by Sierra Dean
He grinned and pulled her closer. “Like I said, it’s not a fancy event. Did you bring a dress?”
“Sure, but it’s just a plain one.”
“That’ll be fine. Believe me, you’ll look overdressed compared to some other people.”
“Oh?”
“It’s the Adult Video Awards, Sam. A lot of the girls…well, most of the girls are really comfortable being naked in front of an audience.”
Sam wrinkled up her nose. “They won’t actually be naked, will they?”
“They’ll be as close as is legally allowed by the state of Nevada.”
She rested her chin on his chest and gazed up at him, big green eyes suddenly full of concern. “Won’t it be weird? I mean, there will be a lot of women there you’ve slept with. Like…a lot.”
“Haven’t you ever brought a boyfriend to an event with coworkers?”
Sam smacked his arm. “I own my own business, so no. And don’t even pretend like cocktails with the folks from the office are the same as spending an evening with a hundred girls you’ve had sex with.”
“But it is the same. That’s my job. Those girls are my coworkers. And even if the work might be more intimate than what most people are used to, it’s still just a job to us. We know where the line between work and real life ends. None of those girls think I’m dating them. There’s nothing to be jealous about.”
“I’m not jealous,” she replied too quickly, but her tone gave her away. She definitely was a bit put off by the idea of spending time around the other women he’d slept with. Faintly, Ethan was aware that this was a normal reaction for a woman to have, yet it still didn’t compute to him. He knew how to distinguish between the women in his professional life and his private life, so it was hard for him to understand why the women he dated couldn’t do the same.
He’d dated one or two of his costars in the past, and it was the only time he could recall sex not becoming a point of contention. They slept with other men, he slept with other women. But when it came to their relationships, they were monogamous.
That distinction didn’t seem to translate to the outside world.
If he was going to continue seeing Sam after they left Vegas, she would need to understand the realities of dating a porn star. And since he liked her and would very much like to keep her as a part of his life—in whatever context they could work out—he thought it might be a good idea to introduce her to that side of who he was.
So far she’d only seen him in videos and only knew about his job in a distant sense. Sure, she’d watched two movies now, but it wasn’t quite the same thing as attending an industry event. There was a chance if she saw him with other actors and was able to get him in his element, maybe then the whole thing could stop being an issue.
Either that or it would put a permanent wedge between them.
But considering how much shit Ethan was in, it might be best for Sam if she got spooked. At this point it was too late for Ethan to drive her away on his own. He wanted to keep her around too badly.
Sam was good for him. Even if he was no good for her.
Chapter Eleven
The deal was, Sam would go to the AVAs with Ethan, but then she got to arrange for dinner afterwards. The idea of planning a dinner that might live up to anything he’d done for her so far was more stress than actually thinking about the awards ceremony.
She’d seen him watching an episode of Hell’s Kitchen and knew there was a Gordon Ramsay restaurant somewhere in Vegas, but would that be enough? Was he watching the show because he was a fan, or just because it was on?
The whole discussion of them going to the awards ceremony and making plans for dinner afterwards had brought their evening to a close without any actual sex occurring. Not that she didn’t count the oral as sex per se, especially since it was the most phenomenal orgasm she could ever recall having. But she hadn’t gotten to interact with his famous penis, and it bummed her out a little.
Was he going to want to have sex after an event designed to reward him for having sex? Would her dinner plans be the deciding factor, or could she just ask him to strip for her again?
More importantly, was she going to want to have sex with him after meeting dozens of beautiful, scantily clad women who already had?
It was too much to think about.
Sam was an overthinker by nature, and finding herself in a situation like this sent her poor brain into high gear. She’d woken early when Ethan was still asleep and left him with a note saying she’d gone to her own room to plan for the evening ahead. Now she was pacing the floor of her suite, trying to figure out what she was going to do.
In the shower, beneath the droplets from the rainfall showerhead, she began to relax a little. He’d gone to great lengths to explain to her that all the women he worked with he just considered coworkers. Sure, it was still hard for her to reconcile his job with a normal one, but Boring Kyle had managed to bone one of his colleagues, and that definitely hadn’t been his job. Ethan wasn’t hiding the fact he slept with other women and was even trying to put her at ease about it.
What was it he’d said? Haven’t you ever taken your boyfriend…?
She scrubbed the shampoo in her hair as if she could wash the overly hopeful thought out of her head along with the suds. It was just a turn of phrase, nothing more. He wasn’t calling her his girlfriend. It was a bit premature for those kinds of statements. After all, they’d only known each other a couple of days.
Yet…he was so different from the other men she knew. And granted, there weren’t a lot of options in Edison Falls, but she’d gone away for school, she knew plenty of men her age, and none of them were quite like Ethan. He was brash, cocky and all those other alpha-dog traits she tended to dislike. But he was also charming. And not in a phony way. Ethan Silver, her porno Prince Charming.
She rinsed off but stayed under the water awhile longer, letting the droplets massage her skin and chase off her feelings of unease.
Once she was out, she would call the restaurant and make reservations. She would put on the nicest dress she’d brought, dig out her heels and get her game face on. Tonight she was going to meet about a hundred of the other women Ethan had fucked, and she was going to shake hands and play nice with each and every one of them.
Sam met Ethan downstairs at a quarter to five, so they would be at the event hotel in time for the six o’clock red carpet.
“You know they usually do it here, at the Hard Rock,” Ethan told her. “That’s why the distributors booked a suite here. They usually recommend afterparties. Plus the Hard Rock has an edgier vibe, so the AVAs don’t seem so out of place here. But there was a conflict with bookings, so this year it’s at the MGM.” He made a face when he named the other hotel like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“I take it the MGM isn’t as popular with you?”
“Meh, it’s not that, it’s just we got used to it being here, you know? Feels like coming to summer camp every year, where you know the layout, the bars, you know where everything is.”
“How many of these have you been to?”
“Six.”
“How old were you when you started?”
“Are you trying to figure out how old I am in a really unsubtle way?”
Sam blushed. “It wasn’t the goal, but it might be nice to know if I’m cradle robbing. Or if my cradle is being robbed.”
“How old do you think I am?”
She hoped this wouldn’t be like the time she’d incorrectly guessed a patron was “in her thirties” when the woman was still clinging to her late twenties. Sam had learned to simply never offer speculation out loud ever again. The same terror of embarrassment was what kept her from asking even the most obviously pregnant women when they were due.
“Well, you would have had to be at least eighteen when you started. Six years would put you at twenty-four if you started then. Except you said you went to Stanford for three years.”
“Look at you, my little Sherlock Hol
mes.”
Sam gave him a scolding look for interrupting her as they left the hotel to wait for Ethan’s limo.
“So say you graduated at eighteen. Three years in school, plus six in the business? I figure you for about twenty-seven.”
He gave her a slow clap while the driver got out of the limo and came around to open the door for them. “Your logic is solid, no argument. You were close. I’m twenty-eight. You didn’t factor in my year abroad after high school.” He grinned, letting her get into the car first.
“Sneaky.”
“I get around.”
“I bet.”
Ethan got into the car with her. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“Only every time you think I’m getting weirded out by this whole thing. So, yeah. You’ve mentioned it about a dozen times so far.” With him sitting beside her, their thighs touching, she could feel the warmth of his body through the thin jersey material of her dress. He was wearing black trousers and a silver-gray shirt that managed to make his eyes even bluer. When she’d first gotten a look at him in the lobby, her breath had gotten stuck in her throat, and she wondered how it was possible for a man to be so casual yet so impossibly hot.
He hadn’t done anything to keep his curly hair in check, so it was just as soft and unruly as before. Apparently the notion of shaving hadn’t occurred to him. His jaw remained peppered with stubble, giving him a roguish appearance.
He looked like a bad boy.
“You’re staring at me,” he observed.
“Am I? I can’t help it. You look so pretty.”
He snorted, clearly thinking she was teasing him because of his compliment, so Sam set her hand on his thigh and leaned in close.
“You smell good too,” she told him.
Okay, admittedly she was a bit nervous about being around those girls, and pretending otherwise couldn’t make the knot in her stomach disappear. But maybe there was a way to ensure Ethan would be thinking about her and only her for the duration of the night.
She inched her hand higher so her fingers were brushing his groin. Even through his pants, the size of his cock was intimidating, and it wasn’t hard yet.
“You smell good yourself,” he replied, as if her hand wasn’t on his crotch. The naughty glimmer in his eye was a dead giveaway that he knew what she was up to. Without fumbling to find the button, he raised the glass partition between them and the driver.
Sam’s pulse doubled. What was she doing? It was one thing to fool around with a guy in the privacy of a hotel room, but fooling around in the back of a limo? This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her.
Maybe that’s why she liked it so much.
She’d spent most of her life under the scrutiny of her entire town and didn’t dare step out of line for what it would mean to her reputation and her family. But her parents were both dead now, her brother had moved away, and she was relatively well-respected in the community. It was time to loosen up a bit and do something just for her. Something she would enjoy without worrying what anyone else might think of her.
And in that moment, however out of character it might be, she wanted to give Ethan back some of what he’d done for her the night before.
If that meant he wouldn’t have eyes for any other woman for the rest of the night, all the better.
Sam slid off the leather seat, hiking her skirt a little higher around her hips as she nestled between his knees. Her hand never strayed from his inner thigh, fingers gliding up and down his clothed package, and with each pass his erection grew firmer until his rigid length strained against the flimsy barrier of his pants.
“You sure?” he asked, his hooded eyes already beginning to glaze over.
“Mmmhmm.”
Before she had a chance to continue, he undid his belt and lowered the zipper on his pants, his erection spilling forward like it was eager to greet her.
Sam stared up at him, trying her best to portray a teasing expression, even as she wrapped her hands around the base of his cock.
“Don’t you ever wear underwear?” She stroked him in a slow, steady rhythm until he closed his eyes and let his head loll back on the seat.
“Not if I don’t have to. I don’t see much of a point in it.”
Who was she to argue? If she could have gotten away with never wearing a bra, she probably would have. She couldn’t begrudge him if he didn’t like underpants. Besides, she liked having one fewer layer between him being clothed and naked. He was always just a pants drop away from having his dick out. It must have been helpful professionally. It was definitely useful now.
Sam lightly brushed her lips over the tip of his cock, reveling in the hitch of his breath and the way his hips shifted a bit lower on the seat. When she went down again, she took the whole head in, filling her mouth as deeply as she comfortably could and letting her hands do the rest.
With each flick of her tongue and the growing wetness of her mouth, she could feel Ethan growing harder, until it was difficult for her to contain him using both hands and her mouth. She continued to work him, sucking with an urgency that hollowed her cheeks and made him grit out almost incomprehensible motivators.
“Good girl,” he told her, burying his fingers in her hair and following the gentle bobbing motion of her head with his hand. He never held her in place, but when he particularly liked what she was doing, his fingers tensed up, and she would keep at it until they relaxed.
From those simple responses, she felt empowered. With each groan and buck of his pelvis, she grew more and more confident, believing she was returning the pleasure he had provided to her.
“Oh…” His fingers tightened, fisting in her hair as she released one hand and took him farther into her mouth than she’d dared believe possible. The tip of his cock bumped the back of her throat, making her shut her eyes lest they water. She held him there, breathing evenly through her nose until her throat relaxed, then took him in a half inch more. “Jesus,” he hissed. “Sam.”
Hearing her name on his lips, the hurried, hot way he said it, brought Sam’s arousal up a few notches, and she got wetter without him having touched her anywhere but her hair.
Once she was sure she could comfortably take him that deep, she withdrew until he was almost the whole way out then lowered her head again, languishing over the smooth, hot skin, wet with her saliva. The slower she went, the harder he tugged her hair, so she went as slow as she thought he could handle without getting angry. When her lips kissed the circled fingers of his hand, she rolled her tongue over the head of his cock.
“Fuck,” he growled, arching his hips to get whatever extra depth he could. “I’m gonna come.”
It was the only warning she got, that and the tension of his thighs before his seed spilled out over the back of her tongue. On instinct she swallowed, surprised by the suddenness of his ejaculation, but not finding it uncomfortable the way she’d imagined she would.
In the past she’d always requested lovers not finish inside her mouth, but rather on her breasts, finding the whole thing more dignified, but Ethan hadn’t given her the choice.
It might have bothered her in a different situation, but things with Ethan felt different. Swallowing his seed made their connection deeper, more intimate. Sam liked knowing this new taste of him. She took it all, and when he was done, she sat back and licked him clean before straightening into a kneeling position, smiling at him like a cat who’d just polished off a bowl of cream. He ran his thumb over the corner of her mouth, returning her smile with a wicked grin of his own before he tucked himself into his pants. As she was about to move into her seat, he leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn’t a peck, but rather a deep, toe-curling kiss with tongue and teeth and a dirty hunger that made her wish they were returning to the hotel, not leaving it. The kiss alone was enough to remind her of all the nasty, wonderful things Ethan could do with his mouth.
She was looking forward to seeing what the rest of him was capable of.
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Chapter Twelve
Ethan should have given Sam more warning about the AVAs.
He’d told her the women would be barely dressed, but he’d played things down a bit in the hopes she’d agree to come. Now that she was there with him, every few inches farther they got along the red carpet, her eyes grew a little wider.
When the first person to approach him on the press gauntlet line was Cami Flogs—an aging former starlet who still made a few MILF flicks every year—he knew there was a chance Sam was going to keel over. Cami was wearing an open-front purple dress, and the only thing covering her drooping breasts was a pair of glittery purple star-shaped pasties.
“Ethaaaaan,” she cooed, wrapping him in a tight hug. “How are you, lovey?”
One of Ethan’s first major roles had been opposite Cami. Her popularity had helped garner him a lot of attention, and she’d been amazing to work with. She was the mother-hen type on set, making sure everyone—especially the younger stars—felt comfortable and welcome.
Personality wasn’t what he figured Sam would see when Cami’s giant tits were flopping around. That was the main problem with the girls he spent his days with. It was literally their job to be objectified, but underneath the plastic surgery and makeup, they were the biggest, sweetest pack of friends he had.
He’d compare them to sisters, but that would creep him out too much. He did have to fuck them, after all.
It was more like having a pack of friends with benefits. Women he enjoyed sleeping with but wouldn’t seriously consider dating. Coworkers with benefits? Did that apply when the benefits were really the job?
Well, all good jobs came with benefits.
Ethan kissed Cami on each cheek, her body glitter leaving a fine sheen over the front of his shirt.
“Cami, this is Sam.”
To her credit, Sam didn’t look the least bit wide-eyed or shocked by Cami’s appearance. She shook the older woman’s hand and submitted to a big squeeze that smushed Cami’s bosom against Sam’s.
As they moved down the red carpet, Ethan stopped periodically to pause for cameramen, posing with his more popular costars. For the most part Sam stuck by his side, but when someone would call for him to stand with another girl, she would release his hand and step out of frame without being asked.
