Erotica Harem

Title: Zoe’s Return
Chapter: Chapter Five
Author: Pat
Plot: Zoe is revealing more about why she doesn’t want to get involved with Kevin. Something to do with a previous relationship. Kevin is becoming more persistant and harder for her to resist.
Style & Voice: Still the same.
Referencing: Same
Scene/Setting: Zoe’s hotel room. Pat describes the basic layout and the balcony clearly. Also describes what the room would look like after a writer’s been neglecting everything but a story for a week. I especially like the part about the overflowing ashtrays. That’s something a smoker would definitely have near their computer.
Characters: Zoe is still coming across as a hesitant, apprehensive woman who’s went through something life-changing in her lifetime. Kevin is still coming across as very persistent and eager to get his way. Dominic is mentioned again although it isn’t clear yet what his role is.
Grammar: Few small corrections.
Just My Personal Opinion: Still interested! J

Corrections:

Chapter Four

A Week(week doesn’t need to be capitalized) later, Zoë crawled out of the mental cave she inhabited when deep into a new project. This new idea came to her the night of the premier party and she spent the better part of the past five days working on it. She now had over two hundred pages of sometimes brilliant, sometimes static prose along with legal pads full of notes, descriptions, and full scenes; a good five day’s work. Now she lit a cigarette, drew the curtains and the sliding glass doors open, and stepped out onto the balcony of her fifteenth floor room.
Brilliant afternoon sunlight lit the concrete canyon of LA through a thin layer of smog. In the distance, the tiny ribbon of the Pacific Ocean winked between towering skyscrapers. She put out her cigarette in the decorative ashtray on the glass-topped wooden table and strolled back into her suite.
Once again, the opulence astonished her. Decorated in expensive elegance(,) in various shades of blue and maple, the suite contained a bedroom, bathroom, and a sitting room much larger and far more luxurious than anything Zoë would have rented. The production company paid the expenses so she shrugged it off as an attempt to impress her. Upon arrival six months earlier, Zoë gave the rooms a quick glance, dropped her suitcase and backpack full of office supplies on the expensive leather sofa, slid her laptop on an antique writing desk she had no clue the identity of, and thrown herself into work.{Too many spaces up above between her. and Upon)
During the past five days, she paid no attention to her surroundings. Now she swept her gaze around the rooms and decided the housekeeper, temporarily banned form(from) the room, wouldn’t have a heart attack. Zoë didn’t wince at the dust or the overflowing ashtray next to her computer. She wanted a shower, coffee, and a beer—with pizza.
The thought brought a vivid(,) detailed memory of her meeting with Kevin Reed at the party. Immersed in her work, she completely forgot his existence. As though a veil lifted, he swam into her mind with crystal clarity; his looks, the strength of his arms, and the shocking sensations of his lips on hers, his hands on her. Her skin retained the imprint of his hard body pressed to hers, his powerful arousal igniting a fierce need in her.
She shook her head and picked up the phone. Poking(pressing might sound a bit better here) a finger on the ‘0’ button, she waited only a scant second before the concierge answered.
“This is Zoë Adams. I want a pot of very strong black coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich plate. If I’m still in the shower, just leave it on the table. The housekeeper can come in anytime.”
“Of course, Ms. Adam,” the concierge replied in a conciliatory tone.
Apparently used to the eccentricities and selfish ways of celebrities, he had not asked questions a week earlier when she requested that no one disturb her, not even housekeepers or phone calls and messages. He took her request in stride, (and) agreed with everything she asked, including daily deliveries of snacks, coffee and beer for the mini-bar, to be left outside the door for her convenient retrieval.
Unused to such ready acquiescence to her unusual, in her mind, requests, she apologized profusely. He assured her he routinely received far more eccentric demands and would happily oblige her.
Zoë smirked and hung up the phone. More than likely, the man wouldn’t have batted an eye if she asked him to send up a good-looking man for her pleasure. She grabbed a cold bottle of imported German beer from the mini-bar refrigerator and strolled into the bathroom. A swift glance in the mirror drew a pained grimace. The oily tangled mess of her hair hung in a drooping pony tail. Her clothes had definitely seen cleaner days and the stench rivaled that of a sewer treatment plant. She winced, peeled off her clothes, and stepped into the hottest shower her body tolerated.
Thirty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom swaddled in the hotel bathrobe with her hair wrapped turban-style in a thick fluffy towel. The aroma of strong black coffee filled the sitting room, teasing her nose. Savoring the mouthwatering scent, she grabbed her large insulated mug off the desk, made a beeline to the table, and poured coffee. Steam curled up from the mug in streams, drawing an appreciative sniff from her.
She glanced at the silver tray on the table and her stomach growled. Next to the silver coffee pot lay a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches cut diagonally in four pieces. A stack of pink message slips drew her eye, the top one form(from) her agent. She sighed and reached for a piece of sandwich. Reality would(could) wait until her stomach stopped growling at her.
In the comfort of the sitting area, she ate both sandwiches and finished every drop of coffee. No longer a cave-dwelling hermit, she picked up the stack of messages and carried them to the desk. As she flipped through them, she sorted the papers into stacks by individual names. Three came from her agent, two from Hillary, and at least ten at a rate of two a day from Kevin.
Just reading his name on a slip of paper brought his image into her mind. She closed her eyes on a deep breath, picturing him without effort. Desire flared in his dark eyes. Her lips tingled at the memory of his kisses. Her body burned and her pussy clenched as though he stood flush against her once more.
“No,” she said aloud, determined to avoid him.
That path led to subjugation and horror. She would never again set her life aside, her needs and aspirations, for a man. Nor would she get stuck in a terrifying bloody trap straight out of a nightmare. Once had been enough. Zoë shook her head and pushed the actor’s messages into a neat pile and tucked them under the corner of her laptop. She blinked and stared. Why didn’t she throw them away? Her hand curled into a fist, relaxed again, but she didn’t reach for the messages. Instead she grabbed the phone and dialed her agent’s number from memory.
After nearly twenty minutes talking about her new project, brimming with enthusiasm, Zoë returned Hillary’s call. She let the producer override her weak protests and agreed to meet her for lunch the next day in the hotel dining room. She needed to plan on going home soon.
It’s time to come home, Zoë. Dominic’s words slithered into her mind, jolting back to the nightmares she had not experienced all week. Her stomach churned and shivers zipped up her spine. Fear spiked her blood.
No. She shook her head. No. I can’t.
Her stricken gaze dropped to the stack of messages under her laptop. Part of her wanted to call him. Aside from lust and the terror of returning to Locke Ridge, she had no reason to contact him. Lust must be avoided at all costs. Her life belonged to her now and she meant to keep it that way.
She left the desk for the balcony. In the bright afternoon sun, she yanked the towel from her hair and fluffed her fingers through the damp tangled strands to spread them around her shoulders. The blazing sun would dry her thick(,) wavy hair fast.
Early that evening, she peered into a dusky sky brilliant with the red, orange, and yellow glow of sunset. A slight smile curved her lips as she left the balcony. In the bathroom, she washed her face, wiped her slightly sweaty skin, and dragged a brush through her hair until the tangles disappeared.
A critical survey of her appearance brought satisfaction. At least she didn’t look or smell like she’d slept in stagnant pond water. She pulled her hair into its perpetual pony tail and strolled into the cool bedroom to dress. In panties and jeans, she dug in her suitcase for a tank top. The phone rang, drawing her reluctant gaze.
“Three guesses who that is,” she muttered as she crossed from the dresser to the bedside table. “But I only need one.”
She picked up the phone on the second ring, drew in a deep breath, and put the phone to her ear. “Hello, Kevin.”
After a moment of silence, his low voice caressed her ears and her senses. “How did you know it was me?”
“Process of elimination, I returned everyone else’s calls.”
The silence held some tension and Zoë wondered if he finally got the idea.
“I see,” he finally said and gave an unexpected chuckle. “What are your plans for dinner?”
“To eat it.” Her lips twitched. “Why?”
He laughed, a full-bodied sound rumbling through her. “Would you eat dinner with me?”
Yes, hovered on her tongue. He sorely tempted her to agree. Zoë twisted the phone cord in her fingers, torn between him and the smarter option of room service. After a week cooped up with her computer and her fictional world, she needed real people for a while. She didn’t’ want room service.
“All right, as long as the menu includes pizza, loaded, and a pitcher of good old American beer.”
He chuckled again. “Your wish is my command. I’ll be there shortly. Room number?”
She gave him her room number and hung up. Her stomach fluttered. A tremor rippled through her. Every nerve in her body hummed with a mix of excitement and dread. Had she made a fatal mistake?
Anticipation curled in her stomach. She slid her sock covered feet into thick soled loafers and walked into the sitting room. An abrupt knock on the door jolted her. She shot a glance around the room and out the balcony doors. Darkness approached, thousands of stars twinkling above the city lights. Housekeepers would not come to her suite in the evening except to turn down the bed.
Another knock jerked her across the room. She went to the door, opened it, and stared at Kevin Reed. Mouthwatering in snug(,) black jeans and a black silk shirt, he drew her full attention. He looked good enough to eat in great big bites. Her gaze met his and her breath caught in her throat. Desire gleamed in his eyes. Pleasure brightened his expression as his stark stare roamed in turn over her. Her skin tingled under the impact of that passionate stare. Her pulse scrambled and her heart lurched into a faster beat. She swallowed hard in an attempt to control her basic needs and deny the attraction. Her pussy clenched in protest, swelling against the inner seam of her jeans.
“That was quick,” she commented, breathless. “Isn’t black a little hot?”
“Not as hot as you’re making me,” he countered(,) his voice husky as his gaze dropped to her breasts, bare under the emerald tank top. “And I called from the lobby desk.”
Her nipples tightened under his heated gaze and sharp tingles zoomed straight to her crotch. Liquid heat dampened her panties and her pussy throbbed. She gaped at him, astonished at her reaction to the mere sight of him. He hadn’t even touched her! Biting back a groan, she moved aside to allow him entry.
He stepped over the threshold and kicked the door shut but his burning eyes never left her. She held up a hand, palm out, and he stopped in his tracks.
“A word of warning,” she said, her heart pounding. “I’m not interested in seduction attempts, only pizza.”
“And American beer,” he supplied and grinned, lightning quick and sexy as hell. Her determined resistance wavered.
Zoë grinned. Pleasure mingled with anticipation, bubbling in her throat. It intoxicated her.
“Just one thing,” he said in a persuasive drawl as he moved closer and framed her face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to do this again all week.”
Before she even thought to stop him, he covered her mouth with his. His lips moved in slow, deliberate strokes over hers. Desire rippled into her blood and her lips parted under his. He slipped inside, his tongue gliding over hers in a seductive tango. Sensation slammed into her, every nerve screaming for more. Her pussy throbbed and expanded, anticipating his possession. Her knees went weak and she clutched at his shoulders.
His arm slid around her waist, urging her closer. Pressed tight against him, she couldn’t ignore the rigid proof of his desire. Pure sensual pleasure exploded through her. She dug her fingers into strong hard muscle and leaned into him. Of their own volition, her arms moved around his neck and she returned his passion.
When he finally dragged his mouth from hers, his eyes glittered with the need for possession. Her heart staggered at the raw hunger etched on his face. Fingers tangled in the silky hair at the nape of his neck, she tugged. His fingers stroked her neck and she shivered in response. Every feminine instinct she possessed urged her to haul him into her bedroom and let him bring her the pleasure her pussy crave d.(craved) It must have shown in her eyes because his burned with a fierce(,) unmistakable need.
A frisson of fear wormed into her gut. Where was her common sense? Again, she allowed him to kiss her senseless. Again, she avidly participated. He overwhelmed her with passion until she nearly forgot her own name. She closed her eyes against the hunger in his gaze, drew a deep breath, and slowly unwound her arms from his neck.
She stepped back, his arm slipping slowly and easy(easily) from her waist. His fingers trailed fire over her skin under her top. Another shudder of pleasure rippled over her. She drew another shaky breath and opened her eyes. Though he eyed her quizzically, desire gleamed rampant in the depths of eyes the color of dark chocolate.
“Zoë.”
His soft husky tone stroked her senses but she shook her head and took another step back. Her throbbing pussy wept in protest. She clenched her thighs together, tightened those muscles against sudden sharp need, and swallowed hard.
“This isn’t happening. It can’t. It won’t.”
The desire in his eyes intensified, dark and burning as his gaze swept over her. “It has to. It will. I don’t think we can stop it.”
“But,” he continued, his expression softening. “We won’t deal with it tonight.”
“I don’t think dinner is a good idea,” she countered, ever cautious as desire faded into apprehension.
He shifted and skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. “Pizza is always a good idea and I know where to get a really good one.”
Spellbound, trapped in the dark pools of his eyes, she couldn’t pull back from his gentle touch. Nor could she stop the ripple of response that shuddered over her.
“Just dinner, Zoë,” he coaxed. “Everyone has to eat. No pressure.”
As she studied him through wary eyes, her stomach rumbled with a more basic hunger. Her mouth watered at the thought of a large, thin crust pizza loaded with toppings.
“All right. Dinner. No strings.”