“Whatever the case may be, any press is good press,” Miranda says, putting her tablet away. “Just relax.”
“Relax, she says,” I mutter sullenly, watching as the limo hangs a right and a hotel that actually looks like it belongs in a ritzy section of Vegas comes into view down the street. Grand Waterways Hotel. “Relax for what?”
“Because you need to be calm, cool, and collected for your upcoming interviews,” Miranda says as the limo starts to slow down. “You can’t start getting annoyed and chewing out the reporters on camera just because they ask you about your anacon . . . umm, romance life.”
“The hell I can’t,” I growl. “My personal life is no one’s business.”
“These are different times, Gavin,” Miranda says softly. “The days where people only want to hear about your talent are over. They want to hear about what you’re wearing, who you’re dating, who you’re thinking about sleeping with. And considering that there’s a . . .” her words trail off, but I catch her meaning.
The video. It always comes back to that goddamn video.
“It’s bullshit.”
Miranda shrugs. “It’s just what it is.”
I sigh, leaning back and unbuttoning the blazer. “The next time a reporter asks me about my sex life or my dick, I’m walking off. I don’t care if it’s on the red carpet of the fucking Oscars. It’ll be better than giving them another sound bite. At least during football season, they ask about the game first sometimes.”
“You’d better not,” Miranda warns.
I clench my jaw, wanting to reprimand her for scolding me like a child, but I resist the urge.
“Tell me again why they picked this place?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Because it’s a little podunk city,” Miranda says. “Remember, you’re supposed to be this badass who plays around with the main heroine for some of the movie. You two have known each other since you were kids, and they’ve got to get some background scenes.”
“Oh yeah. The big dying scene,” I say with a grunt, remembering the script. At least my character goes out with a bang—literally. A hit squad rattling my car with machinegun fire before they blow it up with a rocket? Guess I’m tough to kill. Too bad I won’t do much for it. It’s all stuntmen. “When are they filming that?”
“Umm, I’m not exactly sure,” Miranda says. “But you’ll have time to practice and get your lines down at least.”
I grunt noncommittally and then ask, “How detailed are these love scenes supposed to be?” I know I’m supposed to have at least one bedroom scene with the leading lady of the movie, Leslie Hart.
“It’ll be shot in darkness with blue light, according to what I saw from the studio,” Miranda says. “Don’t worry, the Anaconda isn’t going to be making his big screen debut. Who knows? They might use body doubles for a lot of it.”
I shake my head in disgust as we come up on the hotel. “Fuck,” I mutter, seeing the paparazzi parked outside, irritation causing me to clench my jaw. “Figures. I can’t go anywhere without these vultures showing up.”
“Pull around the side!” I yell to the limo driver, who’s kept his mouth shut the whole time we’ve been bickering. The guy’s a pro. I’d have jumped out several stop lights ago if I had to sit there and listen to us.
He just nods and waves, pulling around the corner and driving a bit farther before pulling over. I grab a hooded coat, pull it on, and throw the hood over my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miranda,” I tell her, flashing a wink.
I slam the limo door and slap the roof before Miranda can reply, and I walk away, ignoring the people on the sidewalk. I’m through a side entrance within two minutes, easily evading the vultures with cameras waiting at the entrance.
I head up to the front desk, keeping my sunglasses and hat on. Thankfully, the manager’s on duty, and while he trips over his tongue a few times, probably still worried about the chocolates, I slip off to the elevators and up to the top floor. Room 603.
I unlock the door and head inside, yanking my coat off before throwing it at the sofa. I don’t even pause to take in the opulence of the room or the breathtaking view of the skyline through the floor to ceiling windows. It’s nice and all, but I’ve stayed in plenty of five-star penthouse suites and I’m used to luxury.
There are several bags waiting for me on the floor. Miranda must have sent them ahead.
I pick up one of them to see what’s so important inside, and when I do, I see a dress and some stilettos. Someone sent up the wrong bag.
Annoyed, I sling the bag at the table and into one of the chairs, not caring when the chair falls over onto the floor.
I check one of the other bags. This one has my clothes. I set an outfit out on the bed, dark slacks and a white dress shirt. I’m supposed to be having dinner in a few hours with Miranda and a big movie exec to go over a few things before shooting. And I can’t go to the meeting if I smell like cigarettes and musk.
After I’ve made sure I’ve picked my most dapper attire, I walk into the bathroom, slide out of my clothes, and enter the shower stall for a quick rinse. As the cool water hits me, my mind wanders to the possibility of picking up some ass tonight. I could see myself easily picking up some chick from the event I’m heading to. Hell, maybe even someone from the hotel lobby. But once again, I’m unable to get excited at the prospect of sharing my bed.
I shake my head as water runs down my forehead and into my eyes. What the fuck is wrong with me? There was a time where I’d been happy to share my bed with one or even two. But the thought just doesn’t excite me anymore.
I guess I’m getting tired of sex that doesn’t mean a damn thing.
My mood sour, I finish rinsing off and step out of the stall. I’m in the middle of drying off when I realize I left my pants on the bed. I walk into the room while rubbing the towel against my head.
“Anaconda,” I swear I hear a sweet voice say as I’m about to pull the towel from my eyes.
Goddamn, I think, seeing the sight in front of me, then my inner voice groans. Oh, no. Not again.
The towel slips from my fingers as I see a woman dressed in a maid uniform, her eyes as wide as a doe’s as she gazes at me. Fuck. She’s beautiful. Rich brown hair frames big, brown, soulful eyes, a slightly upturned button nose, and ruby pink lips that are soft and plump. The sort of lips that I’d love to have wrapped around my cock.
My dick twitches as I look over the rest of her. Her uniform has a French maid vibe to it, showcasing her figure and legs that stretch on for days.
I’m used to seeing beautiful women, but there’s something about this girl that makes my blood heat in a way it hasn’t in a long time.
“Hi, I’m Gavin,” I say, stepping forward and then stopping. I feel stupid as fuck introducing myself while I’m butt naked. But it can’t be helped. The snake is already out of the bag. There’s no use covering him up now.
The girl doesn’t reply, her eyes as wide as saucers, her legs trembling. Jesus, she looks like she’ll need a respirator, her chest heaving as her eyes flit to my face, back between my legs, and then back to my face again.
Her mouth works for a moment as her eyes play ping pong, and I can’t help but grin at the effect I’m having on her. I don’t know why I’m enjoying this, but I am.
I boldly take a step forward, though I know I shouldn’t. She’s fucking petrified. “You all right?”
Her cheeks burning red, I hear her mumble, “I’m sorry,” before she turns and runs from the room without looking back.
For a moment, I’m tempted to go after her, but I don’t. After all, I am naked, and I don’t know where the fucking bathrobe is. But I’m pissed I didn’t get her name. She was gorgeous. And I could see the way she looked at me. I know that look.
And the image of her looking up at me with those eyes while I push into her body is going to be in my dreams until I make it a reality.
But she ran from me. I clench my jaw as I think about her plump, pouty lips and her
wide eyes as she took in my naked body. My cock twitches again as I remember the lust that flashed in her eyes.
I decide right then and there that I’m gonna find her. And when I do, I’ll have those sweet lips wrapped around my cock in no time.
If it’s the last thing I do.
Chapter 3
Brianna
“Girl, you’re not gonna believe this,” I hiss, dragging Mindy into the back of the coffee shop after fleeing Anaconda’s room. She was in the middle of cleaning a coffee machine when I practically ran up, but I can’t wait to speak with her. I have to tell what I just saw.
Hell, I can’t believe it still, and I saw him . . . I saw it from less than ten feet away. Even now, my heart pounds when I think about, my pussy clenching at thin air.
“Won’t believe what?” Mindy asks, her eyes burning with curiosity as she notices my breathlessness. I’m literally hyperventilating. “You walk in on an old couple 69ing or something?”
“Hell no!” I say, grimacing at the thought. Leave it to Mindy to come up with something like that at the drop of a dime.
“Then what was it?” she demands impatiently, glancing back to the front of the shop. “I’ve got coffee to make!”
“You know that penthouse, the one I said was supposed to be empty?” I ask. “Well—”
“Yeah, the one V-man busted your tush about,” Mindy says, nodding. “Why, was it occupado? Walked in on two guys doing the pile-driver?”
“Will you cut it out and let me finish a sentence!” I growl.
“Sorry,” Mindy mutters, even though I know she’s not.
I shake my head at her silliness, then give her a serious look. “What’s the biggest dick you’ve ever seen?”
Mindy pauses, staring at me before catching my meaning. “No way!” she blurts.
I nod. “Way.”
“How big?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“Big, big.” I shake my head, my blood heating as the image of what was hanging between those incredibly muscular thighs flashes before my eyes.
Mindy stares at me. “We talking ruler big or Louisville Slugger big?”
“I’m talking this guy could knock it out of Fenway big,” I joke, my cheeks burning.
Mindy whistles, impressed, and blushing a little herself. “And you got to see him naked?”
“The whole nine yards,” I say, still not able to believe what happened. Or twelve yards might be more accurate.
“And why aren’t you up there right now then?” Mindy asks, leaning in and playfully nudging me with her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be the first maid to have a little fun on the clock.”
“Come on, Mindy, you know I’m not like that!” I protest, trying my best to hide my desire. “I’m not going to just screw a guy ‘cause he looks good and is some sort of VIP prick.” I pause and shake my head in wonder, the image emblazoned on my mind. “Still, no wonder they wrote Anaconda on the room sheet.”
“No. Fucking. Way!” Mindy half squeals suddenly, causing me to jump. Grabbing my hand, she says, “You really met Anaconda Adams?”
“Who?” I ask, shaking my head. Mindy is practically shaking, she’s so excited. “Who’s Anaconda Adams?”
Mindy slaps her forehead dramatically, shaking it back and forth as if she’s looking for heavenly guidance to cure my stupidity. “Gavin Adams, you bimbo! You know, the whole reason there’s a production in town filming a movie?”
“What movies has he been in?” I ask, thinking where I could’ve seen this guy before but drawing a blank.
I can’t believe this. I actually walked in on a naked movie star.
Fuck me. I’m so fired.
Mindy gapes at me like maybe I grew a third eye or a second head or something. “Movies? He’s a sports star, but he’s more known for a viral video that hit the web a couple of years back.” She shakes her head as if embarrassed for me. “Jesus, Bri, you’ve really got to get out of the hotel or the classroom more often,” she says, grabbing her phone out of her pocket. She quickly taps the screen and then shoves it in my face. “You saw this guy?”
My heart skips a beat at the instant recognition. The hair’s different. It’s styled and gelled perfectly, but those blue eyes are the same and the face with the powerful, sexy jawline is the same.
I read the information underneath. It’s from some football website. “Gavin ‘Anaconda’ Adams, running back. Six foot one, playing weight of two hundred and twenty-nine pounds, says his birthday’s in November. Yeah, this is him.”
“You lucky bitch!” Mindy says a little too loudly, tugging me up front as a customer dings the bell. I follow her and she begins filling a guy’s order. “Take my phone and check him out. The video will probably pop up when you type in just a few letters of his name.” She chuckles and mutters under her breath to me. “It’s funny because he’s trying to be like a real actor now, too. Though he’d probably be better off performing for porn fetish websites.”
I ignore Mindy’s giggles and begin typing in Gavin’s name on the phone. Sure enough, a video pops up on Google before I can even finish typing. When I click on it, it takes a second for the hi-def video to load.
I see Gavin standing in a locker room and a female reporter talking animatedly to one of his teammates when he suddenly turns around and bumps into her . . .
Ohhhh. My heart skips a beat as I watch the towel fall away from his chiseled hips, revealing huge, muscular thighs and that same huge cock I saw several minutes ago. The reporter in the video jumps back, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes going wide with shock as she stares at Gavin’s monster. A blush comes to Gavin’s cheeks as his cock sways from left to right.
Mindy finishes the guy’s order just as the video ends. It’s short. Less than ten seconds. Gavin was quick to pick up his towel at the end, but it was too late.
“Crazy, ain’t it?” Mindy asks, winking at me.
“Yeah,” I whisper, a flood of arousal going through me, my eyes on the last frame of the video.
“I’m so jealous you got to see that in person!” Mindy pauses and then nods at the phone. “But that’s not the only thing he’s known for. Go look at the other stories they have on him.”
I flip back on the phone and look through other search results. Some of them are just a mix of sports stories. Apparently, Gavin’s pretty good. He’s been All-Pro four out of the past five years, but there’s also a lot of gossip sites that have nothing to do with the sports or the video. There’s a picture of him at a rock concert with a Victoria’s Secret model and one in Cancun with some other hottie. No matter what picture I see of him, there’s always a beautiful woman on his arm.
Money. Fame. Big cock. He has it all. My heart sinks as I realize this dude must be a major player. I guess it’s not surprising, given his profession. The stories about his sex life are absolutely salacious. Headline after headline talks about either the Anaconda video or his sexual escapades.
I shake my head, whispering, “This dude must get more ass . . .”
“Than a Burger King toilet seat,” Mindy cracks, finishing my sentence for me.
I roll my eyes and continue scrolling through the photos. Anger twists my stomach at all the photos of him with smiling women. I don’t know why I’m getting upset. Gavin’s not my boyfriend and I’m sure as fuck not his girl. But still . . . there’s just something about it all that pisses me off. Maybe it’s just the fact that there’s a video of his junk on the internet with probably millions of lusty women watching it.
“I bet he heard me come in and was just waiting to pull the whole surprise naked man gig again,” I fume, handing her the phone back.
For some reason, I’m convinced Gavin thought I would just fall to my knees and service his big cock because he was some famous celebrity. Arrogant prick. Heat infuses my throat, and I bring my hand to my neck unconsciously and swallow back a mix of anger and . . . “Seriously, I—”
I freeze as Gavin strolls into the coffee shop, moving with a swag that steals
the breath from my lungs. He’s dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt that’s opened at the front, showcasing the tanned skin underneath. And he looks damn good. Not as good as he did standing in front of me naked. But still good.
For a moment I freeze, unsure of what to do, but then I quickly duck down behind the counter before he can see me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hear Mindy demand in a whisper from above me. I give her a shushing gesture as I hear the sound of footsteps approaching.
“Hi, welcome to the Beangal’s Den,” I hear her say pleasantly. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for someone,” I hear Gavin say. I close my eyes and hold in a groan at his deep tone. God, that voice. I feel like I’m lying on a bed of velvet whenever he speaks.
“Sure, sir . . .”
Mindy Parker, you bitch, you’d better not give me away.
“Gavin Adams.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Adams. I’m Mindy, the assistant manager here at the shop,” Mindy says flirtatiously. “We here at Grand Waterways are happy to host D-town’s biggest celebrity.” I have to roll my eyes at her audacity of putting emphasis on biggest, and if I weren’t hiding, I’d give her a good smack to boot.
“Nice to meet you too, Mindy,” Gavin says, seemingly ignoring her play on words. “I’m looking for one of your co-workers, one of the maids. She’s about my age, maybe a little younger?”
“Gonna need a little more than that,” Mindy says, and I bite my lower lip, hoping she’s not about to play a prank and betray me. “There’s a lot of part timers here. The hotel has a work assistance deal with the university. Do you have a name?”
“No,” Gavin says. “She ran out on me before I could get it.”
Thank God he didn’t get a good look at my name tag.
Anaconda: A Sexy Romantic Comedy Page 3