Getting Played (Heart of Fame #7)

by Lexxie Couper

  “Ahh, yes…” A shudder rocked his naked body. His eyes closed again. He swayed toward her, his lips brushing hers.

  She returned her hand to his cock, tracing her fingers up its venous length to the bulbous dome of its head.

  Jax groaned her name against her lips. She flicked her tongue out, tasting him for a quick second before catching his bottom lip with her teeth.

  He groaned again and then hissed in a breath as she gripped his erection completely and pumped hard and fast.

  In her chest, her heart jumped from prestissimo to presto. Between her thighs, her pussy grew thick and hot, already aching for more of his touch.

  She released his lip from her teeth and, breath shallow and pulse wild, flattened her palm to his chest and shoved him upright.

  He let out a startled gasp, a gasp that turned into a raw whimper as she leant forward and took his cock in her mouth.

  “Fuck.” He bucked his hips forward, sinking deeper into her mouth.

  She hummed her approval and sucked down his length, all the way to his smooth balls and then back up to the very tip.

  “Fuck, yes,” he panted, snaring her ponytail in a tight fist.

  She hummed again, reveling in the way his stomach hitched and his legs quivered. She was making that happen. He may have the power to reduce her to an inarticulate puddle of rapture in front of a federal politician, but she had the power to render his knees weak.

  And she loved that power.

  Cheeks hollowing, she drew down his cock and flicked the tip of her tongue over the swell of his balls.

  Jax groaned, thrusting deeper into her mouth. “Oh yeah, gorgeous,” he rasped. “Your mouth…on my dick…nothing better…”

  The words caressed Nat’s senses. Her heart thumped faster. She didn’t care Dory could catch them at any second, possibly with a parent or student or a lecturer. She should care, but she didn’t. She never had when Jax was involved. Their lust, their molten passion took over and all that existed was him and her and pleasure. It was the reason she’d sat at her desk earlier knowing he was under there. She’d suspected what he was likely to do and had offered herself to him anyway.

  It was insanity. It was self-destruction.

  It was fucking incredible sex.

  And she was going to have as much of it as she could.

  Sliding her fingers between Jax’s clenched arse cheeks, she fingered his anus.

  He growled her name, drove his cock deep into her mouth and tightened his grip on her ponytail. “Touch me there, Nat,” he panted above her head, “and I’m going to fucking blow and I’m not going to be quiet about—”

  She pressed her finger to his hole again, harder this time. Parting his puckered entry with the tip of her index.

  “Fuck!” he cried. “Fuck, again.”

  She complied, pushing her finger to his resistant flesh again.

  “Oh yeah, that’s it.” His knees trembled. His hips bucked. He scraped his nails over her shoulder, up the side of her neck.

  She pressed at his anus once more, tugged on his balls with her other hand and plunged lower down his cock, so deep the head of his length slid against the back of her throat.

  “That’s it, gorgeous, that’s it, that’s—” Jax groaned, slamming his hips forward, driving his length completely into her mouth. “—it!”

  Hot release spurted from him in thick wads, splashing the back of Nat’s throat. He raked his hand over her shoulder, tugged at her ponytail. He cried her name, her nickname, called her gorgeous and Boxhead and Natalie and gorgeous again, all the while ramming his cock into her mouth with increasing speed, flooding it with his release.

  She took it all, swallowed every last drop and sucked for more.

  More.

  It wasn’t until she heard the intercom on her desk, the one she rarely used, buzz into life that the reality of the situation truly hit her.

  Oh Christ, she was blowing Jax Campbell. Jax Campbell, who’d no doubt slept with a gazillion women. She was blowing Jaxon Campbell in her office. Her office. Jesus holy Christ, her office. What the hell was she—

  “Boxhead’s office,” Jax said above her head, voice both breathless and full of mirth.

  “Ummm…” Dory’s voice followed his absurd response, tinny from the intercom’s small speaker, just as humored as Jax’s. “Can you tell Ms. Thorton the Associate Dean of Composition and Music Technology is here to see her about Josh Blackthorne.”

  Heat flooded Nat’s cheeks. She pulled away from Jax’s still pulsing cock and gaped up at him.

  He winked down at her and then, grin wide, pressed his thumb to the intercom button. “Can do, cutie,” he said, watching her, devilish delight curling his lips. “Just gives us a sec though, will you. She’s got her mouth f—”

  Nat did the only thing she could think of to shut him up.

  She slapped her hand over his open mouth and punched him in the stomach.

  Chapter Five

  Jax always forgot how beautiful Sydney was at dusk. He’d grown up in Tamworth, a small rural city six hours northwest of the cosmopolitan metropolis, where the tallest building was the local three-story council office. A place hundreds of miles from the coast where the harsh Australian weather claimed most of the colour during the summer and froze what little there was left in the winter. It wasn’t until he’d moved to Sydney to study music—specifically classical piano—at Sydney University that he’d discovered just how breathtaking the country’s most famous city was.

  A lot of that discovery had taken place with Nat, and most of it had involved bonking somewhere.

  Within two hours of meeting each other for the first time—after he’d stolen the last bread roll at the cafeteria from her plate—they’d surrendered to the instant sexual lust between them and made out like sex-starved rabbits in the cafeteria’s female loo. For months after that, they’d screwed each other silly in more than one gallery, park, water taxi…hell, they’d even managed to bonk on top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge’s South pylon. Then, after a year and a half of wild sex in wild places, with the money coming in from Nick’s skyrocketing success, they’d rented a place together and made out there as well.

  Now, standing at the floor-to-ceiling window of his Park Hyatt suite overlooking the harbor, its reflective surface mirroring the lights of the buildings hugging its edge and the pink dusk sky, he found himself wondering if Nat had continued her ferocious sexual exhibitionism throughout Sydney with other partners after they’d ended their relationship.

  A shard of something far too hot and tight and unsettling sliced through his chest at the thought. A something he’d never experienced before.

  He frowned. He didn’t do jealousy, so there was no way he was jealous now, but the thought of Nat with anyone else apart from him made him feel…odd.

  Not willing to analyse the unfamiliar sensation, he turned from the stunning vista of the Sydney Opera House bathed in golden light and crossed his hotel suite to his open suitcase.

  He was due at the red-carpet premier in an hour and probably should think about getting dressed. Bruce would be banging on the door any moment now, ready to escort him to the event, and while his bodyguard was used to finding Jax naked, tonight Jax didn’t feel like stirring the ex-marine’s ire.

  What he felt like doing was…

  A tight beat throbbed in his cock as an image of Nat filled his head.

  Ignoring the black suit he’d planned to wear to the premier, he snagged his jeans from where he’d discarded them on the floor before taking a shower and dug his mobile phone from the back pocket.

  The throb in his cock grew tighter. More eager.

  Without letting himself think about what he was doing, he jabbed his thumb to Nat’s number and raised his phone to his ear. Getting the damn thing from her had been hard work. He’d had to threaten to stay naked in her office for the rest of the day before she would give it to him.

  A chuckle slipped past his lips as he recalled the exasperate
d way she’d shoved him out of her office, forbidding him to return. He was surprised she’d even let him take the time to get dressed. As it was, she’d flung his boots at him through the door when he tried to walk back in to retrieve them. If it wasn’t for the flush in her cheeks and the pointed state of her nipples, he would have thought she didn’t want him there.

  But that blush—and those nipples—and the hungry way she’d looked at him even as she tried to pretend she was finished with him—

  “Hello?”

  A thick spasm claimed Jax’s cock at the sound of her voice in his ear. “Boxhead,” he said, enjoying the rush of happy warmth flowing through him. “Wanna come to the movies with me?”

  “No.”

  He laughed at her rejection. “Ah, c’mon. It’ll be fun. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  It was Nat’s turn to laugh. “As if. And the answer is still no. I’m using you for sex, Campbell. That’s it. Can’t have sex in a movie cinema.”

  “Why not?” He grinned. “Never stopped us before. I’m pretty certain we screwed ourselves silly for the entire duration of—”

  “Enough,” she cut him off.

  He laughed again. “Just proving a point.”

  A heartbeat of silence stretched through the connection and then Nat said, “What movie?”

  Elated joy bloomed in Jax’s chest. He squeezed the air in a tight fist and let out a silent yes! “The new George Clooney movie,” he answered with a smile.

  “The one that premieres tonight?”

  “Yep.” He wandered over to the window and watched the play of lights on the darkening harbor waters, a contented lick of pleasure joining the joy in his chest. Damn, he’d forgotten how much he liked the sound of her voice. All husky and naughty even when she wasn’t talking dirty. “That’s the one. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to all the other famous people there.”

  “I already know all the famous people in this country worth knowing.”

  He raised his eyebrows, lips curling. “Oh, who’s become a culture snob in her old age?”

  “Screw you, Campbell,” she shot back. He could hear the laughter in her insult. “I’m not that old. Besides, I’ve already made it clear I’m not interested in anything from you except fucking.”

  “So we’ll fuck after. In the back of the limo if you want. Or in the back row of the cinema while the ushers clean up the popcorn. Or—”

  “Aren’t I meant to be the one laying down the challenges?”

  He smirked. “Just giving you some ideas.”

  Another heartbeat-long pause filled the connection before Nat sighed. “I don’t think—”

  “Say yes, Boxhead,” he said, a tight lump filling his throat.

  “If I don’t?” Cautious wariness filled the question.

  “I’ll turn up at your office tomorrow with an aerosol can of whipped cream while wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants. I can do that. I’m a rock star.”

  “Jesus, Campbell.”

  His smirk stretched to a triumphant grin. He had her. He could hear it on the husky waver in her voice.

  An image of Nat stretched out naked on her desk as he drew a delicious path of whipped cream from her lips, over her breasts, around her belly button and down to the exquisiteness of her tight pussy filled his head. His cock throbbed, aching with urgent need.

  He was going to do that to her. Whether it was one of her challenges or not, he was going to do that to her. Maybe as a celebration after they’d found Nick’s replacement?

  After? Isn’t the whole sex-challenge thing finished when you find a replacement for Nick? She’s going out with the Minister for Colouring In, after all.

  A squirming knot of disquiet twisted through Jax’s happiness. He ground his teeth, turned from the window and strode back to his suitcase. “So that’s a yes?” he said, staring at the suit waiting for him. Would she find him sexy in it? “To the movie? And sex after?”

  “Jax…” she began.

  “Or would you rather whipped cream in your office?”

  “Okay, yes to the movie.”

  He grinned, an overwhelming sense of happiness flowing through him once again. “Excellent. Be ready in thirty minutes.”

  He hung up before she could respond, tossed his phone on the massive king-size bed positioned in the middle of the room and then launched himself into a very debauched victory dance, his erect cock slapping his stomach with solid whacks.

  He was halfway through a ridiculously happy limbo move when his phone rang.

  Snatching it from the bed, he frowned at Nat’s name on the screen. Cold fear doused his elation. Fuck, she wasn’t going to renege, was she? And if she did, what would he do? He wanted to see her tonight. He wanted to—

  Throat thick, that same unfamiliar unrest stirring in his gut, he connected the call and placed his phone to his ear. “Boxhead?”

  “Stop calling me Boxhead.”

  He forced out a chuckle. “What do you want? Can’t go without hearing my voice for more than a second?”

  She snorted. “I thought you just might want to know where I live? Given that you’re apparently collecting me in thirty minutes?”

  Relief gushed over his unsettled trepidation. His muscles—far more coiled than he realized—relaxed with fluid calm. “Ahh, yeah. That might help. Shoot.”

  With another snort, Nat provided her address. “Swanky,” he said, picturing the harbor-side suburb with its historic homes and wide tree-lined streets. “Being head honcho at the Con must pay well.”

  “It does,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for an annoying rock star.”

  “An annoying rock star who is going to make you come so fucking hard your bones are going to melt.”

  “Hmmm…” she hummed in his ear, mocking doubt in the sound. “We’ll see.”

  She disconnected before he could respond.

  Jax laughed, tossed his phone back on the bed and resumed his naked victory dance. He hadn’t felt so fucking alive in ages. Tonight was going to be brilliant. Walking the red carpet with Nat, posing for photos with her, listening to her dissect the film with her sharp wit, sharing popcorn and discussing the soundtrack after…a perfect night.

  And sex, right? It’s going to be brilliant because of the sex. That’s the reason you rang her, right? Invited her to the premier? Not to catch up and eat popcorn, but for the sex. Right?

  A troubling tension fell over Jax. His throat tightened. He stared at the view beyond his window, seeing not Sydney Harbour and all its beauty, but seeing Nat, the woman who’d ended their relationship a lifetime ago.

  He swallowed. Heat prickled its way up the back of his neck and over his scalp.

  Nat. His Nat. His Boxhead.

  Of its own accord, his right hand moved to the top of his right butt cheek, his fingertips touching the tattoo there. She hadn’t seen it when he’d been naked in her office, mainly because he hadn’t turned his back on her while he was naked. Truth be known, he’d forgotten the tat was there. It had, after all, been almost twenty-one years since he had it done.

  What was he going to say when she saw it?

  With a choppy breath, he removed his fingers from the tat, dragged them through his hair and turned from the window. He had to get ready. He had to show her that like the Minister for the Arts and Culture, he too could look irresistible in a tux.

  Picking up the suite’s phone beside the bed, he dialed his bodyguard’s room—two floors down. “Bruce, I need you to go get Nat…Ms. Thorton from her home for me.”

  “Does she know I’m coming, sir?”

  Jax laughed at Bruce’s deadpanned question. “Of course she does. By the time you get her, I’ll be ready for the premier.”

  He gave Bruce her address and then hung up, palms hot, stomach…churning. Damn it, why did he suddenly feel nervous? What the fuck?

  Dragging his hands—seriously, were they shaking?—through his hair, he hurried to the closet and withd
rew his suit, shirt and tie. Tie. Holy fuck, a tie.

  The sound of his mobile phone ringing stilled him.

  It’s Nat. She’s changed her mind.

  The thought shot through him like a dart of ice. Unsettled at the rollercoaster of emotions he was currently experiencing, he snatched up his phone and glared at it. He let out a wobbly laugh at the face and name staring up at him from the screen.

  Answering the call, he pressed the phone to his ear. “Strings.”

  “So you are still alive and in one piece then?” Samuel asked on the other end.

  Jax laughed. “She hasn’t killed me yet.”

  “Has she given you a name?”

  Jax pulled a face. “Bloody hell, Strings. I’ve only been here for a day.”

  “Then what the fuck have you been doing?”

  A rush of heat flowed over Jax’s body. Sex. Sex. Some more sex. Hmmm, did he need to tell Samuel that? “I had lunch with Nick today.”

  “Hey, that’s good. What’s he doing in Sydney?”

  “Believe it or not, he was here to see Nat as well. Did you know Josh is now a student at the Sydney Con?”

  “I did. His soccer career was killed due to an injury. A serious one.”

  “Apparently, he’s a bit of a wild one,” Jax said, picturing the young man he’d met at the Con who looked like a younger version of Nick. Now that he thought about it, Josh did walk with a limp. And a frown. “Remember how wild Nick was back in the day?”

  Samuel’s answering laugh was wry. “How wild we all were. Some of us are still there. Speaking of which, a name? Do I need to round up the rest of the guys and fly in to Sydney? We’re running out of time, you know. What’s she making you do?”

  Heavy tension wrapped Jax’s groin at Samuel’s question. “Why would she be making me do anything?”

  Another laugh sounded through the connection. “Because you stole her AC/DC record, you prick. And made her look like an idiot. And the pair of you were shacked up together talking about getting married when the shit hit the fan. And did I mention you stole her—”

  “All right, all right,” Jax grumbled. “You’ve made your point. I’ll get on it ASAP.”