Hot As Sin

10

Chris is too focused on Heather to notice anything else. Like, for instance, me standing in the hallway watching through the crack in the door as he sinks his c**k inside her, grunting in pleasure and wrapping his hands around the flare of her hips. Ethan reaches down and fondles one of her breasts, pinching a taut n****e between his fingers and making her squirm.

Then the three of them are moving as one, making small, helpless noises and breathing erratically. This is a well-coordinated dance, with an apparent goal of bringing Heather to orgasm first.

She wails her way through it, throwing her head back as Ethan works her with his tongue. Chris f***s her with firm, even strokes, fisting a hand in her hair and slapping her ass.

Sweat pours down my temples. Somehow my erection found its way into my hand. I squeeze it through my jeans, desperately trying to catch my breath.

Then they’re changing position again.

Heather swings around so she’s facing Ethan. She straddles him, lowering herself onto his c**k. As he slides inside her, they groan together. Ethan reaches up and caresses her breasts as she begins to ride him. Chris, moved around to one side of Ethan’s shoulders, takes her face gently in his hands and guides her mouth to his d**k, jutting out from the cage of his fist.

“Yeah, suck that c**k, baby. God, your mouth is so f*****g sweet.” He pants, his hips jerking. “Our sweet beautiful girl. You belong to us, don’t you, baby?”

She whimpers, which we all know is a yes.

“I’m close, brother,” says Ethan raggedly, his fingers now sunk deep into the creamy flesh of Heather’s hips.

“Not yet,” whispers Chris, closing his eyes. “Almost there. Almost—” He cuts off with a fractured cry when Heather slides her lovely tapered fingers under his balls and up between his legs.

Judging by the way Chris’s entire body stiffens and the shout he directs toward the ceiling, Heather is doing something to his prostate that he very much enjoys.

Ethan starts to f**k her harder, thrusting his hips up until her breasts are bouncing and so is her ass, but she keeps right on sucking Chris, right through his loud, jerking orgasm, right through Ethan’s orgasm, too, the two men shuddering and moaning and cursing, until finally her back stiffens and she sucks in a hard breath through her nose, and I know she went over the edge with them.

Drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe, I turn away and run down the hall to the bathroom, where I lock the door, rip open the fly of my jeans, lean over the sink, and jerk myself to the fastest, hardest climax of my life.

Catching sight of my sweaty red face in the mirror, I hoarsely laugh.

Maybe this party isn’t so bad after all.

4

A t midnight, the fireworks start.

By that I’m referring to both the incredible display of pyrotechnics Nico commissioned to light up the night sky over the house and the brawl involving six drunk talent agents from CAA over who’s gonna sign Tom Cruise.

Apparently the megastar parted ways with his last agent, and the sharks are going nuts over the smell of blood in the water.

“You know those f*****g yahoos?”

Standing beside me on a balcony on the second floor that overlooks the pool, Marcus—a talent agent with CAA himself—chuckles. “I’m embarrassed to admit I do.” He chuckles again. “If you think this is bad, you should see ’em at the company holiday parties. Every year those same six douchebags are such a mess security throws ’em out. Year before last, they set the tree on fire. Knocked it over, shorted out the electrical. Next thing you know, the ballroom at the Century Plaza was filled with smoke and everyone was screaming.”

“Why the hell don’t they get banned? Or fired?”

“Because those half dozen morons represent all the biggest names in the industry. Beyoncé, De Niro, Lady Gaga, Kanye West, Tom Hanks, Steven Spielberg…collectively they’ve got billions of dollars of assets under management. If they get fired, they’ll take their roster to a competitor, maybe ICA or Gersh, set up shop with some awesome new bennies and be no worse for the wear.”

I crinkle my brow, watching six grown men in expensive suits act like a bunch of dopey frat boys. They throw sloppy punches, shove and swear at each other, crash into an ice sculpture bar. It topples it over and smashes into pieces as startled party guests yelp and jump out of the way.

“I woulda thought they’d have iron-clad non-compete agreements.”

“You rep that much money, you write your own ticket.”

“Sounds like a pretty great gig.”

“The agency’s always looking for hustlers, if you’re interested. I could put in a word if your new position doesn’t pan out.”

That gives me a good laugh. “No thanks. Seen enough of Hollywood to last me a lifetime. I’m looking forward to getting out of L.A.”

Marcus appraises me with an eyebrow lifted. “Done with the people here, that it?”

His tone is casual, but I sense he’s probing. I know he and Grace were an item before she got together with Brody. I wonder if they still talk. Then I wonder if Grace thinks I’m leaving because of her, the way Nico did.

Christ, I really hope I’m not the subject of gossip. The idea of people talking about me behind my back makes my skin crawl.