“Nice.” This felt good. Finally we were communicating, getting to know one another.
“Yup. Well, you know, I got my training to be a director that way. Plenty of drama all around, even off set. There was a ball-buster lawyer from Long Island who spoke through her nose, an Italian who had a Chihuahua she used to carry around in her handbag, a skinny Polish woman who used to pinch us when my dad wasn’t looking, a gold digger from Iowa who wore false eyelashes that used to fall into her soup, and a Jamaican beauty queen called Rebecca. She—Rebecca, I didn’t forget in a hurry.”
“Because she was beautiful?”
“Because I lost my virginity to her.”
My Coca Cola went down the wrong way and I spluttered, “Your dad’s wife? How old were you and how old was she?”
“I was fourteen. Guess she must have been a good ten years older.”
“And you were okay with that? I mean, sneaking around behind your dad’s back? I’m assuming he didn’t know about it?”
“He was away on location for the best part of a year and was shagging someone else. Who was I to turn down beautiful Rebecca’s advances?”
His story was amazingly “normal”—by Hollywood standards, anyway. I’d heard worse case-scenarios.
“This town is so screwed up,” I murmured. “So then what happened? What became of Rebecca the beauty queen?”
“She must have gone back home. I remember lots of fighting and arguments. My dad isn’t an easy man to live with.”
“Powerful men can be difficult. Especially when they’re disobeyed.”
“And megalomaniacs worse.”
I locked my eyes with his. “And you? Has it rubbed off on you? Are you a ‘megalomaniac’?”
He threaded his hand agitatedly through his hair. “I like to be in control.”
“Don’t we all.”
“And that’s why this is so hard for me, Star—because I’m losing it with you.” He slipped his hand up along my thigh. Very slowly. My breath hitched at the suddenness of it all. I hadn’t been expecting this. Just five minutes ago he didn’t want anything to do with me.
“You see, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he said in his cool English voice—so husky, so gravely—still with his hand on my leg. He leaned in closer, his messy hair flopping over his face.
I closed my eyes and couldn’t help but let my senses go. His fingertips explored the soft flesh of my upper thigh and his thumb brushed past my panties, scraping the fabric of the cotton.
“You’re wet, baby,” he murmured.
“I’m not your baby.” It came out as a growl, but soon that growl turned into a purr—what he was doing felt sooo good, so sensual, I couldn’t slap his hand away. I arched my back so I was closer to him. It was true; I was slippery wet. I felt two long fingers ease their way inside me and I moaned quietly. Then his thumb pressed onto my clit as he slid his fingers in and out. I heard a guttural groan coming deep from within him, reverberating in his strong chest where I laid my head. All he had on was his swim shorts—the towel having lost itself at some point—shot loose earlier by the strength of his rock-hard boner, which must have pinged it out of the way like a catapult.
We still hadn’t kissed. Romance was obviously the last thing on his mind. He thought he had me—thought he had me all worked out. The One Sure Thing. Star Davis: the easy one who’d fuck any hot guy in the blink of an eye.
How wrong he was. And I couldn’t wait to see his face when I told him.
And watch him sweat it out.
Just like all the others.
MY COCK WAS ON FIRE. Two weeks of pent up energy—I had a serious case of blue balls. And here was probably the sexiest, most beautiful woman I had ever known (and fuck, I’d known a lot) languidly inviting me to give it to her, right there, right then. Coming on to me for days, now. Tempting me by degrees. And I was burning. We both were. She was hotter than Hades, her long lean legs splayed beautifully across the couch, her tight wet pussy welcoming my fingers as I drove them in and out of her slowly, building her up to what I knew was going to be one long mind-blowing fuck and explosive climax.
I edged my way closer and with my other hand cupping her chin, I took in the vision of her beautiful face. There it was again; innocence mixed with a sort of wicked gleefulness. I moved my hand carefully up to the pearl of her ear, threading my fingers through her luscious, thick blond hair and took a fistful of it in my hand, bringing her face close to mine and resting my lips on hers. She let out a whimper and parted her mouth. I could smell her—all of her: strawberries, flowers, sex, her soft minty lips touching mine and, although I wanted to jump her immediately, there was something unexpectedly sensual about prolonging the kiss. She blinked at me—that guilelessness again—confounding me, confusing me—and sending shivers through my body—blood rushing to my groin. I was huge. I could feel her breath on my lips. I touched my tongue quietly with hers, just the tips as if we were teenagers—and a bolt of electricity shot straight to my rock-hard dick. Fuck! Now that I thought about it, she was still a teenager! Jesus! Still only nineteen. Practically jail bait. And however much she’d screwed around—which I knew she had—I still needed to respect that. But I couldn’t. I brushed my tongue along the seam of her full lips and flashes of fucking her on the sofa, on the floor, up against the wall, then in the shower, had me moaning into her mouth, my tongue tangling with hers, probing her, invading her.
She grabbed my hair as we breathed each other in. “You’re beautiful, Jake,” she said. My cock flexed at her sweet words and my hand slid down the base of her neck, across her slim shoulder, down to her pert breast. My fingers found her hard nipple, which I rolled between my thumb and forefinger, pulling at it hungrily. She groaned. She thrust her hips forward and I traced my fingers down her smooth taut stomach to her hot pussy. I plunged my fingers inside her slit and felt her liquid heat. My mouth latched onto her tit and I sucked greedily, then let go and flicked my tongue on her teat as she screamed out.
“Oh, God, Jake!”
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I groaned, breathing in her sweet scent, nuzzling my head down, down, further down—licking as I went. I could smell her; sweet and salty. I took out my fingers and pushed her legs wide apart, delving into her with my nose, letting my tongue circle her hard nub, round and around until she was crying out for me. I could tell she couldn’t wait for my cock to split her open and fuck her good and hard.
My hands cupped her worked-out butt as I brought her close to me. Tantalizing her soaked center was turning me on like crazy. Alternating between fucking her with my tongue and flicking it on her clit, I lifted her hips to my face as she rocked her hips back and forth at me.
“This feels incredible, Jake. Oh God. You’re amazing.”
She’d fucked so many guys and I knew I was going to be just another notch on her bedpost. We were birds of a feather. But shit, I didn’t care. Well, I did, but my dick didn’t. He wanted to get off. Release himself into her tight little haven. He had a personality of his own. A brain of his own and all he was saying was, Make her scream, make her come, then fuck her and make her come again.
Star continued rocking her hips back and forth, fucking my mouth. I pressed my tongue flat against her clit as she slammed herself against me. “I’m gonna come,” she whimpered.
Knowing I was giving her so much pleasure was making me harder than I think I’d ever been before. Huge, throbbing, thick and wide—in a few seconds I’d ram her full and fuck her till she detonated all over me. She was groaning now and started coming on my tongue, I could feel her contractions as she grabbed my head with her hands, thrashing about beneath me, screaming my name.
When she’d finished moaning and was easing into a blissful after-cum stupor, I edged my way onto the sofa, pinning her beneath me, my knees either side of her thighs.
“I’m going to really fuck you now, Star. Are you ready, baby?”
Her eyelids fluttered as if she was high on drugs—out of it—in h
er post-orgasmic rush. I slipped myself between her hot, sticky thighs and the huge crown of my cock throbbed at her entrance. I’d start slowly, I’d fuck her clit until she’d beg me to thrust all of myself into her. Hard. It felt so good as I slipped in a millimeter.
But suddenly she “awoke” with a start, her thighs clamping me with invincible strength like some super hero—Lara Croft—a cartoon character with inhuman powers. “Oh no you don’t, Mr. Director.” She levered me off her, her hands pushing hard at my shoulders.
Confusion danced in my sex-crazed brain. She wasn’t fucking joking.
“What the hell’s wrong, Star?”
“Party’s over, Jake. I’m serious—this is as far as I go.”
“What the fuck?” I said, and Dick screamed even louder at me, Yeah, what the fuck, man????
“I’m a virgin,” Star whispered.
I laughed. “Yeah right. And pigs can fly!”
Star gave me another push. “I’m not kidding around. I’m a virgin, Jake!” Her eyes were moist and she looked terrified. Of me. Like I could rape her or something. A tear slid down her cheek. Was this for real? Or was she acting?
I shook my head. Of all the stories and rumors I’d heard about Star Davis, this was something I had not imagined in my wildest dreams. And when I say “Wildest” I’m aware of my play on words. “But—”
She cut me off. “I’m not the person you hear about on the news, Jake Wild. Fooling around is one thing. But I don’t actually fuck. Not you, not anybody. My chastity is precious. More precious than any movie negotiation, and certainly more precious than any short-lived relationship.”
My face twisted into a contorted mess of bewilderment. “But—” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. What the hell is she playing at, going around being such a prick teaser?
“Why?” I rasped, unable to process my thoughts. That was my only question: Why, why, why? What was in it for her to have a reputation for being so promiscuous?
“My mom gave me a really sound piece of advice. She said, ‘Star, you can sell your talent but you must never sell either (a) your soul, or (b) your virginity because those two things are one-time offers. And you’d better make damn sure that the only person taking your soul is the Lord himself, and the only person taking your virginity is the man who’ll love you unconditionally and eternally. No negotiation. Amen.’ ”
Jesus, she’s some fucking religious nutter, born-again freak! I said nothing. Was this girl for real? I eyed her up lasciviously. Her skimpy, non-outfit riding up her thighs, her tussled mane of hair cascading over her shoulders, her pouting lips—all designed to conquer men. Her sex appeal was not just by accident. She worked on it, nurtured it.
She raised her brows haughtily. “You want me?” she challenged.
Yes, I fucking wanted her. Course I did. I was on fire. I’d sampled the goods and they were . . . delicious. I was hooked. Already obsessed. Knowing she was no longer “on offer” made her all the more tantalizing. The male mind—want what you can’t have: a cliché, for sure. But fuck! I simply couldn’t go there. A nineteen-year-old was bad enough, but a virgin? A virgin, prick-teasing control freak who was playing major head games with those around her. Star was now “hard to get” and like most spurned men snared in that category, I was caught in her Black Widow web. What a fool I was. My breath was short, my heart pounding like a lion cornering his kill but with a hunter at my side, after me. The hunter being Star herself. Diana. Artemis. With a fucking bow and arrow at my throat. Moral blackmail, in a word.
“You want me?” she echoed, running her tongue along her soft lips—those beautiful red lips that I’d kissed only moments before. She eased her way up the sofa, still pushing me off her and she sat up. Double messages. So tantalizing. So luscious. But pure as the driven fucking snow. She flicked her head cockily, her blond mane tossed aside the way she was tossing me aside like used Kleenex. She’d had her fun. Satiated. Satisfied—her orgasm having ripped through her body like the seventh wave while I was still drooling for more like a dog hoping for a meager scrap.
But I couldn’t let on that she had got to me. And I needed to overcome Dick’s desire and walk away. Now. Before it was too late. I couldn’t take on the responsibilities of a virgin. It would end in tears. I’d break her heart somewhere along the line and, yes, I was a commitment-phobe-sex-addict. A recipe for trouble with women who wanted “more.” And let’s face it, all women want more.
As I regarded her incredulously, still wondering if her “virgin” talk was a load of crap, Star went on, “If you want me Jake—I mean really want me? You’re going to have to work a lot harder and prove to me you’re worthy, which I very much doubt you are, by the way.”
“Worthy? Worthy enough for you?” I chuckled. Man, was she full of herself.
“Yes, that’s right. My name is Star, after all. And I live up to my name.”
I sat up. “Don’t worry, babe. You can keep your precious virginity.” I winked at her. “Keep it safe from me because I’m way too bad for you. My name is Wild. And I live up to my name.” I said this, meaning it. But my cock—Dick Dastardly (or rather, Dick Bastardly), with his dumb, one-track “brain” of his own, had different ideas. He wanted Star. Badly. But I, Jake, had to be strong.
Because if I wasn’t careful Star and I would end up playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
Brian was right: she and I had met our match.
And that match, I feared, was about to be struck and cause one hell of a fire . . .
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Shooting Star (Beautiful Chaos) Page 7