by Wood, Vivian
“God damn it, Elly. Bartender! Send the bill to her room, please.”
“I am not going anywhere with you.”
“Don’t make me carry you. In that short little dress, I will make sure I flash your butt to everyone in the lobby.”
“You would not. You’re too jealous for that,” I tell him.
He stops short, then frowns at me.
“You wanna test that theory out, Elly?”
“I want a lot of things,” I tell him, winding up for a lecture. Then I stop, blinking. “Oh fuck, I am drunk.”
“Yup. Let’s go, Southern belle.”
“You like that, huh?” I ask as he grabs my arm and guides me toward the lobby.
“Almost nothing else about you at this moment is charming,” he says.
I make a disbelieving sound. We make it into the elevator before my mouth runs away with me again.
“That’s not what you were saying the other night. ‘Oh, Elly, you’re so… hot… and stuff’.”
Connor roars with laughter.
“I’m pretty sure you’re misquoting me there. I may have said you’re hot.”
“You said you loved the way my… pussy… felt.”
Connor sobered.
“Elly, don’t.”
I shrug.
“I’m not doing anything.”
We get out on my floor and head for my room.
“You did say that, though,” I remind him.
Connor stops, surprising me by pushing me up against the wall.
“Look at me, Elly.” I stare up at him, eyes wide. He’s dead serious, quiet and intense and angry. “Do you think I didn’t fucking love everything we did that night? I did. Do you think I don’t want to fuck you again? Of course I do. I’m doing what’s right for both of us, okay? So quit trying to get a rise out of me.”
“I wasn’t—” I start to say, but Connor just releases me and points toward my hotel room.
“Move it,” he says. “Let’s get you in bed.”
“Connor—”
“Elly. Stop talking.”
I’m ashamed to admit that I pout the whole time he checks over my hotel suite.
“Go change.” He points to my bedroom. “You going to bed right now, or are you going to stay out here and watch TV?”
“I don’t know. Bed, I guess.”
“Fine. I’ll be out here. Yell if you need me.”
And that’s it, he’s totally shut me down.
Fucking jerk.
I stomp into my room and try to slam the door, pissed as hell. It bounces and ends up open a few inches, but I can’t bring myself to do anything about it. I strip, drunk and awkward. I can’t find my pajamas and immediately give up. I flop onto the bed, and lay there angry.
Until a thought pops into my head…
It would be so wrong, but… I want to punish him. I want to make sure he’s as miserable as I am.
Biting my lip, I get up and sort through my suitcases. A lot of my stuff was destroyed by the stalker, but by pure luck he didn’t open the bag that I’d tucked away in the bathroom… the one with some of my personal beauty items. I open that one and dig all the way to the bottom, past weird face creams and bottles of dry shampoo.
I pick up a blue silk bag with a little box inside, a little longer than my hand and a few inches wide.
Bingo. The vibrator I keep around for… shall we say, relieving stress.
I pull it out of the box, twisting it to turn it on, making sure it still works. I haven’t used it in a long time. If ever there was a moment I needed a little relief, it’s now.
I shove the covers aside and lie back against the pillows. I feel a little jittery despite being drunk, and decide that I should start simply. Turning off the vibrator and laying it aside, I close my eyes. I cup my breasts, pinch my nipples hard, rolling them between my fingers.
Mmm. This is nice, comfortable.
I slide my hands down my stomach, over my hips and thighs. I can’t help but imagine that someone else is touching me. I can’t help imagine him, that Connor’s hands are squeezing my inner thighs. I find my slit with two fingers, gently teasing myself. When I circle my clit, I let out an exaggerated gasp of pleasure.
That’s more like it.
I get myself nice and excited and wet, thinking about his mouth on me, thinking about that hot tongue of his, thinking about how good it felt.
“Yes,” I whisper.
I grab my vibrator and turn it on. It’s not super loud, but I know the combination of whirrrrr and my soft moans is unmistakable. I tease myself with the vibrator, feeling my breasts tighten, heat flooding my veins.
I’m moaning, excited, actually getting really close without meaning to. I push the tip on the vibrator inside me just as Connor makes his appearance, slamming the door open wide.
And he’s pissed.
“What in the fuck, Elly,” is all he says as he storms over to the bed.
I freeze; I really hadn’t thought much farther than making him mad.
Mission accomplished.
“You need it that bad?” he asks, his eyes almost black with hunger. He grabs the vibrator and hurls it off the bed, furious. He rips his shirt off and unbuttons his jeans, shoving them down and kicking them away. “You need my cock, Elly?”
I bite my lip and look up at him. Damn, he’s fucking hot. Just pure muscle and tattoos all the way up and down, and the way he’s gripping his cock and staring down at me, I know he’s going to give me exactly what I need.
“Fuck me, Connor.”
My words ring out and already Connor is on me, chasing me up the bed like a fucking animal. He grabs me and flips me over, roughly shoving my face into the pillows.
“You are fucking bad,” he tells me, giving me a stinging slap on the ass.
My muffled sound of protest just makes him laugh, and he slaps my other cheek.
“Shut up and take what’s coming to you,” he tells me.
His hands pry my thighs apart and then he’s thrusting into me, filling me, stretching me as I grip the sheets and moan his name. His movements are raw and brutal, his hands grip my hips so hard that I can already feel red marks and bruises rising on my skin.
And I fucking love every second of it. I move with him, pushing back against him to take him harder and deeper, screaming my encouragement as he fucks me. He’s punishing me, but also giving me what I need, the only thing I’ve ever needed.
Connor’s hand glides over my lower back. He presses his thumb against the tightness of my ass, invading me in a new way. Possessing me. It’s too much, and not enough, and…
And and and I explode.
I scream so loud as it’s happening, but I can’t hear it. I’m deaf and dumb, drowning in the tide of heavy pleasure, little ripples that drag me down in Connor’s undertow. As I come, a rush of heat escapes me, soaking my thighs and Connor’s cock and the bed.
What the hell? I think, but Connor starts to come and I forget myself.
“Fuck, Elly,” he groans, thrusting into me with short, hard jerks. My core fills with the warmth of his seed as he comes, the ultimate satisfaction. I made him feel that way. I did that.
We both collapse. There’s nothing for a long time but the harsh sound of our breathing, sweat cooling on our bare skin. We don’t look at each other, we don’t cuddle.
Connor says it before I can.
“This is just sex,” he says. He’s not looking at me, intentionally directing his words up at the ceiling instead.
“Of course it is,” I say.
“Seriously, Elly—”
“Seriously, Connor. You’re the boy toy.”
He glances over with a scowl, and I laugh.
“Well you are,” I say with a shrug. “You said it first. It’s just sex. This,” I gesture to him, then myself, “Can never go any further. Besides, I like nice guys.”
His answering snort of disbelief is obnoxious. I grab the pillow from behind my head and slam it into his stomach, laughing
when he gives a surprised grunt.
“Is that how it’s going to be?” he asks.
“Yep.”
He takes the pillow and stuffs it behind his head, leaving me with no pillow.
“Guess they’re all mine, then.”
“See? You are an asshole.”
“Yep,” he mimics me and I laugh.
We’re quiet for a beat.
“Should I go sleep in my own room?” he asks, sounding casual.
“Only if you want to,” I say with a shrug. “I’m going to sleep.”
I roll over and wait to see what he’ll do.
How are you going to play this? Don’t fuck it up, dude.
He doesn’t, though. He throws my pillow back on top of my head and stretches out, closing his eyes and settling in. And he doesn’t move again after that.
I try to decide, on a scale from one to ten, how bad of a sign it is that I was holding my breath, hoping he wouldn’t leave.
No real surprise here. After all, what’s my new mantra?
I am a fucking idiot.
Chapter Twelve
Connor
I wake up to the persistent chirping of my cell phone. This is the second morning in a row that I wake up alone in my hotel bed after a wild night with Elly. With that little stunt she pulled the other night, getting me crazy worked up by breaking out her vibrator and proceeding to get herself halfway gone… yeah, something broke in me.
I fucked her that night. Long and hard and relentless. Woke up alone.
Last night she showed up in my hotel room, wearing nothing but a silky little robe. So of course, because I’ve lost all control over myself, I fucked her again. Woke up alone.
What the fuck kind of game we’re playing, I don’t know, but I don’t seem to be able to stop it. No matter how dangerous it’s become.
Fuck, I don’t think I even want to stop it, not anymore.
I sit up and grab my phone.
A text from Elly, which feels ridiculous.
Did u see this???
Then a link. I click it, thinking it’s going to be photos of us in TMZ or something. My paranoia about someone finding out what we’ve been doing is spiraling out of control, and fast.
Funny, because we’re supposed to be a couple. It was our strategy from the beginning.
I guess I’m more afraid that people will find out about our parents being together, and that they’ll smear Elly in the press. There’s just no way that she doesn’t get shat on for that little fact.
Now that there’s really some dirt to dig up, though, I’m fucking worried.
Like… like I’ve really got something to lose.
Fuck.
The link loads, and it’s a video. When my dad’s face pops up, I’m beyond confused. He’s sitting on the leather couch in his study at home in L.A.
“Hello friends and family!” he says. Then Lacy Parsons comes into the frame.
“Hello!” she echoes.
“We want to make a very special announcement,” my dad says. “We know it’s a little last minute… but we request your presence this weekend in Big Sur.”
“For our surprise wedding!” Lacy says, grinning ear to ear. “Are you surprised?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“See you this weekend! Wear something nice,” my dad says, and the video cuts off.
“God damn it,” I say aloud.
I’m about to call Elly, but then she makes an appearance in person.
“Hey,” she says, coming into my room carrying two paper cups. “Are you still in bed? Jesus, get dressed. I brought you a latte.”
“Elly, you can’t be coming in and out of here like this. What if someone sees you?” I ask, grabbing a pair of shorts and pulling them on.
She arches a brow.
“We have a pretty good cover story,” she says with a shrug.
“Not from your tour team. You know, the same people who call TMZ on you every time you step outside?”
She hands me the cup, and gives me a bored look.
“They’ve all signed a nondisclosure agreement.”
“Oh, well in that case.” I roll my eyes. “That’s not going to stop anyone from talking, El.”
“You worry too much,” she says. “Can we move on to the topic at hand?”
“Ugh, the wedding. I forgot for a second.”
“I wish I could forget forever.”
“No shit. Is there any way we can like… change the tour dates? I don’t think it’s a good idea for all of us to be seen there together.”
Elly’s brows arch in surprise.
“We have to go,” she says with a sigh. “Besides, my mom promised that it will be really small. Like just super close friends and family.”
“I don’t guess we can ask all of them to sign a nondisclosure agreement, can we?”
Elly looks thoughtful, but I wave her down.
“Don’t bother, I don’t think my dad or your mom will let us do that.”
“What if I play pop diva and refuse to go to the wedding without it?”
“Yeah… pretty sure that will only whip the gossips into a frenzy. The threat of an eventual lawsuit has never stopped L.A. gossips from doing or saying anything.”
Ask Rose about that one, I think. I don’t say it aloud, though. Now’s definitely not the time for that conversation.
Shit, will Rose be at the wedding?
“Aaaand you’re not even listening,” Elly says, slapping me on the arm.
“Hey,” I say, catching her around the waist. I pull her close, and the air between us heats instantly. We stare at each other, uncertain.
Is this a thing we do in the daytime? we both seem to be thinking.
Elly licks her lips, drawing my gaze there. Just as I’m about to say fuck it and kiss her, she pulls back and breaks from my embrace.
I let her go.
“We have to leave this afternoon,” she says, stepping away and sipping her coffee. “I’m assuming you don’t have a tux with you.”
“Nope.”
“Well… get some clothes on. I need a dress, so maybe we can go hit downtown Seattle and see what we can scare up. I booked us a private flight so that we can fly right into Big Sur. We have to hustle, though.”
I’m quiet for a second.
“Are you sure we can’t just skip it?” I ask. “We could just go to Fiji together instead.”
Elly gives me the weirdest look, like I just suggested something way too intimate.
“It’s a joke,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“Right. Yeah,” she says, giving the most halfhearted laugh I’ve ever heard.
“Meet you downstairs in twenty?”
“Fine,” she says. “Be prepared to shop hard.”
She stalks out of the room, leaving me to dress. And think about how fucking weird things are between us right now.
A night of sex has turned into a complete fucking mess.
I can’t even bring myself to feel surprised.
“Wow,” I say, looking around at the hotel lobby as I set down our suitcases. “Here’s your keycard for your private, separate room. So glad you insisted on making that clear to the desk clerk. Damn, this place is posh. ”
And it really is. It’s all dark marble and polished chrome, with big floor to ceiling windows that showcase the rocky beach all around us. The sun is setting, and the whole place is beyond impressive to me. Across the lobby I can see a big dining room, with waiters running around getting things ready.
Presumably, for my dad’s rehearsal dinner. The thought grounds me.
“I know,” Elly says, hoisting the plastic bags holding her dresses and my tux. “Puts the places I’ve stayed on tour to shame.”
“Yeah. I’m glad my dad’s paying for our rooms,” I say.
Elly rolls her eyes, but I’m serious. Money doesn’t mean anything to her, but every penny I earn goes straight into the bank. Some of us have bills to pay, big ones.
“Here, give me th
ose,” I say, taking the big pile of dress bags from Elly.
“Such a gentleman,” she snickers.
She’s probably referring to the fact that I got her off on the plane, my hand up her dress, and then kept making crude jokes about it in front of the stewardess.
“It was a private flight. They’ve seen worse, I promise you.”
“Can I help you?” A bellhop comes up with one of those gold rolling racks.
“Yeah, thanks. We’re in 313 and 314,” I tell him, pulling a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and sliding it into his palm. “Can you take them up for us? Just put them wherever and we’ll sort it out later.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re here!” comes a feminine voice.
I don’t even have time to prepare myself before a blonde blur lands in my arms, hugging the breath out of me. There’s no question who it is; five foot five of pure whirlwind energy, dressed in a barely-there red cocktail dress.
“Rosie,” I say. I can’t help but sound disappointed, but I was really hoping against hope that she would somehow not be here.
“Oh my gawd,” she says. She hugs me for way too long and kisses my neck before stepping back and looking me up and down with a brilliant smile. “You look so handsome, Con!”
“Thanks. You look fancy,” I say, eyeing her diamond earrings and heavy makeup, her blonde hair done up in an artful twist. Rose is done with me, though, and she’s moved on to Elly.
It’s everything I can do not to put an arm around Elly, protect her from whatever insanity is about to come.
“Oh, wow. You really are Elly Parsons,” Rose declares.
“Uh, yep.” Elly shifts in place, looking back and forth between us.
“I’ve heard… well, actually, not that much about you outside of the news.” Rose is going a million miles an hour, which is never a good sign. I wonder if she scored some cocaine on her way here, making her normal mania even more hair-raising. “Gosh, so nice to meet you, though!”
Rose steps over and hugs Elly with the same force she did me, and I just have this fucking sinking feeling in my gut. Rose is not going to make shit easy for anybody this weekend, Elly included.