Body Heat

by Mia Ford

  She kept smiling at me. “Oh yes, Mr. Walters, I have your reservation right here. We have the penthouse suite all ready for you sir. Your suite has amazing panoramic views of the city skyline and Central Park, and of course, a staircase that leads to your own private outdoor terrace, a conservatory, a fully stocked wet bar, and a library lounge. It also looks like you have requested a car and driver for your stay.”

  “You sound like a brochure,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

  The smile didn’t break, but she pushed her eyebrows up. “Sir?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Anything else?”

  She batted her long eyelashes at me and pursed her lips. “Is there anything else you need, sir? Anything I can do for you?”

  I smiled. She was hitting on me. Fucking groupies. They were everywhere. “No, not at the moment,” I said, holding out my hand. “Just need my key.”

  She tried not to look too disappointed. “Yes, here you are, sir.” She slid the key into my hand, then picked up a slip of paper and scribbled her name and number on it. She folded the paper and slid it across the counter to me. “That’s my number, in case you change your mind. I’m here till 6 A.M.”

  “Good to know,” I said, picking up the slip of paper and tucking it into my back pocket. I picked up my bag and smiled at her. You never know, I might get in the mood for a little Chinese takeout later tonight (okay, that joke was too corny even for me).

  “The elevator is across the lobby and down the hall,” she said, pointing. “You’ll need to insert your key to access the penthouse. Please let me know if you have any other… needs.”

  “I will,” I said with a smile. “I definitely will.”

  * * *

  The elevator opened directly into the penthouse and I walked through the cavernous space with my mouth hanging open. The place looked like an extravagant New York City apartment. I didn’t want to think about what the place was costing me per night. Mark took care of business. I just showed up and did my thing. However expensive it cost would come back to me a thousand-fold if the appearance on Good Morning Manhattan did what Mark thought it would do.

  The place was decked out to the max, from custom kitchen cabinets, granite countertops, marble floors, sound-proof windows, stainless steel everything, heated towel racks, a shower that would hold six people… the list just went on and on.

  I dropped my bag on the bed, then went back into the kitchen and found a bottle of Coors in the fridge and popped the cap as I walked through the penthouse to the rooftop terrace. The view was nothing short of amazing. The view alone was worth whatever the place cost per night. I could imagine sitting up there smoking a nice cigar and sipping brandy, a naked blonde with big tits rubbing the tiredness from my shoulders….

  Sometimes I wished that I had someone to share these moments with. I wished that I could find the perfect woman. The thing was, I wasn’t ready to settle down just yet. I knew I didn’t want kids anytime soon, and pretty much every woman I met—other than the groupies who were just out to fuck a famous guy— had the white picket fence and babies on their agenda. That’s one of the things I liked about Bree. Then again, she was not someone I could see myself with for the long haul. After blowing her off the other night, I’d probably never hear from her again. Sad to say, but I was just fine with that.

  I liked being able to call up a woman, have a night of mutual rough sex, and send them on their way. Married or unmarried, straight or bi, they all seemed to want a piece of Chad Walters. And why not? I didn’t train this hard and sculpt this body for nothing. And I sure wasn’t going to turn down a hot pussy when it invited me to come in (no pun intended).

  I don’t mean to be cocky, but I could literally walk down the street here in New York and have horny bitches following me like the Pied Fucking Piper. Trust me, I’d done it many times back in L.A.

  I’d even had multiple bitches at once more times than I could count. One fuck-fest in particular stood out in my mind. I couldn’t even recall their names because I was also a little fucked up at the time. It doesn’t even matter since they were just two random models who were in California for a photo shoot. They were sent to me for a quick workout before the shoot. They got one all right.

  In no time, I had them right where I wanted them and they were eager to please. Being new to California, they trusted and relied on every word that came from my mouth that day. I could have lied my brains out, but I didn’t. I kept it real. It’s crazy how a few sexually-implied, sarcastic comments lead to dripping pussy’s craving to be fondled, fucked and eaten. Is this a great country or what?

  To be completely fair, they came onto me first and I didn’t resist. One right after the other, I fucked them both that day. In and out of one pussy, then slamming my cock directly into the next. It was like a fucking assembly line of pussy. I had them bent over my bed with their legs spread for three fucking hours straight!

  I drilled my cock into their pussies and even pulled out a few sex toys I kept on hand for special occasions. They took everything I gave them and begged for more, even right down to the nipple clamps and Benwa balls. I got hard watching the sweet pain on their faces as I clamped their throbbing, perky nipples with the clamps. We played a game of sexual chicken, doing wild and crazy shit to one another until someone screamed STOP!

  Either they didn’t want to be the first to yell stop, or like me, they just enjoyed the pain. Either way, they kept spreading their legs and begging for more.

  We went at it with such force I was sore for days. I let each one orgasm in my mouth after an hour of rough foreplay. After the first orgasm, they thought I was done, that the sex was over. Rookies! I was just getting started.

  I left the clamps on their nipples and handcuffed them to the pull-up bar on my wall. They grinned, smiled and squealed with delight once both their hands were held securely above their heads. I got the impression this was not their first time at S&M.

  I got down on my knees and sucked one of their clits until she orgasmed. Then, I moved over to the next pussy and did the same thing. I repeated this for two more orgasms each. They were squealing like little kids on a rollercoaster ride.

  I grabbed the thigh bar I kept under my bed and tied it to the one girl’s ankles to keep her legs spread. I added some weights to her nipple clamps and watched her moan in ecstasy. I asked her if she wanted me to stop. She said, “No fucking way!” Chastised, I kept going.

  I grabbed two more clamps and knelt before her exposed pussy. I clamped those two clamps on each labia and attached the chain to both nipple weights. This kept her pussy wide open for me and, I had to say, it was all I could do not to shoot my load just watching her squirm. Every move made the weights pull her nipples. I watched her struggle to stay still as I played with her clit. She moaned with delight.

  I grabbed a handful of anal beads and squirted some lube on them. I could see the wanting look in the other girl’s eyes who watched as I played around with her friend.

  “Fuck me, too,” she whined. “I want beads in my ass, too.”

  It was hard not to fuck them both right there. God knows I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to end playtime just yet. I just let my cock bounce and rub against their clits as I continued playing in the taller girl’s ass. She knew what was coming. She didn’t object as I slowly inserted a few beads into her ass. I licked her clit as they slid inside her. She moaned and wiggled her cunt against my face.

  I was sure this was far more than what they expected the evening was going to be. Hell, it was more than I expected. However, they were in my world now and I was the one in control. I doled out the pleasure and pain. I said who could cum and when. They didn’t seem to mind. They just kept moaning and egging me on.

  After I had all but a few beads in her ass, I licked her clit and slowly pulled out all the beads one by one. She moaned and gushed hot juices all over my face.

  As soon as her orgasm was done, I stood up, removed one nipple clamp, sucking her nipple after I removed it. Ag
ain, she screamed with pleasure. I did the same to the next nipple. I slid my hand down to her sopping cunt and shoved two fingers inside her and started fingering her hard. With three fingers hammering into her, I pressed my thumb to her clit and forced another orgasm. After that, she was spent. I removed all the clamps and released her wrists. She lay peacefully on the bed and watched me give her friend the same pain and pleasures I’d given her.

  We ended the night with me flat on my back and my big cock sticking up like a flagpole. They were both working my cock, pumping the long shaft, taking turns licking and sucking the head, kneading and sucking my balls, probing my tight asshole with their tongues and fingers. When I told them to watch me pop, they clenched their hands around the shaft and milked me like a machine. I shot hot ropes of milky cum three feet into the air. It splashed down over their hands onto my stomach and balls. The girls squealed and lapped it up like hungry kittens around a bowl of milk.

  Yeah, bitches, good times…

  I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes to breath in the warm night air. Yes, a nice woman to share this lovely rooftop terrace would be nice. Hell, it would be a perfect place to have some nice open-air sex. It was private, secluded, nice padded furniture, maybe drag a mattress out here, maybe just whip out my cock and jerk off into the night...

  My cellphone ringing jarred me from my fantasy. I tugged the phone from my back pocket and saw Martin’s image on the screen. I slid to answer the call on speaker.

  I leaned my elbows on the rail and said, “Hey, Martin.”

  “I assume you got all checked in,” he said. “Need anything else? Is the place stocked with everything you need?”

  “It’s stocked to perfection Martin,” I said with a sigh. “I appreciate you spending my money on such lavish digs, but you didn’t have to book the penthouse. I can sleep anywhere you know.”

  “Yeah, right, like you’d be fine at Motel 6.”

  “Well, maybe not that,” I said.

  “Look, you just enjoy it and rest up so you kick ass on Good Morning Manhattan on Monday. I can’t be there, but I’ll be watching you online!”

  “Okay, I’ll try not to fuck it up,” I said. The truth was, I’d been on TV more times than I could count. This should be a walk in the park.

  I hung up with Martin and walked into the bedroom. I started to get undressed for bed, then realized I was too keyed up to sleep. And after thinking about the S&M session with the models, more than a little horny.

  I made sure I had my cellphone and room key in my back pocket, then rode the private elevator down to the lobby bar. If I struck out there, I would pay a little visit to the sweet young thing who was still smiling at me from behind the front desk.

  CHAPTER FIVE: Zoe

  Mark’s voice was cold as ice when he answered the phone. It sent a chill down my spine when he said, “What?”

  I cleared my throat and tried to force the nervousness out of my voice. “Hi, it’s me. I was hoping you’d have time to meet up for a few minutes tomorrow.”

  “I think I said everything I needed to say the other night,” Mark said, sighing like he was bored. “So why don’t you just fuck off?”

  I held out the phone and stared at the screen in awe. It would have been so easy to go ballistic on his ass at that moment, given the number of times he’d lied to me and jerked me around. But I knew that wouldn’t do anything but make a bad situation worse. I took a deep breath and forced myself to be calm. “Look, Mark, I know I shouldn’t have called you. And maybe I should have given you notice about the trip, but… well, I just thought maybe—”

  “Maybe what, Zoe? Maybe I’d be over being lied to and hurt? Maybe I’d have calmed the fuck down enough to listen to your bullshit reasons and excuses? Give me a fucking break! Do you know how many times we’ve talked and how many chances you had to tell me that you were leaving New York for fucking Costa Rico for a month? Maybe you don’t, but I sure do!”

  “I didn’t call to argue,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to be strong. “I just wanted to see you Mark. To explain and to apologize.”

  “Fuck you and your apology,” he growled. “You never meant anything to me anyway. You were just some bitch I fucked.”

  “You don’t mean that,” I said, my eyes welling with tears. I wasn’t sure what I expected from Mark, but it wasn’t this. I never expected this.

  “I do mean it,” he said. He breathed heavy in my ear for a moment. “Goddammit, Zoe, why didn’t you just tell me? Why did I have to learn that you were leaving town in the goddamn literary column of the newspaper?”

  “The publisher wasn’t supposed to issue a press release until next week,” I said, my voice pleading for understanding. “There was a mix-up in the PR department and the release went out early. I’m sorry, Mark, really, I was going to tell you. I would never hurt you that way. You must know that”

  “Well, you did,” he huffed, sounding more and more like a hurt child than a scorned lover. “You hurt me more than you will ever know.”

  Even though my eyes were full of tears, they rolled at that comment. I wiped a knuckle under my nose and sniffed back the tears. “Look, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever,” he said. “What do you have to say for yourself now, you fucking cunt? I just wish that I’d had the good sense to videotape that fuck-fest in the bathroom. Miss hotshot bestselling author getting her cunt banged to shit in a hotel bathroom. The world would finally see you for who you really are, Zoe Maxell, you fucking skank!”

  “Mark…” I held the phone up to my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs. “FUCK YOU!!!!”

  I hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch beside me. The tears came quickly and angrily, red hot as they flowed down my cheeks. What a low-life piece of shit cocksucker he was. I couldn’t believe there was a time when I actually thought I loved that man. If I never saw him again that would be just fine with me.

  The really sad part was that I felt like I had wasted months of my life having an affair with Mark. I knew he would never leave his wife. Hell, that was part of the attraction. I wasn’t looking for love and neither was he. I just wanted to fuck him and he readily complied. Then we kept on fucking and it turned into a thing: a thing I was starting to regret more by the moment.

  Mark wasn’t even that good in bed. He rarely made me cum. All he cared about was getting his rocks off and being on his way. There was rarely foreplay before and never cuddling after. It was almost like I was his whore. He’d drop by unannounced, fuck me without ever taking his shoes off, and he’d be gone. The only difference was that he didn’t leave money on the dresser for covering me with his sweat and goo.

  I can’t explain why, but I was suddenly overcome with a strong feeling of remorse, as if I’d lost someone truly dear to me. I wasn’t crying for Mark. I cried for myself. I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled them to my chest and sobbed like a brokenhearted child.

  At that moment, I felt completely alone, totally unloved, and without hope. How could my professional life be so fucking fantastic while my personal life felt so fucking miserable? Someone once said that a writer’s life was the loneliest because there just the writer and the blank page and no one else. I had never agreed with that old saying until now.

  * * *

  After my self-pity party, I went into the bathroom to dry my tears and blow my nose. I splashed cold water on my face and stared at myself in the mirror for a moment. My phone was on the counter and it buzzed with a number I didn’t recognize. Another telemarketer, no doubt. They hung up when the call went to voicemail.

  “Graham is right,” I said to the woman staring back at me through red eyes. “You do not know how great your life can be.” I hung the towel over the rack and leaned in close to the mirror. “Maybe it’s time you take control of your life rather than letting your life control you.”

  I turned off the light and went into the living room. Graham h
ad sent over two-hundred books for me to sign in advance of the Good Morning Manhattan appearance. The producers agreed to let me give away books, but didn’t have time for me to sign them onset, so I was doing it head of time. I sat down at the coffee table and opened the first box, calculating in my head how long it would take me to sign two hundred copies.

  My mind wandered as I opened the first book and scribbled my name across the page. I tried to remember the first book I’d ever signed. It had been so many years now, so many books.

  I had started my career ghostwriting sweet romances for a publisher who put them out under another name. Gradually I went from writing sweet romances to risqué to all out erotica. When I saw my dirtiest books regularly selling thousands of copies for the publisher, I started writing and self-publishing my own books under my name. After a few books, I started hitting the Amazon charts. That’s when Graham found me and the rest is history.

  That’s when I started calling on my own sexual memories for inspiration. It wasn’t until I wrote Pleasing Him that my relationship with Chad Walters ended up in a book. Only his name wasn’t Chad. It was Brad. Brad Wallace. And the heroine’s name was Chloe Manning. I know, pretty close, but I seriously doubted Chad would ever read the book, much less make the connection.

  Pleasing Him was my hottest, steamiest, filthiest book yet. And readers loved it. Little did they know that every sex act in the book was based on a real memory of sex with Chad.

  There was nothing made up in this book.

  Every fuck and suck and probe and tuck were real.

  I had to sit on a towel when I wrote the book because my cunt would simply overflow.

  Maybe that’s why the book was climbing the bestseller lists and the crowds at the book signings got bigger every week.

  It was all so real, one critic wrote, like it really happened.

  Sister, if only you knew.

  CHAPTER SIX: Chad

  I hung up the phone when I got Zoe’s voicemail.