Page 95 of Torrid Passion
CHAPTER 19
Kyla
Thank God dinner is over.
We were stuck sitting at the same table as Amos Zebediah.
The man can talk your ear off.
He went to MIT and Caltech. He owns his own tech firm—robotics programming for the film industry. He spent the last hour boring us with talk about some algorithm he used to build a human-like robot that could replace real live actors. Think life-size sex dolls, without the sex part, he said. His first prototypes are named Shavonne and Elijah. Creepy.
When he was done putting us to sleep, he attempted to seduce me. I guess he figured a date with Kieran O’Keeffe’s daughter would secure a foot in the door once the dolls were perfected. It was a no from the get-go, but Jameson Camdon saved me. As Amos was making his move, this came flying out of his mouth, ‘Christ on a cracker! No way! Jesus on a stick! Holy-I-can’t-believe-my-eyes.’ Once Amos calmed down, he quickly ditched the table to run after Jameson, our potential date forgotten. Darn, and here I was ready to pull the, ‘I’m already seeing someone’ card. Truth be told, after Magnus, I’ve used Loki as my fake boyfriend many times to avoid rotten dates with guys I had zero interest in.
After dinner, Mom was eager to do the rounds to introduce me to a few big names in industry. As we entered the ball, the last person I expected to see was Loki. Now I’m brushing against him.
Great.
Thanks, Russell Hu.
Feeling Loki’s bulge pressing against my ass is another reminder of how he rocked my world with his very big cock.
And just like that, I’m wet.
Crap.
Get a grip.
I barrage myself in an effort to keep the lust filled heat flowing through me to an appropriate level.
Damn you, Loki.
“All right, we’re all done here,” Russell says after snapping a bunch of photos. “Thank you.”
“I hope you got what you needed,” Dad says.
“A group of good-looking Hollywood elite? Of course I got what I needed,” Russell smiles.
He approaches Loki. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t get your name. It’s for the caption.”
“Lochlan Berkshire.” He types it on his iPad.
“From?”
“Pending Inference Productions.”
“Got it. Thanks,” Russell says. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, folks.”
“Thank you,” my parents say in unison.
Keller, Loki and I smile with a nod.
“Let’s go find Dr. Berkshire and his beauty queen,” Dad chuckles.
“Sounds—”
A teenage girl wearing a pretty lilac dress taps Loki’s arm, cutting him off. “I’m sorry, sir.” A group of four of her friends stands back.
I’m so taken by this guy, I didn’t even notice them approaching us.
