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“Anderson. My office. Now.” Ethan stormed down the glass-walled hallway before Cole could say anything else to the receptionist. His expression was decidedly stormy, and Cole felt his hackles rising when faced with the obvious aggression of the other man.
“Is there a problem?” He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, but he wasn’t feeling casual. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like the lack of control he felt when he lost. Probably because of how often he’d actually been out of control in his wilder days.
Back when he’d been with Georgia.
“There’s something.” Ethan gestured to his office with one arm. “Let’s go have a chat.”Cole eyed the other man narrowly, but nodded and followed Ethan away from the front desk.
"So what’s with the theatrics?” Cole noted that Kevin Hawke, the hot new director who was supposed to be in on this meeting as well, wasn’t in Ethan’s office. His spidey senses were tingling—something was off.
"You haven't heard?" Ethan arched an eyebrow, then grinned, but the expression was sinister and Cole didn’t care for it.
“Spit it out, Black.” His voice was flat. The only big event in his life recently was the breakup with Regina, and Cole highly doubted that Ethan gave a shit about that.
Ethan rubbed his hand over his face and pulled out his phone. "So how's that girlfriend of yours?"
“I don’t know.” Cole glanced at Ethan from the corner of his eye. It was a weird question—usually the producer was all business. “We broke up.”
"I'm not surprised." Ethan swiped his screen and smirked. He held up his phone, the screen facing Cole, and turned up the volume.
A chorus of moans and the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh emanated from the small device. Cole would have rolled his eyes at Ethan—why was the producer showing him porn, anyway?—except something about the scene caught and held his attention.
A leanly muscled young man mounted a slender woman from behind. His hands fisted in her chestnut waves as he slowly fucked in and out of her, the curves of her ass jiggling every time he bottomed out inside of her.
Cole didn’t have much need for porn—he had women clamoring for his attention day and night. Still, he felt his cock start to thicken as he watched the scene playing out.
Christ, he was acting like a fucking teenager. Shifting uncomfortably, he redirected his focus to the hotel room surrounding the couple. Opulent, cream-colored satin sheets on a massive bed, a chandelier overhead, a panoramic sheet of glass in place of a wall…
"I know that hotel.” The Kingston Oceanside had once been one of his favorite places to party and then crash. He hadn’t been there in years.
“Gee, you think?” Ethan cackled as he tilted the phone to watch with Cole, who frowned as the couple of the bed shifted position. Ringing started to reverberate loudly in his ears as the man onscreen pulled out of the woman’s heat, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her inner thighs braced on his shoulders as he thrust himself back inside of her.“Look at the camera, baby. Show everyone how pretty you are.” The woman did as she was told, moaning as she let her head hang off the side of the bed. Delicate, china-doll features, long waves of minky hair, miles of creamy skin that he’d know anywhere.
And that voice. The voice encouraging her to show off.
It was his own fucking voice.
“What the ever-loving fuck, Ethan?” This was what the reporters outside had mentioned. He just hadn’t known what they were talking about. “Where the hell did you get your hands on this?”