that now you’re all Hollywood, it looks like your celebrity friends are getting more of you than I am.’
‘Is that how you feel?’ Chloe asked softly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think—’
‘Like I said, whatever.’ Nate took her hand. ‘I’m sure you can make it up to me.’ With his other hand he unbuckled his jeans and a rock-hard cock sprang free. He guided her fingers.
‘Nate, shouldn’t we talk about this?’
‘There’s better things to do than talk.’ His voice was gravelly now as he pulled her head towards his crotch. ‘Things that mean more.’ Closing his eyes, he ran his hands through her luscious hair–she’d take to it, had never been able to resist.
Sure enough, moments later he felt her lapping at his dick like a kitten.
This is where she belongs, he thought, propping himself up to watch the show. Chloe went at it tentatively at first, then with greater enthusiasm, clasping him between her palms, cupping and kissing his balls. He pushed himself further till he heard that beautiful mewl of resistance, felt her little soft tongue press down hard on his tip.
Withdrawing, he flipped her back on to the bed. He pounced on her, kissing and biting like a wild animal. With his teeth he freed her breasts, sucking at them hungrily, tucking his arm round her waist to bring her up closer.
‘I want you, Nate,’ she whispered. He buried his face in her neck, pulling on her earlobe. Man, she was beautiful.
He fumbled with the playsuit, trying to work out how to undo it. Eventually he gave up and hooked his fingers in, pulling the crotch of it to one side.
Chloe felt his cock pressing for entry. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ she asked through the haze. She raised a knee against his chest and levered him off.
Nate appeared confused. ‘I’m all out.’ He grinned. Realising how that sounded, he hastily added, ‘Chris nicked ‘em all.’ He leaned in to resume kissing her.
‘Come on, Nate,’ said Chloe, firmly this time. ‘I don’t want to get pregnant.’
Nate hauled himself off, rolling his eyes. Grudgingly he wrapped a dirty-looking towel round his waist and disappeared from the room.
Chloe sat up. She tucked her knees up under her chin and waited for him to come back. Moments passed. What was taking so long? She lay back and stared at the ceiling, a great fan with huge blades whirring above her. Bored, she rolled over and slid open his bedside drawer. There was a photo of the two of them at some launch in London last year, their arms round each other, smiles wide. She grinned at the memory.
Lifting it, she ran her fingers round its edges. They were made for each other, she knew that much. Nate had just been tired earlier, there was nothing to worry about.
As she went to replace it, her eyes fell on something else. Beneath the picture was a box of condoms. ‘Aha!’ she said happily, thumbing open the top and about to call out to Nate. But nothing prepared her for what it contained.
Chloe frowned. The box was stuffed with little squares of different-coloured foils, all of them ripped open at the top. Tens upon tens of condom wrappers with nothing inside. She emptied them out in the drawer, confused at first and then, as understanding came, totally numb. She felt her heart stop. Tears sprang to her eyes. The world shrank so it was tight around her. She pulled the sheet up to cover herself.
Faintly she heard Nate having a brief conversation with someone outside. She thought she heard the words, ‘Not this time, mate,’ before Nate opened the door and triumphantly held up the goods. She found she couldn’t say anything.
The sex was painful. Chloe was detached throughout, gazing blindly up at the ceiling, silent. Nate didn’t seem to notice as he rocked on top of her, mumbling things in her ear that she couldn’t hear. He tore at her body, attacking her, driving into her with unstoppable force.
Eventually he climaxed. Chloe lay still, eyes wide open. Nate rolled off and muttered, ‘Fucking amazing, babe,’ then fell asleep almost instantly. She heard him start to snore.
Chloe lay awake for what felt like hours. She was unable to get up and leave, not knowing if her legs would carry her.
She turned into the pillow and cried silent tears.
36
Lana punched in Cole’s number one more time, was transferred to the usual answering-machine and hurled her cell at the wall. What the fuck was her husband playing