Body Heat

Blurb

Damn you, Zoe Maxwell… You screwed my body then screwed with my head, leaving me to wonder what the hell happened… Why did you run away when we had such a good thing going… Fine, I was a control freak and liked it a little rough in bed, but I never heard you complain when I was slamming you into the headboard and making you scream my name…

It’s like she's tattooed on my soul. It’s been over ten years and I still can’t go ten minutes without her face flashing through my mind. Zoe freakin’ Maxwell, the girl who broke my heart and literally ruined me for other women. Now, I can’t even get hard without a bit of the rough stuff and my box of toys.

She said I was too controlling, in and out of bed. The truth was, I didn’t mean to be controlling, I was just afraid she’d leave me if I ever let her down. Maybe If I had been less dominant, maybe if I’d let her take control once in a while she would have never left me behind.

Now, after all these years, there she is, standing in front of me, older, hotter, sexier. I can smell her scent like a wolf smells its prey. I’m a different man now; rich, famous, confident, always in control, at least until she looks at me and I find myself melting like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

PROLOG: Zoe Maxwell

“What are you doing in here?” I whispered loudly as Mark closed the door of the women’s bathroom and locked it behind him. He never spoke a word. Just smiled, roughly grabbed my ass and pulled me into him and pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t resist. I had given him permission to do such things the moment I stepped into the role of mistress and first wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

Without a word, he hiked my sapphire blue cocktail dress up to my waist and lift me onto the edge of the counter as he proceeded to have his way with me. Sex with Mark was usually all about Mark. And quite honestly, as much as I couldn’t wait for it to be over, a part of me also enjoyed the way he used me. It reminded me of a past boyfriend, one I let get away.

I knew what Mark liked. My role was to give him everything his wife didn’t, like hot sex in a public restroom while two hundred people milled around outside the door. I bit my bottom lip as his right hand forced my shoulder strap down to my elbow. He squeezed my left breast as his thumb fiercely massaged my nipple. I held my breath as he pinched my plump nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I loved the pain and pleasure, especially when the line between the two was so thinly drawn. We’d had sex several times over the past week. I was sore, but was eager to take the sex when Mark was free.

I sucked on his tongue as he ran his hand down my stomach to the wet spot between my legs. I let out a quiet gasp as he slid his hand inside my silk panties and forcefully slid two fingers inside me. I pulled my arms from the dress, allowing it to slide down and over my tits to bunch around my waist. I laced my fingers around the back of his neck just the way he liked. Mark loved to watch my tits bounce as he fucked me. I was blessed with firm, round full breasts that Mark loved to slide his manhood through. He’d left a pearl necklace on my chest many times over the last few months. It was one of his favorite things to do. Like I said, I did the things his wife would never do. That was how our relationship worked, at least for Mark.

“I couldn’t wait to have you,” he said over gusts of breath, his finger still thrusting in and out of me up to the knuckle. “When I saw you standing there… talking to Graham… so fucking sexy…”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said. “I’m… glad... you did…” I bit my lip as he forced three fingers inside me and curled them to search for my G-spot. Little sparks of delight shot through my body when his fingertips found their target.

He playfully bit my lower lip and looked deep into my eyes. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

“Mark, we’re… in a… public restroom… this is… insane…” I gasped as he pinched and held both my nipples firmly.

He growled in my ear. “Spread your legs… Now…”

There was an edge to his voice that made me blink. Something dangerous, something I’d never heard before. I put my hands on the edge of the counter behind me and spread my legs as Mark pushed my shoulders back toward the mirror.

“Good girl.” He smiled as he let go of my nipples, releasing them finally from the vice of his fingertips. I was so caught up in the moment I didn’t even notice when Mark had unzipped his pants to expose himself. Before I had time to take another breath, he pushed aside the crotch of my soaked panties and thrust inside me until he go inside no further. I could feel my opening spreading to accommodate his girth. His sizable cock was Mark’s best attribute. It was a pity that endurance didn’t come with size.

With an intensity that I had not seen from him before, Mark dug his fingers into my ass and started thrusting in and out with such force I thought for sure the people on the other side of the door would hear our grunts and groans. A few more forceful thrusts and he came to a dead stop as he shot his load inside me. I could feel the pulsating of his cock with each wave. And just as quickly as it had started, it was over. That was usually where things ended, but tonight Mark didn’t stop pleasuring me just because he had shot his load. To my astonishment and delight, he leaned down and kissed me hard on the lips; a good, long, deep, passionate kiss between lovers. His cock slid out of me, but was quickly replaced by his fingers.

“Mark, what are you…”

“I want you to cum, baby,” he said, his lips on my neck, his fingers working furiously between my legs. “Do you want me to make you cum, baby? Do you? Tell me, Zoe. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to cum…” I whispered, my lips at his ear, his teeth on my neck. “Please… yes… make me… cum…”

Mark slowly fucked me with his fingers as he kissed my lips, probing with his tongue. He was bringing me closer to orgasm with every stroke. I had never seen or felt him be so attentive. My knees clasped around his arm when the orgasm hit. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I prayed that he wouldn’t stop.

“Oh… god… yessss… I’m… oh… Mark… oh… oh…” I clenched my arms around his head and pulled him to me as his fingers took me all the way home. He kept going, plunging, until I let go of his head and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop.

“Let me breathe,” I said, playfully pushing him away, smiling coyly at him. He took a step back and matched my smile. His gooey right hand dangled at his side, dripping with our juices. He had just given me the best orgasm he ever had. Strange that it happened in a public restroom in the middle of a huge dinner party at a ritzy New York hotel.

“That… was… amazing,” I said, panting, smiling at him. I turned toward the mirror and adjusted my dress down over my hips and back up over my breasts. I grabbed a towel from the stack on the counter and turned to the sink to wash up, still dazed about what just happened.

“I’m glad it was amazing,” Mark said as he tucked his cock back into his suit pants and stepped over to the other sink to wash his hands. He dried his hands on a towel, dropped it in the dirty towel bin, then reached for his jacket that was hanging on the hook behind the door. He slid his arms into the jacket and stared at me in the mirror. “Since it will probably be the last time we fuck.”

I frowned at him in the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He frowned back at me. His frown was much harder than mine. It was cold, resentful, angry. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that you’re leaving town for a few months to research a new book?”

Shit. How did he find out? I leaned into the mirror and tried to be coy. “I didn’t know I needed to inform you of my plans.”

“It would have been nice if you had, Zoe. I respect you and I thought you held the same respect for me. Guess not, huh?”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Respect? Really? Mark and I obviously had different opinions on the meaning of the word. “I didn’t tell you because I’m still not sure if I’m going to go. Or how long I’ll be gone.”

“Don’t lie to me, Zoe,” Mark said, huffing. “We both know you’re leaving for Costa Rica next week to research your next book, probably for a few months if the press release from your publisher is correct.”

I forced myself to remain calm as I twisted the lipstick tube and avoided his stare in the mirror. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me,” Mark said as he moved in close behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, burning my skin like a hot desert wind. “It was front page of the literary section in today’s paper. Bestselling author Zoe Maxwell to spend the summer in Costa Rica researching her next bombshell novel. Leaving the man who loves her behind.”

I glared at his reflection in the mirror. “The man who loves her? Really? Is that what we have, Mark? Love?”

“You could have told me it was over,” he muttered, his lips pouting like a hurt little boy. “I should not have found out in the fucking paper.”

“They weren't supposed to release anything because it’s not a done deal,” I said through clenched teeth. I willed myself not to cry. Instead, I let anger take the lead. “Someone at the publisher jumped the gun. I’m really sorry you found out this way.”

“Does it matter now, though?” he asked, growling at me, his eyes seething with anger. “You’ve made your call. It’s over. We’re over. Fuck me very much!”

“What did you expect, Mark?” I asked, turning to face him. “You’re a married man. You’re never going to leave your wife. Sooner or later we both knew that this would have to end.”

“I just wish you would have told me the truth,” he said with a sigh that made him sound old and tired. “You should have said something when this first came up. I’m sure you’ve known about this for a while. Just because I’m married and this…”

“This what, Mark?” I asked, leaning against the counter with my arms folded over my chest. “This what?”

His hands sliced through the air. “This... What we have…”

“You mean us sneaking around and fucking like deviants in public bathrooms and in the back of your car or at my apartment in the middle of the day because you don’t have the balls to leave your wife? Is that the this you’re referring to, Mark?”

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “You always knew that I’d never leave her.”

“And you always knew that this would end, Mark.”

He glared into my eyes for a moment, and then slowly shook his head as he went to the door. “Good luck, Zoe,” he said as he opened the door. “This has been fun.”

CHAPTER ONE: Zoe

I didn’t chase after him. He wasn’t even mine to chase after. He was never mine. But his leaving felt like I was sucker punched in the stomach. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as I stood there feeling devastated and confused. I was angry that the paper published the article. They were supposed to wait for another week. Goddammit!

I felt the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Why is it every time something good happens in my life, people end up getting hurt? That’s not how it’s supposed to go, but it seems like it never fails. I always end up hurting those that are the closest to me. Even though Mark was not mine to love, I cared deeply for him and never set out to hurt him. I didn’t even know how or why I cared for him, but I did. The sex had never been that good. Heck, tonight was the best sex we’ve ever had.

I dried my eyes and took one more glance in the mirror before opening the door and slipping out of the bathroom as inconspicuously as I could. I kept my head down as I walked through the crowd and headed right toward the exit. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. This was not how the night was supposed to go.

“Zoe Maxwell! In the flesh! How have you been?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, took a deep breath and turned around. It was Andrew Brock, a book reviewer for The Times who loved to take selfies with famous authors, yours truly included. I had to be nice to Andrew, even though he got on my last nerve.

“Andrew,” I said, grinning as I held out my hand. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fabulous,” he said with a smug smile. “I hear you’re about to take a little island vacation to work on your next book.”

“Well, I guess you could say that,” I said, grinning.

“I see your name everywhere now. Zoe Maxwell… Zoe Maxwell … Zoe Maxwell. Book signing here, personal appearance there, author meet and greets… Add to that yet another bestseller. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Andrew,” I said, feigning modesty. “And thank you for your glowing reviews.”

“I’ve enjoyed all your books but I must say, the one with Jenny and Jake, now that story is my favorite. I gave it 5-stars, I believe, which I am sure helped sales quite a bit. Tell me, how do you come up with such steamy sex scenes?”

“Well, I just…”

“There you are!” A woman literally yelled at me from across the room. Shit. I recognized the shrill voice of Carla Grogan, a PR agent who had been pressing me for my business for years. I took a deep breath and held the plastic smile as she approached.

“Carla,” I said as she gave me an air kiss on each cheek. “So nice to see you. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’m fine, but let’s talk about you. I hear you’re leaving for Costa Rica to write a new hot romance series for Roland House?” she said, hand squeezing my arm. “Do they pay you to go there?”

“Well, no, I pay for it,” I said, frowning at the question. “The next book series takes place in Costa Rica and since I’ve never been there, I’d like to get a feel for the country, the lifestyle. So that’s where I’m headed.”

“Lucky you! And your latest book, Pleasing Him. Oh my god, I loved it! It’s like this sexy love affair slash erotic S&M thing with all the… “

“Zoe?”

I turned around as a great sigh of relief escaped my lips when I saw Graham Elliott, an executive at Roland House, my publisher, approach with his arms out. Graham was tall, thin, and as usual, impeccably dressed. His hair had gone silver when he was in his thirties, twenty-something years ago, but his face was tanned, youthful, and free of lines. Graham would have been the perfect man for me—older, reliable, handsome, successful—if he hadn’t been gay.

“Graham, darling, how have you been?” I gave him a hug and whispered in his ear. “Save me, please.”

“Nice to see you, Zoe,” he said with a knowing wink. He nodded at Carla and Andrew. “Carla, Andrew.”

They wrinkled their noses at him and said his name as if it left a bad taste in their mouths. In unison, they said, “Graham.”

“Andrew and Carla, it was nice seeing both of you,” I said, backing away. “But I have to call it a night.” I glanced at my watch as if it were a countdown to midnight clock. “Graham, we should meet for drinks or dinner before I leave.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’d love that.”

“Well, you all have a good night and I’ll see you all later.”

I waved from over my shoulder as I bolted toward the exit, keeping my head down to avoid eye contact with anyone else.

I burst out the door, sucking in the crisp night air as I asked the doorman to please hail a cab for me. I stood off to the side, waiting, trying to go unnoticed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.

I just wanted to get away from all these horrible people and the memory of Mark in the bathroom. And with any luck, the memory of Mark himself.

* * *

I don’t even recall the ride home. It was a blur. A complete blur. I felt awkward and confused. I wanted to talk to Mark but at the same time, I never wanted to see him again. He had no right to be in that bathroom, whether I was his mistress or not. There were boundaries in any relationship, though Mark would never let such things stop him from getting his way. Still, the sex had been amazing. I had actually orgasmed, something I rarely did with Mark.

Typically, with Mark, it was, “wham bam thank you, ma’am” and then he was gone before I could catch my breath. I was always left to finish myself off. I could still feel the orgasm from tonight shaking through my knees. I’d only been manhandled like that by one other man in my life: Chad Walters, my college boyfriend who I hadn’t seen in years.

Chad was a control freak, but in a good way. It was always his way or the highway. The sexual positions were always of his choosing and rarely, if ever, did he give me any form of control. He liked it rough and so did I. He liked to play and explore and he let me know over and over how he was in control. Sometimes his nature got on my nerves, but ultimately the sex was so fucking great I didn’t care who was in control. I would have left him sooner if I hadn’t been so addicted to his cock.

After a while, though, I began to feel used by Chad and that was how I was feeling now with Mark. I felt I had no choice but to leave. A few months in Costa Rica would do me a world of good.

After college, I took a job a few states away on purpose and cried the entire drive there. I felt horrible for breaking things off with Chad. I felt horrible for leaving him the way I did. I loved him. I really did. And he loved me and there I was running away.

Chad called and begged me to return several times, which was so unlike him. It almost made me think the whole control thing was just an act and that he really cared for me. Gradually, however, time and distance took their toll and we slipped away from each other. The last time he called, I didn’t even answer the phone and he didn’t bother to leave a message.

Even though he was gone, Chad had never strayed far from my mind. It still hurt to hear his name and every relationship I’d had since, didn’t compare to what we shared. We shared some intimate moments that were better kept secret. But sometimes secrets knife you until they bleed free. And that’s what happened to me.

All the secrets Chad and I shared, things that were meant to remain just between us, ended up in my diary. Then, the heart-spilling, jaw-dropping, erotic moments ended up in a book, then on the shelf of every bookstore in the world. I changed the names of the characters, of course, but now my entire relationship with Chad had been read by tens of thousands of lusty readers. Yes, another bestseller. Fiction to everyone, sweet memories to me.

Somehow getting it all out was like therapy. It took me years to write that story and tell it just as it happened. Every detail, every date, every sexual moment, that I could recall. Along with some secrets I never even told him.

Writing that first book helped me close a chapter in my life that needed to be closed. Somehow, even though it was closed, it never seemed to go away. It didn’t seem to ease the feelings. It seemed to create more urges than I had to learn how to live with— urges I knew could never be fulfilled because he was no longer in my life. I had to learn how to live with the void of knowing there was nothing that could ever completely erase or ease the feeling of loss I felt when it came to losing Chad.

Mark surely didn’t fill that void. If he wasn’t married, who knows what would have become of us. But he was married and I was just the mistress who sat by the phone waiting for him to call.

We couldn’t make plans because his family always came first, which I completely understood and was okay with, at least at first. I knew he’d never leave his wife. I’d never asked him to leave her. Not once. I figured if he was going to leave her, he was going to do it on his own, not because of me.

I wasn’t there to make such decisions for him. Just like he wasn’t going to be making decisions for me. Meaning, I really had no obligation to tell Mark anything that was going on in my life. It wasn’t like we were that close. It was mostly about the sex. Or the thrill of the sex. The feeling of doing something dirty we really shouldn’t be doing in places where we shouldn’t be doing in.

And it was also about having someone to talk to who understood my crazy life. Mark spent his days as an attorney at a big firm uptown, but he was a successful author in the moonlight—spies and assassins and all that— and he could commiserate with the daily ups and downs of the author life. We talked every day. The conversation was usually more satisfying than the sex. It was just nice to have someone to connect with.

My writing kept me busy and I never had much of a social life. I didn’t count the tours and book signings as social events. They were more like forced labor. I’d fly into town in time to show up at some bookstore that Amazon had yet to kill, welcome the crowd, read a steamy passage from my book, shake hands, pass out hugs to people I didn’t want to touch, sign books, smile for the camera…

It was torture for someone like me, who could barely stand to be in crowds, much less crowds where everyone was facing me, wanting something from me, reaching out like a zombie horde with my book in their decaying hands.

Sadly, that was the only time I ventured out to really interact with people. Aside from those trips, I was pretty much a hermit, living in my little Manhattan cave with my fingers tapping on the keys to my laptop, creating sex scenes for thousands of horny, lonely women—like me— to enjoy.

I typically wrote all night until sun-up, then slept the mornings away and forced myself to get up around one or two in the afternoon.

The life of a writer did not mesh well with the daily 9-5 grind. In fact, we were a completely different kind of animal, mostly nocturnal, mostly introverted, mostly happy to just be alone with our thoughts and the blank page.

That was why my social groups were not of the norm. People assumed famous writers lived these fabulous lives of glitzy social events, celebrity dinners, and traveling to Cannes every summer to see your latest book on film. To the contrary, being an author, at least in my case, made for a very lonely existence, which sometimes made me wonder why I loved it so.

* * *

I slid into bed and lay there for a while listening to the faint city noise far below my penthouse window, thinking about the events of the evening and where I’d left things with Mark.

Mark and I had always been covert with our affair, or at least tried to be, which made the fact that he came into the ladies’ room in the middle of a big publishing event even more out of character for him. I wasn’t sure what the heck he was thinking, unless he just couldn’t wait to fuck me and break the news that he knew about the Costa Rica trip.

We had used Graham as our go-between because we wrote for the same publisher. Graham was never judgmental, though I knew he didn’t care much for Mark and worried incessantly about me. He thought Mark was arrogant and smug, with far less talent than other writers who never made it big. Graham did it for me, not for Mark. I knew he was thrilled that I was leaving town to research the new book series in Costa Rica. In fact, Graham was the one who made that happen, in part, I believe, to get me away from Mark.

Mark treated our affair like the plot of one of his spy novels. We communicated through Graham or by “burner phones” that he purchased at Wal-Mart. I didn’t even have the number to his regular cellphone. And I never called him without texting first to make sure the coast was clear to call. It was all very cloak and dagger, which was fun at first. Then it got old because he would not respond to my texts until the middle of the day and then want to come over for a quickie.

Meeting up usually meant at my apartment or someplace out of the public eye like a “no tell motel” or Graham’s apartment on those rare occasions that he would agree to let us in. Once we met by chance, as I was running through Central Park, and snuck off for a quickie in the bushes. Like I said, Mark was all about the quick fuck. He was like a breeder rabbit. He’d hop on my back, hump till he came, then quickly move along. I’d miss good old Mark, but probably not as much as he’d miss me.

CHAPTER TWO: Chad Walters

I squeezed Bree’s tits as she rode me like a bucking bronco at a Texas rodeo. Man, there was nothing more stimulating than a perfect set of double D’s bouncing in your face. I had always been a breast man, which was why most of the women I had fucked in my life had a nice rack to catch my eye. Bree was no exception. The first time I saw her was from the tits up. I know, I’m a pig. Sue me.

I held on tight to Bree’s waist and let her ride my cock as I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. As usually happened when I had my hands full of tits and a tight pussy around my cock, Zoe’s face flashed through my mind.

Zoe Maxwell, my college sweetheart… actually, that sounded too juvenile to describe what we had. We were lovers, not sweethearts, though when she left town she took a big chunk of my heart with her. Of course, I would never have told her that. I was too macho, too full of myself, too much of a control freak. And that’s what drove her away.

Sometimes, I wondered what she was up to now. Probably married with kids, some poor schlep of a husband, little house with a nice lawn and picket fence in the ‘burbs… Whatever.

But talk about tits. Zoe had these perfect, natural, beautiful size C’s that defied gravity, with large nipples that looked like raspberry gumdrops. All the fake tits in the world couldn’t hold a candle to Zoe’s beautiful bouncing boobs.

They were absolute perfection.

Everything about her was perfect.

Her skin was sun-kissed bronze and smooth.

Her body was toned and tight as a drum.

Long legs, high and tight ass, long blonde hair, the most kissable lips, little turned up nose, and those eyes, those sapphire eyes… they were hypnotic… mesmerizing… I could stare into them for hours.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw her. I was waiting in the checkout line at the 7/11 with a case of beer and five bags of chips for a frat party. I turned around to find her standing behind me, her big tits in a tight t-shirt, her long tanned legs sticking out of a pair of cut-off jeans. She was barefoot, no makeup, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. And she was buying tampons, of all things. I pretended I didn’t see the light blue box, but I envied those tampons for where they were destined to go.

I struck up a conversation about the weather or some random shit just to talk to her. I smiled. She smiled. Our eyes met. We shook hands. Sparks fucking flew. And that was it. I pretty much knew I’d be fucking her by the next day. And I was. Because I had no choice. If I didn’t fuck her, I’d just die.

I turned on the charm and went full-court press on her ass. At first, it was just a game to me, as all women were. I would woo her with my ways, wear down her resistance, fuck the shit out of her and move on, like I always did.

Then, the more I got to know her, the more I wanted to be with her, and only her. She drove me fucking wild, man. A typical woman would get jealous as fuck if their man was flirting or getting hit on by other women. Not Zoe. She was not the jealous type. In fact, many times she’d joke about going home with other dudes, or bringing another man into the bedroom with us. I was like WHAT??? No fucking way! Homey don’t play that shit!

She was doing it just to fuck with me, but sometimes I thought she was serious. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. I just didn’t want to find out. I’d go fucking crazy just to think of another man fucking my Zoe.

So, I calmed down with the macho-male bullshit and made sure she knew I just wanted her. And things went great for a while, then slowly started to go to shit. She said I was too controlling (which I was), too demanding (guilty), too much of an asshole (uh yeah), and that I didn’t appreciate her. That one hurt because it wasn’t true. Granted, I had a hard time showing my feelings (I’m a guy, duh), but I appreciated the fuck out of her. Hell, I probably even loved her.

Then one day she just breezes in and tells me she’s moving to fucking New York after graduation to work in some publishing house as a copy editor. I was like, why the fuck do you want to do that?

She just shook her head and walked out the door. That was seven years ago. We talked a few times over the phone after she moved away, but finally I just let it go. Was I pissed? You bet your ass I was pissed. She just up and left, ripped my fucking heart out like it was a fucking Band-Aid on a scraped knee. The sad part about our time together and her leaving was the residual effect it had on my love life. Call it carrying a torch or whatever, but I haven’t been able to feel complete with another woman since Zoe walked out of my life. I keep finding myself comparing them to her. And no woman has ever come close to curling my toes—or breaking my heart—like Zoe Maxwell.

* * *

“Oh, Chad …” Bree’s moans jarred me back to reality. “I’m cumming…god… your cock... cum with me… cum…”

“Cum for me, baby,” I said, digging my fingers into her hips and arching my back to fuck her deeper and harder, as if I could push the memory of Zoe out of my body by shooting a hot load inside Bree. But it seemed the harder I fucked Bree, the more I thought about Zoe. It was a never-ending battle between my heart and my mind and my cock. It was a painful battle.

It was a pain that I wanted to heal, but wanted to keep as a reminder of a time in my life when everything felt simply perfect.

It was a time I never wanted to forget, couldn’t if I tried.

Maybe I was afraid that someday I’d wake up and no longer think of Zoe. I didn’t want that day to ever come. Even though she had moved on and was living her life without so much as a thought of me, I was not ready to let go of what we had, even after all these years.

The pain was all I had left of Zoe.

I would never let it go.

Never.

I’d never tell a soul because it was a very unmacho thing to say, but I missed Zoe every fucking day and every fucking night, even after all these years. Zoe Maxwell was mine for just a short time and I let her slip away. Fuck, who am I kidding… I pushed her way. She left because I was a controlling asshole with too much pride to swallow. If I had it to do over again, I would have dropped to my knees and begged her to say.

Right then, at that moment, with Bree moaning and groaning on top of me, I would have given anything to go back to that time with Zoe.

Even if it was just for an hour, just to feel the old feelings again. Maybe I just needed to say goodbye to her once and for all; have one last conversation that would help me close the Zoe chapter of my life.

Maybe then my heart wouldn’t feel so numb.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed to forget Zoe Maxwell once and for all.

I curled my toes and filled Bree with the hot load that erupted from my cock and balls with the force of a firehose. I closed my eyes tight and tried not to scream Zoe’s name.

* * *

I rolled Bree off my cock and rolled myself off the bed, going into the bathroom without saying a word. I took a good long piss, then washed off my cock with a warm rag at the sink, then went back to the bedroom door and tossed the towel at Bree.

“What the fuck Chad!” Bree said with a disgusted look on her face. She plucked the rag out of the air and shoved it to her cooch to stop the flow of my cum and her juices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“I have something I forgot to do,” I said, jabbing a thumb over my shoulder toward the shower behind me. “Gotta grab a quick shower and run. Let yourself out. I’ll call you later.”

“Seriously?” Her mouth hung open and her eyes went wide. Her big tits bounced on her chest. “You just remembered right now in the middle of having sex with me that you had something you forgot to do?”

“I know, my brain turns to mush when you’re around, baby. Okay. Later.” I closed and locked the bathroom door, ignoring her protests that she needed to pee and shower, too.

After a minute, I heard her yell, “FUCK YOU!” and then the bedroom door slammed and then, thankfully, silence.

I hated to be rude, seriously, but I knew that if I didn’t give Bree the bum’s rush she would have hung around all day long. Bree was a great fuck, but she’d never win a contest at being a conversationalist. She was too young for me. I could never see myself getting serious with her even though she was drop dead gorgeous.

Tall, brunette, the aforementioned big tits, and an ass that would make the Kardashians jealous. But that’s where it ended. I’d known Bree for a few months now, and had yet to hold a serious conversation with her about anything. Just having a casual conversation was like trying to explain quantum physics to a first grader.

I was reaching for the shower faucet when I heard my cellphone ringing in the bedroom. I cracked open the door just to make sure Bree was gone, then found my phone on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed to answer it.

“Go for Chad,” I said.

“Hey, Chad. It’s Martin. How’s it hanging, buddy?”

“A little low and to the right at the moment,” I said, glancing down at my flaccid cock with a smile. “How’s it hanging for you?”

Martin Friese was my business manager and publicist. I had hired him five years ago when my fitness company, Body By Chad, first started to take off. I had worked forever to build my brand as a personal trainer and fitness coach and now, after years of busting my hump twenty-hours a day, seven days a week, the business was taking off with celebrity clients swarming around like hungry bees in a field of wild flowers.

Martin was responsible for much of that success. Body by Chad wouldn’t be where it was today if it wasn’t for his expert public relations skills and celebrity connections—connections that landed me in front of the most prestigious clients thanks to the likes of TMZ, People Magazine, and Radar Online. I was constantly amazed what one photo standing behind Katy Perry at Starbuck’s will do for your brand, even though Katy didn’t know me from Adam back then. I even landed a contract to train the blonde bombshells at the Playboy Mansion. And things didn’t stop there.

As the opportunities and income grew, I knew my brand had to grow with it. Martin told me time and time again, “It’s all smoke and mirrors… You are only as successful as the public deems you to be… Live large… Always be seen… Do whatever it takes to stay in the public’s eye… There is no such thing as bad PR… Fake it till you make it, brother… Fucking fake it till you make it.”

As soon as I could swing it financially (thanks to good credit and Martin’s co-signature), I bought a Brentwood Estate just outside of Hollywood. $6.5 million bucks, baby… A luxury mansion in a gated community, with 10 bedrooms and more bathrooms than one person could ever use. Six-car garage, tennis court, Olympic size pool, theater room, gourmet kitchen, master bedroom larger than my first apartment, and a toilet that shoots water up your ass.

The basement was a perfect set-up for my own fitness studio, where I privately trained celebrity clients and recorded my DVDs and the workout videos for my private website. I put four-hundred-grand into the place after I bought it, pimping it out to my standards.

Life was good. I had my main business in my basement (I owned three gyms in the city), my own line of fitness apparel and exercise DVD’s, along with a dozen books that had been ghostwritten for me (like I have the fucking time to write). The best part about being me were the private sessions I give to certain female celebrities who shall remain nameless. Let’s just say that more often than not, those sessions come with a happy ending, if you know what I mean.

“The reason I’m calling,” Martin continued, “I need you to fly out to New York in a couple of days. Good Morning Manhattan would like to do a segment on you. It would be great exposure and you could pimp the new DVD’s that are dropping later this month.”

I whined into the phone like a spoiled bitch. “Two days? Fuck, Martin you know I can’t just up and leave on a moment’s notice like that…”

“Chad, dude, this is the show we’ve been trying to get you on for the last six months. New York City’s number one morning show. And now they want you on the show, but it’s gotta be this week. You cannot pass this up. Whatever you have going on, have your assistant reschedule and get your ass on a plane. Capiche?”

I sighed until my lungs were out of air. I fell back on the bed and gave my balls a little scratch. “Fine. Book it and send me the flight and hotel info.”

“Awesome!” Martin said. I could feel him smiling over the phone. More money in my pocket meant more money in his. “Don’t forget, rock star, you are the number one guru in the fitness industry right now and we’re going to keep it that way, my man. You got this!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, wondering if he really believed half of the shit that came out of his mouth. “I’ll see you in New York on Monday.”

I tossed the phone on the bed and went off to take a shower. For some reason, I felt especially dirty at that moment, and it wasn’t the stink of my jizz and Bree’s cunt coming off my cock and balls.

It was just the smell of my life, a smell I knew I could never wash away, at least not on my own.

CHAPTER THREE: Zoe

“Hello, Mr. Elliot,” I said playfully. Whenever I saw Graham’s face popup on my cellphone I always forced myself to sound happier than I usually was. Graham worried about me like an older brother, so I mustered a smile and put a happy tone to my voice before I slid the screen to answer the call.

“Miss Maxwell,” Graham said, his voice soothing in my ear. “How are you today? Did you make it home safely last night?”

“If I hadn’t you would have been my first call,” I said with a grin. I pushed myself back from the laptop and turned to put my bare feet up on the little writing desk I kept in front of my bedroom window. “What’s up?”

“I was calling to invite your over for dinner tonight?” he said.

“Oh, Graham, I’ve had enough of dinner parties for a while.”

“Not a dinner party, my dear. Nothing fancy, very low key, just you and me. I have something I’d like to run by you.”

“Low key sounds great,” I said, stretching my arms toward the ceiling. I had been writing for several hours and needed a break. “Anything out of the public eye is good for me these days.”

“I kind of figured you’d done your time in the public eye for a while,” he said, chuckling. “Need me to send a car for you?”

“I can get a cab,” I said. “I’m not that much of a celebrity.”

“The hell you’re not,” he snorted. “If your next book sells like we think it will your lovely face will be plastered on posters and billboards across the country. You might as well face it, my dear, you are a bona fide celebrity whether you like it or not.”

“Whatever!” I said, cutting him off. I wasn’t comfortable with my celebrity and Graham knew it, as meager as that celebrity might be. “Need me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Graham said. “See you around eight.”

I stared at the phone for a moment after he hung up, wondering what Graham wanted to talk to me about. I prayed it wasn’t about Mark. That was a topic I had no desire to discuss with Graham or anyone else.

* * *

“Glad you could make it,” Graham said, hugging me as I walked through the door of his uptown apartment. Graham did very well as an executive for Roland House. His place was larger than mine and much nicer. Graham had hit the daily double: he came from old money and banked one hell of a paycheck from Roland. His good fortune was well-deserved. Graham Elliot was a good guy in what could be a very shitty business. He’d saved my bacon on more than one occasion. He was the best friend this writer would ever have.

“Did you enjoy the dinner last night? Roland House certainly knows how to blow money on large parties that no one wants to attend,” he said as he handed me a glass of wine. He nodded at the glass. “That’s an ‘84 Chateau Laffite Rothschild. Don’t waste a drop.”

“I’ll certainly try not to,” I said, smiling as I took a sip. The wine was smooth going down and left a delicious plum and blackberry taste lingering on my tongue. Graham always had the best wines. He was a wine enthusiast who loved to travel and collect wines from every corner of the world. Some of them were too exotic for my taste, but the Rothschild was like drinking nectar.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there last night, I can tell you that,” I confessed as I took another sip. “And Carla… ugh! I can’t stand that woman! I tell her no and she keeps coming back like a rabid dog.”

“Most people can’t stand Carla,” Graham said with a smile. “But she is very good at her job, one of the best PR reps in the business.” He stared at me for a moment, then brought his glass to his lips. “I could tell you were ready to get the hell out of there. Too long away from our cave, little hermit?”

“Something like that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Although I’d like to think of myself more as Cinderella in the tower than a hermit living in a cave.”

“Fair enough,” he said, extending his arm. “Follow me, princess.”

I looped my arm through his and followed him into the spacious living room, which was all glass along the exterior wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city at night. I settled in on the sofa and let my eyebrows go up behind the wine glass. “So, why am I here?”

He smiled like the Cheshire Cat. Little alarms started ringing in my head. He said, “Good Morning Manhattan is looking for someone to fill a guest spot on an upcoming segment on young entrepreneurs. Mainly a fluff segment focusing on people who started with nothing and made it to the top of their game. Their goal is to get your basic insider tips for other entrepreneurs taking the same path, you know, something along those lines.”

“And how does this have anything to do with me?” I asked the question even though I already knew what Graham was thinking.

“They were thinking—and I was really hoping since the publicity would be incredible for the new book—that you might be interested in being one of their young entrepreneurs.”

I shot him a panicked look. I hated speaking in public and Graham knew it. It was my biggest fear because I literally melted down when speaking to more than a few people at a time. My hands shook, my voice quivered, my knees went weak. I could barely make it through a book reading and had to force my hand not to tremble during book signings. And now he wanted me to go on live TV and talk about what a big success I was? Holy crap...

“I don’t know, Graham,” I said quickly as I felt my mouth going dry despite the wine. “I mean, I don’t really consider myself an entrepreneur. I write books for a living…”

“Right. You write books and you travel and live a lifestyle most people only dream of living, but at the end of the day you run a very successful business. Think about it,” he said, narrowing his dark eyes at me. “You could share your tips about building a successful publishing business, marketing, blogging, even discuss some of your failures, not that you’ve had many, and… well… I kind of already told them you’d do it.”

“You what?” I stammered, nearly dropping the wine glass. “Graham! You cannot be serious!”

He frowned to let me know that he was. “Before you freak out, let me add that I also convinced them to give you time to plug the new book, Pleasing Him. The show’s producer has read an advance copy and loved it. Not only that, she told me that she read it in one sitting and it got her so steamed up she attacked her poor husband in the middle of the night.”

“Wow, my book as foreplay… who knew…”

“The point is, my dear teller of dirty tales,” he said, scolding me with his eyes. “The exposure for Pleasing Him on GMM will help propel it to the top of the bestseller lists. They have a huge audience. And I’m sure their viewers—and all the struggling writers who watch—would love to hear how you come up with the ideas for your stories, especially the story in Pleasing Him. That story is... well… pardon my French… fucking hot.”

He made me blush without meaning to. “Really?”

“Zoe, you are the epitome of a success author and entrepreneur. Your books are your products. You are the business. You are well qualified to talk about the subject. You in the one-percent of authors who actually make a great living writing their own books.”

“Maybe…”

He held out his glass, extended a finger at me, and let his head slowly bob. “I think you have a lot more to talk about than you think. I might be able to convince them to do a longer segment on you. Maybe even a fully produced piece. There are a million questions readers and other writers have for successful authors such as yourself. Hell, you’re leaving for Costa Rica, for crying out loud, to research and write a book! Who else do you know that gets to travel to exotic places and gets paid to lounge by the pool and write? People love hearing how dreams come true. They are looking for that magic piece that will bring them success. Some tiny piece of the puzzle and you of all people, Zoe Maxwell, can show them the way.”

I laughed at his enthusiasm, and misconception of my life. Lounge and write? Is that seriously what he thought I did? Sure. That’s all I do. My lounging life. I only wish.

“So, this is why you lured me over tonight? To get me to agree to go on Good Morning Manhattan? Because if there’s no food involved I’m going to be pissed.”

“There’s food, don’t worry,” he said with a smile. He let his eyes drift down to the wine glass in his hand. He swirled the wine and watched it go around the glass. “I also wanted to ask you about last night.”

I hid behind the glass, knowing what was coming. “What about it?”

“You left suddenly, like you couldn’t wait to get out of there. I know you hate those things, but you really seemed upset.”

I put on a happy face and sipped the wine like it was no big deal. “Sorry for rushing out like that, but it had been a long day and I really just wanted to get home where it was quiet. And get away from leeches like Andrew and Carla. People like that just bug me to no end.”

I hoped the lie was good enough to convince him to drop the subject. He knew Mark and I were on the rocks and so far, had shown the decency not to pry. Somehow, I felt that might be changing as he studied my face, looking for a crack in my armor.

“Are you sure that’s all it was,” he asked after a moment. He looked past me to stare out the window at the twinkling skyline to avoid looking into my eyes. “I saw Mark come out of the ladies’ room. I figured you two had been at it again.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, working up my best insulted face.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging with his eyebrows, bringing the glass to his lips. He let his eyes swing back to mine. “So, can I tell the producer at GMM that you’ll do it? It would be great for the new book, and the backlist.”

I took a deep breath. Graham was a shrewd negotiator. I could either agree to do the show or he’d continue to press me about Mark. Son of a bitch was good, I had to give him that.

“Fine. Okay. I’ll do it.” My voice was less than enthusiastic, but Graham didn’t seem to care. If it was anyone other than Graham, I would have definitely said no freakin’ way. But Graham was my best friend, my mentor, and savior. He was the one who gave this struggling writer a chance all those years ago. He introduced me to my agent, got me my first publishing contract, bragged about me to critics, and was always looking out for me, even when he didn’t agree with my actions, like getting involved with Mark. His advice and guidance and connections had been just as important to my career as the writing. There was no way I could turn him down.

Graham held up his wine glass and smiled. “They are going to be over-the-top excited to hear you’ll be on the show! I literally can’t wait to share the good news!”

“Well, don’t get too over-the-top excited about it,” I said. “I could be a total train wreck on camera.”

“I’m not worried at all,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see if they will give you a little extra time at the end of the show to do some Q&A with the audience. And I’ll make sure to send over enough books so that everyone in the audience will get a copy of your new bestseller. Maybe they’ll let you sign the books after the show.”

“More good news,” I said, shaking my head. I hated book signings, even though they were a necessary part of the process. “So, when is the taping?”

“Monday morning,” Graham said as he dabbed wine from the corners of his lips with the tips of his manicured fingers. “They’ll send a car for you at 7 A.M. and you’ll go straight into hair and makeup. The show airs at 8 A.M. and your segment will be around 8:45.”

“7 A.M… Fuck, Graham, you know I don’t get up before noon,” I said.

“It’s a morning show, my darling,” he said with an unsympathetic smirk. “Just take it easy this weekend. No big parties. No drunken orgies. No binge drinking.”

“I wish,” I said, rolling my eyes. I finished the wine and held out my glass. “The things I do for my art. And for you. More insanely expensive wine, please.”

Graham smiled as he stood up and offered me his hand. “It’s tough being you, I’m sure. Come on, let’s see if a nice filet mignon can make you feel better.”

“Who are the other entrepreneurs that will be on the show?” I asked as he led me into the dining room, where his cook had set out a wonderful dinner for the two of us.

“The producer didn’t know for sure,” he said, holding out my chair. “The whole thing seemed very last minute. I got the impression that they were hustling to get guests on because the guy from Shark Tank canceled. She mentioned someone flying in from Los Angeles, but I didn’t catch the name.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to fly clear across country for a two-minute interview,” I said, holding out my glass for a refill. Graham refilled both our glasses, then tapped his glass up to mine.

“Here’s to a stellar appearance,” he said with a broad smile. “And to your next bestseller.”

CHAPTER FOUR: Chad

“Welcome to New York, sir!” the doorman at the front entrance of the Mark Hotel said as he held open the door for me.

“Thanks,” I said as I walked through the doors and across the black and white marble floor toward the front desk. A young Asian woman standing behind the desk smiled at me. “Hello, sir, may I help you?”

“Chad Walters,” I said, stepping up to the desk and letting the carryon bag slide from my shoulder to the floor. “I should have a reservation.”

“Yes, sir, one moment.” Her thin fingers flew across the computer keys looking for the reservation. She frowned at the screen for a moment, then looked up and smiled, as if she realized who I was.

“Everything okay?” I asked, resting my arms on the counter. I glanced at my watch. I’d been on the plane for eight hours. Even though I had flown first class all the way, my back was screaming for a massage and I desperately needed a shower and a drink. If this reservation was fucked up, I was gonna go ballistic on some poor soul.

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. Again, 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 had 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.

I couldn’t believe after all these years, she hadn’t changed her phone number. Of course, I was too embarrassed to leave a message and I’m glad she didn't answer. I had no idea what I would have even said. Hell, her husband could have answered! Or one of her kids… Fuck.

I probably would have just hung up or said sorry wrong number. But since no one answered, I was completely off the hook.

“Another whiskey, sir?” the male bartender asked.

“One more,” I said with a sigh. I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand. Good thing I just had to ride the elevator up to the penthouse. The combination of the long flight and the four shots of Jack had me teetering on the stool.

I noticed movement to my left and glanced over to see a brunette with a short skirt and big tits sidle up to the bar next to me.

“Can I sit here?” she asked as she slid onto the stool and leaned in close. I looked at her in the mirror over the bar. Either I was drunk as shit or this babe was smokin’ hot! I turned sideways to give her the once over. She gave me a drunken smile. She was tall, thin, with the big jugs in a tight tank top. She was at least a 9, bordering on a 10. Her hair was blonde and curly and her lips painted a dark pink.

“Be my guest,” I said with a nod. I called the bartender over and she ordered a Long Island Iced Tea in a tall glass and I ordered another shot.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “So, where are you from?”

“California,” I said. “You?”

“I love California. I used to live in San Diego. Haven’t been out that way in ages.” She grinned as she stirred her drink with the straw and gave me the eye.

“It’s still sunny and hot,” I joked.

“Kristin,” she said as she extended her hand. “With a K.”

“Bob,” I said, giving her a fake name because I didn’t need the headache of her knowing who I really was. You met some crazy bitches in hotel bars. The kind of crazy bitches that showed up outside of your house at three in the morning claiming to be pregnant with your baby.

“Nice to meet you, Bob. What brings you to New York?”

“Business.”

“But not pleasure?” she said with a laugh. She wrapped her lips around the straw and gave me a sexy look. “You staying here?”

“I am.”

“For how long?”

“Couple of nights,” I said. I shot back the whiskey and held up my glass for another. “How about you?”

“How about me?”

I smiled. “Are you a guest or a working girl?”

She let her eyes go dreamy and touched my hand. “What if I’m a little of both?”

I glanced at her left hand. No ring. As the whiskey worked its way through me, I couldn’t help but get lost in her cleavage as she spoke. The tits were fake. Trust me, I could spot fake tits a mile way. But fake tits or not, I instantly wanted to bury my face between them. I could feel my cock getting hard just looking at them. Guess I wouldn’t be eating Chinese tonight after all.

“Well, Kristen with a K,” I said, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. “How about we take our business and pleasure up to my room”

Her eyes swept up and down me. She narrowed her eyes at me. “You look really familiar. Are you famous? What is it you do?”

I leaned in and whispered in her ear. My speech was slurred, but my cock was rock steady. “Get your big tits and your tight pussy upstairs and I’ll show you what I’m famous for.”

She frowned at me for a moment, then smiled and scraped a fingernail down my cheek. “Control freak, huh. I like that.”

She slid off the stool and took my hand and led me to the elevator. I had my fingers inside her box even before the doors opened to the penthouse.

* * *

I was usually the one in control, but tonight, for some reason, I let the woman take charge. And Kristen was definitely a take charge kind of gal.

We stripped off our clothes on the way to the bedroom. I let Kristen put her hands on my thick chest and push me back onto the bed on my back. She was clearly not like most of the women I’d had the pleasure of enjoying. She reminded me of me. Rough. Commanding. Controlling. Domineering. Did I say rough? It was her way or the highway. It was odd—and a total turn on—to be on the other side of the game for a change.

For the first time in my life, I allowed a woman to suck my cock before I put my mouth and hands on her. Usually, I planted my mouth over their clit or shoved my tongue in their pussy before they were even undressed. This time I gave her the satisfaction of pleasing me first. It was a nice little change of pace. I was surprised how much I was enjoying being the submissive one, at least for a moment.

With her hands milking my long shaft and her mouth on the head of my cock, she brought me to the edge twice before I pushed her off me and laid her on her back. Enough fucking around… Now it was my turn to show her how the game was really played.

“What are you doing?” she cooed, licking her lips. “I wasn’t done.”

“My turn…” I grinned at her as I leaned over the top of her, shoving two fingers inside her shaved snatch. She moaned and humped my hand as I reached up and gave her nipple a pinch. She quickly brought her hands up to cover her nipples.

“Move your hands,” I said, my fingers in deep to the knuckles.

“No,” she laughed. “You fucking pinched me! That hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, making a pouty face. “Would you like me to lick them and make it all better?”

She clenched her melons and smiled. Her nipples were large and dark, like raspberries. She rolled her fingers over them. “Yes. Suck them.”

My fingers kept sliding in and out. She was juicing like water through a firehose. My entire hand was oily and hot. Her breath was getting heavy. I said, “So you can play rough, but I can’t? Is that your game?”

“Depends on what you mean by rough,” she said, her eyes fluttering as she approached her first orgasm of the night.

I brought my lips gently to her nipple and swirled my tongue around. “My idea of playing rough is giving you a pleasure and pain experience that ends in the best orgasm of your life.”

“The best orgasm of my life?” she said, giggling. “I’ve had… some… pretty… good ones… in fact….” She arched her back as the orgasm started to ripple through her. I quickly pulled my hand from her cunt. She looked at me and frowned. “Hey, I was about to cum!”

“I’ll make you cum,” I said. “Like you’ve never cum before. But it has to be my way.”

She stared at me for a moment, then a smile crept across her lips. “You’re a kinky boy, aren’t you, Bob?”

“I am,” I said, sliding my fingers back inside her. “The question is, Kristen with a K...” My fingers slid into the knuckle. I curled my fingers and found her G-spot. Her body immediately went tense. “Are you a kinky girl?”

“Oh, yes…” she hissed, eyes closed, hands squeezing her own nipples so hard they turned purple. “I am a very kinky girl…”

“So, we play by my rules?”

She smiled as she gushed hot juices all over my hand.

She squeezed her tits and moaned as the orgasm shuddered through her. “Yes… let’s play… Chad…”

I vaguely heard her say my real name, but thought nothing of it. I was too busy working my way down her stomach to replace my fingers with my tongue.

The fact that she knew who I was didn’t slow me down.

To the contrary, it just made it better for me.

The Chad Walters legend lives on, baby.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Zoe

Monday morning rolled around much faster than I wanted it to. I forced myself out of bed at 6 A.M. (I could not believe people actually got up at such an ungodly hour) and barely had time to drink a cup of strong coffee before the doorman buzzed to let me know that the car service had arrived. I was a nervous wreck. I knew better than to eat anything because I could just picture it coming back up on camera. I already felt like I was going to hurl and knew better than to fuel the fire.

Breaking news…

Bestselling author Zoe Maxwell pukes on Good Morning Manhattan host…

Talk about your viral video moments…

I had picked out my outfit the night before and had it hanging in a garment bag by the front door: a black pencil skirt and jacket, along with a blue top, and sensible heels. Graham assured me the TV station would handle my hair and makeup, thank God, because I could barely get my eyes to focus as I stared at myself in the mirror while I brushed my teeth. He’d also had a service pick up the two hundred books I’d signed over the weekend (talk about writer’s cramp) and had them delivered to the station so I didn’t have to drag them along.

“You can show up naked in a trench coat,” he had teased as he ushered me out the door after dinner. “They have experts that can make even me look presentable.”

I stuck my phone and my keys in my purse, flung the garment bag over my shoulder, and went out the door. Zoe Maxwell, ready to take on the world… more or less.

* * *

It was a short car ride from my apartment to the TV studio downtown, although it took nearly an hour in the morning traffic. The car delivered me right to the front door and the driver said he’d be waiting to take me home after I was through. I had to admit, I felt a little special for a moment, a little like a celebrity, until I got out of the car and had to wait for the guard at the front desk to call someone with my name to make sure I had a legit reason to be there.

After a few moments, the elevator doors past the front desk opened and a short brunette in jeans and a WNYC t-shirt stepped out and came my way with her hand out. “Miss Maxell, thank you so much for coming. I’m Sara, one of the segment producers for Good Morning Manhattan.”

I gave her a nervous smile and shook her hand. “Hi, Sara. Please call me Zoe.”

“Great, Zoe, if you’ll follow me we’ll get up to hair and makeup.”

We boarded the elevator and she pushed the button, then leaned against the wall and smiled. “Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee? Tea? Juice? A bagel?”

I blew out a sigh and put a hand over my stomach. “No, honestly, I’m so nervous I might throw up my dinner from last week.”

She smiled and touched my arm reassuringly. “Don’t be nervous. Everyone gets a case of the jitters at first, but I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said, forcing a smile. The elevator doors opened and I followed her down a long hallway lined with framed photos of celebrities who had appeared on the show. George Clooney, Tom Cruise, Will Smith, Jennifer Anniston... I wondered what it would be like to be so famous that TV stations hung your picture on the wall. I doubted I’d ever find out, but it was a fun thought to have.

“Okay, you can just give me the garment bag and have a seat,” Sara said as we entered a room with a sign on the door that read, MAKEUP. I handed her the garment bag and she hung it on the door. There were two tall chairs like you’d see in a hair salon and an entire wall lined with counters filled with all kinds of makeup and huge lighted mirrors above them. I slid into one of the chairs and looked around. I wondered if Jennifer Anniston had sat in that very chair getting her famous hairdo done before the show.

Sara hung the garment bag on the door and turned to me with her hands clasped in front of her. “Okay, here’s how this will work. We are doing two segments in the 8:30 to 9:00 block. The focus is on emerging entrepreneurship and we’re featuring you in the last segment and a fitness guru in the first.”

“A fitness guru?” I asked.

She bobbed her head. “Yeah, I can’t recall his name because it’s not my segment, but he has some videos out and is really big on the West Coast, so we’re hoping that having him on will help the ratings there.”

I sort of listened as I stared at the TV that was hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room. The blonde hostess and the handsome host were doing a cooking segment with a chef I recognized from The Cooking Channel. They were doing something with eggs and kippers. I felt my stomach creeping into my throat.

Sara was rattling on. “So, after Emily does your hair and makeup, you can change and just wait here for me to come get you after 8:30.” She looked at me with expectant eyes. “Any questions?”

I slowly shook my head. She smiled again, told me I was gonna do great again, and trotted out of the room. An older woman came in and introduced herself as Emily and started fussing with my hair. I continued to stare at the TV and prayed that I wasn’t going to puke.

* * *

Emily quickly finished my hair and makeup, then I got dressed and sat back down to wait for Sara to come for me. I glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. It was almost 8:30. I would go on sometime between 8:45 and 8:50, depending on how the show was going. I wondered where the other guest was and Emily told me male guests didn’t sit in her chair for hair and makeup. They just get a quick dusting of powder and hair spray on set. I was getting the star treatment, she said with a smile. Star treatment or not, I was still nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers.

Only when a familiar face appeared at the door did my stomach start to calm down. Graham tapped on the door and beamed his best smile my way. “Any bestselling authors in here?”

“Graham, thank God!” I said, sliding out of the chair to give him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You’re gonna do great!” he said with a wink. “We’re all set. The books are here and they will be handed out to everyone after the segment ahead of yours ends.”

Sara suddenly appeared at the door with a look of urgency on her face. “Hey, are you ready?”

“I am,” I said, taking a deep breath.

Graham leaned in and kissed me lightly on the side of the head so as not to mess my makeup. “You’ll do great. I’ll be watching from the wings.”

“This way,” Sara said, crooking a finger at me. I fell in behind her like a good little soldier marching off to war. She spoke over her shoulder as I followed her through the maze of hallways to the set. “Okay, here’s how this will work. During the commercial break before your segment, I’ll get you situated on the couch with Dan and Erin. Everyone in the audience will have a copy of your book. Since it is an emerging entrepreneurs segment, Dan and Erin will get your tips on how to start writing as a business, then throw out a couple of questions about Pleasing Him, which was sooo fucking hot, by the way.”

I tried to smile. “Thanks.”

“The segment will last four minutes, but seem like four seconds. Once the segment ends, they’ll come back after the last commercial break to end the show with you staying on the couch. I think Graham said that you’d hang around for another few minutes or so to answer any questions the audience may have. And that’s it. Easy peasy and hopefully your book sales will soar.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” I said, fanning my face and trying not to sweat through the heavy makeup.

She led me to a chair that was behind a heavy curtain that cordoned off the backstage area from the set of the set. “You can wait here and watch the show on that monitor until I come for you. The set is just on the other side of the curtain, so you’ll also be able to hear Dan and Erin and the audience. Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Actually, I had a ton of questions, like, “What the hell was I doing there?” and “What the hell was Graham thinking?”

* * *

“Welcome back to the show!” Dan Williams, the “living Ken doll” host of Good Morning Manhattan said, waving at the camera and smiling like the happiest man on the planet. His “living Barbie doll” cohost, Erin Morris, smiled at Dan, then beamed at the camera. I had to smile. It was so corny it reminded me of a Saturday Night Live skit.

Erin held the smile as she said, “It’s Emerging Entrepreneur day here on the show. Before the break, we heard from Julie Dahl, who at age 23 founded Baby Dahl Designs, now one of the fastest growing lingerie lines for larger women. Julie had some great tips for those just starting out in the clothing business.” She turned to Dan, still smiling. “I don’t know about you, Dan, but I’m super excited to learn the success secrets from our next two entrepreneurs!”

“Ah, me, too, Erin,” Dan said. “So, let’s get to it!”

Erin read the introduction for the next guest. “Our next guest has built an amazing fitness empire from the ground up. Starting as a part-time personal trainer at age 24, he grew his business into what is now one of the fastest-growing fitness brands in the world. He’s also the go-to fitness guru for celebrities like Nicole Kitterman and Ryan Renault. And I’m sure most, if not all of you here today, know who I’m talking about! Now at the young age of just 34 he is living The American Dream. Would you please help me welcome the CEO and founder of Body by Chad, Mr. Chad Walters!”

My heart literally stopped beating in my chest when I heard his name… Did she really just say Chad Walters?

I stared at the monitor and tried to breathe as the audience—mostly women— went wild. I put my hands to my chest because it felt like the wind had been knocked out of my lungs. I stared at the monitor in shock, waiting for him to appear from the other side of the stage.

And then, there he was…

And oh my god…

I sat on the edge of my chair and watched Chad walk to the couch and give Erin a big hug. He turned to the audience and gave them a smile, which made them cheer even louder. The camera went in close on his face.

“Holy shit…” I muttered. I had thought he was good looking in college, but he looked even better now. Tall, sandy hair, blue eyes, deep tan, Kennedy jawline… and that body… holy smokes… that body… He was lean and muscular, with broad shoulders and a thick chest that stretched against the dark Polo shirt he wore. He had a narrow waist and wore workout pants and tennis shoes, like he’d just come from the gym. I felt an old familiar twinge between my legs.

I had heard that Chad had started his own fitness business in Los Angeles, but I had no idea he was a “trainer of celebrities” and a fitness guru. I had even heard of Body by Chad, but I didn’t know it was my Chad… I mean… that Chad...

He sat on the couch next to Erin with their knees touching. A tingle of jealousy bit at my heart. I listened as he talked about how he had started the business and how he was moving his brand eastward to open a gym in New York City.

“And what does your wife think about your success?” Erin asked, a little too flirty for my taste.

Chad smiled and tried to look humble. It must have been hard, given how amazing he looked. “I’m married to my work, Erin.”

“You’re a bachelor?” Erin said, trying to sound shocked. She put her hand on his knee and looked at the audience. “Well, I bet a lot of the single ladies in the audience are glad to hear that! And maybe a few of the married ones!”

The audience went wild. Just then, someone touched my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of the chair. I turned to find Sara standing there holding a clipboard to her chest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, no, just nerves,” I said.

She gave me a concerned look. “You look a little pale. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing the lump that had lodged in my throat. “I’ll be fine.” It was a blatant lie. I was not fine. I couldn't tell her that my heart was screaming and my stomach twisting in knots because my ex-boyfriend—my super-fucking hot ex-boyfriend that I dumped in college—was just on the other side of the curtain.

“Okay, I’ll take you on-set soon as this segment is over.” She turned to watch Chad on the monitor. “Wow, he’s really hot.” She bumped me with her elbow and lowered her voice. “He sort of reminds me of the guy in your book, the blond guy who’s into S&M, Brad? I bet he’d be great in bed.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. You have no idea…

Sara was wearing an earpiece so the director in the booth could speak directly to her. She held a finger to the earpiece and listened for a moment, then said something into the little microphone and gave me a smile.

“Okay, Zoe, this segment ends in one minute. We’ll give them a minute to clear the set, and as soon as this guest leaves I’ll walk you out to take a seat. The books will be passed out during the commercial break so everyone in the audience has a copy.”

“Um, right, sure…”

I followed Sara to the edge of the set. I was twenty feet away from Chad, who was hugging Erin and shaking Dan’s hand to thank them for having him on. I felt as if I had lapsed into a dream. My head was swimming and my vision started to blur. For a moment, I thought I might faint, but I forced myself to pull it together. I held my breath and stood behind Sara, waiting, wondering if he would even recognize me as he walked past.

I heard the crowd clapping and peered around Sara’s shoulder. Chad was walking towards me, smiling at the audience, waving goodbye. At first, he just glanced my way, then stopped and did a double take, then stood staring at me with his mouth hanging open.

“Oh my god,” he said, holding out his hands. “I don’t believe it. Zoe? Zoe Maxwell? Holy shit. I tried to call you last night.”

“You did?” I was mumbling, having a hard time forming words. I put my hands in his and he pulled me in for a hug.

“Jesus, I’ve missed you,” he said, brushing his lips to my ear. Before I could say or do anything, Sara had put her hand on my arm.

“We have to get onset now,” she said forcefully.

“Uh, okay,” I stared into Chad’s eyes. “It’s great seeing you.”

“You, too,” he said, letting go and taking a step back. He glanced at the copy of Pleasing Him Sara was holding to give me onset. “Oh my god, you’re that Zoe Maxwell. The writer?”

“We have to go,” Sara said, tugging on me now.

“Okay, well, it was good to see you,” he said as I was dragged away. He held up a thumb and smiled. “Break a leg.”

Break a leg? Oh, don’t worry. I’d probably break a number of limbs as I stumbled blindly through this interview. Chad Walters. Chad Fucking Walters, in the flesh, as if he had stepped out of the pages of my book and back into my life. At least I hoped he was back in my life…

After Sara sat me on the couch and introduced me to the hosts, I looked back toward the curtain. Chad was gone. My heart sank. Then the lights came up and audience clapped and Barbie and Ken started the segment. The next few minutes were a blur because all I could think about was Chad, the man I pushed away.

CHAPTER EIGHT: Chad

Zoe Maxwell.

Zoe fucking Maxwell.

A part of me still couldn’t believe it. I was halfway through the lobby, phone in my hand dialing Martin, when I stopped and turned to look at the large TV that was hanging on the wall. Zoe looked incredible in that pencil skirt she was wearing, the blouse that clutched her breasts, those sapphire eyes. She was smiling at the camera, and I could have sworn I was looking at the girl I had once know so many years ago. It’s like she hadn’t aged at all.

“You rock star, you!” Martin cheered when he finally picked up.

I kept my eyes on the screen, unable to pull away from those eyes that gazed right into the camera. She was nervous, it was clear as hell. Like a deer in the headlights. I would have felt sorry for her if I wasn’t still getting over the shock of running into her.

Of all places.

“Did you know that Zoe Maxwell was going to be on the segment?”

“Thank you, Martin. You’re a genius, Martin. I would be nothing without you, Martin. Those are the words I expect to hear come out of your mouth first.”

“Sure, you’re a God among men,” I replied, for some reason frustrated with the back and forth. “Zoe Maxwell. Did you know she would be here?”

“Zoe who?”

“The writer.”

There was a pause, and I turned to the girl at the desk and signaled her to turn up the volume. Dan was asking Zoe something, and I could see how Zoe tried her best to maintain eye contact. Like she had been trained or something. She looked so awkward, it was ridiculous.

“Wow, she’s a babe,” Martin’s voice broke through my daze. “What about her?”

“That’s my ex-girlfriend,” I replied. “The one I told you about years ago.”

On the screen, Zoe was smiling. It was fake, like it had been plastered on her face before the show along with the make-up.

“Where do you come up with the ideas for your books?” the blonde was asking her. “I find them simply… delicious! Don’t you audience?”

“Well, um, thanks,” Zoe was saying. “I guess I draw from personal experience, and – ”

“Personal experience?” Dan asked, winking at the audience. “Do tell us more.”

The audience laughed, and so did Zoe, although it looked a lot more like uncomfortable laughter than anything else. I remembered reading one of her books, or at least trying to. Who was I kidding? I had skipped most of the regular bullshit and concentrated on the sex scenes. I remembered thinking how kinky the writer was, but that was before I had any idea that Zoe Maxwell was my Zoe.

“No, nothing that personal,” Zoe said. “It’s still fiction.”

“Yeah, right,” I said.

“What’s the problem?” Martin asked in my ear.

I forgot he was still online. “You could have told me she’d be here. I felt like a fool running into her like that.”

“Sorry, but it’s kinda hard to keep track of who you’re dating, who you’re fucking, and who gave you a hand job while you showed them how to do their Pilates properly,” Martin replied. “I don’t keep tabs on your girls.”

No, you don’t. But I should have. I stepped closer to the TV, taking in the whole of her, my eyes running over every inch of her body. I noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. I should have tried calling her last night again.

“Are you still there?” Martin asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, “I’ll call you later.”

I hung up before he could say anything else and pocketed my phone. I stared at the TV screen, watching as Zoe’s head turned from Erin to Dan and back again. They were boxing her in, trying to get something juicy out of her. I looked at the girl behind the desk who was also staring at the TV. She had a wide smile on her face, and in front of her were a stack of books that had a shirtless dude on the cover.

“Are those her books?” I asked.

The girl looked at me and her smile widened. “Yeah, she’s an incredible writer. This book is sooo hot... I just read the first few chapters and I’m already in love with it.”

“You have to be careful, Dan,” the blonde was saying on the screen. “Zoe might just use you as a character in her next book.”

The audience laughed again, and Zoe shifted on the couch uncomfortably, then crossed her legs. Those long, beautiful legs. Legs that I remembered wrapping around my waist when I was making her scream.

“I’d make a dashing protagonist, I hope,” Dan said.

“I’m sure you would,” Zoe said, playing along, winking at him.

The audience laughed again, and I couldn’t hold back my smile. Dan fidgeted, Erin clapped her hands together, and the audience began to clap as if they were watching a magic show. It was magical… The way Zoe was winning them over, and looking sexy as hell while doing it.

I grabbed one of the books off the desk. Pleasing Him. I turned the book over and stared at the sapphire eyes of her picture on the back. She was so successful; the book didn’t even need a fucking blurb. The picture alone sold it.

“She’s doing a signing afterwards,” the girl at the desk said.

The audience had begun a long applause over the music going into the break. Zoe was shaking hands with both Erin and Dan. The camera panned to show an audience on its feet, every member holding a copy of her book in their hands.

I shouldn’t have let her dump me so easily.

I should have put up a fight.

I should have fought for her.

It occurred to me then, stronger than ever, and even though she had always been in the back of my head, actually seeing her made something in my mind snap, like a switch being thrown.

All of a sudden, I felt like there could be a lot more to this than just a chance encounter and the dilemma of whether to call her again or not.

I’m gonna get more than a book signed…

I made my way back to the studio.

***

I waited for her behind the curtains, watching as she signed one book after the other, posed for pictures, and shook hands. It was clear she was feeling uncomfortable again, because she kept looking at her watch and calling the segment producer with the tight ass over.

When it was finally done, I stepped out from behind the curtain and made my way to the table where she’d been signing books. She was getting her stuff together and shaking hands with Dan and Erin again when I caught her eye and saw her freeze.

“Chad?” she blinked at me under a frown. “What are you still doing here?”

“My book,” I said, smiling at her, holding up the book and shaking it. “Got time to sign one more?”

She hesitated for a second, then a nervous smile itched at the corner of her luscious lips.

“You two know each other?” Erin asked with a suspicious smile, as if she had just uncovered the biggest story of her life.

“We go way back,” I said as I watched Zoe fumble with her pen. Her hand was shaking. “Isn’t that right, Zoe?”

“Huh?” Zoe glanced up with a deer in headlights look, then muttered, “Uh, yes, long time, old friends.”

To help cover her nerves in front of Erin, I laughed and said, “She doesn’t like to talk about me. I’m the one who got away.”

Erin wanted to hear more, but the segment producer came by to pull her away. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you alone to catch up,” she said. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” She gave me the eye. “And Chad, be sure to give me the address to your New York studio once it’s up and running.”

She placed a hand on my arm and squeezed. I would have replied to that, maybe even offered a private session under the guise of a marketing strategy. But I didn’t. All I could think about was Zoe. I looked at her for a brief second, then shook Erin’s hand again and smiled.

“I’ll have my manager let you know,” I said formally, without a hint of flirtation. “And thanks again.”

I could see the look of disappointment on Erin’s face, but I didn’t care. Right now, I just wanted her to get the hell away so I could be alone with Zoe. I watched her leave just as the segment producer gave Zoe a quick hug.

“Thank you, Sara,” Zoe said. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You were great,” Sara said to her, then nodded at me. “It was nice meeting you, Chad. You should read that book. I was just telling Zoe that the male protagonist seemed a lot like you.”

“Is that so?” I asked, looking at Zoe as she turned to look away.

“Yeah,” Sara replied. “Read the book in one sitting. Kept me up all night.”

“I’ll be sure to give it a read,” I said. “Besides, it is Zoe Maxwell, after all.”

Sara left, and I felt the book being lifted from my hands. Zoe sat down and quickly started scribbling her name on the front page.

“You did really well,” I said, bending down a bit to try and meet her eye.

She smiled, but kept her eyes fixated on the page. “Thanks,” she said. “Your segment was really great, too. I didn’t know you had become this successful.”

“I guess we’re both full of surprises,” I said as she handed me the book.

Her eyes finally looked up at mine, and I found myself in that same messed up place I had always been whenever she looked at me. For a second I was thrown back to when we were in college, a rush of emotions bursting through me, a shitload of stuff that I had forgotten and was suddenly making me very uneasy.

I tried my best to keep my cool. “So how have you been?” I asked.

“Good,” she said, attempting another smile that didn’t work. She was obviously nervous. “Busy.”

“I can see that,” I said, holding the book up again. “Pleasing Him. Interesting title.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” I echoed. There was a sudden awkward silence as we both just looked at each other. “So, I tried calling you last night, didn’t know if you were still in town.”

“Oh, right, sorry about that,” Zoe replied, beginning to gather her things again. She stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I must have missed it.”

“Well, I’m in town for a few days,” I said. “Setting up for the new studio. I could really do with the company of a familiar face. I don’t know anyone in town, not anymore.”

Zoe smiled, a genuine smile this time. “I’m glad you thought of me.”

If only you had any idea.

“So how about dinner?” I asked. “If you’re free tonight, I’d love to catch up.”

She fidgeted, her eyes squinting at me for a second, before she finally said, “Sure. I have a few errands to run. Later tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She nodded, then struck out her hand. “Tonight it is.”

I stepped past her hand and gave her a tight hug, feeling her breasts push up against my chest. “I’ll call you,” I whispered, then stepped back.

She stood in frozen shock for a few seconds while I turned and walked away. I raised the book above my head and shook it. “I’ll have to read this before we meet.”

Yeah. Like I was going to waste my time doing that.

CHAPTER NINE: Zoe

“You did great!”

My hands were shaking as I held the cellphone to my ear. Graham’s voice on the other line was supposed to make me feel better, calmer, but all it did was make me more anxious. Chad’s cologne still filled my sense, and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me in that tight hug was a lingering reminder that I had, in fact, not been dreaming. Ever since I walked out of the studio, I couldn’t stop shaking. How he still had that effect on me, after all these years, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

I had tried to find Graham everywhere, but Sara told me he had left right after my segment. Which was just as well. I knew I had been a blabbering mess on the show, and I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t feel like trying to explain anything to him. Not now.

“I messed up,” I said, catching the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror before he quickly looked away.

“You did great,” Graham said in his usual assuring tone. “It was a big hit. And those free books, totally worth it. I’m telling you, Zoe, you had them eating out of the palm of your hands. I see big things for your next release.” He paused. “Sorry I couldn’t be there for the whole thing.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “I was signing books, not fighting a zombie apocalypse.” Although, in my head, it was pretty much the same thing.

“Look at you, all confident.”

“I don’t really feel like it, though,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Any word from the studio about how it went?”

I didn’t really care. I was just asking because I thought it was the thing to do. In reality, all I could think about was Chad. The smile. The way he looked at me. His body, oh God, his body. For a second, I almost lost myself in imagining what it would be like to see him without his shirt on again. Run my hands across his chest. I felt a tingling between my legs and quickly shifted in my place, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

I caught the driver staring again in the rearview mirror.

“Sara said everyone was thrilled by your appearance and want to book you again when the next book comes out,” Graham replied. “And to be honest, I’m really not surprised. That Chad character definitely turned the heat up, and you closed it off with the promise of a hot read. I have a feeling a lot of women are going to be putting that trainer’s face to your character now.” Graham chuckled, and I bit my lower lip, hoping he wouldn’t put two and two together. The similarities between Chad and the character in my book were too close for comfort. A lot of the scenes started playing in the back of my mind, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

The driver pulled up to my apartment and stepped out, racing around the car to open the door for me.

“I got to go, Graham,” I said as I stepped out into the sudden burst of New York noise. “I’ll call you later.”

“How about dinner tonight?” Graham asked. “A celebration of sorts.”

I hesitated. “I may have plans tonight.”

There was a brief silence on the other line before Graham said, “Rain check it is, then. Just call me in the morning, we have lots to discuss.”

“I will,” I promised. “Talk later.”

I hung up and was making my way to the front door when a hand tapped my shoulder from behind. I turned around to see the driver holding out a copy of my book in one hand and a pen in the other, smiling like a bashful child.

“My wife’s a big fan, Miss Maxwell,” he said. “I read it myself. You’re very…descriptive.”

I suddenly felt like a porn star as his eyes ran over me. I quickly grabbed the book and pen from his hands and took a deep breath, swallowing the words that were stinging my tongue. I didn’t understand how some people thought that just because I was an erotica writer, it automatically meant I was some kind of sex freak. I scribbled my name on the first page and handed the book back to him with as much of a smile as I could muster.

“Thank you,” I said and quickly walked away before he had a chance to start a conversation.

Too many people. Too many strangers.

I nodded at the doorman, then raced to the elevators, longing for the serenity of my apartment and the comfort of being alone. I clicked the close door button furiously as the elevator shut in front of me and began its ascent. I leaned against the large mirrored and sighed.

It was a churn of emotions. If I was one to give myself credit for a job well done, I would be patting myself on the back for how well the TV appearance went. Even though seeing Chad was like having a ghost pop up in a haunted house, I managed to muddle through the appearance to everyone’s delight. Except my own. Still, my emotions were all over the place. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream, to celebrate. And I knew it was because of him.

Chad Walters. The Chad Walters. The one I left behind, back in my life after all these years. And hot as fuck. And we were having dinner tonight. I bit my lip again, wondering what the hell I was thinking. Was this a good idea? How the hell was the night going to play out anyway?

I suddenly remembered that he had a copy of my book, and closed my eyes in silent agony. Knowing Chad, if he was anything like the man I remembered, he was probably going to use it as a door stop. The only thing Chad ever read was Sports Illustrated and Fitness Magazine. But time can change people. If he actually sat down and read it, he’d immediately make the connection that the main character was based on him. That could make tonight incredibly awkward, me wondering if he read the book and him wondering if I had really just detailed our sex life in print.

I rushed into my apartment, kicked off my heels and tossed the purse on the couch. I followed it, landing in the midst of cushions with a loud sigh. Every muscle in my body was tied in knots, and only then did I realize how tense I had been the entire day. My muscles were cramped like a full-body Charlie Horse. My feet felt like a dozen nails had been hammered into them, and my head ached like never before.

Hot shower.

I sat up slowly, pushing myself to my feet and making my way to the bathroom. My cellphone began to ring, but I ignored it, the thought of hot water over my body a stronger pull. I stripped out of my clothes, catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, and stopped. It had been a while since I looked at myself naked. Being in the constant spotlight, and of course dating a married man, had forced me to keep in shape, and a small smile crept onto my face when I took in my reflection.

“I definitely have something to offer, too, Chad Walters,” I said to myself.

I turned on the hot water and stepped under the shower. I turned the showerhead around so that it was shooting jets of water onto my back, and I sighed with relief as the tension slowly melted away. My muscles immediately began to relax. A wave of relaxation took over, and I leaned back into the shower, letting the water rush over my head and down my body.

With it, the day began to wash away. Gone was the anxiety from the interview and the book signing. I began to forget all about the hungry eyes that stared at me while I thanked my readers for their support, men and women alike. The memory of three cameras pointed at me, forcing me to think a rethink every move I did and word I said, slowly disappeared down the drain.

All that remained was Chad.

I closed my eyes, and for a second I felt as if I were staring into his. The air around my body cooled despite the hot water. I shivered, and through closed lids I began to imagine him undressed in front of me. Stepping into the shower beside me. His chiseled body, those strong hands caressing my side. I used my memory to fill in the blanks, and my senses just went along for the ride.

I let my mind go wild, and my breathing became deeper, hotter, each detail of his chiseled body making me shiver just a little more. My hand crawled down between my legs, the tingling feeling that had been there earlier now strong as hell. It was begging to be acknowledged, and with the water rushing over me, I slipped a finger between my pussy lips.

I groaned, holding the shower head tight as my body gave in. I imagined Chad’s hands there, between my legs, his tight body pressed against my back, his cock against my ass. I moved my finger, rubbing softly against my clit and moaned. I could almost feel his hot breath against my neck, his lips brushing against my ear the way it had when he hugged me at the studio.

I slipped a finger inside my cunt, moving it in and out slowly, my body arching against Chad’s imaginary cock. I moved my hand faster, and in the midst of it all, began moaning his name. The water mixed with my juices, and boy, was I dripping. I slipped a second finger inside, imagining him turning me around and thrusting deep inside me. I pressed my feet to the floor and my back to the way, trying not to slip as I flowed hot juices all over my hand.

“Damn you,” I moaned, imagining Chad smirking like he did so often after sex, saying “You’re welcome…” for making me cum. It was his way of maintaining control. And one of the reasons I ran as far away from him as possible.

At that moment, I hated him. I hated how he stirred up these feelings inside me again, how age had not changed how hot he was. On the contrary, he had become even hotter, and I felt the burning inside me only intensify when I imagined his mouth on my nipples, sucking hard.

Chad always had a penchant for the rough stuff. Squeezing my nipples a little too hard. Ramming his cock into me until I was sore. Tying my hands to the bed and slapping my ass so hard it left his handprint. He had these fur-lined handcuffs and blindfolds he asked me to wear. I’ll have to admit, I liked it rough, there was a definite turn-on for me, but again, for Chad, it was all about control. I wondered if he was still into it, the rough sex, the light S&M. I wondered if I would still enjoy it… I wondered if I’d have the chance to find out the answers to either or those questions.

I slid my fingers from inside and rubbed my clit, faster, harder, my hips grinding against my own hand, the whole of me wishing it was Chad’s hand making me cum again. I could see the smug look on his face when he was in control, doing whatever he wanted to my body, making me squirm in his touch. My hand tightened on the shower head as my knees buckled, and before I knew it, another orgasm shook through me like a tidal wave.

I leaned against the tiled wall, the hot water blasting against my naked body, my breaths coming in short gasps. I opened my eyes, whimpering with the reality of being alone in the shower, without Chad.

I turned around and let the water beat against my breasts. The heat that had built up was slowly subsiding, and I quickly finished off and stepped out from under the water.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, the red in my cheeks, the flush across my breasts, the heat between my legs, the devilish twinkle in my eyes.

I hadn’t seen the woman in the mirror in a long time.

I couldn’t deny the reason she was back.

It was Chad.

It was always Chad.

CHAPTER TEN: Chad

“Earth to Chad!”

I blinked, momentarily forgetting where I was until Martin’s fingers started snapping in front of my face. I was standing in the large space that was soon to be the New York City location of Body by Chad. The large windows across the front of the space and the dozens of people rushing past on the sidewalk made it feel like the place had welcomed in the public already, and it took a moment for me to fully come back from where my mind had drifted to.

The truth was, I couldn’t care less about the space right now. I had gone back to the hotel with only Zoe on my mind, horny as fuck, and fallen asleep after a quick ice-cold shower that only made me hornier.

I kept imagining her everywhere, with me in the shower, under me in bed, blonde hair falling over those magnificent breasts as she rode me like a cowgirl on a prized stud bull.

I even contemplated ringing up the hot Asian girl behind the check-in desk just to take the edge off, but rejected the idea almost immediately. It wasn’t like me to avoid pussy, but I didn’t want my imagination tainted if the time came for the real thing… scary thought, that… me with Zoe, like the old days and old nights…

I wondered if the years would only make things better or worse.

Martin had woken me up way too early, and I would have throttled him if it wasn’t for how excited he was to show me the new place. He kept throwing clothes at me, telling me to hurry up and get dressed, practically pushing me out of the suite.

And still, all I could think about was Zoe and our dinner later tonight.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like I’m talking to a zombie,” Martin sighed, snapping his fingers at me again. “Dude? Where the fuck are you? Will you focus please? If you like this space I need to get the attorney to negotiate the lease. This is New York City. Spaces like this don’t stay on the market for long.”

I slapped his hands away, irritated. “Sorry, just a little… preoccupied.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Martin asked. “We’re on the verge of making the biggest move this company has ever made, and you’re preoccupied?”

I didn’t answer, knowing that anything I said was probably just going to be returned by a snarky comment I wasn’t ready to deal with right now. I let my eyes wander over the spacious studio space and forced my brain to focus on the task at hand. It wasn’t as big as some of my studios in California, but it would do, and I could already see the place brimming with workout equipment, loud music, and bouncing tits… lots of beautiful, bouncing tits.

“So, this it is the best we can do, huh?” I said, still sounding like a cranky child who’d been woken too soon from his nap.

“Yeah, this is it,” Martin replied, arms outstretched, shaking his head. “You have no idea how fucking hard it is to find space in this neighborhood. A little appreciation would be nice, buddy.”

I smirked at him. “What do you want, a blowjob?”

Martin sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. There were times when I got the feeling that Martin wanted to just tell me to go fuck myself, then he’d run the numbers in his head and realize what a huge pay cut that might lead to. He took a deep breath and tried to maintain his cool. I felt a little bad that I was pushing his buttons even though that wasn’t my purpose. Hell, I pushed buttons just by breathing sometimes. Welcome to Planet Chad.

Martin gave me a pleading look and spread out his hands. “Just tell me what you think. Will the place do or not?”

I walked deeper into the space, which was just a blank canvas, four walls, a concrete floor, and a low ceiling. It had been thoroughly gutted after the last tenant moved out.

To help me focus, I started planning out in my mind where everything would go. In one corner, I could see a glass partition going up, the walls lined with mirrors for the Zumba and CrossFit classes that was the fucking craze these days.

I imagined the smoking hot trainer I’d bring in to teach Zumba standing on a stage, of the throng of women in front of her, trying to follow along, most failing miserably, but all shaking their asses and sweating through their spandex.

In my mind, the trainer looked my way and took on Zoe’s, then her clothes disappeared… big boobs bouncing on her chest… little vee of curls between her legs… fuck… I was getting a boner just thinking about…

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I glanced down to make sure the hard-on was all in my mind.

“I thought this would be a good place for the juice bar, and next to it the merchandise section,” Martin was saying, his hands painting the scene in the air. “I’m telling you, the women here are even more crazy about their looks than they are in California, man. We will probably make more in this one location than we do three in Cali.”

“You think?”

“Hell yeah,” Martin said, hands still cutting the air. “And over there, we can close that off for the sauna and Jacuzzi.”

I gave him a thoughtful frown and nodded along. “Right.”

“The stairs lead to a small space about the half the size of this one,” Martin continued. “You can close it off for the offices and a private sector for the really high rollers, you know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And there’s a basement where we could set up a meth lab and make some real cash. Maybe work with the Russian mob, do a little sex trafficking on the side.”

“Sounds good.”

Martin pushed me from behind, hard, and I staggered before whirling on him. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck?” Martin yelled back, hands in the air now like an angry ape. “Are you fucking kidding me? What’s wrong with you, man? It’s like I’m talking to myself here.”

“I’m listening,” I said defensively.

“Since when do you fucking listen?” Martin asked. “You’re the one who usually does the talking. Why aren’t you talking? Sounds good? A meth lab sounds good?”

“What meth lab?”

“Exactly,” Martin threw up his hands in exasperation. “What’s going on, Chad? I thought you’d be excited about this? It’s why we’re here.”

I blew out a long breath and shoved my hands into my pocket. “Nothing’s going on, okay. I’m just tired.”

“Chad Walters does not get tired,” Martin shot back. He eased his tone and put a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, if you’re getting cold feet, we could just drop this whole thing. Head back to California and forget about New York. But just so you know, you’re not going to build an empire unless we do this. New York is the first step to the world.”

“I know.” I sighed and shook my head. “It’s fine, really. I think it’s the jet lag. My brain’s just not firing on all cylinders today. Having a hard time focusing on anything.”

Anything other than Zoe Maxwell. Everywhere I looked, I saw her face and gorgeous body. On the treadmill, in the sauna, lying on the weight bench, arching her back, tightening her legs, grunting as she pushed me up and down, up and down...

All the time smiling at me like there was no one else in the place besides me and her. A part of me wanted to ring her up and have her come see the new space, but I knew that was a stupid idea. I had to deal with Martin first. I had to fucking focus.

I looked at my watch, then buried my hands back into my pockets. I was acting like a high school jock waiting for the time to pick up his girl for the prom. I clenched my teeth, hating the way I was feeling about all this. That’s what Zoe did to me, dammit. She made me lose control.

I hadn’t seen her for years, too long to even remember, and the minute she stepped back into my life, I was thrown off my game.

Sure, I’ve thought about her.

A lot.

But it was always just a memory of something that could have been great, but had ended. I didn’t expect to see ever her again, let alone feel like this. I was Chad fucking Walters. I didn’t pine away over a fucking girl…

“Is it that girl?” Martin asked. “That writer chick. Joey something?”

“Zoe,” I corrected. “Zoe Maxwell.”

“Yeah, the one who writes the dirty books,” Martin said, eyebrows flexing. “You guys dated in college?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“So, what happened?”

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve had more women in your life than you could count,” Martin said with a knowing smile. “What’s so special about this one? Was she your first or something? Was she the one who popped Chad Walters’ cherry.”

“That’s none of your business.” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Let’s try to keep this semi-professional, shall we?”

“Wow, those are words I never thought I’d never hear coming out of your mouth,” Martin said in a huff. “I’m going upstairs to check out the office space while you stand here and mope.”

“I’m not moping,” I called after him.

“Well, you’re not acting like Chad Walters,” Martin said. “That’s pretty much the same thing.”

I watched him take the stairs two by two and turned back to look at the afternoon crowd passing by out front. A few of the women glanced in and did double-takes, smiling at me, but I didn’t smile back. Martin was right: this was so unlike me, and I fucking hated it. I turned back to the studio and made my way deeper inside, standing in the area where Martin had suggested setting up the Jacuzzi.

I pictured the whole thing. The steam filling up the room, the walls lined with pegs, the bubbling sound of the water. My mind started conjuring Zoe again, sitting in the Jacuzzi, head back, eyes closed.

Get in here, rock star, she said with a wanting smile.

Then I realized it wasn’t Zoe in my mind…

It was someone else.

The woman who helped me get over Zoe.

The woman who taught me to never lose control again.

She was a tall brunette with breasts the size of melons barely hidden under the water, a seductive smile on her face. She was staring at me, waiting for me to climb in. I had just closed the place and locked the door. I heard a noise in the jacuzzi room. I opened the door and there she was. Naked. Smiling. Crooking her finger at me.

Jacky. Her name was Jacky.

I started to ask her what the hell she was doing, soaking in the tub without her clothes on. The health department would have shut me down if they had found her there. Then again, maybe they would have just let her play… Before I could say anything, she reached into the water and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Let’s make this a little interesting, she said, her pink tongue rimming her lips, her eyes dreamy in the steamy room.

It was a year after Zoe had dumped me, left me behind with a shattered heart. I had slept with maybe a dozen women before I met Jacky, all of them mirror images of Zoe, none of them satisfying me in the least bit. It was never good enough, never exciting enough, and I always felt worse after it than before it.

Jacky had changed that, though. Not entirely, but enough to keep me going. She had been one of my first clients, and one of the richest. Her husband was some tech millionaire who cared more about software than his wife, which I couldn’t understand. Jacky was a bomb, a fucking trophy wife of the highest magnitude. She had strutted into my studio smelling like money and pussy, demanding special treatment.

I gave her just that.

And a little more.

Then a lot more.

Having money came with control, and she had a lot of it to spare. What she was looking for was the exact opposite of control. She wanted someone who made her feel dominated, which her pussy of a husband couldn’t do. Jacky was an S&M submissive. And she offered to teach me how to be the dominant male in her life, which I was quick to agree to. Control. She taught me about control. It was what I needed after Zoe had broken my heart.

The sex was good, then it was fucking great. The first time she pulled out the handcuffs, I was a little taken back, but hey, what could I say? I was never going to say no to large breasts and a shaved pussy made of gold. Especially when she wanted me to do things to her I had never done to anyone before.

Jacky changed my life, and made me forget about Zoe. The screams of pleasure, those huge breasts bouncing in my face. It was exhilarating. The cuffs gave way to clamps, and the clamps to whips and leather and blindfolds and ball gags and so much more. I felt like a fucking titan, with Jacky as my personal sex toy.

She let me do anything and everything, and then some.

Imagine having that kind of power.

It was as addictive as crack.

That was until her husband found out, and she suddenly disappeared from my life. I was depressed again, hurt, angry, and I felt like I was losing control all over again. Martin made it all go away by forcing me to focus on work and building the business, but I was left with a sudden emptiness that quickly brought Zoe back into the forefront of my mind. From then on, the cuffs and clamps were the only way I could get off. The only way I really had control. Without them, I was as impotent as a fucking eunuch.

* * *

“Are you going to just stand there forever staring into the corner of the room?” I turned and looked at Martin as he made his way down the stairs to stand beside me. “Tell me you’re not still thinking about Zoe Maxwell.”

“I was thinking that you were right,” I said, forcing a smile, summoning Chad Walters back from the darkness. I held out my hands and waved them through the air as if I were performing a magic trick. “This would make a great area for a jacuzzi.”

Martin cut me a sideways glance. “So…”

“So, let’s sign the lease and get this motherfucker open,” I said.

“Body by Chad New York City, baby!” Martin said, slapping me on the back. “Soon, my friend, you’ll be the biggest name in town.”

“I’m already the biggest name in town.” I shot him a cocky smile, then looked at my watch again and headed for the door. I needed to call Zoe, but didn’t mention that to him.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked. “We need to celebrate.”

“Raincheck it,” I said, reaching for the door. I had my phone in my hand. I waved it at him. “There is a certain blonde TV host who is waiting to have her body worked over by Chad. I’ll call you later.”

Before he could say a word, I ducked out and headed up the sidewalk with the phone at my ear.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Zoe

I didn’t really expect the call. Not really. Knowing Chad, I expected him to blow me off and forget about the whole thing entirely. After the shower, I couldn’t help but do some research on him, and my God, was he big. Body by Chad was more than just a successful fitness studio, it was a serious business and a huge brand. It was a surprise that he had even taken the time to show up in New York for the interview at all.

There were a dozen big names associated with Chad. I had never seen so many celebrities endorse a single business like this. He was a star amongst stars, and everyone loved him. At one point, I even wondered why he had bothered to do the interview in the first place. He clearly didn’t need it. His success made mine look like I had won the Spelling Bee at school.

So, I didn’t expect him to call. We had too much history, too many memories. I had, after all, dumped him and moved on, and it was hard to believe that someone who had grown this successful would bother with the woman who had left him behind.

But he did call.

The ringing of my cellphone startled me at first, and I hesitated when I saw his number. I was still trying to wrap my head around what I had read about him, and the intense orgasm in the shower. I tried to compose myself, paranoid that he might actually know about the shower or that I was researching him.

Get a grip. Show some balls. Dinner was his idea, after all.

Then a second thought hit me. What if this was just a ploy to get back at me?

Stop it. Answer the damn call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Zoe, it’s me,” Chad’s voice was like the whisper of a ghost in my ear, and I felt myself smiling. “Thought you wouldn’t answer.”

“Why wouldn’t I answer?”

“Just thought –” His voice trailed off, then came back a lot more confident. “You know, big shot author and all that, probably had some plans to celebrate today’s show.”

“I promised you dinner,” I replied. Yeah, because I’ve always been great with the promises.

Chad laughed on the other end. “Yes, you did,” he said. “Okay, so eight? Sound good?”

“Nine,” I said.

Chad laughed. “Okay, nine it is.”

My hands shook as I hung up and put the phone down on the table. I tried to control the beating in my chest. What the hell was I doing? Eight was fine. Why did I insist on nine? I sighed and threw my head back, running my fingers through my hair and shaking the strands about. I got up and walked over to the couch, noting the time on the wall. I had at least three hours to kill.

Damn it, Zoe, eight was fine.

But a part of me knew that it wasn’t.

Eight was definitely not fine.

I knew Chad, and a lot of men like him. The controlling type. The type that had to have their way. And for some stupid reason I was constantly drawn to them. Chad, Mark, and a bunch of others who never lasted more than a few weeks. They all wanted the same thing; control. And I was willing to give it to them.

Making sure Chad picked me up at nine instead of eight was like a silent shot at not letting him take control. It felt weird, much different than what I was used to, and I felt a small thrill race through me.

You’ve grown petty in your old age, haven’t you, Zoe?

Maybe. But this wasn’t some random first date. This was Chad Walters, owner of Body by Chad, and I needed to be on top of my game. The memory of my orgasm was still fresh I my mind, and if I didn’t get myself together, I’d have the real Chad in my shower by the end of dinner, doing whatever he wanted to me. And letting him do it willingly.

Would that be so bad?

The tingling between my legs surprised me, and I quickly pushed the thought away.

Yes, it would be bad.

Very bad.

But in a very good way…

* * *

Chad was waiting with a cab out front of my building at nine. When I came out the door he was leaning against the cab, looking like a Calvin Kline model at a photo shoot.

Dressed to kill in tight jeans, a black polo that showcased the chiseled body beneath, and a black blazer. He looked incredible. It was easy to see why he had such an internet reputation as a bad boy. Chad was always good looking, but now… wow…

“You look ravishing,” Chad said, taking me in with his eyes as he held open the taxi’s rear door. He took my hand to help me inside. The hem rode a bit over my knees and accentuated my long legs. I could see how his eyes immediately dropped to them before he gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. “I feel like I’m underdressed.”

“You look great,” I said with a smile. “Unless we’re going to get pizza, then we’re both kinda screwed.”

“Definitely not pizza.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Come, my lady, your chariot awaits.”

* * *

We rode in silence, both of us staring straight ahead. I didn’t want to be the first to break the silence, but it was slowly getting awkward. I had to say something, anything, and I turned to look at him.

The dim lights coming in from the streets dropped shadows across his face, making him look like a Greek God. I felt myself choke on my words, and quickly turned when his eyes shifted to me.

I looked out the window and tried to ignore the smug smile that appeared on his face.

Smooth, Zoe, real smooth.

* * *

Vittorio’s was packed, but the maître d’ showed us to a romantic table looking out at the indoor garden. The dim lighting and soft Italian music playing in the background only added to the mood. Conversation filled the small restaurant and bar, a mix of whispers and gentle laughter that made me feel like I had just walked into a movie.

I had been here before, a dinner gathering when Pleasing Him had first been released, but had never found the time to come again. I was surprised that Chad had chosen the restaurant. It wasn’t a place I had expected him to take me to.

We sat on opposite sides of the table, in awkward silence again, while we scanned the menus and gave the waiter our orders. Chicken Masala for me, spaghetti with meatballs for Chad. The waiter appeared a few minutes later with a bottle of 1951 Penfolds Grange Hermitage. I raised my eyebrows at Chad.

“I know my wine,” he smiled.

“You’ve gotten very continental over the years,” I said with a smile.

“Well, actually, I Googled it,” he said with a grin. He held up his glass and tapped it lightly to mine. “To old times.”

“To old times,” I said. I sipped the wine and scanned the crowd around us. “This place is beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it,” Chad said, following my gaze. “To be honest, I’m clueless when it comes to New York. Martin made the reservations.”

“Martin?”

“My manager, Martin Friese,” Chad replied. “More of friend, actually. Wouldn’t be here without him.”

I frowned at Chad’s show of humility, which I had never seen from him before. It was unlike Chad to give credit to someone else for his successes. It made me wonder what else had changed about him.

“Must be a great a guy,” I said, wanting to hear more, fishing for the catch.

“He is,” Chad said with a sincere smile. “He set up the whole entry into New York. I mean, sure, I know there’s a lot in it for him, but sometimes I get the feeling he’s more of a partner than a manager.”

“Worried you might have to share the spoils?”

Chad laughed, and his eyes pierced mine. I had a feeling he knew I was fishing, and instantly turned my eyes away, concentrating on the wine that tasted like heaven.

“So, Zoe Maxwell, tell me,” Chad said with a sigh. “What does the world of a bestselling author look like? Mansions? Cars? A place in the Hamptons?”

“I wish,” I snorted, a little too quickly. “People have the wrong idea about authors, bestsellers or not. We don’t all live like James Patterson or Stephen King. In fact, less than one-percent of authors actually make a living off their work.”

“You seem to be doing fine,” Chad said, smiling over his glass. That damn smile... It was melting me despite my best efforts to resist. The heat was building in my belly. I was getting moist. I could smell the faint scent of my own juices.

“I’m doing okay,” I said, trying not to blush.

He shrugged. “You are not living in a hovel, by any means, at least judging from the outside of the building.”

I smiled. Was he hinting that he wanted to see the inside of my apartment?

“Well, I don’t live like you do, I’m sure,” I smiled back, slowly getting comfortable. “I’m sure your place in L.A. would make my little apartment look like a broom closet.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Your apartment must be pretty impressive. What floor are you on? Which way does the apartment face?”

“Why do you ask?” I was being demure. He seemed enamored by it. Maybe he had grown up after all. The juices flowed.

“Because of the view,” he said nonchalantly. “Bet you have one hell of a view from…”

“The twelfth floor,” I said, giggling. “I have a lovely view of the building next door.”

“Remember your old apartment back in the day?” he asked, shaking his head at the memory. “What a shit hole that was.”

“Yes, I live in a much nicer shit hole now,” I said with a grin.

Chad laughed, and I found myself laughing along with him. I swirled the wine in my glass, and looked towards the bar where a couple was cozying up over drinks. I felt good, strangely so, and started to fight back the paranoia that something was going to go terribly wrong with the night. I looked back at Chad to find him staring right at me.

I felt my cheeks heating up. In fact, all of me was heating up. The fire had started down below and was rising up, over my belly, across my breasts, up my neck… The way he was looking at me took me back to a time when I would have done anything to keep those eyes locked on me. It was funny how something as simple as a look could have that effect.

“I’ve missed you, Zoe,” Chad said.

I squinted at him and cocked my head to a side. “Have you?”

Chad raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Big business man such as yourself, surrounded by so many celebrities?” I teased. “I wouldn’t have thought that I had even crossed your mind after so many years.”

It was a bold thing to say, and maybe a bit rude, but what the hell. For some reason, I felt bold. I didn’t know if it was the wine, or me trying to prove something to Chad. Or to myself. It was like a silent statement that, like him, I had changed. I wasn’t the same mild-mannered girl he once knew. At least not tonight. I could let the insecurities plague me later.

“Celebrities are highly overrated,” Chad said, rolling his eyes. “They wouldn’t vouch for me unless they got something in return.”

“A few private sessions with Chad Walters?” I teased.

“More like a few free sessions with Chad Walters,” he said with a sigh that told me he wasn’t kidding. “It is a fucking dog eat dog world in L.A. Only the big dogs win. And most businesses, especially ones like mine, are built on what I can do for them first, then maybe they’ll do something for me later. I had to do a lot of favors. And not all of them were returned.”

There was something in the way he said it, an underlying tone, that had me guessing that there was more to the story than he was letting on. But I was fine letting it go for now. I was seeing a new side to Chad. I didn’t want to screw that up. At least not yet.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I had never thought about you, too,” I said, meeting his eyes. “The guy I once knew.”

His smiled faded into the fog of bad memories between us. He set down his glass and stared into it. “You mean the guy you left behind?”

I hesitated, already feeling the rush of emotions racing through me, and the stammering that was bound to happen once we got into this. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, he was going to confront me about leaving him behind. Dumping him. Running away. I had hurt him, after all. Maybe this was payback. Luring me to this restaurant, getting me all comfortable with expensive wine, making my blood boil with his fucking eyes and luscious lips.

Chad Walters, back in control, lashing out one last time at the one girl who could resist his charms. The one girl who pushed him away.

I took another sip of my wine and met his gaze. “I didn’t leave you behind.”

“You left.”

“After we broke up,” I said. “And don’t pretend that it was all me. It takes two to kill a relationship, you know.”

He didn’t reply right away, just stared at me. I guess my reply had startled him as much as it had startled me.

“I never really got over you, you know,” Chad said quietly.

“Is this what tonight’s about, Chad?” I asked, putting my glass down and dabbing my lips with a napkin. “Laying a guilt trip on me? Paying me back for whatever wrong you feel I’ve done to you by humiliating me publicly?”

“No, not at all,” he said quickly, sincerely. He reached across the table to put his hand on mine, and for a minute my entire body froze. “I’m just really glad we bumped into each other again. Really.”

I had no idea what was going on, or who the man sitting opposite me was. This wasn’t Chad Walters, at least not the one I knew. Sure, the ego was still there. It radiated from him. And that little mischief in his eyes was all but apparent. But something had changed. Something vital to who he was, or who I believed he was. And that threw me off my guard. What little control I had was starting to waver, thanks to heat between my legs and the fog rolling in over my brain.

“I’m not gonna fuck you for old time sake, Chad,” I said, and even before the words were out of my mouth, I felt a shudder of excitement race through my body. Even his eyes went wide, and there was a small part of me, the one not shocked at what I had just said, that was thrilled to see the look of surprise on his face.

His smile faded into a frown. He blinked at me. “What are you saying?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then sighed.

Oh, what the hell?

I had nothing to lose.

“If this is just payback or some weird plan to fuck me,” I said, leaning in, lowering my voice to a growl. “Then don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going to sleep with you because I feel bad about breaking up with you. I don’t. I never have.”

It was a lie, but he didn’t have to know that.

Chad began to laugh and let go of my hand. “Wow, you really have changed, Zoe,” he said. “Don’t worry. This is just me taking an old friend out for dinner. Catching up. That sort of thing. What’s in the past is in the past. No agenda. You have my word.”

For some reason, I didn’t really believe a word he said, and a voice in my head chastised me for being so blunt. You were just masturbating to the thought of him in the shower. I returned his smile and shook my head. Sure, he was doing things to me that I wish I could have controlled, but it was my choice just how much of it became a reality. I wasn’t going to let another man into my life just to have him walk all over me again. I had that with Chad once, and Mark, and I was sick of it.

Thankfully, the waiter came with the food, giving us a welcome break in the tense conversation. As the food was set out, Chad and I sat back and stared at each other, as if we were trying to read each other’s minds.

“Let’s shift gears and eat,” Chad said, leaning over his plate to inhale the aroma steaming off the spaghetti. He reached for his silverware. “Martin assures me the food’s delicious here.”

I lay my napkin in my lap and picked up my fork and knife. The knife was hovering over a piece of chicken when a couple stepping up to the bar caught my eye. Without meaning to, I said, “Oh, shit…”

Chad looked up with a mouth full of spaghetti and frowned. “What’s wrong? Did they screw up your food?”

“No, it’s just… shit…”

It was too late to look away. Mark had spotted me. He was standing at the bar with a busty brunette on his arm that was not his wife. He whispered something in her ear and she giggled, then he slid her on to a barstool and headed my way.

“Well, look who we have here,” Mark said, hands out, all smiles. “Didn’t expect to run into you out on the town.”

“Hello, Mark,” I said, trying to ignore his amused smirk. I held the knife and squeezed my fingers tightly around the handle. My eyes briefly met Chad’s, and I could see that he noticed how uncomfortable I was. His forehead wrinkled as he glanced up at Mark.

“And who’s your friend, Zoe?” Mark asked, folding his arms over his chest and turning to stare down at Chad.

“Chad Walters,” Chad said curtly.

“Chad Walters of Body by Chad?” Mark asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Fitness guy. Out of Los Angeles or Las Vegas or someplace like that. You were on that show before Zoe’s interview this morning.”

“I was,” Chad replied, looking up at Mark like a lion about to pounce. There was a tiny vein pulsating along Chad’s right temple. I’d seen that vein before. The night Chad mopped up a dive bar with a drunk who had made the mistake of hitting on me in front of him.

“Well, good for you,” Mark said, giving Chad a condescending up and down look. I thought about warning Mark that he was inching close to the edge of Chad’s tolerance, then thought better of it. I assumed Chad would not make a scene, even though Mark seemed determined to. He turned to me and sneered. God, what did I ever see in this man?

“So, Zoe, I was trying to call you earlier,” Mark said. “Kept going to voicemail.”

My mind briefly registered the phone call I had ignored before going into the shower. I never checked who it was.

“I was busy,” I said.

“I can see that,” Mark said, glancing at Chad again, his voice filled with innuendo. “Listen, I need to talk to you. The last time you called, I was in a bit of a bad place, and might have said a few things I didn’t mean.”

“Might have?” I asked, suddenly unable to disguise my anger. I shook the knife at him and he playfully held up his hands. “I think you called me a fucking skank, Mark. So yeah, you might have said a few things you shouldn’t have, but I seriously doubt you regret them.”

I could see the anger building in Chad’s face. “He called you a what?”

“Please, Chad, it’s fine,” I said. “I’ve got this.”

Mark chuckled, as if I had said something funny. From the corner of my eye, I could see Chad gently put down his cutlery and wipe his hands and mouth on a napkin.

“Yeah, well, you had that coming, I’m afraid,” Mark said with a sigh. “But hey, I’m a forgiving guy, so, why don’t we go somewhere private and talk –”

“I think you’re done talking,” Chad said, his thick fingers flexing on the table, the vein in his temple throbbing like a snake in a bag. “You need to step away before you get hurt.”

Mark turned to him, his fake lawyer smile plastered across his face. He had been drinking. I could see it in his eyes and smell it on his breath. When Mark drank, his balls grew a couple of sizes. Which, for someone like Chad, just made them a bigger target.

Mark snarled at him. “What did you say?”

“I said, we’re trying to have a nice, quiet dinner, and you’re kinda fucking it up,” Chad replied calmly. He cut his eyes at Mark. The threat was there. I knew what was going to happen and I should have stopped it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted to see what Chad would do to Mark.

Mark turned to me with a look of utter disdain and jabbed a thumb toward Chad. “Who is this fucking guy to you?” he asked, scowling. “Really, Zoe, I thought you could do better than some muscled up asshole like this piece of shit.”

I barely had time to blink, Chad moved so quickly. He was out of his seat in a second, and before I knew what was happening, Mark’s face was slamming against the table so hard everything on the table jumped. Out of reflex, I supposed, Mark grabbed at the table cloth as he sunk to the floor, taking the wine and our dinner with him. He ended up in a heap on the floor, covered in wine and spaghetti sauce.

“What the hell, Chad?” I screamed, suddenly furious even though I knew what was going to happen. My mind was racing and everyone in the restaurant was looking at us. And I felt like a total hypocrite. I wanted Chad to put Mark in his place, but I wasn’t expecting… this. Still, I could not deny the tingle in my clit or the dampness in my panties. Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea.

Mark moaned on the floor, rolling onto one side as he clenched his nose. Blood ran through his fingers and dripped onto the restaurant floor.

“You son of a bitch!” he yelled, his voice muffled. “I’m going to sue your ass!”

It was so like Mark.

Not man enough to fight, but lawyer enough to sue.

Chad picked up the only glass of wine that had not been knocked from the table and poured it over Mark’s face to drown out his words.

“Chad!” I yelled, getting to my feet and stepping back. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Exactly what you wanted me to do,” he said with a frown. “I saw that look in your eye. You can’t deny it. You wanted me to kick this guy’s ass and I did.” He stepped closer and gave me the smile that used to melt me in my panties. “Now, why don’t we go back to your place and— “

His words were cut short by my hand going across his face.

He took a step back, stunned, but smiling, still smiling.

“Good to see you still like it rough,” he said, rubbing his cheek. “And you haven’t lost your touch.”

Mark was squirming on the floor. The maître d’ was trying to help him up. Someone mentioned calling the cops. Chad was still looking at me… smiling… licking his lips…

I felt the moisture start to flow in force. Pooling in my panties like water from a hot spring. My nipples plumped in my bra. My mouth was literally watering for him. I wanted to touch him, to feel him, to have him inside me. It was as if I was under his control…

Control…

Dammit…

I was losing control…

Fuck it… I had lost control…

As if I had ever had it to lose.

The only moment I was in control of my relationship with Chad was the moment I walked out the door for the last time.

“Goodbye, Chad,” I said, shaking my head as I reached for my purse. “Please don’t ever call me again.”

CHAPTER TWELVE: Chad

I could not fucking believe Zoe was leaving. Again. I had put this guy on his ass for her and she had the nerve to blow up at me and rush out of the restaurant as if I did something wrong?

Fuck her.

That’s what I wanted to say.

Fuck her.

But something in my brain said no, fuck you if you let her get away again.

I tried to race after her. That look in her eyes, the way she stared me like I had just punched her mother, it really hit me hard. I had never expected to get that look from her. I expected shy, awkward maybe, but never straight out hate. And for what? The lowlife that was writhing on the floor and crying out like a fucking baby because I’d broken his fat nose? The motherfucker should thank me. I was sure it would improve his looks.

The waiters held me back for a bit, and the maître d’ told me the police were coming, but I tossed two hundred-dollar bills on the table and pushed past them. By the time I had made it outside the restaurant, she was gone. I cursed out loud, making a few heads turn.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” I screamed at a lady who made sure there was enough distance between me and her as she walked past.

I tried to calm down. I had an image to maintain, after all, and soon my face would be plastered all over the city. I couldn’t let something like this blow that all to hell.

I stood on the sidewalk, fuming as I waved down a cab. I was angry. Fucking furious. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to play out. When I had asked Zoe to dinner, I had intended for a small romantic dinner with maybe a quick kiss goodnight and the promise to do this again. Nothing more. Seriously, nothing more. I just wanted to spend some time with her, catch up, maybe get some closure or just see where things might lead. And to do it the right way. Like the gentleman she wanted me to be. Right now, those plans were as badly crushed as that guy’s nose.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the taxi dropped me in front of Zoe’s building. I handed the driver a hundred and told him to keep the change. I was less furious at Zoe now, but still seething at myself. Why couldn’t I have just let her handle the guy? I mean, obviously, there was something there that… holy shit… Jesus, Chad… you stupid fuck… obviously that was someone she had been seeing… someone she must have cared for at one time… And I had driven his face into the table…

Shit.

No wonder she was pissed.

Maybe she was still carrying a torch for him.

Maybe I was just wasting my time because of my stupid pride.

“Fuck it,” I said under my breath as I plastered on my best smile and nodded to the doorman, then went up to the desk. There was a big guy in a blue blazer behind the desk, older with a gray buzz cut and suspicious eyes. He stared as I approached. I had waited in the cab when I picked Zoe up. I hadn’t paid much attention to the building where she lived. A fucking doorman? A concierge? Marble floors? Zoe was doing fine for herself. This was a far cry from that little apartment I was giving her shit about at dinner.

“Hi, can you ring Zoe Maxwell for me,” I said formally, giving him my best “I mean you no harm” smile.

“Is she expecting you?” he asked, still giving me a suspicious eye.

“No, but I’m sure she’ll see me,” I said. I set another hundred-dollar bill on the desk and slid it toward him. “Tell her it’s Chad Walters. We were just at dinner and she left her cellphone in the cab.”

He squinted at me for a second, then pushed the hundred bucks back toward me. He picked up the phone and dialed. “Miss Maxwell, Hank at the desk. Yes, ma’am. There’s a gentleman in the lobby to see you. Yes, Mr. Walters...”

Hank went silent for a few seconds, then said, “He says you forgot your cellphone at dinner and he has it.” More silence, a nod. “Yes, Miss Maxwell. No problem at all.” He hung up and folded his thick arms over his chest. He nodded at the door. “Miss Maxwell says her cellphone is with her, and that I should ask you to leave. Politely. Or call the police if you refuse to go.”

“Ah, okay, my mistake then,” I said holding up my hands, taking a step back. “You have a good night.”

Twelfth floor. She said she was on the twelfth floor.

I turned around and broke into a sprint past the desk.

“Hey!” Hank yelled as I raced past him.

I immediately made for the stairwell at the end of the corridor. I threw my weight against the stairwell door and began taking the stairs by twos. I could hear Hank huffing behind me, yelling, but after the first two floors, I was sure I had lost him. There was no way he was going to run up twelve flights of stairs without having a fucking heart attack.

I burst out of the stairwell at the twelfth floor, sweating and panting, and stood frozen at the end of the hall. There were a dozen apartments on the floor, and nothing at all to even hint at which one was Zoe’s.

“Zoe!” I yelled, slamming my fist repeatedly on the first two doors nearest me. “Zoe open the fucking door!”

I heard the chimes of the elevator and knew that Hank had caught up with me. He came barreling off the elevator with the look of a man possessed and grabbed me by the arm. I was about to swirl around and punch him in the face when a door behind me opened. We both turned to look at Zoe, who still looked stunning in her little black cocktail dress.

“Chad, what the fuck are you doing?” she asked.

“I came to apologize,” I said, wrestling out of Hank’s grip. The man might not have been fit, but he was strong as hell, and quickly twisted my arm behind my back and pushed me against the wall. I got the feeling that he was an old cop used to dealing with assholes like me.

“Sorry, Miss Maxwell,” Hank said. “I’ll take him downstairs and call the police.”

Another door opened and an elderly woman stuck her head out. Then a second door, then a third. The ruckus was bringing everyone out of their apartments, and I could see Zoe’s face turning bright red.

“Jesus Christ, Chad,” she hissed, grabbing me and pulling me inside. “Thanks, Hank, I’ll handle this.”

“Are you sure?” Hank asked.

She pushed me inside, a little too roughly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said and closed the door.

* * *

“Are you fucking insane?” Zoe yelled. “Do you have any idea what you just did? I’m going to be the gossip of the entire building thanks to you!”

“I thought they already talked about you everywhere?” I said, trying and failing at being cute.

Zoe huffed and threw her hands up in the air. “You are fucking unbelievable,” she said, walking away.

I was taken aback, a little surprised at her outburst, wondering if her anger had more to do with her embarrassment than with what I had done at the restaurant. This was a side to Zoe I had never seen before. Strong. Forceful. Powerful. Controlling. I kind of… liked it.

I followed her into the living room and she turned around quickly, pointing a finger at me. “Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me tonight? I live in this city, Chad! You are going to be on a fucking plane out in a few days, and I have to endure the dirty looks and the fucking gossip columns! I probably won’t ever be allowed into Vittorio’s again!”

“Yeah, the maître d’ was kinda pissed,” I said with a smile. “The spaghetti was a little overcooked anyway, so…”

“Will you fucking stop kidding around!” she screamed, throwing a punch at my chest that probably hurt her more than it did me. “You’re an asshole, Chad! A fucking asshole!”

“You know, you’ve used the word ‘fuck’ more in the past minute than I ever heard you use it in our entire time together,” I said.

She swirled around, angry, and yelled in my face, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She punched me again. “Fuck you, Chad Walters! Fuck you for coming back into my life! Fuck you for making me think you were any different than you were before! Fuck you for making me think that I could have a nice night with you! Fuck you very much!”

“Could you fucking calm down?” I said, my voice rising. “I actually wanted to have a nice dinner. It’s not my fault that jackass ruined it for us.”

“No!” she shot back. “You ruined it! That jackass was going to leave us alone eventually. You had to act like some fucking perverted version of Chuck Norris and break his fucking nose!”

“He deserved it,” I shouted back. “And I’m more like Jason Statham.”

“I know he deserved it!” she yelled. “But I didn’t! I didn’t deserve that kind of embarrassment! Damn it, Chad, I’m tired, exhausted, sick of all the shit that’s been happening to me, and just wanted a nice night out. I didn’t fucking deserve this!”

She turned around and walked in small circles around the living room, her head in her hands, her breathing heavy. She looked like she was going to have a panic attack. I reached for her, but she pulled away.

“Please, don’t touch me,” she said. “Just get out.”

“Zoe –”

“Get out!”

I didn’t move. I met her gaze and stood my ground. She frowned at me and shook her head, as if confused as to why I wouldn’t just do what she said.

“I said out!” she screamed, pushing at me, but I didn’t budge. She started throwing punches again, slamming her hard fists against my chest. I grabbed her and pulled her into me, holding her close.

“Let go of me, Chad!” she yelled, still trying to punch even though her arms were pressed into my chest and couldn’t move. “Let go of me you bastard!”

“Calm down,” I said softly, trying to stop her assault, keeping her close.

“Let go!” she screamed, and then suddenly fell against my chest and began to cry.

“Dammit, Chad…” she said, her tears on my cheek. “Just fucking hold me… please… just… hold me.”

* * *

We were on her couch, her head lying on my lap as I stroked her hair. It had taken me a few minutes to get her to stop crying, and a few glasses of wine before she finally calmed down. She told me all about that asshole Mark, and I found myself feeling a strange mix of disgust and jealousy. Some of the things she told me seemed to be right out of one of her books.

“Zoe Walters banging a married man?” I said with a teasing grin, my fingers stroking her forehead. “Who’d have thought that Miss Prim and Proper would have scraped the bottom of that barrel?”

“Yeah, I turned out to be a filthy skank,” she said, her words a little slurred as she readjusted herself on the couch. She was drunk, teary eyed, but seemed to be over the worst of it. Her cocktail dress had ridden up and I couldn’t help but stare at the long legs peeking out. She had kicked off her shoes. Her toenails were bright red. She used to love it when I sucked her toes… For some reason, being this vulnerable only made her sexier.

“That’s not so bad,” I said. “I’ve done far worse on the skank meter.”

She gave me a drunken smile and tapped a finger to my chin. “Like what?”

I laughed and took a sip of the wine. She poked the finger to my nose and raised her eyebrows. “Come on, you brought it up. Revel me with stories of Chad in skank town.”

“Fine,” I said, leaning over to set the glass down on the coffee table. “When you left me, I was kind of heartbroken. Slept my way around, tried to get over you. Nothing really filled that space, though. I ended up getting involved with a woman who introduced me to the rougher sides of sex. S&M, I mean.”

Zoe’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “S&M? You? No?”

I nodded without embarrassment. It was what it was. I said, “The whole shebang. Cuffs, clamps, gags, blindfolds, bars –”

“Whips?” she asked, slurring the word.

“No whips,” I said. “Although a good open-handed spanking is not out of the realm of possibilities.”

“You pervert!” Zoe giggled.

“Coming from the girl who fucked a married man in a public bathroom.”

“Hey, we’re talking about you, not me,” she said. “I never should have told you that story.”

“Again, I’ve done far worse,” I said with a smile. “Yeah, well, the lady that introduced me to S&M was married to this tech billionaire who hired a detective and we got caught with our pants down, so to speak. I almost lost everything, and Martin saved my ass. Since then, I’ve been careful, but I do love the toys, the pleasure, the pain. It’s like an addiction.”

Zoe tapped the fingernail to my chin again. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

I wrapped my fingers around her hand and held it there. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “You were always the kind of guy who needed to be in control. Always on top, always demanding, always pulling the strings. I’m not surprised you ended up using a few toys to up the ante.”

“That’s fucking harsh,” I said, even though it was true.

“The truth can be harsh,” Zoe replied, her voice fading a bit. She leaned her head on the back of the couch and closed eyes. I loved the way her hair fell across her face and the light off her skin. Something inside me began to stir. A feeling that started as a tingle in my chest, then worked its way down to my cock. Jesus, was I getting hard? Holy fuck…

Zoe opened her eyes and gave me an odd look. “You okay?”

I forced a smile and picked up the wine glass to help hide the huge bulge in my pants. “Yes, sure, I’m fine.”

She smiled and pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing the back of her head. “Well, I need to get to bed.”

I drank the rest of my wine in one quick gulp and slapped my knees. “That’s my cue,” I said, getting up. I picked up my jacket and held it in front of me. “It’s been great seeing you again.”

She grabbed my hand as I started to walk away. The look in her eyes was familiar, but I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“Stay,” she said quietly. “Sleep here tonight.”

“On the couch?” I asked. “Or…”

She moved in close, her arms going around my waist, pressing her body to mine. My erection grew. It pushed into her stomach. She pressed her wet lips to mine. She clenched my ass in her hands and ground her pussy into me.

“In my bed,” she whispered, her breath hot in my ear. “I want you to fuck me, Chad. Like you used to.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Chad

I couldn’t fucking believe what was happening, but I didn’t hold back. I played right into it, of course. Did I expect this to happen? Well, not expected, but definitely hoped that it would. There was a part of me that was totally okay with letting the night be what it was. But this was a turn that I wasn’t going to say no to.

We somehow managed to strip off our clothes as we stumbled and fumbled our way to her bedroom. I kicked open the door with her in my arms. By the time we made it to the side of her bed, we were completely naked and there was no turning back now.

Her melon breasts were mashed against my chest, her nipples hard like little rocks, and she tasted like wine when her tongue briefly playing across my lips. The kiss was long and hungry, and even though I was holding her tight against me, I felt like she wanted to crawl in deeper. She wrapped one leg around mine, and began to slowly rub her cunt against my thigh.

I kissed her neck, her shoulders, but wasted no time going for her breasts. Her nipples stood up like saluting soldiers, and I swirled them in my lips hungrily, nibbling on them, sucking them, forcing her to moan and grind her pussy against my thigh even harder. I remembered how sensitive her nipples were, and that had not changed. I attacked them with vigor, and she clutched my head to her tighter, wanting more of the same.

I was so fucking turned on, my cock was pulsing with every kiss, every moan, every hot breath against my ear. I turned her around and pushed her forward on the bed, pressing my cock between her ass cheeks, almost losing it completely when she began grinding against me. I leaned in and squeezed one breast while I reached down with my other hand and slipped two fingers between her pussy lips. I found her clit quickly, and she began to grind even harder as I worked my magic.

Her moans grew louder, and her hand snaked behind her and around my head, pulling me to her, her fingers clenching in my hair as I worked.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop… don’t you fucking stop,” she groaned. It didn’t take long for her entire body to break into a shudder of orgasms. The juices gushed from deep within her, covering my hand, making my cock throb for the wet heat of her pussy.

“I want you so bad,” I whispered against her ear. “God, I want to fuck your tight pussy so bad…”

“I know you do,” Zoe said, turning around and planting another kiss on my lips. She reached down and cupped my tight balls with one hand and squeezed my cock with the other, pumping it slowly as she gazed deeply into my eyes. “And you will fuck me. When I’m good and ready.”

“Teasing me?” I asked, smiling even though I was frustrated that she was playing with me while my cock was on the verge of exploding in her hand.

“My house, my rules,” she said, pumping, squeezing, smiling. “You don’t get control here.”

I squinted at her, wondering what the hell she was thinking, but couldn’t hold back my smile. “It’s always been about control with you, hasn’t it?”

“It’s about sharing control,” Zoe said, dreamy eyed, her pink tongue ringing her lips. “Sometimes you’re in charge, sometimes I am. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” I said, sighing the words.

She pulled me closer, her hand squeezing my cock to the point of agony. She sat on the edge of the bed and began kissing my stomach, pumping me from base to head in one long rhythm. She ran a fingernail on the underside of my cock. She was driving me completely insane. Then she stopped and leaned back onto the bed, dragging me with her, and opened her legs. She tangled her fingers in my hair and pushed my head down, not asking for it, demanding it, and it was so hot I instantly complied. I dropped to my knees and devoured her pussy like a starving man over a bowl of the hottest sweet treat in the world.

You want to be in control, fine. But I’m going to make you scream.

And scream she did. She writhed and grinded against my mouth as my tongue played tricks with her clit, dug into her pussy, lapped at her juices. I held her ass with both hands, pushing her hips up against me, and her hands dug into my hair.

“Oh God… Chad… Oh God… Oh… God…”

She wrapped both legs around my shoulders, crushing my ears between her thighs, grinding harder and faster. She wanted more, and I gave her much more. I sucked her clit into my mouth, and with a free hand, reached up and pinched her nipple hard enough to know that it had to hurt.

“Chad… fuck… ow…ow… yes… oh… Chad…”

She stopped grinding, her entire body breaking out into violent shakes as she orgasmed, once, twice, so many times she was begging me to stop.

I looked up at her and smiled. “Sounded a lot like I was in control.”

“That’s what you think,” she said with a devilish look in her eye.

She was quick, it took me by complete surprise. One minute I was over her, ready to do everything I had been dying to do to her since the minute I saw her, and the next she had me on my back, my arms pinned at my sides, and was rubbing her dripping pussy against my cock, grinding hard and fast, her eyes locked onto mine and biting her lower lip. She was enjoying this, really enjoying it, and it just made me harder to see how much the control was turning her on.

“I’m thinking of just stopping here,” she said, rolling her hips over my cock, driving me insane. “I mean, I already got mine.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Who says we play fair?”

I laughed and grabbed her hips, trying to slow her down. I didn’t want to come before I got the chance to feel her pussy around me, but she knew that I was close, and that seemed to push her harder.

“Zoe, I’m going to… fuck… cum… if you don’t… stop that.”

She leaned down, flicked her tongue against my ear, and said, “My house… my rules.”

I gasped when she pushed herself up and slid my cock fully inside her. She was so wet, I didn’t even notice what she was doing until I was buried deep and she was clenching against me, making herself tighter and driving me fucking insane.

She began to ride me, slowly at first, clenching and relaxing, making my eyes roll back with how good it fucking felt. Then she picked up the speed.

Her beautiful breasts bounced up and down and her moans echoed across the walls. She bent down, letting me grab her breasts and suck one nipple after the other into my mouth, making her grind her hips even faster against me. It felt so fucking good, it was all I could do not to squirt too fast and ruin the whole thing. I wanted it to go on forever, and for the few the next couple of minutes, it certainly felt like that.

I reached one hand down and began playing with her clit, and she quickly grabbed my wrist and pinned my arm down again. She gazed right into my eyes as she rode me.

“Fuck… I’m close!” I panted. I was losing all control. And I fucking loved it.

She rode harder, clenched and relaxed, and as I stared back into those sapphire eyes, I felt myself explode inside her. It was like no orgasm I had ever experienced before, rocking my entire body, my head spinning with the residual shock. She came again with me, her body tense, the breath whistling from her pursed lips, her pussy squeezing my cock like a thousand little fingers. She milked me with her pussy, and my entire body shuddered.

“Shit, Zoe… What the fuck… Did you do to me?”

After a moment, Zoe gave me one last kiss and rolled off me, falling onto her back beside me on the bed. She was panting, red as a beet, sweating, and the smile on her face was like a ray of sunshine.

I watched her breasts rise and fall with every breath. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

“Wow… is that what it’s like… to lose control…” I sighed out the words. “If so… can I ride again…”

“You can ride all you want,” she said, rolling on top of me, mashing her drenched, sticky pussy against my cock. “And if you’re a very good boy, maybe I’ll let you drive.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Zoe

I woke up feeling like a million dollars. Sure, there was the hangover, something I was going to have to deal with and quickly before my entire day was ruined. But, I was relaxed. And happy. Above all, happy. And completely satisfied. Something I hadn’t felt in years, not even with Mark.

Chad was lying next to me, naked, covers thrown off to reveal his nakedness in all its splendor. His long cock was draped lazily over to the side. I smiled at myself, remembering reading about sleeping styles, and how his was a reflection of confidence. Lying on his back, arms tucked under his head, as if tempting the world to take a hit at him.

That was Chad Walters to a tee.

I resisted the urge to play with his cock and balls, though it certainly was tempting. Chad used to love it when I’d wake him up with his big cock in my mouth. Maybe later. Definitely later.

I threw the covers over him, hoping to get through the morning without being distracted by the gorgeous naked man in my bed. I couldn’t deny that I wanted more, so much more, but for now, it was all I could do to get out of bed and into the shower. My body felt like I’d just gone three rounds with Hulk Hogan. And my pussy was so sticky it squished when I walked. The sound made me giggle.

I took a long hot shower and slipped into a robe and wrapped a towel around my wet hair. Coffee, my brain screamed. Need coffee… I tiptoed out of the bathroom, pausing to look at the gorgeous, naked man in my bed. His cock was outlined beneath the sheet. He had a little morning chub going now, hard but not quite hard to full glory. Again, I resisted the urge to climb on board. There was simply too much to do.

I made my way to the kitchen, quickly popped two aspirin to quell the headache and turned on the coffee maker. The sun pierced through the twin windows, lighting up the entire living room up in a soft glow that made me feel like taking out my laptop and writing. I was one of those writers who loved to write when the muse hit, which was usually late into the night. It was odd for me to be up this early, but it also felt good, really good, and I didn’t want to waste the chance to write in the morning sun.

My cellphone began to ring, and it took me a while to find it tucked between the couch cushions. I felt my heart sink when I realized what time it was, and that Graham had called me six times already.

That can’t be good.

“Hi, Graham?” I answered, heading back to the kitchen to get my coffee. “What’s up.”

“We have a small problem,” Graham said quietly, though I could sense the tension in his tone.

I frowned. No good morning. No how are you. Just straight to business. And from what I knew about Graham, straight to business usually meant that the small problem he was referring to was not a small problem at all.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, hoping that the Costa Rica trip hadn’t been cancelled.

“How long will it take you to get over here?” Graham asked.

I felt a cold sweat wash over me. This was not good.

“I can get dressed and come right over,” I said, forgetting about my coffee and heading back to the bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll talk when you get here.”

He hung up before I could respond. Little alarm bells started ringing in my head. Graham was usually cool as a cucumber. I couldn’t help but think the worst. What could have happened that had Graham rattled so?

I quietly went into my walk-in closet and pulled on a pair of jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt. Chad stirred as I left the room, but when I looked over, he was still asleep. I didn’t have time to wake him up and explain where I was going, so I quickly grabbed a pen and paper and left him a note.

I was out of the door and headed uptown in less than ten minutes.

* * *

Graham’s secretary, Becky, was waiting for me in the lobby at Roland House Publishing. She ignored my questions and took my hand and practically pulled me past the security desk toward the elevators. I couldn’t help but notice that everyone in the lobby stared at us, some whispering, others just gawking. I wondered what the hell was going on.

“He’s waiting for you,” Becky said as we stepped from the elevator onto the sixth floor where Graham’s office was on executive row. She pushed me along and I had to skip to keep up with her haste. As soon as I was inside Graham’s office, she closed the door behind me.

Graham was sitting at his desk, looking at his laptop with a frown, his hands clenched under his chin.

“What the hell’s going on?” I asked, walking to his desk with my hands out, more than a little agitated. “Becky practically dragged me into the building and threw me into the elevator. Is the world coming to an end and nobody’s bothered to tell me?”

“You’re closer than you think,” Graham replied, turning his laptop so I could see the screen. He clicked on a YouTube video and adjusted the volume. My eyes shot went wide even before my brain told them to.

There was Chad in the middle of Vittorio’s, hovering over Mark, screaming at the maître d’ and waiters who were trying to stop him. Behind him, I saw myself racing out of the restaurant. The title of the video was, “Dirty Book Writer’s Dream Date Beats Down Innocent Dinner Guest”.

On the sidebar of similar videos were even more of the same, taken by other patrons from different angles. My name, along with Chad’s, was listed in the title of several of them.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled, sitting down heavily in one of the twin chairs placed in front of Graham’s desk. The video was on a loop, and I watched everything happen three times before looking away. I closed my eyes and let my head sink in my hands, suddenly understanding why everyone had been staring at me in the lobby.

“Graham, I’m so sorry,” I started, but he stopped me with his hand in the air between us.

“Your private life is none of my business,” Graham said formally, his voice far from the friendly, I’m-here-for-you attitude I had always gotten. “But when your private life becomes public, well, you become a reflection of this company, and right now, we look like shit.”

“I was having dinner with a friend and Mark –”

“With Chad Walters,” Graham cut in.

I nodded. “Yes, with Chad Walters. Mark just walked up and started making a scene. He was drunk and—”

“Making a scene? Whatever Mark was doing, it was definitely not making a scene. This…” Graham said, pointing at the video, “this is making a scene.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen,” I said, weakly. “Mark kept pushing, saying awful things, Chad was simply protecting my honor.”

“That’ not good enough, Zoe.” Graham shook his head in frustration. “I can’t sell an excuse like that.”

“Sell it to who?”

“The publisher,” he said, hands in the air. “The big guy at the end of the hall who has to okay everything we do.”

I blinked at him with tears in my eyes. “You mean like the Costa Rica trip.”

“Yes. The Costa Rica trip. The contract for your next book. Whether or not to keep you under contract.”

“You’re saying…”

“I’m saying it could all go away,” he said with a heavy sigh. He shook his head at me as if I were a petulant child.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. I put my hands in my lap and kneaded my fingers together. “What can I do to fix this? What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re not purposefully trying to fuck up your life and career for starters,” Graham said, his tone walking the line between anger and frustration. “Jesus, Zoe, do you now realize how many people are affected by your actions? How could you be so fucking careless?”

“I was having dinner,” I said, wanting to yell but knowing it wouldn’t help. I was taken aback by his reaction, shocked, frowning in disbelief at his sudden outburst. Never in all the years I had known him had he spoken to me in such a way. If I hadn’t known he was gay I would have sworn that he was jealous.

“You’ve put me in a very difficult position,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. He took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly. It seemed to drain the anger from his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to explode at you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I said, feeling lousy for putting him in the position of having to defend me to the publisher. “Honestly, I had no idea that was going to happen.”

“I know,” Graham sighed, ruffling his hair and leaning back in the chair to give me an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry,” he said, pursing his lips. “Who you see is none of my business. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

“Is this about Chad Walters,” I asked. “Are you upset that I went to dinner with him?”

“You’ve told me about him in the past,” Graham said with a shrug. “You just get out of this mess with Mark, then this guy shows up and all hell breaks loose. I just want what’s best for you, Zoe, and I don’t either of these assholes will do. You’re a great writer, but your taste in men is absolute crap.”

“That’s… sweet,” I said with a smile. “I guess. So, what happens now?”

“Now, we do damage control,” Graham said, blowing out his cheeks and leaning forward. “I know you were innocent in this mess, but you know this business. It’s all about public perception. I’ll meet with the PR folks and figure out the best spin. In the meantime, please, keep a low profile.” He saved a dismissive hand at the laptop. “And stay away from both of these assholes. They’re nothing but trouble and you know it.”

I would have no problem staying away from Mark. Chad, on the other hand, well, that might be an issue since I left him naked and hard in my bed.

“There is more bad news,” he said.

My eyebrows arched. “More? What could be worse than that?”

“I got a call from Mark this morning, just letting me know that he was filing suit against Chad Walters and you’d probably be named, as well.”

“What?” I gawked at him. “What did I do?”

“I think the term Mark used was ‘incitement’ or something to that effect.” Graham shook his head and gave me a tired look. “Basically, it means you incited Chad Walters to smash his face into the table. You started it and incited Chad to finish it.”

“That’s total bullshit,” I said. “I did no such thing. What the fuck, are we in high school here?”

“Mark also said that I, meaning Roland House, should stay out of it or he will find a new publisher.” He shook his head and held out his hands. “Like it or not, Mark’s spy books make this company a lot of money, so…”

“So, you need to stay out of it, I understand,” I said. I gritted my teeth and fought back the tears. “That son of a bitch. He told me he wasn’t finished with me. He said it would never be over until he said it was.”

Graham gave me a slow nod. “He’s not going anywhere because his contract is iron-clad,” he said. “But he can make things harder for you.”

“He can go fuck himself!” I said. “I’m not afraid of Mark. You can just roll over and play dead, but I’ll be damned if I will.”

Graham frowned at me. “Do you think I’m not taking your side?” he asked. “I know how much of an asshole Mark can be. But he’s a major asset to this company, and I’m outvoted here. Just lay low for a bit and—”

“I’m not going to be treated like a second-hand writer just because Mark sells more books,” I said. “I’ve earned Roland House a lot of money, and I’m not going to be shit on because of that son of a bitch.”

“I’m trying to help you here,” Graham said desperately.

“No, you’re not,” Zoe said. “You’re covering the company’s ass.”

“That’s not true.”

I knew my temper was getting the better of me, but I seemed to have lost the ability to keep my mouth shut. I gritted my teeth and wagged a finger at him. “Graham, you’ve always been a friend to me, and I can’t hide the fact that what happened last night is not going to wash over easily.” I paused, taking in a deep breath. “But I’m not going to keep getting walked over just because everyone thinks I’m some airhead who writes porn.”

“What?” He huffed at me. “Who said anything like that?”

I thought about it. “Well, fuck, Graham.” I plucked several tissues from a box on the desk and dried my eyes. “I’m sorry. Fuck. And it started out such a good day.”

Graham softened his tone. “Look, just keep your distance from Mark and Chad Walters, at least for the time being. Just give me time to work this out.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a shuddering breath. “I won’t see Mark or Chad again.” I smiled and he seemed satisfied with the lie. I took a moment to compose myself, pecked him on the cheek, then headed home, wondering if Chad would still be there.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Chad

 

“Chad? Chad, wake up.”

I woke up with a groan to the sound of Zoe’s voice. I stretched out my arms and legs and looked up at Zoe through sleepy eyes. I smacked my lips and smiled back at her.

“Morning,” I said, my voice hoarse. There was a drum beating in my head that made me wince. “What did you do to me last night? I think I’m going to need a pot coffee before I’m good for anything.”

“There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen,” Zoe said. It was then that I noticed she was fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Where are you off to so early in the morning?” I asked, reaching for her.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” she said, pulling away. “I’ve been out to a meeting with my publisher. Just got back.”

I felt a pulsing between my legs and looked down at my morning wood pupping like a tent under the sheet. I kicked off the sheet and took my cock in my hand and gave it a good morning squeeze. I wiggled my eyebrows at Zoe and smiled. “Looks like I’m not the only one happy to see you. Why don’t you get undressed and climb on board?”

Her smile faltered. Her expression told me something was wrong. Oh fuck, here we go again. I was about to get kicked out of her life all over again.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, suddenly shy, pulling the sheet back over my withering cock.

“I’ll pour us coffee in the kitchen.” She got off the bed and moved to the door. “Get dress and come out. We need to talk.”

I frowned. I hated those words. Nothing good ever came after those four words. Not to mention the way she said it sounded extremely familiar, and I could see from the way she nervously played with her hands that needing to talk was going to ruin my day. I sighed and sat up in bed, my hard-on now a distant memory.

“What is it? Just tell me”

She shook her head and stood up. “Get dressed,” she said. “I can’t take you seriously like that.”

I didn’t want to be taken fucking seriously. I wanted answers, and at the same time I didn’t want a replay of what had happened years ago. Last night had been incredible. I had never experienced anything like it after she had left me, and I wanted more. A part of me believed there could be more, and just thinking about what she wanted to talk about me left me frustrated.

I took my time, showered for longer than I needed, and tried to cool off. This was a conversation I didn’t want to have. Not now. Especially not after last night.

I found her in the living room, drinking her own mug of coffee and gesturing to mine at the kitchen counter. I took a sip, then a longer one, and silently wished my headache away. I wanted to be clear for this. I sat down on the couch opposite her, already anticipating what was coming.

“Is this the part where you tell me what an awful mistake last night was?” I asked, setting my mug down and looking her in the eye.

She looked away. “Stop that.”

“No, really, because if it is, then I’ve heard it all before,” I said, feeling the anger rising inside me before I could hold it back. “I have to admit, though, it’s a lot quicker this time around. Just one night. Not bad.”

“Chad, that’s not what this is.”

“Then what is this?”

She put her mug down next to mine and bit her lower lip, a sure sign that she had no idea how to tell me whatever it was she wanted to tell me. “I got some news this morning,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “Not very good news. Horrible news, actually.”

I waited, a part of me already scoffing at whatever excuse she was going to throw at me this time. I suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Stupid for letting my guard down. Stupid for thinking this might have gone somewhere, that we could have picked up where we last left of. Stupid for even trying to rehash the past.

You should have just stuck with the easy lays, man.

“Your fight with Mark… It’s all over the internet,” she said.

“It wasn’t really a fight,” I said smartly. “It was more of his face hitting a table.”

“Please, this isn’t funny,” she said. “My publisher called me in this morning. Mark is also their author. He makes them a lot of money. There could be complications.”

I frowned. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about what happened last night going viral, but I wasn’t the first person to get into a fight in public and have his face all over the internet. I patted my pants for my phone, knowing that Martin had probably already worked up a shit storm and was ready to bombard me with a load of crap I didn’t want to deal with. Besides, no publicity is bad publicity. Wasn’t that the saying?

“Mark’s trying to press his weight with the publishers,” Zoe continued. “He may try to get them to break my contract.”

“That’s bullshit,” I replied, clenching my fists. I was already imagining that bastard’s face in front of me. “They can’t do that anyway. You can sue them. Surely you have a contract.”

Zoe shook her head. “They won’t do break my contract,” she said. “But they are insisting that I stay out of whatever Mark throws at you.”

“Me?” I blinked at her. “What could the fucker to do me?”

She glanced up at me, and for a split second, I thought I could see tears in her eyes. They were gone just as fast when she turned away and reached for her mug again.

“Mark’s suing you, Chad,” Zoe said. “And he’s threatening to sue me, too. The publishers can convince Mark to leave me out of it, as long as I steer away from the spotlight on the lawsuit.”

“What?” I barked, confused as hell. Too much information in one sentence, and my headache wasn’t helping. I glanced at my voicemail. There were a dozen calls from Martin. Bad publicity was one thing, but a lawsuit? That could ruin everything. It was definitely going to screw up any plans of opening in New York. I didn’t even register the rest of what she said.

“That son of a bitch,” I hissed. I let my eyes come up to hers. “So, what does this mean for us? You and me?”

Zoe took a sip from her coffee and gave me a pitiful look. “I’m sorry, Chad, I just can’t do this. Not now. Not with a new book coming up. I have to be on Costa Rica in a week, and if Mark plays dirty, the publisher might just ground me to pacify him.”

“To pacify him?” I asked, looking at her as if she were crazy. “What about you? I thought you were a big shot author? How about pacifying you?”

“Mark isn’t small league, Chad,” Zoe said. “Besides, I don’t want to go head to head with him on this. The more he pushes, the dirtier it will get. I don’t want to go through all that.”

“So, you’re going to let him just walk all over you and force you to push me away?”

Her head snapped up, and she looked at me with eyes that shot daggers. I didn’t give two shits about making her mad. I was equally pissed off, and didn’t really care if I hurt her feelings or not. This whole thing was fucking ridiculous. I suddenly regretted ever coming to New York City.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this,” Zoe said.

“Since when? This morning?” I asked, scoffing. “Looks like you made up your mind pretty fucking quick.”

“That’s not fair,” Zoe said. “You can’t expect me to just throw away everything I’ve worked for all these years just to be with you.”

“Just to be with me?”

“Well, I mean— “

I held up a hand to stop her right there. “You know, I thought this time things could have been different, but I was obviously either too naïve or too fucking stupid to realize that I was just banking on a stupid dream. But you know what? You’re right. You have worked too hard to throw everything away just to be with me.”

“Chad.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said, pushing off the sofa to make my way to the door. “Have fun in Costa fucking Rica, Zoe. Great to see you, as always.”

She followed me to the door. “Chad, seriously, it doesn’t have to end like this.”

I turned around and shot her an angry glare that made her stop in her tracks. “End like this?” I asked. “Honey, you can’t end what never started. We fucked, that was it. I’m seeing it all clearly now. Thank you for opening my eyes. Next time I need a reality check, I’ll be sure to call Zoe Maxwell. Or just pick up your fucking book and read for myself how our story ends.”

I stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

I didn’t ever expect to see Zoe Maxwell again.

* * *

“You really fucked up this time, man.”

I was in the back of a taxi on the way to the hotel. My phone was to my ear, and Martin was screaming at me. I didn’t hear half the things he said, every second word either ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’, his voice coming through as static with every shout. At one point, I had to hold the phone away just so I could hear him properly.

“What the hell were you thinking? Are you fucking insane? You just threw the shit we’ve been fucking working on for years away, and for what, some girl?”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “How bad is it?” I asked.

“How bad is it!” Martin huffed. “How fucking bad do you fucking think it is?”

“Martin. Calm the fuck down and just tell me. How bad?”

“Very bad!” Martin yelled. “Colossal! So bad we might as well kiss Body by Chad New York City goodbye!”

“It’s a lawsuit, not the death sentence,” I said, trying to act calm when I was anything but. I kept imagining that Mark guy in front of me as I pounded the living hell out of him.

“It might as well be!” Martin shot back. “The guy’s suing for millions, man! And he’s fucking quick, too. You beat the shit out of a lawyer, a well-connected New York lawyer! He’s coming for us like a bat out of hell, man! This is fucking bad!”

“Can we settle?” I asked.

“Are you drunk? Did you not hear a word I just said? This isn’t about money, dude. He’s already rich. This is about revenge!”

“Can you calm down, or am I going to have to punch you to your senses?”

“Fuck you, Chad!” Martin said. His voice seethed in my ear. “I worked my ass off to get us where we are, and you threw it all away just because you couldn’t control your temper!”

“Hey, you weren’t there. The guy was being a dick.”

“I didn’t have to be there to know that it could have been handled better than breaking his nose!”

I shrugged, not really believing that. To me, the guy got less than he deserved. If I had been just a little less aware, if I hadn’t been preoccupied with chasing after Zoe, I probably would have broken more than just his nose. Probably should have, too.

“Get your ass to the hotel,” Martin finally said, sounding a bit calmer but still angry as hell. “We have a meeting with our lawyers to figure out how we’re going to fucking handle this.”

I didn’t want to meet with any lawyer. Right now, my mid was spinning. I was angry, pissed off that everyone was pissed off at me. A part of it was the lawsuit, but most of my anger was targeted towards Zoe. I couldn’t believe I was reliving it all over again. I wanted to turn around, go back to her apartment and continue fighting. I wanted to shout, blame her for everything that was happening, say things that would make her feel like shit. Make her feel the way I did right now. Then I wanted to take her into my arms and tell her it was all going to be okay.

“Fine, I’m on my way,” I said through clenched teeth. But Martin had already hung up.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Zoe

“You bastard.”

Mark’s face filled the entirety of my television screen. He was talking to the press, his nose covered in bandages, giving his fictitious accounting of the events of last night. He made it seem like he had been attacked out of the blue, that he had just been saying hello to a fellow writer and that Chad was some mentally unstable boyfriend. He was playing for the cameras, and doing such a good job of it that it made me sick.

“Damn it,” I sighed, wiping another tear from my cheek.

Ever since Chad had walked out, I had been trying to stop the waterworks. It took every bit of willpower, and then some, to not break down. I had turned on the TV, and when I saw Mark’s face on TMZ, I concentrated my anger towards him. It was the best thing I could do, because just thinking about how Chad had left, about how I had let him go again made me hate myself more than I hated Mark.

I regretted everything then.

I regretted ever having started up an affair with Mark, a married man who was more in love with himself than anyone else.

I regretted letting that bastard into my life, into my bed, between my legs.

I regretted talking myself into believing that Graham’s advice was the right thing to do. Push Chad away. Keep your head down. Lay low for a while.

I regretted it all.

And I blamed it on Mark. With every ounce of being inside me. I detested the smug bastard. I was glad Chad had slammed his face into that table. My final regret was that I had not had the guts to do so myself.

My cellphone rang. I sniffed and wiped another stray tear away, bracing myself when I saw Graham’s name on the screen. I tried to compose myself as much as possible, then answered, knowing he would probably see through my guise anyway.

“Are you near a TV?” Graham asked as soon as I answered.

“I’m watching him now,” I replied. “None of what he’s saying is true. He’s downplaying how much of an asshole he was.”

“Of course, he is,” Graham said. “He’s a lawyer, and he’s suing your boyfriend. Of course, he’s going to play dirty.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I choked.

There was silence on the other line.

“Graham?”

“You know, Zoe, I’ll always have your back, right?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I met with the publisher this morning and made sure nothing changes in the way we treat you,” Graham said. “You’re just as valuable as Mark. Even more.”

“Thank you, Graham,” I replied. “I took your advice. I told Chad we couldn’t pursue anything. He’s leaving town.”

“Staying out of the spotlight is key, Zoe,” Graham said. “You don’t want your name tarnished in any way.”

“Sure,” I replied, focusing my emotions on the anger I felt for the bastard on TV.

“But you know, there’s a lot one can do even when they’re not in the spotlight.”

I frowned, looking away from the screen. “What do you mean?”

Graham chuckled. “You’re a smart girl,” he said. “Watch the TV. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

He hung up, and I stared at the phone for a few seconds before setting it on the couch beside me. What the hell did he mean? I thought he didn’t want me to get involved? And how the hell was I supposed to stay away from all this, but not at the same time? Nothing he said made any sense.

I turned back to the TV and turned up the volume. Mark had stepped aside, letting his wife talk to the cameras. I couldn’t believe he would stoop this low and bring his wife into it, but looking at her, those beautiful eyes, that innocent face, I realized that it was probably one of the best strategies he could use. The public was going to fall in love with her, and that would be it for Chad. The wife who demanded justice for her battered husband. The final nail in Chad Walters’ coffin.

My hands suddenly stopped shaking, and Graham’s words swirled in my head.

Of course.

How could I have been so stupid?

The solution to all our problems was on the TV screen, literally staring me in the face.

* * *

“What the fuck do you want?”

I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth and held my anger back. Hearing Mark’s voice over the phone only added to the anger I was feeling, and I had to control my temper if I wanted to do this right.

“I saw your little press performance,” I said. “I’m impressed.”

“Like I give a crap,” Mark shot back. “Your boyfriend’s going to file for bankruptcy by the time I’m through with him. Body by Chad will be Body by Mark. Just you wait and see.”

I actually smiled, picturing Mark standing next to Chad with their shirts off. There was no comparison.

“I’m going to need you to drop those charges, Mark,” I said. “By the end of the day.”

Mark laughed in my ear. “That’s fucking hilarious,” he said. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” I replied. “Deadly serious. Serious as a heart attack, in fact.”

“And why the hell would I do that?” he asked. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. Because you have a thing for the guy and he won’t fuck you while he’s being sued by your ex?”

“Are you my ex, Mark?” I asked.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Of course I’m your ex, you dumb fucking cunt. You think I’m going to start fucking you again now and let this prick off the hook? Forget it. You were replaced ten minutes after I wiped the stink of your pussy off my dick the last time.”

“What happened to the forgiving man you were speaking of the other night?”

“That was before your Neanderthal fuck buddy slammed my face in a table and broke my nose.”

“Your nose? Or your pride?”

Mark took in a deep breath. I could almost hear his blood boiling. “Fuck you, Zoe, and don’t you ever fucking call me again?”

He was about to hang up when I said, “Then maybe I should talk to your wife.”

Silence. I got you now, you son of a bitch.

“What was her name? Deborah? Barbara? I can’t remember, I confuse her with all the other women you’ve cheated on her with.”

“Watch it, Zoe, or I’ll come after you, too,” Mark hissed, but I could tell I’d struck a nerve. You want to beat a cocksucker like Mark at his own game, hit him in the wallet. His wife would get half of everything if she divorced him. We both knew it.

“I’m not afraid of you, Mark,” I said. “If you don’t want your wife to find out about me, about us, you will drop this stupid law suit and crawl back into your fucking cave.”

Mark laughed, but it wasn’t genuine. “You have no proof. It would be your word against mine. And trust me, she’ll believe me. I can tell her the sky is red and she wouldn’t argue.”

“I think you’re underestimating her,” I replied. “But I have a feeling your wife won’t care that much about our affair because she’ll be having a field day in your bank account.”

A longer silence. I had him in the palm of my hands.

“I can always tell her about the nights we spent together, the bathroom fucks, the time at the park?” I continued. “I wonder what she’d say to that.”

“You can’t prove anything, you dirty bitch!”

I kept pushing. “Your wife seems like a sweet woman. Certainly, too good for a piece of shit like you. Maybe she just needs a little nudge in the right direction.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled. “You have a reputation to protect, too.”

“I could give two shits about my reputation,” I said, feeling totally in control with him for the first time. “And I do have proof.”

“What proof…”

“Oh, let’s see… that tiny mole right above the thing you call a cock? I wonder how you’re going to explain how I know about that. Or the birth mark just under your right ass cheek. Or the pictures of you and me in Vegas, time stamped for when you were supposed to be in Spain? Oh, and did I mention that I’ve been recording this call? Imagine how your wife will react when she hears you bragging about wiping the stink of my pussy off your cock and moving on to my replacement.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Mark almost yelled, miraculously keeping his voice down even though I knew I had him by the balls.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “But you are going to drop the charges, or so help me God, little Miss Sunshine is going to get a visit from me. She’ll have more than enough dirt to file for a divorce and take half of everything you’ve got.”

Silence.

“Drop the charges, Mark. Or I’ll come for you. And I’ll burn down your entire fucking life.”

I didn’t wait for an answer.

I didn’t have to.

Zoe Maxwell was in control.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Chad

“He’s dropping the lawsuit?” I frowned across the table at Martin, who had just gotten off the phone with my attorney. “Why the hell would he do that?”

Martin shrugged as he tucked his phone into his jacket. “His attorney said his client did not want the humiliation of a public trial,” Martin said, picking up his martini glass and holding it out for me to toast. I tapped the lip of the beer bottle to his glass.

“That makes no sense,” I said with the bottle to my lips.

“Don’t overthink it,” Martin said, licking gin from his lips. “The good news is, we can put this all behind us and get back on track with Body by Chad New York City.”

“Yeah, about that…” I reached into the computer bag at my feet and brought up a legal document I’d had my attorney draft without Martin’s knowledge. He narrowed his eyes at the document, recognizing it to be a legal document by the blue binder.

“What’s that?” he asked, the martini glass hovering at his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said when the shit hit the fan the other day,” I said, giving him a serious look. “About how hard you’ve worked to help me build the business.” I slid the document toward him. “I just wanted you to know that I understand how hard you’ve worked and it has not gone unnoticed.”

“What is this?” he asked, taking a gulp of his drink before opening the folder. I watched him, drink in my hand, smiling as his eyes grew wide. He continued reading for a few seconds, flipping between pages, then looked up at me like a child opening his first gift on Christmas morning.

“Is this a joke?” he asked. “You’re making me a partner in the business. Jesus, Chad, thirty percent? Holy fuck…”

“It’s no joke,” I said. “You’ve had my back since the beginning, and I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m still in control, but we both know who really runs things.”

“This is too much, though,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you sick or something? Are you dying?”

“I’m not dying.”

“You’re clearly dying.”

“Martin,” I said, leaning in with a smile. “Sign the goddamn papers.”

Martin took a pen from his jacket and signed the document, then slid it back across the table to me. I tucked the document back into the computer back and held up my bottle. “Here’s to the future.”

“To the future,” Martin said. “And beyond.”

* * *

We finished our drinks and were walking out of the hotel bar when my cellphone rang. I pulled the phone from my jacket and frowned at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number, but very few people knew my cell, so I assumed it was a call I should take.

“Who’s that?” Martin asked.

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “You go on upstairs. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay, see you later,” he said. “And Chad… thanks.”

I smiled and brought the phone to my ear. “This is Chad.”

“Mr. Walters, my name is Graham Elliot. I work at Roland House Publishing.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to set up a time to chat with you about possibly doing a series of fitness books for us,” he said. “And I have a message for you from our mutual friend, Zoe Maxwell.”

I frowned at the sound of her name. It had been two days since I’d seen Zoe and two seconds since I’d last thought of her. I braced myself for whatever was coming. “What about Zoe Maxwell?”

“Mr. Walters, are you familiar with Costa Rica?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Zoe

The sound of the waves made my mind drift, and I pushed back in my chair and closed my laptop. The sun beat down on my face and I closed my eyes, taking in the cool breeze and the smell of salt water in the air.

The distant sound of children playing mixed with the soft music coming from a radio on the beach, and the mix of sensations made me feel like I had finally found a small part of Heaven where I could probably live out the rest of my life.

Research for the new series was going great. For the past week, I had probably put in more writing than I had done in months while back at the city. I had no idea if this was what the publisher expected or not, but I was sure Roland House would be happy with the outcome. The cost of sending me to Costa Rica would be money well-spent if it meant I churned out an entire series of bestsellers set here in the islands.

I loved it here.

I might never go back to the NYC.

Graham had called that morning, and for the first ever, I lied to him about my progress. I made it sound like I had only finished half of what I had really done. He could probably tell that I didn’t want to go home. I felt I could maybe finish the outline for a second book while here, if I could maintain my momentum. And if not, who cared. No one was rushing me, and I was happy to soak in the beauty that I found myself in. If Roland House tired of paying the bills, I’d happily take them over myself.

A pair of warm lips pressed against the back of my left shoulder blade, and a strong hand that I had come to love ran down my arm. Goose bumps broke out across my skin, and I shuddered when the kisses continued along my back to my other shoulder blade. I sighed as my bikini bottoms grew wet and warm.

“I love how you can just make me gush by touching me,” I whispered.

“I have the magic touch,” Chad said, coming around to plant a soft kiss on my lips. He wiggled his fingers at me. “These are yours anytime you need them, to be placed or inserted anywhere you like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied. “I’m so glad you caught me at the airport.”

“I’m so glad your pal Graham told me where to find you,” he said with a grin. He put his hands behind his head and tilted his brown face toward the sun. “This beats the fuck out of New York City.”

I gave him a smile and a soft sigh. I was glad Graham had told him where I was, too. I was totally shocked when Chad had caught up with me at the airport, ready to board, completely oblivious that he was standing in line right behind me. I had almost lost my shit when he tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see him smiling at me, holding up a ticket to Costa Rica. Honestly, Chad was a major part of the reason why I didn’t want to return to New York, but also part of the reason I’d happily return.

“In fact, my magic fingers are not busy at the moment,” Chad said, leaning in for a kiss. His tongue slid between my lips. I moaned into his mouth. “Shall we go back to our room for a little afternoon delight?”

“I need to write,” I said, knowing my weak argument would not put him off for long.

“Come up to the room and let me give you something to write about,” he said. He leaned in closer and kissed my nick. His strong hands moved to my thighs. He pushed them apart and started inching his fingertips toward the soaking crotch of my bikini bottoms. I felt the breath catch in my throat.

“Chad, stop it,” I giggled, clenching my legs together to trap his hands. “We’re in public.”

I pulled the laptop onto my lap and spread my legs enough for his fingers to slid past the strap of bikini and into my pussy. He started fingering me right there on the beach, with dozens of people around.

“You… have to… stop…” I said, eyes closed, breath heavy.

“Then come to the room with me,” he said, his tongue in my ear.

“Fine…” I said as his finger slid in fully to the knuckle and began swirling around, then slowly in and out. “Just let me… finish writing… this scene… in my… head…”

EPILOGUE: Zoe

My bikini came off the minute we were through the hotel room door. Chad pressed his mouth to mine as he slid his swimsuit down his muscular legs. His cock was hard, had been hard from all the way down in the lobby where I could feel it pressed against my ass as we walked. I grabbed his cock and began pumping him, hard and quick, while his hands explored every inch of my sweat-soaked, tanned body.

“Chad!” I screamed when he picked me up and threw me onto the bed. I laughed and tried to roll away, but he grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me to him.

“Stop, wait, stop!” I giggled, but my laughter quickly turned to moans when his mouth found its way to my pussy and his tongue slid inside me. My toes curled, and my fingers immediately clutched his hair, pushing him down, begging for him to drive his tongue deeper inside me.

“Just like that,” I moaned, feeling his tongue sliding expertly between my pussy lips until it was flicking against my clit, driving me crazy. I pushed my hips up against his face, and began grinding against him, willing him to work faster, to press his tongue against me harder, faster, deeper.

My body rocked with what I knew was only going to be the first of many orgasms. He crawled up over me, his smile wide and his eyes gazing into mine hungrily.

“Put that in your book,” he said with a wicked smile.

I pulled him close, reached down and grabbed his cock. “I need more material, Mr. Walters.”

“My pleasure,” he groaned.

I screamed when he pushed his thick cock inside me, surprised by how hard he had taken to the request. I felt my hole stretching around him, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper.

He fucked me like a bucking bronco, sucking on my nipples, squeezing my breasts, groaning like an animal. The bed springs squeaked with the effort, but the sounds were muffled by my screams and his grunts. His pelvis rubbed against my clit with every thrust, and one orgasm after the other shook through me.

“Fuck, Zoe… I’m going… to cum.”

I wrapped my legs tighter around him, forcing him in deeper, and arched my back to push my pussy against him. I watched his eyes roll back, and increased my speed when I felt his muscles flex and go hard. He exploded inside me, filling me up, his juices mixing with mine, and I kept going. I clenched my muscles, squeezing him, and he shuddered as if he were having a seizure before collapsing on top of me, gasping for air.

I ran my hands down his back, letting my legs drop as he rolled off me. “God… I fucking love… Costa Rica.”

I glanced over at him and smiled. “Just Costa Rica?”

Chad smiled and held out his hand. “Costa Rica… and you.”

BONUS : DELETED SCENE 1

ZOE

My mind was anywhere but on writing when Chad showed up at my door after midnight with the look of lust in his dark eyes. I told him to come inside and quietly closed the door, not wanting to disturb the old woman who lived across the hall and considered herself the moral compass of the twelfth floor.

I ushered Chad into the kitchen. He slid onto a stool at the island. I got him a cold beer from the fridge and set it on the counter in front of him. Christ, just having him in the room was enough to get my juices flowing.

“How goes the writing?” he asked with the bottle at his lips. “Are you into the fuck scene yet?”

His voice rolled through me like quiet thunder, awakening every nerve ending in my body. He was the only man I’d ever known with the power to make me cum with the sound of his voice. It had been so long since I’d had sex, and I was way out of practice, but even now my clit trembled and my pussy throbbed with the need to be filled by him. I pressed my thighs together, trying to create a bit of friction on my clit, anything to take away the burning agony his voice always created.

“The fuck scene?” I asked with a smile. “Is that all you think I write? Fuck scenes?” My voice sounded shaky, trembling. Even I could hear the want and need in my tone. I wanted to shout, “Yes, take me. Yes, fuck me. Yes, make me come. Yes, make me yours.” I pressed my lips together.

“That’s what I imagine you writing,” he said with a sly grin, the bottle frozen at his lips. Our eyes locked and that’s all there was to say. He slid off the stool and came around the island toward me, his lean body moving with grace, the muscles beneath his black T-shirt flexing, creating sensuous bulges beneath the fabric. I wanted to rip the shirt from his body and run my tongue over every inch of that tanned, ripped skin. I wanted to drop to my knees, yank down those jeans, and take that long, thick cock into my mouth and—

“What are you doing…”

I gasped, my words cut off when he wedged his hand between my legs.

“I’m just doing what you want me to do.” Chad’s voice ghosted over my ear as he leaned in to me. The heat of his hand nearly melted the fabric of the thin pajamas I wore. The soft satin of my panties gliding against my clit sent delicious shivers down my spine.

“You feel wet, ready. Your panties are damp, and I can smell you, Zoe.” He inhaled deeply. “You’ve always smelled sexy, ripe, creamy, like the most luscious pie.”

I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. His voice, his words had always been my weakness. He controlled me with them like a mystic. My hand trailed slowly over my breast and stomach to the waistline of my pajamas. I dipped my hand inside, my fingertip teasing my clit before sliding down to my pussy. I pressed the tip inside, and my legs nearly buckled at the intense jolt that gripped my pussy.

“You’re right,” I let the word tremble on my lips. “It does feel creamy… Would you like a taste?”

I pulled out my glistening finger and held it up for inspection. His lips wrapped around my finger, and then he sucked it deep into his mouth, making sounds of pleasure.

When he looked up at me, his intense dark eyes filled with such hunger, I suddenly felt famished, parched, almost dead from lack of want and need. I realized I hadn’t been living for the last twelve years. I had simply existed in a place without him.

“I want more than a taste,” Chad murmured.

All the saliva dried in my mouth as I waited with bated breath.

“I want to eat you alive.”

BONUS : DELETED SCENE 2

CHAD

When Zoe’s legs gave out, I caught her around the waist and lifted her onto the counter. I couldn’t wait another moment. The scent of her had roused my cock, and it lunged hard and thick and throbbing, scraping painfully against the fabric of my jeans. My balls were aching with the need to fuck the beautiful woman before me, to plunge my cock deep into the moist heat of her pussy and fill her to the brim with my cum.

I ripped off her pajama pants, along with the panties beneath, and tossed them behind me then pushed her down. I hooked my arms beneath her knees and lifted her hips toward my mouth.

Pressing my face into the juncture of her thighs, I breathed in the soft scent of vanilla body wash, letting the neatly trimmed golden curls tickle against my face. I wanted my dick in her pussy. I wanted to feel her clit harden beneath my tongue. I wanted to explore her flesh. I wanted to spill my cum deep inside her cunt, between her tits, into her mouth, but even more than that, I wanted to remember the Zoe of my past, the girl who had stolen my heart and selfishly kept it locked within her greedy fist, even as I walked away to begin a different life. A life without her.

I sucked her swollen clit hard, rhythmically, feeling it vibrate beneath my lips. I speared my tongue between her lush pussy lips, licking the juices and then trailing kisses from her slit to her clit and down to her ass. Her flesh was hot beneath my lips, wet and pulsing, juicy and quivering, and she smelled so fucking great I could have eaten her all day, but we had a score to settle.

I gave her clit another suck and lapped at her pussy one more time, then I skirted around her cunt with tiny nips and pecks, teasing her because I refused to make her come until she begged to be mine.

“Oh God, Chad…” Her breath hissed out of her in a soft sigh. “I could come just from your breath against my skin.”

“So sweet…” I murmured.

Her head fell back, and her hips bucked up as she tried to rub her clit against my mouth again. The bulge in my jeans grew harder, tighter and more painful against the zipper. A smear of precum had dampened the fabric.

I lowered her back and unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. My cock sprang out fast, thick, rigid, bouncing back against my stomach and swaying with need.

“See what you do to me,” I said. “How hard you make me, Zoe, how much I need to come?”

“Yes.” Her eyes locked on my dick, and she licked her lips. “We can both cum. Fuck me, Chad. Make me cum with you,” she demanded. “I need to cum...”

Her fingers went to her exposed pussy. She began to rub frantically, eagerly, creating friction against the dewy pink nub of her clit. Her pussy glistened with the juices of her need, and she slipped one finger inside her cunt while her other hand continued to rub furiously.

“No.” I took both hands and lifted them to her stomach. She writhed in desire, her hips rising as she searched for relief. “Let me.”

She yanked off the pajama top, exposing her tits to my hungry gaze. Large tits, perfect areolas, tipped by rosy peaks and nipples that looked like strawberry candies. She trailed her hands up her stomach and circled each nipple. The buds, already flushed and perked, hardened and grew rosier beneath my gaze. I watched her pinch and pull, her fingers twisting each one painfully.

“Fuck me, Chad,” she ordered. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll take care of things myself.” She lifted up and brought a big swollen breast to her lips, licking the nipple and then sucking it into her mouth, gazing at me with eyes so dark with lust the pupils almost disappeared. The depths of a stormy dangerous sea shone in her eyes, and I was drowning, caught in a typhoon.

“You don’t give me orders, Zoe,” I said quietly, each word dropping like a stone. “I’m in control here. If you want something from me, you’re going to have to beg.”

Something flashed in her eyes, something as hard and needy as what lived in me. We were both too proud for our own good, too arrogant to think beyond ourselves, but filled with such lust and sexual greed that we’d do almost anything for a fuck, to come, to ease the ache. She gave me a sultry smile and shocked the hell out of me when she said, “Fuck me, Chad... I’m fucking begging you. Make me cum with your big, thick cock.”

I hooked my hands beneath her knees, lifted her legs high, and plunged my cock so far into her pussy that she screamed and arched with the pleasure.

As I slammed into her again and again, her muscles fisting around my dick like a tight wet glove, her hands clutching at my arms, I felt like I’d come home. I found both pleasure and pain buried balls deep in her hot, wet, pulsing cunt.

We came together, tensing, seizing, flexing, loudly, like the old days, and fell into each other’s arms.

Zoe pressed her cheek to my chest and sighed.

I kissed the top of her head and prayed that this time it would last.