Talking Trouble

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Eventually, I think we both might last more than a couple of minutes,” Lysander said. “You’ll have to bear with us while we move through this can’t-wait-to-stick-my-cock-in-you phase.”

  “Lasts f-forty…years,” Flint said.

  Mollie laughed and her heart swelled with joy because they were talking of a future together.

  “No one could look at you and not want you wrapped around him,” Lysander said and dropped his mouth to her breast.

  “And you can…cook chips.” Flint licked her other breast. “Be our slave?”

  “No, you be mine,” she said.

  “Ah, Mollie. How perfect you are.” Lysander’s eyes glistened and Mollie felt a surge of—Oh God, it isn’t lust. It’s more than that.

  Lysander rolled on a condom, positioned himself over her body and looked at Flint. “No one’s touched my arse since you.”

  Flint’s eyes widened.

  “So take it easy,” Lysander said and turned to stare at Mollie.

  “Don’t take it easy,” Mollie whispered. “Hard, fast, furious.”

  Lysander shuddered. He pressed the head of his cock against her folds, arched his hips and pushed his cock inside her. Mollie gave a deep groan and widened her legs to wrap them around him.

  “Flint,” Lysander said. “Ticking clock here.”

  She watched their faces in turn as Flint eased his dick into Lysander, her muscles clenching at the increased pressure. Flint was breathing heavily and he stared at Mollie with half-lidded eyes, a small smile on his face.

  “Going to move?” Lysander asked. “Do I have to do all the work?”

  Neither guy moved. Mollie clenched around Lysander’s cock and bucked up as hard as she could. Both guys laughed.

  “Oh, you little monkey,” Lysander said.

  He thrust into her, ramming his hips in hard to drive his cock as deep as it would go. Flint held her legs against Lysander’s hips and began to dictate the pace. It was as if both guys were fucking her. The pressure in her head began to build. The faster they moved, the more Mollie loved it. Sounds broke in Lysander’s throat, echoing sounds coming from Flint. Mollie arched her back as she came, her entire body contracting in time with the muscles of her sex. Lost for just a moment in her own world, she was bathed in ecstasy as orgasm swamped everything, a series of tight dramatic contractions that swept through her body.

  “Oh God,” Lysander gasped. “You—fuck—can’t… Arrgh.”

  He couldn’t be any deeper inside her but Mollie felt as if he was trying to drive his cock up to her heart. He didn’t know it was already there.

  Flint came first, his fingers tightening on her legs as he stiffened and cried out. Then Lysander’s cock convulsed inside her as he shook and Mollie wished there was no condom between them, wished she could feel his cum spurting deep inside her.

  She was dimly aware of them cleaning her up. They lay on either side of her, arms around her, mouths close to her cheeks, and Mollie’s last thought before sleep claimed her was a hope that this never ended.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  By the time the jet landed at London City Airport, Flint was jittery with anxiety. Even Mollie’s hand around his hadn’t helped. Nor had the time he’d spent practicing a few sentences to say to Weston Davies, just in case. Flint was desperate not to lose the part in Turning Circle. He instinctively knew it was the role of a lifetime. But if he didn’t get away with feigning a sore throat, he’d be in trouble.

  “It’s okay,” Mollie whispered as the plane taxied.

  “Not okay.”

  Apart from worries over the film he wanted to do, and the way Edge would be received by the critics, he was going to be in front of cameras, journalists, his co-stars from Edge and a whole load of celebrities who’d been invited to the premiere and the party, plus his fans and members of the public. His state of mind hadn’t been helped by Ryker oh-so-helpfully repeating his concerns about the rumor mill, which had Flint recovering from addictions to cocaine, alcohol and sex. Flint glanced at Mollie and she gave him a reassuring smile. Lysander sat on the other side of the plane watching them. They were his addictions. Mollie and Lysander. He wasn’t going to give them up.

  Ryker got out of his seat and knelt on the one in front of Flint. “We’ll go to the hotel with Weldon’s suit. He and Mollie can come and change before everything kicks off. We’ll leave the hotel at six-thirty, arrive at seven-fifteen. The doors open at six-thirty so we don’t want to arrive too soon. The shorter the period of time you’re in front of the cameras the better. Film starts at seven-thirty. Party at Jacaranda’s afterward. Show your face and leave. I’ll spread the word you have a severe throat infection.”

  He glanced at Mollie’s hand where it clasped his and looked at Lysander before turning back to Flint. “What the three of you get up to in private is your own affair. The moment it’s not private it becomes my affair. You can just about get away with being gay, though your fans will sob into their pillows, but this—is something else. Be very careful.”

  “I’m shopping with Lys…ander and Moll…ee,” Flint said.

  Ryker let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ll be mobbed.”

  “I’ll wear a cap.”

  “As if that’s going to make a difference,” Ryker said. “Come to the hotel. We’ll have some lunch and talk about what the fuck we’re going to do if you don’t get back to normal before you’re wanted on set for Turning Circle.”

  “Shopping,” Flint repeated.

  He locked eyes with Ryker and Ryker gave in. “Fine. Just don’t open your fucking mouth.”

  Ryker gave the hotel details to Lysander, as if he didn’t trust Flint to keep them, and also handed over two tickets for Jean-Paul and Aden. They were coming down on the train after lunch and would go straight to Leicester Square.

  * * * *

  Max took Ryker to the hotel before dropping the three of them outside Selfridges on Oxford Street. Flint put on sunglasses and his first purchase was from a cart on the street, a black baseball cap saying I love London.

  He’d thought Mollie was going to enjoy trying on dresses but he quickly saw that wasn’t the case. She looked good in everything she tried but there was no smile on her face. He exchanged glances with Lysander and frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Lysander asked her.

  “They’re too expensive,” she whispered.

  “I’ll pay,” Lysander said.

  She tensed. “No. I’ll pay, but I don’t want one of these. I can never wear it again.”

  Lysander pulled her into his arms. “Sweetheart, no one wears these dresses twice. Everyone’s going to be wearing this sort of dress.”

  “Even the men?”

  Flint laughed.

  “Where do you want to get a dress from then?” Lysander asked.

  “Somewhere like…Monsoon.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go.”

  Flint garnered some inquisitive looks in Selfridges, and he suspected a few members of staff guessed who he was. The number of assistants milling around had increased so he was quite happy to go somewhere else before they started asking for autographs.

  In Monsoon, Flint lingered in a corner near the changing rooms, wondering how long it would be before someone recognized him, but no sooner had Mollie gone into a cubicle with an armful of dresses and a couple of pairs of shoes, did she come out and make for the till. He heard her tell the assistant she was going to a film premiere and she sounded so excited a lump formed in his throat. God, I hope the film is as good as I think it is.

  Moments later, they were back in Max’s car and heading for the hotel. Flint thought about the fuss Corin had made on one occasion he’d gone shopping with her—the demand for champagne, the curt way she’d spoken to the assistants, the length of time it had taken her to make up her mind, asking him if the dress made her bum look big. He hadn’t fallen into that trap even though he’d been desperate to say yes.

  He’d tried to take a peek in Mollie�
�s bag but she wouldn’t let him. He didn’t mind what she wore though he worried the press would make fun of a chain store purchase. Flint wanted Mollie to feel comfortable but suspected comfort was low on the list of priorities for most of the women who’d be there tonight. They wanted to look hot in the most glamorous designer gown, and if that meant almost falling out of it, then that was fine.

  “Lunch?” Flint asked.

  Lysander nodded.

  But when they walked into the hotel, Ryker was waiting and whisked Flint away.

  “I hope you bought her something suitable,” Ryker mumbled as he guided him to the lift.

  “She bought it.” Flint had tried to pay, so had Lysander, but she’d shot them such a fiery glare, they’d backed off.

  When Ryker opened the door of the suite, Flint saw Corin sitting by the window. She jumped to her feet and rushed over.

  “Flint.” She threw her arms around him and he wriggled free.

  Flint tossed his hat and sunglasses on the side table and sat on the couch in front of a range of sandwiches.

  Corin dropped in the chair opposite. “How. Are. You?” she said in a loud, slow voice.

  He gave a heavy sigh. He grabbed a plate and picked out a few sandwiches.

  “Is he like…stupid?” she whispered.

  “What? More than usual?” Ryker opened his laptop and sat working at a desk.

  “Arggh…gag…uuhh…gagaga.” Flint tried to add drool to that monkey impression but failed.

  Corin cringed. “Oh God.”

  “He’s pulling your leg,” Ryker said. “All you have to remember is that he has a severe throat infection and has been ordered not to speak.”

  “How’s Anton?” Flint asked in as normal a tone as he could manage.

  Her face went utterly blank, as if she’d just been asked to multiply two by two. Flint waited expectantly.

  “When are you coming home?” she eventually asked.

  “Home?”

  “To the flat.”

  “Not. I need my things…”He struggled for the word. “Trans…porting.”

  “Why?”

  She couldn’t be that dense. He nearly dropped his sandwich when she moved to sit next to him and put her hand on his knee. He lifted it off.

  “When you’re better you can move in properly,” she said.

  “No. Tried to tell you on plane but too…difficult. End of us. Stop. Done. Long over.”

  Her eyes widened and tears glistened. “You’re breaking up with me?”

  Flint swallowed a mouthful of smoked salmon and cream cheese. “We were over in…Crop…Crit…Cr…Cr…”

  “Croatia,” Ryker said.

  “No,” she gasped.

  She really wasn’t that good an actress. But Flint knew she could cry to order, he’d seen her do it before.

  “I was sick. You didn’t care,” he said. “No visit. No call. No card. No flowers. No cute…teddy bear.”

  “We can try again.”

  “No.”

  She put her hand over his zipper and Flint stood up. “Ryker. Tell.”

  Ryker pushed away from the desk. “Leave him the fuck alone, Corin. You’re pals, that’s all. You did a film together. He’s escorting you tonight because you’re the only one who knows what happened to him. Play the role. Supportive friend, one time lover who’s still on good terms. Okay? It makes you look good and it’s not that hard.”

  Ryker’s phone rang and he snatched it up. “Yep. Hello… Think again about printing that, mate… Yes, Flint Klavan will be at the premiere… No, he’s not. If you print that you’ll never get another story from me, understand?”

  He threw his phone down again.

  “Rest,” Flint said.

  “Two bedrooms. Help yourself,” Ryker said.

  “Lysander?”

  “Room six-twenty.”

  Flint went into the bedroom and locked the door. He threw himself onto the bed and picked up the phone. A few seconds later he heard Mollie’s voice.

  “Hello?”

  “Moll…ee.”

  “Well, hello, sexy hotel guest,” she purred.

  Flint lay on his back and smiled.

  “Let me put it on speaker so my sexy roommate can hear.”

  “Hi,” said Lysander. “What’s happening?”

  “Corin here. Got to stay with her. But not leaving without you. Come to room.”

  “Okay,” Mollie said. “Later.”

  “What…are you doing?”

  “What would you like us to do?” Lysander whispered and Flint’s cock pressed against his zipper.

  “You need to practice your speaking?” Lysander asked.

  Flint just managed to push “yes” past his lips.

  “Tell us what to do,” Lysander said.

  “Make tea. Read…bible.”

  Lysander laughed. “Try again.”

  “Strip.” Flint swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  “Fast, medium or slow?” Mollie asked.

  “Fast.” Flint had already started to take off his own clothes.

  He could hear them laughing on the other end of the line.

  “Now what?” Lysander asked.

  “Ice?”

  Lysander chuckled and a moment later said, “Okay, ice.”

  “Rub it on nipple.” He slid his hand to his chest and twisted his own nipple as he heard Mollie groaning. “Then suck it warm.” She groaned even louder. “Drag it down the center…of her body and lick up water.”

  “Oh God.” Mollie’s breathing turned noisy.

  “Inside her,” Flint whispered. “In and out with your tongue.”

  He closed his eyes and imagined Lysander with his head between Mollie’s thighs, pushing ice in and out as it melted. Mollie’s gasps and cries wound him tighter.

  “Coming down,” Flint snapped and sat up.

  “No,” Lysander said. “Stay and we’ll tell you what to do too.”

  Flint fell back with a groan.

  They tortured each other, not allowing anyone to come, though in the end Mollie proved unstoppable. Flint’s balls ached, his cock was like iron but he waited because Mollie told him too.

  “What Lys…ander’s cock like, Moll…ee?”

  “Angry.”

  Flint glanced at his own furious dick, trapped in the cage of his fist. “Make him hold bedhead.”

  “Oh, he’s not happy about that.”

  Flint could almost hear Mollie smile.

  “Drag your nail from his balls, over the tip and then blow on him.”

  He heard Lysander curse him and a moment later, heard him come. Flint kept a tight hold on his own cock.

  “Has he made a mess, Moll…ee?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Clean up.”

  As he listened to them, he dragged his fist up and down his cock and came with a juddering groan, his cum spurting in long thick threads over his belly and hand.

  “You were supposed to wait,” Mollie said. “I was going to get you to stand against the window and come on the glass.”

  Flint laughed.

  * * * *

  When Mollie stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself in the slinky maxi-length red dress, she smiled. It was something she’d never have bought because there would be no occasion to wear it. It had a sparkling diamante neckline and a plunging back, which meant she couldn’t wear a bra. Nor as it turned out, panties, because as Lysander pointed out, they were clearly visible.

  “But now it’s obvious I’m not wearing any,” she said with a moan.

  “And that’s a problem?”

  She sighed. He looked so good in the tux, her heart fluttered every time she looked at him.

  “Can’t walk in the shoes either,” she said. She’d never bought a pair with heels this high.

  “Then we’ll walk slowly.” He stood behind her in front of the full-length mirror. “You look breathtaking.” He crooked his elbow. “Come on. Let’s show Flint.”

  She slipp
ed her arm in his and they went down on the lift.

  Ryker opened the door and widened his eyes when he saw her. “Come in. We’re just waiting for Corin.”

  Flint headed straight for them and kissed her. “Oh Moll…ee. Beautiful.” He kissed her again and glanced at Lysander. “Stretched her?”

  She lifted her dress and showed him her sparkly shoes. “Heels.”

  “Ah. Drink?” Flint asked.

  An open bottle of champagne sat on the table.

  “No thanks.” Mollie was going to have enough difficulty walking in a straight line without adding alcohol into the mix. She grabbed Flint’s hand as he paced past. “Nervous?”

  “Film. Want people to like it. I thought…good but…”

  “It’s good,” Ryker said. “It could get him an Oscar.”

  Flint rolled his eyes.

  “Is there enough room in the car for Jean-Paul and Aden?” Lysander asked. “They just called to say they’re downstairs in the lobby.”

  “Yeah,” Ryker said.

  One of the bedroom doors opened and Corin Blakely walked out looking as if she’d stepped straight off a catwalk. Mollie immediately felt frumpy.

  Corin made for Lysander. “Hello, I’m Corin. Lovely to meet you.”

  “Lysander Weldon.” He held out his hand but she kissed his cheeks.

  When she turned to Mollie, she looked her up and down, then nodded to her.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Mollie said. People being rude just made her more polite.

  Corin spun on her heel, the white pleated skirt of her long dress flowing like water. “Ready?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Ryker said. “Do not fuck this up, Corin. If Flint feels he has to say something to put right some comment you make, you’ll regret it.”

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  She flounced out of the door and Mollie squeezed Flint’s fingers. “You’ll be great. If you have a problem, we’ll help. I’ll find a way to distract whoever you’re talking to. Pretend I’ve seen an alien or something.”

  His lips twitched in a smile.

  Jean-Paul came rushing up when they walked into the lobby. “Corin Blakely. I am such a fan,” he said and kissed her fingers.