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  “Her name is Alina.” Casey rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress her grin. “You’d think they hadn’t seen a woman since they got to the island.”

  “Not one like this,” Blake said. He was trying to make me feel good, or get me to relax, I was sure of it. But his words tangled dangerously with my emotions. If I let my guard down, it would be easy to believe them.

  I wasn’t hideous, but I hadn’t paid a lot of attention to myself lately. My long, dark hair was usually up in a ponytail—having time for makeup was a pipe dream most days. I was getting a little soft because Mom really loved macaroni and cheese and who was I to deny her that pleasure. In a perfect world, I would have prepped and primped for this trip. Crash diet, spray tan, and all the waxing. But things like that hadn’t been important to me in a long time. So here I was. Doing my best. And from the look on the faces of Jupiter in Blue, my best wasn’t so bad.

  “Let me show you to your bungalow.” Casey reached for my arm and gently pried me away from Hunter, who’d still had his big hand on my back.

  The blazing sun was a shock when we left the cabin. Six brightly colored bungalows were grouped closely together, right on the beach. Fuchsia flowering bushes guarded each doorway, and palm fronds swayed gently in the breeze. Paradise.

  “I’m actually bringing you to my bungalow,” Casey said as she pulled my suitcase along the wooden walkway. “You just came from the studio, and the guys each have their own bungalow. When they come together, they either make magic or threaten each other’s lives. You never know what you’re going to get.”

  “We’re roommates?” Maybe it was a good thing Katie didn’t come after all. The bungalows didn’t look very big.

  “Not exactly.” The last word ended on a high note, like Casey wasn’t good at full disclosure. “Once we invited you and your friend down for the weekend, I made plans to go back to Miami and meet with some industry executives. We need to make plans for pushing the album once it’s done. Believe me, I’d rather stay here with you.”

  “It’s just me and the guys? All weekend?” The tingles inside me were a mixture of excitement and fear.

  Casey stopped before she opened the door. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

  I hadn’t thought about what I’d wanted in a long time. I thought about saying no and asking her to stay. Not exactly to be my wing woman, but it would’ve been nice to have someone here to break the ice between the band and me. In my brief conversations so far with the guys, I’d barely been able to utter a fully formed sentence. This weekend could be an epic disaster because I was too freaking star struck to do half the things the heroine in my stories suggested.

  They called me by my screen name. They’d read my stories. Holy shit.

  “They’re great guys. I wouldn’t leave you here alone with them if I thought there would be a problem. I’ll leave you my phone number. We have security in place to protect the guys, but that extends to you while you’re here, Alina.” She opened the door to her bungalow to punctuate her statement. “Everything you need is at the resort. A chef comes at night to cook for the guys, and his people make sure we’re fully stocked for the rest of the day. The Wi-Fi password is on the desk, and we’re streaming everything that can possibly be streamed. But you’re on a gorgeous beach, and I bet you won’t even touch your computer while you’re here.”

  The room felt huge, thanks to the vaulted, thatched ceiling. A fluffy, all-white bed took up most of the room, and a white chaise lounge was near the window, overlooking the beach. I was drawn to it; the turquoise water and white sand were ridiculously perfect, and like everything else here, I was having a hard time believing it was real.

  Casey put her hand on my back. “Will you be okay if I go?”

  I nodded. “I’m not always this much of a mess.”

  “You’re not a mess at all.” She gave me a quick, awkward hug. “The chef has dinner ready every night at eight. I’ll tell the guys to give you some space until then. They’ve got enough to keep them busy for the next few hours. I’ll be playing the song they’re working on today for the label tomorrow. No pressure or anything. If I were you, I’d open the window, peel off those heavy clothes, and take a nap.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.” And a perfect way to kick off a vacation. “Is there ever anyone else on the beach?”

  She shook her head. “Just you and the guys until the chef shows up.”

  Just me and Jupiter in Blue. Nope, I wouldn’t freak out. “Okay.”

  “Have a great weekend, Alina. Remember, anything you want while you’re here is yours.” She stopped before she opened the door and turned back to me. “Anything.”

  Even the shower was magical. It was right outside the bungalow, with nothing but scandalous open sky above me. As the last of Cleveland washed away, I got braver. And now, I couldn’t tear myself away from that window that overlooked the beach. Wearing nothing but a towel, I pushed the panes open, grabbed the Wi-Fi password and my laptop, settled in on the chaise, and went to work.

  Nothing like being face to face with my idols to have inspiration hit me in the face. My claim to fame in the fanfic world was one long story delivered in installments like a soap opera. Storylines ended, but my fictional universe went on indefinitely. I’d started writing the stories for myself, to let my own fantasies run wild, and posted them on a whim, never expecting another person to want to read them. I’d been so wrong. Since the first post, I’d had millions of reads, which now included the members of Jupiter in Blue.

  In my story, the band had a muse named LinaLu. I deserved the right to star in my own fantasy. Whenever the guys needed inspiration, they went to Lina, and she gave it to them, usually by making them get naked and worship her. Serving Lina always gave them the answers they needed.

  It had been weeks since I’d posted a new installment. Mom suffered a few setbacks lately, and most nights I fell in bed, too exhausted for coherent thought.

  Mom. Shit. I never called my sister to let her know I’d arrived. Or to check in. I didn’t forget about her, but this didn’t exactly feel like my real life.

  I’m here, I texted. Everything okay there?

  Yeah. Anita surprisingly got back to me right away. Just chaotic. Don’t worry about us. Have the best time.

  I will.

  Sun streamed in through the open window, but that wasn’t what made me burn. I read over the latest installment of my story. The call had come in about the trip when I wrote it, and my excitement showed. In the story, the band struggled with writer’s block. The notes of each song were bent, broken, and backward, and the band came to Lina to fix it. She took her time with each member, listening to their problems and then bringing them to climax.

  My breath caught in my throat. Everyone had made it clear that the guys were aware of my stories. But why did they invite me here? I was far from a journalist. I didn’t consider myself a professional writer. I didn’t bother with editing, and my readers would message me if they found any typos. It was pure emotion pouring onto the page. Maybe the band thought I could capture some of that excitement in my account of the weekend. When Casey got back, I’d ask her what she expected.

  But right now, I was writing, and it felt good. Music slipped into my bungalow. Like my stories, it wasn’t perfect. The guys were learning as they went too. I’d opened a new document and imagined myself—I meant LinaLu—standing outside the studio. She didn’t like what she heard, and the band was shocked. She was hard on them often, not to be a bitch but because she wanted them to bring their absolute best work into the world.

  My towel slipped away from my body as I typed. My own nakedness startled me. Alina and LinaLu were light years apart when it came to how comfortable they were with their own bodies. The hasty knot I’d fastened when I’d stepped out of the shower didn’t even last until the end of the next sentence.

  Fuck it. It was time for my real life to start mirroring my online persona. LinaLu would totally sunbathe naked. This was my c
hance to live my fantasies.

  In the story, LinaLu brought recording to a screeching halt. The band hated displeasing her and would do anything to make it up to her. Todd fell to his knees in front of Lina, placing his hand on her calf. I closed my eyes, my exposed pussy tingling as I pictured the scene. Lina wore a bathing suit—of course, she had a bikini body—and only had a sarong covering the rest.

  I ran my hand over my bare body, imagining the path that Todd would take as he tried to please Lina. My breathing was ragged, and as I opened my heavy-lidded eyes, I was surprised that I didn’t leave sparks in my wake. I was so turned on for the first time in a long time, so free.

  I put the computer aside. For inspiration, of course. I imagined Todd’s voice in my head, his rough warm hands roaming over Lina’s body. I imagined him to be a boob guy. I palmed my heavy breast and pinched the nipple until it hardened into a tight nub.

  “Alina?” Holy shit. That was Todd. Not in my imagination. He stood in the doorway of my bungalow, clutching the doorknob.

  I jumped, grabbing for the towel. I was somewhere between fantasy and a reality I wasn’t familiar with. The damn towel wasn’t cooperating, and it was much easier to cover myself with my arms.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize. Judging by the way Todd’s gazed lured me in with an entirely different kind of heat—one full of reverence and desire—he wasn’t sorry he’d found me like that.

  He could’ve closed the door and walked away. But he didn’t. He wanted me to know I was caught.

  “Damn, you’re gorgeous.” His voice was low, and I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear that. He shook his head, like he was coming back from his own daydream.

  I could’ve invited him over and asked him to finish the job. To run his hands all over my body and dip his fingers into my hot, slick folds so he could see how ready I was for him. For more. That’s what LinaLu would’ve done. But Alina had to spend the entire weekend with this man, and it could make things extremely awkward if he shot me down.

  Todd cleared his throat. “I did knock. I came over to let you know we finished early and we wanted to invite you to have a drink with us before dinner.”

  I nodded. A drink was either the best or worst idea ever. “Sounds good.”

  “We meet up on the other side of the studio. I’m sure you’ll hear us before you see us.” Todd’s gaze had yet to leave my body. “And Alina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.” He turned and closed the door behind him.

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  Untitled

  Stripped by the Professor

  Britt

  I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t need the money.

  That’s what I kept telling myself over and over in my head, a mantra that I repeated as I slid into the shockingly tight rubber bustier. One of the girls, Jade, an experienced regular here at the Silver Dollar Club, had taught me a trick to ease into it. She’d applied talcum powder softly along my naked skin so I slipped into the rubber garment as easily as a seal sliding off a dock.

  But still, I felt ridiculous.

  It wasn’t me. I stared into the huge mirror attached to the make-up vanity backstage and puffed up my bright red curls a little. Just the act of getting into the bustier had made me break out into a sweaty sheen that dragged my thick hair down, and I wasn’t even due to dance for five more songs.

  What are you doing? I asked myself, exhaling loudly and letting my lips flap together like my old saddle horse back on the ranch at home.

  I’d come a long way, from being raised in the middle of nowhere by a religious family to the big city, pursuing an education of my own.

  Having been homeschooled, I’d been unable to get my high school diploma before I finally left home. For the last year I’d taken classes and finally finished all my high school exams through the adult learning annex near the restaurant I’d waitressed at, but now it was time for the big leagues.

  College.

  Real higher education, and that was costly. Low wages and crappy tips weren’t going to cover my tuition, so here I was.

  “Oh my god, Britt, you look hot, hot,hot, girlfriend!”

  I turned away from the mirror and let Dusty throw her arms around me. We’d waited tables together until she’d started dancing here and had finally talked me into quitting my job and following her over when she’d waved fat rolls of cash under my nose.

  “And this is just from three nights of dancing,” she’d bragged at the time. “With your perky tits and gorgeous, thick hair, you’ll make way more than me!”

  I’d blushed a hot, bright red at the time, but still, all that cash. I hadn’t been able to say no.

  College classes started tomorrow. I’d paid ten percent down on my tuition to hold my spot, but the remainder was due within a month. Dusty promised me I’d make it easily before then, twenty grand at least.

  “Thanks. So do you.” I wasn’t lying. I looked my friend up and down. Usually a tomboy in loose jeans and a looser hoodie, she looked like a fairy tale dream pixie in her green dress and glittery gold body paint tonight.

  “Are you ready? Do you remember everything I’ve taught you?” Her eyes flashed so bright. Her excitement was catchy.

  “I…I think so.”

  “No. You know so. You are hot, you are sexy, and you are going to go out there and fucking slam it, girlfriend.” She pushed me toward the stage door. “You’re up after this. Get ready!”

  And before I knew it, she’d shoved me through the door and right onto the stage where I tottered down to the end, grabbed the slick metal pole, struck a pose, fluttered my fake lashes against the bright lights, and prepared to dance like my future depended on it.

  Because it really did.

  Lock

  “So, thanks to the sudden departure of our esteemed colleague, your request for tenure has been granted,” Dr. Phillips, the head of my department, announced at the end of a brief meeting in his office.

  He’d called me in to discuss the upcoming course load, and I hadn’t expected this at all. I mean, I expected it because I’d busted my ass publishing, researching, and doing everything it took to make it in academia, but I hadn’t expected it because I was only thirty-six, making me the youngest faculty member by at least a decade. Or two.

  “Oh, thank you. I don’t know the details surrounding Mark leaving us, but I suppose I won’t question them now.”

  “He was caught sleeping with his graduate student.” Dr. Phillips leaned toward me across his broad oak desk. “I can tell you that now that you’re one of us. He was banging her like a broken door every chance he got. His wife found out, turned him in, and he was brought in front of the ethics committee.”

  “This was his first time though,” I said, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to know anything about it. But it was a small campus—everybody knew everybody’s business.

  “Come on, Lock.” Dr. Phillips smirked. “You know how politically charged the world is right now. There’s no way we could let this slide. If that student had let it out that she’d been sexually harassed by her professor, enrollment would plummet, and shit would get messy.”

  I nodded and listened to him talk but thought about how stupid Mark had been. He’d destroyed an exceptional academic career over some girl—how ridiculous and cliché was that?

  I managed to get away from Dr. Phillips before he talked my ear completely off. I signed all the paperwork with the HR department, and it was done. I was officially a full time, tenured professor of languages, and life seemed pretty complete.

  I strolled to my office, parked myself in my chair, and enjoyed the afternoon of congratulations from my colleagues and friends.

  Eventually, as I knew, Troy found his way down the hall, swept in, and hooted, “I knew your father’s money would come in handy sometime. So what did it take, a new wing for the library? A brand-new science building? How much did your tenure cost your old man?”

&nb
sp; I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Nothing. I did this on my own.”

  Troy smirked and I could have slapped him, but he was one of my oldest and closest friends in spite of being a grade A douche.

  “Well if that’s the case, you need to celebrate. We’re getting you laid this weekend, my friend!”

  “Classes start next week. I don’t have time for getting laid.” I hated using his terminology. It was crude. But it was Troy in a nutshell. His world revolved around his dick. How he’d managed to get a job as an assistant professor in the business department was beyond me.

  “I don’t care. I’m rounding up the usual suspects, and we’re taking you to that strip club down on Broadway.”

  “I don’t do strip clubs.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s perfect. We’re going to bust your stripper cherry at last. You’re the only guy I know who didn’t get up to no good in college or as a bachelor. It’s ridiculous—you’re loaded, you come from old school family money, and you’ve got those abs that make women fucking crazy.”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” I sighed.

  “No, you know I’m not.” He grinned and started to walk out. “Clear your schedule. I’m gonna get you some top notch pussy!”

  I cringed at his crude language yet again and shook my head. I couldn’t help but laugh though. If Troy did anything, it was keep me down to earth. Without him, I would have spent my youth with my nose in a book. Even with his influence, I barely dated. I was no virgin, but I wasn’t one for relationships either.

  Maybe a strip club wouldbe a good way to celebrate. I could have a little fun and then get back to my career.