His Obsession: An Over the Top Romance Box Set

  His Obsession

  Box Set

  Jenna Rose

  Contents

  More Jenna Rose

  Agent

  1. Chris

  2. Babs

  3. Chris

  4. Babs

  5. Babs

  6. Chris

  7. Babs

  8. Babs

  9. Chris

  10. Babs

  11. Babs

  12. Babs

  13. Chris

  Epilogue

  Stuffed

  1. Jim

  2. Autumn

  3. Jim

  4. Jim

  5. Autumn

  6. Jim

  7. Autumn

  8. Autumn

  9. Autumn

  10. Jim

  11. Autumn

  12. Autumn

  13. Jim

  Epilogue

  Jock

  1. Trent

  2. Kylie

  3. Kylie

  4. Trent

  5. Kylie

  6. Trent

  7. Kylie

  8. Kylie

  9. Kylie

  10. Trent

  11. Kylie

  12. Kylie

  13. Trent

  Epilogue

  Doll

  1. Gwen

  2. Kai

  3. Gwen

  4. Kai

  5. Gwen

  6. Gwen

  7. Kai

  8. Gwen

  9. Gwen

  10. Kai

  11. Gwen

  12. Kai

  Epilogue - Gwen

  Epilogue - Kai

  Trainer

  1. Chase

  2. Cady

  3. Cady

  4. Chase

  5. Cady

  6. Chase

  7. Cady

  8. Cady

  9. Chase

  10. Cady

  11. Cady

  12. Cady

  13. Chase

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  More Jenna Rose

  Jenna Rose on Amazon

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  Agent

  1

  Chris

  This is a huge problem, I thought as I drove back to my Hollywood studio with my head spinning and the zipper on my jeans ready to pop off. I’d just finished the first meeting with my new agent, Barbara, and things were about to get very complicated.

  Maybe it was just the dumb-guy part of me, or something I’d picked up from the movies or a book I’d read, but when I heard the name “Barbara,” I didn’t think “out-of-this-world-goddess-agent”; I thought “someone-who-looks-like-my-mom-agent.”

  And I was wrong.

  When I’d stepped through the doors of The Ivy, one of Los Angeles’s most famous restaurants—one that had seen plenty a power meeting in its day—my heart was racing. And it wasn’t because my career was about to launch into the stratosphere like one of Elon Musk’s rockets; it was because of her.

  Like I said, I’d been expecting a woman in her 40s, wearing a pant suit and a hardened expression on her face, but what I got was a drop-dead beauty in her 20s, wearing a dress that looked like it had come off the runways in Paris, with almond brown hair pulled back to show off a face that could have been signed to Ford or Wilhelmina.

  “Chris Snow?” she’d asked politely, extending a perfectly manicured hand with shining, colorless nails. “I’m Barbara Whitesell. How are you?”

  How am I? I thought.

  For someone as levelheaded and cool as me, I was completely off balance. It took me a minute to respond—longer than was polite—but Barbara kept her sparkling green eyes on me the entire time.

  Her cheekbones belonged in a magazine, and her teeth in a dentist’s brochure, but I could tell she hadn’t had any work done…unlike half the girls in this town.

  Her dress was charcoal and semi-professional but did nothing to hide the banging body she had underneath. She either worked out or was simply blessed, and the red heels she was wearing accentuated her already incredible calves.

  I’d been hungry for dinner, but now I was craving something else entirely…

  “Hey, Barbara,” I smiled, finally shaking her hand and ending the slightly awkward moment.

  “Call me Babs,” she replied. Her grip was firm, like a girl who’d played sports in college. “Come on. I’ve got us a table.”

  This was a massive meeting for me. Barbara worked for CAA, the biggest agency in Hollywood—hell, in all the world—and signing with her would take me to the next level.

  My last film, Mountain of Dreams, had been an unsuspected hit. It was supposed to be just a small indie drama but had ended up winning Sundance and making eight times its budget at the domestic box office.

  I’d even been nominated for a Golden Globe (but didn’t win).

  And then I’d gotten the phone call.

  Creative Artists Agency!?

  I’d nearly fallen out of my chair.

  “Hi, this is Barbara Whitesell’s assistant, Paul,” a young man’s voice had said. “Barbara would love to take a meeting with you. Are you available on Friday evening?”

  “I’ll clear my schedule,” I’d replied.

  It was the most incredible moment of my life, the peak of a wave that had been building since I’d dropped out of high school and left Virginia when I was 17 to pursue my dreams of being an actor.

  All those nights of eating ramen, cutting coupons, pushing expiration dates, and wearing the same pair of jeans for a year straight had finally culminated in a meeting with a power agent. And as I walked through The Ivy to our corner table, that should have been all I was thinking about…

  …but it wasn’t.

  I was thinking about Barbara’s curves, the way her hips moved as she walked, her coltish figure making my mouth water as I pictured what she’d look like on my floor mattress, that designer dress hanging over my desk chair, her face sweaty and her hair matted across her forehead while I took her in every way imaginable.

  With her hair pulled back like that, the delicate lines of her neck were visible, and all I could think about was grabbing her there with my hand and bringing her lips to mine.

  What is happening right now? I thought as I took my seat across from her at a small, intimate table.

  This kind of reaction was not something I was used to. Sure, I was a guy, and having a reaction to a beautiful woman was nothing strange to me, but this was Los Angeles; there were beautiful women everywhere.

  Your average Starbucks barista in Los Angeles was a supermodel compared to the hottest girl back in Virginia. I’d grown used to the acres of gorgeous women parading around the city, and to be honest, I wasn’t into any of them.

  Shallow bimbos, models, gold diggers…LA was filled with them, and as corny as it sounded, I was an artist. I cared about life, about my craft, about how my work affected the world. If I was going to make a girl mine, she had to have something going for her beyond big fake boobs and a pretty face.

  Barbara may have been gorgeous, but she also had something about her that I’d never seen, and it had a grip on me like nothing I’d felt before. I knew she was the kind of girl I would want at my side.

  I resituated myself on my chair to make room for the growing arousal swelling beneath my jeans, half hoping she wouldn’t notice, half hoping she would.

  “Ever been to The Ivy before?” she asked, knowing full well I hadn’t. This meeting was designed to impress me, and Barbara had brought out the big guns.

  The actor-agent relationship was a very strange thing. She wanted me but I also wanted her, and neither of us could give that away. It was like a very strange dance with each of us trying to impress upon the other just how much they were needed.

  “Oh sure,” I grinned. “Plenty of times. They comp my meals generally. I’ll make sure they take care of you.”

  Barbara’s eyes twinkled and she leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to stare at her perfect cleavage.

  Is she doing this on purpose? I wondered.

  Agents were smart, calculated people. She’d worn that dress for a reason. She’d brought me to The Ivy for a reason, and if she was leaning forward and giving me a face full of her perfect ice-cream-scoop tits, she was doing it for a reason…

  “See, you’re funny,” she smiled. “I think that’s a side of you that audiences haven’t seen yet. Mountain of Dreams was great, and you were great in it, but it was also very intense. With your good looks and humor, you have exactly what it takes to be a box office star.”

  “Good looks, huh?” I asked. “You coming onto me, Barbara?”

  “Call me Babs,” she replied. “And no. That would be extremely unprofessional of me.”

  The conversation halted as a waiter arrived with our sparkling water and filled our glasses.

  “Could we get the crab cakes and tuna tartare, please?” Babs asked the waiter. “I’ll have a cucumber melon soda. Chris, what would you like to drink?”

  “Water’s fine for now,” I replied to the waiter who nodded and left.

  I wasn’t thirsty, and truth be told—I wasn’t hungry either. At least not for anything food related.

  Babs was absolutely radiant, a
nd while it may have been judgmental of me, I couldn’t believe she was an actual agent—a business woman. She looked like a model or the beautiful heiress to a dynastic fortune.

  “We really want you at the agency,” Babs continued. “I think that—”

  “We want you?” I repeated. “Shouldn’t you say I really want you?”

  Babs started to reply, stopped, thought a moment, then said, “Yes, I want you, Chris…”

  Damn right…

  “…but I also work for CAA and we want you. We want to represent you.”

  “And I want you,” I replied, letting her know with my eyes what I really meant.

  And she got my message too. I could see it in her eyes, even if she didn’t openly acknowledge it.

  I wasn’t one to beat around the bush when I saw something I wanted. When I had a crush on Katie Hill in second grade, I went right up to her on the playground and told her. When I wanted to be an actor, I quit school and moved to Los Angeles with nothing but a couple grand and a dream.

  And now I wanted her, and I wasn’t going to pussyfoot around it.

  “Well now,” she said, clearing her throat with a sip of her soda as the waiter returned. “You kind of threw me here, Chris.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked as the bulge in my pants continued to grow.

  My eyes moved to her luscious lips as she licked them. I wanted to wrap my mouth around her bottom lip and suck while I undressed her and explored her body with my hands.

  She was sensual and inviting, and that’s how I would take her. I’d start slow, tease her mouth, move my lips across her, tasting her soft skin before parting her thighs to reveal her pretty little secret.

  I’d worship her body and use my mouth on her until she cried my name in climax and ran her fingers through my hair. And then I’d take her fully and completely, claim her and make her mine.

  More than just my agent…

  “I mean—I had this whole speech prepared,” she replied. “About how much I could do for your career and how the agency could help you—”

  “To hell with that,” I interrupted, scooting my chair around the table so I was right next to her—so my leg was touching hers. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  Babs’s professional façade faltered slightly. She could try and hide it from everyone else around us, but she couldn’t hide it from me.

  She wanted me, and not just as a client.

  The waiter returned with our appetizers, and I completely ignored him as he set them on the table. Babs smiled and thanked him but immediately turned her attention back to me.

  “What…do you want to talk about?” she asked.

  “Okay, I lied, Babs,” I smiled, moving my eyes to her lips. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

  And then I went for it.

  I leaned right in and kissed her, the power agent courting me to sign me. I kissed her right there in the middle of The Ivy.

  And it was un-fucking-real.

  I could have sworn a fireworks show was going on overhead as her wet lips pressed against mine and opened slightly to accept my tongue.

  She smelled incredible and tasted even better. I couldn’t wait to taste her other lips and slide my tongue between them…

  My hand moved beneath the table and I took hold of her knee and squeezed gently, moving the fabric of her dress aside to expose the soft skin underneath.

  I ran my fingers up her inner thigh and felt a silent moan escape her lips. She was smooth, supple, inviting, and my pants were about to burst.

  Her legs opened slightly, letting me know that she wanted more. I moved my hand up until I felt her warmth against my fingers, expecting to feel the lace of her panties next.

  But that’s not what happened.

  I felt soft, bare, smooth skin and then wetness against my fingertips…

  “Whoa, tiger,” Babs said, slapping her legs shut and pulling away. “Let’s slow this down.”

  “Why?” I smiled as she tried to hide her face from me. “This is Hollywood, isn’t it?”

  Babs twisted her lips and shook her head.

  That was a dumb fucking thing to say.

  “This…this can’t happen,” she replied. “This is a professional relationship and I don’t want to screw things up on day one.”

  “I think it can be both,” I told her. I squeezed her leg again but she pulled away and stood up.

  “No,” she said firmly, brushing her hair from her face. She was red, blushing with an obvious arousal. “No, we can’t. I’ll—I’ll have Paul send over the agency papers, and if you still want to go with me, you can sign them and we can move on from there.”

  “Of course I still want you,” I told her, standing up and staring into her eyes. “I want you, Babs.”

  Babs took a deep breath then extended her hand to me.

  “And I am happy to have you as a client,” she said. Without waiting, she shook my hand quickly, released it, then walked away from me. She motioned to the waiter, and as I moved to follow her, he stepped in front of me.

  “Miss Whitesell told me to give you whatever you need,” he said. “And she’ll take care of the bill.”

  “Anything I want, huh?” I asked him. “I don’t think you have that on the menu.”

  This is a huge problem, I thought again as I unlocked my door and stepped into my apartment and slumped down on the mattress. My dick was still hard, as it had been the entire drive back from Santa Monica, and my mind was swimming with thoughts of Babs, my new agent…

  …my new girl.

  I didn’t care what it took or how unprofessional it was; she would be mine.

  2

  Babs

  Paul greeted me at the elevator after my lunch with an executive over at Paramount with an armful of papers stacked on top of his tablet. He was wearing a blue floral tie that he always wore on Mondays and was smiling at me like he hadn’t spent all weekend working and had actually gotten a decent amount of sleep.

  “So you got him?!” he asked cheerfully.

  “I did,” I nodded, brushing past him as I headed for my office.

  I’d spent all weekend trying to forget about what had happened at The Ivy between Chris and me, which had only resulted in me waking up three times Saturday night and four times on Sunday, sweating and wet from the kind of dream that would make a PG-13 romance movie tip into an XXX rating.

  “Well…that’s a good thing, right?”

  “Yes, Paul,” I replied. I was a bit snippy after all the weekend dreaming about Chris’s body wrapped around mine.

  He was undeniably handsome. That was one of the reasons I knew he was going to be a star.

  Those beautiful blue eyes would sparkle on the screen, hypnotizing every audience member. The girls would get wet over his flawless face, sharp jaw, and Adonis body, and the guys would find him relatable and want to be him.

  He was perfect, every agent and producer’s wet dream…

  …which was why I couldn’t afford to screw this up.

  Being a Hollywood agent had been my dream since high school. I’d worked hard and gotten into Yale, full scholarship, and worked even harder. Social life? As if. I had one friend the entire four years, Clara (also my roommate), and one poor guy named Thomas who told me he thought I was cute but that was as far as it got.