Wish Her Well

Wish Her Well

Fantasy Heights Series, Book 7

by Meg Silver

Kindle Edition

Copyright 2012, Meg Silver, et al.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

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The author of this work holds sole publishing rights. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without permission of the rights holder. For information regarding permissions, email Meg Silver at [email protected].

Edition Notes:

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AMZKDP:111212

Fantasy Heights Series, Book 7

There were degrees of bitchiness. Ridley Pierce must have studied hard to earn them all.

She caught Derek and Amanda waiting together in the Viewing Room’s greenroom.

“Well, well, well.” Ridley stood in the doorway, barely decent in a black column dress more suited to a beauty pageant than a VIP mixer. “Scraping the bottom of the barrel tonight, I see. Couldn’t they find a better replacement for Nicole, or did they run out of cardboard cutouts?”

Amanda watched Derek turn a dangerous brownish-red color. She could hardly blame him. Five days with no word from Nicole. Three since the locals joined the investigation, and still nothing. Derek was despondent, and Ridley should be ashamed of herself for taking such a tasteless shot.

Much as Amanda would like to rip out every single one of those red curls, she was still under strict orders from Thomas to set a standard of composure and keep things running smoothly on the resort.

She stood and spoke in a level, reasonable voice. “Was there something you needed?”

“Jerod. Have you seen him?”

“Slipped his leash, huh?” Derek asked.

Ridley tilted her head, giving Derek a long look. “He’s useful.”

So it was true, Amanda thought. All week long, the grapevine had smoked with rumors of a Ridley-Jerod hookup.

“The same way Thomas would have been useful?” Derek asked. “Oh, wait. That’s right. Thomas doesn’t have the Hughes family money in his corner. Off with his head.”

“Is this you, being self-righteous? That’s interesting, because at least I’m honest about it. I don’t hide the fact that I use people to get what I want.”

Derek’s eyes filled with enmity and spite, and he returned fire. “Except you never do get what you want. You’re never quite special enough to play Cinderella, and never powerful enough for evil queen. No matter which party you crash, you’re never quite belle of the ball, are you, Ridley?”

Amanda watched that bullet ding its target. The effect was chilling. Ridley turned from ‘bombshell’ to ‘warhead’ in the blink of one heavily made-up eye.

Whoa. Time to step in again before this got bloody. “Sorry, Ridley. Jerod’s not here. We haven’t seen him.”

Ridley gave them both a contemptuous sweep with her eyes before leaving them in peace.

Immediately, Amanda began the damage control. She put a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Ignore her. She’s just mad because her complaint backfired.”

Derek gave her a begrudged smirk. Ridley’s complaint about their off-script fumble yielded unexpected results. Instead of landing Derek and Amanda in trouble, their runaway chemistry had pushed them to the top of the VIP clients’ hot list. Tonight, while guests for the Three Sisters Ball kickoff event made merry in the Viewing Room’s gallery, she and Derek would perform a fantasy written by a blue-chip client.

They were the last pair of the night’s seven performances. Yes, they would have to be extra vigilant not to deviate from this custom script, but it was still an honor to be chosen for this top-drawer event. And watching Derek, she had no trouble at all stirring up sexual appetite. A sedate, dark suit accentuated his lanky strength. Even tense and distracted as he was, the man still had those compelling features and unruly hair that always turned her head.

Amanda was glad to see her levelheaded act take effect on Derek. He rolled his neck to dispel some tension, and checked his watch. Then, without warning, he reached over to open the front of her fuzzy yellow robe to peek at her breasts.

Her protest was mostly artifice. “Hey!”

“Yeah, but admit it. You stopped worrying about me for a minute.” He winked and sent her onto the set to begin the show.

The Viewing Room stage—a large box of two-way mirror—was dressed as a bedroom in rusty reds and pine green. As she came on set, she crossed to the vanity table on the far side of a king-sized bed. Following the script to the letter, she leaned forward, examining her face in the mirror, tracing the pad of her ring finger over her bottom lip as she tilted her head this way and that, regarding herself and her features.

The whole time, she wondered where the fantasy had come from, whether this was a reenactment of something the client had seen or done before. Whatever the case, she moved onto the next step and shed the robe, draping it over the back of the vanity chair.

Instead of her face this time she began to examine her body in the mirror, turning slightly, arching her back a little then subsiding again before raising her hands to trace a playful line along the outer curve of her breasts. She made multiple, undecided repetitions before fingering a nipple, feeling the soft flesh tighten and watching it do so in the mirror.

Heat flickered to life between her legs. Always her undoing, masturbating in front of someone else. Apparently it made no difference whether she could see them watching because already she wanted to skip ahead. Strip off the panties, put one foot on the edge of the vanity, reach down and rub her clit, watching in the mirror.

Script.
Script
. She returned both her attention and her hands to her breasts, feeling the increasingly sensitized skin and watching a blush redden beneath her skin.

Her body responded with a hungry rev when she focused on her nipples. Pinching. Twisting. She could feel her breathing deepen, and she paused to enjoy the needful current flowing between nipple and pussy.

Now the panties could come off, and she wished the script had contained more mirror play. Instead she had to move to the bed, where she lay down at the very end, feet on the floor.

Slowly, delicately, she began to run her index finger from pubic bone down toward her clit. Playing at it, at first. Of course, it didn’t feel like playing. Her blood was already steaming with liquid appetite. She wanted to spread her knees wide and bang herself. Sink her fingers in as far as she could. Pinch and roll her clit. Rub it hard. But she had to go slow. Prolong this part. Work up to the more incendiary parts.

Little by little she spread her knees wider and wider, rubbing up and down with more and more force. Her fingers were good and wet by then. Derek had better hurry up. She could feel that ring of pleasure forming inside, an orgasm flirting with her already. Involuntary gasps and pleas were being wrung out of her. She had to transfer her fingers to a safer rubbing point.

When Derek did finally come in, her startled jump was not entirely pretense.

He slammed the door behind himself. “What the hell?”

Caught, she grabbed at the duvet in an attempt to cover herself.

Derek moved to stop her. His long legs crossed the distance between them in a couple long strides. He caught her wrists, ending any hope of finding refuge under the duvet, and he was so much stronger, he had no trouble at all flipping her over onto her belly.

Derek kept her hands trapped behind her back while he climbed onto the bed. With a knee on either side of her bottom, he sat down on the back of her thighs. Wriggling and writhing did no good. He pulled off his necktie and used it to bind her wrists. The struggle was limited to a futile kick or two with her feet, even while her imagination took a carnal detour, wondering how it would feel if he were to back off the bed, pry her knees apart, and fuck her right then.

Too bad the script had more foreplay than force involved. Derek did back off the bed, only to haul her upright before stripping off the blankets and tossing them onto the floor.

Back onto the bed she went, face up, while he stripped. The whole time, her eyes devoured increasing amounts of bare skin covering that powerful, hard body. She hoped she could be forgiven for forgetting to struggle while he shed the boxers. She couldn’t take her eyes off his cock, wishing it was pounding into her.

Nude now, he made her kneel on the very end of the bed. Guided by his hands she bent at the waist, leaving her backside high up in the air, her head and one shoulder resting on the mattress.

Derek pushed against her forearm, clearing her hands out of the way before delivering a sharp smack to her left buttock. The blow was more provocation than punishment but the sting and impact hurt. Her inner muscles tensed. A scorching hot point of arousal formed near her clit.

Two smacks. Three. Neither as hard as the first, but both were followed by that afterburn and surge of pleasure.

She almost forgot the next part of the script until Derek sat down on the end of the bed and forced her to change positions. Then she lay across his lap, his erection pressed against her side. She wanted to concentrate, to keep a nice sharp focus but things never worked that way with Derek. He gave her another couple smacks before turning his palm up and working his middle and ring finger into her pussy.

When he began to pump them inside her in long, slow, inflammatory strokes, she groaned out a whimper of gratitude. His fingers felt so good. He took his time, pressing them in as far as they would go before pulling them out again. Firm and studious, making sure to repeat any motion that seemed to make her mewl or writhe more than others.

She was deep into la-la land when he dipped the index finger of his other hand into ample lubrication. Without any prep or warning, he pressed the tip into her ass, clear up to the second knuckle. Thinking became strictly optional for a while, all her attention scattered as her body responded to the lavish stimulation he doled out with those fingers. In her position, she was utterly powerless to move, let alone grind against him. As it was, she let her body undulate as it would while he deepened his strokes into her pussy, multiplying a warm, electric static into heat lightning.

It was too bad the clients couldn’t hear the things Derek said to her while driving her to the point of screaming. He talked about how wet she was. How much he liked the sounds she made. How badly he wanted to fuck her, and how hard he wanted her to come on his hands.

She would have happily obliged him but he stayed faithful to the script. All too soon, he moved her again. The floor this time. Derek lay parallel to the glass. She straddled him, hands still bound behind her back.

This part required no thought whatsoever. Derek helped guide his cock into position and she scooted and tilted until his tip was inside. She wanted to sit right down on him, drive him in as far as he would go, but she had to have patience. She worked up to a slow grind that had him clutching at her hips, head thrown back, eyes glazed with affectionate passion that didn’t gibe with the script, but was part of what made them click.

If only her hands weren’t tied, she’d be making fists in that hair of his. And poor Derek never stood a chance. The grind turned more purposeful as she lowered herself down and clenched hard, grabbing at his balls with her buttocks and bound hands. She felt his torso and thighs go rigid beneath her as his body passed the point of no return.

Hers recognized that sensual threshold. She renewed her effort to squeeze and rub him into pandemonium. Too bad she wasn’t paying attention to her own escalation. As soon as he hit orgasm and the tip of his cock reached its hottest, all that glowing and pressure crunched down, paralyzing her inside its grasp. She was suspended there with the pleasure broadening and spreading until a frenzied pulsing began and her breath stopped.

The orgasm drew her behind a veil of awareness where everything was sensual and chemical, and entirely hot and good. And she stayed there longer than usual, her body stubbornly prolonging the pleasure, dissipating stress and nerves better than any other remedy.

She came back down to find Derek staring up at her. One of their small, conspiratorial smiles warmed his eyes. She returned it while he untied her wrists, and then she stretched, languid as a cat while his hands slid up her thighs and climbed to her breasts.

Derek only allowed a moment or two of petting before they returned to the greenroom. There, Derek caught her up in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. “Slam dunk. For once, we didn’t mess anything up.”

“Hey, the day is young.”

He tightened the hug into rib-crushing mode and kissed her neck before letting her go. “Amanda, I need to confess something. What Ridley said about using people.”

“You don’t have to confess anything. She was just being vindictive.”

He shook his head. “No. Not entirely. You know the lead in specialty fantasies, right? Phillip Irving?”

Amanda nodded. Phillip worked with only the most exclusive tier of clients. Their paths had yet to cross.

“A couple months ago,” Derek said, “he told us he’ll retire from performing soon. Nic and I will both be up for his job. I got arrogant and made some really dumbass remarks about who deserves what. Nic got offended enough to start doubting herself. Next thing I know, she and Ridley are going to one of those so-called self-actualization workshops at DriveRate.”

“What
is
DriveRate? Everyone always talks about it but no one ever explains.”

He sighed. “Ninety-nine percent of what DriveRate does is harmless. Mostly it’s a bunch of over-privileged, entitled sheep like Ridley trying to make themselves relevant with rallies and ‘I’m so awesome’ seminars. But there’s a contingent inside DriveRate that’s more hardcore. There’s been some seriously freaky accusations from the families about brainwashing and financial shenanigans. I felt bad and guilty, and I worried Nic might do something foolish, and I tried to prove those people are frauds. My efforts on that score were somewhat less than honorable. Ridley found out. She’d been slugging me with it ever since. It’s my own fault, so don’t waste your worry on me. I don’t deserve it. Save it for Nic.”