by Savannah May
I'm halfway across the floor when I notice Truan's hanging with the guys. He's got some kind of green power shake in his hand. He's lean and powerful compared to the almost doughboy drivers who do nothing but sit in their trucks and eat sugar all day.
He's already clocked me heading that way so I have to keep going. I was on too direct a course in my donut mission to veer off and make it seem like I was headed elsewhere. So I put determination in my stride even though my heart is banging against my breast.
Truan crosses his arms across his strapping chest and watches me wiggle across the room. The drivers are all doing the same because I can feel their eyes burning into me. Traveling up my legs, hips, tits as I sway. But it's his eyes that hold me fixed, I feel like I'm caged under him as he strokes in and out of my aching tunnel.
Christ, I have to stop with the filthy thoughts. He may be the hottest thing I've ever seen but he's also the biggest asshole and that's saying a lot.
It takes everything I've got to stroll confidently up to a row of guys holding sticky pastries halfway to their lips, in mid pause while they peruse the length of my body. But I need a favor so I let it ride.
“Hey guys, I wonder if anyone’s got a spare half hour to run a pick up for Knox in -”
I don't even get to complete my request. The drivers are all turning away, looking at their watches, with comments about an important assignment, not allowed to leave the set.
Seriously? Not one of you?
Fuck. I'm back to square one, figuring out how to pull this thing off.
“I'll do it,” Truan says.
The drivers look at him like he's crazy. And maybe he is, seeing as I've been kind of shitty to him recently and he actually is needed on set whereas they’re just a bunch of lazy douches.
“You will? Are you sure?” I mutter.
“Yeah I got it. Just give me an hour to finish this take then I'm on it,” he says like it's no biggie.
“Oh, um. Thank you then.”
“Don't mention it,” he replies, giving each of the drivers a steely stare as they throw him the eye.
“You'll need the address,” I say holding out the paper I jotted it down on back in Knox's trailer.
“Oh yeah, of course.”
It occurs to me that he's faking again. He doesn't really have any intention of running this errand if he forgot to ask for the deets. He takes the paper from me and I swear a wave of white pleasure rolls up my arm as his fingers graze mine. The pads hook onto mine momentarily and give a tiny twist as though he's going to pull me into his broad chest.
All the things I need him to do with those powerful thrusters march unasked for into my thoughts. I feel my cheeks color like a teenager. Truan's face sports a confused query that makes me pull my hand away fast with muttered thanks before disappearing back into the crowded set.
Truan
I thought I was going to lose my self control and crush her body against me again. I've already had a door slammed in my face and a sharp slap to it for picking her up off her feet. I could probably anticipate a ball crunching if I pulled her to me a third time.
But fuck did I want those delicious curves molding into me. Watching her strut her stuff toward us made my dick perk up to solid wood before she even made it halfway. Her shirt stretched tight across her luscious tits so the cups holding their weight are visible through the fabric. Her nipped in waist making her hips even rounder and that ass is fucking indescribable, round enough to fill my huge hands. She's a fucking climax on legs.
Yeah I'll do this fucking pick up for Knox but only because my sole concern is for Jenna. Maybe she'll feel a teensy bit of gratitude for my efforts and see I'm not the dick she imagines. The only good thing about yet another of Knox's fucking parties is I'll be able to get Jenna in a corner of the huge house and convince her of a couple things. Mainly that she and I are meant to be.
She might hate me now but by the time I'm through with showing her how good I can make her feel, she'll wish she'd never wasted time being mad when she could have been in ecstasy.
The stunt is a fucking breeze, pummeling some dude's face into the grit. Soon as his Lordship steps in for the close-up angles, I take off to run his errand. I tried to speak to him privately before I left. Warn him that if he pulls this shit on Jenna again I'm going to mess his face up so the only close-ups he'll be doing are from a hospital bed. But I don't get the opportunity as he's surrounded by cameras and taking direction.
I take the bike out to the pick up so as to get through freeway traffic faster. I'm back at the studio in under an hour and I consider taking the stuff direct to Knox myself and offering him my warning. But I don't want him to know I care about Jenna and am making it my business to look out for her. It'll only make him more alpha.
So I hunt Jenna down. I can't believe how jumpy I am with the prospect of seeing her sexy smile and sumptuous body. Not only my dick is leaping around in anticipation, my heart is doing a backflip thing that I don't even get before a killer dangerous stunt.
She thanks me as she takes the small parcel from my hand. I notice she's careful not to engage with my fingers this time.
“I have a party to go to,” she says when I try to initiate some light conversation.
“You don't need to go,” I reply. “We could go somewhere else. And talk.”
“I do actually, need to. I organized it. Knox needs me.”
“He'll manage without you..”
“I'm already running late,” she says. “And it'll take ages to get out there via transit.”
“At least let me drive you then.”
I'm gonna get her wrapped around me one way or another. Having her on the back of the bike is a good beginning. Those soft thighs gripping my pelvis. Fuck, my cock rears up just thinking about it. She looks seriously dubious about getting into a car with me. Then when we make it outside and she sees the big bike, more doubt creeps across her face.
“You don't have to do this. You can trust me to take care of Knox later.”
“Seriously you need to so stop trying to persuade me I don’t want to go.” She climbs on behind me and settles herself in.
I get it. She wants to hang with the movie star. Meet industry contacts and get herself in the mix. When I stop at a light I try one last time.
“Sure you're ready for the crowd at Knox's parties. Trust me they get crazy.”
“You'd know about that would you? A stunt man, his stand-in? You're one of his inside party people?”
“Actually I -”
“You don’t need to pretend to be something you aren’t to impress me. I saw you at the club. You're the same as the rest of us assistants and go-fers. Nothing but atmosphere.”
I kick off soon as the light tuns green.
“Yes, Ma'am.”
I turn sharp on the handlebars to pull a u-ie across four lanes.
“Are you fucking insane? You could have gotten us killed, in an accident or something. You think because you pull stunts all day you know how to take those risks in real life.”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“Well you risk you own life but kindly leave me with mine.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
“And stop saying that. Ma'am is your schoolmistress.”
“Now you're catching on.”
I feel the rage tense her body as her tits press into my delts. It's all I can do not to park on some swanky lawn and fucking ravage her.
I pull up at the electronic gates to the house and open them with my pass card.
“Evening, Ross,” I greet the guard in his box on the other side. “Getting crazy up there yet?”
“Not too bad.” The guard rolls his eyes.
He's hoping there won't be too much of a scene to clear up at the end of the night. Or cover up. I know where he's coming from. If I didn't need to keep my eye on sweet Jenna, I'd have found a way to skip this one.
ChapterEIGHT
Jenna
I have to fight not to clin
g to his huge muscles too hard as he tilts the bike on the steep switchback curves up into the hills. The streets suddenly become impossibly clean. Like someone stands out there picking up every piece of dirt and grit by hand.
Fury presses through my blood vessels. As we drive up higher the hills I plot all the ways I'm going to teach this guy a lesson. Not to be so damn full of himself. I may be a hick from Texas but I'm not a gullible idiot.
I can't see what's behind the high walls and electric gates lining the street. I've never been up here and it's as rarefied as I imagined, like entering Eden. If Eden had barriers keeping everyone out. We pull up at double gates and they slide miraculously open. The man inside the booth right inside nods his head at Truan like he was expecting him.
“Only about a thousand people,” he tells him, when Truan asks how it's going. “You have a good night, Sir.”
The wide drive is pristine white, like no car has ever soiled it with burning rubber or an oil spill. We roll through pristine trees and lush grass on either side and the house sits higher up, glowing with golden light like an alien ship landed on the bluff. It's enormous. I swallow the lump of nerves in my throat, determined not to act all fan girl. This is my world now. I'm a part of this albeit an invisible one, behind the scenes and expendable.
I want all this for myself.
The instant the bike rolls to a stop, a valet appears to help me climb off. I realize I'm severely under-dressed and so is Truan. He looks cool though in low slung jeans and tight tee, whereas I look - school marmy. After tossing the keys across the engine to the valet, he thrusts his hands down in his pockets and heads up the stairs into the house like he owns the joint.
Fuck, he's cocky. No respect for anyone. Well, that's gonna change.
“Coming in?” he asks, turning at the top of the stairs. I realize I'm rooted to the bottom step. He must think I’m scared.
“Of course,” I snap, stamping my heels up the white marble or polished stone, I can't tell. “I was just amazed at you acting like you live here or something.”
I'd like to smack the smug grin he gives me right off his face except his handsome features send those pangs of lust through my body that convert to a blush spreading across my cheeks. He grins harder as though he knows exactly what he's doing and I seriously would like to kill him.
He extends a hand as I stomp up the stairs. Like he thinks I might fall, or he'll escort me into the party. Or I need any more of his protection.
“Don't think I’m not grateful for what you did earlier but I got it from here,” I pinch out, “We don’t need to set tongues wagging by arriving together.”
“As you prefer, Ma'am,” he quips.
I glare at him and strut on past into the party.
Truan
I wander in behind her, enjoying her rear, and see her falter when she clocks the huge names standing around like they’re normal humans or some shit. She glances back at me but no way is she going to give in and come to my side where I want her.
“True, my man, how's it hanging?”
I couldn't have paid for a more priceless moment if I had every publicist in town on speed-dial. She turns with those pert lips in a perfect O that I'd really love to insert the head of my dick into and watches in complete shock as Tom Cruise bounds up to me, grabs my hand and gives it a shakedown.
She doesn’t know that I've stunted a couple of times for Tom, on some shit he wasn’t up to doing himself. We've become something like pals over the years. AS much as that's possible.
She also doesn't hear him say, “Listen Buddy, I wanna talk to you about the abseil. Let's get a drink.”
All she sees is him lead me away to the bar with the entitlement they all have, like whatever they want is theirs to take right now because they're superstars. I let myself be dragged along to advise him on how to deal with his latest stunt. But it appears to the room that we're homies because Tom's a genuine good guy.
Doesn't hurt that half the women in the room can't help but have their eyes pulled along with Tom's star magnet and some of that sparkle dust rubs off on me. They cast their ravenous eyes across me and I detect they linger a while. That means a fucking ton in Hollywood where you've got less than a millisecond to make an impression.
I hope she notices that.
Maybe she'll move along from the idea that I'm starstruck by these fuckers and give me the time of day as a real man.
I 'm enjoying myself for once, chatting with Tom, just two jocks leaning on the bar set up in front of the glass wall, looking out over the infinity pool and Hollywood beyond. The twinkling city lights look like a world of stars in its own universe. Which in a way it is.
Most of my pleasure derives from watching Jenna edge her way around the room, trying to blanket her nerves and find a place to insert herself. I'm not enjoying her discomfort. I'm just praying it's going to lead her back to me. And I'll be more than happy to relieve her.
I grin a satisfied smile that I hope is on the fulfilled rather than smug side. I kissed Jenna on the Manhattan set and didn't get another slap for my efforts. And I'll tell you why.
She might think she hates me and doesn't believe a word I say because she wants to believe in the hero superstar. But she's clinging to the idea that Knox Templeton is the good guy and I'm the bastard. It's normal human behavior sadly. If you're gorgeous you’re always perceived to be better than ordinary folk. Double that ten times over if you're a celeb.
Just look at what you can get away with when you're famous. All the way up to murder. I told her movie stars have lost touch with the real world but now I think of it, Knox always had a flexible relationship with real life. He could lie to parents or teachers without blinking. I thought it was what made him a good actor.
Now I think he's a psychopath.
So right now she's not rooting for the little guy. But the way she kissed me back cannot disguise how badly her body is craving to be touched and taken. It won't be long before Jenna is beneath, me gasping and moaning as I rock a powerful rhythm inside her, making her mine in no uncertain terms.
Fuck she is the sweetest sexiest little thing I have ever known. She was completely unaware of how her hand came up to my chest then clasped my thick bicep as she quivered through my kiss. I'm waiting none too patiently for both hands clutching me as she screams out for more of my cock plunging into her.
When her eyes are dragged back to me and find me trailing her, she glares at me and does her little foot stomp thing out to the pool patio. There's another bar out there and she heads straight over for a safe place to lean. I guess she didn't feel like getting up close to me. That's fine. There's no exit from the pool so she can't get away without running into me again.
I've got time to wait.
Jenna
I am currently a high-functioning nervous wreck. On the outside I'm moving casually around this party like I'm completely relaxed. On the inside I want to hide behind the curtains. Except they’re some kind of high tech diaphanous fabric designed to shield the sunlight by day and create a romantic ambiance by night.
Truan is watching every step I take and maybe he sees through my calm and collected facade.
From that fucking smug grin, I'm betting that's a yes.
So as not to entertain him further with my humiliation, I step outside and nearly fall in the damn pool. A few skinny girls standing at the far end, all wearing identical dresses they stole from their five year old sisters, that's how tiny they are, stare at me too long. Enough to make me want to dive in and cool the heat rising to my cheeks.
I move to the bar and, oh shit, “Sorry”, I mumble.
Oh shit, yes that was Amy Schumer I just crashed into. And five feet away Bradley Cooper is talking to a bunch of studio execs, judging by the business casual they're wearing with no socks.
Absolutely everyone out here is staring at me.
Okay, they're not, but I cannot convince my self otherwise. There's no path of escape to the side of the house and I can't go back
inside and face Truan's gloating. He told me not to come here. He knows I don't belong.
I move as far away from the light spilling out onto the patio through the solid glass wall, edging along to some trees at the end. I'll nurse my confidence back into some sort of shape, svelte enough to face the glamor throng again. This was a bad idea. I only came to speak to Knox and I haven't even seen him here. Truan was right. I should have gone home.
At the far end of the house, there's an amazing kitchen, open plan, with acid drop yellow cabinets and a black rough stone worktop on an island bigger than my bedroom in the apartment I share.
Bigger than anyone's bedroom. Even my parents back in Texas. If I slip back inside, no one will notice me. I can call a cab and get out of here.
The instant I enter the house, a couple wander into the kitchen and he, oh my god that's – it is, I have to stop naming names and being so excited about hanging with my favorite actors and actresses. Christ, he pulls the woman in for a passionate screen kiss and yanks up her tight mini dress around her waist. She's wearing a piece of dental floss in place of underwear and as he pushes his hand between her thighs, I can't watch any more.
I shrink into a dark corner and down the narrow hallway I discover there. This must be the maid's quarters. Maybe she can help me out here. I knock on the door and it gives, so I step inside. I hear voices, or human noises at least and I move deeper along a narrow antechamber into the room.
“Hallo,” my voice comes out like a squeak, my throat betraying the nervousness I've been repressing.
Who would paint their room this dark purple, close to black color, floor to ceiling? The maid must be a ghoul. My eyes adjust to the gloom and I swallow the knot in my throat that rebounds immediately.
Oh fuck. This is no maid's room.
In the center of the space, three women, are attached to a trio of crosses in a semi circle, black ties strapped around their wrists and ankles. They're each blindfold and gagged, naked aside from massive high heels. Their arms are spread wide, but their legs are spread wider, making me blush. A lone man stands before them, wearing something around his waist, like the wide belts deliverymen wear to protect their low back.