Moments In Time: A Collection of Short Fiction (46 page)

About the Author

Lisa
M. Harley grew up in a small town in Missouri, very similar to the fictional towns she writes about. She moved to the big city right after graduation and now works full-time while raising a beautiful little girl.

Lisa started writing in October 2012 when a group she was a member of had a prologue contest. Even though she didn
’t win the contest, everyone who read the prologue asked her to finish the story. That was when she made the decision to finish the story and get those characters in her head out on paper. While finishing up
Destined to Change
, it became clear to Lisa that her characters had a lot more to say, thus creating the Destined series.

Lisa is more than a little addicted to Facebook. So message her
. . . she would love to hear from ya’ll.

Lisa may be found on social media at:

Facebook:
Lisa M. Harley

Twitter:
@Lharley77

Website:
www.lisamharley.blogspot.com

Books by Lisa M. Harley include:

Destined Series

Destined to Change

Destined to Succeed

Real Men Wear Pink (short story)

Other Books

Four Letters

Forbidden Fruit Vol.
1 (anthology)

by Sophie Monroe

A shallow, self-centered party girl sets her sights on a rock-and-roll star for her happily-ever-after.

Star

“Close the door behind you,” I called out to Jax, who turned to look at me with anger and disappointment etched across his strikingly handsome face.

“Fuck you, Star. You’re a fucking bitch,” he yelled, slamming the door hard behind him and making the pictures on my wall rattle.

“You call me a bitch like it’s a bad thing, baby,” I managed to spit out before the door closed completely. I was pretty sure he heard, giving me a sense of smug satisfaction. I always liked having the last word.

Jax knew from the get-go that I wasn’t into the serious relationship thing. I didn’t do strings attached. In fact, I seldom did anything that involved pleasing other people. I was selfish and the first one to admit it. I was in it to win it, and on a hell-bent mission to make a name for myself and prove everyone who ever doubted me wrong.

Star wasn’t my given name, but it had stuck over the years, and I liked it much better than Deirdre Vandermark. Seriously, who the fuck named their kid Deirdre, other than someone who wanted their kid to get picked on and ridiculed. Well, my mother obviously, but that was a story for another time.

My entire childhood was spent being the odd girl out. The last one picked in gym class, the loser, the outcast. You name it, that was me. That was until the summer going into my senior year, when I discovered MAC and Chanel. I never looked back and suddenly the tables turned, along with the boys’ heads. I used to give a lot of fucks about what people thought of me, until I realized that wasn’t going to pay my bills. Then Star was born.

My self-esteem had taken so many blows throughout the years, it was a nice change, and I decided I liked the attention that came along with it. Older guys were attracted to me and would do anything I asked to get my attention, so I used it to my advantage.

Judging by my luxury apartment and fake double-Ds, I was doing pretty well. Don’t judge me. I was the Barbie you’d never get to play with unless you could pay the price.

Then there was Jax. He’d been my friend since before the transformation. He was a great fuck, and I knew he was in love with me, but it wasn’t reciprocated. He stayed around, though, hoping that I’d give him the chance for “more.”

Sitting up in my bed, I picked up my phone from my nightstand and scrolled through my calendar. An alert popped up, reminding me that I had an event to attend tonight with Paul Marks, a well-known music producer. I was his arm candy for anything he had to attend around here, and occasionally he would even pay for me to tag along to destination events. It was all part of the game. Look the part, and they will come crawling with wallets in tow.

When I climbed out of bed, my feet hit the black fuzzy area rug that sat under my bed. Stretching my arms above my head, I let the sleepiness fade away and quickly made my bed. I ran my hand over the high-thread-count sheets and down duvet, then fluffed my pillows. My place needed to be immaculate at all times.

Despite the fact that some people would call me a “whore,” I was far from it. I had always liked sex, a lot. I enjoyed being sought after, but then again, who didn’t? Everyone wanted to feel desired, some more than others, and I managed to turn it into a profession, of sorts.

Making my way into my bathroom, I hit the light switch and turned the shower on, letting the room fill with steam. I turned on my Bluetooth speaker and put the volume up as Papa Roach blared through the room singing about “little dirty girls.”

I showered, shampooed my hair, then made sure I took extra care in shaving everywhere that wasn’t waxed. My skin was a perfect sun-kissed tan, thanks to a tanning bed. My hair was platinum-blonde with thin black streaks throughout. My eyes were brown by genetics, but thanks to the luxury of contacts they were sometimes green or blue, and occasionally even purple. My fake double-Ds were courtesy of my first sugar daddy, who was only thirty-five.

After toweling off, I made my way over to my vanity to start my routine. I moisturized, buffed, and tweezed until I was as close to perfect as I was going to get, which in my opinion was pretty damn close. I slid my silk robe on and went into my kitchen to make a protein smoothie, since I usually hated the food at these events. It was always dainty little appetizers that other people’s dirty hands brushed while grabbing theirs. The thought of eating those made me shudder, and besides, I wouldn’t be caught dead stuffing my face like a glutton.

Finishing the last of my smoothie, I quickly scrolled through my social media, posting a couple of vain selfies of myself for boys to run to the bathroom and jack off to.

In real life, I kept my circle to a couple of close friends. I chose not to talk to my family because when I would, all they did was lecture me about how I was wasting my life. It got old, so I stopped picking up the phone. Jax was one of my constants. He didn’t get too preachy because he knew I’d do the same thing to him in a heartbeat.

I typed out a text to my friend Bri to see if she was going tonight, too. Her on-and-off boyfriend, Tristan, was a lead singer, and usually showed up for the free booze. At least I’d have someone there to hang out with if she was going.

After sitting around most of the afternoon being unproductive, it was time to start getting ready. Riffling through my lingerie drawer, I pulled out a black lace G-string and matching push-up bra set. Feeling good about yourself started with the basics; pretty panties were essential and never cheap.

I opted for a pair of skintight leather leggings, knee-high leather boots, and a ribbed white tank to make the black bra stand out. Sitting at my vanity, I teased my hair and curled a few of the black strands to make them pop. I applied my makeup to perfection, choosing a smoky eye and a nude lip so my lipstick wouldn’t betray any kiss-and-tell action.

At exactly nine o’clock, Paul showed up on my doorstep. Glancing out the peephole, I could see he held a bouquet of flowers. Sliding the chain lock off, I opened the door and stood there showing off his prize for the evening.

“Jesus Christ, Star. You look fucking incredible. So incredible I might need to fuck you before we go, and then again when we get back,” he said with a smirk. He handed me the flowers, which I barely glanced at before tossing them onto the kitchen counter.

Paul was good-looking and didn’t have a problem getting girls to do his bidding, but they couldn’t do what I did behind closed doors. Not even close. He had on a pair of low-rise dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His dark hair was shaved, leaving just enough not to be bald. He had an M. Shadows thing going on and I found it incredibly hot.

When I crooked my pointer finger at him as I walked backward to my bedroom, he followed like a dog chasing a bone until we reached the bed. Lowering my pants, I gave him a peek at what was underneath and could see he was already starting to stir in his pants. Paul was blessed and pierced in that department.

Taking his arm, I led him to the side of the bed and had him take a seat on the edge. Wasting no time, I undid his belt and unzipped his fly, reaching in to spring him free. When I looked up, I made sure I had my lust-filled boudoir eyes in full effect before grazing my tongue across his hard shaft. His hand reached to the back of my neck and brought me farther down as I began bobbing up and down. Lightly pressing my tongue underneath, I made my way to the tip and swirled around before taking him as far back in my throat as I could.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he practically growled.

I could tell he was starting to thicken, so I used my hand to pump the lower part of his shaft, working my mouth at the tip. Swirling and grazing until I felt the hot juice fill my mouth, I sucked him dry before running into my bathroom to spit it in the sink. Those were empty calories I didn’t need. After spitting, I quickly brushed my teeth while Paul cleaned himself up. I met him in the living room where he handed me an envelope, my fee for the night, if you would.

Paul was a great stepping-stone to rub elbows with more well-knowns in the industry. He was well connected, and with any luck would eventually lead me to my end game.

What was my end game, you ask? Finding the richest, sexiest rock god I could dig my sharpened claws into, and roping him into being my happily-ever-after.

And I was halfway there.

• • •

When we entered the club, the party was already in full swing. I loved the rush of a good time. The smell of sweat mixed with booze and lust was like a drug to me. Arm in arm, Paul and I made our way to the bar to order some drinks. The bartender stared at me for a little longer than necessary and I could tell that Paul was getting a little jealous, so I leaned up to his ear and bit the lobe gently.

“I’m all yours tonight,” I whispered seductively.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked. With his short brown hair spiked into disarray and twinkling baby blues, he looked like a college student.

“I’ll have a vodka and Red Bull, sugar free if you have it,” I said with a wink.

“I’ll take whatever you have on tap,” Paul said, a little harsher than necessary.

It was a huge turn-off when guys got possessive over me. I wanted to be free to have a good time and do my own thing. The thought of being tied down made me feel claustrophobic. I wasn’t settling for less than what I felt I deserved; I wanted a man who would drop to his knees to kiss the ground I walked on. One who would treat me like his princess, and better than his favorite whore.

The bartender placed our drinks in front of us. Paul slipped him a twenty-dollar bill and then handed me my drink. I put the tiny straw to my lips and sipped. It was delicious, and I planned on having as many of these as I could handle tonight.

Taking Paul’s hand, I pulled him to where some of my future baby-daddy prospects were standing, one of them being Jarred Sins. Jarred was dreamy, tall, and loaded, which meant he was exactly what I was looking for. The front man for a popular rock-and-roll band, he had a reputation for being an asshole, but that wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle and eventually break him of. I’d seen him in passing before at events but we were never formally introduced, and I was hoping that tonight would be my lucky night.

I played my part like a well-rehearsed actress, laughing at all the right times and fueling their egos to make them feel special. Again, it was like a game, and you needed to know when to make your move. I made sure I occasionally make eye contact with Jarred throughout the night. Apparently I was intriguing him, which was exactly what I was going for. I wanted to sink my claws into him and by the looks of it, this was going to be my chance.

Jarred excused himself from the group he was talking to and made his way over to where I was standing with Paul and some of his colleagues. “Paul, good to see you,” he said with a voice carefully modulated to make panties drop. “Who’s the gorgeous lady?”

“This is Star,” Paul said, sliding his arm a little tighter around me and pulling me close. “Star, this is Jarred Sins.”

Jarred narrowed his eyes as he gave me an appreciative once-over. “Pleasure, doll.”

“Pleasure’s my middle name,” I said, flirting back.

Taking my small hand into his large one, he shook it lightly and lingered before letting it go, practically giving me goose bumps. “Is it now? Maybe I’ll find out one day.”

Paul stiffened, obviously getting irritated, and I knew I should stop because I was technically his date tonight. But this was Jarred fucking Sins, and I wanted him up against a wall with my legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked me into oblivion.

“Maybe another time,” I suggested, hoping that he would say yes.

“Sam,” Jarred called out, without removing his gaze from mine. A hulk of a guy came strolling to stand at his side, apparently his bodyguard. “Do me a favor and take this pretty lady’s information for me and guard it with your life.”

Without a word, Sam pulled out a notebook and pen from his suit pocket, then dutifully wrote down the information I provided before returning it to his pocket for safekeeping as promised.

Trying to hide how giddy I was feeling at the moment, I dragged Paul toward the dance floor and started grinding my ass into his front.

“Was that really necessary?” he said, unmoving.

“Oh, stop being a drama king, you don’t get to be jealous. I’m not yours, I don’t belong to anyone,” I said through gritted teeth, trying not to make a scene. “Can we just enjoy the rest of the night?” Trying to lighten his mood, I pouted prettily for him, presenting my full bottom lip.