Until We Burn (Beautifully Broken) Page 2

  “Probably not.”

  “Nothing I can do?” she asks again, her hands trailing from my shoulders down my back and wrapping around to my lap, lightly tracing my crotch. “Can I try?”

  I roll my eyes. “Go for it.”

  The hostess glances around, sees that no one is near, and immediately drops to her knees and crawls under the table. I’m startled for a mere second, then as her deft hands unfasten my pants and stroke at me, I allow all cognitive thought to leave my mind. When her mouth replaces her hands, logical thought disappears and I close my eyes.

  Her hands are cold as she cups my balls, but her lips are warm.

  Her breath is hot.

  And her tongue teases the tip of my dick.

  I fight back the urge to moan. She’s hidden by the tablecloth, so it would look odd if anyone happened to notice me moaning to myself in the middle of a restaurant.

  Christ. I despise women like this, but at the same time, I can’t dismiss their merit. It’s nice to get blown in the middle of the day, in the middle of Providence.

  Sometimes, it pays to be Dominic Kinkaide.

  “Hey, Melanie hasn’t bothered you yet, has she?” Alex demands, appearing out of nowhere. My eyes snap open and I fight to act normal, which is hard since a very key part of me is buried in Melanie’s throat at this very minute.

  Melanie tightens her grasp on my balls, as she’s perfectly able to hear every word that Alex says.

  “Yeah. Stupid chick keeps wanting to assault you… get you to help her out. Just ignore her, Dominic. She’s ridiculous. I have better acting skills than she does. And I’m not an actor.”

  Melanie’s claws grip me tighter and I grimace.

  “No, I haven’t seen her,” I lie to Alex, praying that Alex doesn’t decide to sit down and chat again.

  “Good,” she says in satisfaction. “I told her to leave you alone. I guess she listened to me for once. If she bothers you, let me know.”

  “She’s not a bother,” I assure Alex. Because she’s not…right now. Alex nods.

  “Your food will be up in a second,” she tells me before walking away.

  After she leaves, Melanie finishes sucking me off in record time and climbs back out from under the table, wiping her mouth daintily.

  “That chick is a bitch,” Melanie growls to me. “She has no idea what kind of talent I have. But you do. Now. Can you please put in a word with Tally for me?”

  She stares at me, her hard eyes turning soft for just a brief minute, long enough to give me a glimpse into her life. She’s vulnerable and insecure beneath her hard surface. Just another reason why she shouldn’t be in my world.

  Girls like her get eaten up and spit out.

  “Sure,” I tell her. “I’ll say something to him.”

  Lie.

  But Melanie takes me at my word and bends to squeeze my shoulders once again. She walks away and I watch her hips swish as she goes.

  She’s barely out of my sight when Alex returns with my lunch, switching one service (Melanie’s blow job) for another: my lunch.

  It’s how my life works.

  Everything is easy. Everyone strives to please me. Everything is just so fucking smooth. Now. It wasn’t always that way, of course, but the past is the past. I don’t dwell on it. In fact, I do everything I can to forget it.

  For a second, I wrap my fingers around the necklace in my pocket, the one thing I allow myself to have from my previous life. It serves as a constant reminder for me.

  To never trust anyone again.

  I release the pendant and grip my fork instead, chewing each bite of food efficiently and quickly, returning to the Dominic Kinkaide that the world knows and loves.

  Mysterious, detached, sexy.

  Those are words that have often been used to describe me. But the one word that suits me most of all has never been uttered, never even been hinted at… because no one knows.

  That word is broken.

  Chapter Three

  “No fucking way, “I mutter to Tally. “I’m not going to London. I only have a month until the new production begins. I want to relax.”

  “Well, you can relax in London while they take your pictures for the promos. I also set up a day of shooting for a Tag Heuer commercial while you’re there. You love their watches.”

  “I don’t even wear a watch,” I grumble into the phone, pouring a cup of coffee with one hand as I stand completely nude in the middle of my kitchen.

  “You will for a million dollars,” Tally says cheerfully. “It’s an easy day’s work for you. Their VP of marketing is a good friend of mine and I owed him a favor. Just do this for me, please.”

  “Fine. But you know I hate endorsing shit,” I growl. “Unless Porsche needs a spokesman, no more endorsements. I mean it.”

  “Deal,” Tally replies. “Your plane will be wheels up tonight at seven pm. Amy can’t make the flight with you, but she’ll meet you there. They’re going to work her into the promos at the same time so they can wrap it all up in two days.”

  I glance at the clock. Eleven am. I’ve got to be on a flight in eight hours. Sighing, I gulp at my coffee.

  “So much for a vacation,” I sigh again in resignation.

  I can practically hear my manager smile through the phone. “Your brothers have a show in Amsterdam. I’m going to arrange for you to swing through there on your way home. You might not catch the show, but you can visit your brothers for a day or two. I know you haven’t seen them in a while.”

  True story. Because of their world tour, I haven’t seen them in months. I had actually been looking forward to their show in Chicago next month just so I can have the chance to see them. We’ve always been close, but our hectic schedules prevent us from getting together as much as we’d like.

  “Good,” I answer. “I’ll be on the plane at seven. Are you coming?”

  “Yep. I can’t trust you to stay out of trouble over there.”

  He laughs and I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not.

  “Oh, by the way,” he adds. “I sent you a gift. It should be there any minute. I figured your house needs cleaned before you leave.”

  “I’ve got a housekeeper,” I remind him.

  “Not like this, you don’t,” he answer cryptically, and then hangs up.

  I barely have time to finish my cup of coffee before my doorbell rings.

  I pad over the marble floors to answer it, only bothering to pull on a pair of pants before I do.

  I’m still shirtless when I open the door and find two gorgeous college-aged girls standing in front of me. Blonde, pert, big tits.

  Just the way I like them.

  I grin, a slow grin that the public knows and loves.

  Both girls grin back.

  “And you are?” I lift my eyebrow. They both giggle.

  “We’re from Naked Maids,” one of them tells me. “We’re here to clean your house….naked.”

  I can’t help but grin again at the mere thought. Tally. Leave it to him to find something like this. He always looks out for me…on every level.

  “Good,” I tell them, ushering them in. “The only problem is… my house is already clean. Can we find something else for you to do?”

  They look at each other slyly as I lead them through the house to my living room.

  “We’re not supposed to do anything else,” the taller one says. “But you’re Dominic Kinkaide. We’ll break the rules for you.”

  My grin widens.

  “That’s perfect,“ I tell them. “Because I’m a rule breaker. I have a great idea. Brilliant, really. I’d like for you to clean her,” and I point at the other girl. “With your tongue.”

  They aren’t even fazed. She nods with a mischievous look in her eye and they move to the center of the room and drop onto the plush rug.

  I situate myself on a sofa, my legs sprawled out as I watch.

  God, I love to watch.

  Hands, lips, tongues and fingers move together, rubbing, strokin
g, sucking. My dick hardens and I pull it out, stroking it with my fingers.

  The girls look up.

  “Want some help?” the shorter one asks, her lips glistening.

  I shake my head. “No. I want to watch you. Keep going.”

  They turn back to each other, burying their tongues in each other’s mouth as their hands move everywhere. Their fingers slip in, out, wet. They moan softly as they suckle each other, constantly glancing over their shoulders to see if I like the show.

  I do.

  I finish up within a few minutes and lay sated on my couch as they finish each other off.

  They look up at me as I get to my feet.

  “Anything else you want us to do?” one of them purrs.

  I shake my head.

  “Maybe clean up the kitchen?”

  Their faces are astonished as I walk away and don’t look back, headed for my shower. I guess they don’t get that request very often.

  As I let the water wash over my face and stream down my body, I think about my life. It’s filled with women, in and out of my days and nights like clouds passing in the sky. None of them mean anything to me. None of them will ever mean anything to me. Nothing does.

  I take a very long shower, breathing in the steam, before I finally step out and get dressed. When I make my way back downstairs, the nude maids are gone. The kitchen has been cleared of my coffee cup, the coffee maker wiped clean. So they actually knew how to clean, after all. I’m mildly surprised.

  I grab a book and head out to the pool, soaking in the sun while I read. I should enjoy it while I can. London is notoriously gray and rainy.

  The afternoon passes quickly and before I know it, I only have an hour before I need to depart for the airport. I put the book away and pack a bag.

  I’m just opening the door to my Porsche when a large black car glides to a stop in front of me.

  A curvy blonde bombshell in a chauffeur’s hat steps out of the driver’s seat, dressed in short boy shorts, high heels and thick stripper’s makeup.

  “Your car, sir,” she tells me, her eyes sweeping me up and down.

  I’m surprised for a minute, but then I grin.

  Tally.

  “I suppose you drive topless?” I ask wryly as I put my bag in the open trunk. She smiles flirtatiously.

  “No. But Abbi, your flight attendant, can. If you want.”

  I glance over her shoulder to find another girl, a slender brunette in a skimpy flight attendant uniform, already seated in the back of the limo, pouring a glass of champagne. She holds out the drink to me with a smile.

  “Abbi?” I ask, my fingers brushing hers as I take the glass. She nods, then allows her fingers to rest at the top of my thigh when I settle into the seat next to her.

  “I’ll take good care of you during your flight,” she assures me softly.

  It’s good to be Dominic Kinkaide.

  Chapter Four

  Jet lag is a bitch. A serious, wenchy bitch with a hard-on for revenge.

  I roll over in bed and glare at the alarm. I didn’t sleep much on the plane. In part due to the fact that I never sleep well on them. In another part because of Abbi. The girl aimed to please. Over and over again.

  Tally pretended not to see as Abbi knelt in front of me, not once, not twice but three times during the eleven hour flight. It was nice at the time, of course, but after arriving into Heathrow at 6am without a wink of sleep, I decided to check into my hotel and get a couple hours of shut eye.

  Of course now, three hours later, it’s time to get up and I feel worse than ever. I probably shouldn’t have slept at all.

  I grab my phone and punch in Tally’s number.

  “Dude, I can’t get up,” I groan. “Postpone the promo shoot, would you? I need to sleep.”

  Tally sighs. “Stop acting like your brother. Sin always does this shit to me. Get your ass out of bed, take a cold shower to wake up and get here. You’re already five minutes late.”

  He hangs up and I throw my phone. It hits the wall and slides to the floor, apparently unbroken. I should have thrown it harder. Fuck this shit.

  As I head into the shower, I grab the room’s phone and dial the front desk.

  “Send up a Blood Mary,” I tell them without preamble. “In fact, send two.” I don’t wait for a response before I hang up.

  When I step back out of the shower ten minutes later, two icy cold Bloody Marys are waiting for me on the table in my sitting room. I already feel better from the cold water. But the Bloody Marys make me one step closer to human.

  Not close enough to deal with Amy’s drama this early, however. Her name flashes on the face of my phone and I wonder if she has already arrived. I vaguely remember Tally saying she’d be a day late.

  I let it go to voicemail.

  She calls right back.

  I let it go to voicemail again.

  She’s got to learn that I won’t drop what I’m doing for her. I’ll never do that. I don’t care who she is.

  When I’m in the car riding to the set, I listen to her voicemail. In the first one, she’s snotty.

  “Dom, where the hell are you? I know you’re on set, so I know you have your phone. Answer it.”

  I’m rolling my eyes as I listen to her second message.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I was being bitchy. I’m bitchy when I’m tired.” And hungry, anxious, bored, calm, or otherwise, I think. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I can’t wait to see you. I’m getting in later tonight. Let’s have a late dinner, OK? Talk to you soon. Kisses.”

  I sigh as I slip my phone back into my jacket pocket.

  She’s starting to get clingy. They always do. And I had really thought that with Amy’s prickly personality, she wouldn’t. But here we go. The same old song and dance. I know how it ends and it won’t be pretty. But it won’t end yet. I’ll get what I can out of it while it lasts.

  I close my eyes for a few minutes, until the car glides to a stop. I glance at the window and sigh. Fans are already lined up. How they know where I’ll be, I don’t know. This is just a promo shoot, for God’s sake.

  But I paste a smile on as I step outside of the car, as the fans scream and faint and try to touch me.

  Sign myshirtDominicSignmyboobsDominicCanIkissyouPleaseDominicTakeapicturewithmeDominic!

  Dominic! Dominic! I love you, Dominic!

  Their voices blend together as security pushes them back and ushers me through the masses, through the sweat and perfume, and into the building. I take a deep breath as we step into the silence and I don’t glance back. I know what I’ll see.

  People scrambling to get another glimpse of me, hoping that I’ll come back outside. They don’t even know me, but they think they do because they’ve seen me on-screen so often.

  My fans are why I am so successful. I know that. And I appreciate them. I do. But I’m an intensely private person and having people tear at my clothing unnerves me in a way I’d never thought possible.

  But in order to avoid looking ungrateful, I grin and pretend it doesn’t bother me. I flash the sexy smile that the world recognizes as mine.

  They don’t have to know that it’s a mask, that it’s all an act.

  I’m an actor. They should expect it.

  *******

  “I want to see the Tower of London this time,” Amy demands as she takes a bite of cracker slathered in caviar.

  I stare at her. “Aren’t you worried they’ll keep you in it? They’ve confined witches in it before.”

  Amy stops chewing for a moment, her blue eyes astonished. Then she laughs.

  “You’re such a dick, Dominic,” she chuckles, leaning over the sofa arm to slide her fingers along my cheek. “But that’s why I adore you. You say what you want to say to me.”

  “I just call a spade a spade,” I shrug. “You know you’re a bitch and you don’t care. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

  She eyes me, her expression hardening a bit. “You like about me? I just sai
d I adore you. And you like me? What the hell, Dom? I’m not feeling the love from you lately.”

  And here we go. I knew this was coming.

  I set my whiskey tumbler down and level a stare at her.

  “Amy, you knew going into this what I’m like…. What I’m after. I’m not after a relationship. At all. I like you. I respect you. I enjoy having you in my bed. But love? That’s not who I am, Amy.”

  She leans back, her eyes narrowing now, but filled with amusement.

  “That’s what you think now,” she tells me knowingly. “Just wait.”

  “For what?” I raise an eyebrow. “Until hell freezes over? Because that’s how long you’ll wait if you’re wanting more from me than what we’ve got.”

  She shakes her head. “Whatever.” She waves one hand, the diamond rings adorning her fingers sparkling in the dimmed light of my sitting room. “I’m going to be jetlagged. So I should take a sleeping pill and go to bed. But first, let’s go to bed.”

  She stares at me, her gaze turning dark and sultry, as she stands up and slowly begins shrugging out of her clothing.

  I lean back in my seat and enjoy the show.

  Half of Amy’s body isn’t real… it’s been enhanced by plastic surgeons. But because of that, it’s perfect. Her tits are large and round, her nipples pointed to the sky. Her stomach is perfectly flat, her hips swelled to perfection. Due to liposuction, there isn’t one trace of fat on her.

  She’s unnaturally perfect. I personally prefer real curves, imperfections and all.

  But I don’t say that. Instead, I just enjoy the show.

  Bending over in front of me, she slides her panties off and tosses them into my lap. I pick up the lace with one finger and hold it to my nose, inhaling it.

  “You smell good,” I observe.

  She smiles.

  “You know I do,” she purrs, gliding to my side and dropping onto my lap. Reaching into her nearby purse, she pulls out a pair of padded handcuffs.

  “Get on your bed, Dom,” she commands. “I want to be in charge tonight.”

  It’s a good thing I’m in the mood for that. Lying back and zoning out… letting the intense feelings of pain and pleasure blend together until I can’t tell one from the other?