The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series) (16 page)

“That’s. Not. Fair.” I manage, my words coming in breathy fragments.

He moves his hands to grip my ass and begins thrusting firmly up into me, driving my hips firmly down.

This is so deep.

“I have no
intention of playing fair,” he whispers as his thrusts begin to quicken.

H
e pushes a closed fist tight against my clitoris.

Oh. Wow.

He’s positioned his hand in exactly the right place that I can grind against him. Straddling him like this, I feel more womanly than I have ever felt. Any shyness I might have felt vanishes. And I push forward against his fist, moving my wetness against the ridges of his fingers.

“Ahhh!”

I am rocking my hips back and forth, taking him deep, grinding myself against him. The freedom to dictate the speed and firmness of the contact is pushing me fast to orgasm.

“You look so good up there,” says James, gazing at the full length of my body as I rock and grind. “I love looking at you pleasure yourself.”

I’m close now, but I slow, taking in the subtle movements of his face. I can see his pleasure building, and the tiny twitches of his jaw and neck as he begins to lose control. It’s so incredibly sexy to watch.

I love it up here.

James’s lips part slightly, and he lets out a low moan.

Unable to help myself, I move faster, pushing myself against him. And then I erupt in hot sexy waves of pleasure, deep in the rush of controlling the pace.

“Ahhhh!” Underneath me, I feel James come, and I roll rhythmically with him, extracting every ounce of pleasure from his body.

“
Issy!” moans James. “Don’t stop!”

I continue moving, rocking and pushing myself down onto him.
I feel him slow beneath me, spent. And then I collapse forward in a juddering heap, my mouth on his.

He kisses me, in long languid movements.

“That was just incredible,” he murmurs. “Will you ever stop surprising me?”

“I could say the same thing for you,” I retort, thinking of the hairbrush.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his warm body.

I breathe in, taking the smell of hi
m deep into my lungs.

“D
id you like it?” I ask tentatively. “Me being in control?”

Maybe Mr Old-Fashioned
is taking a break.

His mouth widens in a predatory grin.

“Let’s just say, we could try it out more often.”

I grin back. His face says it all.

“Then you don’t mind if I’m not submissive?” I ask.

To my surprise
, he looks shocked.

“When are you ever submissive?”

I look at him in confusion. “When we… you know.” I blush.

He grins again. “I didn’t fall in love with you because you are weak and submissive,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. “I fell in love with you because you are so strong.”

Oh.

“And what we do when we’re having sex,” he adds, “isn’t a reflection of our relationship outside the bedroom.”

Isn’t it? This is something for me to think about.

“Now, Princess Leia,” says
James with a wicked glint in his eye, “we’d better get you dressed. We don’t want to be late for the party.”

Chapter 22

The party is held in one of the studios – an enormous building which contains the full ballroom set.

I raise an eyebrow at James as he escorts me to the main entrance. Two burning braziers have been set up, giving the plain studio entrance a dramatic look. And catering staff wait at the door, handing out glasses of
Champagne to arriving guests.

“Isn’t this a bit much?” I ask. “It’s only the cast and crew.” By my reckoning
, the full guest list only amounts to fifty people.

“They can bring guests,” says James. “And besides, I’ve let everyone loose on my costume department. It would be a shame not to showcase the outfits.”

I smile at him.

“Trust you to put on such a fancy event.”

He grins at me. “You haven’t seen inside yet.”

James rests his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the entrance. And it occurs to me that we haven’t discussed how to play this. Are we arriving as a couple? James is certainly acting like we are.

In the warm pride of having him at my side, the last thing I want to do is contradict him.

We enter the main studio, and as the interior comes into view, our dynamics are temporarily forgotten. I make a little thrilled gasp.

Whoa!

“It’s a casino!” I turn to James in delight.

The last time I saw inside this studio, it was an elaborate ballroom set. Now it’s a vision of glitzy
Vegas glamour.

I stare out, taking in the array of glittering additions. The ballroom set is stil
l evident, and the art deco set comprises the main décor.

But above, t
he ceiling has been draped with dark fabric, pinpricked with white lights, giving the impression of an endless starry sky. And on the dance floor are roulette, craps and card gaming tables set in plush green baize.

Smartly dressed croupiers stand at each table, sliding gaming chips and conducting skilled three deck shuffling.

“How did you do this?” My smile is threatening to split my face.

“I didn’t,” says James
modestly. “I just know the right people to delegate to.”

Most of the cast and crew are already here, and I take in the array of colourful outfits. There’s every imaginable kind
of dress, from James Bond suits to sorceresses. And because they’ve been plundered from the costume department, they’re good enough quality to make the event seem slightly surreal.

I spot a cowboy in heavy, worn-in leather chaps, rough linen shirt, and a very
genuine-looking gun attached to his holster. He’s talking to a wicked witch in a scarily realistic prosthesis and hand-made hobnail boots.

“People are certainly adventurous with their outfits at studio parties,” I observe as an Aztec king walks past with a gold headdress.

“That’s showbiz for you,” says James. “When you’re in an industry which attracts show-offs, everyone goes all out for fancy dress.”

How right he is.

To my relief, there are a fair few people in even more revealing outfits than me. There’s a Spartan warrior in a loin cloth, a tanned girl in a Baywatch bikini, and I spot a Playboy bunny cheering over a double six dice throw.

Everyone is talking excitedly and getting stuck
in to the gaming tables. I notice Kristy, with her huge princess dress and Cinderella wig, and wave my hand.

James’s
arm drops away, and he steps back a little. So we’re walking side by side. Like friends.

My eyes turn to him questioningly.

“I’ll make the announcement when everyone arrives,” he says. “In the meantime, we probably shouldn’t give too much away.”

I smile uncertainly, though I
feel uneasy at the thought of being publicly announced. The idea of everyone’s eyes on me, knowing James and I are romantically involved, is too embarrassing for words.

Remember Issy. It’s for James you’re doing this.

The thought brings a new degree of calm. I would do so much for this man. A little public awkwardness is nothing in comparison.

A waitress offers us drinks from a tray, and James hands me a glass of Champagne.

I take a breath and a steadying sip.

My eyes sweep the room, looking for familiar faces.
Kristy has seen me now, and I see her eyes widen.

Her mouth moves in the shape of my name, and then she heads towards us.

“My goodness,” she says as she closes in. Her make-up is perfect Disney Cinderella, complete with a heart-shaped pink pout and little dashes of permanently-surprised eyebrows. “Let me guess,” she adds, “Natalie talked you into this outfit?”

I laugh. “Exactly right.”

“You look great,” says Kristy. “And you fit right in now, Issy. As you can see, showbiz folk take no prisoners when it comes to making an exhibition of ourselves.”

She inclines her head towards a Big Bird in the middle distance. Then her eyes slide to James.

“Hello there Mr B,” she says, eyeing him coyly through long lashes. “You scrub up well. James Dean?”

James nods, looking distr
acted. Kristy’s smile drops a little. It’s a resigned gesture, like she’s used to this level of disinterest from him.

“You look great too,” I say, trying to make up for James’s coolness.

Kristy’s face flicks back and forth between the two of us, as if trying to assess the dynamic.

Oh dear. Is it that obvious?

I have a sudden thought that perhaps I’m making a laughable charade. Everything about the way I stand and look at James must make it plain how I feel about him. And though James has removed his arm from my waist, his whole body language is overtly protective towards me.

It doesn’t matter.
I remind myself.
Everyone will know in a few minutes
.

“Excuse me,” says James curtly, “I have a little party business to attend to.”

He steps away from us, and I watch him head to the stage.

“Issy!” I hear a familiar voice behind me, and turn to see Camilla and Callum.

Whoa! Camilla!

Her
finished Poison Ivy outfit is off-the-scale stunning. I feel my eyes widening, mesmerised by her appearance.

“Camilla!” My voice
has risen about three octaves in shock. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

She laughs and looks down, a little bashful. Which is in total contrast to the full-on sex kitten before me.

I’d seen her make-up and cat-suit. But the final touches to the Poison Ivy outfit have lifted it to another level. Camilla looks like a being from a distant planet, her waif-figure showcased to perfection inside the skin-tight suit.

Her large blue eyes blink out from behind sultry make-up and heavy false lashes. Great curls of red hair are
woven in top knots and tumble around her face.

Ivy is wrapped provocatively up and down her body, finishing in leafy tendrils which highlight her lean waist and high breasts.

Compared to some of the other guest, she has a lot of clothes on. But to my mind, she is hands-down the sexiest and most provocatively dressed girl here.

I put my hands on her shoulders, holding her slightly at length so I can stare at her outfit.

“You look
hot
,” I say.

From behind Camilla, Callum grins.

“Doesn’t she?” he says. “I’ve been telling her the whole way here, she should be careful. She might not get out alive, dressed like that.”

Callum wears an Indiana Jones outfit with dusty desert pants, a battered Stetson, and coiled whip at his waist.

“Great outfit,” I say, taking him in. “Where’s Will?”

Callum shakes his head sadly.

“Will hates fancy dress. He says he’ll leave us show-boating acting types to it. He’d rather have an early night and call his wife.”

I laugh. “That sounds like Will.”

“Hey Issy,” says a shy voice.

I turn my gaze
in confusion. The soft tones don’t match the face I’m used to.

It’s Natalie, but without any of her entourage.
She looks surprisingly vulnerable.

“Hey Natalie!” I put my arm out, drawing her into the group. “
Great to see you. No staff with you tonight?”

She moves
towards my arm gratefully.

“Uh. No.” Natalie looks down. “No
, just me.” Despite my attempts to draw her in, she’s hanging back a little, clearly nervous to join the group.

Natalie Ennis. Shy at big
gatherings. Who knew?

In many ways
, it makes total sense. Natalie was pushed into the Hollywood scene at a young age and used drugs to cope. No wonder she’s finding it hard.

“
I gave ‘em the night off,” she adds, looking up with a shy smile. “So it’s just me. Tonight.”

“Well, welcome
, just you,” says Callum warmly, his kind nature leaping to Natalie’s aid. “Come on in.” He grabs her by the waist and draws her right into the group.

Natalie
allows herself to be guided, smiling, and clearly relieved.

“You all look great,”
says Natalie, standing a little straighter.

“So do you,” I say.

Natalie is dressed in the baggy Brando pants, which have been pinned at the bottom. Her feet wear black and white wing-tips, and a linen shirt with braces covers her top half.

The look is completed with
the Tommy-gun and the little fedora I found her, with her copper hair coming poker-straight from under it. Her make-up is understated, as though she’s making a point. She doesn’t want to be centre of attention tonight.

“Ladies and Gentleman!” A voice from a microphone suddenly grabs ou
r attention.

James!

“I have a few announcements to make.”

I turn to see he has taken the small ballroom stage and is holding a microphone.

Instantly, he has everyone’s attention. Only seconds before, party-goers had been drinking, gambling, and generally enjoying themselves. But something about James’s voice compels you to listen.

“Firstly,” he says, “
a little fun for the evening. As you know, I’m a terrible slave-driver, and I want you all fresh for tomorrow.”

This brings a little wave of laughter.

“So I’ve introduced a rule for the gaming tables.” He pauses. “At midnight, all bets placed will be a bonus pay-out,” he says. “Winners will be paid out, not just their bets, but the value of all bets won on that table tonight.”

I see people smiling at this
.

“So you all need to be paying cl
ose attention to the clock,” adds James. “Hopefully that should encourage you to drink a little less and gamble a little more.”

He grins.

“Next,” he adds, “I want to introduce a new member of our family.” James stares out into the crowd, locating.

I see his eyes light on a young man.

“Bradley, come up to the stage.” He beckons.

A tall young man makes the few steps up onto the stage. He’s dressed as an elf warrior, with pointed ears and a sheaf of arrows at his back. I recognise the character from Lord of the Rings.

He has shoulder length brown hair and even features which would be typical ‘nice-guy’ if it wasn’t for a mischievous glint to his hazel eyes.

Beside me I feel Camilla tense. I turn to see her staring, transfixed at the actor.

Oooooh. Camilla likes him.

I make a mental note to try and set them up.

I’d place him as young. No older than twenty-two. And I’m guessing he’s not all that comfortable up on the stage.

Bradley
takes the mic and gives an uncertain wave. But when he speaks, he sounds incredibly confidant. Far more than I thought he would be.

“Hello everyone,”
Bradley says. His accent is soft Welsh.

“It’s lovely to be here,” he
continues, “and see all the outfits.” Bradley gives a wide grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party with such good fancy dress,” he adds, “so I know I must have hit the big time.”

There’s a ripple of laughter.
Camilla laughs so loudly, she seems to take herself by surprise. I look at her and her blue eyes rest on mine.

He’s hot
, she mouths.

I smile at her. “You’ll get to meet him soon,” I promise.

“Anyway,” adds Bradley. “I hope I’ll get to speak to most of you before the evening is out. And if I’m still here at three in the morning, if someone would be kind enough to tell me to go home and stop talking bollocks, I’d appreciate it.”

This brings a roar of laughter, and as Bradley hands the microphone back to James, the crowd gives him a round of appreciative applause.