Playboy

by Logan Chance

  My eyes search hers. Next thing I know, I grab a condom from my wallet. Up goes her red dress. Down goes my zipper. It’s a frenzy to get closer to each other.

  I hoist her up, and her nails dig into my scalp. “I want you,” I murmur against her lips. This is so insane. I’m about to fuck Chelsea. It’s so wrong. But feels so good.

  She wraps her long, tanned legs around me as I kiss down the column of her throat. This is real. This is happening.

  I push inside her, ah fuck, and groan. We still.

  “Oh god,” she breathes.

  “Goddamn, you’re so tight,” I whisper against her ear.

  I drive into her as she takes me in deep. Her moans escalate with each pump of my hips. My groans do too.

  Pumping and thrusting. Grinding and screwing. Pushing and fucking. Right here in the hotel. Insanity washes over me. Need builds. Want overflows. Until I can’t take it anymore. It feels so fucking good being deep inside her, feeling her wet heat wrapped around me.

  She drives me toward delirium with each soft touch of her fingers. In the dim light, she’s breathtaking.

  One thing is certain as she moans and groans my name, I want to do this again and again. This one-time fuck fest against the wall is for the birds. I want to properly fuck her. Run my tongue over the entire length of her body. Have my head buried between her thighs, licking her pussy.

  My cock builds with pressure, my lust for her to get off first consumes me.

  “You feel so good,” I say, pinning her harder against the wall. I pound into her rougher, deeper, as her fingers run across my scalp.

  The sounds she makes escalate.

  Mine do too.

  My body catapults.

  Her legs tighten their grip. She’s ruining me. Trembling and quivering, her body moves along me. She smiles, and I kiss her insatiable lips, tasting their sweetness. Hard. Rough. Passionate. It’s a kiss of kisses.

  “Let me down,” she whispers.

  My heart is pounding so fierce, I’m not sure I heard her right. I pull out. She drops her legs and slides down. But then, she sets my whole fucking body on fire when she turns around and braces her hands on the wall. Her ass pushes back against me and she looks over her shoulder, “Fuck me from behind.”

  All the yearning, the craving tumble together making me ravenous for her.

  I’m sure these halls are closely monitored. There’s probably a camera aimed right at us. For some reason, the fact someone could be watching excites me.

  “You’re so fucking wet.” I slap her ass and enter her in one swift strike. It’s more than I can take. I’m in so deep. And she gives as good as she’s getting. My balls tighten and I reach around to rub her clit. She’s dripping.

  In all my life, I’ve never wanted anyone more.

  “Jonah,” she cries out.

  She’s coming, and I’m not far off. My insides buzz, victory ignites within my veins, my whole body shudders and loses control.

  It’s never felt this good before.

  My knees go weak. My heart thunders in my chest. Her wet pussy grips me.

  And I float away, letting go as triumph flows through me.

  I come. So hard. It keeps going and going, and I don’t really care if it ever stops.

  It takes a minute to catch my breath, but she’s having the same issue.

  We finish up, fix our clothing, and find a place to collect ourselves. When she steps out of the restroom, I want her again.

  Even though I just got off, I still want to spend the rest of the night getting to know her body.

  She blushes as she moves toward me. “Hi,” she says.

  I say hi back.

  It’s a little awkward, so we head to the bar.

  I’m not going to let it ruin our night. To me, it was something special. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. Maybe because of my past ‘playboy’ rep, either way, this isn’t a one-time ordeal for me.

  18

  Chelsea

  I’ve never wanted anyone as much I wanted him.

  But, is he remorseful? Insecurity sets in. What if he thinks it was a huge mistake?

  I should say something, but my throat’s gone dry.

  “So…” he starts.

  “That was interesting.” I order two shots of tequila and try to remain neutral to our little tryst.

  “Very,” he says. He appears uneasy.

  I know regret is sinking in with him. I’m sure it is. So, I put him out of his misery and give the best performance of my life.

  “Let’s never speak of what happened ever again. Agree?”

  He nods and blows out a deep breath. “Absolutely.”

  And there you have it. It never happened.

  But it did. It did to me.

  Having sex with my old crush was insane. In a good way. Insane in the best way. Everything felt right. Everything fell into place.

  But, it’s Jonah.

  Jonah Marshall.

  He would never want me long term.

  Mr. I Hate Relationships.

  This was nothing but fun for him, I’m sure. Just another romp in the hay.

  He’s always been this way, right?

  Declan has told me stories about Jonah. Stories about one-night stands.

  I just need to bottle it all away and save it for late nights when I’m all alone. Instead of sleeping, I can draw back on these memories.

  I don’t regret any of it.

  I’ve only been dreaming about it since I was sixteen.

  But those are kid fairytale wishes that never come true.

  I’m an adult. So is he.

  And sometimes sex is just something that happens between two consenting adults. Nothing more.

  Case closed.

  So, when he slides me a shot, I toss it back, forgetting the last hour of my life.

  The shots keep coming and coming, and the more I drink, the touchier I become. I can’t keep my hands off Jonah.

  My head spins, and he kisses all the turmoil away. His tongue searches my mouth, and I dig my nails into his hair, pulling each strand.

  “Take me somewhere,” I whisper in his ear.

  “Where? I’ll do anything you want.” His voice is feral. Each breath he takes sounds needier than the one before.

  “I don’t care. I just want to be with you.” I gaze into his dark, heated eyes. It’s as if he’s never wanted anyone more. I try to believe it’s true.

  “I want to be with you, too,” he breathes against my lips.

  I inhale his words, hoping this isn’t a dream.

  It could be the liquor. It could be a million things. But, when he stares at me, when he touches me… it’s everything. There goes all the talk of it never happening.

  He pulls me close and moves me to a dance floor.

  A slow song begins, and he rocks into me. “Do you know how jealous I was of Wayne? How happy I was that he didn’t show? When I saw you in that lingerie, I couldn’t not touch you.”

  I’m so turned on. So wet for him. The alcohol mixed with his words make me insane with passion.

  “I wanted you to touch me. I’ve wanted you to touch me for so long.”

  His hardness presses up against me as he moves me around on the dance floor.

  He spins me, so his chest is against my back. He sweeps my hair off my neck. “You’re mine.”

  I’d tell you more of what happens, but I get so drunk that I can’t remember what I’m doing.

  All I know is I want Jonah—forever.

  19

  Jonah

  “Dude, dribble the fucking ball,” Declan yells at me.

  “I’m trying.”

  Truth is, I’m fucking nervous. Every Sunday night we meet at the gym for a little one-on-one basketball workout session. It’s been three hours since I’ve been home from Vegas. Three hours of weirdness.

  Chelsea and I haven’t talked much about our time in Vegas. But, something keeps nagging at the corners of my mind.

  Declan slams
the ball at my chest. I fucked his sister. And after that, we both got trashed.

  Like, can’t remember shit trashed.

  I aim, take the shot, and miss by about a mile.

  “What is wrong with you?” Declan says.

  “Just tired, I guess.”

  He grabs the ball. “How was Vegas? How’d the shoot go?”

  Do I tell him I modeled with his sister?

  “It was fine.” I shake it off. This funk, this whatever.

  “That’s cool. What’s up with you?” he asks as he steals the ball from my fingers.

  “Got a lot on my mind.”

  He sinks a shot and turns to face me as the ball bounces away. “You usually say that when you’re upset over a girl.”

  I jog after the ball. “Ah, you know me so well, huh?”

  “Better than you know yourself, Jo.”

  “So, who is she?” he asks, and I freeze.

  I try to dribble the ball, but it slips from my fingers. “Uh, no one.”

  “Do I know her?”

  “No,” I say, quickly.

  His eyebrow raises as he studies me. “Must be pretty bad if you aren’t talking about it.”

  “It isn’t that.” I tell him about the shoot. How the male model didn’t show and I had to fill in. I tell him the whole story of Vegas, leaving out everything after the shoot.

  “So, what’s the problem then? Wait, you don’t have a thing for Chelsea, do you?” he asks.

  “What? No,” I scoff.

  “Ok, good. I nearly had a heart attack.” He wipes the sweat from his brow, and we continue playing. He spanks my ass in hoops.

  As he’s leaving, he looks over his shoulder, saying, “I play a mean game of b-ball, if I do say so myself. I do, I do.” He kind of hums the last two words.

  And I fucking stop. Dead in my tracks.

  I do.

  It all comes rushing back.

  The memories I was too drunk to remember.

  A wedding chapel.

  The song.

  Chelsea and I giggling down the aisle.

  The kiss that sealed the deal.

  I’m fucking married. America’s favorite playboy has gone and gotten himself hitched. Ok, I know I’m not America’s anything, but let me freak out in peace.

  This is big. No, this is gigantic. I don’t want to be married. Does Chelsea remember?

  It was a mistake to get married. No big deal. Right? Right? It’s no big deal? Ok, it’s a huge fucking deal.

  I can’t breathe.

  When I enter my house, Chelsea stands in the living room, paper in her hand, shouting to no one.

  She stomps over the hardwood, tears streaming down her face.

  Oh shit. Maybe she does remember. Maybe her freak out is a little bit more than mine.

  “How could you?” she yells at me. “You changed all your passwords.”

  Passwords?

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, tossing my gym bag down by the door.

  “I’m in character. I’m a psychopath.” She hits me with a stare I’ve never seen before.

  Yeah, no way am I fucking telling her now. No thanks. Married or not, crazy psycho is not on the menu tonight.

  “Oh, how’s it going?” I ask, kind of afraid for my life at this point. Chelsea’s a great actress.

  “Not good. I’m trying to work on this scene for an audition I have tomorrow.” She wipes her eyes and plops on the couch.

  “Need some help?”

  Her eyes twinkle. “Really? You’ll help me?”

  “What’s the role?” I ask.

  “This role is huge. It’s a thriller. A girl hates her life and becomes obsessed with an online celebrity. She stalks him through social media, even friending his family members to get closer to him.”

  “I’d probably go see this one,” I offer.

  “Oh, but wait, she eventually turns his family against him through all of her lies. After she drugs him and they kiss, she goes on a rampage killing everyone.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “But, it’s more than fun. This would be the best kind of challenge for me. And I really want to push myself with it,” she says with a gleam in her eye.

  “Let’s do it. Just imagine I’m Marlon Brando.”

  “You’re a much better version of Marlon.” She laughs.

  “I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse,” I say, running the back of my hand over my jaw in my best Godfather imitation.

  “Thank you. This is really important to me.”

  “How hard can it be?” No pun intended. I can’t even fucking think straight. I’m about to read lines when I should be telling her. Does she even remember?

  Ok, new plan. Read the lines, get this over with, then tell her, so we can get this thing annulled.

  “Ok, so the scene is right before she goes crazy. She tries to convince him that he loves her.”

  “Sounds easy enough.” She hands me the script, and I flip through the pages. My eyes zero in on the ending, and there’s a kiss.

  “Obviously, we don’t have to do that part,” she whispers when she sees what part I’m reading.

  “Do you have to kiss another guy?” I hate the fact of her becoming an actress all of a sudden.

  “I guess. I’m not really sure.”

  I try to shake off the sinking feeling of her with another guy. Damn, my mind is a train wreck right now. “Alright, let’s start.”

  “Daniel, how could you?” she yells, starting the first line.

  “No, you lied to me,” I say, obviously without an acting bone in my body.

  “I didn’t. I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t find the words,” she says, and she’s not bad.

  “Well, you should have told me. You turned all my friends against me.” I laugh a little.

  Her eyes bore into mine. “I love you,” she whispers, and the words sound good in my ears.

  My chest does that little warming thing again, and I try to pay attention to the script in my hand. But, then another thought hits me…she’s my wife.

  And now she’s ten times sexier to me.

  She’s mine. We’re married.

  “I don’t know if I can trust you ever again,” I say, glancing back at her after reading the line.

  Tears fill her eyes and wow, she’s a great actress. “Please tell me how I can make this better. What can I do?”

  I want to toss this paper aside and grab her. “Gretchen, there’s nothing you can do.”

  Her fingers slide down my cheek. “I’ll do anything.”

  Fuck, I wish this were real. My body screams at me to take her. I try to focus on the words written in the script, but I can’t. I’m a goner.

  My heart pounds. “No.”

  She moves closer. “Please kiss me. You’ll fall in love if you kiss me.”

  The air sizzles between us. “Hell no, you’re delusional.” But, I want to say ‘hell yes’ more than anything.

  This is where the scene ends, but neither of us move. In a flash Chelsea returns to the girl I know. The crazy eyes have completely vanished.

  I want to kiss her.

  Fuck this. I move in, claiming her lips. She lets out a moan as I grab her by the waist and pull her closer.

  “Jonah,” she whispers.

  I suck along her neck, moving down to the ridge of her collarbone.

  The next thing I know, I’m hoisting her into my arms and carrying her off to my bedroom. I kick the door open, and set her on my bed.

  I stand back, gazing at her on my bed. It’s as if she belongs there. I grab at the back of my shirt, taking it off in one quick movement.

  She sucks in a breath.

  “I’m going to do what I wanted to do with you in Vegas.” I move closer.

  “What’s that?” she asks, biting her lower lip.

  “Watch you.”

  She tilts her head, her big eyes watching me unfasten my jeans. “How?” she whispers.

  “Remove yo
ur shirt.”

  She obeys, and her tits are hidden behind the pink bra she has on.

  I lean against the post of the bed as she runs her fingers over the lacy material. “Do you like what you see?”

  I nod. “Take off your pants.”

  She has on these sexy yoga pants that show off her perfect curves. In Vegas, I wasn’t able to appreciate all her assets and perks.

  But, tonight, oh, tonight, she’ll be fully enjoyed.

  “Take your bra off. Play with your tits,” I tell her.

  She moves so slow. It’s the worst form of torture. My cock is at attention, hard and ready to go.

  I remove my jeans and boxers.

  She sucks in another breath as her eyes fixate on my thickness. This is the first time she’s seeing it.

  Sure, she’d felt it in Vegas, but tonight is the first time we’re actually seeing each other. I pump my cock in my hand. “You like what you see?”

  “Yes.” She squeezes a nipple, and I groan.

  “Baby, fuck. Spread your legs.”

  She arches her back before spreading her legs for me. It’s fucking sexy. With her hands still on her tits, I beg her to move them to her panty-covered pussy.

  She touches herself, and all thoughts are directed to my dick who is now in control.

  I can’t think straight.

  I watch. And watch.

  Her moaning on my bed. Her squeezing her tits. Her hand running up and down over her pussy.

  God, she’s everything I want.

  “Take your panties off,” I demand.

  She slides them ever so slowly down her long legs. It drives me crazy how slow she’s going. It’s as if she wants to drive me insane.

  She smiles, seductively. “You want me to keep playing with myself?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” I answer, pumping my cock.

  “But I want to play with you.”

  “Oh, you will.”

  It’s painful trying to go at this pace. But, I want to enjoy her. In Vegas it was rushed, and lust-driven.

  Now, I have a chance to actually watch, see, and explore her.

  I want her to see stars. I want to make her explode with passion. There’s so many things I want right now, but the thing I want most, is for her to love every fucking minute of it.

  The bed dips as I get on, crawling over her body, kissing my way up.

  “Keep touching yourself,” I whisper against her clit.

  I lick at her wet skin, sucking her finger into my mouth as well, and then I take over eating her pussy. Her nails dig into the top of my shoulders.