Zane Page 5

  “Don’t do it to me again,” she pleads, breathless in between our wet kisses.

  Ignoring her pleas, I reach for the waistband of her shorts and pull them down, lowering my hand to her bare pussy, touching the soft, hairless skin, probing the tender flesh. She’s wet and eager despite her weak protests, and bucks her hips against my hands.

  “Let me in,” I whisper to her. “I need you.” I stroke her clit and capture her bottom lip with my teeth, gently pulling it.

  “No,” she squeals, pushing her hands against my chest. Her eyes sad, her expression confused, her lips swollen from my kisses, her breasts exposed, she moves away from me. However, my finger remains between the lips of her pussy, the pad of my thumb rubbing tenderly against her labia.

  She turns her head to her side and closes her eyes, looking ashamed of her reaction against my hand. Her clit quivers with want, her lips whispering quiet protests one after another.

  Her weakness is my strength, the reason why I’ve kept coming back to her.

  “I want you!” I urge and flip her around, her back against me, and pull her ass against my crotch, grinding myself against her soft ass cheeks until I’m rock hard.

  Releasing my cock through the fly of my pants, I press the head against her wet opening and wait for her to take over. I know I’m playing with her mind for leaving that decision to her but I wait for her to wiggle her ass and open up for me.

  And open up she does, sliding her swollen pussy lips around my cock, her inner walls convulsing hard as they swallow my shaft in a hungry gulp. I pull back before filling her completely, but she grinds and pushes against me.

  I can hear her sobs getting louder with each thrust of my cock. I hate hearing her cry, being the reason for her tears. I’ve heard enough sobs in my life that I can’t bear the sound of it anymore. It hurts my ears and slashes my soul.

  On the other hand, her tears are the proof that her heart is still beating for me. Why should I go through the trouble of seeking a woman good enough to share my life with, when there’s already a girl who meets all the criteria, plus loves me deeply for who I am?

  She’s familiar with my darkness and knows the scars of my soul that’ll never recover no matter how many therapy sessions I attend. Not just that, she’s become expert at distracting me and making me forget about my pain, albeit momentarily. I should give her a chance. She’s stood by me for so many years; that’s the only fair thing to do.

  With renewed keenness, I circle my hands around her slim waist to thrust harder into her, allowing the rhythmic slaps of our bodies as the only distraction to my senses. Her sobs turn into moans of ecstasy quickly, and her hands reach back and grab my hips to encourage me to ram harder into her. I do and give her the rough strokes that she needs to come.

  Closing my eyes, I throw my head back, pushing away all thoughts and embracing the softness of her body enmeshed around me. Her pussy starts pulsating; her body tenses in an instant, and a loud shrill cry escapes her lips when she reaches her peak. Then, she stills. Her body goes limp, as she collapses into my arms when the waves of orgasm subside. Her vitality is gone and transferred into me.

  She’s given me a piece of herself and trusted me with her vulnerability.

  That’s the difference between fucking a long-term lover and a random woman, and as much as I love variety, sex in an established relationship is more satisfying.

  My cock becomes harder inside her surrendered body, my balls tight and aching. Wrapping my arms around her, I slide into her harder and jet my release inside her, inhaling her familiar perfume, burying my face in her hair.

  I hold her tight for long moments until I’m flaccid and my cock slides out of her. She turns around to face me and rests her head against my chest, her sobs back in full force. My chest tightens as the sound of her sobs echo in my ears.

  Holding her chin, I urge her to face me. “Why are you crying?”

  She glances up at me with sad eyes. Those aren’t the tears of joy after reaching an earth-shattering orgasm. She’s crying because she’s miserable.

  She’d never had a happy and optimistic constitution and her gloomy mood has soured even more over the years, perhaps due to my lack of commitment. I hate being the reason for her heartache, but her dark mood reminds me of the very reason why I never considered being exclusive with her.

  She doesn’t have Lindsay’s strength and unbreakable willingness to survive and be happy on her own. I have enough black clouds in my life; I can’t handle carrying someone else’s misery, too.

  I need someone to lift me up and show me the sunny side of life, not to weigh me down with depression. If I choose Penelope to be my only mate, we’ll drown each other with our sorrow, and it’s no good for either of us.

  “I love you, Zane. I’ll always love you.” She runs her fingers along my jaw, her eyes locked on mine. “But this was a mistake. We both know it. I can’t allow you back into my life. I’m still in the process of getting over you.”

  Her words make me feel relieved and angry in equal parts. I’m not used to being turned down.

  “I’m aware you’ll never love me back the way I love you. I wish you did, but I can’t hang onto that hope anymore,” she continues. “I met someone else. He’s caring and ready to commit to me.”

  Another man? I should have thought of that. “Who is he?” I frown and pull my hands back from her body, my anger tensing my muscles.

  She trembles without the support of my hands, her eyes growing large in shock and dismay. “It doesn’t matter. I’m only trying to say that this won’t happen again. You’re not capable of giving me what I need, so you have to respect my decision to move on.”

  “You don’t know what kind of men there are out there. They’ll use you and take advantage of you until you become useless to them.” I’ve been in her life for long enough to know she’s not the brightest bulb out there and prioritizes the wrong qualities in men.

  “You should know,” she says with a sarcastic tone. “You’ve been one such man. You used me for years and fucked me along with hundreds of other women. I don’t think any other man will stoop lower than that.”

  Ouch! But, she’s right. “I just want the best for you.”

  “The best for me?” Her lips curve into a painful smile. “If you wanted the best for me, you wouldn’t have wasted my best years. You gave me nothing but eight miserable years. Have you any idea how much it hurts to see you going to another woman, reading news about you being involved with someone else? I can’t continue living like this. I’m done. I need someone who’ll cherish me and only me.”

  “Penelope, I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m ready to—” A knock on the front door interrupts me.

  “Penelope!” A man yells from behind the door.

  “Oh, God!” Penelope quickly pulls up her shorts and straightens her tank top, wiping the tears away as she heads for the door. I tug my flaccid cock back in and zip up, curious about the unexpected visitor.

  Coughing to clear my throat, I stand tall behind Penelope while she opens the door. “Emmett,” she says and throws herself into the visitor’s arms.

  Emmett Nielson. The son of the owner of Nielson industries and Nielson Network Channel, which means one of HMG’s main competitors. Is Emmett now Penelope’s new lover? I doubt he’ll be able to fill up the emptiness I left in her heart and…well also in her pussy. I can’t even imagine him even trying to give her half the pleasures I’ve given her over the years. It’s laughable, really. Not because he’s in his forties with his weak body and receding hairline, but also he’s a pussy. He’s never grown out of his father’s shadow and even once pushed the company into bankruptcy during the one time his father trusted the company to him. Penelope is selling herself short.

  “Penelope.” He shoots me a sharp glare, his voice demanding. “What is he doing here?” He steps in the condo with an unshakable confidence as if he owns the entire building and grabs Penelope’s hand possessively.

  “H
e just, ahh.” Penelope’s voice trembles along with her lips while she’s trying to come up with an excuse for my unexpected visit.

  “Hello, Emmett.” I cut her off to save her from the awkward situation. “The real question is; what are you doing in the condo I bought for my lover?”

  He attempts to laugh at my comment, but it comes out pathetic and weak, just like everything else about him. “She’s not your lover and she doesn’t need you anymore.” Then, he turns to Penelope, softening his voice. “Isn’t that so, Penelope?”

  “Yes. I’ll move out.” She covers their entwined hands with her other hand and moves closer into his body.

  “You don’t have to. It might be a gift from me, but it’s yours. Keep it or sell it. It’s up to you,” I say curtly.

  Penelope’s eyes drift back and forth between Emmett and me, hesitation and worry clear in her glance.

  As much as I despise Emmett, it’s not my place to pick the right lover for Penelope, and I’d be an asshole if I came between her new lover and her. “I’ll go now. Call me if you need anything.” I walk past Emmett and stop at the doorway to give him one last glance of warning.

  “You’re walking a thin line,” he calls after me, his tone intimidating. “I’d be very careful if I were you.”

  Two heavily built men in black suits wait in front of the door, along with another one in front of the elevator, and all look ready to attack. I consider my chances were Emmett to sic his men on me. Basically, null. But, he’s not that much of a fool to have me beat up in a relatively public place with surveillance cameras and potential witnesses all around. If he wants to strike, which I have a strong belief that he will, he’ll do it with much less risk of getting caught.

  “Did he fuck you?” I hear him ask Penelope as I leisurely walk toward the elevator. Penelope’s answer “No,” comes out almost inaudible and I wonder how she’ll explain my sperm leaking out of her pussy. I don’t hear the rest of their conversation after the door closes with a loud bang. I consider going back in case Emmett gets violent and hurts Penelope physically, but decide against it and instead ask the doorman of the building to check up on Penelope in half an hour.

  Penelope is out of my life for good. There’s no way in hell I’ll take her back after knowing the kind of man she allows into her life. I have neither the will nor the appetite to go back to Pleasure Extraordinaire to bang women just to have a release, either. I still have a list of lovers I can find comfort from, but they won’t be any better than Penelope in terms of quality. Which leaves me no option but to seriously consider giving Julie’s plan a chance.

  Risk has always been a big part of my life, my existence, and my success. The only risk I’ll be running with Julie’s plan is wasting time. The investment of a little time is worth the risk if there’s a chance I’ll find a woman who’ll chase away my sorrow and make me commit to her.

  CH 6 - The Distraction

  ~

  “When I said ‘find me a church girl,’ I didn’t necessarily mean she should sing in the church choir.” Standing in Julie’s office, I scan the paper she has just stuffed into my hand.

  Felicia Burton is twenty-eight, a devout Catholic, a nurse at the pediatrics unit at LA Community Hospital, born and raised in San Diego, and has had only one boyfriend with whom she broke up after he joined the military.

  Julie shrugs and shifts her eyes back to the screen of her computer. “So what? She believes in God and prays for the good of the world every Sunday!”

  “What am I going to talk to her about? How many deadly sins I commit on a daily basis?”

  Her eyes locked on her computer screen, she grins, making me wonder if the amusing look on her face is the result of my joke or something she’s reading on the screen. “Just give her a chance. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll adjust the parameters, okay?”

  “Whatever.” I head for the door, impatient to get out of the office to have lunch.

  “Brad asked for an urgent meeting. I told him you’d stop by the set during your lunch break.” She brings her eyes up to my face and winces as if she’s been caught making a mistake. “It’s about the writers’ team.”

  “Didn’t you already fill the post?”

  “I picked someone, but Brad thinks he’s not suitable.”

  My eyebrow raises in curiosity, and I step back and turn to her fully, feeling my hunger abandon me. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I guess that’s what he wants to discuss with you.”

  “Okay. I’ll go see him.”

  “Would you mind if I tag along?” she requests sweetly. “I’m curious about what he has to say.”

  “You could have asked him directly.”

  “I did, but he wants to speak only with you.”

  “Okay.” I shrug. “You can come.”

  She nods and quickly gathers her tablet and purse. “I heard from Scarlett that he invited Henrietta Cruz over to his office twice this past week. I think he’s considering her for the post.”

  “Henrietta Cruz, from Nielson Network Channel?” I laugh at Julie’s suggestion. Brad is smart enough not to invite a spy into our team.

  “Sounds silly, I know, but he might be onto something. He’s been postponing my attempts to meet with him to talk about the candidate I picked for the post.” She hurries to catch up with my steps as we walk down the hall to the elevators. “I’m not completely against having Henrietta on our team. She’s talented, but in generic sitcoms, not necessarily in drama.”

  “Not to mention the fact that she’ll be transferring from Nielson’s,” I add and get into the elevator, pushing the button for the garage after Julie steps in beside me.

  “Yeah, but what can she do? It’s not like Nielson’s will try to get insider info on the script and copy Frat House. It’s a recipe for failure.”

  “Still. Anything to do with Nielson’s is a red flag for me. For all we know, she can intentionally sabotage the success of the show.”

  We hurry toward my car, and I open the door for Julie. She gets inside quickly and hands me her tablet once I slide in next to her in the backseat. As Daney drives out of the building, I read the resume of the candidate Julie picked for the screenwriter post.

  “I know he doesn’t look like a strong candidate just from his resume,” Julie says, interrupting my reading. “But he has brilliant ideas about the directions the show can take. He pointed out the weaknesses the show had during the last two episodes, and I think they were all right on. I firmly believe we should add him to the team, if not for anything but to bring in fresh ideas.”

  Her enthusiasm while defending the candidate speaks volumes about him, but also makes me curious why Brad is less than impressed. Julie asks me to scroll down the resume to find the ideas the candidate suggested for the upcoming episodes. I go through the bullet points one by one, commenting on the ones I like, throughout the ride.

  Coincidently, Scarlet pulls up in the gated garage just at the same time Daney stops the car engine. She hurries out of the car and waits before the passenger door for us to get out.

  The red summer dress she’s wearing accentuates her youthfulness and liveliness, and, of course, her long legs. With her high-heels, she stands close to my height, a minor detail that has me fantasizing about pounding into her ass while standing up. Very briefly, though, before I remind myself of her irreplaceable role in Frat House. I can’t afford to lose her, that’s why I should erase any naughty thoughts about her this instant.

  “Julie, great to see you again,” Scarlet chirps and gives Julie a side hug. I frown and motion with my head to inquire without words about their unusual display of friendship, mostly because Julie has never been touchy-feely with anyone, much less with her colleagues.

  “Hey, there, girl. How have you been?” Julie asks, ignoring my questioning glances and walks with Scarlet toward the entrance.

  “Busy as always. My mom, grandma, and seven brothers are coming over tomorrow for my birthday, and I came in to go over the scri
pt with Troy.”

  Amused, I listen to their conversation about Scarlet’s birthday plans as I follow them into the building and then to the elevator. Kindly enough, she invites me and Julie to the small party she’s planning to organize at her home. Julie accepts her invitation for both of us and adds the date on my calendar before the elevator doors open.

  Melinda at reception informs Scarlet of Troy’s meeting with his stylist. Disappointed, Scarlet asks if she can join us while waiting for Troy. Although the meeting with Brad is mainly administrative, I see no reason why she shouldn’t be part of the decision-making process. I nod with a wink and open the door to Brad’s office.

  Brad tries his best to hide his discomfort over me showing up with Julie and Scarlet beneath a forced smile and welcomes us into his office. Without wasting time with small talk, he directly starts raving about Henrietta and what an incredible addition she’ll be for the writers’ team.

  I listen to him intently, even though I’m not thrilled about having someone from Emmett’s company in mine. But it’s not the first time someone has changed boats in this business. Sometimes enemies can make the best friends, and Henrietta could possibly change the direction of Frat House’s future for the better. She certainly has the necessary experience.

  “I’m not sure if she’ll be a good fit for the team,” I say, not to dismiss Julie’s candidate right away.

  “Henrietta is an award-winner writer, not some wannabe writer from rural Pennsylvania,” Brad insists. “If anything, we’ll be lucky to get her.”

  “Carry isn’t a wannabe writer,” Julie defends her favorite candidate. “He might not have awards lined up like Henrietta, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s creative and obsessed with Frat House. He knows all the episodes down to each line. Can you say that about Henrietta? I doubt if she knows the full title of the show.”

  “It doesn’t matter how much she knows about it. She can learn,” Brad says calmly, although the redness on his face speaks of nothing but the simmering anger brewing inside him.