Cherry Bomb: Forbidden Bad Boys

by Clara Leigh

  Oh shit!

  Dare holds one of the sweets against his own pucker with his finger, before slowly pressing it into his mouth. “They remind me of something. I just can’t think what.”

  His grin slays me.

  ***

  I’m not really sure what happens for the next ten minutes. People come and go. Tyler heads over to wardrobe. I think he suggests I need to hurry myself up and get over there too, but I’m rooted to the spot. For some reason I can’t stop staring at Dare’s mouth. It’s as if I’ve been zapped by an enchantment. Summer keeps looking at the two of us and cooing to herself. She’s obviously convinced we’re an item, despite my earlier denials.

  “Sweet of you to wait,” Dare says, when he rises from the leather chair he’s been occupying and removes the protective black poncho that’s been covering his clothes.

  I wasn’t waiting, I was spellbound. He takes hold of my hand and suddenly I’m on my feet and we’re walking in step. We can’t do this. It’s exactly what I’ve been told not to do, but it would be equally weird if I jerked away from him.

  “So, Flicka, shall we talk about why you never answered my calls or called me back?” At least he waited until we were away from everyone else to challenge me.

  I shake my head, because even if I had anything sensible to say in my defence, I’m forbidden from saying it.

  “You don’t think at least some explanation is necessary?”

  “I can’t… We can’t…We can’t be near to one another. I’m not allowed to do this, Dare.”

  “Do what?”

  “This,” I fan my arms out to encompass the two of us. “It’s not allowed. Contractually, I’m forbidden to communicate with you unless it’s directly related to the script. That means we can’t be friends. We can’t be anything.” I slide my hands into my hair, before I realise that if I do it’ll ruin the effect Summer’s created, and then I’ll be subjected to further scowls and I’ll hold everything up while I’m coiffed again. “That’s why I didn’t call. Us —” I shake my head hard. “— we can’t be.”

  Dare holds himself frighteningly still as he considered me. His expression is entirely too neutral to read. “Why would we be banned from talking? That’s dumb.”

  “I know, but it is what it is, and I need to obey it.”

  “I thought you were finished following Chinchilla dictates.”

  I nod, and purse my lips, while I look around fretfully in case anyone should see us. “I know, but I don’t want to have to lawyer up.”

  “Sounds as if that might be a startlingly sensible plan. Studio’s should not have this level of control over their artists.”

  “I have a morality clause.”

  He stands to attention, eyes thoughtful. “Were you planning on doing something immoral?”

  “You – you’re everything I’m supposed to stay clear of.”

  A smile flashes through his eyes.

  “You’re planning on doing me? Oh really, tell me more.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. You’re not wholesome. You do bad things, dirty things…” I give a little shake of my head.

  “Like having phone sex?”

  He leans closer, forcing me to take a step back. If he touches me, I’ll crumble. I know I will. I can’t think straight, the inside of my mind is echoing with his promises to finger bang me.

  “Because that was definitely a two-way conversation.”

  I can’t even look at him. I stare to the right of his ear to avoid his gaze. “Please keep quiet about that. Nobody knows. Nobody ever needs to know. Look, I shouldn’t have called you that night. I’m sorry, it was a mis—”

  “Don’t you dare say it.” His hand closes around the top of my arm. “Don’t pretend that wasn’t what we both wanted. It was good. More than good, it was precious, and you know what else would be good? Hell, not good even, but fantastic? If you stopped letting chumps trample all over you. Do you think the Chinchilla bosses are off being all wholesome and goody-goody? Of course they’re not. They’re going about living their lives just like the rest of us, sometimes being good, others a bit reckless.”

  “They’re not in the public eye with a nation watching them. Look, I realise that I started this by approaching you, but you drew the attention of the press. People are watching us now.”

  He looks around. “Nope, can’t see anyone around here who gives a fuck, let alone two, about us.”

  I go quiet. I’d turn away, but I suspect he’d come right up behind me and in any case, he’s still holding on to my arm. “This isn’t easy, you know.” I’m talking to myself as much as to him. “Of course it’s not what I want, but what’s between us isn’t even an actual thing.”

  “It isn’t?”

  I shake my head. “We’ve shared a couple of moments, but we’re virtually strangers. Dare, you share moments with women all the time.”

  “Do I?”

  “You’re wild, you’re reckless, you screw around. It’s public knowledge, and I’m not criticising you, it sounds like a fun way to live, but I can’t be the next notch on your bedpost, not when the price is my future and my sister’s too.”

  “So you’re just going to put your head down and comply? Allow them not only to stipulate who you can and can’t fuck, but who you’re allowed to even pass the time of day with?”

  He’s saying everything I really don’t need to hear right now. I know this is screwed up, but I’m not seeing there are a lot of options. Everything about this situation is pretty straightforward black and white. If I’m good and stay away from him, there’s no trouble, and in time the contractual issues will sort themselves out. Whereas if I’m bad, things get painful.

  “Do they have their little spies out? How are they monitoring it? Do you have to check in and fill out a questionnaire each night? Minutes spent talking to Mr. Wilde. Minutes spent in his presence while drinking a cup of coffee. Minutes he spent finger banging me behind the director’s trailer.”

  “There’s no questionnaire. I don’t even know if there’s anybody watching. Please don’t be angry about this, Dare.”

  He smiles grimly. “That’s a good fucking joke. You can choose to take this shit, but I won’t. I’ll talk to who the hell I please, and I’ll fuck whoever the hell I please. You know where to find me.”

  He releases his grip and backs up shaking his head.

  “Am I supposed to just fuck you and be damned?” I reach out to him, because the truth is that being this close to him is driving me demented. I want all the things he promised: the touching, the tongues, the giddily insane indoctrination into the world of hard-core sex, or in fact, any sort of sex. I want him to drag me behind the director’s trailer right this second and alleviate the ache that’s building between my thighs, not that I communicate any of this. What I say to him is, “Let’s just get through today, please. Look, I have to get to wardrobe.” I turn and head in that direction. Dare stays right where I left him, which is a good thing, I reassure myself. If he caught up, it’s fifty fifty over whether I just snog his face off or reiterate the Chinchilla party line. I just pray he doesn’t kick up a fuss that’ll get me into trouble.

  -12-

  Dare Wilde

  I figured there’d be a reason she blew me off. I can’t even pretend I’m surprised to learn the answer. The Chinchilla group are bunch of repressed arseholes. No communication outside of whatever dialogue is necessary for the film to progress. They’re out of their fucking minds, and Jace is too, if he thinks for a second that I’m going to adhere to this kind of bullshit.

  What Flicka Caine and I choose to do or not do is between me and her, end of. I don’t give a fig about any morality clause. I suspect it’s unenforceable bullshit anyway and really just a means of controlling her so that they don’t lose their precious asset. That’s unfortunately all she is to them—a shit load of cash waiting to be collected, not a young woman with emotional needs and desires. Desires I have every intention of fulfilling.

  Ok
ay, so normally, I don’t chase when I’m blown off. Life’s too short and all that, and I’ve had my fill of hard-work women, thank you. But Flicka Caine has continued to occupy my fantasies despite her cutting me dead, so I’m officially making her an exception, especially since I now understand the reason behind her silence. She’s just too afraid of going head to head with a gigantic bugbear to risk upsetting it. I on the other hand think it’s time someone called the oversized football’s bluff.

  We’re out in the sticks with nowhere to go, so I let her walk off. It’s not like she can avoid me for long, and I’m fairly certain that no matter what happens Flicka Caine isn’t the type to abandon ship. She’s invested in this movie, and I’m sure she realises that this is her chance to show the world what she’s capable of ahead of the Chinchilla axe falling.

  Jace is fiddling about with camera one when I find him.

  “You are here,” he observes, looking up briefly at me, before going back to his angles and trajectories, or whatever the hell it is he’s doing.

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Rumour mill preceded you. The set’s awash with gossip. You’ve got them all rattled up.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “I never said you had, but you haven’t been here and they have.”

  “On yours and Monty’s orders, or was it actually Chinchilla orders?”

  He sneaks another look at me out of the corners of his eyes. “What are you trying to imply?”

  “I’m not trying to imply anything. You let those repressive jerks dictate to you.”

  He shrugs. “No, I agreed a no-skin-off-my-nose compromise. I didn’t need you on set before today, so it didn’t hurt anything to give them that.”

  “And the no communication rule?”

  “Ain’t my rule. I’m not going to enforce it.” His attention returns to the camera.

  “Don’t think for a second I’m going to adhere to it.”

  Jace takes off his glasses and rubs the lens on his shirt. “Fair enough, just don’t be a jerk about it. There’s no need to deliberately put anyone’s nose out of joint.”

  I suppose. Except I can see how this is already worked out inside peoples’ heads. “I’ve been cast as the villain again. Bit rich that when I’m not the one dictating the sorts of relationships other adults can enjoy. They’re the ones in the wrong.”

  Discord makes Jace fidgety. This time he when he turns away from his prize toy, he wipes his hands on the side of his trousers. “Whatever contractual arrangement exists between Ms. Caine and Chinchilla is none of my business. My business is making this film. I’ll thank you not to put that process in jeopardy due to your overinflated opinion of yourself and your inability to keep your fly zipped. Just stay away from her, Dare.”

  “I thought you weren’t taking sides.”

  “This isn’t about taking sides. It’s about expedience and avoiding a shitload of trouble I have no interest in becoming embroiled in. Dare, Chinchilla—” He breaks off to sadly shake his head. “—they’re not monsters. They’re just protecting their own interests the same as any of us might. The Caine twins epitomize their brand; they’re a major asset. Of course they’re going to do everything in their power to protect that. It’s no different to you being photographed with a different woman every night. It serves your purpose to maintain an image of recklessness. I know that’s not you. Anyone close to you knows it’s not you, but if the world knew, you’d be out of a job. It’s the same for Felicity. Ultimately, it’s her choice. You can’t make it for her. If she wants to party with you, she will.”

  “They’re blackmailing her.”

  He lifts his shoulders and gives another shrug. “And… I’m blackmailing you. If I wasn’t you wouldn’t be here, and if they weren’t, she wouldn’t be here, as long as the film gets made, I don’t care. Now, can we get on with it please?”

  I look him over, taking in his slightly unkempt appearance and his bristly stance. All right, secret squirrel, I’ll adopt a measure of discretion in my dealings with Flicka Caine if it helps me get what I want.

  “Seriously, burn up the screen with her, Dare, but keep your hands to yourself the rest of the time,” Jace mutters as I turn to walk away.

  That’s taking things a step too far. “I promised discretion, not a total retreat.”

  Jace lifts his glasses again and throws me a myopic hardball. “It’s in your own best interest, as well as hers, not to screw this up.”

  “No screwing,” I parrot, knowing he’ll accept it as a promise. Really, all I’m promising is that it won’t find the pair of us on tomorrow’s front pages.

  What we do on screen will be a matter of public record. What happens between takes is a matter for only Flicka and myself.

  ***

  It’s another twenty minutes before Flicka appears on set. She looks incredible in the outfit they’ve given her: sleek, soft, feminine and mega goddamned hot. The world isn’t going to know what’s hit it when she blasts her way into the collective consciousness. Ladies and gentlemen, the spunky ingénue is all grown up. It’s hard to stand back and not go straight to her. I have to lock my jaw tight to stop it dropping open. “Flicka,” I acknowledge her only after I’ve worked my way through introductions with the rest of the actors. A low burn of pleasure runs beneath my skin as our palms make contact and we shake.

  Up until this moment, I didn’t have a huge amount of faith in this production. Admittedly, after multiple reads, the script is decent. It has this wonderfully knotty dialogue and some seriously blow-away scenes that aren’t just CGI wankfests. Alfie’s even worked in a few bits of magic for me too. It’s not exactly redemption – okay, it is. And I don’t exactly get the girl – I kind of do – but it’s only when I feel that sizzle between us that the possibility of Accelerant becoming a genuine box-office smash hits home.

  The lady and I generate some serious energy.

  We don’t speak, but understanding passes between us during the few seconds that our gazes meet. I’ll behave and she’ll behave and on the surface everything will be all right. What happens in the darkness of our minds is another matter entirely.

  Jace muscles his way through the cluster of technical assistants to reach us. “We good?” He asks me, nodding at the script I have in my hand. “Nothing too taxing?”

  He both is and isn’t asking about the script.

  “Fine. I’m set whenever everyone else is.”

  “Do you need to run through the words?”

  I shake my head. I know that Jace will insist on multiple takes even if we produce perfection from the start, so I don’t worry about whether my inflection will be perfect, or if the speaking pattern of one of the other actors might wrong foot me, instead I pull on the character like an old familiar jumper and let him invade every part of my being.

  “We’ll start rolling in ten.” Various people nod or shake their heads as they assume positions behind various bits of equipment or else continue to scurry across our stage for the day, removing specks of dust and making sure every prop is in exactly the right place.

  I stand off to the side and flick through the pages of the scene, following the action as it’s soon to be played out.

  Flicka comes to stand beside me. Her scent fires up my senses. I envisage throwing her down onto the acre-wide bed of her on-set bedroom, spreading her thighs, and burying my head there.

  “Wider,” I demand after I drag her panties down to her ankles. I want to see everything. I want to know how ripe she is. How ready for my cock. Not that I rush straight in. I take my time, drinking my fill before leaning closer. Her limbs tremble when I blow gently against the lips of her sex. I know how responsive she is. I’ve heard her come.

  “Please,” she murmurs. “Touch me.”

  “With what?”

  “Any part of you.”

  Fingers?

  That’s what I promised. I don’t break promises, leastways not ones to ladies whose panties I’d like to
get inside.

  I spear two fingers through her curls, and drag them over her clit to the entrance to her pussy. She squirms as I use them in conjunction with the tickle of my tongue to open her up. She’s virgin tight. I’m not even sure she’s ever had a man tease her like this. Little sobs and raspy gasps escape her mouth as I lick and suck her clit. She’s desperate for everything I have to give, so very eager and appreciative. Each time I tug, she shivers. When I concentrate on pumping my two fingers inside of her at the same time as tugging her eager nubbin, her hips jack up off the bed. Her hands clasp the back of my head and push me down in a wordless plea to deliver more.

  She tastes of Morello cherries.

  “That’s your cue,” she whispers, and I realise that I’ve missed it.

  “I thought you were set,” Jace growls. He shakes his head sadly. “Take two.” The action begins again.

  Bad me. I must concentrate more on set. “Sorry, Flicka distracted me. I’m ready now.”

  ***

  In actuality, our first bit of screen time together isn’t set in her character’s bedroom. It’s in a warehouse, gunfire blazing around us and missiles being hurled. Jace is all about throwing people in at the deep end and he makes no exceptions. Good thing that after doing eleven films with this bastard, I’m well aware of this. His direction is short and to the point: run, shout, roll, enjoy a bit of a scuffle, whip out the gun, and everything’s good.

  Once he’s behind the camera, Jace doesn’t give a fuck whether you’ve been living his script for the last two weeks or two minutes. He expects movie magic, and luckily, I know exactly how to deliver it.

  It doesn’t hurt that my first action is to hurt Tyler… Well obviously, I don’t inflict genuine damage—not much—and it’s his lousy goody-two-shoes character that gets it, not him, but the sentiment’s good. I haven’t forgotten the crap he was spewing about me this morning.