by Sierra Dean
It didn’t matter where she stood though, she was always a part of his orbit. He could feel the pull of her even with others around him, and whenever the photographers were done with him, he would gravitate back to her. A few intrepid reporters asked for her name so she could be appropriately labeled in photos, and he could tell they thought he was yanking their chain when he introduced her as Samantha Hart.
They were almost to the end of the red carpet, and in that space of a few dozen feet he’d introduced Sam to girls in sheer see-through gowns, with each one of them displaying a neckline more plunging than the last.
“I’ve never seen so many fake boobs,” Sam confessed when they had a lull between poses. “I’m feeling a little inadequate.” She laughed, her hands hovering over her chest as if to mimic where her tits ought to be.
Ethan pressed a kiss to her temple and resisted the urge to grope her in public. The behavior wouldn’t have been scandalous considering where they were, but in spite of Sam’s oral attentions in the limo, he suspected she wouldn’t like him to fondle her in front of photographers. He could feel her cheeks lift in a smile when he pressed his lips to her ear and said, “The only way you could improve your tits is by letting me have access to them more often.” He nipped her earlobe, and they continued down the gauntlet until a shout brought them both to a dead stop.
“Samantha,” someone called. “Samantha Hart, look over here.”
Sam’s head pivoted in the direction of the request, and Ethan trailed her gaze. They both saw the other woman at the same time, but Ethan processed who she was before Sam did.
The woman wore a ruffled yellow dress that was so short her butt cheeks hung out the bottom, and was cut so low in the front her enhanced chest was barely contained. She was tan to the point of absurdity, the orangey-brown tone that even a week in real sunlight couldn’t create.
Men with cameras bombarded her with shouts for attention, and she obliged each request, turning around so they could get a good rear view, even bending over to flash the small swath of material covering her pussy and casting the men a coy look.
From where he stood with Sam there was no mistaking the loopy glaze in Kelly’s eyes, and the way she wobbled on her platform heels was a dead giveaway that she was strung out. Judging by the smirk and the way she stared adoringly at the press, it was a pretty safe bet she was coked out of her skull. Kelly loved attention on a good day, but when she was high she needed it. It fed her demanding ego and kept her satisfied in a way no man could.
She turned to show a side profile, and that’s when she spotted Ethan.
Her expression faltered for a moment, not into guilt but confusion. It would be a cold day in hell when Kelly felt guilt while she was stoned, but some part of her obviously recognized that she should feel bad for running into Ethan like this.
She stumbled a half step but regained her balance. The cameramen followed her gaze to Ethan, and the shouts became cacophonous.
“Ethan! Samantha! Can we get you two together for a few shots? Ethan! You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart?” This latter must have been directed to his Sam, because she disentangled herself from him and took a step off to the side. But there was no missing the measured way she watched Kelly. He tried to hold on to Sam, but Kelly was soon at his side, draping over him like a blanket on a clothesline.
“Oh my God, Ethan, it’s so good to see you.” She tried to kiss him on the mouth, but he turned his head, giving her only his cheek. Even that felt too personal. He’d let some of the other girls press friendly pecks on his lips, but it was different with Kelly. He was pissed at her for the trouble she’d gotten him into, and he wasn’t in a position to tell her that with a hundred people watching them and filming the whole thing.
He took her by the elbow to steady her and angled them both towards the reporters, twisting his mouth into a tight smile. All the while his teeth were gritted together so hard he thought he might pop his jaw.
When the photographers were satisfied, he let her go, but before she could swish off he leaned in and said, “Where’s my money, Kelly?”
She gazed at him with innocent eyes that didn’t look at all convincing behind the false lashes and glittery eyeshadow. “What?”
“I have Julian riding my ass to repay that loan by tomorrow.”
“What loan?”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind? You can’t be that high. I need that money.”
Kelly staggered backwards a step so he would need to speak louder if they were going to continue talking, and he didn’t want anyone to hear what he had to say. Especially not Sam.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kelly said. “I don’t owe Julian any money.”
Ethan stared at her, trying to rein in his expression but failing hard as his mouth fell slack. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Her head bobbled side to side in an approximation of a headshake while she lifted her shoulders with an apologetic shrug. “I guess you’re mixing things up. Sorry, Ethan.” She blew him a kiss, and before he could pull her back, she continued her awkward walk down the red carpet.
Sam came up beside him, hesitantly looping her arm through his and following his chilly glare down after Kelly.
“What was that all about?” Sam asked, glancing up at him. “Jesus, Ethan. You look crazy right now. What happened?”
Ethan released the fists he’d balled his hands into and looped an arm around Sam’s waist so she wouldn’t see the fine tremor of rage shaking his extremities. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You just switched gears like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I’m not going to pretend nothing happened.”
His fingers tightened on her waist. “We shouldn’t let it ruin the night, okay? Let it go.”
Sam didn’t look like she wanted to simply drop it. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Ethan leveled her with a stare that was probably too intense given how angry he was, and Sam fell silent.
“We’ll talk about it later. I promise.”
Her crestfallen expression lightened somewhat, but her mouth remained in a thin line, showing no sign that she would fake a smile for him or any more photographers.
“If you’re mad about something, don’t take it out on me,” she warned, her voice low and deadly serious.
“You’re right and I’m sorry. I promise it has nothing to do with you.” He pulled her close and wrapped her in a full hug, not caring that they were still being photographed. He was amazed how much it mattered to him that she not be upset with him. In the past he might have told a woman to suck it up and stay out of his business, but he’d never met a woman like Sam. A good part of him wanted to tell her everything, just lay all his shit out and see if she could help him. She was a smart girl, a problem solver. If anyone could work their way around the cesspool he was swimming in, it would be Sam.
But he couldn’t do that.
If he wanted her to still like him, he couldn’t draw her into his drama. She wasn’t his girlfriend. Right now she was only a vacation fling. If he ever hoped to see her after they left Vegas, he couldn’t leave her with the impression that he was nothing but trouble.
No, he needed to sort this crap out on his own.
In the meantime, he needed to watch his temper.
And figure out what the hell he was going to do.
Chapter Thirteen
There was an award for Best Cinematography.
In porn.
In fact, with the exception of costuming, Sam was surprised to see all the major film award categories were represented at the AVAs.
She was wedged between Ethan and an actress who had introduced herself as Paprika. Just Paprika. Sam had introduced herself as just Sam to avoid any comparisons to the other Samantha Hart. She hadn’t been formally introduced to her porn star name-twin, but after seeing how Ethan had reacted to speaking with the other woman, Sam thought it best she not mention the name.
Though it was her name, which was making
introductions a bit tricky.
That was another thing about the awards ceremony she hadn’t expected. Everyone was so damned nice. Once she got past her deer-in-headlights reaction to all the nearly bare breasts and ample cleavage, she found she was meeting some of the sweetest people, which was unexpected from celebrities.
It wasn’t that she figured the girls would be bitches, but she thought she might experience some hostility, considering she was an outsider, and Ethan had brought her among them as his date. Instead she found herself engaging in a very animated discussion with Paprika and the woman sitting next to her—they were co-nominated for Best Girl-on-Girl Scene—about what book recommendations Sam could make to them.
Sam was grateful for their company, since Ethan had been brooding and quiet since they’d taken their seats, only offering her forced smiles and brief grunts of acknowledgment.
The behavior was similar to that he’d displayed the previous afternoon before taking her to see the lions. Sam tried not to read anything into it, since both of those instances had followed intimate moments between them.
Surely he wasn’t being moody about what had happened in the limo. He’d enjoyed himself, she knew that for damned certain. No, he’d been in an amazing mood until his run-in with Samantha Hart, so obviously the other woman had a direct hand in his sudden turn towards the surly.
A relationship gone wrong, perhaps?
Then why would their production company put them up in the same suite? Though perhaps that was why the other Samantha hadn’t shown up. Bad blood between old lovers?
But that didn’t seem right, either. Ethan had been forthright with her, and as far as she could tell he had no reason to start lying to her now. If he was being honest about his job, it would stand to reason he’d tell her about any past relationships with women she might run into.
Ugh.
Kyle had seriously screwed her up. One boyfriend cheated on her and suddenly Sam was looking for wrongdoings and assuming the worst. If Ethan said he was going to explain himself, she had to believe he would.
Where there’s smoke…
The little voice in her head needed to make up its mind. One second it was convincing her that backseat blowjobs were a good idea, the next minute it was chiding her for not being wary enough.
She would give Ethan the benefit of the doubt and wait to see what he had to say for himself.
When they reached the acting categories, Paprika grabbed Sam’s arm and gave it an excited squeeze. “It’s totally Ethan’s year,” she said. “He was so good in Wild Angels. There’s no way he’s not getting it.”
Sam nodded like she was familiar with Ethan’s work in Wild Angels, though she did make a mental note to check it out and see for herself if it was award-caliber work. The nominees were listed, and when the award was announced, it was Ethan’s name they called.
Unexpected excitement swelled through her as she slipped free of Paprika’s grasp and turned towards Ethan. As he rose, so did she, wrapping her arms around him in an excited hug she was unable to contain.
It was an award for acting in porn, yet Sam was thrilled for him.
He seemed equally surprised by her response, hesitating for a moment before returning her embrace. Before he left for the stage he cupped her face between both hands, planting a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.
As good as Ethan was at everything else, it was his kisses that were going to ruin her. He kissed like old romance heroes. Like Rhett Butler sweeping Scarlett O’Hara off her feet, or Heathcliff condemning Cathy to never love another. The orgasms he could conjure were so good she could write sonnets about them—if she had any writing talents—but it was his kisses that had totally bewitched her.
She sat down as he got to the stage, but couldn’t remember anything he said. The whole time he stared at her while holding the cheap brass award that had probably come from a generic trophy shop. Had she expected a gold-plated dildo?
Okay, so she sort of had.
He reclaimed his seat, and the moment he was beside her he put the award on the floor between his feet and took her hand instead, bringing her knuckles to his lips and kissing them so softly she might have imagined it if she hadn’t been looking right at him.
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, Ethan never once letting go of her hand, even as those around them stopped by to give their congratulations. By the time the awards were over he was on the edge of his seat, practically buzzing with energy to get to his feet.
“What do you have planned for us?” he asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
“A nice dinner. I hope. The place had good reviews online.” She didn’t want to give away that it was a celebrity chef restaurant, just in case she was mistaken about Ethan’s fandom.
“Sometimes I wish they had online reviews for sexual prowess,” he said, his familiar naughtiness returning, chasing back the darkness that had shrouded him for most of the evening. “You know, like Yelp, but for oral. I’d be booked for months. Especially since I only seat one.”
Sam smacked his shoulder with her free hand but couldn’t help laughing. “You think pretty highly of that tongue of yours.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “If you’re unconvinced, we could skip dinner and I could eat something else.”
Sam squealed lightly, turning away as her face flushed red. In spite of all the intimate contact they’d shared, he was still capable of making her blush with a mere turn of phrase.
“You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
She didn’t reply, but her silence spoke volumes. After a beat she said, “You don’t get the monopoly on good dates. We’ll go back to the hotel, but we are going to dinner first.” She was hoping they might get a chance to have a much-needed chat at the restaurant. She wanted some answers from him before she even considered falling into his bed.
Ethan chuckled. “Of course. I’m excited to see what you’ve got planned. You’re a wily minx, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Sam tried to ignore the way her tummy did a little flip every time he said love. But twice in a matter of minutes had her high-school-crush brain going into overdrive. She didn’t think love was in the cards, not quite yet, but it still gave her heart a gleeful skip every time to hear the L-word come out of his mouth so easily.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ethan suggested.
Sam didn’t have to be asked twice.
In the lobby of the MGM just off the main gaming floor, Ethan was stopped by a group of giddy female fans who wanted to pose for photos. Sam obliged them as they handed their iPhones over to her and left tiny Canon compacts dangling from around her wrists. Ethan was obviously popular with female viewers, a niche she hadn’t realized was so big in porn. These ladies were young and attractive, and Sam found it interesting that they watched enough porn to have a favorite star.
She’d seen him on screen though, and she knew how impossible it was to take her eyes off him. She was also intimately acquainted with how damned good he was, and any hint of that a viewer could glom on to, well…no wonder the ladies liked watching him.
Sometimes she wished she could step outside her body so she could watch.
Ethan gave each of the girls a kiss on the cheek while Sam returned their cameras to them. The flock went off, giggling like maniacs while they compared photos and commented on how nice he was.
“You’re the world’s most popular porn star,” Sam teased.
“I’m not Jenna Jameson, but I do okay.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and flipped the camera around so Sam could see them framed on the phone’s screen. “Want a photo with a celebrity?”
“Sure, do you know any?”
He kissed her at the same moment he clicked the icon. The image displayed, her grinning against his full lips, both their eyes closed and her fingers brushing against his stubble.
It was a great photo.
Which Ethan promptly posted to his Twitter account under the caption Evening o
ut with a beautiful lady.
Not my beautiful lady, but Sam wasn’t going to pick nits.
He’d just told the entire Internet he was with her.
At least for tonight.
They moved towards the exit, but before they reached the double doors, another group stepped up to stop them. They didn’t seem like the same type of fans, though, and Sam’s Spidey-sense went into high gear.
“Ethan…?”
There were three beefy men with close-cropped haircuts and faces so nondescript Sam would have been hard-pressed to recount any details at a later time. In the middle of the three giants was a middle-aged man in a crisply pressed, shiny black suit. Sam wasn’t familiar with any mafia thugs, but if she had to imagine one in existence, it would have been the guy in the suit.
“Leaving so soon, Mr. Silver?”
Ethan came to a full stop, his gaze darting from Sam to the four men. His fingers spasmed painfully on her arm, and though he relaxed his hand almost immediately, the response had been sudden enough she knew the situation couldn’t be good.
“I have plans, Julian.”
“Yes. Antoine and I are expecting you upstairs.” The man, Julian, inclined his head towards the elevators across the lobby. “I’m sure your lady friend will understand.” His cold eyes shifted to Sam, and he added, “Unless she wants to pay.”
Ethan pulled Sam backwards and stood half in front of her.
He was protecting her.
This situation was definitely bad.
“Ethan, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, my dear. I’m sure you thought you’d be spending a gratifying evening with your legs wrapped around Mr. Silver’s head, but you’ll need to lift your skirt for someone else tonight.”
“Excuse me?” Sam snapped, unable to keep herself from responding. She wasn’t a big fan of being colored as an easy slut by anyone, especially not a greasy scumbag in an ugly suit.