Book & Author Details:
The Guru
by Aubrey Parker
(Trillionaire Boys’ Club, #5)
Publication date: April 3rd 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
The Syndicate’s plans are finally made. Everything’s been building to THE GURU.
Anthony Ross is larger than life: tall and handsome, strong in body, mind, and vision. I’ve always believed what my friend Jamie says: what Anthony does onstage isn’t an act. One day, he’ll change the world.
Jamie would know. Anthony is like a father to her. It’s just one reason my crush on Anthony can come to nothing … even after we cross the line, and it starts to become something.
But now I know what the Trillionaire Boys’ Club’s plan is for Anthony, and I can’t be selfish. He doesn’t have time for relationships, now more than ever. He can’t be distracted.
The whole world needs him. I can’t keep him just for me.
Anthony has to choose between me and his mission — but I’m afraid even love isn’t stronger than destiny.
The first phase of Aubrey Parker’s Trillionaire Boys’ Club concludes with THE GURU. Don’t miss out … everything has been building to this!
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Excerpt:
“I
know it’s a little embarrassing,” he says, “but let’s admit what last night
was.”
“A
random run-in?”
“It
worked out that way, but you came looking for me. All done up. In that clingy
little dress.”
“So
now you’re noticing my dress?”
“Of
course I’m noticing it!” He rakes his hand through his hair. “That’s half the
problem.”
“What’s
the other half?”
“Let’s
not do this. I don’t want to upset you.”
“Look at me, Anthony! I’m already upset!”
“I
need to go,” he says, looking back toward the door.
I
move between him and the door. “I’m part of this now, whether you like it or
not.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I
believe in what you do. I’m pissed off, but I don’t want you distracted because
now this is my mission, too.”
“It’s
not the same.”
“It
is the same! This matters, Anthony — you know it does.”
“Of
course I do.” A new sternness enters his voice. “That’s why I can’t see you
again.”
“So
now we’re seeing each other?”
“You
know what I mean.”
“Stop
saying I know what you mean! Stop talking around it and just say what the
hell is on your mind for a change!”
“Fine,”
he snaps. “Last night, you came down hoping to find me because you knew I’d
lost my hook-up for the night and wanted to take her place. Jamie told you I do
that with women I meet on tour. I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t have time for
anything complicated, or the bandwidth for distraction from what matters most,
but I’m still a man and I have needs. I treat those women with respect. I’m
very careful, and we both go into it knowing what it is and that it’ll never
happen again.”
“And
that’s what I was doing?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Coming downstairs
hoping to be your one-night stand?”
“Are
you really going to deny it? We both felt it when I dropped you off — the something
in the air. I just thought we were both smart enough to know which lines not to
cross.”
I
think about denying it, but I came here for a confrontation, not more evasion.
Might as well clear the air and get it over with. “Okay. Fine. That’s what it
was. But as someone once said, ‘It was my choice to make, not yours.’”
“And
it was my choice to be strong enough for both of us, and say no.”
I
don’t know which half of his statement to be furious at first. “So I’m weak.”
Anthony
exhales. He wants to be mad, but I’ve made that too hard. “Of course you’re not
weak. You’re stronger than ever.”
“Good
thing you were strong enough to resist my stronger than ever advances.”
“It’s
not that. It’s not that you were weak. It’s that you were … influenced.”
“Because
you’re so charming? Because bitches just melt into unprotesting pussy in your
presence? Get over yourself, Anthony. I have a mind of my own.”
Another
sigh. “I know you do. Look — I don’t want it to be like this.”
“Why
not? You don’t want it to be the other way, either, apparently.” I put both
hands on my hips. “But thank you. Thank you for being strong enough to say no
to the question I never actually asked.”
“Your
body was saying it.”
I
almost want to laugh. “I see. My body. And is it saying the same thing
right now?”
He
looks me over — the pretentious ass actually looks me up and down. “Honestly?
Yes.”
I
shake my head and move to walk around him. We’re done here; I’m tired of all
the bullshit.
“Caitlin.”
“No.
That’s enough. That’s about all I can handle.”
“Look
at me.”
“I’m
done looking at you.”
He
takes me by the arm and turns me. I wrench away, then push against his chest.
We
stare at each other.
He
tries again, this time reaching for my face. I slap it away again, eyes still
locked on his. I refuse to lose this staring contest.
Anthony
moves toward me in one long, fast stride. I react instinctively, wanting to hit
him again, but he’s suddenly too close to me. His hands are on my face. He’s
holding me against him, our bodies pressed together, his lips smashed against
mine. For a fraction of a second, I’m lost and floating. My arms stop trying to
hit him and my mouth stops protesting. For just that blink of time, there’s
bliss, and I’m somewhere else.
But
then I push him away, harder this time.
“What
the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“What
you want me to do.”
“I
don’t want you to—”
He
comes forward again, his hands back in place. This time I only half-protest for
a couple of beats. Then my pushing hands circle his firm torso and become
pulling hands, spreading open against his dress shirt, kneading, pulling his
hips into mine.
We
pull apart, our mouths separating. We lock eyes. There’s a small moment where I
think one of us might say something — a quip from me about his failure to be
strong, a protest from him about how my heat is keeping him from working — but
then it pops and we’re suddenly one again, moving, undulating, pressed together
from top to bottom.
He
backs me up and my ass hits the table in the center of the room. His hands move
lower, rubbing down my front, pawing my breasts with urgency.
Then
he steps back. His lips are smeared with my lipstick. He drops his arms back,
shakes off his blazer and tosses it behind me.
“Get
on the floor,” he says.
“What?”
“Take
off your panties and get on the floor. Hurry.”
Excerpt
#2
His
mouth finds mine.
My
eyes close.
I
assume he told Molly to shut us in, and that the store is closed with the front
door locked — but honestly right now it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. I haven’t
gone from zero to sixty so quickly since the last time Anthony and I hooked up,
and beyond that no other encounter has ever come close. This man is able to
light a fire inside me that burns hotter than anything I’ve ever felt.
I
don’t care if someone walks into the bookstore right now. I don’t care if a
family of four walks right down that aisle and sets up camp chairs.
We’re
only just kissing, but Anthony is right; my mind was already (and remains
always) primed to explode. I’m already seeing our intertwining bodies. Nothing
could stop me now. It’s become a need, like my need to breathe.
Anthony
pushes us apart, his face flushed, his eyes full of lust. I won’t let our hips
part even as our torsos do. His hardness is pressed against my mound, and it’s
all I can do to not ride his bulge like a cowgirl on a mechanical bull.
“We
need rules,” he says.
“I
know.”
“It’s
just sex. Just sex, Caitlin. Nothing personal. Right now I don’t want
anyone but you. If that changes—”
“I
don’t care.”
“And
if you want—”
“Stop
talking, Anthony. Just stop it.”
But
he firms the arms between us, making me stop and meet his eyes.
“This
is important,” he says. “It’s the only way it can work. I need to be sure you
understand. I can’t give you more than this. Work has to come first.”
“I
understand.” But I’m half-panting, unable to resist pawing at Anthony’s
troublesome clothing even as he lectures me. There’s a burning between my legs.
I don’t even think he’ll have to touch it to make me come. I just need his lips
on mine, his kisses on the nape of my neck.
“Caitlin.”
I
make myself focus.
“I’m
not like Aiden, or Hunter Altman, or any of the others you may have met through
Jamie. They were bastards who couldn’t see that something was missing in their lives.
They needed the love of a good woman. I’m telling you right here and now: That’s
not me. I know who I am. I know why I’m here on the planet. I know the
sacrifices I need to make, that I’ve already made. I know what my plan
is supposed to look like, and it’s tight to the wire. I’m only going to do this
with you if you understand.”
“I
told you. I understand.” But actually this is just working me up more. What the
hell is wrong with me? My hands are still wandering. I want to get on my knees.
I want him inside me, one way or the other.
“It
needs to be what you want, too.”
“I
want it.”
“Caitlin!”
That
stops me. Something clears and I meet his eyes. My heart is still pounding and
my neck and face are still flushed. My pussy is wetter than a water park, and
it’s hard to stand. But Anthony’s hard word brings me around like a slap.
“This
has to be what you want,” he repeats. “To be with a man who wants nothing
that’s not physical. We’ll be friends, and we’ll fuck. That’s all. I won’t love
you. I simply don’t have the time. Most people don’t have a mission. I do. I
can’t compromise it. I can’t say that often or strongly enough. If we do
this—”
Just
his mention of doing this makes my imagination turn again, feeling the doing
between my legs and tasting his this between my lips.
“—it’s
to solve a problem and advance my ability to do what I need to do_. If it ever
starts to subtract rather than add—”
Oh, fuck this guy and his speeches. I’m a big girl.
I
take two handfuls of his shirt and pull him against me. He can’t keep talking
with our lips together. There’s just a moment’s hesitation — probably because I
didn’t actually agree to his lengthy terms and conditions — but then I feel his
restraint fully shatter. His lips lose their reticence, mashing into mine,
covering my mouth with his passionate kisses.
His
hands are on me in an instant, no longer lingering near our hips. We work in
frenzied tandem, me pulling his shirt off as he pulls mine off. We’re so rushed
that we collide over and over, clumsy, stumbling, none of it remotely funny.
Earlier,
I spied a couch at an intersection in the aisles. It looked soft and
comfortable, the kind of thing I’d want to sink into. He’s either seen the
couch, too, or I’ve been leading without realizing — because moments later
we’re against it.
He
looks down at my chest, spellbound. His hands find my breasts, caressing them
softly through my bra.
“Take
this off. Let me see you.”
Except
#3
Whatever
this was supposed to be between us, it’s become something different. I need to
face reality instead of the nonexistent myth. We were never supposed to be a
couple, but somehow we’ve become a couple.
I
look at Caitlin, knowing what I have to do.
But
I can’t.
I
refuse.
She
hasn’t made me second-guess anything that shouldn’t be second-guessed. She
hasn’t distracted me from anything that didn’t require the occasional
distraction.
But
she’s harming my focus, and there’s no way out but to end it.
I
take her hand and lead her inside. There’s no one in the house but me — no
maids, no assistants, not even any groundskeepers outside. I wanted privacy. So
I open my mouth to tell her what needs saying. I waver. I see her eyes — soft
brown, the kind of eyes you get lost in. I tell myself to be strong.
Instead,
I pull her to me. I kiss her.
We
can’t do this. I need to stop. If I don’t, I’m a bastard. If I don’t, I’m not
just the hypocrite Alexa accused me of being; I’m also digging the knife deeper
into Caitlin’s belly, too cowardly to tell her this was supposed to be our
breakup.
She
deserves better. She deserves the breakup. She doesn’t deserve my confused
affections. She doesn’t deserve the bludgeon of my lust.
But
I mash her lips with mine. Her hands are all over me, unbuttoning my shirt,
pulling it over my head. I remove her blouse so urgently that I almost rip it.
My hands slip beneath her bra without unfastening it, because there’s no time
for niceties. Somehow I get it off anyway and then her hands are at my belt,
unzipping me, reaching down my pants to stroke my sudden erection.
She’s
rushing so much that her hands are clumsy, amateurish. She grinds against me. I
try to push her away, to end this, but instead I stumble all the way to the
wall with her, pressing her to it. I kiss her neck, lick her tits, rub my
fingers across their saliva-slicked curves, pinch her nipples.
Her
hands are still on my cock, jerking so fervently that I might just come all
over her stomach right now to end this. My hand slips inside both pants and
panties. I find her bare and wet, warm and inviting. I touch her clit and she
gasps. I cover her gasping lips with mine, kissing her urgently.
I
push back. I actually have to keep my arm straight between us, fingers tented
near her collarbone, forcing myself not to look into her eyes or at her heaving
chest.
This
has to be done. It can go no further.
“Caitlin,
we need to talk.”
“It’s
so hot when you say that.”
“I’m
serious.”
Her
fingers circle my cock.
My
balls snug up under me, tense and ready to fire. Just looking at her makes me
want to come. Just looking at her makes me want to take her upstairs, make us
both forget, and then look out at that valley vista together.
“Then
talk,” she says.
“You
need to stop,” I say, hoping she doesn’t.
Her
hand pauses.
My
hand, still inside her panties, does not. I force it to. I draw it out and I
take another step back, finally apart.
“What
is it?”
“Caitlin
…”
She’s
shaking her head.
“Caitlin,
we need—”
“Shut
your fucking mouth.” She’s still breathing like she’s run a race. Her breasts
rise and fall. Her eyes are deep, suddenly sad.
“Let
me say what I need to say.”
“No.”
“You
have to hear it. You deserve it.”
“No,
Anthony.”
“You—”
“Kiss
me. Make love to me.”
I
just watch her. I watch her and want her.
She
closes the step between us and pushes my chest.
“If
you have something to say to me, say it with your cock.”
I
move closer. I won’t do this. I’m not that big of a bastard.
But
with her just a foot from me, I can smell her like a predator smells prey.
I’m
no longer in control — I’m not Anthony, the rational man who shares my skin.
Now
I’m something different. Something else. Something that is all need.
My
hands move of their own accord. I hook my fingers into her waistband and pull
violently down. Her pussy hypnotizes me. My cock twitches, dribbling fluid with
hungry anticipation as she reaches for it.
Her
fingers wrap around it. They shouldn’t be there, but I want them.
I
push her sideways, so her back is against my wall of windows. So I can see the
valley as I betray her with my lust. Does it matter that she knows what this
is? Does it matter that she’s realized what I was going to say, and wants me to
fuck her anyway?
“Open
your legs,” I say. “Show me how wet your pussy is.”
AUTHOR BIO:
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.
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