PORN STAR
Dark Desires Series, #1
By Zara Cox
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Zara
Cox brings her self-published novel to Forever as the start of a sexy new
series.
People call me many
things: CEO, billionaire, bastard. Q.
I love women. I love sex.
I love money. I love hot, wild nights with no promise of a future, because a
future is one thing I don't have. I'm twenty-eight years old. I won't live to
see thirty, and I don't care. Or I didn't, until her.
Nobody plans for a life
like this. Some of us just end up here.
They call me Lucky, though
luck has never been on my side. Before I met Q, my life was a big, twisted
mess. Never enough money, never anyone to trust. No way out. With Q, the shame
and fear disappear. Instead I feel pure pleasure, and that's something I've
never had before. But if what I've just learned is true, we'd better enjoy
every second together while we can...before our time runs out.
Previously published as I, Porn Star.
On Sale: September 13, 2016
Publisher: Forever
eBook: $4.99 USD
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Excerpt:
“So it’s true? It’s not a con?
This job really pays a million dollars? For…sex?” she rasps.
“You think I’d admit it if it was
a con? What did the ad say?”
Her delicate jaw flexes for a
second.
“One million
uninhibited reasons to take a leap.
One million
chances to earn a keep
One million to give
in to the carnal
Are you brave
enough to surrender,
For a payday to
remember?”
It speaks even more to her
desperate state of mind that she remembers the ad verbatim.
I remain silent and wait for her
to speak.
“So…assuming it’s not a con, how will this work, then?”
“If you pass the next few tests,
and I decide you’re a good fit, you get the gig. You’ll receive one hundred
thousand dollars with each performance.”
“So…ten performances…over how long
a period?”
“Depending on how many takes are
needed, anywhere between three weeks and a month. But I should warn you, it’s hard
work, Lucky. If you think you’re just going to lie back and recite the Star
Spangled Banner in your head, think again.”
Her fingers drum on the table, the
first sign of nerves she’s exhibited. “I…I won’t be doing anything…skanky, will
I?”
“Define skanky.”
“This is going to be straight up
sex. No other…bodily stuff? Because that would a firm no for me.”
My mouth attempts another twitch.
“No water works, waste matter or bestiality will be involved in the
performances.”
Her fingers stop drumming. “Okay.”
She waits a beat, stares straight into the camera. “So when will I know?”
I hear the barely disguised
urgency and I rub my finger over my lip again. “Soon. I’ll be in touch within
the week.” I’m not sure exactly why I want to toy with her. But I sense that having
her on edge would add another layer of excitement I badly need.
When she opens her mouth, I
interrupt. “Goodbye, Lucky.”
A passing thought about the origin
of her name is crushed into oblivion. I press the remote to summon the
bodyguard to escort her out, and I leave the room.
In my study a few minutes later, I
bring up the screen on my desk and activate the encrypted service I need. I
open the application and within minutes, the members of my exclusive
gentlemen’s club are logging in.
My email is short and succinct.
The next Q Production
is scheduled for release on 20 May 2015.
Limited to ten
members.
Bidding starts in fifteen
minutes.
I start the countdown and rise to
pour myself a neat bourbon. I swallow the first mouthful with two prescribed
tablets, which are meant to keep me from going over the edge, apparently, and
stroll to the floor to ceiling window. I look down at Midtown’s
bumper-to-bumper traffic. This mid-level penthouse is one of many I own in this
building and around New York City.
Technically, I don’t live here. I
only use it when volatile pressures demand that I put some distance between the
Upper West Side family mansion and myself. I would never stray far for long.
For one thing, I’ve accepted that my family would never leave me alone.
I know what I know. So they’ve
made it their business to keep me on a short leash. But with over three hundred
properties in my personal portfolio, and a few thousand more under the family
firm’s control, there are many places to disappear to when the demons howl.
Today, the Midtown penthouse is my
temporary haven.
I turn when the timer beeps a
one-minute warning.
I return to my desk and adjust the
voice distorter. When the clock reaches zero, I click the mouse. “Gentlemen,
start your bids.”
My words barely trail off before
the first five bids appear on the screen. Sixty seconds later, the total bid is
at a quarter of a million dollars. I steeple my fingers and wish I were more
excited. The money means nothing. It never has. It’s the end game that excites
me.
My mind drifts back to Lucky. I
turn the gem of her elusiveness this way and that and admit to myself she has
potential.
I want to take a scalpel to all
her secrets, bleed them and soil my hands with the viscera. I also want to fuck
her until her body gives out. Right in this moment, I’m not sure what I want
more.
So I concentrate on the numbers
racing higher on the screen.
Half a million. One million. One
point five.
My phone beeps twice. I pick it up
and read the two appointment reminders on the screen.
7pm – Dr. Nathanson. My shrink.
9pm - Dinner with
Maxwell.
I re-confirm the first and delete
the second.
Cancelling dinner with Maxwell
will bring a world of irritation to my doorstep. No one cancels dinner with
Maxwell Blackwood. For a start he’s one of the most powerful men in the
country.
He’s also my father.
Yeah, my name is Quinn Blackwood,
heir to the Blackwood Estate, only child of Maxwell Blackwood and Adele
Blackwood (deceased). My family owns a staggering amount of property across the
eastern seaboard of the United States and a few in the west. According to the
bean counters, I’m personally worth twenty-six billion dollars.
But tangling with my father in
hell is what I live for. Have done since I was fifteen. So I ignore his summons
and watch the stragglers fall away until I’m left with the top ten bidders. The
bids wind down, and within the space of half an hour, I’m just under two
million dollars richer.
I spot the familiar name of the
top bidder and I sneer. Taking his money on top of everything else is darkly
satisfying.
Once bidding ends, I close down
the application and call up another list. Dozens of charity websites showing
pictures of starving children flood my screen. Within minutes, fifty charities
are the grateful recipients of two million dollars.
I may be Quinn Blackwood,
occasional user of prescribed meds to keep the demons in check, who moonlights
as Q, porn star to an exclusive
few who pay millions for my work.
And I may be an unhinged asshole
with serious daddy issues.
But no one said I wasn’t a giver.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Zara Cox has been writing
for almost twenty-five years but it wasn't until nine years ago that she
decided to share her love of writing sexy, gritty stories with anyone outside
her close family (the over 18s anyway!). This series is Zara's next step in her
erotic romance-writing journey, and she would love to hear your thoughts.
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