by Mel Curtis
Hollywood Confidential
Mel Curtis
Copyright © 2016 by:
Mel Curtis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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160923.023741
Introduction
Welcome to the sexy secrets of Breaking the Rules!
I began writing this fun contemporary series in 2011. The books are centered around the children of Dooley Rule, a life coach to the rich and famous in Hollywood. When he dies, his silver-spooned children must become life coaches to earn their inheritance. Do they know anything about being life coaches? No. And they’re a bit clueless about love, too.
I’m several books and novellas into the series now (6!), and occasionally a reader will message me to say they read all the sexy parts over again. Liking the sexy parts myself, I went back recently and reread them. What fun to revisit different characters and enjoy how they approach sexy-time on their way to a happily-ever-after! Fans of the series know, it’s not always great sex at the get-go. I’m not afraid to have my characters struggle a bit to find the groove, even if sparks are flying.
This book is a compilation of sexy scenes and expanded sexy scenes from the series, plus new, never-before published bonus scenes with dirty exes and previous hook-ups. Each chapter presents a character’s escapades with short introductions in case you’ve forgotten (or haven’t read) the story/scene set-up and includes enough backstory that if you read all of a character’s sexy past, you get an idea of how they’re growing and changing through the series. The scenes are short enough that you can read them on break and there are enough of them that you can while away an hour.
Enjoy!
Mel Curtis
Evan Oliver and Amber Rule
Main Characters in Book 1: Playing for Love
Evan might just be the biggest bad-ass in the NBA, except he’s in a slump and his team owner, Jack Gordon, forces him to agree to life coaching from Amber Rule, who Evan happened to bump into courtside. And by bump into, I mean Evan landed on top of Amber, as she was yelling these words of encouragement: You can score! He’s Jonesing for her, but determined that he won’t be controlled by anyone–not Jack, not Amber, and certainly not the ghosts of his past.
Amber hasn’t been lucky in love. Maybe that’s because growing up she dated too many gorgeous, shallow celebrities. She can’t afford to have sex with Evan. She’s the CEO of the Dooley Foundation now. She has to keep her eye on earning her three million dollar a year inheritance. If only Evan’s touch didn’t make her want him in ways a CEO shouldn’t want a client. What follows is their sexual journey toward love.
Evan poured himself a glass of orange juice and flipped to the sports section. One look at the featured photo and his troubles were temporarily forgotten. In the photo, he and Amber Rule were smokin’ on the hardwood.
While Evan made himself a six-egg omelet, a bowl of oatmeal and a protein shake, he kept coming back to stare at the photo, his mind honed onto Amber.
He’d Googled her on his laptop last night when he got home and was surprised at the number of links he’d found, not to mention what those links revealed. Amber had been heavy in middle school and lost weight. She struggled with academics in high school, but by college she had her act together, at least until she’d dropped out. And she owed all the positive changes to life coaching from Dooley Foundation. At least, that’s what her father, Dooley Rule, wanted people to think. Amber quotes were conspicuously absent from the numerous clips the Foundation had posted on their web site and YouTube. And in the few posed pictures he’d found of Amber with superstar Kent Decklin on the red carpet, Amber had looked as if she was gritting her teeth in pain. She was definitely not your average L.A. media slut.
And then there was the slam dunk: the all-too-brief sex video recorded by that scumbag Kent Decklin, resulting in her first and only press release, requesting people respect her privacy. Evan hadn’t respected her privacy. He’d paid for and then played the close-up of Amber’s heaving, ample breasts and listened carefully to the audio. Several times. Until he could almost sing the Amber’s Coming Sonata.
Yippee-ki-yay. He liked a woman who wasn’t predictable. Who would’ve thought Amber Rule had so many intriguing layers?
The problem was he shouldn’t see her at all, not when Jack Gordon wanted him to. All through high school Evan had been pushed by his dad to compete, to beat down his competition, to be the best at all costs. And when that happened, when Evan was a nationally ranked college player about to be drafted by the NBA, his father had continued to try and control him. No one was going to tell Evan what to do anymore, even if there was an NBA contract hanging in the balance.
His right quadricep muscle cramped. Evan stretched and massaged the knot beneath the old scar.
After a few tentative paces, Evan thumped the counter with his fist. He wanted this NBA deal to stick. He was in peak condition. He sunk his shots in practice. What was wrong with his game? Dicking around with some life coach babe would only make his game worse.
Evan pushed his plate away.
What was he worried about? The Dooley Foundation was selling dreams. Dreams didn’t happen without hard work and even then no one could guarantee them. Amber Rule wasn’t going to solve any of Evan’s problems with a sunny smile. All Evan needed to do was keep his pants on, prove to Jack that the Rules were crap and that Amber Rule wasn’t a suitable life coach.
Hold up. Evan smiled. Taking Amber to bed was right in line with proving she shouldn’t be coaching him. Everybody knew you didn’t sleep with your clients, even in L.A. The mighty Jack Gordon had to agree. If the energy between them still popped the next time he and Amber met and they got busy, all was good. And Evan would have one less coach in his life. Then he could concentrate on winning games.
Finished with breakfast and in a much better mood, Evan stripped as he walked down the hall, leaving a trail of clothing his housekeeper, Rosa, would pick up while he was at practice today.
What would Amber think of the house?
Would she make suggestions to warm the place up? Would she laugh if she saw his weight room with pictures of Batman and Dracula? Would the uncovered windows bother her when they made love, her bare breasts pressed against the glass?
Her urgent words echoed in his head: You can score!
He planned to.
By the time Evan reached his bedroom, he was naked and hard and imagining Amber Rule’s red hair spread across his gray satin sheets. He lay down on his back on the bed and played Amber’s orgasmic sex tape on his phone, stroking his shaft to the rhythm of her cries. She’d enfold him in a tight, wet, hot grip as he plunged inside her. He’d suckle those melon-size titties and pound his way to heaven. And pound and pound, until he couldn’t hold back his cum any longer. Until he was the one who made her voice rise and crest, and rise again.
He came in a shuddering release to the tune of her sweet, sweet voice.
He played the video one more time. Those tits. That needy voice. His dick stiffened and throbbed for the real thing. Fucking her would be intense. It had to happen.
And then he’d use that as leverage to discredit her with Jack.
Would Amber let him bang her after Jack fired her? Probably not, which was a pity.
Evan had to make the limited time he had with Amber count.
But he was good at managing the clock.
Later in this romance, Jack Gordon arranges for Evan and Amber to meet. What’s supposed to be a casual meet-and-greet with drinks turns into something more…
The first orchestral strains of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing swelled from the speakers.
“I believe this is our dance.” Evan tugged Amber’s arm until she slid off the bar stool. His gaze was lethal to her libido. She felt caught up in the inevitable, but he paused, letting her choose.
And then, because he wasn’t the type of guy to play fair, he let his hand drift, let his thumb graze the side of Amber’s breast.
Her breath caught. Her body throbbed in places dusty from lack of a man’s touch.
Evan must have sensed her acceptance, because he led Amber onto the slowly strobing dance floor, his hand locked with hers, his touch accelerating the pulse she’d been trying to control all night.
He leaned down to speak in her ear, his breath as warm as the breeze off a tropical ocean. “Run with this.”
How far? How far was she willing to run?
Her brain ran through a litany of limits like a chaperone on prom night. Hands above the waist. Controlled kisses. Doors open. Lights on.
It was dark on the dance floor when Evan drew Amber’s arms around his neck. The top of her head came to his shoulder. With her arms up, her breasts had nowhere to go except against his chest. And his hands…They smoothed her dress down her back and over her butt, lingering, pressing her hips toward him.
She elbowed his hands off, gaining some much needed space. “Foul.”
They were still near enough that she felt him chuckle.
Bodies jostled them close again until every inch of his hard body was plastered against hers, heating her limbs, melting resistance.
Steven Tyler crooned in his broken voice about sweet surrender. Amber would enjoy the song, but not surrender.
And yet, Evan smelled of soap and the promise of sex. Her eyes closed. Her pulse raced. Lady Land was ignoring the slow beat and doing a Going-to-My-Happy-Place samba.
Evan’s muscled thighs, his sturdy chest, his strong arms. They created breath-stealing friction. If her smashed nipples could talk, they’d be whispering, “Touch me like you want me bad.”
Too close, her brain shouted desperately.
His hands–his big, strong hands!–had returned to her ass. He gave her a good squeeze. Right there, on the sardine-packed dance floor.
Go-go-go, Lady Land shouted.
Stop-stop-stop, her brain was now a muted, muffled cry.
“You feel…” Whatever he said was lost in the swell of music. He lifted Amber’s leg, curling it around his hip, practically lifting her off the ground. And then his other hand pressed her against his hard-on.
Amber’s eyes flew open and she met his heavy-lidded stare. She should stop him. Except no one noticed. No one cared.
Other than Amber. Amber noticed. Amber cared.
She cared about the hum of electricity in her veins and the piercing ache of her nipples. She cared about the promise of urgent, passionate sex and the pungent smell of man on her skin.
“Run with it,” he said, nuzzling her cheek.
Amber was ready to run. She didn’t protest when his fingers on her thigh shifted. She didn’t protest when those digits glided along the edge of her panties. She didn’t protest when he caressed her outer folds.
Evan wanted her so bad, he couldn’t resist touching her. She hadn’t been irresistible to a man in what seemed like forever. Being wanted like this was heaven.
Light flashed out of sync with the strobe.
Startled, Amber stiffened and jerked her head around, brain coming back online. Paparazzi weren’t allowed in, but Amber felt as if her picture had been taken. The spell was broken.
What Evan was doing to her was sinful and tempting, but also controlling and demeaning. He wasn’t even kissing her. He was just testing how needy Amber was.
She may be needy, but she needed to be in control.
Amber placed both high heeled feet on the ground, grabbed onto the shaggy brown hair behind Evan’s ears and pulled his mouth within reach. “Run with this.” Amber traced his lips with her tongue, staring into his eyes as if to say he was hers to play with. And then she claimed his mouth.
Kent had always told Amber she was a fantastic kisser. Of course, Kent had lied a lot. But by the way Evan began struggling for breath, Amber figured maybe Kent hadn’t lied about that.
Steven Tyler stopped singing and Evan drew back, staring at Amber with an expression that seemed…well…surprised.
The D.J. spun Pink’s latest hit. Without a word, Amber led Evan deeper into the club, dodging couples that were just catching the faster rhythm. She had a rhythm of her own and it was pounding out a beat in Lady Land.
Her heart thumped as they left the noise of the dance floor and headed down the dimly lit hallway that led to the back stairs and the balcony. She’d proved her point, but he’d turned her on. She still wanted him, but on her terms. She led him to the shadowy space beneath the stairs, turned to face him…and had second thoughts.
He didn’t give her time to voice them. He backed her into the corner and ran his hands down the sides of her breasts, her waist, her hips. But that was all he did. His hands didn’t hesitate on her hips, they waited.
For what?
For her to change her mind.
The time to back out was now. Lady Land pulsed with regret. But there was a stronger pulse in her temples, an angry pulse. He hadn’t been able to leave her alone on the dance floor. “What are you waiting for, damn it?”
“An invitation.” Tangling his fingers in Amber’s hair, Evan dragged her to him for a feverish kiss that demanded more than lips became involved.
He crushed Amber against his hard, unyielding body, using his long arms and sizable hands to bind them together. It took only moments for Amber’s pelvis to strain against each grind of his hips as if they were naked and he was inside of her. It was decadently thrilling and dangerously hot.
She forgot who she was and where she was. She was melting, from legs to lips. She didn’t care. She clung to those broad shoulders and she answered every demanding stroke he made with his tongue and his dick with a challenge of her own: More. Give me more.
Evan drew back to do just that, working a hand inside the bodice of her dress between lace and flesh. She arched when he dug his fingers into her breast, arched farther when he rolled and flattened her nipple. He had her gasping for air and burning for a more intimate touch. For sex. Full body, deep friction, fast pounding sex.
He was big and hard, powerful and demanding. Sex with Evan would be rough and urgent, nasty and satisfying. She wanted it. She wanted him.
But not here. Not where they might be discovered. She had to keep her head. Just one more kiss…One more steamy touch.
Their kisses had slowed to a heavy panting of lips against each other when Evan’s other hand slipped inside Amber’s panties. He found her juices with a knuckle, drenching his fingers as he splayed them across her channel.
Amber practically leapt on top of him. She was primed. It was time to stop.
He didn’t. He thrust a finger inside of her. Deep. She moaned into his mouth, a primal sound that didn’t begin to express her pleasure. And she couldn’t make herself go silent, not when he was plundering her with that finger, banging the rest of his fist against her pelvis hard enough to rock her off her feet. She clung to his shoulders and his mouth as the tension built toward a hot, numbing explosion. Her moans took on the rhythm of his thrusts as she came undone, her heat spilling around him, her limbs shaking.
This is what depravation did to a woman.
It made her greedy and wanton. It made her squeeze a stranger’s finger until the last wave of pleasure receded. It took the edge off, but it didn’t take the edge of wanting away.
He pressed his palm against her breast as he slid it free. He dragged his finger along her clit as he pulled out.
Desire hung in the balance between them.
She could invite Evan home. Or at least to her dad’s house, the one she had to live in while fulfilling the conditions of his w
ill. She wouldn’t take Evan into the room with whips and chains. Although…depending on where Evan lived, his place might be closer and stocked with condoms. Guys were good about buying large quantities of condoms.
Without realizing it, her fingers had hooked onto the waistband of his slacks.
Don’t reach for his dick. Show some class.
Decide. His place or yours.
After that encounter, Amber tries to set things back on a life coach-client level with Evan, but through a series of mishaps, whereby Amber gets knocked to the ground on a basketball court again, Evan ends up following her home. And although they’re hot for each other, this is one of those sexual experiences no one wants to relive.
“Moving in?” Evan looked back over his shoulder at Amber.
She glared at him. He’d set out to make things difficult for Amber. Mission accomplished. He should leave it at that, but Evan couldn’t, not when just looking at her made him hard.
He entered the small retro pink tiled bathroom and–Eureka –discovered some Band-Aids and antiseptic. “The doctor is in.” He took her delicate hands in his and tenderly soaped them up. “You were a trooper today.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yep. Bo and Petey will quake with fear the next time you step out on the court.” He inspected Amber’s hands to make sure he’d gotten all the dirt and gravel out. How often had his father done the same thing when Evan was a kid? Patched him up, given him a pep talk and then sent him back out again to do battle with the bigger kids in the neighborhood.
“You’re smiling,” Amber said in a voice stubbornly fighting defeat. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Never.” He must have been. Memories of his father didn’t amuse him.
What was wrong with this picture?
Evan wet a hand towel and knelt at Amber’s feet to clean her knees, which put his face level with her pot of gold.