Hard Glamour

by Maggie Marr

  Dillon squeezed my hand. A tentative smile crossed over his face. “Are you okay?”

  “I was just thinking about my mom.”

  He tightened his lips and nodded. Losing my mom was still fresh in my mind, but I didn’t really talk to anyone about her.

  “I just…” I looked from Choo at one end of the table to Dillon at the other. “I haven’t felt like this, since…” The tears flooded my eyes. “Since before she died.”

  Dillon’s gaze leapt from me to Choo. He looked scared, like he wasn’t sure what to do with my tears. I pressed my fingertips to my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. A hot embarrassment circled my belly and flooded upward into my face. They’d made me this awesome dinner and we were having such a good time and I’d gone and made myself look like an idiot with my emotions and my tears and—

  “Hey, baby,” Dillon said. He was up and by my side in an instant. He pulled me to stand and pressed his body to mine. He enveloped me with those giant strong arms and pressed my head to his chest. “Baby, it’s okay,” he whispered into my hair. A long breath rattled through me. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. I have you.”

  My body trembled and shuddered. The sobs broke through. In Dillon’s arms I let loose with my tears. Maybe it was because I felt safe. Maybe it was because I felt close to him. Maybe it was because Choo was there too.

  Choo stood and walked toward us and grasped my other hand. We all three walked toward the patio couch.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said and sniffled, and Choo handed me a tissue. I wiped under my eyes. “You make me this fantastic dinner, and we’re having this great time, and then I have an emotional breakdown. I’m so sorry.”

  Dillon wiped his thumb over my cheek and a sad sort of caring smile came over his face. “Baby, it’s okay.”

  “Grief comes in waves,” Choo said. He curled his feet under him.

  I closed my eyes. I could feel that. I could also feel some of the pain shifting. When I thought of my mom now, a lot of the time, I could actually smile. I could hear her voice, something she said or did, and a tiny little smile would curve over my face. Other times I would just have this lonely ache that wouldn’t go away.

  “I… I just miss her. I feel so alone sometimes.” I searched Dillon’s face.

  He wrapped his arm tighter around me and pulled me close to his chest. “Baby, you’re not going to be alone ever again,” he said and kissed the top of my head.

  I glanced at Choo. He watched me and his brother with a gentle smile. “He took care of me too,” Choo said. His glance went to Kong, who now lay on Choo’s lap. Then he looked at Bernie, Scorsese, and Spielberg sprawled out on the tiles in front of us. “These guys too.” Choo stroked Kong. “My big brother likes to give lost things a home.”

  I turned my wet eyes toward Dillon. He met my gaze and his hand stroked through my hair. His lips met mine and the heat flooded through me. I knew that I was different for Dillon, that this—what was between us—was different for Dillon, and that oddly enough, even with all my fears, I had a home here, with him.

  Chapter 18

  Lane

  “Come with me today,” Dillon gasped out.

  I was bent double, grasping my knees with my hands. He’d convinced me to run from the top of Runyon Canyon to the bottom, and even though it was downhill and I had gravity on my side, my chest still heaved. Bernie slurped water from the bucket at the bottom of the path, and even Scorsese and Spielberg, who seemed to have boundless energy, panted and walked in circles. Only Kong still bounced about as though he were ready to race up the path to the top of Runyon again.

  “Where are you going?”

  Dillon stood and turned to me. His physical beauty stole the breath I’d nearly caught. He was shirtless and his skin glimmered with sweat in the L.A. sun. I fought the urge to reach out and touch him, to run my hands over that body, to claim it as mine.

  “You like what you see?” A wicked smile teased his lips.

  “I do,” I said. I smiled back, a little coy in my reply.

  He took two steps toward me and wrapped his hands around my waist. “You better stop looking at me that way,” he said. He bent down and his lips nuzzled my neck. The scent of him, outdoorsy and sweaty, filled my nose and heat swirled between my legs. “Or I’ll take you home and make you pay for those looks.”

  His hand smacked my behind and my eyes widened in surprise. Not just surprise at the spank but at the heat that throbbed through me with his touch. He pressed his lips to mine, and desire spiraled through me. He pulled away before I wanted the kiss to end.

  “Will you come with me to the photo shoot today?” he asked.

  “I have a gazillion scripts to read for you.”

  His lips thinned and disappointment at my response pulsed over his face.

  “Bring them with you,” he said. “Read while they take pictures of me.” He nibbled at the corner of my mouth.

  How could I possibly say no to him?

  “I mean, if you can keep your eyes off me.” A teasing smiled cascaded over his face.

  I rolled my eyes toward the blue cloudless sky. “You think you’re pretty hot, don’t you?”

  He was hot. Dillon was fabulously hot and sexy, and everything that any woman in the entire world could want. His fingertips teased the top edge of my running shorts and drifted down over my hip. The hot spot between my legs throbbed.

  “Don’t you?” He pressed forward and his hard desire dug into me. A hardness that made me want to say yes to him about anything, about everything. Dillon created a physical desire in me, but there was more—I wanted him close, I wanted to know him, to talk to him, to be with him all the time.

  “Okay,” I breathed out on a whisper. I bit my bottom lip and fought the desire to press against him like a cat in heat. “I’ll go with you today.”

  Dillon

  Lane was so hot. If there’d been bushes nearby, I would have picked her up off the trail and taken her behind them and peeled every stitch of clothing off her at the park. Instead, I loaded her and the pack into the Escalade and drove home. My cock was so hard. I needed some relief.

  I jetted into the house. My intention was to get Lane into my shower. I wanted to feel her body. I wanted to lather her and wash her hair and let her perfect skin slip under my hands. I wanted to wash every speck of dust and every drop of sweat from her. Her hand in mine, we walked through the kitchen. I waved hello to Mathilde and steered Lane straight to my bathroom. Straight to my shower. The need to see her body, to touch her, to be near her consumed me.

  I was worried about the photo shoot today. I didn’t mind standing in front of a camera and saying lines—I liked pretending to be someone else—but I wasn’t looking forward to today. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. With still photography, I couldn’t hide behind a character. I wasn’t meant to be another person today when they shot those photos, I was meant to be me, to be Dillon MacAvoy. Lane made me feel strong. She made me feel right. She made me feel like I was exactly who and what I was supposed to be, no matter the changes taking place what seemed to be every second of my life.

  I burst through my bedroom door, turned, saw those big beautiful blue eyes, and got no farther. I pressed my lips to hers. She gasped. I pressed harder. My kiss was rough and filled with need. My kiss held heat and want. Lane surrendered to the demand of my lips and her mouth opened to me.

  Her hips pressed into me. I reached down and pulled her sports bra off her body. Her breasts were in front of me, beautiful and perfect. I bent my head and stroked my tongue over a tight nipple. Lane’s hands clenched my arms and I sucked her nipple harder, rolling it in the heat of my mouth. Her head fell back. A low moan came from her throat. My hand slid down and over the fabric of her running shorts and my fingers pressed between her legs.

  “Dillon,” she moaned.

  I was nearly undone with the sound of my name on her lips, a sound that contained want and pure pleasure. I made Lane feel like this. I made Lane nearl
y crumple to the floor with pleasure. I possessed Lane.

  I rolled her running shorts over those beautiful hips and she stepped out of them. She wore only a tiny lace thong and I let my fingertips dance along the edge. Her hands fumbled and tore at my shirt and then yanked the fabric up over my head. She pulled her lips from mine and pressed them to my chest. Heat seared in the spots where her lips moved against my flesh. Her hands dug under my shorts and she grasped my cock. For a girl who’d just been awakened, she was ready for more. I pressed my finger between the lips of her pussy. She was hungry and greedy with want.

  “Baby, you’re so wet.”

  She clutched me. I circled my finger over her clit.

  “Oh, Dillon, yes,” she moaned.

  I slid two fingers into her and pulled in and out while I kissed her breasts.

  “Come for me, baby,” I whispered. “Come for me again.”

  I grasped her ass with one hand and she lifted her leg. My fingers played along her most sensitive spot. I watched her. I loved watching Lane’s face when she came. I could feel a deep pressure building in me as I watched her face contort and change. Her hips rolled forward into my hand. She pressed up and back as my fingers massaged her clit and pumped in and out of her slick entrance.

  “Come, baby, come for me.”

  Her eyes opened and her gaze locked on mine. Her face tensed and her body, like a tight string, pulled even tighter. Her pussy clenched around my fingers. I couldn’t stand it any longer—I had to taste her, I had to have her in my mouth. I pushed her backward onto my bed and pressed my lips to her pussy, sucking, pulling, teasing.

  “Dillon!” Lane yelled. She shattered while she called my name.

  Lane

  I pressed up from Dillon’s bed, breathless. His lips pleasured me again and again and again. I looked down at him, and his gaze met mine. His lips pressed to the inside of my thigh and then he rose, reached out his hand, and pulled me to stand. He was hard between us.

  “I need a shower,” he said. His eyes glanced down. “A really cold shower.”

  I pressed toward him. His penis rubbed against my belly.

  “I want you,” I whispered. I felt his hardness jerk with my words.

  He closed his eyes. Desire sharpened his jaw. “Baby…” He opened his eyes and pulled a piece of my bed-head hair behind my ear. “I want you too.” His voice was throaty and thick with lust. “But”—his gaze locked with mine—“I want it to be right.”

  My hand stroked up his shaft. He tensed.

  “Baby, I’m trying to be good here.”

  I pulled harder. My grip tightened.

  “Lane.” He clasped his hands to my shoulders. “Baby, you only get one first time, and I want you to be ready. I want it to be special.”

  I knew he was right. I knew he was fighting the urge to sleep with me. I could see the fight in his eyes, the battle he waged. I let go of him and walked toward the bathroom door. I glanced over my shoulder. “Let’s get that shower.”

  Dillon

  She looked better wet, if that was possible. The rivulets of water danced over her skin. I was so hard that I was uncomfortable, but it was worth the pain to see Lane in the water. She turned to me, her caramel-colored hair slicked back, her breasts wet, the water running over her belly, pussy, and thighs. She clutched the base of my cock with both hands. Her sudden grasp nearly sent me to my knees. I bent forward and pressed the palms of my hands against the wall of the shower.

  “Are you okay?” She looked a little frightened with my response.

  “Yeah,” I whispered. My cock was still in her hand.

  “Does it feel okay?”

  I closed my eyes with the pleasure of her hand stroking me with the warm water. “Lane, baby, it feels better than okay.”

  I opened my eyes and her smile told me she was pleased. She was finding her female power. She was stepping into the place a woman owned. Each time we were together, I felt her grow stronger, more alive, more assured. I loved experiencing each moment with her. She wanted to keep moving, to keep exploring, to keep feeling, and that excited me.

  Her hand stroked up over my shaft, a slow hard movement and then back down. I leaned into it. She pressed her lips close to my ear. “Do you think about me?” she whispered.

  Heat throbbed down my spine. “Yes.” I didn’t want the pleasure of her touch to end. I leaned into her stroke. “Faster,” I gasped out.

  Her hand stroked harder and faster, pumping me with more urgency. My breath shortened, coming in quick, hard gasps.

  “What do you think about?”

  The control in her voice, in my little innocent Laney, unnerved me, almost undid me. I opened my mouth to answer but was consumed with the pleasure her hand was giving me as it pulled on my cock.

  “Answer me,” she said.

  I looked at her and saw a dark twinkle in her eyes. She liked the control. She liked her ability to make me feel, to nearly bring me to my knees.

  “I think about putting my cock in your tight pussy,” I said.

  Her stroke moved faster with my words.

  “I think about how there’s never been a cock in your pussy and how tight you’ll be.”

  I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close. She had no idea what she was messing with; she had no idea how hard it was for me not to slam her against the shower wall and ram my cock into her. Fuck the first time. Fuck the sweetness of it. Fuck. All I wanted to do was fuck.

  I pressed my lips to her ear. “I think about how my cock will be the only cock that your pussy ever feels.”

  She gasped. I grabbed for her pretty little tit and my mouth clamped over hers. A dark thrust burst through me and I came. A jet of heat pulsed upward and I came all over Lane’s pretty little hand.

  Lane

  I rode in the back of the Escalade, curled up against Dillon. I felt so lush, so comfortable, so alive. I held an open script in my hand but wasn’t really reading.

  “So what are photo shoots like?” I asked.

  “They’re boring as hell,” Dillon said. “But I have to do them. It’s promo for the film.”

  I closed the script in my lap and looked at Dillon. I thought of our shower together and hot tingles curled through me and licked at the spot between my legs. He settled his hand on my thigh.

  “I have the interview and then the photos. Usually they’re separate, but this time the interviewer wanted to do it all at once.”

  Bob pulled the Escalade to a stop in front of a private home in Malibu. The gate opened and we pulled into the drive. I looked out the window. People scurried along the drive with racks of clothes, giant lights on poles, and a makeup mirror on wheels. A guy with a camera pointed toward the front of the house.

  “I told them they had me for three hours,” Dillon said. “That’s it.”

  Bob opened the door and Dillon slid from the seat. I followed. I reached for his hand, and he squeezed mine and then dropped it as a woman with thick, shoulder-length black hair approached.

  “Dillon!” she cooed and pressed forward to kiss each of his cheeks.

  “Hey, Boom Boom,” he said and pecked both her cheeks in return.

  Her gaze passed Dillon and skimmed over me. She waited for an introduction or explanation of my presence.

  “This is Lane,” he said. “My new reader.”

  My heart dropped from my chest and a deep hole pitted my belly. I felt as though I inhabited the shadow of what was real with Dillon’s statement. I’d thought my introduction would be different after how intimate we’d been just hours before. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I didn’t think I was just Dillon’s reader.

  “We have a ton of scripts to get through, and I thought Lane and I could talk about them between setups.”

  Boom Boom nodded and seemed to dismiss me with her eyes. I obviously meant no more to Dillon than my ability to read his scripts. After today in his room, in his shower, the idea that I was still just his reader and the way he said it to Boom Boom, esp
ecially, hurt.

  “We’re doing the setups in the back of the house,” Boom Boom said. “She can sit at the table on the deck. But they need you in makeup, my darling.”

  Dillon and Boom Boom disappeared into the house together. I stood alone and watched the crew for the photo shoot finish their prep. I walked past the solid wooden front door and into the house. The inside was bright white and was open straight through to a brilliant view of the ocean. A gasp shot out over my lips. I hadn’t ever been this close to the ocean. I walked toward the wall of windows and looked out at the water crashing upon the shore. I wanted to go and touch the water. To let my toes squish the sand. To feel the waves tickle my toes.

  “You’re Dillon’s reader?” a girl with curly hair asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m going to set you up right over there,” she said and pointed to a small table in the corner of the deck with an umbrella beside it. “That way you can work and be close enough to talk about his scripts when we change setups.”

  I nodded and followed her to my spot on the deck.

  Dillon

  I never minded acting for the camera, but I didn’t like posing for one. Not even that giant underwear ad that they trotted out on every entertainment show whenever they mentioned my name.

  I let the photographer for today’s shoot move me and tell me how to cock my hip and turn my body. There were two setups where I had on unzipped jeans and no shirt. I couldn’t even look at Lane while we shot those. I couldn’t go near her. I didn’t really want to explain why I had a hard-on to the photographer and the entire crew. I mean, it happened, they would get it, but it wasn’t like I was working with some outrageous model right now. What could I say to them… “Uh, I’m hard for my reader”?