“I’m good. Thanks, man.” Only now I’m bent over with my hands on my knees like I got sucker-punched in the gut.
—it will get worse over time without surgery—
“You sure? You don’t look too good.”
“I’m okay. Really. Thanks.”
“Maybe you should sit down for a minute. Do you need some water or something?”
“Thanks, man” I wince, my voice strained. “I’ll be fine. Gettin over a bad cold,” I lie. “I was sick for two weeks.”
He nods, “Some bad viruses going around. Take it easy.” He wheels his cart across the lobby.
I finally manage to stand up straight. I wipe my forehead and it’s covered in clammy sweat. I gotta get my shit together before Electra sees me like this.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
ELECTRA
“Who was that on the phone?” I ask. Why do I feel like I’m prying?
“Nobody,” Connor sighs, his eyes dancing around evasively.
“One of your girlfriends?”
He shakes his head, “It was my agent. She can be a ballbuster. I’m supposed to answer the phone whenever she calls in case it’s some big deal bullshit.”
“Oh. I know what you mean. My editor at Trending is the same way. He’s a pain in my ass most of the time.”
“Right?” Connor agrees, smiling. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t kill ‘em.”
“Something like that,” I giggle.
“Ready for that drink?”
“About that. I’m kind of tired. Can I take a raincheck?”
“You only live once, Warmoth.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? My feet are pretty sore from walking around all day in these pumps. I’ll feel a lot better after a good night’s rest.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He grins.
His grin is difficult to resist. I sigh, considering. “Can we just have a drink at the main bar here in the hotel?”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
The entire bar area is filled with women in pink Rom Com Con attendee T-shirts.
“It’s him!” Some random women squeals.
And like that, dozens of faces turn to gawk at Connor and I. They all stare, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“It’s Connor Hughes!!” The women start filtering out of the bar, creeping toward us uncertainly.
“That’s why,” he grimaces, “Let’s get out of here.” He drags me to the stairs and we exit through the parking garage on foot.
My feet are killing me by the time we get to the bottom of the resort’s long driveway. “How far is it to Sunset?”
“Do you want me to call an Uber car?”
“I can make it.” I may have blisters by the time we get there, but I’ll suck it up.
“Fuck that. I’ll call one.”
“How chivalrous of you.” I mean it.
Five minutes later, a guy driving a Nissan sedan picks us up and drives us to the Sunset Strip. Keenly aware of my lack of panties, I keep my knees squeezed together the entire time. When we arrive, I ask Connor, “Do you need any money?”
“I got it on my credit card. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.”
He climbs out and offers his left hand.
“Such a gentleman,” I smile, taking his hand. I suddenly worry he’ll see up my skirt. Then I realize maybe I want him to look. I slide my ass across the seat, feeling the contours of the cushions rubbing against my swollen desire. When my pumps touch the sidewalk, I let my legs open. With my skirt on, they don’t open very wide, but I feel like a slut letting it all hang out like this. It’s not like there’s a bunch of photo spot lights shining on me, but the soft glow of neon from all the lights on Sunset is more than enough for Connor to catch a glimpse.
He smirks and stares between my legs. “Do you want me to push you back in that car and roll your skirt up so I can fuck you on the back seat?”
If it wasn’t for the fact that the driver totally smells like Corn Nuts and is watching all this, I would instantly say yes. I nod toward the driver, “We can’t…”
“Fine. I’ll push you up against the nearest wall and fuck you like the secret slut that you are.”
“I’m not a slut,” I protest.
“But you wanna be. Every woman does whether they admit it to themselves or not.”
“You’re such a manwhore, Connor.”
He helps me climb out of the car. “And proud of it. Let’s get inside a club or I really am gonna fuck you.”
I linger for just a second, considering his threat. Why does all this sound so damn yummy?
On the sidewalk, I purposefully hang back for a few seconds so I can steal a glance at Connor’s ass while he walks. It looks incredible in his tight black jeans. I picture it thrusting in and out of me. Oh, gawd…
He stops up ahead and turns. “Are you coming?”
“Uhhhh… yeah! Coming!” Why does his butt have to be so perfect?
At a stop light, we wait before crossing the nearly gridlocked Sunset Boulevard. The Strip is party central pretty much around the clock. When the light changes, a random guy in a blazer crosses toward us. An unlit cigarette dangles from his lips as he searches his pockets. He nods at Connor, “Yo, man. You gotta light?”
“Sorry, bro,” Connor says, “I quit.”
The guy chuckles, “You and me both. I’ve already quit thirteen times.”
“Fourteenth’s the charm,” Connor grins as we pass the man.
“You quit?” I marvel. “You always had a cigarette in your mouth. It was your trademark.”
Connor smirks, “When I started getting winded after running for two minutes, I decided it was time to ditch the cancer sticks. Smoking and cross training aren’t a good fit.”
“Makes sense. It’s better for your health anyway.”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t really care,” I grin sarcastically. “I just don’t like the idea of people getting cancer when they could avoid it. My concern is more of a general one. It applies to everybody. Even big jerks like you,” I giggle.
“The only thing big about me is my—”
“Don’t say it!”
“I was going to say that the only thing big about me is my heart.” He bats his eyelashes comically.
I break into laughter. “Ha! That is so not true.”
“What do you know, War Mouth? You don’t know what I’ve been up to for the past seven years.” He sounds amused, not angry. “Maybe I rescue puppies and kittens and volunteer at an old folks home.”
“Do you?”
He shrugs.
“The only thing you volunteer is your services for sluts.”
“Harsh, Warmoth. Way too harsh.”
“It’s true.”
“If it is, that makes you a slut too.”
“Let’s go.” I pull him along by the wrist toward the closest club. “How’s this?”
He looks up at the marquee. “The Cobra Lounge? They usually have bands.”
“They have drinks too, don’t they?”
“Let’s check it out.”
The line of hipsters is a mile long. “We’ll never get in. My hair’s a mess and my outfit is trashed. Maybe we can find a quiet bar?”
He grins. “We don’t need to wait. Look at us. You’re a fuckin fox.”
I blush.
He smirks, “You’re almost as good lookin as me.”
I scowl. “Cocky as ever, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” He grabs my hand and pulls me past the crowd of bored people in line. Nearly all the women stop whatever they are saying as we pass and drool at Connor.
I have to admit, it is slightly thrilling seeing the glaring jealousy on the faces of all these beautiful women.
When we get to the bouncers, I expect them to tell us to wait in line with the rest of the peasants. The taller bouncer with a shaved head stares at my chest. I fold my arms across my knotted blouse. Without my bra
or a sweater or panties, I’m all nipples. What am I doing? Feeling suddenly bold, I unfold my arms. Let him look.
The tall bouncer checks our ID’s while the other bouncer, who looks like a burly old ex-Marine, grins at me, his eyes traveling all over my body.
“Gettin a good look?” Connor grunts. He’s jealous, which amuses me.
“You want in the club, dawg?” the tall bouncer challenges him, handing back our ID’s.
“They can look all they want.” I grin. Leaning forward with my hands on my thighs, I arch my back like a pinup girl so both bouncers can look down my top. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I’m never this big a flirt. I blame Connor. He stole my underwear and got me all worked up without doing anything about it, so he’ll have to deal with it.
Both bouncers stare at my boobs for a while, smiling approval.
Connor’s eyes flash with hot murder.
“Is something bothering you?” I tease.
Connor forces a strained smile, “No, nothing’s wrong.” He mumbles in my ear with obvious amusement, “But I’m the guy with your panties and bra in my pocket.”
“So?”
He shrugs confidently, “If you think either of them has a cock half as big as mine, or can drive you half as fuckin wild as I already have, be my guest. Go home with one of them. Shit, take them both home. But you and I both know they won’t measure up and you’ll go home lonely and disappointed.”
He’s calling my bluff and he knows it. I glance at the two burly bouncers. They’re both manly enough, but neither is nearly as gorgeous as Connor. “You’re a cocky sonuvabitch.”
He presses up against my ass and I feel his throbbing cock. “Say the word and I’ll fuck you right here.”
I grind my ass into his jeans.
“Save it for the dance floor,” the older bouncer chuckles, waving us past.
Inside, the DJ spins a summery electro house mix I don’t recognize. Imagine the standard BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz. The crowd on the dance floor bounces to the jagged rhythm.
“Let’s get some drinks,” Connor hollers over the loud music.
“Okay,” I holler back.
—BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz—
He reaches out for my hand with his right.
Does he want to hold it? Then I notice his palm looks weird. “Why is your hand black?” I shout.
He shows me the palm. “This?”
“It looks terrible.”
He leans toward my ear, “Some fungus I picked up. Highly contagious.” He reaches up to touch my face.
Horrified, I jump back and nearly trip over two random dancers. “Connor! Don’t!”
He breaks into an easy smile. “Relax. It’s permanent ink. I broke a pen signing autographs. It won’t come off.”
I wince, “Are you sure?”
“Gimme your hand.”
I recoil. “No!”
“Gimme.”
I relent. “Here.”
He strokes the back of my hand with his warm palm.
My skin tingles and my heart flutters and sizzles travel up my arm and down my spine.
“See? It doesn’t come off.”
I look down at my hand as he continues to rub it. None of the ink comes off.
“See?”
“Yuh—yeah.”
He keeps rubbing my hand, circling his thumb around my palm.
It does amazing things to me that I can’t explain.
—BOOM-BOOM-BOOM cizz-cizz-cizz—
As the thumping music and Connor’s erotic hand massage starts to carry me away, I am suddenly reminded of my lack of panties and bra. Am I going to drip on the floor? At this rate, it’s bound to happen. Damn, I’m turned on.
He releases me. “Let’s get some drinks.”
I hold my hand to my chest and rub it thoughtfully. I can’t respond to Connor because that was somehow the most romantic thing he’s ever done. Well, after doing my laundry, or should I say having it done for me. Either way, I feel the echo of his thumb still circling, like he’s still doing it. But he’s not. What the hell did he just do?
—cizz-BOOM cizz-BOOM cizz-BOOM—
He drags me to the neon blue bar and works his magic on one of the cute female bartenders. Despite the crowd, she takes his order right away. A minute later, she hands him two shots and two mixed drinks. He offers me a shot.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Drink it,” he orders.
“How do I know it doesn’t have roofies in it?”
“Quit kidding yourself,” he smirks, “You already wanna fuck me. Pound that shit and let’s dance.” He swallows his shot then gulps down the mixed drink in three seconds.
I sip the shot. It tastes like Tequila. The mixed drink looks like a Cosmo.
“This isn’t a fuckin taste test! Pound that shit!”
“Okay, okay, Frat Boy!” I swallow the shot easily but it burns my throat. My eyes bulge and I make a flame-thrower face. Connor laughs. Then I tip my head back and drink the Cosmo as fast as I can. I nearly choke, but manage to get it all down without spilling it all over myself.
He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the packed dance floor.
—BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz—
Connor is instantly into the dancing. He breaks out the slithery pelvic gyrations he showed earlier during the convention reveal. Somehow, he manages to include me in his dancing. He snakes around me in fluid movements. I try not to look dorky. I’ve never been a good dancer. Connor is a master.
I’m intimately aware of the fact that my skirt keeps riding up. It’s not meant for dancing. I keep yanking it down by the hem. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the shot and Cosmo to take effect on my empty stomach.
A few minutes later I’m bouncing to the beat with my hands over my head.
Connor worships me, sliding his body all over mine.
Everybody is watching us. Or should I say, watching Connor. I feel like a statue. So I shake my ass. Connor is instantly behind me. I circle my butt against his jeans as best I can.
—BOOM-BOOM-BOOM cizz-cizz-cizz—
He leans into my ear, “Everybody is watching you, Lex. All the guys in here want this ass.” He punctuates his words by grinding his crotch against my cheeks. “They all want to fuck you, Lex. But they can’t. I won’t let them because this is mine.” As the alcohol takes effect, the sexual energy pouring off everyone in the club feeds into my desire. A hard hand roams up my stomach. I’m only vaguely aware it’s Connor’s hand. In the moment, I almost don’t care whose hand it is. He squeezes my breast through my knotted blouse. My nipples ache with desire, throbbing to the dance beat.
—BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz BOOM-cizz—
I close my eyes and tip my head back, leaning it against Connor’s muscled shoulder. Heat blooms against the top of my head.
Connor’s face is buried in my hair. “You smell fuckin incredible, Lex.”
I’m pretty tall, but Connor is way taller than I am. Having a big hot guy wrap himself around you like this is heaven. I grin to myself, my eyes closed, shaking my ass as he massages my other breast, boldly twisting the nipple. I sit my ass onto his hips, leaning onto his hardness for support. The front of my skirt suddenly tightens against my thighs and lifts. A hot hand cups my folds.
“You’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you?”
I nod my head against his shoulder.
“You want me to fuck you right here, don’t you?”
I moan a reply.
He chuckles lustily against my ear.
His fingers start to circle against my wetness. It feels incredible. Vaguely aware that people might be able to see up my skirt, I open my eyes a slit. The people surrounding us swim in a deep ocean of blue light. I’m so turned on, everybody seems to be moving in slow motion. I’m completely enveloped by Connor, floating in his hard heat and sexual energy. Slowly I become aware that people are staring. The men. The women. Everybody. They’re captivated by what Connor and I are doing. I feel l
ike a porn star. When he starts to massage my clit, I realize I don’t fucking care who’s watching. I melt all over his hand.
—BOOM-cizz—
His finger slides inside me.
—BOOM-cizz—
I moan loud, “Fuck me, Connor…”
—BOOM-cizz—
Nobody can hear me over the loud music.
Nobody except Connor. He growls into my ear and he pushes his finger deeper. I sink into his hand, wanting more. Some part of his hand is rubbing my clit just right. It sings with ecstasy. The first spasm of orgasm starts to build and my muscles clench around his deep finger.
And then his hand is gone.
Damn him! He did it again! I shout, “Connor—”
His tongue fills my mouth. We’re chest to chest. He squeezes my ass hard. I straddle his thigh, pushing my skirt up, grinding my core against his denim covered leg. If it wasn’t for Connor’s hands on my ass keeping my skirt from riding any higher, it would be around my waist.
Our tongues go to war as we kiss on the dance floor.
This is easily the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done.
But god damn it, I’m going to come if it kills me. Because not coming will kill me. I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life. I continue to grind against Connor’s muscled leg. I have no doubt I’m leaving a wet streak on his jeans. I don’t care. The muscles inside me clench in a slow rhythm. Each time they squeeze it feels exquisitely good. But it’s like I can’t come unless there’s a cock inside me. I try to pretend his tongue in my mouth is his cock invading my tunnel, but it doesn’t work.
This is beyond frustrating.
Still kissing, I grab his belt buckle and start to undo it.
He pushes my arms behind my back and pins them there. He stares at me with his deep blue eyes. “You’re not gonna come until I say you can come.”
“I need to come, Connor!”
He smirks and withdraws his thigh from between my leg, moving it with the music so I can’t straddle it anymore. “You’re not ready yet.”
“God damn it, Connor! You fuck me right now or I’m going to kill you!!”
He laughs, his lush mouth pulling over his perfect teeth. He’s the most incredibly handsome man I’ve ever seen, bar none. And he’s just as infuriating as he’s always been. I smack the bottom of my fist against the granite of his chest.
Cover Model Page 11