My thoughts run through each time I’ve come into contact with Lincoln. “He seems dedicated to his job. Kind. You could ask him,” I say, shrugging again.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. She adjusts the wig, all of her focus on getting my hair on right. When she’s finished, she stands. “Maybe I will,” she says, and hugs my shoulders. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” I’m staring at myself in the mirror. My bone structure isn’t the same as Scarlett’s, but with the wig and the makeup I do look eerily similar. Having blond hair totally changes the way I feel. Not any sexier, but different.
“Take off your robe,” Mindy says, breaking me away from my thoughts.
“Oh. Okay.” I stand and untie the robe, revealing my barely covered flesh. Several heads turn, including Scarlett and John. The first gives me a once over and scowls.
John winks and mouths, “Nice.” My cheeks warm. He’s wearing jeans and nothing else. His blond hair is rumpled. He looks sexy.
Mindy takes a silver can attached to a hose, flips on a generator, and inspects my body. “This is a tanning solution, but it works great to accentuate the positives and hide the negatives.”
“Negatives?” I ask, trying to keep my anger in check. My body isn’t perfect, but it’s not bad. I don’t have any cellulite. My ass is tight and lifted. “What do you mean?”
She shakes her head. “Scarlett has a smaller waist and bigger breasts. I need to make your body look more like hers for the film, so I’m going to darken your waist area, giving the impression it’s smaller. Then I’m going to accentuate your stomach muscles and elongate your thighs. Alright?”
I don’t say anything. How dare she? I mean seriously. It isn’t like I wanted this or asked for it. For fuck’s sake.
Mindy leans in. “Look, Cadence. Don’t take it personally. Your body rocks. No doubt about it. Scarlett’s body has been… enhanced, if you catch my drift. Her perfection is thanks to a skilled plastic surgeon.”
�
�Really?” I glance at Scarlett.
“Plus her diet consists of celery, mineral water, and more celery.” Mindy sprays the solution into a towel first, wipes the nozzle, and comes closer. “Tip your chin, I’m going to start with your neck.”
I calm down. Whether it’s true or not, I decide I don’t care. Being in front of the camera, looking better than perfect—it’s part of her job. It’s what she gets paid the big bucks for. “Alright.”
The first spray hits my skin and startles me. It’s cold. I take a step back and fall into the chair.
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. It’s cold.” She helps me stand, pulls the bra straps off my shoulders, and sprays them, my collarbones, and my cleavage. Then she moves to my stomach, hips, thighs, calves, and feet. “Turn around.” I grab hold of the arms of the chair and she sprays down my back. When she’s finished, I relax. “We’ll give you a few minutes to dry and you’ll be good to go.”
I can’t help but think what that means. I’ll soon be pretending to fuck John, pretending I’m loving it, and I’ve no doubt it’ll be easy. The thought sends chills through my body and I feel my nipples harden inside the lacy bra.
“Great.”
Chapter 3
“We’re ready for you,” a girl in skinny jeans and a white bra top says.
I follow her over, and it’s then that I notice three cameras surrounding the bed, lights flooding every crevice. I realize every part of me is going to be lit up, exposed. A ripple of terror shoots through me and I think I understand a little better why Scarlett doesn’t want to do these scenes.
John and the director walk over. I’m suddenly breathless with worry—about what might happen or what might not happen. Does my breath smell bad? Do I have something in my teeth…?
My pulse is pounding in my ears.
“Ready for this?” John asks, flashing his beautiful smile. He takes one of my hands in his and searches my face. “Don’t worry. What we’re going to do isn’t about sex, it’s about looking like we’re having sex.” He winks. “There’s a big difference.”
Dirty Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 4) Page 1