Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (74 page)

He grabbed my hips and began to pound into me, each thrust causing me to cry out from the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. My neighbors were probably going to complain but for once, I didn't give a shit. The way that Dane fucked me felt so intense and incredible that there was no way I could avoid being loud. If they wanted peace and quiet they could move somewhere with thicker walls. He reached forward and grabbed my tits, squeezing them and playing with them roughly as he fucked me. Then his hand slid down my body and suddenly he was rubbing my clit, bringing up the intensity even more. Though I'd just had an orgasm I could feel a second one coming close. Dane could sense it too.

“Aw, are you gonna cum again Savannah?” he asked, his fingers circling my clit as his cock slammed into me, “Are you gonna cum for me?”

I couldn't even speak. He gave one more thrust and I screamed as a second orgasm exploded through my entire being. The first one had been strong but this one was something else entirely. Dane pumped into me a few more times before he gave in and came too. I felt him filling me up as
my muscles continued to spasm.

“Fuck, I needed that,” he said. We both did. No matter how much we might regret it in the morning.

Dane

I'd been with a lot of girls in my time, but not one of them didn't know who I was. At least, not since I was twenty years old and had starred in a hit movie adaptation of some violent video game and suddenly I was everywhere. Since then I'd starred in over a dozen movies, most of them major blockbusters. Now I was twenty seven years old and there wasn't a girl on the planet who didn't know my face. Or so I had thought.

Savannah was the weirdest girl I had ever met for a number of reasons. She didn't look weird, unless you count ridiculously hot as weird. She had the whole bouncy blonde thing going on with her long hair, milky white skin and unreal curves. Her heart shaped face looked so angelic with her rose bud lips and big green eyes that she took me off guard. I guess that I hadn't been expecting her to be so feisty. She really found me annoying. I hadn't had someone be so rude to me in years. It was sort of refreshing actually. When you were as famous as I was it was difficult to tell who actually liked you and who was just sucking up to you. I knew where I stood with Savannah and that felt good.

Even so, I tried not to get excited. There were two or three girls I'd met who had claimed not to know who I was. They'd done a pretty convincing job too, until I'd slept with them and seen the details of it (usually wildly exaggerated) in next week’s tabloids. Some of them were groupies, obsessive fans who could recite every line I'd spoken in every shitty movie sequel. These girls would tell me that I was a 6'2 Leo with a Scorpio moon and that my first concert was The Rolling Stones and that my mother's name was Suzi without batting an eyelid. Some of my peers lived on that kind of attention and refused to sleep with anyone who didn't treat them like some kind of celestial being. As for me, well I found it flattering at first but it soon started to edge on creepy for me. Still, I slept with a few because they were pretty and let's face it, it probably made their life.

They'd be telling their grandchildren about their romance with a movie star in decades to come. I was just being good to my fans.

Then there were the other kind of girls. It was easy to get them confused with the first category if I wasn't careful. They sometimes overlapped. I'd made the mistake a few times at this point. These girls liked me too but they were a bit smarter. They were the aspiring singers, dancers and actresses. Some of them didn't even have any creative tendency, they just wanted to be famous. They felt that being seen with me would boost their careers and give the exposure that they needed. These were the girls that I met at remote hotels for discrete liaisons only to find a hoard of paparazzi waiting for us when we arrived. To be fair, I didn't blame them. The industry was hard to get into and they were doing whatever they could to catch a break. If I got my dick wet in the process then that was just luck.

Savannah didn't fit in either of those categories. Something about her told me that this girl didn't fit many molds. By the end of the night I genuinely believed that she didn't know who I was. It was amazing really, like living in an alternate universe where I was still living on ramen and getting rejected by directors when I wouldn't give them blow jobs. It was nice. Strange, but nice. I wanted to know her.

We were both drunk enough to lose any inhibitions but not drunk enough to not know what we were doing. So I fucked her. Out of all the girls I had fucked, dozens and dozens of them, Savannah was the best. Savannah knew just knew what did it for me, as if we had been fucking like this for years. It was perfect.

The mistake I made was staying over. Normally, I never did. I guess the booze really hit me when we were finished fucking and when Savannah went into her bedroom I followed her. Not sleeping over was a rule I had in place for a reason. Sleeping over meant awkward small talk in the morning at best and at worst it ended with the girl crying and begging me to stay. That was the last thing I wanted. Relationships weren't exactly a top priority.

Before I'd gotten famous I'd had a girlfriend for a little while. It wasn't a great love story or
anything, we were just two people who like hanging out outside of the bedroom too. It ended when she moved to Canada and on good terms as well. I wasn't scarred for life or anything and another relationship might even have been on the horizon if things had gone differently. That was until I got famous. That was when everything changed. I'd never struggled to pick up chicks but now I had my pick of the hottest girls in Hollywood. I quickly learned that they were all only good for one thing. Even the ones who seemed interesting had ulterior motives. It was better to fuck them and peace out, move onto the next. Not a perfect system, but it worked for me.

When I woke up in Savannah's bed I silently cursed myself for letting this happen. God damn it, this would be so awkward. On the other hand, maybe she would want morning sex. After the crazy time we'd had together last night I knew that I wouldn't say no.

I turned around to face her and saw that she was asleep, curled up in the sheets with her blonde hair spread out on the pillow. Her makeup hadn't even smudged. She looked so ethereal, it was hard to believe that this was the same abrasive girl I'd fucked until she screamed last night. It seemed a shame to wake her when she was like that, but my morning wood was aching. Maybe she could do something about it for me. Her lips would be perfect for blow jobs, I just knew it by looking at her. “Savannah,” I said softly, surprised that I remembered her name, “Savannah, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked right at me. I could tell that for a moment she couldn't remember what had happened. Then it had all come flooding back. She groaned at me.

“Oh god, you're still here?” she turned so she was on her back, wincing in pain, “Fuck, my head is pounding.”

“You didn't kick me out. And yeah, it will be like that for a while. You drank a lot,” I said. I decided to cut to the chase, “Why don't you suck my dick to take your mind off it? Cum has protein in it, it's probably good for you.”

All right, it was a little crass but I made myself laugh. Savannah clearly didn't see the funny side. “I'll pass, thanks.”

She grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table and gave a little squeak when she saw what time
it was. She gave another, bigger squeak when she saw all her missed calls.

“Shit, I was supposed to be at work two hours ago to take in Mrs Reed's daughter's flower girl dress. She's going to kill me. I am so fucking fired!” she said. I opened my mouth to reassure her but she shushed me, “Don't talk, you'll make things worse.”

That put me in my place. She dialed Mrs Reed's number and talked to her, apologizing profusely. “I'm so sorry. My dog had a seizure and I had to rush him to the vet. I left my cell at home so I couldn't contact you,” she said, adding fake tears for emphasis. It was a creative lie, to give her credit. She preformed it very well. It wasn't surprising to me when Mrs Reed seemed to lap it up. “Oh thank you so much Mrs Reed, you're so kind. I'll be over as soon as I can. Bye!” she said. She hung up and gave me a disgruntled look when she saw that I was eavesdropping, “What are you looking at?”

“You're quite an actress,” I said. For a moment I imagined what it would be like for Savannah to be my leading lady. She had the looks and the talent. She had the tits and the ass. Something told me that she wouldn't be the easiest to work with, however. Directors didn't usually dig the diva type. You couldn't afford to have an attitude until you had hit the big time. Then you had free reign. She rolled her eyes.

“And you would know. Look, I need to get ready for work. Is there a polite way to tell you to fuck off or will I just have to be rude and say it straight?” she asked. I grinned.

“Say no more.”

It was a shame that I would never see her again. She was spunky and I liked it. She didn't even want my number.

Savannah

One night stands were just not for me. It was a fact that I had spent my whole adult life trying to argue with, but I always lost. It wasn't because I was a clingy bag of emotions. No, the last thing I wanted was the white wedding, little picket fence and three kids fantasy. The thought made me
shudder. I was no prude. I guess I was just not suave enough to pull off a true one night stand. The build up and the sex were always great, but that was it. Then you had to deal with the sleeping arrangements and the awkward goodbyes. One person always wanted to hang around for a little too long. Sometimes it was me and sometimes it wasn't. Either way, it was hell.

I knew that sleeping with Dane was a mistake as soon as I woke up. He looked just as sexy in the daylight, but everything came flooding back to me. I remembered what an arrogant ignoramus he was. How could I have let him fuck me like that? It was going against every principle I had. At the same time, the sex was the best I'd had in years. I didn't fully regret it, though it wasn't my proudest moment. I'd just have to move on and get along with my life.

It turned out I wasn't as fucked as I originally thought I was. I'd worked for Mrs Reed before and she'd been satisfied with my standard, so she didn't mind me being late. Besides, taking in her daughter's flower girl dress didn't take much time. It was a very straightforward job. I got it done faster than I'd expected and left, feeling better with some money in my pocket. At least she wouldn't complain to the agency about me. Her house wasn't far from where I'd left my car last night so I was able to stroll over to it without much trouble. It hadn't been clamped and I didn't have any tickets. For once, life was on my side.

“Oh my god, Sav! Is that you?” God damn it. I'd been hoping that no one would see me. In my haste to get to work I'd thrown on whatever I could find, which turned out to be a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt I hadn't given back to my ex. My hair was messy and I hadn't even had time to apply any mascara. Still, I'd been spotted so now I couldn't run away. I turned and saw my friend Rochelle, dressed immaculately as always and laden with shopping bags. Just the sight of her made me angry.

“Hey Rochelle, how are you?” I asked sheepishly. She pulled me into a painfully tight hug that latest just a tad too long. Her perfume was overpoweringly musky, strong and sensual. Obviously more expensive than the cheap body sprays I used to smell decent. She was doing well for herself. “I'm great sweetie,” she said, releasing me from her grip, “How about you?”

Rochelle and I were a very particular kind of friends. If she died, I would have gone to her funeral but if she got dumped I'd probably feel great. We'd met at design school and been the two most promising students in the class, though my work was always a little more creative than hers. Yeah, well creative didn't sell. The last I'd heard of Rochelle was her collection at New York Fashion week going down a storm and this year's IT girl wearing it on the red carpet. It was sickening. I hated myself for being so envious, but I couldn't help it.

“I'm good,” I said, trying to defer attention from my career, “So, shopping spree huh? Did you get anything nice?”

That question was a mistake. Rochelle insisted on showing me every single item she got and explaining why she got it (including gum). Six designer lip glosses because she just couldn't chose between them. A knitted sweater that cost more than my car. A pair of earrings with diamonds as big as marbles because cubic zirconias really aren't the same. There was a plethora of other items and I had to nod and smile at all the right times. Hearing her describe things that I would never be able to afford made me feel like garbage, but god knew there was no interrupting the woman once she got going.

Finally, she pulled out a short stack of glossy magazines.

“And I picked up these because my new collection is being featured in all of them. God Savannah, can you imagine what our eighteen-year-old selves would think if they saw us now? They would be amazed at all we've achieved,” she said, her eyes glimmering. Christ, she really was pushing it now. Maybe her teenage self would be happy, but teenage Savannah would be pissed off.

I glanced down at the magazines.