Stunt: Hollywood Bad Boy Romance

by Savannah May

  As she again tries to tear herself away from me, I haul her back so her body crashes right into my solid chest like she's run up into a barricade. I feel her delicious fucking tits squash into my abs and I want them naked and bouncing for me as she rubs her fingertips across her hard clit, forcing me to endure my torture of desire while I enjoy her pleasure. She cannot have forgotten any of that.

  Her breath is coming in little pants and I hold her against me with one hand overlapped around her tiny upper arm as I lean down and grit into her ear.

  “Haven’t I already made you aware that I'm looking out for you despite the shitty opinion you have of me? And that you needed that spanking bad before you turn into one of the bratty movie stars you hang out with. It appears you need another one which I am not above giving you right here, right now in front of the entire crew.”

  Good that got her quietened and paying me attention.

  “Now I said wait for me. I expect you to communicate whatever the problem is that's developed over the past hour and I expect you to be here waiting when I get back.”

  I leave go of her and turn away from her shocked open mouth. She may think I'm a big soft guy but when I need to get strong with her, I will.

  “Good to go, True?” The director speaks into my ear on the earpiece, buried so I can receive instructions. The stunt director and the expert brought on for this gig recheck the wire attached to a harness they're fitting on my back.

  The adrenalin is starting to fill my veins. I fucking love that feeling. The excitement coursing through my muscles. I get to base jump off cliffs and smash up cars and get paid for it.

  This take I'm going flying. When I get through beating up a band of ninjas, I fall into a trap and then leap from a top floor window. I catch a wire hanging from a window cleaning box suspended halfway up the facade and continue falling at increasing velocity until the load comes on and takes me flying through the air in a free fall flight around the building. It's going to be a fucking blast.

  Jenna

  Truan walks away from me with the humble but strong stance he apparently takes throughout life.

  “I'm here, ready to roll guys.” He vaults across a parked car's hood and hits his spot. Instantly in character and ready to be attacked by four ninjas that drop down the wall out of the sky. I'm mesmerized watching how agile his ripped muscles can become. He moves like a dancer on crack as he kicks and whirls, taking out all four.

  It's all been choreographed by the martial arts expert brought in by the fight director but still, it looks so natural. I'm breathless watching Truan take out four men, one on each limb.

  The dangerous part of the stunt has yet to occur though. As he walks away from the altercation, he's caught in a trap set by his attackers and a rope loop tightens around his ankle. It sends him reeling upwards feet first until he's dangling upside down against the side of the glass building waiting for the drug lord to slit his throat.

  He looks so damn sexy in the fitted black suit. The white dress shirt is cut perfectly to highlight the taut ripples of his stomach. Even the thin belt circling his virile hips sends delicious images to my mind. Hints of anticipation for what could have been between us. If he hadn't ruined everything.

  He's so strong, power exudes from his pores and fills the air even when he's doing nothing but standing in front of a girl holding her arm.

  The three major stunt scenes are going to take most of the night. I can't wait around for him. And I won't let him tell me who's boss.

  ChapterSEVENTEEN

  People are glued to the scene with an air of excitement. Eager to see the daring stunt now the set up is finally complete. Many give me the side eye as I move between them, trying to figure what the hell I'm going to do. I'm squirming from being the focus of attention.

  Which is a little strange for a girl who came out here wanting exactly that. But Truan does strange things to me.

  They're clearly curious what I was in a snit about with him, the hero of the night. I guess I sounded mega bitchy the way I responded to him. Like I'm some princess on the hill and my brothers will slaughter any hick from another tribe that tries it on with me. Except I don’t have brothers or even a crew that have my back.

  No one will spare spare the time to run this errand for me. Not when Truan's about to shoot the big climactic scene. I guess he's pretty popular around the set.

  My snottiness was especially bad as he was only trying to help me. The same as he did the last time Knox wanted something. Also just like last time, no one wants to run a favor for Knox. They were adamant, shaking their heads no and finding any excuse to avoid going. I'm getting the feeling that he's not too popular, even with the lavish parties.

  Sometime during the night, according to the shot list, Knox will be called for close ups. He'll toss his slick lines at his gangster nemesis. I know them by heart as he had me run them with him at some point during this endless day, that feels like it's running into three. Knox never reads the script or learns his lines. He just does whatever movie the studio decide is best to build his career.

  He'll be pissed if he catches me hanging around. It's hard to tear myself away though, my thighs damp from watching Truan battle the four ninjas. I keep recalling the way he dragged me into his solid chest wall. His eyes blazing into me while he told me he was taking care of me whether I wanted him to or not. It was the hottest thing ever and I'm not sure who I trust less if we're alone together, him or me.

  There's no avoiding it. I desperately want to stick with the crew, pressed together as they watch Truan swing through the air between two skyscrapers held by one invisible wire, but I have to run Knox's stupid errand. Shit.

  I finally find a cab outside the roped off street section. It drops off two tourists who imagine they can just wander inside the movie set and look around. The driver looks at me in the mirror when I give him the address and he sits there not putting the car in drive.

  “Could we get moving,” I snip. “I have to get back to work.” Still he doesn't move. I wonder whether he speaks English.

  “I'll pay you double the meter.”

  That seems to clinch it and he shifts the stick into drive. It's about forty five minutes without drive time traffic and the neighborhood we arrive at seems run down. I have to remember I'm not in the charming older towns of Texas Hill Country.

  “You'll wait here for me?” I tell the driver when he pulls up at a derelict small warehouse on a street with no other offices. “I'll only be two minutes.”

  “You pay me now,” he barks.

  I hand over the equivalent of a week's pay and climb out. There's no bell and the moment I rap my knuckles painfully on the metal door, the cab takes off with a squeal of tires.

  Seriously?

  Shit. I'm stranded in this hellish abandoned war zone. There are actually real bullet holes in the door. Right when I decide to get out of there and am wondering how the hell I can find a cab or the likelihood that Uber will possibly come to find me, the door is flung back.

  A lean guy, not much taller than me but way meaner, stands in the opening taking me in.

  “Hallo. I'm, um here for a package,” I squeak.

  I'm rewarded with a massive shit-eating grin as his hand lands on the bulge in his jeans.

  “Hey guys, Miss Moneypenny's here for a package,” he shouts behind him.

  “Come on in. You can choose which package you want or maybe you decide to take them all.”

  He gives me such a filthy look that I want out of there right now. Every cell in my body has woken up to high alert and uncomfortable does not begin to describe the situation.

  My choices are to run, down a deserted street with no traffic in view. But he'd easily catch up to me. He looks wired and ripped and mean. And he isn’t wearing a pencil skirt and heels. Or I can grab what I came for and get out. Door number two seems like the only choice.

  At the back of the empty warehouse is a beaten wooden table with six wooden chairs around it. The only othe
r furniture is a sixty inch TV playing a porn video of two naked women on a beach. One on her knees in front of the other one, standing astride.

  Oh my god. I swivel my back to the screen and look at the ground to cover my embarrassment. That seems to amuse the men and they all avert their eyes from the girl on girl dogging to start stripping me naked with their ravenous stares. I literally want to fling my arms across my chest so they can't look at me with those lecherous gazes that tell me they aren’t going to make this easy.

  “Mr Templeton sent me to collect his, er, order,” I say, pulling myself up to full height. Focusing on acting the part of unafraid, no one comes to mind I can swap with so I bring up Trinity from The Matrix. If only I had her black catsuit and huge gun.

  “You bring the money?” A slimy voice from behind grunts in my ear along with pressure on my ass cheek.

  Ugh, I leap forward away from the solid bulge he was shoving against me. One of the men sitting in a chair with a boot resting on the table, grabs my arm and pulls me into his lap.

  My flesh swarms with bumps of fear that turn cold despite the dry heat in the room. A ringing sound assaults my ears from far away as he pulls me closer to his wiry chest. The other guys in the room press in closer, the hunger in them palpable.

  “You show me your titties, I might give you a discount, pretty lady,” the goon I'm sitting on says.

  I push my hands against his chest to get his vile face away from me. His hot breath stinks of stale beer and everything rancid. That only makes him laugh and yank me tighter to him. My heart is racing up and down the length of my chest at such a pace my lungs are burning for oxygen.

  “I'd like to lick your wet pussy,” he murmurs into my face and a wave of nausea tears through my stomach. The others pressing in growl encouragement like a pack of rabid dogs with foaming saliva dripping from their jaws.

  “And I'm going to,” he continues. His small rock hard finger touches my chin then slides down over my breast.

  “You know what else I'm going to do with it?” he husks.

  I know what he's going to do and my mind has slowed to a cotton crawl, refusing to come up with a way out of this.

  This pig is clearly the leader of this little gang of dirty slimeballs. His free hand cups the underside of my thigh, pinning me to his lap. The fingers dig cruelly into my flesh, filling with my butt cheek and gripping toward the hidden passage. Shudders power through me and I'm sure I'm going to vomit.

  I'm trying not to squirm away from him, certain somehow that my writhing will only turn him on more. I feel the excitement rising like steam vapor from his body. And I'm in no doubt what he intends to do, with my permission or without. The other men are closing in, either literally or in my mind as the large space becomes stifling and airless.

  I'm sure they aren't above all taking their turn after the boss has finished with me. My stomach retches and a sharp bitter taste fills the back of my throat. The hand claws around my ass cheek, tugging so my crevasse separates.

  My pussy entrance contracts violently against the sudden unveiling. Aggressive finger pads tug at the flesh from underneath, squeezing and compressing until they reach the edge of the crack. Holy shit, he's going to do this in front of all these creeps.

  I can't stop myself from cringing in recoil from his repulsive touch. Which only makes his grin more lecherous as he yanks me closer toward him.

  “Relax, Darling. You going to enjoy what Daddy going to do. You going to beg me for -”

  His head whips around as the man standing behind his shoulder like a hench, who'd been ravaging my tits with his eyes, flies ten feet across the room. The pig at the other shoulder hurls back the same way in a whirl of black and white. The three goons loafing around on chairs leap up and are tossed back with a fist and a drop kick, then another, coming from nowhere all at once. Another thug struggles up from his sprawl and is immediately lobbed back to the floor.

  “Get your filthy fucking hands off her.” The voice I recognize rages at the boss, his voice a sandstorm of fury.

  The grimy beast is still clinging to me, using my body now as some sort of shield.

  Truan looks ready to kill everyone as he pulls me from the leader's lap and smacks the boss upside the chin so his neck makes a sickening snap. My limbs go weak as adrenalin surges kick through me. Truan tucks me into his one-arm embrace. I'm pinned under the solid safety of his abs and pectoral muscles as he pulls me into his side with an iron grip circling my waist.

  Binding me to him, under his wing of security, shielding me from any harm, he fists the surprised face of the gang leader repeatedly. His arm pistons back rhythmically but with ferocious force.

  The guy's neck pops back like a springboard until Truan finishes pummeling his nose into a bloody pulp of flesh and crushed cartilage. His head snaps again and he collapses back across the chair, his neck weirdly floppy. Truan carries me under his arm so my toes are skimming across the ground and heads through the warehouse to the exit.

  He's scanning side to side constantly, like the agents you see on an FBI op. Except this is real life and through my fear, I'm glad he's got this because I'm certain my legs wouldn't do the job.

  We reach the door and it's lying wide open. The same gangster that opened it to me is lying sprawled on the ground. For a moment I think he's dead and I'm terrified for what will happen to Truan if he is. But the skinny guy shifts, then moans as his leg refuses to budge. It must be broken. Truan heads out into the street and sets me down carefully on the wide leather seat of a huge bike parked in the middle, like he had no time to pull up neatly.

  I'm shivering even though it's still seventy five degrees. Truan removes his tuxedo jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I'm so overwhelmed with alleviated terror and gratitude that he's here that I fall against his chest. He wraps two huge arms around my back, holding me close while I nuzzle into his safety wall of chest. His hand comes to cup the back of my head in that place you reassure a small child except his hand strokes me lightly, filled with a comfort I've never known.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?' he grits out.

  His heart is pounding almost as fast as mine and I also feel the rage pumping through his body beneath his skin. I nod agreement.

  “Are you sure? Can I take you to a hospital?”

  His stricken eyes rake across my face, searching for my feelings, anxiety covering his. I shake my head no vigorously. I just need to be out of here and somewhere safe. For the longest moment we are frozen, him holding me solicitous but gradually leaning his face toward mine. Me seated and caged by him, willing him to lean in further. When a quiver of desire shakes me, the spell is broken. His gripping concern returns to ensuring my safety.

  “Can you hold on to me while I drive the bike?” he asks, rubbing my shivering hands with his huge palm. Getting back to caring for me, not thinking of his own needs.

  I don't have the strength to pull him to me so I nod vigorously. Oh yeah, even with shaking limbs I'm going to cling to him like he's the last lifebelt on the Titanic.

  “Let's get you home then.”

  He gently helps me straddle the bike which is awkward in the tight skirt. He slides it up my thighs and despite what I've just endured, goosebumps of desire rise beneath the fabric.

  “I didn't think this through all the way,” he says, making me laugh a little, despite the trembling. “I wanted to get here fast and didn't consider the return trip.”

  “How did you know?” I whimper.

  His taut muscles, are still flexed and hard from taking down at least six gang members beneath the crisp and perfect white dress shirt. He's the very epitome of leading man and I can't believe he's here.

  For me.

  “I know Knox, Sweetheart. I've been doing these pick ups for him for years. The fucker doesn't want to get caught again so he tries to dump the crime on anyone else.”

  “Anyone stupid enough,” I say and a tear drops off my chin.

  Truan touches his fingertip to another a
nd lifts it off my cheek.

  “No, Sweetheart. Everyone's been had once by Knox.”

  So that's why the runners and drivers all determinedly refused to help out.

  “How does he get away with it?”

  “He's the devilish handsome movie star.”

  I'm about to say that right now there's no one more devilishly handsome and movie star-ish than the man standing between my legs, holding me in his arm as he tenderly plucks tears from my face.

  But he gently presses his dome down on my head and tightens the buckle under my chin. Leaving me trapped inside with my longing. He slides across the saddle to settle between my legs. With only my underwear between my pussy mouth and his curved iron ass cheeks, my clit aches with constant pulses of demand.

  His solid deltoid muscles graze my nipples igniting a spark in my chest. I gasp with the pure hungry lust kickstarted by the brush of his back against my front and press my body further into his rock wall of ridged muscle as I wrap my arms around his iron belt waist.

  ChapterEIGHTEEN

  Truan is an amazing rider. He moves confidently through traffic, sliding ahead of the midnight jam into opportune spaces, without being the kind of asshole that enrages car drivers. His body is solid steel in my arms and from the corner of my eye, where I rest my chin on his shoulder, I see his jaw is flexing hard.

  The anger is still fueling him. I did that. I should have done as he told me and waited for him to accompany me. My need to assert myself over him put both of us into danger.

  My body is pulsing, ignited by his brief touch and I'm furious. I know he's just rescued me from a hell I don’t want to imagine but why the fuck is my body acting all needy. Suddenly all I want is Truan's tongue licking and dancing in my mouth. Because then his body would have to be covering mine and I'd have to be locked under his arms again.

  Him carrying me out of the warehouse back there was the most delicious thing since we left the Egyptian pyramid. Which now I think of it was only this afternoon but seems like last month.