by Candy Gray
“So, you’re a fall kinda guy?”
“Fall and spring,” I said. “My daughter loves the different colors that bloom and fade.”
“I’m a summer gal,” she said. “Give me the beaches and bikinis and sun-kissed men any day.”
“The beach and the mountains both have their appeal.”
“Hot tub or bathtub?” she asked.
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“Depends. Do you wanna play?” She shot me a sultry look while someone started curling her hair around a massive iron, and the thought of getting to know her better honestly sounded nice. So, I decided to indulge her little fantasy of twenty questions with her bodyguard.
“Bathtub,” I said. “Being naked with a woman is always better than being clothed.”
“Oh, sounds scandalous,” she said with a smirk.
“Morning or night?” I asked.
“Night. I love how it blankets the world and makes it seem more mysterious.”
“So, you’re a mystery kinda gal?” I asked. “Does this mean our next date should be at a mystery theater?”
“You know, I’ve never been to one of those,” she said.
“Hold still.” The makeup artist painted her lips quickly with this deep shade of purple, and I sat back and waited for her to continue. I wanted to know more about her as we got to talking, and part of me was pissed that some makeup gal was interrupting the flow in conversation.
“You should go. They’re nice. I went once before I had my daughter. Figured that shit out, too.”
“Oh, strong and smart,” she said. “Two for two.”
“Photoshoots or movies?” I asked.
“Photoshoots, definitely. Less time, less costume changes, and less barking of orders.”
“Got that right,” the makeup artist said.
“I have a question that isn’t an ‘either-or’ one,” she said.
“Shoot. I’m an open book.”
“Did Lacey’s mom die in childbirth?”
I felt my blood run cold with the words that descended upon my ears. She’d obviously been thinking about that moment in the car when she’d asked me about Lacey’s mother and I didn’t answer. I couldn’t blame her for being curious, but it was highly hypocritical that she would ask me about such a personal moment without revealing the personal reason why I was here to take care of her.
“That probably would’ve been better,” I said.
“Wow, what’d she do?” she asked.
“Tried to abort her, then tried to give her up for adoption against my wishes. I legally intervened and collected me daughter, and then, she took off.”
“What the fuck?” she asked. “Who the hell would do something like that?”
“A raging bitch that didn’t deserve the daughter she popped out.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeffries.”
“Thomas,” I said.
“What?”
“If we’re gonna get this personal, just call me ‘Thomas’, Miss Meyers.”
“Then it’s ‘Bridget’ to you,” she said with a grin.
“All right, you’re all set,” the makeup artist said.
“Thank god,” Bridget said. “My ass is numb.”
“Stand up and jiggle it a bit, that always helps me,” I said.
“You’d like that little show, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“Hey, I was just helping out,” I said, while I raised my hands in mock surrender.
I followed her out to the photoshoot, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. They had her changing into different outfits in a corner before she walked onto this cloth that was draped around bars, and she looked absolutely stunning. Fans blew her hair back, and those plump lips were pushed out for a massive pout. Her tits were shoved to her chin, and her ass jutted out, beckoning for the dick that was throbbing in my pants.
She was a gorgeous woman, and she had me entranced with the poses she took. Some of them were of her laughing, and some of them were of her crawling on the ground. Some were simply smiles, and some had mysterious undertones, but the one I enjoyed the most was when she looked over at me. Her eyes lit up, and a playful grin creeped across her face. The photographer seemed excited to catch her in such a vulnerable moment before she peeled her gaze from mine and started showing off for the camera again.
It was the first time in my entire career I’d ever been focused on the person instead of their surroundings. I finally started clocking entrances and exits and studying the people in the room, but every single time my eyes came back to her, she was looking over at me.
Making sure I didn’t go anywhere.
Whatever the hell this beautiful woman had gotten herself into, it was rattling her to her core.
And I was determined to figure out what it was.
Chapter 5
Bridget
I looked at the clock when the photoshoot was finally over and realized it was well past four. Thomas had kept his eyes on me the entire time, and my skin tingled with every gaze he fluttered in my direction. There was one moment where he walked up beside the photographer and was watching all the pictures he was taking, and the light casted just the right angle, straight onto his cock, and I couldn’t stop staring. It looked like he had this huge dick sitting behind those pants, and my lips strained with desire from wanting to wrap themselves around it.
I was thankful that no more outfit changes were needed because I had definitely spilled into the panties I was wearing. I walked off set and was given a few of the articles of clothing. I thanked the designer for letting me keep them. That was one of the perks that came with photoshoots that I absolutely loved, but the best part was when some of the artists were willing to hand over their hair and makeup products as well.
I didn’t have any this time, but the clothes were phenomenal, and I felt satisfied for the day.
But then, it hit me. What time did Lacey get out of school?
“Thomas!” I called out.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“When are you supposed to get Lacey from school?”
“Not a problem. My parents picked her up at three-thirty. They knew I’d be gone until eight.”
“No, no,” I said. “You go home. I’ll still pay you until eight. It’s your daughter’s first day at school, and she’s probably wanting to tell you all about it.”
“Are you sure? Because my parents are with her until eight.”
“I’m sure,” I said while we started for the car. “And I’ll still pay you until eight. Go be with your daughter.”
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
We pulled up in front of my house, and Thomas was kind enough to see me in before he headed out. I stood inside the doorway, watching that tight ass of his all the way to his car. He looked back and waved before he finally left. It felt nice to do something good for him, especially with all he was doing for me, keeping me safe and whatnot. But my pussy was still throbbing from getting an eyeful of that cock he had in his pants, and I was thankful for the alone time.
I waved my driver off before turning toward my stairs, and I took them two by two to get up to my room. I wanted to shower and get all this powder and shit off my body, but what I was really gunning for was that removable showerhead.
I started the shower and got it running as hot as I could stand it before I ripped all my clothes off. I walked out and tossed them on my bed before I sank to my knees, and I pulled a small tote out from underneath my bed and unlatched the hinges. I kept all my fun toys in this little leather case, dildos, butt plugs, and blindfolds. I had to really keep a lid on my sex life, which meant I had to be very picky on who I slept with, and that meant I was usually giving myself most of my orgasms.
I couldn’t risk someone leaking shit to the media and having my freak ways plastered all over the screen, so I indulged in the finest toys the country had to offer in order to get my rocks off.
I pulled out a glittery purple dildo that had veins
running over it like a real dick. It was thick and juicy, just like the cock I knew Thomas had in those slacks of his. I took it to the shower and stepped in with it. The water flowed over my painfully puckered nipples while I lathered my body in suds, and as the foundation-tinted water swirled down the drain, Thomas’s lips came to mind.
I thought about him placing sloppy wet kisses all along the crook of my neck while I ripped that suit coat of his off. I bet he liked to nip and leave marks on the women he slept with, and I shivered at the thought of him sucking my nipples until they turned red with anger. I tweaked my nipples and pulled at them while the hot water peppered my skin in its red trails. My thighs squeezed together when the wetness of the water mingled with the wetness of my pussy.
I thought about those thick, meaty arms picking me up like a ragdoll and shoving me into the wall. I bet that thick cock would gravitate toward my tight pussy like a horse to water, and suddenly, I saw him diving between my legs.
“Shit,” I said breathlessly.
I reached up and plucked the showerhead from its holster and changed it until just a thin stream of water was shooting from its center. I laid myself down onto my massive shower floor, grabbed the glittering purple dildo, and slipped it easily into my center. I closed my eyes and slid it in, inch by inch, groaning at the idea of Thomas sliding his raging cock deep into my body. I felt my pussy clench around it, and I envisioned how his face would scrunch up in pleasure. I bet that shiny forehead of his would wrinkle while he furrowed his brow and grunted with every centimeter that dove into my hot depths.
“Shit, Thomas,” I said. “You’re so big for me.”
I spread my legs wide and let the stream of water slowly glaze over my folds. I imagined his piercing blue eyes begging me to look at him while he took me everywhere he wanted. I saw us against the wall and on the bed, in my agent’s office and in the back of my car. I saw him leaning me over the kitchen table and pulling his dick between his zipper because he couldn’t resist how mussed I looked in the morning, and I shook when my swollen clit finally emerged from underneath its hood and sought out the thick stream of water.
“Oh, fuck. Thomas.”
My body undulated into the water while my free hand gravitated toward my ass. I saw him teasing that massive cock against my asshole, threatening to tear it apart while I begged for mercy. I popped my finger through the tight constraints of my little hole, just as the water found the tip of my clit, and all at once, my body began to quiver. I shook at the idea of Thomas filling both of my holes with his dick and my toys, his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming out in the broom closet of my newest movie set.
This man was fucking me up, and when my orgasm finally barreled across my body, I shot that dildo out from between my legs and felt my juices flowing out onto the shower floor.
“Thomas! Shit! Yes. Just like that. Oh, fuck that asshole. Come on. Give it to me good.”
My body collapsed into a puddle while the showerhead fell from between my fingers. I laid there, staring up at the clouds of steam with my jaw unhinged. I’d never had a world-shattering orgasm like that while I masturbated before, and I blamed it on the eye candy I now had to stand around every single day until my life could get back on track.
Maybe then, I could experience what kind of orgasm his own cock could give me.
But right now, all I had to go on was my memories, my fantasies, and that bulge behind his pants.
Chapter 6
Thomas
I was sitting in Bridget’s kitchen, waiting for her to get up. She’d finally given me a key to her house, and we’d worked out a schedule where I could still drop off and pick up Lacey from school, and it showed me a lot about her personality. It meant she gave a shit about the life I had outside of my job, and not many high-profile clients cared about that kind of thing. Even my parents were impressed, which was a feat, in and of itself. They were protective of me and my daughter, ever since her mother pulled all the bullshit she did, and my mother was worried when she figured out who I was guarding.
I sat there sipping a cup of coffee as I heard a crash on the floor. I hopped up and pulled my gun from my holster and started running up the stairs. I cleared the corners, making my way to her room. All sorts of thoughts started running through my mind: someone had followed me in, or someone had come through her window. She’d brought someone home from somewhere, and they were trying to take advantage of her, or maybe she had been poisoned.
I didn’t know what the hell this young woman had gotten herself into, but sometimes, her nerves would get the best of her, and it would make me nervous by proxy.
I slowly crept toward her bedroom door with my gun trained in front of me. I paused to see if I could hear more sounds coming from the room before I reached out for the doorknob. I twisted it and threw the door open, scanning the room for the intruder or the broken glass from her window, but all I found was Bridget, slowly pulling herself from the floor.
“Good god, do you knock?” she asked.
“Bridget.” I rushed to her side and helped her to her feet, and then I had to help her untangle herself from her comforter.
“Rough night?” I asked.
“Bad dreams. The hell you doing, barging into my room like that?”
She was fully uncensored, and I heard a bit of an accent charge through. It was amusing how unfiltered she was right now, but I was also relieved that she was all right.
“I heard you hit the floor, and I came running,” I said. “Wasn’t sure what was going on.”
“Well, lucky me for my knight in shining armor.”
“Not the happiest without coffee, I see.”
“I can smell it,” she said. “Did you make some? Can I have some?”
“Of course, it’s your house,” I said with a grin. “Come on. Let’s get you downstairs, and I’ll make you a cup.”
The two of us made our way down the hallway and to the stairs, and it gave me a chance to study her. She had on no makeup, no airbrushing techniques, and no fancy clothes. Her pajamas were merely baggy plaid pants and a large shirt, and somehow, she still seemed sexy as hell. Her hair was mussed and tangled, and her face had a red tint of frustration to it, and as I helped her down the stairs, I could feel the exhaustion still aching in her bones.
“Really rough night?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
I knew there was something she was holding back. Between her nervous ticks that set my nerves aflame and this nightmare that seemed to rob her of her sleep, something was haunting her memories, and she was obviously scared. As she slowly began to wake up, I watched her eyes dart around the room a bit more, and I mindlessly slipped my arm around her waist to help her into the kitchen.
“Whatever’s going on, don’t be so scared,” I said. “I’m here, and you’re fine.”
She flopped down into the kitchen chair, and I started making her a cup of coffee. I looked over at her every now and again, and she’d put her head in her hands. A few times, her head jerked, like she had fallen asleep at the table. Whatever she was hiding, I was going to figure it out. It was obviously plaguing her to a point where she felt she needed me, and if I could do my job and rid her of the anxiety, she could go back to living her life free of the fear she was experiencing.
There was something inside of me that desperately wanted to give that to her.
I topped off my mug of coffee before I brought the two mugs over to the table. I set one down underneath her nose, and she jerked up again, her eyes red with sleeplessness and her nose puffy with agitation.
“You know, you’re probably one of the only women in Hollywood who doesn’t need all those makeup techniques,” I said. It simply slipped out, like a passing comment in a conversation you’d have with an old friend, and a part of me locked up and was waiting for her to fire me on the spot.
But instead, all she did was grab ahold of her mug and lift her gaze to meet mine.
“You’re an idiot,
” she said. “I look like hell.”
“Hardly. You look like you had a rough night, but that doesn’t mean you don’t look good.”
“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
I could tell she didn’t believe me, but that wasn’t the point. The point was how easy it was to tell her something like that when I was technically under her employment. I knew I was toeing a very serious line between a business relationship and a harassing one, so I clamped my mouth shut and just drank my coffee alongside her at the table.
“You’re not too bad looking yourself,” she said.