by Sierra Dean
It was so far out of her wheelhouse, though, she didn’t even know how to begin. Should she ring up the front desk and ask to be patched through to the Provocateur Suite? And what did one say in that situation? Hello, Ethan, remember me? I practically broke into your room and tactfully mentioned your dick. Want to bone? I hear you might be good at it.
Yeah, not so much.
Was there protocol for booty calling a porn star?
Did she have to pay?
Sam covered her face with both hands, shaking her head and letting out a giggle. No, he wasn’t American Gigolo, he was just a guy who had sex for money.
Wait, what’s the difference?
She couldn’t quite figure it out, but she knew there was a difference. One she could use to justify any romp she might have with him. Oh, it’s okay, he wasn’t a hustler, he was a porn star.
Sam sat upright, her head swimming from the sudden downwards rush of blood. Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t call Ethan. She’d humiliated herself around him, and she wasn’t the kind of girl to respond to a booty call, let alone initiate one. The crushing horror of his inevitable rejection would only further ruin her vacation.
Nope, no dice. It was settled, she was going to pretend the whole incident had never happened and grin and bear the remainder of her vacation alone. And sexless.
Nestling herself amongst the half-dozen soft pillows on the big bed, she flipped on the flat screen and scrolled through the limited channels the hotel offered. A preview bar on the bottom of the screen announced new release movies available for rent, and Sam figured if she couldn’t have a holiday fling, she could at least justify a pricey rental. Maybe she’d splurge big and order room service. Nothing said luxury like a twenty-five-dollar cheeseburger and a pay-per-view chick flick.
She selected the VOD option on her remote and perused the catalogue of options. There were a few cheesy rom-coms she’d been meaning to see, but nothing reached out to grab her.
Until she saw the Adults Only tab.
Sam cast a wary glance around the room as if there was someone there who might be silently judging her. She lowered the volume on the TV, half expecting a crescendo of orgasms to announce what she was up to once she selected the menu.
She had nothing to be concerned about. The Adult content menu was as silent as the others had been.
She gnawed on her lip, guiltily perusing the titles. Most were astonishingly filthy, like Cum Guzzling Sorority Sluts 12. How had there been eleven successful installments of a franchise like that? Surely after two or three they’d run out of semen-hungry sorority skanks.
Or Anal Invaders 22.
Yikes.
Each new title made her more and more nervous, and she began suspecting there would be a log of her search on her hotel bill even if she didn’t order anything.
Her remote stopped on P.S. I Fucked You.
It was impossible to forget a title like that, considering how much Sam had loved the movie it was spoofing. But more importantly it was a movie Ethan had told her he starred in. Sure enough, when the film’s description popped up, the blurb read: Porno spoof featuring Dakota Starr, Vixxxen Wilde and Ethan Silver. A woman experiences a sexual romp with her husband’s ghost and enjoys a sexy vacation with her best friends.
It sounded…terrible.
Like, really, really terrible.
Yet she didn’t immediately bypass it. Aside from the obvious allusions to a lesbian-orgy sequence, her interest was piqued by Ethan’s participation in the film. If she wasn’t going to let herself try to have real sex with him, what was the harm in taking a peek at what she was missing? Surely that wasn’t so bad, right?
She wiggled her nose and glanced around the room again, then announced, “I’m going to hit the button. I’m ordering the movie. If anyone thinks this will condemn my immortal soul, they should cut off the power or something.”
No higher power intervened.
So Sam ordered the movie.
It looked like there was a twelve-dollar production budget, and Sam feared the actress they’d chosen to portray the Hilary Swank role might topple forward from the weight of her massive fake boobs at any moment. The woman couldn’t have acted her way out of a wet paper bag, either, but Sam presumed the typical audience for this kind of feature wasn’t in it for the realism or storytelling.
Sam couldn’t grasp the attractive qualities of fake boobs. They were like skin-toned cantaloupes with weirdly tiny nipples. She was ready to admit she’d made a terrible decision, when Ethan strode onto the screen.
Even with the crappy camera angles and the unfortunate presence of the boob monster in the scene with him, Sam was entranced. He possessed a magnetic appeal, making it impossible for her to tear her gaze off him.
He had the swagger of an old Western movie star and the winking, smirking charisma of the most popular guy in high school. His confidence should have made him unappealing to her, it was almost overpowering, but the way he owned the screen made her feel weak in the knees.
She’d been alone in a bedroom with that man an hour earlier.
When her thoughts drifted to the memory of the triple-sized bed they’d stood in front of, a warm flush fanned through her. There was no harm in a little dirty imagining now that she was alone.
With the volume on the TV lowered to nearly mute, she had a hard time figuring out what he was saying, so she raised it a few bars. His voice was a low, nearly threatening growl, but the smile glued to his lips made him seem safe somehow.
She wriggled lower in the comforter and watched as he approached the female lead. The woman was lying naked in a bed, having fake cried herself to sleep, and now Ethan was beside her, whispering filthy things into her ear. He spoke so quietly Sam strained to hear, but she didn’t dare turn the volume up any higher.
“I miss your tight pussy,” he said.
A shock went through Sam, surprising her. The deep rumble of his voice was intoxicating, and for a moment she imagined he was saying the words in her own ear.
“Mmm,” the woman replied, squirming wantonly in her sleep.
“Do you miss my hot, throbbing cock?”
“Oh.” Sam’s hand covered her mouth, and she stifled a nervous snicker. “Wow.”
“Yes. Yes.” Now the woman was touching herself, her too-long fake nails seeming like a dangerous thing to stick so close to her vagina.
Ethan watched with hungry eyes and stripped off his pants and underwear with a practiced precision.
“Oh,” Sam said, her eyes going wide and the tittering giggles fading on her lips. “Holy crap.”
Now she understood how a lean guy like Ethan had made it in the adult film world. She’d thought only big, muscled, beef-cake types were featured, but Ethan had a swimmer’s build—lithe and toned. And sweet mother of God he was hung.
Sam had slept with four guys—a number that made her borderline slutty in Edison Falls—but in her whole sexual career she had never seen anything like Ethan.
His cock was huge. It was intimidating.
And he was going to put it inside that poor girl.
Sam winced, opening one eye a crack, and gawked at the screen with half-horrified curiosity. How could it fit? He was easily eight inches, and while eight inches had never seemed like a lot to her in other scenarios, seeing it flushed and rigid and ready to penetrate someone was a different story.
Was this about to become a horror film?
Ethan’s fingers twined with those of the girl on screen, and he met her frantic rhythm, stroking her until the actress could no longer fake sleep. Her eyes rolled and her hips bucked, and though the screams and moans still sounded rehearsed, there was no way the girl was faking those involuntary responses.
He was really doing it for her.
“You want me to fuck you.” He didn’t ask her. Instead he commanded it, telling the woman what she wanted. Insisting she needed him.
And Sam’s own body responded, wetness pooling unexpectedly between her legs while s
he watched the screen with equal parts awe and uncertainty.
“Yes,” the woman said, and Sam had to agree. If she were in the same situation, she would have had a hard time thinking of a better word.
So she echoed the statement, “Yes.”
Ethan obliged them both.
He spooned the actress, his big hands fondling the tanned curve of each ass cheek as the camera went in for a daunting closeup. He spread the woman wide, and Sam had to wonder how much wax was required to make her look that hairless.
Thoughts of grooming went right out the window when he angled the head of his cock to her wet opening and stroked several times. Sam swallowed hard, her pulse throbbing in her ears.
Did she dare?
Oh, what the hell?
Undoing the sash on her robe, Sam slid her hand over her belly and tentatively brushed her soft flesh. She was scandalized with herself, but not enough to remove her hand or to turn off the television. She lowered the volume on the film and let herself imagine the scene differently.
In her version of events, Ethan hadn’t let her leave his suite. He’d been the commanding, dominant alpha male she was watching on screen, and he would have demanded she stay. She pictured what it would be like, yielding to the will of a man who knew what he wanted. Would he tell her how he liked it or let her figure it out for herself?
Her touch lost some of its hesitation. She began to explore herself in ways that were typically reserved for her most sex-starved nights at home, when she was alone in a hot bath with a nice red wine. This felt much dirtier, more forbidden.
Heat pulsed in her belly, spreading through her body and bringing a warm flush to her skin. She watched the screen through heavily lidded eyes as Ethan thrust into his costar with a frenzied vigor. The sound was up enough she could hear the other woman’s pleading, gasping moans and screams, but they were quiet enough to feel like a dream, as if Sam were eavesdropping on something happening in another room.
She attempted to match Ethan’s furious rhythm with her hand, and she started feeling lightheaded, her fingers going numb with the effort until she could almost imagine it was someone else’s hand touching her.
His hand.
The woman on screen had her eyes shut tight, and Ethan’s neck was wired with muscle as he strained harder and harder, like he might literally fuck the woman senseless.
Sam was on the verge—she felt herself building towards something light and airy, a destination so close she could taste the sweet release of it.
A knock at the door erased any hope she had of tumbling over the edge. She sucked in a breath and stilled her hand with guilty awareness. She couldn’t have been more freaked out if she had been sixteen and her mother had walked in on her.
Was the front desk coming to discuss her rental?
It didn’t seem plausible, but right then she might have believed it was someone hell-bent on scolding her for her wayward behavior. Hadn’t she challenged God right before turning on the TV?
She should know better than to make such statements.
Fate always found a way to come around and kick her in the butt when she least expected it.
Chapter Five
If he was going to be in Vegas, sitting around and waiting for Kelly to show up, Ethan couldn’t see any reason he shouldn’t try to have a little fun in the meantime. He was comfortable enough to admit he was in a bad position. But he’d been in bad places before, and he still figured he’d come out on top as soon as Kelly showed up with his money.
So why not kill time in a way he found most comforting?
Some people ate junk food to alleviate stress. He ate pussy.
Ethan did a palm check of his breath before he rapped on the door again.
There was a chance she’d gone out and his whole mission was for naught, but he had a suspicion the good girl Samantha Hart wasn’t in the mood to go traipsing up and down the Strip on a Tuesday night.
He had it in mind to change that, but first she needed to answer the door.
“Wh-who is it?” came a meek voice from inside. Where was the blustery, big-attitude girl he’d met in his suite?
Ethan stared into the peephole and waggled a brow. “Room service.”
The door swung open, and Sam stood in front of him wearing nothing but a bathrobe, her hair rumpled and a pink glow in her cheeks.
In his professional opinion, she looked like she’d been having sex. He peered over her shoulder into the dimly lit room and tried to see if she had company. There was a blue-hued glow, suggesting the television was on, but otherwise the room was quiet.
“Hi,” he said once he was satisfied she didn’t have another man hidden away. “Did I come at a bad time?”
Sam touched her hair self-consciously, then tugged her robe tighter around her, blocking out the view of her cleavage it had formerly granted. Shame.
“Ethan. W-what are you doing here?”
The wording might have been off-putting in another situation, but the way she looked at him and the faint tremor of her voice made it seem like she was more nervous than angry. He had a good sense of women and had learned to read a lot of signals and cues in his time. On the job it helped him learn what women liked and how to please them. In life it helped save his hide more than once when he’d been able to pick up pissed-off signals from the women he’d dated.
As it turned out, most of his girlfriends weren’t as okay with his job as they pretended to be initially. He had an internal dictionary that could decipher twenty-five different meanings of the word fine.
None of them actually meant fine.
“Invite me in,” he suggested.
“Why would I invite you in?” She played with the sash on her robe, and Ethan fought the urge to lean across the threshold and undo it for her.
“You got to see my room, I think it’s only fair I get to see yours.” He took her momentary hesitation as invitation and waltzed past her, striding into the room before she had time to stop him.
Ethan’s life motto was it’s easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. Besides, begging could be a lot of fun. Especially if someone had to get on their knees.
Sam chased after him, saying something he didn’t quite catch. All his attention was distracted when he walked into the bedroom and got a glimpse of the TV.
There he was, in all his birthday-suit glory, buried balls-deep in Vixxxen Wilde’s wet pussy.
“Huh.” He put his hands in his jeans pockets and cocked his head, taking in the scene on the television, the rumpled sheets on the bed and recalling Sam’s satisfied glow in the doorway.
She stopped beside him and must have realized it was too late for her to come up with a plausible cover story. “Busted,” she muttered.
“Checking the Yellow Pages, were you?” She appeared confused until he added, “Letting your fingers do the walking.”
“Oh.”
Ethan didn’t need to look to know she’d be blushing, but he got a kick out of it, so he grinned at her. “It’s not my best work. I could have recommended a dozen better ones off the top of my head. Really dirty stuff. I bet you’re secretly a bad girl, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?” The lady was protesting too much. He was totally right.
“Oh, come on, sweetheart, it’s a bit late to play coy now. If you wait another five minutes, I get invited in the rear entrance.” He pointed at the TV, and Sam scrambled for the remote. “I mean, you’ve watched me fuck someone now, I’d say it gives me a little license to tease.”
She crossed her arms over her chest—reacquainting him with her cleavage—and fixed him with a cute attempt at a mean glare that only succeeded in giving him a halfie. “You don’t know anything about me. What makes you think I’m a bad girl?”
“Good girls don’t jerk off to porn in hotel rooms.”
“Women don’t jerk off,” she said, sounding as scandalized as a church wife watching a Tijuana donkey show.
“Sure they can. Principle is the same.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I sure am. If you watch a while longer, you can get an idea for how bad I can be.” He reached for the remote, but she threw it to the opposite side of the bed. “Unless you want me to show you.”
She let out a squeak that might have been the most adorable noise he could recall hearing a woman make. Usually when he bedded girls outside the industry, they were in it for a story. One time I fucked a porn star. It was a badge of honor on their Bad Girl Scout sash.
He didn’t get that vibe from Sam. For one thing, she was actively resisting him. At first he’d thought it was because she didn’t want anything to do with him, but he had been willing to convince her it was worth a go.
Now he didn’t think he’d have to work very hard to change her mind.
She’d seen what he had to offer. If he could get her to see he wasn’t all cock, she might lighten up somewhat.
He held up both hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t come here to offend you or make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re doing a bang-up job, so far.”
He successfully resisted the urge to make a joke. “This took me by surprise.” Ethan nodded at the TV. “I wasn’t expecting to see my dick in 1080p HD at like…three times its normal size when I walked in here.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have walked in then,” she reminded him.
Touché.
“Good point. Let’s try this again.” He walked out of the bedroom and back into the hallway, closing the door behind him. After a short pause he knocked on the door, praying she wouldn’t use this against him and lock him out entirely.
It was risky and might bite him in the butt in a not-so-fun kind of way.
Sam opened the door.
“Hi,” he greeted in the same cheeky tone he had earlier.
“You’re an idiot,” she informed him, like he might not be aware of it already. But he saw it, what he’d been hoping for. Instead of looking irritated, Sam was smirking. Score one for Ethan.
“Can I come in?”
“Can you tell me what you’re doing here first?”
“I know when I offered upstairs you said no, but let me give this another whirl. It’s your first time in Vegas, right?”
