Craving Midnight

by A. M. Hargrove

Using his fingers and mouth, he makes me come exquisitely, but I do my best to pretend I didn’t enjoy it. Only I practically meow like a fucking tomcat. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a herd of feral females in heat outside my window, waiting for Mr. Feline to emerge.

  I feel puffs of air on my vag. There’s a possibility he may be laughing in my crotch. Jesus. This has not gone the way I’d intended. I’m supposed to be teaching him a lesson, not the other way around.

  I finally brave it enough to open my eyes and find him staring at me with the biggest smirk on his face. His sexy lips glisten with my wetness. Oh my. Before I can stop myself, I grab him by the ears and pull him up to my mouth so I can lick him clean. Without a doubt, I’m losing it.

  But we don’t stop at a kiss. Oh, no. I should’ve known better. He hikes my leg over his shoulder and commences to wrap his thick, hard cock in latex. The man’s got game. In one swift move, he’s covered and sliding deep inside of me. Once he’s balls deep, he stops, and I catch my breath. He’s thick and I have to accommodate myself to him.

  Using a thumb and index finger, he takes my chin and forces me to look at him, which I’m not very willing to do. I don’t usually fuck people I know. It’s uncomfortable and the aftermath isn’t something I care to deal with.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  Is he kidding? Should I tell the truth? If I don’t, I’m sure he’ll find a way to get it out of me.

  “I was thinking how I don’t like to do this with people I know, and this is way too soon for us to be doing this.”

  “Should I stop?”

  I want to say yes, but I don’t. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Guess we both should’ve thought of that earlier, gummy bear.” Then he pinches my nipple as he bites my lip. My body clenches in every place imaginable. But what’s this gummy bear shit?

  Before I can say anything, he pulls out and thrusts into me so hard, a long whoosh of air oomphs out of me.

  “Just so you know, I’m going to fuck that sassiness out of you.” Then he flips me over like a rag doll. Where’s all this coming from? He slides in behind me, doggy-style, which has never been my favorite, but then he surprises me by straightening me up. We’re both on our knees as his hand moves to my clit and the other steadies me under my breasts.

  Bam, bam, bam, his hips bang my ass. The hand on my clit holds me against him to meet his thrusts. Each time, I’m almost lifted off the bed. I won’t last long at this pace, especially if his finger keeps up that little motion. Sure enough, a few more swirls and I’m coming like the pro I am. Only this time, I’m not faking my orgasm.

  He lets me go and I land face down on the bed, where he enters me again from behind. It occurs to me he hasn’t come yet. Shit. I’m going to be limping in the morning. He jams pillows under my hips, and I’m getting thoroughly fucked once again. By now, my pussy is nearly raw and sore, but also aching for more of Harrison Kirkland’s dick.

  How is this possible? What the hell kind of spell has he cast over me? I never respond to men like this. I always thought the only way I could come was with a vibrator. Guess I was wrong, because after several minutes of him pumping in and out of me, I have another big one. Miss O-negative has leaped over to the positive side. A tiny giggle escapes me but I quickly cover my mouth.

  Knowing I won’t have time to catch my breath, I’m still not ready when he flips me onto my back and puts the soles of my feet against his chest. Then he slides inside of me again, carrying on, never breaking stride.

  “I want to look into your eyes while I come.” His voice is gruff and it triggers an unlikely response in me. I’ve never wanted to look in anyone’s eyes during sex. No, no, no. But with him … I do. I want to fall into those dark caverns and never leave.

  I don’t respond, because I’m afraid of what I’ll say. The other truth I’d like to tell him: will you let me rest then, because damn, I’m worn the fuck out. Harrison is a fuck machine.

  It doesn’t take him long before he slows his thrusts and thrums my clit to one more climax. As he does, his lids half close and I watch, totally enthralled, as this gorgeous man finally explodes in his own epic orgasm.

  When he finally pulls out, he scrutinizes me and announces, “Damn, your pussy is swollen.”

  “It ought to be. You fucked it to smithereens.”

  He chuckles and soon it turns into a roaring laugh. It’s impossible not to laugh with him because he did indeed fuck me to pieces.

  When we finally stop laughing, he asks, “Are you ever going to tell me what the hell happened to you in rehab?”

  Why did he have to go and steal my fun?

  Chapter 13

  Harrison

  A veil drops over her eyes and the laugh disappears. Whatever happened in therapy opened up too many old wounds she won’t show me. Right now, anyway. Then I think about what just took place between us, and I question my own sanity. What the fuck was I thinking? Sex and business should never mix. I broke one of my cardinal rules. I didn’t just break it, I pulverized the damn thing, and it’s now scattered into dust. Maybe I should pretend it didn’t happen.

  But I can’t do that. And why? Because it was the most epic sex of my life. And it was with Midnight, someone I’ve developed feelings for. How the hell did that happen?

  Leaning down, I take my tongue and give her pussy one last, long swipe. Then I stand and go into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When I’m done, I pick up my discarded clothes and get dressed. Her eyes practically burn through the skin on my back, which isn’t exactly the most comfortable feeling.

  Before I leave, I walk next to the bed. “I’ll be back tomorrow around the same time. And don’t tell me you didn’t like what happened between us. If you do, I’ll call you a fucking liar,” I say. I want to kiss her, but I don’t. Instead, I tug at one of her nipples and the response is immediate. She sucks in her breath and my dick twitches in my pants. I have to get out of here before I strip off my jeans and push said dick back inside her swollen pussy. I’m pretty fucking sure she’d be willing too.

  On my way out, she says, “Tomorrow, I want Italian. Make it spaghetti Bolognese. And find a place that serves the best. If you’re going to fuck me like this, I need to keep up my strength.”

  The corners of my mouth curve up. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else?”

  “Yes. A bottle of Barolo, a Caesar salad, and some great bread. You pick the bread. And butter, none of that olive oil. Bread needs butter.”

  “Demanding, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all. You have the opportunity to choose your own entrée because I never share.”

  I chuckle. “Dessert?”

  “Surprise me.”

  I’d like to surprise her, but I don’t think I have a single trick up my sleeve that she hasn’t seen or experienced. That should bother me, but it doesn’t. At least not yet.

  The next afternoon I’m sitting in my office, my thoughts bouncing from last night to a new client that just hired us, when my cell phone rings. It’s my dad.

  “Hey, son. Your mother and I are thinking about flying out to visit. Is this a good time?”

  I bolt out of my chair. “Oh, well, Dad, not now. You know I was planning on coming home for Christmas.”

  “Yes, but since you don’t come home much, your mother has been worried silly about you. You know how she is.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, but now isn’t such a good time. Maybe after the first of the year you two can come out.”

  Disappointment laces his tone. “All right. I’ll let your mother know. Is everything okay out there?”

  “Yeah, all is well. And you’re good, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine, son. Well, you take care of yourself.”

  After the call ends, I let out a loud groan. Misha takes a detour into my office. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mom and Dad want to visit and I keep putting them off. They worry about me. But if they come, I know it’ll be a little painful. Mom w
ill be trying to shove food down my throat the entire time. And then she’ll be on a mission to marry me off to someone from Virginia. Plus they have no idea I own this company.”

  She cackles.

  I aim my finger at her. “This isn’t even remotely funny.”

  “I don’t know what the big deal is.”

  “They think I work in PR. They have no idea whatsoever how ruthless I can be.”

  Emily brings in a stack of folders and slams them on my desk. “Okay, this is what I have on—”

  My hand shoots out. “Not now.”

  “What do you mean, not now? We have to get this done today,” she argues.

  Rubbing my face, I say, “Give me a minute, please.”

  Misha adds, “He’s recovering from a parental phone call.”

  “Ahh.”

  Helen decides to join our little group. “Hey, boss, can I ask a favor?”

  I look at her as she toys with one of her pigtails. Emily and Misha have been relatively successful at getting her to dump the Harley Quinn look at work, but the pigtails and hair color remain.

  “What do you need?”

  “Can you get tickets to Comic-Con?” Her eyes are huge circles—she looks like a five-year-old.

  I want to laugh, I swear I do. But I tell her I’ll work on it. She pops a bubble and waltzes out.

  After Helen leaves, Emily says, “Hey, Harrison, Helen is really doing a great job for us. Her organizational skills are amazing. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks for filling me in. I’ll have a talk with her to let her know how pleased we are.”

  Leland pops in shortly after to inform me we need to meet a potential client that evening.

  “Can’t you do it?” I ask.

  “He specifically requested you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Vince LaMar.” Leland grins.

  Vince LaMar is one of Hollywood’s biggest actors, and he’s been involved in all sorts of shit from women to DUIs to drugs. It must be bad this time.

  “Hell. Is his agent going to be there, because if not, neither of us is going.”

  “Yeah. I think the agent wants him to go to rehab,” Leland says.

  “Dammit. Okay. No dinner.”

  “Dinner. They insisted.”

  Better call Midnight to let her know I can’t make it tonight. My dick just shed a few tears. But then my heart gives a little squeeze too. What’s that all about?

  Midnight answers immediately. “You miss me already?”

  How am I supposed to answer that?

  “Actually, I have to cancel tonight.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” The humor that was present in her voice before disappears.

  “It’s not what you think. A client called and is insisting on seeing me for dinner. I’m really sorry. I promise to make it up to you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She doesn’t believe me. But I’m going to make sure I live up to this promise.

  Chapter 14

  Midnight

  My agent, Rita, calls late the following afternoon. She wants to meet so she can bring me up to speed on everything. I agree to meet her for lunch the following day.

  I take care to pick out a very conservative outfit. Although, thinking back, that’s exactly what I did the last time and look where it landed me. I opt for a cute, flowery dress along with a sweater. I add ballet flats and take a quick glance in the mirror on my way out—I look like a rockabilly chick. Oh well, maybe Rita will like that look on me.

  Rita’s already waiting when I arrive, even though I’m early. She greets me with a huge smile. I pray that’s a good sign because I need good right now.

  “Midnight, you look amazing.” She hugs me.

  “Thank you. I feel pretty good too.” I hope she can’t tell I’m lying and that I’m scared shitless.

  “First off, I hope the new contract meets your approval.”

  “Yes, I went over it and it looked the same as the old.”

  “It is. Only the dates were changed. Are you able to sign it today?”

  “Sure. I can do it after lunch,” I say.

  “Great. I want you to know that we’ve been fielding calls for you constantly since you’ve been gone. This whole thing has really notched up your career.”

  Well, fuck me upside down. Harrison was right after all. “Really?”

  “I’ll have someone link you up with the fan page from the studio so you can see. Alta has a separate one as well. There’s no way you can answer all the emails. It’s ridiculous. But I do want you to have a look. There’s a Facebook fan page, a Twitter account, an Instagram page, you name it. They even set up a special website for you. They called it Midnight’s Minions. I’m positive after filming starts, your stuff will literally explode.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Midnight’s Minions? That’s crazy.”

  “It just shows you how much people will stand up for you. And all you have to say is you’re ready for the new version of the script.”

  “The new version?” I’m familiar with the old one. A case of anxiety rushes over me.

  “Just some minor changes,” she says.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, I am. More than ready.” My fingers itch for a gummy bear that’s sitting in my purse. My mouth waters for one, but I restrain myself.

  The waitress pops over and takes our order. I’m reeling with this website thing. After the waitress is gone, Rita explains where we stand. The film, Turned, is about a man who loses his job and is desperate for money. He ends up robbing a bank with a group of thugs to save his family from financial ruin, but of course, things don’t work out like he plans. The people he robs the bank with are true criminals, unlike him, and they end up killing a bunch of innocent bystanders. He has to figure out a way to either get out of the country or turn himself in.

  I’m playing the guy’s wife and eventually, he ends up turning himself over to the police. But he gets killed in the final scene, where the wife watches it all unfold. It’s a gritty, root-for-the-bad-guy film. In the end, the wife leaves town with her daughter, fleeing to start a new life. It’s heart-rending, emotional, and moving with an all-around ugly-cry sort of ending.

  “Apparently, Holt and the rest of the crew are dying to get started with you, and as soon as you learn the script, they’re ready to go. They’ve already been filming.”

  “I’m ready, Rita. I just need some time to get my new lines down.”

  She hands me the revised screenplay and says, “Do it, then. You’ll see there aren’t many changes in this. Since they’re filming part of it here, and then the other part in Santa Monica, they don’t have to make any heavy-duty travel arrangements. How much time do you need to re-familiarize yourself with the script? I know you already have a copy, but they’ve actually made a few changes since you’ve been gone. Nothing major, though.”

  I look at what she hands me and take some time to thumb through it. I’m a fairly quick study. “Shouldn’t take me long. If I start reading this afternoon, I should be done by tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. I’ll let Danny and Greg know.” Greg is the director, which I’m super excited about because his reputation is stellar. “They both want to do the table read ASAP. How about the day after tomorrow, then? That’ll give you an extra day just in case. This shouldn’t be all that different from the last time you went through it.”

  I nod, saying, “Yeah, I like that idea.”

  “Good. I think everyone else will too.”

  “Even Holt?”

  Rita chuckles. “I don’t think Danny gives a shit what he thinks. Holt will do as Danny says.”

  “Then everything sounds great to me.”

  The waitress delivers our salads. Before Rita digs into hers, she asks, “How much time afterward do you think you’ll need before we go into production?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think I can answer that. I learn fast and am quick on my feet. Do you know if Greg minds a bit of improvising?”r />
  Rita’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure they’ll want you straying off script too much.”

  “Oh, I won’t. I just may not hit the exact words every single time.”

  “My suggestion would be to try your best not to do that. Is a week enough?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll let them know,” Rita says. “Keep in mind, we’re already behind thirty days. All the sets have been established. They’ve already shot the bank robbery scenes, and they’ve completed a few of the others that don’t involve you. Of course, I’m not the decision-maker here. Keep that in mind.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. And Rita, I promise you, I’ll work harder than anyone on this.”

  After lunch, we go to her office to sign the updated contract and part ways after that. For the first time since I entered that godforsaken rehab, I feel lighthearted. I owe Harrison. He was right about how the people would respond.

  Wasting not even a second, I dash home and devour the screenplay. I am so immersed in it, I don’t even take a break to eat. I only stop when I’m finished at four in the morning. This is epic. Tears course down my cheeks, and I have to use paper towels to dry my eyes because I’m fresh out of tissue. Each time I read this, it’s more impactful than the last. Holt better play this as it’s written because this is Oscar-worthy stuff. I can’t remember when I’ve been so moved by anything.

  My emotions are so raw and exposed, there’s not a chance I’ll be able to sleep. Looks like Netflix will be my balm tonight. I hunt for something to make me drowsy, but nothing interests me except for Daredevil. I turn it on and before I know it, the sun brightens my room. I’m exhausted yet jacked up at the same time. This screenplay is so dynamic and full of style, I want to shower and run to the studio right now.

  But I’m not exactly thinking clearly. Padding to the kitchen to power up the Keurig, I cradle the script tightly to my chest. I’m standing there waiting for the light to turn on when there’s a loud knock on the door. It’s only nine in the morning. Who could that be?