by M. L. Young
“Where?” I asked, wondering where he was taking this.
I probably would sleep with him if he asked, but only if he asked nicely, even though I wasn’t that girl. I just felt like I knew him. I was sure he got that a lot, his charisma was obviously high since he was an actor, but it was different. Every girl probably told herself that when she went out with him, but I wasn’t them. I was better than them, I was me.
“A drive, maybe? I know a spot in the hills. It’s not big, but it’s cozy,” he said.
“I’d like that,” I said with a smile.
He paid, we left, and the lights flashed outside as the paparazzi were sitting and waiting for him. I wondered how much they’d get paid for our picture, but they probably didn’t even care about me. I was a ghost stalking him, as millions of eyes would see him but not me, and I was okay with that. I was very much okay with that.
Chapter Seven
Cash
My hands wrapped around the fine leather steering wheel as the wind ripped through the cracked windows and subsequently Jenna’s hair. I hadn’t the slightest clue where we were going or what we were doing, but I knew with a woman like her it really didn’t matter so long as we were doing it together.
“This car is so fast,” she said.
“Probably the only reason I bought it. My uncle restored a ‘69 Charger when I was growing up, and riding around in that thing instilled a passion and love for fast cars in me. I know this isn’t American muscle, but it’s damn close,” I said.
We pulled into the hills, driving up the steep terrain as the car cut through the narrow streets like butter. I looked over at her as I took a corner, wisps of her brown hair like shadows obscuring her face.
She caught me looking at her, returning the favor and flashing a smile. My heart raced like the engine in this car. We pulled into the spot I knew, a little overlook above the city, and I unlocked the car and we got out. There were houses nearby, but nobody else around. The street didn’t have even a single car passing, and we could actually hear nature all around us, even though that was pretty rare for a place like this.
“I’ve never seen Los Angeles from up here before,” she said, looking around.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? On a clear day, you can sometimes see a shard of the ocean in the distance. Too dark for that now, obviously, but maybe I’ll have to bring you back sometime during the day,” I said, laying the foundation.
“Confident guy, aren’t you?” she asked.
“You have to be this day and age if you want a second date. There’s a lot of competition,” I said.
“Yeah, but you’re a movie star. The competition can’t be that fierce,” she said.
“It doesn’t seem to matter to you, so maybe you’d choose some other guy, like a cashier, over me. That’s okay, I’m not knocking cashiers, but I’m just saying that it doesn’t seem to matter much to you what I do,” I said.
“I don’t care in the sense that what you do doesn’t make me want you any more or less than I would have if you washed dishes in a restaurant. I’m very happy for you and the success you’ve had, but it doesn’t mean anything in terms of you getting or not getting a second date,” she said.
“Oh, so I might not get one?” I asked.
“This date has to end before I could even give you a second one,” she said. I got closer to her, my arm wrapping around her shoulder, and she looked up at me with a smile. To anybody else looking on we probably looked like a couple, all giggling and close together, and that was why I knew I needed a second date.
“I thought you didn’t want it to end already,” I said.
“I don’t,” she said, leaning in and kissing me.
I was floored, shocked that she made the first move, though I didn’t fight it or make a big deal about it. I could tell she was a know-what-she-wants-take-charge kind of woman, but I had always been expected to make that first move on any date or in any relationship before her, so this was kind of new, but also very refreshing.
We slowly pulled back, as our lips didn’t want to part. I smiled, she smiled, and then she shivered a little and I suggested we go back to the car so she could warm up. We got in, I turned on the seat warmers, and I could see the goose bumps on her arms start to shrink as I tried to figure out the next move. Should I invite her over, or should I take her home? Was it presumptuous to think she would come home with me? Did I want her to come home with me? I didn’t want to necessarily jump into sex right away, but I guess her coming over didn’t explicitly imply sex.
“This is a really stupid question, at least I think it might be, but do you want to come over and maybe have a glass of wine or something? I don’t live that far away, and like we said, we don’t want this date to end,” I said.
“Why would that be a stupid question?” she asked.
“Because I don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to get into your pants,” I said.
“Thank you for respecting me enough to not try it, and I didn’t think that was your intention, for what it’s worth. I’d love to come over, though I won’t promise staying over or anything,” she said.
“I understand. I’d just like to spend more time with you,” I said before pulling out of the overlook and driving towards home.
I kept my right hand on her thigh, towards her knee, and she rested her left hand on top of it. How was I feeling this way about a woman I’d just met mere hours earlier? It was like I’d known her since childhood, and we’d known every secret and minute detail about each other’s lives. That was what made this so difficult for me, even though in reality it was a great thing. I didn’t want to do the normal dating things I did with other women with her. I didn’t want to just get her in bed and have sex with her. She wasn’t a one-night stand, but at the same time I almost felt like I couldn’t control myself around her. I wanted her more than anything, but I knew having her might hurt my chances of having anything sustainable.
I needed to keep my head in the game, and I couldn’t let myself succumb to my desires so easily. I needed somebody to be with, not to be with for one night.
Chapter Eight
Jenna
The outside of Cash’s house was exactly what I thought it would look like when I first pictured it in my mind. It was large, the garage huge, with a front entrance that looked straight out of a magazine. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was once featured in one of those architecture or home magazines.
We pulled into the garage, the door and gate closing behind us, before he got out and opened my door for me. He held out his hand, I grabbed it, and he helped me out of the super low car like a gentleman before closing my door and guiding me inside. Soft lighting along the baseboards illuminated the hallway as we walked into the living room, the wall-to-ceiling windows in front of us highlighting Los Angeles in a way that was even better than the lookout he took me to. I didn’t know why he didn’t just suggest this in the first place.
“That’s a really great view. I can’t believe you get to come home to it every day,” I said.
“It’s hard to be away from it when I’m traveling, but yeah, I love it. It’s even nicer to share it with somebody instead of keeping it to myself,” he said.
I looked over at him, the lights outside twinkling in his eyes, before I looked back outside the window. He lit a fire, the glossy gray tile of the fireplace going all the way up the wall and to the top of the cathedral ceiling.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.
“Anything is fine,” I said.
“Wine?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied, following him to the kitchen.
His kitchen dwarfed mine, making it look like the Easy Bake variety, though I suppose that was to be expected. He had a wine fridge as big as my normal fridge. He took out a bottle of white that he quickly uncorked and poured sideways into the wine glass. “I hope it tastes okay,” he said, handing it to me.
My lips puckered as the tart wine hit my t
aste buds before settling down. “It’s good,” I said, as he missed the face I made.
“I’m really happy you decided to go out with me tonight. I didn’t think you would,” he said.
“You thought I’d stand you up?” I asked.
“No, not that, just that I didn’t think you’d go out with me from the beginning. You didn’t seem to want to,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, yeah, that,” I said, laughing a little. “I’m just not like other women.”
“Which is why I wanted to go out with you,” he said.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“I guess I’m looking for something that’s impossible to find—at least for somebody in my position. Every woman I meet wants to just be my lover, and nothing more. That might be fine for a night or two, but not for a lifetime,” he said.
“So you want to get married?” I asked.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last bit. I’m probably scaring you off or something. I didn’t ask you out because I’m trying to marry you,” he said, backtracking.
“Don’t worry, we’re good,” I said, laughing. “I know what you mean.”
“Good. I just want somebody who considers that as a potential, you know?” he asked.
“I get it, but I also find it hard to believe that all those women would just want to hook up,” I said.
“No, not all of them, but that doesn’t mean I should date them. They just want what they think comes with all that. Jewelry, trips, shoes, shopping, expensive dinners, red carpets, and everything like that. They aren’t so interested in being with me as they are with the things I could give them,” he said, taking a sip.
I could see how much it bothered him, and rightfully so. He was a decent guy, and these Rodeo Drive bimbos were yanking him around. They wanted his AMEX and not anything about him. It was sad.
“Well, I’m not like that. I’m not sure how much of a consolation that is, but yeah, I’m not one of those chicks,” I said before taking a sip.
“I know,” he said, nodding.
He put his arm around me, suddenly, as if testing the waters, and I didn’t back away. I’d had plenty of guys put their arms around me, guys I was dating, on a date with, and men I didn’t even know, and trust me when I say I’d pushed my fair share of men away. Not him, though. I kind of liked him, in a weird way, almost as if I shouldn’t like him but did anyway. It wasn’t in a rebel way, like my parents hated him but I “loved” him, or even in a “we’re way too different to ever make it work” type of like, but just a genuine one. He seemed real, and in a city full of Botox-riddled men and bro-type beach dwellers, it was refreshing.
He looked at me, and I looked at him, nothing being said between us. It was intense like a staring contest, but also calm, and not threatening in the least. I felt good, so I kissed him.
I leaned in, the wine giving me the final liquid push. Our lips touched, and my eyes slowly closed as his did. He seemed a little shocked, taken aback, but not scared. He didn’t just let me kiss him, but instead kissed me back, his arm curling tighter around me. He pulled me in a little, not enough to smother me, but enough to let me know that he wanted me there. I responded, my tongue seeking his, as his mouth opened and welcomed me in.
Our tongues wrapped around one another, almost wrestling, and I felt a warmth in my stomach that I hadn’t felt in quite some time. He pushed back my hair from in front of my face, setting it behind me ear, as his palm rested on my jaw line and his thumb moved slowly across my cheek. We were like pre-teens making out for the first time, a little disjointed, kind of sloppy, and very awkward, but that was the best thing it could be.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked between breaths.
I nodded yes, my eyes not opening, before I felt him grab my hand and guide me away. The dimmed lights were almost too much for my eyes as I opened them after keeping them closed for so long. He led me down the hallway, up the stairs, and to his room. His perfectly made bed and a gorgeous, clear view greeted us upon arrival.
We didn’t say a word, instead touching one another, before I fell back onto the bed and he pounced, getting on top of me and running his hand down my thigh.
I grabbed his shirt, starting to undo the buttons, before I sat up while he stood up. He pulled it off his body, tossing it aside. His abs were perfectly sculpted, cascading down his midsection. I touched them, feeling every ridge and bump, before looking up at him. He leaned down and kissed me, then reached behind me and unzipped my dress, gently pulling down the sides as it started to fall to the ground.
I could see his bulge growing in his slacks while he grabbed my breasts and started to squeeze them. They were bare, my dress bra-less tonight. I grabbed his belt and started to undo it. I unbuttoned his slacks, pulled down the zipper, and let them fall to the ground before I reached into his boxer briefs and started to feel his warm, thick cock. It had been a while since I’d played with one of these, and I was more than happy to get back into the saddle with something so substantial.
He breathed heavier as I pulled down his briefs and tossed them to the side while getting on my knees. He helped me, tossing down a pillow for me to kneel on, while I grabbed his balls and massaged them in my left hand. My right hand swirled around his cock, tugging it, as I was sure it had now grown to its final form. I wanted to taste it.
I leaned in, opening my mouth, and felt him enter as he wrapped my hair around his hands and kept it out of my face and mouth. I winced a little, my mouth not used to opening so wide anymore, as I breathed through my nose and tried to encompass all of him inside. I couldn’t, it was just too big. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he gently rocked forward and back, the shaft of his dick brushing against my tongue, and he let out a small moan every now and then to let me know that he was enjoying both himself and me.
Five minutes in he pulled out, grabbing my hand, before helping me up and lowering me back onto the bed. He was so gentle, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Maybe that was the kind of guy he was, or maybe he just knew he had to be gentle with something like that between his thighs.
He pulled down my black lace panties, tossing them aside, before getting on his own knees, my ass to the edge of the bed, and brushing his tongue against my pussy, making my hands clench the cotton sheets. “Shit,” I moaned as his hands gripped my thighs.
His tongue flickered against me as I closed my eyes and arched my back. It felt like ecstasy, and I never wanted the feeling to end. As his tongue swirled around my clit and made me think it would never get any better, I felt his finger push against me and start to slowly enter. I could hear my juices dripping down it as he began to slowly push in and out of me with it. I moaned, causing him to go a little deeper, before I felt his finger turn around inside me.
It pushed upwards, against my G-spot, as I clenched my stomach and held my breath. He stopped, letting go, as I was once again able to breathe, my hands finding my forehead as a little bit of sweat formed at my hairline.
“I—” I said, before he did it again. I stopped talking, unable to, as the feeling he gave me was almost too much to bear. His thick fingers, coupled with whatever he was doing to me, created an almost instant orgasm. “I can’t take it anymore,” I finally muttered as he let go.
His finger exited me and he reached into his nightstand and took out a shiny golden wrapper. Weak, I lay there as I watched him slip it down his throbbing cock. It was so much harder than when I blew him, little veins beginning to pop out, like pleasuring me truly excited him. I’d hardly met any men who were more into pleasuring me than themselves. I knew this was going to be good.
He lay on the bed next to me, behind me, before I flipped onto my side and his chest pressed against my back. He lifted my leg up, me holding it up, and I felt him push his head against me and find his way in. I reached down, helping him, and my mouth opened in pleasure as he found his way inside me.
“Oh my god,” I mumbled as he slowly pushed in further.
> He grabbed my leg, holding it up in the air, and I reached down and rubbed my clit while letting out hard, short moans. I turned my head, looking at him behind me, before he kissed me, my head resting on his arm, and our tongues met again. How could a man like him, a man I really didn’t even know, make me feel this way? I wasn’t the one to hook up, but this didn’t even feel like that—not one bit. It felt natural, it felt good, and most of all, it felt right.
He wasn’t rough, but he also wasn’t gentle, just right in the middle—right where I wanted him to be. He fucked me hard enough to feel every inch of him, but he also fucked me gently enough to let me know I was safe with him. And in this moment, I definitely felt secure.
My neck starting to hurt, I pulled him out of me, instead pushing him onto his back before I climbed on top of him. I put one hand on his shoulder, using it for support, while the other one reached down and found him. I slid down, it going in smoother than before, as I was now a lot more accustomed to his girth.
He reached up, grabbing my tits, playing with them as they bounced in front of him. I gripped his shoulders as he twisted my nipples gently before reaching around and slapping my ass.
“Harder,” I said, and he slapped it harder. I smiled as he gripped it and likely left his handprint deep within the tissue.
“I’m close,” he said, and I felt his cock becoming stiffer.
“Good,” I replied as his breathing grew shallow.
I watched him biting his lip, as I knew he was about to explode. I didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, and didn’t speed up, instead staying steady, my pussy’s lips wrapped tightly around his cock as I waited for him to finish.
“I want it,” I whispered, as the fuse was lit.
He couldn’t hold on any longer. He let out a sigh and I felt his cock pumping as I stopped and felt it shooting inside his condom. Even though he was finishing inside it, there was always something that felt so raw and natural about a guy finishing inside you, because you knew that you made him do it. You excited him enough to make him cum, and you were the one he was with when he did it.