by B. B. Hamel
Not to mention Laney purposefully set it in Death Valley to make sure that she’ll have the most uncomfortable time on this movie as possible. In the end, Holly got what was coming to her: a shitty job on a movie that doesn’t suit her at all, and I suspect she’s not long for acting.
Brutally Dishonest begins, and it’s about what I expected. Lots of action, lots of excitement, and of course Jackson is incredible in it. The movie is just okay, it’s a big action blockbuster, but that’s exactly what we needed it to be. When the ending credits roll, the whole house claps enthusiastically, because everyone knows this thing is going to make millions.
“What did you think?” Jackson asks me as we filter out of the theater.
“It was perfect,” I say, kissing him again.
“You didn’t think it was cheesy?”
“Not at all.” I pause. “Well, a little bit, but it was supposed to be.”
He grins and kisses me again as a thick German accent calls Jackson’s name.
“Hello, Lionel,” he says, shaking the big director’s hand.
“You were wonderful, very good, just what we needed. And to do it for free, I say, you are a crazy man.”
Jackson grins. “High praise, coming from you.”
“Yes, well. You want to make more movies, you come to me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Lionel pats his back and strides off.
“Weird guy,” I say.
“Yep,” Jackson agrees, laughing.
We spend the rest of the reception shaking hands and catching up with crew we haven’t seen since the movie wrapped. We won’t see most of these people again, unless we work with them on a film or something, but it’s nice to see them all.
“We have to catch a flight tomorrow morning,” Jackson says to Paul, the lighting guy. “We’re filming some scenes on location in New Zealand.”
“Damn, man,” Paul says. “Isn’t that Middle Earth?”
“Absolutely it is,” I chime in.
“Middle Earth?” Jackson asks.
“You know, man, Lord of the Rings. Hobbits and shit.” Paul grins at him.
“Oh, yeah,” Jackson says. “Sorry, I was too busy fighting bad guys to read much.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
I laugh and we move on, chatting with more people, trying to make connections. I never in a million years thought I’d be dating a real star, let alone be back with Jackson.
And true to his promise, he hasn’t left me. Not even for a second. We’ve been inseparable, and it feels like we finally picked up where we left off when we were kids. That incredible feeling is back, every single day.
“It was another masterpiece, huh?” Laney smiles at us over a glass of champagne.
“Beautiful,” I say to her, laughing.
“Made me look pretty cool which is all I ever ask,” Jackson responds.
“I hear you look pretty cool in your latest,” Laney says.
“We’re trying.” He shrugs a little bit.
“Seriously, Laney, I need to thank you again for what you did,” I say.
“I didn’t do a thing,” she says, waving her hand. “I just wrote a script and sold it. Just so happens to have worked out for you guys.”
“Still, you made that happen. We owe you one,” Jackson says.
“Nah. You made it all happen. I just wrote the thing.”
I laugh and hug her. “Come visit us,” I say. “We’d love to have you.”
“I will soon,” she says. “Right now, I just saw a cute waiter boy that’ll be very impressed by a nerdy writer like me. Excuse me, folks.” She grins and heads off. I know I’ll be seeing her again soon. I’ll never be rid of Laney, and that makes me happier than I can explain.
I have another glass of wine and I feel good as Jackson chats everyone up. I love being near him. He makes me feel so much better about myself than I ever could have imagined. Nights like this remind me how lucky I am to have him. He looks incredible in his tuxedo, like it was built just for his muscular, enormous body. He catches me looking at him and gives me that same familiar grin, the same one he’s always had, ever since I first fell in love with him all those years ago.
Slowly the reception ends and people begin to filter out. There are media people outside doing interviews, and it’s like a second late night red carpet. Lights and cameras flash as we step out into the madness.
“There’s one more thing before this night ends,” Jackson says to me. “It might embarrass you, though.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”
He grins and pulls me by the hand into the middle of the madness. Once we’re there, he locks eyes with me and drops down to one knee.
“Jackson,” I say, my eyes going wide, my heart beating fast. I don’t know what’s happening, how this is happening, but there are cameras flashing like crazy and there’s a circle of people around us.
“I love you more than I can imagine,” Jackson says. “I told you I’d never leave again, and now I want to make that real. Tara, will you marry me?”
I stare at him for a second. “Yes,” I manage to say through my tears.
He laughs and slides a ring on my finger. It fits perfectly, and it’s big, shiny, shockingly shiny, too beautiful. I look at him and he stands, takes me into his arms, and kisses me.
Applause breaks out in the crowd as people cheer and take pictures. I can barely hear them though because my heart is beating so loud in my ears and Jackson is everything.
“I love you so much,” I say to him.
“I know you do.” He grins and we kiss, and I know that I’m home.
We’ll travel, make movies, have kids, have a life. We’ll be together forever, because he’ll never leave me again. I know that now, without a doubt in my mind. He won’t be going anywhere, and that’s exactly what I need.
Right here, right now, with Jackson, forever.
Virgin’s Daddy: A Dark Romance
Prologue: Sadie
My heart hammers and I’m nervous, so freaking nervous, though I know I don’t need to be.
Gavin knows what he’s doing. I can see it in the way he moves and the way he speaks to me. Maybe it’s my first time, but it definitely isn’t his.
Streetlights send shadows up through the windows in his penthouse apartment, making the night feel deep. Gavin smirks as he runs his hands down my hips, along the length of my dress. They reach the hem and stop, pressing lightly against my skin.
“Is this what you imagined?” he whispers in my ear.
I shake my head lightly. “Not at all.”
He slowly lifts the hem of my dress.
I shouldn’t be here. I’m not supposed to be around Gavin at all. If my family found out what I was doing, they’d disown me and throw me away like trash.
But I don’t care. I want this man so badly that I can barely stand it.
“You’re sure you want to give yourself to me?” he asks softly, his lips gently grazing my neck.
“Yes,” I gasp as his fingers finally find my soaking spot.
“Good,” he says, taking a handful of my hair. “Because I want to teach you.”
“Teach me?” I gasp.
He grins. “You’ll see.” His fingers slide beneath my panties, rubbing up against my soaking pussy.
I can barely think. I don’t know what I’m doing, why I’m finally giving myself to someone. I barely know this man, but I’m sure this is right.
He’s older than me and very rich, but he’s trouble. My family would call him low-class, even if he does have as much money as they do or more.
I’m from an old family, a very rich and wealthy family. We’ve been in this city from its start, and we can count senators, mayors, and business magnates among our venerable ancestors. Or at least that’s what my parents say.
Recently though, we haven’t earned a thing. We inherit our wealth and run the family business b
ecause it’s what’s expected. My brothers will be the businessmen, and I’ll marry some other rich eligible bachelor to ensure that the family line continues.
I didn’t ask for this life. I don’t even know if I want it.
But Gavin couldn’t be more different. Everything he has, he earned through hard work and intelligence. He came from nothing but now he’s something.
He has experience. He has control. He is a confident and capable person, and I find that overwhelmingly attractive.
Attractive enough to throw it all away. Just for one night of pleasure. Which is probably more than I could have ever expected if I continued along my previous path.
His rough hands trail along my soft skin and his lips are firm against mine. I feel a thrill run through me as he pulls off my dress.
I love the way he looks at me. Like he’s starving for my body, like he can’t get enough. I want him to keep staring at me, but I know he’ll have to take his eyes away if we’re going to do what I want to do.
He presses me against the wall-length glass and pins my hands above my head. I’m mostly naked, standing above the city. I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been before, the good rich virgin girl being pressed against this window. That thought only makes me more excited.
“I’ll be gentle,” he says.
“Do you have to be?”
His smirk drives me wild. “At first. But soon. Very soon.” His thumb trails along my bottom lip.
“Soon you’ll be down on all fours, begging for my thick cock.”
As my teeth come down on the skin of his thumb, I know he’s right, and I can’t wait.
1
Gavin
I like charity.
Not a lot of guys in my position do, unless “charity” is the name of a stripper. Most guys, when they get as rich as I am, they just want to hold on to their wealth as much as possible. But to me, that’s so shortsighted and foolish.
We’re all in this world together. Might as well help some people.
Besides, I remember what it’s like to struggle. I remember going to bed without dinner because my parents could only afford one meal a day. I remember the struggle, the stress, and the fucking pain of having nothing at all. I remember all the time and effort I put into getting something, and I wish someone had helped us back then. Most guys like me, they didn’t come from absolutely nothing. They don’t know what it’s like to really want for the basics.
So charity is my thing. I have money, a lot of it, and I can afford to give some away. Which I do, as liberally as possible, sometimes too much if you want to listen to my business manager.
But these rich ass, upper crust charity events, these aren’t usually my thing. As I walk into the banquet hall, I keep to the edges of the room after grabbing a glass of whisky from the open bar.
Fortunately, I’m pretty anonymous in here. Everyone else is a rich business magnate, just like me, and so I can hang around and keep a low profile. I’m not particularly well-known, mostly because I’ve worked to keep it that way. Everyone knows my business and my name, but not everyone knows what I look like. That’s helped me lead a relatively normal life.
And so I blend in wearing my tuxedo and drinking my whisky. I’ve been around this crowd for years now, I’m thirty-nine years old and I’ve been rich for ten of them, but this is only my second charity auction.
I hate these things. They’re not really about the charity. They’re more about the opportunity to network with other rich assholes, maybe to bribe a few politicians, that sort of thing. Sure, there’s a real charity, and they write a check at the end of the night, but the shit that goes on during the event is loathsome.
I’m only here for two reasons. First, my business manager Rick keeps begging me to come to these things, says it would be good for the company. Being here tonight is one way to get him off my back and maybe a little bit to prove him wrong. Second, and more important, what’s being auctioned fascinated me, and I couldn’t help myself.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentleman, please have a seat.” An older woman, maybe ten years older than me, stands at the microphone on the stage. There’s a general murmur and commotion as people move toward their seats around the large banquet tables. “The auction will begin momentarily,” she says, before heading off to the side of the stage.
I find my place at a table in the back. I specifically requested this spot, and I’m glad I did. I don’t recognize anyone at my table, although my neighbor to my right is a large drunk man with a thick beard. He clearly wants to chat, but I’m not in the mood.
The crowd waits, a little restless, until music starts. The woman returns, this time to applause, and beams out at the crowd. I assume she’s the one that organized all this, though I haven’t paid much attention.
“Thank you all for being here,” she says. “And the children of Mercy General thank you as well.” More applause before she holds up her hands. “Our first girl hails from Rhode Island. The daughter of Patricia and Linus Vanderhoot, Layla Vanderhoot loves horses, skiing, and plaid skirts. Come on out, Layla!”
The crowd erupts into wild applause as a small girl with brown hair and dressed in an elegant gown steps out into the stage. She’s probably mid-twenties, pretty but not beautiful.
“Do I hear one thousand?” the woman at the microphone says, and the bidding begins.
It’s a fascinating spectacle. Daughters of the wealthy elite are paraded out onto the stage, one after another, and equally wealthy men bid outrageous sums of money to take them out on dates. The first girl, the Vanderhoot girl, is pretty but fairly plain, and even she fetches twenty grand, a respectable sum. I hope she enjoys talking horses and skirts with her suitor, who is clearly in his eighties and making lewd jokes with his peers.
Winning a date doesn’t guarantee anything untoward, of course. It just means you get to take the woman out on a date, probably chaperoned, for one night. That’s all it is, and it’s supposed to be innocent, but there’s a strange and creepy undertone to the whole thing.
I lean back and watch. I don’t plan on bidding on anyone, and in fact I already wrote a fifty thousand dollar check to Mercy General earlier that morning, so I did my charitable duty. The girls themselves aren’t very interesting, and nobody is really making me want to speak up.
I drink my whisky and then another, observing. I’m here at least, and Rick can’t deny that. I never said I’d fucking socialize or network, although I probably should.
Nine girls come and go, nearly half of the herd. There’s going to be a break before dinner, and then the final ten are going to be sold off. I plan on slipping out before the entrees, since I’ve already seen enough.
But something stops me before I can get up.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Sadie Tillman!”
The crowd claps loudly. I recognize that name. I wasn’t listening when the woman introduced Sadie’s interests, but I don’t care about that.
All I care about is the woman who walks out on stage.
She’s probably twenty years old, about five foot five to my six foot four. She has dark hair, midnight black, down to the middle of her back and thick. I can see her deep green eyes even from my spot toward the back. She’s wearing a blue dress, shimmering slightly in the ballroom spotlight, that hugs her ample curves. She looks a little overwhelmed as she smiles and waves hesitantly, and instantly I feel something stirring inside of me, something I didn’t expect.
She’s fucking gorgeous. I know the Tillmans, they’re old fucking money, the kind of people I despise. But Sadie herself doesn’t seem like the other rich girls. She’s not plain, far from it. She has a fascinating, beautiful look to her. That raven black hair is so interesting compared with the usual blondes and brunettes you see. She’s not extremely done-up, and doesn’t need to be. She’s clearly naturally beautiful, if a little shy.
“Do I hear two thousand for Sadie?” the woman says.
Several paddles raise, and there’s laughter across the ballroom. Th
e bidding continues, and I can’t stop staring at Sadie.
She’s alluring. Fucking gorgeous. How is a girl like her standing up on that stage, among these fucking animals? She’s a goddess and we’re the mortals tasked with worshipping her.
I want her. The thought hits me like a sledgehammer. I want her badly, have to have her. My attention is suddenly pulled back to the woman on the stage.
“Do I hear forty?” she asks, and another paddle raises. “Forty-five?”
Silence from the crowd. I frown, looking up at Sadie. She’s worth so much fucking more than forty-five thousand dollars.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I raise my paddle high in the air.
“Ah, the gentleman in the back,” the woman says. “Do I hear fifty?”
My opponent raises his paddle.
“Fifty-five?”
I raise my paddle.
“Sixty?”
He raises his.
“Sixty-five?”
“One hundred thousand,” I call out, raising my paddle.
There’s a stirring and a general murmur. The man I’m bidding against turns to look back at me, and I finally get a sense of him. He’s younger than everyone else here, younger than me. I think I recognize him, but I can’t be sure from the distance, and he quickly turns back.
“Two hundred thousand,” he says to the woman.
She looks taken aback. “Well, now, this is very generous.”
Sadie herself looks incredibly nervous, but she keeps smiling. I know she can’t see me, not with the spotlight in her eyes, but I don’t care.
I have to have her.
“Half a million,” I call out.
There’s an uproar as people cry out about the absurd amount of money. Sadie looks nervous. The drunk man next to me laughs and claps me on the back.
I don’t care about any of that. I only have eyes for Sadie, and I want this more than anything. The money doesn’t matter to me.