by Parker, Zoey
But then, two minutes later, he was back to being teasing and mocking. I frowned as I stared at his profile through my Gucci sunglasses.
“Dante,” I said carefully, “do you really think I’m spoiled?”
Dante burst out laughing. I glared at him as the sound of his raucous excitement filled the Camaro.
“I’m not kidding,” I whined. “Do you really think I’m useless?”
Dante shook his head. He was still chuckling, and his cheeks were bright pink. “No,” he said after a moment. He shifted the car into a lower gear as we turned off the freeway. “I don’t think you’re that spoiled.”
I licked my lips. “So, you still think I’m at least a little spoiled, then,” I countered.
I crossed my arms over my chest. Somehow, I hadn’t been expecting him to admit that. I knew it was stupid, but part of me had been hoping the little trip to the hospital would’ve changed that. I mean, obviously, I hadn’t just wanted to go so Dante wouldn’t think I was a rotten person after all. Still though.
“Well…” He looked towards me, but with his mirrored sunglasses I had no idea whether or not he was actually looking at me. “I mean, Katia, does this even matter? It’s not like we’re gonna be in touch for too much longer. As soon as this stalker shit dies down, I’m off.”
My stomach twisted into a knot and I frowned again. What’s going on? Why the hell is this even bothering me so much?
“That’s true,” I said slowly. “But do you think I’m a bad person?”
Dante laughed again.
“It’s not funny,” I said in a sharp voice. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”
Dante sighed. He ran a hand through the sexy tangles of his unruly dark hair. “Katia, I don’t even know what that means,” he said. He sounded tired, worn-out all of a sudden, like the day had been too much for him. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters,” I argued. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the leather seat. “I don’t want you to think I’m horrible!”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Dante said.
Up ahead, I saw my condo looming on the right-hand side. Dante expertly slowed the Camaro and pulled into my driveway. As he turned the key in the ignition, I couldn’t ignore the lump that was forming in my throat.
“Yes, it does,” I said stubbornly.
“It really doesn’t. You’re gonna go on with your life, no matter what I think. And after this is over,” he said, using air quotes for the last few words. “You’re probably gonna forget all about me and start going out with Mr. Big, or whoever you girls dream about.”
I glared at him. “That’s not true,” I said. I shifted in the leather seat, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.
“And furthermore,” Dante continued. “You think I’m a criminal.” He lowered his aviator shades and looked at me. His eyes were completely serious, no hint of laughter or joking behind them. “You told me as much yourself, so what the fuck does it matter if I think you’re a spoiled princess?”
I bit my lip at his stinging words. But when I thought back to our earlier interactions, even the one that had led to our passionate kiss in my living room, I knew that he was right. I’d called him a criminal. I’d acted like I was better than him, just because I was famous and had money.
“Never mind,” I mumbled. “It doesn’t matter.”
Chapter Nine
Dante
I didn’t fucking understand her. I’d never really been great at understanding women. I was good at fucking them, but that was about the only thing I could really claim when it came to the fairer sex. I’d never had a real relationship, either. Wasn’t because I couldn’t get one, but because I’d never wanted one. I never understood the point of fucking a woman more than once. Even a woman as smokin’ hot as Katia Reynolds.
What’s that saying? Show me the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’ll show you a man sick of her shit?
Yeah, something like that.
My buddies in the club, Tristan and Troy, always had girls hanging around. They were more like Heaven’s Veil groupies than anything else though. And they’d always vie to sleep with me, but that didn’t work out too well. I was usually too busy worrying about the well-being of my guys. I didn’t have time for some cheap little floozy who expected a warm bed and a hug just for giving me head.
When I was in high school, before I dropped out, there was a girl who followed me around and flirted with me. I had to give her credit. Back then, I was a greasy motherfucker who rarely showered or shaved, and I always wore trench coats with ripped up jeans. She was in a few of my classes, and she’d always make it a point to sit beside me and flirt with me.
She’d wear skirts and sit with her legs spread just enough so I could see the white crotch of her panties. It used to drive me crazy. I never got to see her pussy; she wasn’t that kind of girl. But the glimpse of her labia nestled in white cotton was enough to make me cum my pants more than once.
She’d lick her lips and toss her hair over one shoulder and act all innocent and sweet. I think her name was Tanya. She never even talked to me outside of class. I used to dream about fucking her, but the truth is, we never even touched.
That was about the closest I’d ever come to having a girlfriend. I got laid for the first time when I was fourteen, some girl that was hanging around my older brother, Stephen. He and I barely had anything in common, but we shared the same blue eyes, dark hair, and mischievous grin. Girls flocked to him, even though he was kind of a nerd. He did debate team and was in the bowling club, but he could still get pussy.
One day, this little redheaded girl showed up while I was sitting on our porch. She was older than me, probably sixteen or seventeen or so.
“Is Stephen around?” She flicked her eyes over me with interest. “Who are you? His brother?”
I nodded, sticking out my chest and trying to look cool. “Yeah, I’m Dante.”
She giggled. “I think I had a class with you last semester.” I watched as she blushed; it lent a delicious pink undertone to her pale skin. “Algebra One, right?”
I snorted. “Yeah, fuck that shit. I hate math.”
“I do, too.” She giggled again and scooted closer. We were sitting outside on the front porch, and it occurred to me then how beautiful the sky was, all shades of purple and pink and orange. I wondered if it was always this pretty at this time of the day, or if I was just noticing it for the first time.
“So,” I said, trying to sound suave. I stretched my arms over my head and let one rest on the back of the porch swing. “You’re Stephen’s girlfriend?”
She blushed and shook her head. “Um, no.” She crinkled up her nose and gazed into my eyes. Her eyes weren’t exactly green, more hazel, but the sun caught them in a pretty way that almost turned them golden, like a cat’s.
“You wanna be Stephen’s girlfriend, then,” I said as I grinned at her knowingly. It wasn’t a question but a statement. “Get in line. He has girls calling him around the clock.”
She licked her lips. “He probably doesn’t even know I exist,” she said mournfully. I watched as her pink lips opened and a small sigh came out of her perfectly-formed mouth. “I mean, we’re in drama together. But he’s so popular. I can’t even compete with those other girls.”
I put my arm around her for real then. I wasn’t trying to mack on her, just make her feel better. At least, that’s what I told myself when she leaned into the crook of my arm. It felt so good to have a warm girl pressed up against me, a girl who smelled like strawberries, Dove soap, and something vaguely sweet but unrecognizable.
“What’s your name?” I asked her softly.
Instead of answering, she shifted in the porch swing and pressed her lips to my cheek. I turned my face and met hers, and then we were kissing for real. When she slid her tongue into my mouth, I tasted bubblegum. I thought my cock was going to explode in my pants.
“It’s Lilly,” she said shyly, pulling away.
“You wanna go inside?”
That day remained one of the hottest days in my life. I think I spanked to it for years afterward. Lilly and my brother never wound up dating. I wonder why. She didn’t hang around much after that, and we never slept together again. I probably wasn’t a very good fuck. I think I lasted all of five seconds before groaning and filling the condom. But that day was important to me; it was the day I’d become a man.
“Hey,” Katia said. She snapped her fingers, jolting me out of my Lilly-induced reverie. Katia walked into the living room wearing a pair of jeans and a white sweater. “What’re you doing?”
I blinked. “Nothing,” I mumbled.
She burst out laughing. “You’ve been staring at the wall for like, twenty minutes,” she teased. “I’m going shopping for dinner.”
I stared at her. The afternoon sun was catching her blonde hair, making it look almost white. The jeans were practically molded to her body, and I could see the curve of her ass through the denim. And the sweater was a sexy one. The soft wool was knit in a pattern with holes, and I could see her tan skin through the fabric. My cock twitched in my pants as I thought about what it would feel like to grab her, take her, make her mine.
“What?” Katia looked down at her sweater. “Do I have something on me?”
I shook my head.
Idiot, I thought with a groan. Act like a fucking man, you’re not some stupid teenager! You’re thirty years old, for fuck’s sake! If you wanna fuck her, fuck her!
“No,” I said. I stood up and ran a hand through my unruly cowlicks. Katia stepped closer, and a warm, spicy-yet-floral scent wafted over my senses. “I can take you to the store,” I said casually. “I’m bored as fuck right now.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to protest. Ever since that day in the hospital earlier in the week, I’d thought of her a little differently. She was still a spoiled little bitch—don’t get me wrong, but I was starting to see her as almost innocent, the kind of girl who wanted to act like much more of an adult than she really felt. I had a feeling that a lot of Katia’s snobby behavior was all adapted, all something that she’d started putting forward as a way of making herself seem more like the typical beauty queen, the typical L.A. girl.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “You can drive.”
I grinned. As we climbed into the car, an idea struck me. “Hey,” I said. “You ever seen the Hollywood sign? Like, the view from up there?”
Katia’s blue eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No. I’ve always wanted to see the view. People always talk about how incredible it is, but I’ve never been.”
“We should go up there.” I backed my Camaro out of the driveway. Katia looked good sitting in it beside me. I wouldn’t have told her, but I was dying to see what she’d look like in a bikini, rolling around on the hood.
“Why?” Katia frowned. “I thought you hated spending time with me.”
I sighed. “Not this shit again,” I said darkly. “I don’t want another round of questions like you gave me after going to the hospital.”
Katia bit her pink bottom lip, and a jolt of desire shot through my body. “Okay,” she agreed. “No more questions.”
I kept my eyes locked on her as I drove out towards the Hollywood Hills. Just seeing her at the hospital had put her in a new light. She was obviously the favorite person of those sick girls, and despite Katia being endearing to them, I wasn’t sure why she kept going every week—if it was genuine or a celebrity stunt, to make her look good?
I frowned as I steered the car onto the freeway. The first of those options didn’t really fit with my idea of Katia Reynolds as a person. She wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. Ice cold, more like.
Maybe there’s something about her I don’t know yet , I thought as I shifted into a higher gear, passing a lane of cars. Yeah, right, I decided, looking over. She was probably just doing it to look good for me.
“At least there haven’t been any more creepy emails, right?” I glanced over at her. Katia was sitting perfectly straight, staring out the window with her rose gold Gucci sunglasses perched on the bridge of her perfect nose. “I mean, that’s gotta be a huge fuckin’ relief for you, I’d think.”
Katia nodded. “It’s weird,” she said slowly. “I never felt unsafe before, especially not in my own condo. Not even at beauty pageants with all those creepy guys around.”
I burst out laughing. Katia looked offended, but she didn’t say anything in response.
“I bet,” I said carefully.
“Oh my God,” Katia said. She giggled and put a hand against her chest. “I did encounter this super sleazy old guy once though.”
“Yeah?”
“I was qualifying for the Miss Universe pageant—I didn’t win, sadly,” she replied with a sour expression. I had to stare; even when she was pissed, she was still gorgeous. “But yeah, I had to go to this dinner sponsored by the man, and he was such a creep!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, he walked around touching all of our butts! It was so gross!”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I mumbled, raking a hand through my hair. “And you just had to take it?”
Katia nodded. She looked miserable, and I felt a pang of something strong. Frowning, I bit my lip. What was it about her that made me want to protect her?
“We were supposed to think of it as an honor,” she said loftily. “I mean, how gross is that? Some creepy, old man grabs you, and you’re supposed to like it?”
I pulled off the freeway and started driving up one of the older country roads that I knew led to the Hollywood sign. As the Camaro bounced over cracks in the road, Katia squealed. I watched as she bounced up and down; her breasts, her ass, all flying around the inside of the car like she wasn’t even strapped in.
“What?” Katia asked primly. “You’re staring at me.”
I didn’t reply. Seconds later, I felt her hand on my thigh. Katia slid her fingers up my leg, gently squeezing my thigh. When she got to my crotch, I groaned. I was already hard. Just seeing her tits bounce around from the bumps was enough to make me solid as a rock. Katia slid her fingers over the bulge in my jeans, and I suppressed the urge to moan.
As quickly as I could, I slowed the Camaro down and pulled over to the side of the road. Even though we were only about half an hour outside of L.A., it looked like we were in the middle of the country.
“What are you doing?” Katia looked out the window. “This isn’t the Hollywood sign, I don’t see anything—”
Reaching across the seat, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in close. Her lips against mine felt like two silk petals, and I moaned as she slid her tongue into my mouth. Katia’s hands on my lap felt as hot as molten lava, and as she brushed her fingers against my cock, I shivered and groaned.
“God,” Katia moaned out softly. “Take me, Dante.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice.
As smoothly as I could, I tumbled into the back seat of the Camaro and pulled Katia with me. She landed on top of me with a soft groan, and I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. As we kissed, I pushed my muscular thigh between Katia’s legs against her crotch. I could feel the hot pulse of her pussy through the skintight material of her jeans, and for a moment, I thought I was going to cream my boxers.
Katia flattened her body against mine. Her trim tummy and full breasts pushed against my chest, making me feel like a real man. I was filled with the urge to tear her apart, to rip her clothes off, to make her so satisfied that she’d never want another cock for the rest of her life.
“Dante.” Katia moaned. I shivered. The way she said my name was enough to send a powerful bolt of lust running through my body. I shifted my body, putting one hand on her waist and the other on her hip. Pushing Katia underneath me, I crawled on top of her as best I could. The Camaro’s back seat was small and snug, but we fit perfectly, almost like it had been designed for this steamy moment.
As Katia pressed her lips to mine an
d ran her tongue along my lower lip, I groaned with desire. She ground her hips against me, spreading her legs and wrapping them around my waist until I was locked against her crotch.
Nudging Katia’s head up and to the side, I nibbled my way down her neck, kissing and licking her tender, tan skin. She tasted like vanilla and Tom Ford Black Orchid. My cock was throbbing in my jeans by the time my face was buried in her breasts. The white sweater was made of soft wool material, but it was skimpy enough where I could see the swell of her breasts rising and falling in a black satin bra.
I slipped my hand under Katia’s sweater and moved to tug it over her head. She didn’t resist; she even craned her neck up to help me. When she was laying underneath me in just a bra and jeans, I stared at her.