Home > Until We Burn (Beautifully Broken #2.5)(3)

Until We Burn (Beautifully Broken #2.5)(3)
Author: Courtney Cole

“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.”


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

She’s barely out of my sight when Alex returns with my lunch, switching one service (Melanie’s bl*w j*b) for another: my lunch.

It’s how my life works.

Everything is easy. Everyone strives to please me. Everything is just so f**king 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 f**king 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, stroking, 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.


“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.

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