Arianne he opening gala for the upcoming release of the six-figure headphones is taking place at the Schützenweide rec eption hall—a building on the premises of Sennheiser’s headquarters. I almost passed out when Beckett told me people were willing to fork out ninety thousand dollars for headphones. It’s pr eposterous the new model is even more expensive. I suppose when money isn’t an object, you wouldn’t balk at the exorbitant price tag. I’m not their target audience. Most of the people I’m rubbing elbows with tonight, are. Including the good-looking guy standing next to me. After shaking too many hands, Beckett and I are standing near the piano, enjoying a glass of champagne, accompanied by some delicious finger food. It’s the only exciting part of the evening. For all the money in the room, tonight is a bit of a snooze fest. “Let’s give it another half hour and we’ll call it a night,” Beckett says. “I second that.” “If it isn’t Mr. CEO in the flesh,” a voice says. I turn around to see two tall men approaching us. I do a double take and my jaw drops. No way. I mean, no way. I must be imagining things. “Beckett.” The tall man with coffee-colored hair and coffee-colored eyes I know as Tomas Lazovi n extends a hand. “I didn’t know you two were attending,” Beckett says, shaking it. “We couldn’t get here earlier because we were performing a sold-out concert last night in Vienna,” Tomas says. “On top of that, our publicist had a full day of publicity appearances across the Austrian capital booked for today. Hence, why we landed an hour ago. We dropped our luggage at the hotel and rushed here.” “That explains it.” Beckett turns his attention to the equally handsome man standing next to Tomas. “Good to see you.” “It’s good to see you, too,” the man I know as Anders says, patting Beckett on the shoulder. They exchange a bro hug. I’m too shocked to even breathe. Tomas playfully punches Anders’ arm. “It appears tonight, we’ll have to be satisfied with the other attractive single women in the room.” His eyes brush up and down the length of my body. “Since Mr. CEO already snatched the most gorgeous one.” I blush. My only saving grace is the color of my dress, competing for attention. “Knock yourself out,” Beckett says. “Joker,” Tomas says. “Are you going to introduce us, Christensen?” “I wasn’t planning on it, but if you insist,” Beckett says. Okay, I don’t know what to do with myself. “Fucker,” Tomas says. “Arianne Buchanan, I’d like to introduce you to Tomas Lazovi n and Anders Benkovi n the duo behind Cello2 Cello. Gentlemen, please meet Arianne.” We exchange greetings. I try to ke ep my cool and not come across like an awestruck fan. “Remember, I told you about Jam Session, the talent show I’m a cojudge on along with Stasia van Gameren?” “Yes,” I say. “Two judges had to pull out because of international concerts and tour schedules. These two will be the new judges in the upcoming season.”
“Your music is incredible,” I say. Anders smiles. “You know our music?” “Who doesn’t?” I manage without jumping up and down with giddiness. “You didn’t know anything about my former band or my music. I’m a little insulted,” Beckett says with a grin. “Tomas and Anders’ music touches your soul.” “So does rock music when it’s played right,” Beckett says. We all laugh. “I’m sorry I didn’t know who you were before I started working for you.” I pat his forearm. “Please don’t take it personally.” Anders laughs. “I like her.” “So do I,” Tomas says. “A lot.” They exchange a knowing look. “Perhaps you might want to join us for a night cap, Arianne.” Tomas turns to Anders. “I like the way you think.” “I thought so.” Anders shifts his attention to me. “It would be our pleasure to play something just for you. Let’s call it a private concert...” “Gentlemen, we’ve already gone through this.” Beckett’s tone is borderline icy. “There are tons of other women in the room to choose from. Just not Arianne.” His response startles me. That tinge of possessiveness does something to me. Anders holds Beckett’s stare. Beckett arches an eyebrow. “My apologies,” Anders says with a bow. “Noted.” Tomas does the same. “It’s a shame, though,” Anders says. “Indeed,” Tomas says. “That’s just the way the cookie crumbles,” Beckett says with a tight smile. All three men stare at each other, and it’s as if I’m excluded from a silent conversation. What am I missing? The testosterone floating around us is overwhelming. Tomas turns to me. “We’re honored you like our music.” “When you play, it’s like you lose yourself to the music,” I say. “There’s so much passion in each note. It’s amazing how you’ve turned an instrument that was almost relinquished to becoming a relic, forgotten by so many, into something hot and sensual. And let’s not forget how well you navigate from classical to hard rock. It’s uncanny how you do that. Without you, I wouldn’t appreciate rock music.” “What a compliment,” Anders says. “You have a way with words,” Tomas says. “Is she your new publicist, Christensen?” “No. Rhys and I brought her in to expand SCORE.” “Speaking of the devil, where is he?” Tomas searches around the room. “Urgent business in Vietnam,” Beckett says. “Got it.” Tomas nods. “So, who did you pay—or sle ep with—to get on the invitation list for tonight?” Beckett changes the subject. “Guess who’s going to be the face—and the face—of Sennheiser’s new international advertisement campaigns?” Anders answers Beckett’s question with a question. “Congratulations,” Beckett says. “Thanks,” Anders says. “I’m surprised they didn’t want to use your pretty boy face, Christensen.” “I don’t even plaster my pretty boy face on SCORE products,” Beckett says. “Not to mention, I’m Sennheiser’s competitor—” Anders and Tomas jerk before pulling their phones out of their pocket. “Gage just arrived,” Anders says, lifting his gaze from his screen. Beckett turns to me. “Gage Hollingsworth is Jam Session’s executive producer. He’s also the owner and CEO founder of the music streaming service Stream Tunes.”
“Didn’t Gage Hollingsworth buy out his early investors eight months ago?” “Yes,” Beckett says. Beckett rubs elbows with big players. Not that he’s a small fish. Still, I’m impressed. “I was also on that list, but I requested an early buyout because I was worried about conflict of interest.” Holy shit, Beckett is incredibly wealthy. “It’s the same for my older brother Holt. Once I no longer had financial ties with Gage, it was easier to work together. In Holt’s case, it was to ensure his artists wouldn’t be accused of favoritism.” “I see.” “Gage’s company is behind the Stream Tunes Music Awards—” “Gentlemen.” A short man wearing a forest-green tuxedo jacket with a large camera in hand interrupts Beckett. “I’m Douglas Tovey with The New York Times Style Magazine. Could I get a few photos?” “Absolutely,” Beckett says. “I’m always up for a little publicity.” Anders chuckles. “Christensen, your popularity rating is about to skyrocket because you’ll be seen with us,” Tomas says. “You need to lay off the cheap booze, Lazovi n .” Beckett shakes his head. “You’re talking shit.” All four men laugh. I st ep aside to get out of the way. “You too.” Douglas points at me. I hesitate. “You’re Miss Holy Chic, right?” My jaw drops. The r eporter from The New York Times Style Magazine knows who I am? “I recognize you from those viral photos,” Douglas says. Earlier, Beckett and I were accosted by photographers from several media outlets, but none of them seemed to have recognized me. “You’re right, Douglas.” Beckett answers on my behalf. “That’s the one and only, Miss Holy Chic, aka, Arianne Buchanan.” I’m stunned. “That’s what I thought.” Douglas nods, satisfied. “Pleased to meet you, Arianne.” “Likewise.” I manage that one word with a timid voice. “I want you in the photos,” Douglas says. Unbelievable. When I’m still rooted in stupor, Beckett extends an arm. “Come on, Your Holy Chicness, the photographer is waiting.” I oblige. He wraps his arm around me and brings me close to his body. I stare up at him and offer a warm smile. He returns it. One photographer turns into several. They seem to come out of nowhere, all clamoring for the money shot. We’re talking about some of the biggest media outlets in the world. Every time I tried to st ep aside, Beckett, Anders, or Tomas would pull me back into their circle. Some of the shots were hilarious. Those three guys do a good job at riling each other up. When it’s all said and done, I’m dizzy from the overload of attention. This is a lot to handle. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to run to the bathroom,” I say. “Sure,” Beckett says, squeezing my hand. I squeeze his back. “It was a huge pleasure and an immense honor.” My eyes bounce from Anders to Tomas. “I’ll remember this day forever.” God, I sound so lame. “You say that like we won’t see each other ever again,” Anders says. “If you’re hanging out with this guy”—he points to Beckett—“chances are this is the first of many
encounters.” “Anders is right.” Tomas cuts in. “Not to mention, we’ll be at the twoday event and the closing gala.” “I’ll see you around, then.” With a bright smile, I wave at the musical genius duo before I make my es cape. I need some air to compose myself. I fan myself as I weave my way through the crowd on my way out of the elegant room. I follow the signs until I reach the bathroom. There’s a line when I walk in. A quick glance tells me it might be a while because there are only two stalls. Why are women always short-changed? I exit, determined to find another bathroom. After asking around, I head to two other bathrooms without much luck. The third one is the charm. “All yours,” a diminutive redhead says, as she exits the bathroom, kindly holding the door for me. I take in the white evening power suit she’s wearing without anything underneath—aka, no top and no bra—and her super high heels in the same color. Wow. “Thank you,” I say. When I enter the bathroom, I shout in excitement because I’m alone. I inspect my surroundings, nodding my approval. From the granite counter, to the crystal chandelier, to the intricate gold frames around the mirror, this bathroom screams opulence. I enter the stall, place my evening bag on the hook behind the door, lift the bottom part of my dress and hover over the seat, praying to God in gratitude as I take care of business. As I pull up my panties, the bathroom door slams open and then shuts. Someone is in a rush. “Lock the bloody door,” a woman says. “Did you check to see if we’re alone?” Wait. What? That was a man’s voice. “I’m tired of jumping from one loo to the other,” the woman says. “This is it.” “You’ve been itching for an audience for a while.” The man chuckles. Huh? “With good reason,” the woman says. “This is our carefree weekend without the twins. Let’s make it wild, big daddy.” I peek through the crack of the door to get a glimpse of the couple. When the woman walks in front of the stall, I scoot out of the way. “How dare you tease me like this?” the man says. His footst eps are loud against the stone floor. “As posh as this evening is, it’s dreadful and boring as fuck. I had to come up with a way of livening things up. I figured my pussy would do.” Whoa. “You can’t wait until we get back to the hotel?” Humor laces the man’s words. I commiserate with how boring the evening is, but he’s right. You need to get a room. “We don’t do lame, big daddy,” the woman says. “I’m craving a public fuck.” She did not just say that. “I tucked my creamed knickers inside your pocket because my cunt is desperate for your big fat cock.” I swallow my gasp. I didn’t know British people were this daring. Phoebe is right. Two years in London and I spent all my time working, leaving little room for socializing and closing the door to dating and sex. Now, I’m starting to think I missed out.
“Be careful what you wish for, gummy bear.” There’s a warning in the man’s voice. “I don’t want to be careful,” the woman says. “I want you to fuck me like a savage. I don’t want it later. I want it bloody right now.” The man lets out a feral growl. “Show me that beautiful cunt, you slut. Hands on the counter and pussy ready to be stuffed.” What the— “I thought you’d never ask.” The woman sounds giddy. I’m so stunned, I’m uncertain if I should storm out of the stall or ke ep hiding. I peek through the crack in time to see the woman assume the position. She bends over the granite counter with her bare ass and pussy staring at me. The expression on her face reflecting in the mirror is so carnal, it’s unsettling. Oh. My. God. The man fumbles with his belt and zipper before lowering his pants and his boxer briefs to his knees. I jerk back and clasp my hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Beckett is huge, but this guy is of eye-popping proportion. The man is a horse. “I’m going to ram this beautiful cunt until you give me what I want,” he says, vigorously stroking his cock with both hands. It’s like he’s polishing a long rod. “You’re ready for my huge cock?” “Yes, please, big daddy.” The woman gyrates her hips in circular motions. This is obscene. A part of me wants to flee, but another is fascinated beyond words. The man positions himself behind his wife and rams into her in one thrust. It’s so forceful, I feel it. She moans at the intrusion. I bite down against my lip and place a hand over my mouth. “Oh, yeah, pound my cunt, big daddy,” she says. The husband growls as he gives her what she wants. “Fuck me with your big dick,” she says. “You love being on display,” the husband says. “You love swallowing my pole.” She lets out a wicked laugh. “You filthy whore,” the husband says. Slap. Slap. Slap. “Do you have any idea how much I love this fucking cunt? How much I love this beautiful body that gave me two beautiful babies? How much I fucking love you?” “God, I love you, big daddy.” Wow. They have a hell of a relationship. “I’m close.” The man grunts. “You’re going to come for me?” “I am.” “Say it like you mean it.” The man barks his command. “I’m going to come hard for you, big daddy.” I’m surprised security hasn’t busted through the door to find out what’s happening in here. On second thought, thank God they haven’t. Talk about embarrassing. “That’s right, filthy whore.” The satisfaction in the man’s voice is unmistakable. “You give me what I want every. Single. Bloody. Time.” Slap. Slap. Slap. “That’s it, clench that juicy cunt all over my big fat dick, you filthy slut. Make me bloody come.” The woman is panting so loud, her pleads reverberate throughout my body.
My clit is on fire. Every part of me tingles. A war between morality and immorality rages inside me. Judging by the woman’s whimpers and the skin-on-skin slapping, they’re going at it like jackrabbits. The grunting sounds crescendo and then it slows to muffled groans and a series of fucks. I can only assume they’ve climaxed. I’ve watched porn a few times, but this live performance takes the cake. Their heavy breathing takes over the room. I pray they can’t hear mine. It takes everything in me not to make a sound. My heart is hammering through my chest, my body trembling from the forbidden experience. “Fuck, that was hot,” the husband says. “Oh, big daddy, you made me come so hard.” “Good girl, gummy bear.” Their kiss is as passionate as their lovemaking. I hope they don’t go for round two. The sound of ruffled clothing and the clinking of a belt suggests the show is over. Thank God. I couldn’t handle an encore. “Gorgeous shoes, darling,” the woman says. My heart lurches. Oh, no. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.” “I’m sure she did,” the man says. “I heard her heavy breathing over ours.” Busted. “Come on, gummy bear, big daddy needs a stiff drink.” “Good night, darling. Sweet dreams. I hope you’ll think of us when you play with yourself later,” the woman says. She’s talking to me again? Their footst eps carry them across the stone floor, as they both laugh at my expense. I hang my head in shame. I shouldn’t have witnessed that. I should’ve let them know they weren’t alone in the bathroom, but no, I watched, listened, and dare I say, enjoyed that naughty episode. Arianne Buchanan, you’re a vile, filthy, lewd woman. I’m also turned on like a light switch. I’m so fucking wet, I’m surprised my juices aren’t dripping down my legs. I’m taken aback by how my body reacted to something so forbidden. When I’m certain I’m alone, I flush, grab my evening bag, and st ep out of the stall. I look left, then right. The coast is clear. I approach the counter and study my face in the mirror. Pure carnal lust stares back at me. It only takes a split second for me to make the decision. I place my bag on the counter, search underneath my dress and pull down my panties before st epping out of them. I’m sure if I were to wring them, I could soak the floor. With my heart still beating hard and my panties bunched up in my hand, I rush out of the bathroom, and race back to the ballroom. I spot Beckett the second I walk in. I find my composure and approach him. “Where the hell were you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I was about to send a search party. It’s like you disappeared into thin air. I even tried calling your phone without a response—” “The organizers asked us to put our phones on vibrate before walking into the room. I turned mine off.” I’m totally avoiding his question. “You had me worried,” he says. My heart stutters. He’s someone I could really like. You already do, you fool. “I didn’t mean to,” I say. He caresses my cheek. “You’re forgiven.” A swarm of
butterflies dance in my belly as I debate if I have the courage to do what’s been playing in my head since the salacious pe ep show. “Arianne, what’s going on?” “I think maybe we should cut the evening short.” I don’t recognize the brazen woman speaking. He cocks an eyebrow. “You in a rush?” The unholy sexy hunk flashes me a wide grin. My pussy is way too needy for a long explanation. With one hand, I pull the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and with the other, I slip my wet panties inside his pocket. I give it a few taps for good measure. His eyes widen. Beckett pulls the lapel of his jacket and inspects his gift. The splash of red lace stands out against the black. His face screams disbelief. Then, his features morph into something dangerous. His ocean-blue eyes, now the color of dark rough seas, meet mine. “You dirty girl. I didn’t even have to ask,” he says. “Looks like I’m rubbing off on you after all... and soon... I’ll be rubbing you off.” I have to contain the glee of excitement bubbling through me. He leans closer until his lips touch my earlobe. “And that’s the warmup. I want my mouth on your pussy until my face smells like you.” The words send a thrill up my spine. He grabs my hand and pulls me after him.