Try and Play Me, Boy (The Playgirls #2) Page 2

  Later, they got in touch with some local journalists, with whom they’d met at Starbucks every now and then. As On Top’s subscribers list grew, they’d rented an office; now, they figured amongst the papers found in most store displays They were talking about buying their own building.

  “So, what are we doing this time? You want a withdrawal, or would you prefer to re-inject all the profits in the business?”

  That was a no brainer.

  The three first months, Alice didn’t accept any pay; she still had a bit of savings and it was stupid to use up a chunk of her own money to pay herself. She’d forced Linda to take a couple of thousand – a fraction of her previous salary – but from the second quarter, the business had made enough money for both of them to get paid as much as she’d earned from her secretarial position.

  Three years later, Alice’s salary was on par with a New York City senior reporter – she didn’t need anymore.

  “I’m reinvesting it.”

  She’d asked to take her profits out the first year, because she’d needed a new computer and her lifetime habit of saving what she could had made her reluctant to take it directly out of her salary; never would she do that again. Ever.

  It hadn’t been the thousand dollars she’d expected. Or two. Or three. Or four.

  She’d hurriedly put ninety-five percent of what she’d taken out right back where it belonged, before the taxman caught wind of her income.

  “Great. That’s that sorted. The meeting is in twenty minutes, but now, while I’ve got you, I wanted to ask: how are you doing with your Valentine’s Day story?”

  Alice inwardly growled. Her story was a mess; a great, big, huge thirty-one thousand word mess.

  “I’m… Yeah, it’s great. I’m great.”

  A proficient liar, she was not.

  “I can still get someone else to write it if it’s outside of your comfort zone.”

  Alice pushed her Mac towards Linda. It was opened on her latest draft; she scrolled up and let her read it for a minute or two.

  Make that five.

  “Ok, enough.”

  She closed her computer, ignoring Linda’s protests.

  “As you see, sex isn’t out of my comfort zone. The problem is that I can’t damn stop writing.”

  “Shit, A. That’s not sex. That’s a novel. With a pretty good start, too.”

  Alice lifted a dubious eyebrow; she’d done creative writing at college and while her capacity for writing entertaining short non-fiction had stood out, she’d had zero skill in actual book writing. Zero.

  “Seriously, it’s gripping. I’ve read ten pages and I want to know what happens next.”

  “Whatever. I’m just getting everything in black and white, so I can pick out the best lines to write my article.”

  “So, what? You’ll summarize two hundred pages?”

  That had been the plan, yes. However, she had to admit, it did sound a tiny bit silly, now she said it out loud.

  “Look, given the fact that you’ve entrusted me with three quarter of your life’s savings, it’s safe to assume that you trust me, right?”

  Alice nodded carefully; sure, she trusted Linda, however, it was natural to question anyone who started a speech with that.

  “Carry on writing; when you hit forty thousand words or so, wrap it up – finish it on a high, with something sweet, if you can. End of the month, we’ll send it to an editor; and instead of writing an article, you can write a review of the book. That’s your column sorted, and we’ll make you a best selling author in the process, under some pen name.”

  She just laughed out loud at that. Linda was great, but sometimes, she just lived on another planet. No one published books in six weeks. Whatever publishing house they contacted would get in touch in three to six months if they were lucky.

  She told her just that, and it was Linda’s turn to chuckle.

  “Ok, we have a meeting to sort out, first. Then, I’ll introduce you to the wonders of Kindle Direct Publishing.”

  Chapter 3:

  Colt knew it was going to be a shitty day, so he grew a pair of balls and did the only thing that could possibly make it better.

  That had been two hours ago; only now did his text inviting Alice for dinner receive a reply.

  Is that a booty call?

  No, he quickly typed. There’s just a restaurant I’d like to try out.

  That didn’t make him seem totally desperate, right?

  The answer came immediately, this time.

  No thanks.

  Alice had been true to her words, and she’d also lied through her teeth. The previous week, he’d seen her twice, and twice, she’d fucked him.

  But she’d lied, because they hadn’t gone back to their previous familiarity; before, they would have spent some time fooling around, watching movies, speaking about their days, but there had been none of that.

  After coming, she’d run out of his flat like her butt was on fire. Well, it probably was, considering the way he’d rammed inside her flesh, desperate to own her like he used to, but she’d shut him out.

  He forced all thought of Alice off his mind when a knock resounded on his door.

  It was the first Monday after the holiday break, and he’d summoned Kim to his office to get it over and done with right away.

  He’d also called his mother, and a HR assistant, as he’d decided right when Kim was plastering her lips on him.

  Only, the conversation wasn’t going to be quite what he’d planned at first.

  As the woman’s face fell upon entering, she’d obviously understood where that was going.

  “Colt, I’m sorry…”

  “No,” he replied, cut, final.

  His mother had cautioned him, asking him to remain calm and professional, but his anger leaked from his tone.

  “No. Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not this time. You’ve repetitively acted in a manner which was completely unprofessional, and given your outstanding performance as our CFO, I have turned a blind eye until now. No more.”

  He knew firing her wasn’t going to immediately get Alice to reconsider their relationship, but hopefully, it would count in his favor.

  Regardless, he couldn’t work with that woman; not anymore.

  It had taken a while to see what his siblings had hinted at for years, but now he acknowledged it, he was disgusted by her, and by his own behavior.

  Most functions, Kim had gotten tipsy and used it as an excuse to touch him. He’d fallen for it a few times, because he wasn’t adverse to casual sex, and she’d always seemed conscious enough to know what she was doing.

  She’d also occasionally done it when he had been attached; not as blatantly, but she’d displayed their familiarity and each time, it had created a drift with whatever woman Colt saw at the time.

  Only now did he actually see the manipulation behind it. She’d used alcohol as her excuse. She wasn’t an Alice, a woman who could stand in front of him and tell him what she wanted or expected. Kim was a coward; a coward whose latest antic had cost him everything.

  “You’ll have a reference,” Colt said. He was being generous, but her work wasn’t the issue; he wasn’t about to prevent her from finding another job. “And we’ve drafted a healthy severance package. You can work your three months notice away from me or leave right now. I don’t care.”

  Colt turned towards the window, dismissing her, but instead of taking the hint, the woman stomped her foot like the spoilt child he now saw she was.

  “That’s bullshit! Ten years, I’ve worked here. Ten, Colt! You can’t fire me because some slut isn’t happy I…”

  She stopped, interrupted by the sound of the vase he’d thrown across the room.

  If she’d been a man, he would have punched her in the face rather than taking it out on the poor by standing decoration.

  “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear. I’m firing you because your infatuation with me makes you unprofessional, as well as pathetic. You know where the door is
.”

  How about a bootie call, then? He’d sent before he could stop himself.

  Hell to it, he needed to see Alice.

  The swift response made him want to break something. Apparently, while Alice couldn’t possibly clear her schedule for dinner, she was free for a quick fuck.

  Dammit.

  •

  Alice had never been as wet, and it had very little to do with the low, rumbling voice saying all of those dirty words, or the way she was pounded from behind.

  Ok, bullshit, all of the above helped, but her arousal was off the chart for other reasons.

  Each time she turned around, she saw it. Colt had purchased a top of the range camera for their video, and it was pointing straight at her, her ass, her back, sometimes her face.

  She tried not to panic about that. Her black bob was hidden under a red cosplay wig she’d bought online, and the long asymmetric fringe fell on her made-up face. There was no way anyone she knew would recognize her; not only because of the hair, though.

  Alice wore more make up than Marylin Manson on performance day; black lipstick, dramatic smoky eyes and all the Goth bullshit. To suit the persona, she’d bought a black leather lingerie set; basque, thong and all.

  Colt hadn’t even bothered greeting her, which was fine with her. He’d thrown her on her bed, undone his zipper, grabbed his camera and entered her without even removing his clothes. Dammit. Remembering that was enough to make her walls contract around his cock.

  “That’s it, your cunt is swallowing all of me.”

  His hand reached around her legs, to her leaking pussy and stroked her clit as he pushed inside her, balls deep.

  “It’s making such a mess, princess. Like a naughty, naughty little cunt. Do you know what happens to naughty cunts?”

  He’d always been rude as fuck when they had sex, but when he insulted her now, a part of her wondered if he meant it.

  Well, right now, she didn’t care one way or the other, but in an hour or so, laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she’d consider it.

  A harsh, hard, unexpected slap landed on her ass, and she moaned out loud as it promptly launched her over the edge.

  Fuck. It had never been that quick, that effortless; she normally felt the climax coming – pun intended.

  Ignoring her orgasm, he carried on his unyielding rhythm, both with his cock and his hand.

  Shit. He was actually hitting her ass. Why the hell was she liking it?

  “Hands above your head, princess. Hold on to your headboard.”

  She obeyed without questioning it, and gasped as he bound them up there with his leather belt, still screwing her hard and fast.

  “Perfect,” Colt said, his palm now caressing the sensitive flesh of her ass; then, he withdrew his length from her and she protested out loud; he couldn’t stop! Not now!

  “Perfect,” he repeated, and she felt him back against her; but not her pussy. Oh, no. He was higher up, pushing right between her butt crack.

  “Tell me, princess, ever had anything in there?”

  He knew exactly what she’d had in there; his fingers, his butt plug, his tongue.

  A harsher slap followed her silence, swiftly warming her entire body. She turned, confused as to how she could possibly feel it all the way from her shoulders, and saw his tie in the hand which wasn’t holding the camera.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes,” she moaned out loud, her voice needy, unfamiliar.

  “Good girl. Have you ever had a cock deep in that perfectly rounded ass, princess?”

  Shit, her dripping cum was going to soak the mattress.

  “No.”

  It sounded like she was begging; probably because she was.

  “Mhh. A virgin asshole. My favorite kind.”

  His cock was rubbing again it, following her butt crack, before returning against the hole and pushing a little bit deeper each time.

  “Lesson one. Virgin assholes need a lot of lube. Oops. I don’t have any with me.”

  He sounded real sorry about that.

  “Do you know what that means, princess?”

  It meant she wasn’t going to be able to sit down for the foreseeable future.

  “It means you are going to have to lubricate my dick. I know how good you are at that.”

  He got up from the bed and effortlessly pushed the metal frame away from her wall, making it look like it had been made of plastic.

  Before she recovered from the surprise, his engorged shaft was deep in her mouth.

  This time was very different from the day when she’d blown him in his apartment; she wasn’t giving a head, today. He was taking it, screwing her mouth deep, fast, and hard.

  That irrevocably proved that she was actually insane, because she became wetter, and desperate for another release; her pussy throbbed, and she closed her legs to try to get some friction. Damn him for restraining her hands!

  “Good girl; look at my glistening cock. Your ass will be very appreciative.”

  And it was.

  Colt returned behind her and thrust hard inside her rectum as she screamed in pain, pleasure, shock and arousal.

  That felt strange. Alien. Not entirely unpleasant, but she wasn’t sure why she liked it, because it was her clit and vagina which wanted attention.

  Then, he moved.

  Wow.

  She bit her lips, trying hard to stay silent, and failed.

  The new sensation was overwhelming and underwhelming, frustrating as hell, because full as she was, it wasn’t enough; she was greedy.

  Alice was all but ready to beg for more when a hand moved up from her hips, towards her breast.

  Colt pinched and caressed, teasing her so much she cried.

  She could barely breathe when he reached towards her bedside table, and fetched a Bob.

  It was Mr. Pink, her basic curved dildo; she gasped out loud when she realized what he wanted to do with it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.

  He pushed it inside her effortlessly and rammed it three times when she became boneless, spineless, blinded, mute.

  When she regained consciousness, the first thing she felt was the absence of the dick which belonged inside her body. She was disappointed, wanting it again, right now.

  She was still shivering under the aftermath when Colt shifted, moving to her side in a position that was way too close to spooning.

  “Your skin is the softest thing in the world,” he murmured, his lips against her shoulder, drawing another frisson.

  “You know I’m just bidding my time, right? Someday, you’ll trust me again. Then, you’ll be mine.”

  Enough of that nonsense; Alice moved away.

  Today hadn’t gone according to plan. It had become too… personal.

  “Do you want to watch it?” he asked, removing the SD card.

  She did her best to stop her body from convulsing and shook her head, trying to appear dismissive.

  From the way his face fell, it worked.

  Good.

  Right?

  Dammit, it was good. She ignored the way her heart contracted; the silly organ didn’t have a clue what was good for her.

  “Nah. Send me a link once you’ve uploaded it. I’ve got work to do.”

  Alice was behind her computer before he’d made it out of the bed.

  He lingered for a few minutes and she could feel his gaze on her; it was heated, as usual.

  Then, he was gone, and she returned to her book.

  Good.

  Good had become her mantra every time Colt was leaving; she had to repeat it to herself and at some point, she hoped, she’d actually feel it.

  Alice was grateful for the distraction of a humongous pile of work.

  It had been relatively easy to transform her various notes into a story, actually. Obviously, she’d had to change the names of her characters, but she’d kept their descriptions mostly intact, which was a problem.

  Linda had said she had to make the book end well; while women lik
ed conflicts, they also were thirsty for a good happy ending. Let’s face it: everyone felt cheated by One Day kinda storylines.

  But whatever way she reshaped the story, Colt-now-Tyler was a womanizing bastard. She couldn’t see a believable way to turn that mess into a happy ending, unless it involved Alice-now-Chantelle carrying Tyler’s body to an unmarked grave and becoming a lesbian.

  It was possible that she might have become jaded. Just a little bit.

  Chapter 4:

  By the end of January, Colt was ready to murder Alice. He could count the conversations which had gone past five sentences on one hand; not that he hadn’t tried, but she’d always brushed him off, answering his questions with a shrug or a monosyllabic response.

  However, they’d fucked forty two times. Forty two, in thirty one days.

  Over the course of the last week, Alice had seemed unwell – paler, weaker than usual, with dark circles under her eyes. He’d enquired; he’d wanted – needed – to know what was wrong with her. Her reaction? Yep, a shrug.

  Today, as she didn’t seem better, he brought it up again, while she was undoing her robe.

  She always met him in a robe now; she wore exquisite lingerie underneath. He hadn’t seen her in jeans once since the Christmas Gala debacle.

  Hot, sure, but all of that served to remind him of one fact: that he was nothing more than a casual fuck, to her.

  Thanks, princess, I’ve had the memo.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he frowned, looking down at her frame.

  She’d always been slender, but it had been healthy before – now she looked like a catwalk model: undernourished, weak, ready to faint.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t I make your dick hard anymore?” she asked sarcastically, glancing down towards the bulge in his pants.

  He ignored what he knew was a provocation.

  “Alice, tell me you aren’t on a crazy diet. Your body was perfection.”

  “And now, it’s not,” she concluded flatly, her eyes flaring.