Mindgasm - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist (Mind Games Book 3)

by Gabi Moore

  I was still warm, still buzzing. I could still feel his fingernails dragging deliciously down the skin of my back. Could still taste him. Could still feel the weight of his body all around me. And in me.

  I settled down into the big sofa and the interviewer kicked off with all the usual questions. I tried to answer them with all the wit and tasteful candor you’d expect from the youngest woman to ever win The Stage Awards Producer of the Year Award. It was utterly embarrassing and ridiculous, but …I liked it. All of it. Plus, it was good publicity. The interviewer suddenly changed tack and began asking slightly more personal questions.

  “So, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you, as far as, what can I call it, tabloid scandal and so on, how deliberate is all of that?”

  The interviewer was a cheerful gentleman with sharp teeth and manic hands. He crossed his legs and leaned in close, notebook perched on his knee even though I had signed two separate documents agreeing to be recorded. I smiled at him knowingly.

  “Ah. You’re talking about Adam. Yes, he certainly finds his way into the tabloids and--”

  “No, I meant you,” he said, eyes smiling.

  “Me?”

  “Well, yes. It certainly appears that of the two of you, you’re the more daring, no? The more fiery one? I just wanted to know if what we see in the tabloids is a true picture of the real Nyx Westling. Jeremy Fontain said recently that your habit of courting scandal must be something like a second art for you, what do you say to that?” he said through a good-natured grin.

  I was still turning over the idea between Adam and me, I’d be considered the more ‘daring’ one. I’d have to remember to tell him that for sure.

  “Well, uh, if there’s anything Adam has taught me, is that there are no real distinctions between life and art and so on. So I’m not sure what that even would be, a ‘true picture’. I try to be authentic. That’s all. I try to create something that I don’t just think is good, but which I actually feel is good.”

  I pressed a clench fist to my chest to demonstrate exactly where this feeling would emanate from.

  He nodded.

  “As you’ve said in other interviews, an instinctual process,” he said.

  “Exactly. An instinctual process. Like sex.”

  He scribbled something into his notebook.

  “Like sex?”

  “Well, yes. When people make love, their sense of self is more elastic. The boundaries between them disappear almost completely, especially at the peak of ecstasy. It’s not about what looks good or sounds good, it’s just about pleasure. Just about what feels good. With good sex, there is no question about what is real or not, what comes next, or any of that. We all have the instinct in us, I think, that inbuilt timing. Good sex is always like good theatre. The ultimate performance. And so when I work on a production, that’s what I mean about working instinctually. Feeling the flow of what to do and when, in the same way as you’d ask yourself that during the act of lovemaking.”

  He lifted an amused eyebrow at me. I could see the article already, see the over-the-top headline they’d splash on everything. Maybe I did court scandal after all.

  “Well, that’s certainly an interesting take, and rather gutsy if I’m honest,” he said and gave an uncomfortable laugh.

  I liked it. I liked that I put him slightly on edge.

  “But it was always a very obvious move for you, wasn’t it? Coming from a family already so heavily involved in the theatre, anyway?”

  There was something a bit nasty in his smile this time.

  “Actually, in the very beginning, the plan was never to act at all.”

  “Really? Some would say that you’ve been extremely fortunate, privileged even …certainly many talented young people didn’t start life with nearly the connections you did, and from what I’ve heard…”

  “What have you heard?” I said bluntly.

  He smiled. His teeth weren’t so sharp as they had first seemed.

  “Oh, only the rumors of course, but you know people do have their theories. Your critics for one say it’s easy to create the kind of fantasy theatre you do when you’ve had such an easy rise to fame.”

  “Easy?”

  “Well, you’re basically theatre royalty. You’ve had many opportunities handed to you.”

  “Nothing was ever easy for me,” I said.

  He held up his hand and looked apologetic.

  “No, of course not. Of course it wasn’t. I suppose the question to ask is, would you see yourself going into acting and directing if you hadn’t, by some chance, been born the child of a great actor? Would you have pursued that path anyway?”

  “There’s no question in my mind that I would have,” I said.

  The light glinted off his teeth as he smiled once more, and extended his hand.

  We shook.

  “Miss Westling, it has been an absolute pleasure.”

  “Well, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” I said and laughed. “Pleasure.”

  The photographer gave me a sly look as I put on my jacket and left the building. I took a glance at my phone. It was getting late. My fingers tapped quickly over the screen:

  Interview was ghastly. You were right. I should have turned it down!

  The reply was instant.

  Should have …but didn’t. But I do know how much you love having your picture taken, though ;)

  Even now, nobody could make me blush harder than he could. It was his special talent, riling me up like this, with minimum effort. Sending me into an urgent frenzy with a look, a naughty word. I pulled the collar up round my neck and found my car, turned on the ignition and made my way home.

  Chapter 23

  “Mommy’s late again! Mommy’s late again!” came a shrill little voice from inside the house. I threw my car keys into my handbag and walked up the driveway, pretending to hide my face in my hands from shame. There was a time when Adam was the late one. I suppose life goes on, though.

  “No, I’m not that late!” I mumbled and when I parted my fingers I saw her standing in the doorway, very pleased with herself indeed.

  “Yes, late. Too late. You can’t come in,” she said and grabbed the door jamb, blocking my entry with her little arms.

  “Yeah? Well what do you want, a magic word or something?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK, is the magic word Nelly?” I said.

  She looked crestfallen. She was only three, granted, and I don’t think she knew that many words period, nevermind magic ones.

  “Noooo, it’s not Nelly,” she said and gave me a naughty smile.

  “It’s not?”

  “No!”

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Nelly though.”

  “No!”

  “Then what is it then?”

  She looked around at my feet, then her little face brightened.

  “It’s flower!” she said.

  “Oh, OK, not Nelly?”

  “No!”

  I scaled the steps and stood before her.

  “Wait, you can’t come in yet! You didn’t say the magic word!”

  “But I know the magic word. It’s flower,” I said, and kissed her cheek. Her little face scrunched down into a frown. She had deep, expressive eyes and cheekbones to make a supermodel jealous.

  “No it’s not!” she said, getting flustered.

  “Hey hey hey, what’s all this commotion?” came Adam’s voice from inside the house. I looked up and smiled to see him there, tall, shirtless and with a paperback in his hands, all bent out of shape.

  “It appears I can’t come in because I don’t know the magic word,” I told him. Our eyes locked for a moment. My home. Those eyes. Of all the roles we had played in our time together, of all the lines I had seen him deliver, of all the expressions, all the costumes, there was one role I never tired of sawing him in. And it was this role right here. This bare chested Adam, clear eyed, som
ething mischievous playing on his lips, and nothing but a silent smile. God, I loved him like this.

  “Well that’s perfectly all right, I happen to know the magic word,” he said and bent down to grab her round her little belly.

  “No! Don’t tell her!” she squealed and giggled in his arms, but he had hoisted her up high and now had her perched on his shoulder where she looked at me red-faced and indignant.

  “It’s Nelly,” he whispered loudly to me.

  I laughed and stepped inside.

  “Nelly Nelly Nelly!” he said and blew bubbles on her stomach and she squealed and wriggled on his shoulders as I shut the door behind me and put my stuff down on the kitchen table. He put her down and she gave me a poorly aimed kiss on my knee, then scampered off to another room, no doubt to figure out a more reliable magic word.

  “Interview no good?” he asked. He came over to me and wrapped warm, dry hands round the back of my neck. I smiled, shut my eyes and sunk into the comforting musk of his neck.

  “Ugh,” I said and I heard him laugh quietly from somewhere inside his chest. He stroked my hair to the side and kissed my brow.

  “Don’t worry, Leah will be here soon and then you can tell me all about it, hm?” he said quietly.

  I smiled at the thought. It had been a hell of a week. Two interviews, too many late nights meeting with the cast of Sinderella, too many scripts and lines and ring binders. But in Adam’s arms, none of that seemed to matter quite as much. We had come a long way together, me, him, and those naughty eyes of his. The doorbell rang, and Nelly ran off to go and answer it and, presumably, tell the visitor that they couldn’t pass unless they guessed a very, very obvious magic word.

  Adam pecked my cheek and disentangled himself.

  “Here she is! Let me dash off and put a shirt on quick,” he said and disappeared off to the bedroom. I could already hear Nelly’s bossy little voice through the hallway.

  “No, it isn’t Nelly, that’s not the magic word!”

  I came up behind her, swooped her up and let Leah in.

  “Blimey, Nyx, she’s definitely your child, isn’t she? Stubborn as a mule, I swear,” she said and came in laughing.

  “What, me? Nah that’s all Adam, promise. He’s taught her all that magic word shit” I said and closed the door.

  “Daddy! Daddy! Mom said a swear,” Nelly squealed in my arms.

  “Mommy don’t swear,” came Adam’s voice from the bedroom.

  “Charming,” Leah said and leaned in to give Nelly a big kiss on her cheek. “You all right love? Ready to come with auntie Leah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a good girl.”

  Nelly scrambled off to fetch her little backpack and I handed Leah a cooler bag of juice and snacks. Leah still had her outrageous red dreadlocks these days, only they were a little shorter now, and she had foregone glitter and hot pants.

  “Who’d have thought, hey, Nyx? You. A mum. I still can’t get over it sometimes, you know?”

  “You and me both,” I said.

  We walked into the living room just as Adam emerged from the bedroom, hair still ruffled from a hastily thrown on shirt. It was no use, really. There wasn’t very much he could do to hide that body of his, truly.

  “Hey, Adam.”

  “Ah, Leah! Greetings. Did you get the magic word right?” he said, smiling.

  Leah laughed and then frowned and pointed to something in the dining room.

  “Hey, is that new?” she said.

  I followed her gaze. The picture. She was pointing to a giant white canvas, splattered and smeared with red, hanging behind the dining room table.

  “That? No that’s not new at all. Just …something Adam and I made,” I said. I flashed him a naughty smile and he sent one right back at me.

  “Jesus. It’s pretty intense for a living room, isn’t it?” Leah said. We all laughed. For those who didn’t know, it might have looked a little …serial killer-ish, it’s true.

  “All right poppet, you all ready to go? I’ve got something for you that you’re going to love…” Leah said to Nelly when she came bounding back in to join us. She gave me saucy wink, took Nelly’s hand and in a moment they were outside again, chattering away, and Adam and I stood on the front door steps, watching them both disappear into the night. As Nelly’s prattling faded off into the distance, and the night closed dark and quiet around them, I reached out for his hand and gently took it in mine.

  “I’ve got something for you that you’re going to love,” he whispered under his breath. I shot him a look and he beamed at me.

  “Oh yeah?” I said.

  “Uh huh. Wanna see it?” he said and gave me a cheeky grin.

  I led him inside and locked the door, then pinned him against it.

  “Fuck, I’ve wanted you all day,” I purred into his ears.

  “You have?”

  “I’ve missed this,” I said and reached for his crotch, wishing he’d take every single last stitch of his stupid clothing off and never put it back on again. His laugh was quiet and low, and his hips tucked a little to press towards me.

  “Tell me how much. Tell me how much you’ve missed it,” he said.

  “Oh God, I was sitting all through that stupid interview thinking of you, thinking how badly I wanted it.”

  “You want it?”

  “Only all of it,” I said and peered up at him, hunger in my eyes. He reached his fingertips down and pulled me closer to him for a kiss. He pulled away again, looked deep into my eyes.

  “Suck it,” he said.

  Something juicy kicked inside the pit of my stomach. I dropped to my knees in an instant, tearing away at his jeans, yanking them down to reveal his manly form. His thick hard cock sprung out at me and I took it between my lips without skipping a beat. I slid the ring of my mouth down his shaft and then all the way back up again, slowly, deliberately. At the tip I kissed closed and stared back up at him.

  “A little intense for a living room, isn’t it?” I teased.

  “Wanna take this party to the bedroom?” he said, smiling down at me.

  I got to my feet and we scrambled to the bedroom, clumsily shedding clothing as we went. He gripped my wrist and spun me around, and I went skidding, landing square on the bed in a fit of giggles.

  “It really is a fucking horrid painting,” he said, laughing.

  “I found it in the basement the other day, I thought it was time to bring it out again.”

  I sunk into his delicious lips again.

  Even now, years later, Adam could still make me giggle and hiccup like I was drunk, could make my head spin, could make my fingertips tingle and my eyes shine with naughty ideas. He still made me giddy, woozy, easily dissolved into a puddle of lust with just a little flick of his wrist, a little magic and a little smile on those delicious lips of his…

  “Fuck me,” I pleaded, and spread myself on the bed before him. He stood towering over me, his strong hands in fists at his sides, his body tight and hard and a little dangerous looking.

  “Oh I will, but you’re not done sucking me yet,” he said, and took a step towards me.

  I rolled onto my back and gave him a goofy smile. He took his time scanning his black eyes over every part of my naked, vulnerable body. He knew that when I got horny like this, I would do anything for his cock. Anything. And so he looked me over and decided just exactly how far he could push his luck today.

  My desperate hands went to the aching folds between my legs and I started rubbing furiously. It was small relief – what I really wanted was him. I wanted to throw my head back and let him take me roughly, to have his fat dick locked into me, right to the very hilt, and to fuck him so hard that he exploded deep inside and his voice went weak and broke and I heard that gorgeous, shuddering sound came bubbling out of his throat.

  But instead he angled my head off the bed, guiding me gently so that it lay dangling off the mattress. My legs flopped open as I watched him upside down, his cock like a monolith
over me. He had always been a …veiny man. And from this angle, I admired how hot he looked from underneath, his cock tight and rippled as he took it in his hands and gently, gingerly glanced it over my cheek. Instinctively I opened my lips, closed my eyes.

  “Good,” he whispered.

  The swollen tip was slid over the contours of my lips, slowly, tracing a delicious path round my slightly opened mouth. The ache at my clit became a white-hot fire, the flames licking further and further up from my hips, engulfing me in a quiet inferno as he looked down at me, his own face perfectly composed. He knew how much I wanted him.

  “Now put your head back.”

  I obeyed and scooted myself to the edge of the mattress, letting my head flop a little off the edge. The blood rushed to my head.

  “More,” he ordered, so I scooted down some more.

  “Now open your mouth for me.”

  I moaned and opened my mouth, feeling the tightness in my throat as I let go and exposed my neck to him. One firm hand at the base of his cock, and another resting gently on my brow, he lowered himself onto my hot tongue and pressed himself down, down and into my throat. Adam was a big guy. I already knew this. But in this position, he felt so thick it was almost overwhelming. I took a deep breath and focused on the sensation of my lips against him, of the warm musk of his skin.

  To my delight, I felt little ripples throbbing through his veins; little pulses rush through his cock as he guided himself further into my mouth. It was intense. I couldn’t move. He inched in slowly, very slowly, and the moment became strange, almost meditative. Head back, upside-down, everything felt more sensitive somehow. I swallowed. This alone caused his cock to bounce in my throat, and he whimpered a little under his breath.

  “Fuck, that feels amazing,” he said.

  I was too focused on accommodating every last morsel of his glorious dick that I could scarcely respond. Everything in the room disappeared and all that existed was his hot, throbbing pole wedged deep in me, a delicate position, one where the slightest movement would be unbearable, would make him come.