“Nice place. Cool neighborhood, too.”
“Yeah, I love it here.”
“Show me your bedroom.”
Some women might be put off by that blunt request, but I love it. I like men who know what they want and aren’t afraid to ask for it. I lead him through the house, which I finally cleaned this morning, and take him into my bedroom.
“This is it, where all the action happens,” I say facetiously. The only action that’s taken place in that bed in a long time involved batteries.
Link grabs me softly by the arms and pulls me into him. I feel the hardness of his chest against me as he tilts my chin up so that I’m facing him.
“I’m glad you didn’t have plans tonight. We’re gonna have some fun.”
He puts his lips to mine and kisses me. Within seconds I’m as into that kiss as I could possibly be, my arms around his strong neck and my tits pushing against him. Our kisses are deliciously sexy, like we’re locked in competition to see which one of us can best use our tongue to get the other more sexually excited. He may be winning this round, because all the preparation I’ve been doing for the last two hours has had me anticipating this exact moment. I adore that feeling of the initial kiss that you know is going to lead to intense, prolonged sex.
Link’s lips pull away and I’m left looking up into his eyes.
“I want you to get naked for me, while I watch.”
I’m so fucking excited by that kiss, and his bass voice so hypnotically sexy, that I have half a mind to do just that. I could easily perform a slow strip for him, and in just a few minutes we’d both be naked.
“No,” I say, hugging his granite-like body and pressing my tits harder against him. “You’re going to take me for a drink, first. Two or three drinks, if that’s what I want.”
“We’ll go for drinks later, when we need a break.”
I hold my ground, looking up at him with as much resolve as I can.
“Look, we’re going to have as much sex as you can stand tonight,” I tell him in a low, sexy voice. “I’ve been thinking all afternoon how much I want to fuck your brains out. But first you’re going to be a gentleman and buy the lady a drink. Then you’ll meet no resistance in getting me out of these clothes.”
He seems surprised that I’m so direct. Or maybe it’s not surprise. It could be a look of approval, or admiration. He likes my fighting back, making him stick to our agreement.
I maintain the playful tone. “You know how this works, baby. I’m the one with the pussy, so I make the rules. And rule number one is that you take me to a bar now. After that, I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”
I take his hand and lead him out of the bedroom, grabbing my leather jacket with the other hand on the way to the door.
His Harley is waiting in my driveway, all sleek and shiny in the February moonlight, with two black helmets sitting on the seat.
“For real? Jimmy Kimmel?”
I’m nearly done with my first drink, a Jack and Coke, and Link’s beer glass sits empty. I’ve already decided I’m going to keep him here a while. The feeling of being about to have sex with someone you know is great in bed might be my favorite part of the entire ritual. I love the prologue as much as I love the act itself, maybe more. Not the foreplay, but the foreplay to the foreplay. I think I could live in this moment and be happy.
We’re seated at the bar at Firewater again, and the bartender, Jimmy, remembered my name when he greeted me. Link and I have been making small talk, and he’s just revealed that he’s going to be on national TV Monday night, about forty-eight hours from now.
“My agent friend, Mason, lined it up. He’s talking to someone else about a reality show for me.”
“Link, that’s so cool. All because of the Oscars, right?”
“Yeah, and that makes it feel cheap. Like I’m using that little girl’s moment of terror for my benefit.”
He’s serious. Almost any other male in this whole city would be jumping at the chance to cash in and get his fifteen minutes of fame. Link sounds like he’s ready to walk in the opposite direction.
“Are you nervous about being on TV?”
“A little. I am who I am, though. I’m not a guy to worry about how he comes off to others.”
That’s for sure.
“Well, I’ll watch it naked from my couch, so be sure to let that image pop into your mind while you’re being interviewed.”
I finish my drink and set the glass on the counter. Link looks at me expectantly, like he’s hoping that one drink satisfied my requirements for sex. I smirk and shake my head, then get Jimmy’s attention and tell him we need two more.
We continue to talk, and he mentions that he’s got three guys who form his close circle of friends, and that they’ve named themselves the Hollywood Bad Boys Club.
“And what’s the purpose of this club?” I ask.
His answer is blunt. “Pussy.”
Really? “So, this club is all about vagina?” I’m trying not to laugh as I say it.
“Pretty much. We started it because we were constantly bragging to each other about all the chicks we banged.”
Lovely way to put it. It sounds moronic, but I can totally see guys doing that. It’s just such a boy thing to do. He tells me that one of the guys, Drake, left a few days ago to shoot a movie in Canada, and I assume he’s crew. Damn near every man in this town is either a wannabe actor or a crew member—the guys who do all the technical stuff behind the scenes on a movie shoot and get almost no recognition.
Then he says he thinks this friend is a little depressed because he thought he was going to win his first Oscar last weekend and didn’t.
“Was he even nominated?” I ask, unsure if Link knows how the process works.
“Yeah, for Texas Flood. Didn’t get the trophy, though.”
I’m still assuming the nomination is for a technical category, like sound editing or set production. Then I remember that I’ve seen Texas Flood, and when the name suddenly pops into my head it actually shocks me.
“Wait… Drake Manning?”
I’m expecting Link to laugh and tell me it’s somebody else. Only he doesn’t do that.
“Yeah. His girlfriend went with him to Vancouver to cheer him up.”
I’m stunned.
“You’re shitting me. One of your best friends is Drake Manning? For real?” Manning is only one of the biggest movie stars in the world.
Link nods as if it’s no big deal.
“Who the hell are the other two guys?” I ask.
“Mason, the guy I told you about who’s also my agent, and Marcus Jennings.”
“Marcus Jennings, too?” I don’t know much about basketball, but everyone in town knows who Marcus Jennings is. He’s the Lakers’ most popular player.
“Yep. And then there’s me.”
I don’t ask the question that pops into my mind: How the hell did you get into that club?
“How do you know Drake Manning?” I’m guessing Link worked security for him at some point.
“Rescued him and Mason in a college bar fight back in the day. They were getting their asses kicked. We’ve been friends ever since.”
Now I’m suddenly very intrigued by this hulk of a man, and I’m beginning to suspect there’s more to him than meets the eye. Still waters run deep and all. I want to know more, so I take a calculated risk.
I put my hand on this thigh and say, “I want to know about your parents, Link.” If he gets tweaked by my asking, I’ll ease him back down by being extra sweet. He still wants to get in my pants, after all.
He looks at me with those intense green eyes, as if probing to see whether I’m someone he can trust with such knowledge.
“Not much to tell,” he says. Then he turns toward the bar and takes a drink of beer.
I lean in a little, my hand sliding up on his thigh. Not enough to put it near his junk, though—that would be a tacky way of trying to extract the details I’m curious about.
“
It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about them,” I say. “I just want to know more about you, that’s all.”
There’s a slight pause, then I hear these words slip from my lips: “I really like you, Link.”
What the actual fuck did I just say? I’d never even thought those words, and now I’m giving them voice? If anything is going to make this guy run, it’s that. I tense up, expecting things to slowly turn strange. It’s happened to me before when I told a guy how much I liked him. More than once, actually.
Instead, Link turns back to me, gives me another probing with those eyes, then slightly nods.
“My mother was from Canada, and my father was from Mexico. Dad took off when I was three and was never heard from again. I don’t remember anything about him at all.”
“Your mom raised you?”
He scoffs. “If you could call it that. Let’s just say she wasn’t a typical mom. It was rough. Then…”
I wait him out. He sits silently for a moment before continuing.
“Then she died, when I was in fourth grade. I went into foster care and stayed there until I turned eighteen.”
What a horrible situation. My own fairly normal upbringing seems joyous by contrast.
“That must have been terrible for a little boy.”
Link laughs softly. “On the contrary. Foster care was a huge relief, even though I was with a different family every year, sometimes two families. It wasn’t easy, but it was infinitely better.”
I want to know more, to find out why things were so terrible with his mother. Before I can prod, he ends the conversation.
“So, that’s my wonderful childhood. Now let’s talk about something else.”
I set down my now-empty glass and grab him behind the neck, pulling him to me as I meet him halfway and lock him up in a scorching hot kiss that makes the previous one look saintly in comparison. I’ve had orgasms that weren’t as good as this kiss.
When I finally release him, he looks a little amused.
“Does that mean you’re ready to go now?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say. “Jimmy, another round over here, please.”
Link frowns.
“Last one, I promise. Then you can take me home and do whatever you want to my naked body.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “I’m going to take you up on that offer.”
I give him a filthy look.
“I certainly hope so.”
As we drink that third drink, my mind keeps flashing back to that kiss. Or maybe it’s my body that won’t let go. Either way, when I take my last sip and set the empty glass on the counter, I’m as horny as I can ever remember being. I’m probably one drink away from fucking him right here in the bar.
“Now?” Link asks with a half-smile.
“Now.” I feel dirty, in a good way. I’ve got a buzz and I’m ready to show Link that I’m not a typical girl.
He quickly settles up with Jimmy, then wraps his arm around my shoulder as we walk to the back door holding our helmets. The bike is parked in the small lot behind the bar. When the door closes behind us, the only sounds are muffled music from inside and the drone of traffic noise from Sunset Boulevard. It’s dark. There are only spaces for four cars, and Link’s bike is taking up one of them next to an alley.
When we reach the bike and he pulls out his key, I turn into him and we kiss again, another long, smoldering kiss. Link puts his arms around me and holds me against him. It’s hard to imagine a safer feeling than being in the arms of a man this big and strong, especially if he’s also someone you trust.
Maybe as a result of that feeling of safety, my dirty brain suddenly feeds me an idea, and I’m too buzzed to say no.
“I have a hypothetical question for you,” I say, looking up at him.
“Shoot.”
“After you have an orgasm, how long does it usually take before you can get it up again?”
He scoffs. “Don’t worry, that won’t be an issue.”
“Yeah, but how long does it take, on average?”
“It’s hard to say—no pun intended. I’d guess ten or fifteen minutes. If I’m excited enough, there’s almost no downtime at all.”
That’s all I need to know.
I set my helmet on the bike seat and drop to my knees on the pavement, already undoing his belt on my way down. I wait for Link to protest about the location being wrong or that we should wait until we’re in his house, or maybe just tell me that I’m crazy. He does none of these, but instead puts his helmet on the handlebars.
By the time I reach through the opening in his underwear and pull out his limp cock, his hands are in my hair, softly running through my black waves. My mouth is on him immediately, and my intent is to get him off as quickly as possible so we don’t get caught. We’d be plainly visible to anyone leaving the club through the back or driving down the alley.
There’s no subtlety whatsoever in this blowjob I’m giving. My left hand is on his thigh for balance while my right is wrapped around the base of his cock, holding him steady as my mouth goes up and down. I feel him grow in my mouth, and it doesn’t take long before he’s completely erect and his hands are holding my head a little tighter. He moves my hair aside with one hand so he can watch, and I feel so damn sexy, so badass. I suck him hungrily, wanting to get him off right here outside in the parking lot, anxious to taste his warm cum.
“There’s a car coming,” he says suddenly, and out of the corner of my eye I see lights in the alleyway.
I don’t want to stop, but there’s a chance it might be a cop and I don’t want to go to jail for blowing someone in public. Just as I pull my mouth off his rock hard, slippery cock, I remember the cop the other morning who recognized Link and let him go with a mild warning. My mouth goes right back over him and I suck him as if my life depended on getting him to orgasm. The lights get brighter and I hear the sound of tires as the car comes slowly down the alley. Link’s pants are momentarily illuminated and I see the light shining on my saliva on his shaft, but I’m so hyper-focused on sucking this cock that I don’t give a shit. I feel one of Link’s hands leave my head and the tire noise ceases. I don’t stop, comfortable that Link is in control of everything except my mouth on his hard-on. Then the car continues on, the tire noise slowly receding.
His hand finds my head again and both of them pull me hard against him, over him. I don’t mind—in fact, I like being handled roughly like this. His cock hits the back of my throat and I hear him moan. Then he eases up and I begin working my hand on his shaft as I suck. That does the trick and he begins to swell.
“I’m gonna come,” he warns. I appreciate him letting me know, but I ignore him because that’s exactly what I want him to do.
A second later his cock throbs and I feel him erupt. I double my efforts as he empties himself, filling my mouth with his warm cum. I’ve never actually seen Link come, but it’s all I can do to keep it all in as he slowly comes to a stop. His breathing is heavy and his hands reduce their pressure as he begins stroking me softly again. I slow down with him, but continue sucking until I’m sure I’ve got everything he has to give me. Then I slowly withdraw my mouth, savoring his taste before I swallow.
As he recovers, I stand and gently tuck his cock back into his underwear, then zip and snap his pants. My task done, I give him a devilish grin, proud that my blowjob was good enough to make him come quickly.
“That wasn’t a cop, was it?” I ask.
Link smiles. “No, just four guys cruising down an alley on a Saturday night for some reason.”
Four guys? “Did they see us?”
“Oh, yeah, they saw us, all right. It would have been impossible for them to miss.”
“I hope they enjoyed the show,” I say.
“They seemed to. They stopped for a second and I waved. The driver gave me a thumbs up, then they drove off.”
I press my hand against the softening lump in his pants.
“How far is your house, Link?” I ask impatientl
y.
“Ten minutes away,” he says.
I squeeze him gently. “You’d better have recovered by the time we get there.”
“Like I said, that won’t be a problem. Not with you.”
I smile at the compliment and grab my helmet.
Five minutes later, we turn north on Laurel Canyon. The night air is cold and I press my body against Link’s back, taking advantage of his warmth. My right hand snakes down, over his thigh to his crotch, and rub him gently as we follow the winding road upwards. By the time we reach the famous Mulholland Drive, I’m massaging a very hard cock.
Good boy. I knew you could do it.
Link’s house is on a small side street off Mulholland to the east of Laurel Canyon. There’s a gated entrance, and as we pass through I realize I don’t know anything about how much money he makes. I know he seems to have some very exclusive clients, and if the house we pull up to is any indication, he’s done very well for himself.
We take one step through the front door and Link sets his helmet on the marble floor, then takes mine and does the same with it.
“Give me your jacket,” he says gruffly. As I remove it, I see the bulge in his pants where the erection I encouraged waits, and my stomach tenses in anticipation.
He slips his leather jacket off and lets it fall to the floor, and when I hand him mind, he simply drops it. Then he scoops me up in those massive arms and carries me through his living room, up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, and into his bedroom, where he finally sets me down. He’s not even winded and still has a hard-on.
“I want to watch you undress,” Link says, and I love the urgency in his voice.
I slip off my heels, then my pants. I feel sexy, with my shirttail covering my panties. His eyes never leave my body as I begin undoing buttons. I let my shirt fall off my arms onto the carpet behind me, and I’m sad I have to remove this gorgeous lingerie. I know the sheer fabric lets him almost see my nipples and my pussy, but not quite, as they remain partially hidden behind the black lace decoration.
“Stop there,” he commands. “Jesus, you look amazing in that.”
I feel deliciously sexy as Link removes his boots and his socks. Then I watch him strip just a few feet in front of me until he’s naked, just a mass of muscle and ink. His new tattoo only catches my interest momentarily, until I’m distracted by a fat hard-on angling upward.
Hollywood Bad Boys Club, Book 4: Link Page 11