by Anne Oliver
This was what she needed. Pure release. With a man who knew what he was doing. Mitch had never done this properly and he’d certainly never been this enthusiastic.
Jack’s head moved a little from side to side and Brooke almost screamed. That slight movement had his tongue hitting every G-spot she had. She wanted more...she needed more. She was building fast.
‘Don’t stop,’ she moaned, pushing herself closer and closer to him.
He didn’t stop. His movements became more frantic. His tongue started to move in and out and up and down and then he made a low, growling noise that she felt reverberate through her whole body.
That did it.
The orgasm started down low but once it took hold Brooke couldn’t stop it. It grew inside her like a werewolf howling at the moon till she felt it burn through her veins, up her stomach and into her arms. Her whole body shook and still he didn’t stop. She felt him suck and the orgasm shot through her again, even more powerful than before.
‘Stop, stop! You have to stop.’
She pushed on his shoulders, trying to get him to release her. She was swollen and sensitive and her brain felt as if it were about to burst.
With one last tender kiss, Jack moved. He looked up, his face flushed and his eyes glowing.
Brooke didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her body lay in satisfied pleasure.
‘That was...that was...’ She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t explain how good she felt.
Then she felt him next to her. His arms weren’t on her, but he lay next to her. His skin was still wet but she was hot so it felt good.
Brooke lay panting for a few more minutes before she turned in the sand to look at him. He had one hand behind his head and was staring up to the moon, but he turned when she looked at him. A slow smile spread across his face.
‘Feeling better?’
‘Much better.’
Brooke shifted and spread an arm across his chest. She felt him immediately stiffen beneath her so she withdrew her arm. Even after what had happened he still didn’t want her to touch him. She should have been offended, but she was too relaxed and relieved to feel anything but curiosity.
‘Why don’t you like being touched?’
‘I do. I was enjoying you touching me earlier.’
He was smiling, but she wasn’t fooled.
‘That’s different. You don’t like anyone hugging you or putting their hands on you. You get nervous when I touch you. Like right now—you went stiff when I tried to cuddle you. And today, in the hospital, you hated that I was holding your hand.’
He was quiet and Brooke turned to face the moon, wondering if he’d answer.
‘I don’t like insincerity.’
‘Touching is insincere?’
‘It is when you hardly know someone. I just don’t understand why you would want someone that close to you.’
‘Because it feels good. Because everyone needs physical touch. Because people like to feel loved and cherished and they want people to show them.’
‘I just don’t like lies.’
That made Brooke turn. ‘That’s hilarious, coming from you.’
His eyes met hers. They were hard and challenging. ‘I may be an emotionless, indifferent, unfeeling, apathetic bastard—but I’m not a liar.’
Brooke laughed. She couldn’t help it. There clearly was no one who could abuse Jack better than he could himself. ‘You’re a bit hard on yourself, lover.’
Jack propped himself up on his hand and looked at her, his smile back. ‘Lover? Is that what I am?’
‘Yes. You are. If you think we’re not going to do that again you’re wrong. That was...you were...magnificent. And I don’t think you’re emotionless and indifferent and unfeeling and—what was the other thing?’
‘Apathetic.’
‘Right. Apathetic. I think you’re passionate and thoughtful and you care more than you think you do.’
Jack didn’t take his eyes off her. He watched her watching him and Brooke started to feel an uncomfortable feeling settle over her. As if she was thinking too much about him and wanting too much of him. But then she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. Brooke held her breath as his hand slid down her arm to her waist, where it rested. She knew what this was. Jack’s form of post-sex snuggling.
Brooke sucked her core in tight. She didn’t know what it meant, but it made her nervous. Something was happening and she was very afraid it was another thing she wouldn’t be able to control.
TEN
Today the men were arriving. The tone of the show was about to change. Testosterone was about to be introduced, meaning more aggression, more competition and even more drama. Perfect. Just what the show needed.
Jack sat watching the reel Mick had edited so far. It had the lot. Dramatic scenes, backstabbing, lots of flesh and a few tears. His blood was running hot. He was sure this time he’d have a hit. He’d managed to find that perfect combination of personalities and format. This show would be a success and then he could get out. For good. Away from this lifestyle, away from these people and away from the rumours.
But Jack’s shoulders were still tense and tight. This wasn’t over yet. But—surprisingly—he wasn’t worried. Far from it—he was excited. He was fired up. He kept shooting questions and suggestions at Mick. He wanted to watch the reels again and again. He felt buzzed, as if he’d spent the night drinking coffee. But he hadn’t. He’d spent the night alone in his bed. Not sleeping, but being kept wide awake by the memory of two green eyes, a petite body and a pair of thirty-two B breasts.
Brooke Wright shouldn’t be stuck in his head. But she was. The way she tasted when he kissed her salty skin. The way her frantic kisses made him feel bigger, stronger and needed. She was desperate for him, angry and crazy, and he shouldn’t even be thinking twice about her, or that kiss, but it was stuck in his head. She was stuck in his head and he couldn’t shake her. And somewhere in the night he’d had an epiphany.
‘It’s good, Jack, but...’
‘But what?’
‘The female audience are not going to like the men calling the shots.’
‘No, they’re not. Which is why we’re switching it up. The women are going to determine the challenges.’
Mick didn’t move. He was waiting.
‘We’ve been concentrating too much on drama for getting our ratings, Mick, but we were wrong.’
‘We were?’ Mick asked quietly.
‘We were. We need to focus on emotions. On relationships. We need the drama to come from the way the women feel. If we leave it up to the men this will all be about ridiculous and demeaning challenges. That’s surface stuff. We’re going to dig deeper—and who better to dig deeper and get to the core of something than a woman?’
Mick stayed silent.
‘The women will determine the challenges—they’ll make the men work for them. They’ll force the men to talk and to feel and to try harder. That’s good TV.’
Mick breathed in through his nose quickly, then released it slowly. ‘It’s risky, Jack. It’s harder to capture emotion on tape. It’s harder to edit. It’ll take longer, and it’ll cost more.’
‘But it will make better TV and that’s the point.’
Jack waited. If Mick didn’t agree he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He respected Mick. His opinion was like gold in this industry. He’d been around for ever, had seen everything. He knew what worked and what didn’t. And Jack wanted this to work. Not just because he believed in it but because it was the right thing to do. He’d forgotten what TV shows were about as he searched for ratings and audiences and advertising dollars. Storytelling. Emotions. Human reactions. And that was what he needed to get back.
‘Let’s give it a go.’
Jack breathed out and slapped Mick on the ba
ck. Today was a good day.
* * *
Jack paced his office floor one more time. The sound of Brooke’s heavy breathing in his ear rang through his brain. He thought of the feel of her skin under his hands, smooth and wet. His chest actually hurt, thinking about her. He was seventeen again and finding it very hard to control himself. He’d tried not to think about her, tried to distract himself as he sorted out the last of the male contestants and rewrote the format. But it wasn’t working.
He found himself reaching for his car key, determined to drive over there and find out what she was thinking and if she’d changed her mind about being friends. But he stopped himself. She didn’t want more. If she did she’d have contacted him. She’d have let him know. But she didn’t. He had to get that through his thick head.
With the editing done it was time to get to the penthouse and start getting the girls ready for the big scene later on today. Meeting the men. And letting them know that they—the women—were now determining the challenges. He was looking forward to it, but more than that he was looking forward to seeing Brooke again. Which he knew he shouldn’t be.
Ever since they’d met he’d known there was something between them. A little spark of sexual energy that he’d thought would go nowhere. She had seemed too uptight to do anything like she had the other night. And the other night she had been anything but uptight. No—stop. He had to shake this off. He needed to go for a workout, a run—or maybe go and have sex with a beautiful stranger. Anything to get Brooke and her green eyes out of his head.
But he didn’t want to have sex with anyone else. He wanted to finish what he’d started with her.
He drove silently through the city and back over the bridge to Manly. The sun was out and burning even brighter today. A perfect Sydney Sunday. Jack hadn’t felt this fired up in years. Today’s shoot was a big one. The girls were spending most of the day in hair and make-up—getting styled for the big meet-and-greet this afternoon. The men were being bussed in at three. This scene was important. He needed to make sure there was enough sex in the air to make it spicy and enough tension to have everyone almost wetting themselves in anticipation.
He didn’t usually get this involved in the day-to-day of any show. But this time he was determined to be there every step of the way. This time there would be no mistakes like last time.
A flashback of the fight scene ran through his mind. If he had been there he would have stopped it from getting out of control. The scene had rated well, but the complaints afterwards had seen the show pulled off the air and millions go down the drain. His father hadn’t been impressed. Jack had dreaded the call from his house in Italy.
‘How the hell did you let that happen, Jack?’
Useless, stupid idiot...should have known better than to leave you in charge...
It had been his father at his worst.
The names and jibes hadn’t bothered him. He’d already heard everything his father could possibly call him throughout his life. But the way he’d felt afterwards had. He’d been used. Manipulated. He’d assumed someone needed him and they hadn’t. He should have known not to get so close. But he’d been younger then. Filled with ridiculous heroic tendencies. Now he was older and knew that getting too close always ended in disaster. You couldn’t trust anyone.
He could see some of the girls up on the balcony as soon as he pulled up. He’d collected twelve of the most beautiful women in Australia for this show. Blonde, brunette, redhead—they were all gorgeous. But none was more stunning that the woman he was now trying to forget.
* * *
Brooke’s chest hurt from the rapid beating of her heart and her dry throat itched. She checked the clock. Ten minutes till Jack Douglas arrived. Ten minutes till he walked through that door, all smiles and cockiness, and ten minutes till all her pride disappeared. Her entire insides felt as if they were going to come up out her throat.
Why the hell had she done that the other night? Why the hell had she let her emotions turn into something she really didn’t want? Before, Jack Douglas had been a player, but she had had his number. She’d been driving the bus. But now she’d kissed him. She’d opened her legs for him and pushed her nipples wantonly into his mouth. Now he was driving the goddamn bus and she wanted to get off.
It had been three days since they’d had fun in the sand. He’d taken her home. Kissed her goodnight, then left. She’d waited to hear from him—sure he’d felt something. But clearly he hadn’t. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him and now she felt stupid. He’d been drunk on tequila that night. He hadn’t really wanted to do that and he didn’t want any more. He’d made no promises, but she’d assumed. She’d assumed he wanted as much as she did. And now here she was—disappointed and angry and feeling like a fool.
Breathe. Deep breaths. That was what she needed.
Around her nervous excitement was almost making a fog in the air. The other girls were sipping champagne and their voices were getting higher and higher. The men were arriving today. Their competition on the beach had been a warm-up. A prelude to the real competition. She suspected the producers—or Jack Douglas—had wanted the girls to bond and make friends before the men arrived. That way, when they started getting their hearts broken and getting rejected, their responses would be even more dramatic.
She knew what he wanted. A few ‘That-Bitch-Stole-My-Man’ moments. Great TV. But an awful, awful thing to create. Did the man have no shame? No. Of course not. He didn’t even know her. He’d known she’d had too much to drink. He’d known she was angry and upset and he’d taken advantage of her. He had no morals. No idea of consequences. Just as she’d assumed, Jack Douglas was a take-whatever-he-wanted kind of guy.
And in ten...no, eight minutes he was going to walk through that door, throw her a knowing wink and shatter her confidence. Which was something she didn’t really need. Not now the men were arriving. Twelve tall, handsome men. Twelve men and one perfect match. Twelve men she wouldn’t even get a look-in with. Because she would only be able to go on dates with them if she won the challenges—and she never won anything.
If there was ever a time she’d needed to talk to her sisters it was now. She needed Maddy to calm her down, Melissa to tell her she was awesome, and Melody to... Well, Melody would just ignore Brooke’s problems and talk about her own. But that would be fine! At least Brooke wouldn’t have to talk about her own problems then. She’d be distracted and she wouldn’t keep checking the clock...
Seven minutes. She started to pace. She joined a small circle of three women in the lounge. She needed to find her Zen. Jack could throw whatever he wanted at her, but she was going to remain Zen. Breathe.
‘I wonder if they’ll be hot?’ Katy looked at the other girls anxiously.
‘Of course they’ll be hot. They don’t put fuglies on a show like this. Who wants to watch fuglies?’ Alissa was back to her normal self and completely over her near-drowning experience.
‘I don’t care what they look like. I’m after a man with a good heart,’ another girl said.
‘What about you, Brooke? What are you hoping for?’
Brooke almost spat out her sip of water—she didn’t trust herself around alcohol any more.
‘What?’
‘What are you hoping these men are like? What’s your perfect match?’
Her perfect match? Jack’s face swam in front of her eyes. His muscled body and those tattoos that skipped all the way down his arm to his wrist. She remembered how good it had felt when he’d finally let his palm run over her arm to her waist. Then, when it had travelled back up and his thumb had rested on her bottom lip, he had kissed her. Long and hard and deep.
Everything in Brooke’s core suddenly went hot and heavy. He wasn’t her perfect match. He was careless and thoughtless and he hadn’t called in three days. She hated him.
Brooke shifted her eye
s, aware of the cameras all around them. There were even more than normal here tonight. Set up right in their faces. Waiting for every word. Brooke smoothed down her skirt and shifted. She was wearing a Wright Sports watch tonight. She moved her hand, trying to get it into the shot. That was what she was here for, she reminded herself—not to meet her perfect match!
Everyone was waiting for her response. She checked her watch. Three minutes. What was she going to say? What would her sisters want her to say? What would be the best thing to say for the sake of the business? What could she say that wouldn’t make her look like a fool in front of the man who was now making her armpits feel like the inside of a Swedish sauna?
‘My perfect match is a nice cup of tea and a piece of chocolate cake.’ She smiled.
The women laughed. Except for Katy.
‘No, really, Brooke—what are you looking for?’
Brooke glanced at her. Katy knew. She knew Brooke was avoiding the subject. She wanted the truth.
Katy had been up when she’d got home the other night, and even though Brooke hadn’t told her what had happened Katy had known something was wrong. She’d been asking her for days if she was OK.
‘It was a joke, Katy.’
‘You’re so funny, Brooky,’ said Alissa, giving her an embrace.
Katy didn’t say any more. Brooke’s shoulders relaxed. She still missed her sisters, but somehow these women had become her temporary family. She wasn’t even as angry any more. The girls had begun to recognise when she was firing up and now they helped her calm down. Backed off. Gave her food. Told her a joke. She’d even started to enjoy herself.
Until she saw a camera and realised that none of it was real. Just as the other night hadn’t been real. Nothing Jack had said or done had been real.
Except that orgasm.
Brooke folded her legs tighter as heat surged there. That had been real—and unbelievable—and the most stunning orgasm she’d ever had. And, although it annoyed her, she wished she could feel it again. But she knew she couldn’t. That was over.