BPOV
“But…I love you, too,” I whispered to the now empty room. And I couldn’t let him leave without at least hearing the words.
I jumped out of the bed to run after him, but when a rush of cold air caused me to shiver, I realized I was still naked. Knowing there would likely be some of Justin’s help in the house, I couldn’t go out there like that. So, I grabbed one of his t-shirts and threw it over my head, ran for the door and down the long corridor. I nearly fell headfirst down the stairs, but I somehow managed to stay upright long enough to reach the foyer. Then I wrenched opened the front door and opened my mouth to shout the words…just in time to see the ass end of the limousine as it pulled down the drive.
Too late. He was gone. And I…was all alone.
As I watched the limousine disappear from sight, something came over me. I expected it to be defeat, agony, betrayal, heartache…but it wasn’t.
Rage. Rage and…arrrgh, more RAGE.
How fucking dare he? Stupidstin with his stupid big house, and his stupid big ego, and his stupid big head thinking that he knew what I was going to say. And then, before letting me get the words out of my mouth that were sure to prove him wrong, he goes and pretty much tells me to fuck off.
He got to say all that he wanted, and I mean, sure, I could’ve echoed his declaration whilst in the throes of passion, but that passion was pretty fucking epic and I had a hard enough time remembering to breathe – yes, he took my fucking breath away – let alone being able to say anything that would have sounded in the least bit coherent or endearing. Besides, I really thought I had all kinds of time to tell him how I felt. I mean, hellloooo…I told him to call me Bella. Additionally, I didn’t want him to think I was just saying those three little words just because he did. I wanted a separate moment to do the whole shout-it-from-the-highest-mountain-top-for-the-whole-world-to-hear thing so that there was no doubting the sincerity of my declaration. Because a declaration of that magnitude is a pretty fucking serious thing, but I was all kinds of prepared to make that leap…for him, for me…for us.
And then he just had to go and ruin it with all his me-man, me-know-what-best-for-woman caveman bullshit.
Fuck and that.
All those hairy pitted, buzz-cut feminine rights activists with no boobs, no hygiene and no chance of ever really landing a man…were right. Men were jackasses.
But, the difference between me and them is that I could do something about my man because I really had nothing to lose by getting all up in his grill. I was going to make him listen to me, whether he wanted to or not. He was going to know that I loved him and he was going to feel like a total ass for dismissing me the way he did. Because I was going down to that posh little office of his and I was going to demand his attention. He was going to see how wrong he was to make the assumptions he made, and he would never jump to conclusions again. Because I was a woman, damnit; a woman who had given up everything to save her dying mother’s life, and I had a fucking voice that was screaming to be heard. I’ll be damned if everything I’d been through since I entered Justin Bieber’s world was all going to be for nothing.
Resigned to that theory, I turned on my heel and stalked back into the house with my shoulders back and my head held high. After a quick shower and a tour through Jasmine’s wonderland of inappropriate clothing, I dressed and grabbed my cell phone from the table before leaving.
I was really quite impressed with myself as I scurried down the stairs, again avoiding a neck-breaking, skull-crushing fall. Just as I reached the first floor, I heard a car pull up. It had to be Riley returning from dropping Justin off, and I gave myself a healthy dose of see-this-was-meant-to-be because how perfect was that timing?
And then there was an insistent pounding on the door, followed by a, “Belly Bean! Belll-lyyy Beeeaannn! Get your fat ass out of the bed and open the fucking door, bitch!”
No way that shrill, girlified voice could be mistaken. That was my bestie…Louis Tomlinson.
I sprinted for the door and yanked it open just as Louis was about to pound his fist against it again. For such a girly-man, he was pretty fucking stout and I was lucky that he narrowly missed cold-cocking me in the forehead. Like I needed to look like a freakin’ unicorn when I went to confront Stupidstin.
“Louis!” I shrieked as I ducked his fist. We both took a step back and eyed each other over from head to toe.
“What the hell are you wearing?” we both asked simultaneously. “Jinx! You owe me a Coke!” I yelled at the same time that Louis yelled, “Jinx! You owe me a cock!”
Every time we played this game, I never got my Coke. Louis, however, always got his cock…on his own because, according to him, I was a slacker when it came to finding his quarterbacker.
Louis was dressed head-to-toe in black on black. Well, mostly. Black skinny jeans, black turtleneck, black snake-skin boots. But, Louis being Louis, he had to accessorize. One larger-than-life, pink rhinestone studded Playboy bunny belt buckle adorned the center of his low-slung hip huggers, and he was wearing a black skull-cap with the word ‘PRISS’ in dainty pink script just over his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. But that wasn’t all, oh no…just under each twinkling hazel eye, black paint, just like football players wore.
“What’s with the Mission Impossible garb?” I asked as we gave each other an air kiss to each cheek and I stepped aside to invite him in.
“I’m breaking you out,” he answered with a sway of his hips. And then he turned to look me over once again with an approving smile. “Boyfriend sure did trick you out, huh? Look at you with the little red mini dress, hooka’. I’d say it fits you like a glove, and it would be true if it were actually a glove and your body wasn’t the equivalent of oh, I don’t know…say…OJ’s hand.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, Louis-speak for watch-it-bitch.
“Gasp…,” he said, putting his hand to his chest. “You…have been thoroughlyscrogged, bitch! And you didn’t call me!? W. T. F!?”
“Nuh-uh, we’re not going there right now,” I waved a finger at him. “Not until you tell me what you meant by the whole breaking me out thing.”
“I meant, get your shit and let’s go. Come on…shoo-shoo, away with you. I’m on a covert mission to bail your ass out of sex-slave prison,” he said and then looked around in awe. “Although, I don’t really see how you could exactly call these digs a prison, boo-boo. This is a freakin’ palace!”
“Louis? Yoo-hoo, Louuuiss?” I called, waving my hands and snapping my fingers in front of his face. He was absolutely mesmerized by Justin’s home. Not that I blamed him; I had been too when I first arrived. It was just that for Louis, that was a dangerous situation. I might not have ever been able to get him to leave. He always fancied himself destined for royalty – princess, not duke, not earl, not king…princess.
“Adam Lambert!” I yelled, knowing it would get his attention.
“Where?” he squawked, finally looking from left to right, then behind himself, and then, “Move your fat ass, bitch,” as he shoved me out of the way to look behind me. Really? As if I could hide someone as…we’ll just say, colorful…as Adam Lambert behind my body.
“You are way too predictable,” I laughed at his disappointed face…aaand there went his bitch brow. I swiped my hand over my own face like a mime, going from a happy to serious expression. “Okay, seriously…Why are you here, and how did you know where I was.”
Louis rolled his eyes and put one hand on his hip, while waving the other one around on a limp wrist in time with his words. “You said Justin Bieber bought you, and it didn’t don on me at first, but then it hit me like a whore getting’ bitch slapped by her pimp in a dark alley…The Justin Bieber, of Scarlet Lotus, right? I mean, because how many Justin Biebers could there be in the world, much less in this corner of the country and with enough money to pay a million little cha-chings for his own personal little oh-yes-daddy-milk-me-papi?” he asked with all the great acting skills of a porn star destined for the silver screen. Yeah, right.
“Okay, so you might have a point,” I giggled.
“BTW, I hope you know I’m borrowing that dress. I’d fill it out way better anyway,” he said as he pinched the spandex cotton and watched it snap back into place.
Louis wasn’t a cross dresser by any means, but he liked to strut around my room wearing my clothes just so that he could prove how much better he looked in them than I did. Prissy bitch came out of the closet, just to go back in and grab a fabulous black top.
“Um, not unless you’re planning on packing that meat between your ass cheeks, you won’t.”
“Honey, the meat I pack between my ass cheeks is never my own, and you know it.”
“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes. “You still haven’t explained why you’re here, insisting on breaking me out. I’m fine, and really, it’s not exactly like I’m a prisoner. Justin treats me very well.”
My best friend took a deep breath and sighed. “I have something to tell you, sweetie,” he started. Sweetie…he never called me that unless he was about to lay something heavy on me that he knew was going to upset me. My heart jumped into my throat and tried to claw its way out.
“Mar-Mar has taken a turn for the worse,” he explained, using his pet name for my mother. “She’s been admitted to the University of Washington Medical Center, and they’ve called in the family. I promised George that I’d get you home. It doesn’t look good, boo.”
Just then, the front door opened and Jasmine bounced over the threshold. “Good morning, Bella!” she greeted me in her usual bubbly voice, as if my whole world hadn’t just been turned upside down. The smile immediately dropped from her face once she saw, what I assumed was my paled expression. “Oh, God…what’s wrong?”
“Justin was right,” I mumbled as my chest constricted like an anaconda was squeezing the life out of it in preparation to swallow it whole. “My parents do need me more than he does…”
Jake POV
My head hurt. Hurt like I’d been sucker punched by an I-beam that had fallen from 20 stories high, hurt. Or maybe it was more like one of those chandeliers on the Titanic, or hell, even the Titanic itself.
And my mouth tasted like ass.
I cracked one eyelid open and surveyed the damages. Usually when I woke up like this, there was always one or two, maybe even three, whores that I needed to get rid of fast before they became too clingy.
Thank God I was in my office at Scarlet Lotus…alone. I guess that cunt, Selena, took the hint when I told her to get the fuck out last night. At least I thought I’d told her to get out. I remembered fucking her…in the ass, because hell yeah, I had to take that trip down Memory Lane. Too bad Bieber hadn’t been there to see it. The look on his face when he saw that Selena was my date to the ball was priceless, just not as priceless as it could have been. Probably because the lucky bastard had Miss Isabella Clarks on his arm, or I should probably say she had him on her arm…literally. That cuff bracelet she wore said it all; he was marking her as his own personal property, which just cinched the fact that I had to have her. I just needed to get my game plan together…because nabbing a woman like Isabella Clarks was going to take more than what empty promises and a fat bank account normally did for lesser women.
I stretched and felt every glorious muscle in my awesomeness of a body groan in protest. One thing was for damn sure, the cushy leather couch that I’d had imported from Italy wasn’t doing anything for my bad back. Too much fucking in my short lifetime had really done a number on it. But hell, as long as I was good at producing the orgasms, I was going to keep doing it. My orgasms, not theirs. Hey, I never gave any guarantees; when I promised a good time, I always meant it for myself, not them. If the flavor of the night messed around and didn’t find some way to get herself off while I gave her the gift of my cock, it was her problem, not mine.
I willed my head to stop pounding as I sat up and stretched some more to hopefully get some of the kinks out of my neck and back. Goddamn, I was sore. My head started spinning, but after a moment or two, I was able to get the floor to stop moving long enough to stand. Putting one foot in front of the other, I made a zigzag line to my bathroom – admittedly, I was still a little drunk - and grabbed the bottle of pain killers I kept in the cabinet. After popping one in my mouth – hell, two for good measure - I ran cold water in my cupped hands and drank out of them because I didn’t keep a damn cup in my office bathroom.
When I looked in the mirror, I beamed at myself. Any other motherfucker who had had the same night I had would look like shit, but not me. I always looked good to go. I reached for the toothbrush that I kept there, because damnit I had a pretty fucking smile that had to be maintained, and made my pearls gleam before jumping in the shower. A quick rub down and towel off and I headed to my personal closet to grab a fresh set of threads. Yeah, I kept a wardrobe there because someone in my position, and who looked as pretty as me, always had to keep up appearances.
The shower sobered me up quite a bit, which was a good thing because I had a very important appointment that I needed to keep and I needed to be fresh. One glance at my Rolex let me know that I still had plenty of time. Not that it would matter; when Jake Black was involved, time stood still.
I was shocked to say the least when I walked out of my office and saw Bieber stepping off the elevator. He looked up and groaned when he saw me as well. Yeah, I guess it really sucked to have to live in my shadow. I was always one step ahead of him and, come hell or high water, I always would be…until the day he turned over his half of the company to yours truly.
“It’s Sunday, Bieber. What are you doing here?” I asked with a smirk. Not because I cared, but because I loved getting under his skin.
“I have work to catch up on,” he said as he pulled out the key to his office. Obviously, he was going to blow me off, but I just couldn’t let him do that before I’d had my fun with him.
“You left early last night. No worries though, I explained to the board members and clients that you had a hot little number that was demanding your attention,” I said, smugly. He knew the translation; I cut his balls off and handed them over on a silver platter. Score one for the home team; his inattention to them gave me the advantage in the little game we played for control.
He scoffed and shook his head.
“Speaking of…she’s one hellcat of a woman, that Isabella. Eeeew-eee!” I crowed. “Got one hell of a mouth on her too. What was it she called me?” I asked, tapping my chin as I recalled her words. “Oh, yeah…a remora. Seems to think your dick is bigger than mine too, which may be true, but that didn’t stop your other whore from jumping on the Jake Black express, now did it? Of course, unlike Selena, Isabella sure was quick to defend her man. All passionate and shit about it, too. I could use someone like her on my list of go-to-whores.”
Aaaand…bingo! That one hit home.
Hatred flashed in his eyes; mistake number one because the more he cared about her, the more I wanted her.
He closed the distance between us in half a heartbeat and pinned me against the wall with his forearm to my throat; mistake number two because assault in the workplace just added another weapon to my arsenal.
“You stay the fuck away from her! Do you hear me!?” he seethed through clenched teeth as he pointed a finger in my face. “Stay…the fuck…away from her. That is your one and only warning, Johnson. I swear to God…I’ll kill you with my bare hands…”
Mistake number three, terroristic threatening. I just might need to get a protection order, you know…because I was terrified for my life and all, and shouldn’t have to be subjected to a hostile work environment.
I flashed him my winning smile because I had him just where I wanted him. See? It was just that sort of emotional reaction that I’d always warned him about when it came to getting attached to the females. He wasn’t on his A game, wasn’t thinking clearly…had no idea that he’d just given me all the ammunition I needed to ambush him and steal away his pride and joy…Scarlet Lotus was mine for the taking. And take, I would.
His cell phone rang, and although he looked like he wasn’t going to answer it, he swore and finally backed away, restoring the flow of air through my trachea. I did my best to cover my cough as I rubbed at the spot while he was distracted by answering his phone. Bieber was no wuss. I knew if we ever went toe-to-toe in a physical altercation, he’d be a formidable foe, but no way was I going to let him know that.
“What!?” he barked into the receiver.
I ignored him and started toward the elevator because, quite frankly, I was bored with him. I already had what I needed and still had that appointment, so…
“Jasmine, slow down…Who?…Louis? Who the fuck is Louis?…Shit, no…Oh, God, no…Where is she?…No, no, that’s fine…UDub?…Okay, just calm down. I’ll call Harry, he’s on staff there…Yeah, go…Just go be with her, Jasmine,” I heard his one-sided conversation as I waited for the elevator. No clue what it was about, but then again, I didn’t really give a fuck.
As the elevator dinged and the door opened, he looked back at me briefly and then pulled the phone away from his ear. “I meant what I said, Jake. Stay away from her,” he warned again.
“Oh, yeah…sure thing. You have my word,” I said with a mock salute as the doors closed. He knew there was nothing doing, but it sounded like he had his hands full with whatever crisis that little gnat had called him about. Which just gave me a wide open berth to take care of business.
I climbed into my red Viper and cranked the custom stereo, blasting Queen’s We Will Rock You, my self-proclaimed anthem, before squealing tires out of the parking garage. All the more inadequate modes of transportation on the road ahead of me seemed to split like the Red Sea to allow me passage. It was plausible that it was just the fact that traffic was normally sparse on an early Sunday morning, but I’d like to think it was because I was a fucking god behind the wheel of that masterful craftsmanship. That’s right, you sad bastards…make room for greatness.
Within no time, I’d pulled into the littered parking lot of Gigandet’s, a seedy little club with big business deals that had been successfully kept on the down low…like, underground low. Ho’s and schmo’s on the top, real life whores and business moguls in the pit; it was the perfect framework, and every serious entrepreneur should model their business plan after it. Fucking genius…a man after my own heart.
I walked up to the back door and gave two knocks in rapid succession, six in a heartbeat rhythm. Right on cue, Laurent, the owner of the establishment’s right hand man answered the door.
“Mr. Johnson! Right on time, as usual,” he lied convincingly in his thick Caribbean accent. I was at least twenty minutes late, but like I said, time stood still for Jake Johnson “Come in, come in.”
I stepped inside the dark entrance and inhaled deeply. “Aw, the sweet, sweet smell of pussy and money in the morning,” I crooned. “Is there any better combination?”
“No way, man,” he laughed as he clapped me on the back. “James is waiting for you in his office with the merchandise. I’d escort you there myself, but I’ve got tears and piss to clean up after last night’s auction.”
“Yeah, yeah…go ahead. I know the way.”
I walked down the corridor, well strutted is probably more accurate, until I came to James’ office door. I didn’t even bother to knock, because I knew he’d be waiting for me. He was always…waiting…for me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I pushed the door open and there he was…kicked back in his chair, smoking a joint…naked as the day he was born.
“Hey,” he lazily greeted me through droopy eyelids as he exhaled his ganja smoke. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“Yeah, me either,” I sighed as I shut the door and shrugged out of my jacket. “You started the party without me?” I asked nodding to the fluffy white lines of snow he’d arranged on the little rectangular mirror he kept on his desk.
“Nope, it’s never really a party until you get here,” he answered with a suggestive smile as he slowly ran his hand over his chest.
I hung my jacket up on the coat rack and walked over to him slowly as I unbuttoned my shirt to reveal the magnificent sculptured chest that I hid beneath. He liked to watch me move. It did things to him. Did things to me, too, knowing how much it turned him on. James was no one’s bitch, but he was my dirty little secret. He and the Devil’s Dandruff over there were my only weaknesses. Lucky for me, no one would ever know about it.
When I reached where he sat, I towered over him in a domineering posture. In his daily life, he was always the one to lord over those weaker them him, but with me, I was the predator and he was the prey. Always. I grabbed the hair on the top of his head and pulled hard, forcing him to look up at me. One sweep of my eyes over his body and I could see he was already very eager for me. And he would have me, but not before I had a snuff of the flake.
I dipped the tip of my pinky into one of the sculptured lines and brought it to his nose. James closed his other nostril with his fingers, closed his eyes and inhaled the fine white powder.
“Oh yeah, baby. That’s the good shit right there, huh?” I asked him in my husky voice as he slowly opened his lids to look up at me with those baby blues. He flicked his tongue out to lick his lips as he stared at my mouth. The sight of it gave me a raging boner that I could only barely contain. He’d get his kiss, and then he’d suck me off before I snorted a few lines and assumed the position behind him to bring it on home.
I loved my fucking life…
~*~
“Don’t stay away so long next time,” James said as I buttoned the last button on my shirt. “I miss you like crazy when you’re not here.”
“Aw, I miss you too, Jamie, but you know what they say…absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I said, giving him my award-winning smile. It always made him melt, and I played that card like a pro. I had an image to uphold, and if anyone ever found out that I was batting for both teams, it could severely damage that image. Not everyone was tolerant of bi-sexuals; gay bashers would ridicule me, and straight up gays would criticize me for being a fence rider. So, just like I couldn’t let all those whores get attached, I couldn’t let Jamie either. Although if I thought it was ever safe to drop the charade, I’d do it in a heartbeat…for him.
As it was, unbelievable sex and rockin’ snort was all that would ever be between us.
“Your blow is in the bottom drawer of the desk,” James said as he rolled off the couch and sauntered his naked ass into the bathroom for his clean-up time. Goddamn he had a tight little ass, and he could take the pounding I always put on him to boot.
I went over and opened the bottom drawer to get my personal supply, and that’s when I saw it…a manila file folder with the name “Isabella Clarks” written in red across the tab. I could practically see that sexy little smirk on her face from last night as she tore me down, and it gave me some serious wood. I knew the type of business my boy ran, so I got pretty fucking curious as to why James would be holding a folder with my gal’s name on it. I heard the shower kick on in the bathroom, so I pulled the folder out and flipped it open, scanning the singular document inside.
A satisfied smile crept over my face as I read over what appeared to be a contract promising five years of Isabella’s life to one, Justin M. Bieber. “Well, fuck me…Justy, Justy, Justy,” I tsked. “Just like taking candy from a baby,” I laughed as Justin’s signature stared back at me, right alongside Isabella’s.
I closed the folder and put it back. It was safer where it was for the moment, and I knew James would give it over to me any time I wanted it. I had it like that with him, mostly because he was in love with me, but also because he was hypnotized by my cock. As long as he didn’t feel threatened by my intentions with the girl, he would be good to go.
The important thing was that I had finally won. What happened between me and Justin back at the office this morning…that was my word against his. And although I would have had a valid case and would have thoroughly enjoyed dragging his name through the mud, there was no way I could prove what happened. But this…there was just no denying this shit. I had it all in writing.
Scarlet Lotus was as good as mine.
