The Player's Club: Lincoln (24 page)

“I was responsible for there being any footage at all, Lincoln,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care.”

He kissed her hard, stopping any further protests. He kept kissing her until he felt her tension melt and she sank against him with a low, helpless moan. “I don’t care what you’ve done or how you live or what choices you make.
I love you,
do you understand? Just for being you. No matter what.”

Her full lower lip trembled, then she launched herself at him, leaping on him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her mouth strained for his.

His body was electrified. Blindly, he staggered down the hall, through the door, to her bed, collapsing onto it with her. Their mouths were frantic, hungry; their hands greedy and almost violent in their desire. He yanked off her shorts and thong even as he heard the ripping sound of his shirt as she yanked past the small buttons. They groaned, their efforts at speed hampered by the clumsiness of their haste. Finally, they were naked and they pressed against each other with a moan, feverish skin against hot, velvety flesh.

He feasted on her full lips, glorying in the taste of her as her floral perfume filled his nose and the softness of her crushed-silk hair flowed over his fingers like ribbons of caramel. She nipped at his mouth as her palms caressed his hips. She wriggled and writhed until she cradled his hardness between her satiny thighs. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to simply roll her onto her back and bury himself inside her, losing himself in the glorious, overwhelming pleasure of her.

But this was different. For the first time, there were no secrets between them, no games. No club. It was going to be the first time of many, and he was going to make it special.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, ignoring her incoherent murmur of protest as he scooted down, easing his cock away from her core. She struggled, trying to pull him back up against her, until he took her breast in his mouth, swirling the pebble-hard nipple around with his tongue, brushing it lightly with the surface of his teeth.

When she arched her back, he took more of the generous globe into his mouth as his hand streaked lower, smoothing over her stomach and Venus mound, then dipping lower, parting the sensitive folds of flesh. Her hips shifted, her thighs parting and he felt the triangular ridge of her clit, swollen against his fingertips. His cock jerked painfully at the feel of her, and his hips moved, trying to edge closer to the siren call of her wetness, her heat.

She was panting, biting her lip as her head thrashed from one side to the other on the pillow. He massaged her breast, replacing his mouth with his free hand as he shifted lower, moving between her thighs. His tongue traced her slot, then he placed his mouth tenderly but firmly against her, licking into her, lapping at her clit with loving attention. She let out a low, sharp cry of pleasure and he tasted her response. Angling, he pushed one finger into her, then another, delving deeper. She rose off the bed to meet him. Her thighs gripped his head and he worked faster, devouring her, his fingers mimicking what his cock was enviously aching to do.

“Lincoln,” she rasped. “Baby, I’m…oh, God, I…
Lincoln!
”

He felt her body clutch and convulse around his fingers, drinking in the rain of her response as she trembled and jerked beneath him, giving in to pliancy. Then he pulled away, gritting his teeth. His body was taut, seemingly on a featherlight trigger. He wanted her more than he wanted absolutely anything. Ever.

“Lincoln,” she breathed, her hands reaching for him. “I want you inside me....”

It was more than he could handle. His arms hooked around her knees, pulling her to him and he moved forward, the blunt tip of his sex already damp with its own readiness. Feeling the fiery velvet grip of her pussy as he slowly pressed into her was all but killing him. His muscles strained to breaking as he forced himself to gently, gradually bury himself in her.

She gasped, lifting her hips, hooking her heels at the small of his back. He withdrew and plunged, all attempts at finesse forgotten as he simply reacted…and took. His body screamed with the overwhelming sensations. She felt like paradise. She was heaven.

She was
his.

His hips bucked, yet she met every thrust with an insistent passion of her own. He felt the building crescendo of his orgasm and he molded his body against hers, their pelvises pounding furiously as their mouths mated. She begged him to go deeper even as he tried, impossibly, to get closer to her.

When the release hit, he yelled and she shrieked, clawing her nails down his back. He felt the shuddering grip of her climax, the rippling contractions milking his cock and prolonging his own orgasm. He trembled against her, holding on to her like a drowning man as his climax tore through him mercilessly, almost endlessly.

When he finally got his bearings, he realized he must be crushing her. He rolled, taking her with him, splaying her across his body. She stared down at him, her expression dazed.

“I need some time, Lincoln. I need to clean up my life. I have to do it myself,” she said. “Please, don’t make it harder than it already is. I’ve thought about this a lot.” She cleared her throat. “In jail, actually.”

He winced. Then he clamped down on his protest, clenched his teeth. “How long?”

She blinked. “How long, what?”

“How long until you clean up this mess?” he clarified. “How long before I can be with you?”

Her eyes flickered with pain, he recognized, and fear. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, then took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to wait for me, Lincoln.”

“Do you want me?” he asked harshly. “Because if you’re trying to let me down easy, or if you don’t have the guts to…”

His sentence was cut off as she leaned down, taking him in a ravenous kiss, her mouth silencing him as her tongue tangled with his. His cock was growing harder again by the time she moved back to glare at him.

“Do I want you?” she repeated, her violet eyes sparking. “What do
you
think?”

Her angry words melted into a moan as he shifted up, pressing his cock into her.
My girl,
he thought, holding her hips tightly as she closed her eyes.

“I think,” he said, surging forward, “that for you I’d wait forever.”

FOUR MONTHS LATER, JULIANA sat in her new apartment, a neat one bedroom in North Beach with a view of Coit Tower…if you bent your head just right and squinted. It was a far cry from her 37th-floor condo in SoMa—rented, simple, a walk-up. But it felt more comfortable, and even though she had a lot less stuff in it, what was there felt more “her” somehow.

It was becoming a theme, she noted.

She’d sat down with Bernie the Accountant and charted out a new life. She’d gotten rid of the condo at a loss. She’d sold off most of her furniture, all of her artwork and a good deal of her jewelry. Initially, it had been panic inducing. Now that it was all over, she had a small nest egg and a lot of motivation, and best of all, she was ready for a fresh start. All she needed to do was one thing. Well, two things, she thought, eyeing her cell phone. First, she needed to ring up Emily, her publicist. Then…well, she’d make the really important call.

She sat at the scarred antique desk she’d purchased on craigslist, a beautiful find with some fantastic inlay, that currently held her old laptop. As she dialed Emily, she scrolled through her email.

News of her “arrest” and then dropped charges had leaked, getting her some real internet buzz and giving her “infamous” reputation the boost it needed to get Stephen Trainer involved again. She was surprised to find a sixth email from him in her in-box:

Jules! Great news. All the entertainment shows have been posting about you, and the fact that you’ve “gone missing.” Call me ASAP; I can get you a green light on a pilot.

She smiled, then hit the delete key.

Emily answered. “Hey, Juliana. I hadn’t heard from you in a while. In fact, I thought you’d died and forgot to leave me a press release.”

“Ha, ha,” Juliana replied. “Actually, I’ve just been super busy. Restructuring, you could say.”

“I figured you were up to something big,” Emily continued. “You know, I was just admiring your whisper campaign, since it seems like everyone I know has been talking about the fact that you’re completely underground. Got something in the works?”

“Sort of,” Juliana hedged.
Go on. Time to be brave!

“Oh? Is there something you want me to promote?” Emily asked. “Because I have to tell you, I’m booked solid and then some this month, so I don’t know what I can manage, but I’m sure we can figure out something.”

“I’d appreciate it, Emily,” Juliana said. “But…”

“Don’t worry. Ordinarily, I’d tell you I was completely booked and give you somebody else’s number, but I like you. For one thing, you’re not afraid to take risks, and for another, you’re probably the only client I’ve worked with that understands my job’s not easy. Hell, you’re the only client I have that understands strategy as well as I do, and you’d probably write your own releases better than most of the assistants I’ve hired.” Emily paused. “And I don’t mean to be personal, but because I like you, I’ll add this—you’ve had a rough time, and I know it’s been wearing on you. So yeah, Juliana, I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Juliana swallowed against a lump in her throat. “Strangely enough, I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to ask what I can do for you.”

Stunned silence, then Emily spoke. “Um, Jules? You’re not propositioning me, are you? Because I like you, but honestly, I like guys more.”

Juliana laughed. It was Emily’s humor, as well as her smarts, that had made her a pleasure to work with. “No, you goob, I’m not hitting on you. I’m asking you for a job.”

“A job?” Emily’s goggle was clear, even on the phone. “Gainful, honest employment?”

“Not that honest. It’s publicity,” Juliana shot back. “I know all my experience is personal, but I’ve pulled together events, worked with venues. Hell, I know tons of reporters and paparazzi by name. I’m a hard worker and a quick study. I think…no. I
know
I could do this.”

“What about your reality show?”

Juliana went still, then felt all the tension release from her body. “I’m not doing that,” she said. “For the time being, I think I’d be happier helping other people get the limelight. I don’t really need it anymore.”

“Seriously?” Emily said, then chuckled. “The infamous Juliana Mayfield is downplaying her profile. Satan’s putting on a sweater.”

“So, do you have a job for me?” Juliana asked, bracing herself.

Emily was quiet for a long, tense moment. “It would mean weird hours. Setting up events. Sucking up to people you don’t like.”

“Okay, up to about six months ago, you’re describing my life.”

“There is that. All right, why don’t we have lunch tomorrow, and discuss some details? God knows I could use the help right now. And I always knew you were smart, kiddo.”

Juliana was jubilant after she scheduled the meeting and hung up the phone. She now had a job; she wasn’t pursuing the fake brass ring of fame or fortune. She didn’t have to pretend to be what she wasn’t. She could do what she did best, cut out all the other crap and come out on the other side.

She sprawled out on the bed. Bit her lip. Then, slowly, she dialed, holding her breath.

This, she thought. This was the hardest call.

Lincoln’s deep voice said “Hello?” leaving her momentarily breathless…and speechless. It wasn’t until he repeated it, with more annoyance, that it occurred to her she’d changed her cell phone plan and he didn’t recognize her new number.

“It’s me,” she said softly. Then, briefly, wondered if he’d remember her voice. Or if maybe he’d been lying when he said he’d wait for her forever.

The silence was somehow electric. “Juliana?” The longing and hope in his voice almost broke her.

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “I got my life together and…I know it’s been a while, but I thought maybe we could, uh, have dinner. Or coffee. Or, I don’t know, something.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, and hung up.

She broke into a broad, blinding grin. “He remembered,” she murmured, then quickly called him back with her new address.