Episode 4: Ambiance
ambiance: The feeling or mood of a particular scene or setting.
His arm looped around her neck and tightened, making it hard for Tallulah to scream, but she tried at it anyway. It was a breathless exclamation of her desperation. She tried to steady her gaze on the geometric light fixture above, but her whole body jerked each time his cock speared upward into her pussy hard and slow.
Her breasts jiggled to the rhythm Nick orchestrated.
Her back rested on his chest. A reverse cowgirl half-complete because he wanted to take the reins.
Nick squeezed her throat a little tighter and she sputtered a gasp as he showed her exactly how he wanted this to happen. All she could do was enjoy it, but Nick was cruel and used his free hand to toy with her clit as he fucked her from his spot beneath her.
He tormented the throbbing bud with hard tight circles to compliment his punishing thrusts and loose lazy ones to keep her teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Sometimes, he sandwiched her fleshy hood in between his forefinger and thumb, gliding it up and down her swollen clit hiding inside.
Tallulah’s head was dizzy from his chokehold and the unbearable pleasure that stirred and brewed with nowhere to go, but even after all these years, Nick always knew her breaking point and only ever dished out what she could handle.
Today, however, they were tiptoeing a dangerous line.
Even though she loved it, she hated he wouldn’t let her cum.
Not yet.
Nick would not give her the satisfaction until he deemed so.
She knew he was furious with her and maybe this was his way of getting back at her. A punishment he cunningly made her embrace.
It would take a lot more than angry sex to repair their trust in each other and co-parent their son, but she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that getting her brains fucked out of her ears by Nick was the most phenomenal sex she had in years.
“Please,” she gasped.
Rolling his hips upward sharp and deep to bottom out her pussy, he grunted in her ear, “What’s that?”
She squealed at the sudden switch in tempo and depth before she pleaded, “Please, Nick.”
“Please?” He repeated amusingly for clarification, his fingertips rubbing her clit from side to side. She didn’t need to take a gander at his face to know he was smiling.
She nodded vigorously, meeting him thrust for thrust.
With a chuckle, he wondered, “You want to cum? Is that what you want?”
“Mm-hm,” Tallulah hummed desperately. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as his cock moved in and out of her faster, his rhythm on her clit quickening as well.
“You think you deserve it? You think you earned it?”
Did she deserve it? No, but she needed it as badly as she needed the air he also was depriving her of.
Rocking her hips needily as he pounded into her from below, she croaked, “Give it to me, Nick. No more, no more.”
Finally, he gave into her pleas, intensifying his strokes and pinching at her clit as the final push she needed.
His chokehold tightened around her throat and she gagged out her cry as a heady rush of pure gratification tore through her, her pussy squeezing his cock. His release arrived just after hers. He let out a drawn-out groan as he emptied himself into a condom.
Tallulah’s body quivered as she struggled for breath and struggled to make sense of what in the hell just happened.
His arm slipped off her neck, granting her freedom. She moved off him, flopping into an empty spot beside him. His crumpled gray bedsheets blanketed the tail-end of her backside. Their sweat shimmered in the early afternoon sunlight.
Nick leaned over, placing a kiss on her nape. She shuddered softly, goosebumps spreading across her flesh.
“Still resilient as ever, Diamond,” he said before he got off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom to throw away the condom.
Diamond was the ‘bedroom name’ he used to call her when they were married. No matter how much pressure he laid on her, she never cracked on him. She could handle everything he had to give and more.
Nick’s kind of fucking wasn’t for everyone, but back then and even now, it was still just right for her.
The corner of her lips lifted slightly at the old nickname.
Nick ambled into the bedroom, stretching his arms over his head. “That was an unexpected but very satisfying detour.”
Tallulah snorted, lifting her tired head to look over her shoulder. “Don’t act as if you hadn’t planned this all along. You booked the babysitter until eight tonight. That’s quite a few hours away. What exactly were you expecting we'd do until then?”
“There’s still much to be discussed,” he said as he padded over to the bed. “Juan will be here in an hour.”
She nestled her cheek against a wonderfully soft pillow. “Your awaited fluffer, I presume?”
“My publicity agent,” he corrected with a smirk as he slipped back into bed, settling directly beside her when there was plenty of room to leave an ocean between them.
Sneakily, he crept an arm along her waist and nestled in close from behind her, burying his nose into her hair. A lazy fingertip traced invisible shapes into her back.
Was he trying to start some post-coital cuddling?
Tallulah sluggishly sat up, turning halfway to peer at him. “What are you doing, Nicholas?”
He grinned tiredly, his Kentucky accent shining through. “I thought it was pretty fuckin’ obvious, Ray. Generally, after soul-snatchin’ sex, people tend to cuddle.”
“I don’t think you understand the concept of nothing more,” she said, rolling her eyes, “and no cuddling falls under it.”
She climbed out of the bed and collected her discarded bra, putting it on. “Now, that we’ve got this out of our systems, we can focus on Milo and the film.”
Tucking his arms behind his head, he inquired, “Who says I’ve gotten it out of my system?”
Tallulah froze for a moment, letting his words sink in and fantasies run wild. All too-vivid images of a rough quickie before his publicity agent’s arrival flashed across her mind. She cleared her throat and shook her head to shoo those thoughts away, clasping her bra hooks.
“If that’s the case, you have a hand and I’m sure you know what to do with it,” she scoffed as she rounded the bed to find her panties, slipping back into them, “and if that’s not enough for you, you can ring up one of your little girlfriends when I’m gone.”
“You telling me this is an ‘one and done’ kind of deal, Desiree?”
Tallulah shrugged on her wrap dress and knotted the tie tight, replying, “You are accurate, Mr. Bryant.”
“Hm,” he hummed pensively.
Her narrowed eyes fell upon him, not liking the sound at all.
It felt like a polite alternative to ‘yeah right, sweetheart.’
He didn’t believe her.
“I mean it, Nicholas.”
“I’m sure you do, Desiree,” he yawned.
She clenched her jaw, sitting on the edge of the bed to put her wedges back on. However, as she belted her ankle straps, a brewing annoyance nagged at her. Finally, she looked over her shoulder.
“You seriously don’t believe me.”
He returned, “In all honesty, Ray, I don’t even think you believe yourself.”
“Or you’re just full of yourself,” Tallulah laughed. “You think because the rest of the female population wants to screw you over and over that I do too? Come on, Nicholas. You need to give me more credit than that. I mean what I say and I say what I mean.”
She rose, tugging at her outfit’s hemline. “Now, can you please get dressed, so we can air out the smell of sex we reek of on the patio before your publicist gets here?”
Nick sighed heavily as he got out of the bed in all his nude glory, moving past her to go into his closet that probably rivaled in size her apartment. “Even if we ‘air out’ on the patio, your ‘fucked real good’ hair might still be a tipoff to Juan. He’s real perceptive like that.”
Tallulah’s eyes grew wide and a defensive hand shot to her messy hair as she scurried into his bathroom, half-tempted to clobber him with her wedge as he chuckled lightly at her expense. Natural light flooded into the spacious bathroom abundantly, perfect for her to examine how jacked up her tresses were.
She had a strong suspension most of the fault lied in how he entangled his gripping fingers in her hair as she swallowed his cock and fondled his balls during foreplay.
She grabbed a polished wood bristle brush from the counter and used it to tame her hair. Once she deemed herself presentable, she walked out of the bathroom as Nick ambled out of the closet clothed in a flamingo pink polo shirt, brown shorts, and sandals.
A pair of polarized aviator shades shielded his brilliant blue eyes from her. Even his tousled hair seemed perfect.
He looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses, aiming a suggestive grin at her. “You ready to air out?”
“Stop dicking around, Nicholas,” she said, crossing her arms.
He approached her, dipping his head low in her ear. “I stopped dicking around after you came on my cock, Desiree.”
Tallulah opened her mouth to speak, but she was unsure of what to say.
Instead, she shot him a nasty look of disapproval and followed him through the glass mansion and to the patio. Sunlight danced across the pool water’s ripples. She settled down in her seat, quickly noting the pristine patio table and the absence of their breakfast.
“Where’s everything?”
“Greta’s around here somewhere,” Nick said behind the full-fledged outdoor bar tucked away under the roof’s shade as he fixed drinks.
Tallulah blinked, a sense of dread creeping over her. “I presume Greta is your housemaid?”
“You presumed correct.”
“Would it be wrong of me to presume that Greta potentially overheard?” she trailed off, clearing her throat.
Nick paused in his task. “Would you feel better if I said she didn’t?”
She nodded. “I would.”
“Then yes, she overheard it,” he replied with a smirk as he resumed being a personal bartender.
Tallulah popped up her middle finger, glaring at him. “You’re utterly hilarious, Nicholas.”
He rounded the bar counter and approached her, offering a short glass filled with what appeared to be lemonade, muddled fresh mint, and crushed ice. “Greta has worked for me for six years. She’s used to my lifestyle and wears Bose headphones while she works. She prefers to listen to German folk songs over hearing how effective I am at satisfying my guests.”
Tallulah accepted the mixed drink, feeling slightly at ease at his assurance. “That’s good to know. Though you should’ve told me we weren’t alone in the house.”
Nick seated himself across from her and propped his feet up on the table, rising his glass as if to give her a toast. “Contrary to popular belief, the rich and famous can’t afford the luxury of being alone. Or true privacy. If you want to be successful in this business, I highly recommend you accept that, Desiree.”
Tallulah sipped her drink gingerly, contemplating the heavy truth of his words.
For as long as she had been in this industry, she never had to worry about her privacy. Who gave a fuck about the actress who showed up in deodorant and insurance ads? But being the mother of an A-lister’s child and an actress in an iconic director’s film project was bound to bring her attention.
Whether she liked it or not.
A handsome middle-aged Latino man stepped onto the patio, a scowl on his face. “I knew I’d find you out here drinking away your goddamn sense.”
Nick inclined his head, giving his publicist a two-finger salute. “Good to see you too, Juan.”
Juan locked eyes with Tallulah, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Tallulah, Juan. Juan, Tallulah,” Nick introduced lazily before he leaned his head back to down half his drink.
The two shook hands apprehensively and exchanged awkward hellos before Juan joined at the table and cut his eyes over to Nick. “You never make this easy for me, do you? It’s not exactly a walk in the park telling the world that you’ve got a whole kid.”
“But you’ll manage. You always do,” Nick said. “Your very career depends on it.”
Tallulah’s eyebrows scrunched at her ex-husband’s veiled threat.
Juan ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, first things first. We need to do a paternity test.”
“Unnecessary. The kid’s mine.”
“Look, if a kid materializes in your life overnight, the first thing the media’s gonna roll with is that she’s some chick from the past trying to scam you and the kid’s someone else’s bastard,” Juan huffed, jerking a thumb to Tallulah.
Nick slipped his shades down the bridge of his nose to get a good look at his publicist. “Is that what you think, Juan?”
“As your publicist, I must look at this from all angles. We don’t have the luxury of picking which possibilities to run with,” Juan replied. “If we don’t confirm the boy’s paternity to shush the nay-sayers, the media’s gonna pollute the public with an ugly conspiracy.”
Tallulah leaned back in her chair. “I think it’s a good idea.”
The two men peered at her in surprise.
“I don’t want anyone questioning Milo’s paternity,” she said. “We’ll do the test to put that suspicion to rest.”
Juan nodded. “Once we get the results back, we’ll sell the story to Hollywood Laundry, have them send out a photographer to catch you during a ‘down-low’ family outing, and have them plaster it everywhere. Everyone’s gonna want pictures and video of the kid with his daddy, but what they’ll want more than that is pictures of his mom, the woman who was Nick Bryant’s first love.”
“You’re gonna be public enemy #1, Tallulah,” Juan continued. “Let’s be honest, you’ve kept one of America’s favorite bachelors away from his eight-year-old son until now. The media, the fans, everyone’s gonna drag you through the mud and filth. Your appearance doesn’t help matters.”
The pain of Juan’s observations pooled in her chest, but she refused to let the two men before her notice how it affected her.
Nick growled, “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Juan.”
Tallulah straightened her back, smiling. “He’s right, Nicholas. I won’t fit what the public envisions as a woman worthy of being Nick Bryant’s baby mama.”
“But you’ll interview to tell your side,” Juan proposed, flitting nervously to Nick as if to gauge his angry client’s likeliness of firing him. “Make the masses sympathetic to your image. We’ll whip out a few old photos of you and Nick, of Milo growing up to help our cause. The paparazzi will clamber for a picture of just you in no time. We’ll need to hire security detail, so you can come and go safely from your residence.”
Nick replied gruffly, “They’ll be staying with me.”
Juan blinked before he chuckled awkwardly. “Here?”
“Yes, here.”
“That might not be for the best, Nick,” his publicist advised.
Nick bit out, “And why not?”
“The two of them staying here would give the public the impression that you and your ex-wife are back together,” Juan stated, adjusting his collar.
Noticing Nick’s brooding, Tallulah interposed politely, “Well, we wouldn’t want anyone thinking that, now would we? Milo and I can’t continue to stay where we are, so what would you recommend until we find a permanent home, Juan?”
“You two are staying here,” Nick stated.
Tallulah exhaled sharply through her nostrils. “You heard Jua—”
Nick cut her off. “I don’t give a fuck what he said. We mutually agreed that you and Milo would stay here with me and I’m holding you to it. That’s final. End of story.”
Tallulah smiled sweetly at Juan. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”
“Of course, of course.” Juan stood up and got the hell out of dodge.
Tallulah hissed through grit teeth, “Why are you so damn difficult?”
“Why are you so scared of you and Milo moving in with me?”
“I’m not scared,” she claimed. “I just want to know why are you so adamant that we stay here?”
Tallulah wasn’t scared at all. She was goddamn terrified.
Nick dropped his feet from the table and leaned in, slamming his fist down. “Because I want to give Milo the family he deserves. I want us all to eat breakfast together before he goes off to school. I want you to watch me teach him how to swim in that pool. You two have been a family for eight years, Desiree. Eight long years. Is it wrong of me to want to be a part of that?”
She cut her eyes away and hugged herself as guilt ate away at her.
“Alright, we’ll stay here.”
