by Amy Brent
I was thankful that no more outfit changes were needed because I had definitely spilled into the panties I was wearing. I walked off set and was given a few of the articles of clothing. I thanked the designer for letting me keep them. That was one of the perks that came with photoshoots that I absolutely loved, but the best part was when some of the artists were willing to hand over their hair and makeup products as well.
I didn’t have any this time, but the clothes were phenomenal, and I felt satisfied for the day.
But then, it hit me. What time did Lacey get out of school?
“Thomas!” I called out.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“When are you supposed to get Lacey from school?”
“Not a problem. My parents picked her up at three-thirty. They knew I’d be gone until eight.”
“No, no,” I said. “You go home. I’ll still pay you until eight. It’s your daughter’s first day at school, and she’s probably wanting to tell you all about it.”
“Are you sure? Because my parents are with her until eight.”
“I’m sure,” I said while we started for the car. “And I’ll still pay you until eight. Go be with your daughter.”
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
We pulled up in front of my house, and Thomas was kind enough to see me in before he headed out. I stood inside the doorway, watching that tight ass of his all the way to his car. He looked back and waved before he finally left. It felt nice to do something good for him, especially with all he was doing for me, keeping me safe and whatnot. But my pussy was still throbbing from getting an eyeful of that cock he had in his pants, and I was thankful for the alone time.
I waved my driver off before turning toward my stairs, and I took them two by two to get up to my room. I wanted to shower and get all this powder and shit off my body, but what I was really gunning for was that removable showerhead.
I started the shower and got it running as hot as I could stand it before I ripped all my clothes off. I walked out and tossed them on my bed before I sank to my knees, and I pulled a small tote out from underneath my bed and unlatched the hinges. I kept all my fun toys in this little leather case, dildos, butt plugs, and blindfolds. I had to really keep a lid on my sex life, which meant I had to be very picky on who I slept with, and that meant I was usually giving myself most of my orgasms.
I couldn’t risk someone leaking shit to the media and having my freak ways plastered all over the screen, so I indulged in the finest toys the country had to offer in order to get my rocks off.
I pulled out a glittery purple dildo that had veins running over it like a real dick. It was thick and juicy, just like the cock I knew Thomas had in those slacks of his. I took it to the shower and stepped in with it. The water flowed over my painfully puckered nipples while I lathered my body in suds, and as the foundation-tinted water swirled down the drain, Thomas’s lips came to mind.
I thought about him placing sloppy wet kisses all along the crook of my neck while I ripped that suit coat of his off. I bet he liked to nip and leave marks on the women he slept with, and I shivered at the thought of him sucking my nipples until they turned red with anger. I tweaked my nipples and pulled at them while the hot water peppered my skin in its red trails. My thighs squeezed together when the wetness of the water mingled with the wetness of my pussy.
I thought about those thick, meaty arms picking me up like a ragdoll and shoving me into the wall. I bet that thick cock would gravitate toward my tight pussy like a horse to water, and suddenly, I saw him diving between my legs.
“Shit,” I said breathlessly.
I reached up and plucked the showerhead from its holster and changed it until just a thin stream of water was shooting from its center. I laid myself down onto my massive shower floor, grabbed the glittering purple dildo, and slipped it easily into my center. I closed my eyes and slid it in, inch by inch, groaning at the idea of Thomas sliding his raging cock deep into my body. I felt my pussy clench around it, and I envisioned how his face would scrunch up in pleasure. I bet that shiny forehead of his would wrinkle while he furrowed his brow and grunted with every centimeter that dove into my hot depths.
“Shit, Thomas,” I said. “You’re so big for me.”
I spread my legs wide and let the stream of water slowly glaze over my folds. I imagined his piercing blue eyes begging me to look at him while he took me everywhere he wanted. I saw us against the wall and on the bed, in my agent’s office and in the back of my car. I saw him leaning me over the kitchen table and pulling his dick between his zipper because he couldn’t resist how mussed I looked in the morning, and I shook when my swollen clit finally emerged from underneath its hood and sought out the thick stream of water.
“Oh, fuck. Thomas.”
My body undulated into the water while my free hand gravitated toward my ass. I saw him teasing that massive cock against my asshole, threatening to tear it apart while I begged for mercy. I popped my finger through the tight constraints of my little hole, just as the water found the tip of my clit, and all at once, my body began to quiver. I shook at the idea of Thomas filling both of my holes with his dick and my toys, his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming out in the broom closet of my newest movie set.
This man was fucking me up, and when my orgasm finally barreled across my body, I shot that dildo out from between my legs and felt my juices flowing out onto the shower floor.
“Thomas! Shit! Yes. Just like that. Oh, fuck that asshole. Come on. Give it to me good.”
My body collapsed into a puddle while the showerhead fell from between my fingers. I laid there, staring up at the clouds of steam with my jaw unhinged. I’d never had a world-shattering orgasm like that while I masturbated before, and I blamed it on the eye candy I now had to stand around every single day until my life could get back on track.
Maybe then, I could experience what kind of orgasm his own cock could give me.
But right now, all I had to go on was my memories, my fantasies, and that bulge behind his pants.
Chapter 6
Thomas
I was sitting in Bridget’s kitchen, waiting for her to get up. She’d finally given me a key to her house, and we’d worked out a schedule where I could still drop off and pick up Lacey from school, and it showed me a lot about her personality. It meant she gave a shit about the life I had outside of my job, and not many high-profile clients cared about that kind of thing. Even my parents were impressed, which was a feat, in and of itself. They were protective of me and my daughter, ever since her mother pulled all the bullshit she did, and my mother was worried when she figured out who I was guarding.
I sat there sipping a cup of coffee as I heard a crash on the floor. I hopped up and pulled my gun from my holster and started running up the stairs. I cleared the corners, making my way to her room. All sorts of thoughts started running through my mind: someone had followed me in, or someone had come through her window. She’d brought someone home from somewhere, and they were trying to take advantage of her, or maybe she had been poisoned.
I didn’t know what the hell this young woman had gotten herself into, but sometimes, her nerves would get the best of her, and it would make me nervous by proxy.
I slowly crept toward her bedroom door with my gun trained in front of me. I paused to see if I could hear more sounds coming from the room before I reached out for the doorknob. I twisted it and threw the door open, scanning the room for the intruder or the broken glass from her window, but all I found was Bridget, slowly pulling herself from the floor.
“Good god, do you knock?” she asked.
“Bridget.” I rushed to her side and helped her to her feet, and then I had to help her untangle herself from her comforter.
“Rough night?” I asked.
“Bad dreams. The hell you doing, barging into my room like that?”
She was fully uncensored, and I heard a bit of an accent charge through. It was amusing how unfilte
red she was right now, but I was also relieved that she was all right.
“I heard you hit the floor, and I came running,” I said. “Wasn’t sure what was going on.”
“Well, lucky me for my knight in shining armor.”
“Not the happiest without coffee, I see.”
“I can smell it,” she said. “Did you make some? Can I have some?”
“Of course, it’s your house,” I said with a grin. “Come on. Let’s get you downstairs, and I’ll make you a cup.”
The two of us made our way down the hallway and to the stairs, and it gave me a chance to study her. She had on no makeup, no airbrushing techniques, and no fancy clothes. Her pajamas were merely baggy plaid pants and a large shirt, and somehow, she still seemed sexy as hell. Her hair was mussed and tangled, and her face had a red tint of frustration to it, and as I helped her down the stairs, I could feel the exhaustion still aching in her bones.
“Really rough night?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
I knew there was something she was holding back. Between her nervous ticks that set my nerves aflame and this nightmare that seemed to rob her of her sleep, something was haunting her memories, and she was obviously scared. As she slowly began to wake up, I watched her eyes dart around the room a bit more, and I mindlessly slipped my arm around her waist to help her into the kitchen.
“Whatever’s going on, don’t be so scared,” I said. “I’m here, and you’re fine.”
She flopped down into the kitchen chair, and I started making her a cup of coffee. I looked over at her every now and again, and she’d put her head in her hands. A few times, her head jerked, like she had fallen asleep at the table. Whatever she was hiding, I was going to figure it out. It was obviously plaguing her to a point where she felt she needed me, and if I could do my job and rid her of the anxiety, she could go back to living her life free of the fear she was experiencing.
There was something inside of me that desperately wanted to give that to her.
I topped off my mug of coffee before I brought the two mugs over to the table. I set one down underneath her nose, and she jerked up again, her eyes red with sleeplessness and her nose puffy with agitation.
“You know, you’re probably one of the only women in Hollywood who doesn’t need all those makeup techniques,” I said. It simply slipped out, like a passing comment in a conversation you’d have with an old friend, and a part of me locked up and was waiting for her to fire me on the spot.
But instead, all she did was grab ahold of her mug and lift her gaze to meet mine.
“You’re an idiot,” she said. “I look like hell.”
“Hardly. You look like you had a rough night, but that doesn’t mean you don’t look good.”
“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
I could tell she didn’t believe me, but that wasn’t the point. The point was how easy it was to tell her something like that when I was technically under her employment. I knew I was toeing a very serious line between a business relationship and a harassing one, so I clamped my mouth shut and just drank my coffee alongside her at the table.
“You’re not too bad looking yourself,” she said.
“So bald is your type? I mean, considering that I got a haircut recently.” I asked.
“My type is the kind that—”
She halted her phrase just before she shot me a cheeky look, and every single part of me tingled with anticipation. I knew I wanted her to finish that sentence, to know what kind of type she actually had in men. I bet it had nothing to do with looks for her. I bet it had everything to do with how they could wield her body in bed. How many orgasms they could crash over her body before she locked up and passed out.
I wondered if any man had made her orgasm so hard and so much that she did pass out.
“Anyway,” she said. “I’ve got some errands to run today, so it won’t be a nice day at the house.”
“Not a problem, where are we headed?” I asked.
“I need groceries, then I need to pick up an extra tip for my driver to give to him. I ran out of checks, so I’m giving him cash until I can get some more in the mail. Then, I have a friend of mine who’s opening her first independent store, showcasing her own fashion designs, and I want to stop by and show my support.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “When do you want to head out?”
“Whenever I can down enough coffee to raise this fog from my mind.”
We sat there and drained the entire pot of coffee before her accent slowly faded, and she slipped into the Bridget Meyers everyone knew and loved. I was a bit disappointed to lose the unfiltered woman I’d helped off the floor this morning, but I understood why she did what she did. Show business was two parts acting and one part hiding, but I got the strange feeling that ratio was flipped for Bridget.
I got the feeling she did more hiding than she did acting.
“Well, I’m gonna go get dressed,” she said with a sigh. “If I’m not done in an hour, come bang down my door.”
“Got it.”
I watched her walk away and couldn’t help but try to get a glimpse of those luscious curves underneath all those clothes. Her pajamas were a stark contrast from the booty shorts and tank top I’d met her in, but she seemed just as comfortable and beautiful as the day I’d first walked into her home. She rounded the staircase and started up the stairs, so I decided to put the mugs in the sink and take up residence at her front door.
There was nothing quite as intimidating as a man of my size standing on a stoop with a shining gun reflecting the sun in someone’s eyes.
I stood there for about forty-five minutes when she finally emerged. She was in this beautiful yellow and blue dress, with matching heels and a brimmed hat, and I couldn’t take my eyes off those legs. Her heels flexed her calves perfectly, and all I could think about was commanding her to keep them on while she dug those heels into my back. Her dress was one of those dresses you didn’t even wait to take off. You just shoved it up and moved the panties to the side before you thrusted deep into the warmth of the woman in your arms.
“You coming?” she asked.
I took a deep breath, started for the car, and slid in right after her. We ran the errands just like she wanted, except there was always a catch to each of them. We didn’t actually go grocery shopping. All we did was sit in the car while she ordered the groceries online. I didn’t even think you could do something like that, but when the grocery store baggers came out with carts of food and started placing them in the trunk of the car, all I could do was laugh.
“The perks of being beautiful and famous,” she said with a wink.
“This shouldn’t be a perk for just you guys. You know how many times I’ve dragged Lacey kicking and screaming through a store? I’ve had moments where I would’ve tipped someone 400 bucks just to do the damn job for me.”
“I’ll put in a good word for you,” she said.
After that, we headed to the bank where her driver pulled her up to the ATM machine. She leaned over my body to do everything, and it took all the restraint I had not to touch her. Her tits were pressed against my chest and her knee was sitting in between my legs, and I had to physically sit on my hands to keep from running them up and down that smooth rounded ass of hers. Her legs were glowing in the sunlight that streamed through the open window while she snagged the money for her driver, and I could’ve sworn he gave me a look in the rearview mirror just before Bridget sat back down.
“Here, Bernie,” she said. “For the paparazzi evasion earlier.”
“You don’t have to do that, Bridge,” she said.
“Bridge?” I asked.
“No one calls me that but him,” she said with a frown.
“Take it, Bernie. I’m serious. Thank you for that beautiful work a few days ago.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he said.
“Cut the crap and thank me, Bernie,” she said.
“Thank you, Bridge,” he said with a smile.
“All right, now it’s just the stop at my friend’s new place and then you’ll be good to go home if you’d like,” she said. I had to pull my suit coat out from underneath my ass and tuck it around my waist. My cock was shamefully straining against my pants because of that tight little body she’d just pressed against me, and I knew I was already treading a thin line with keeping my job and her falsely calling sexual assault.
And trust me, it happened more often than any of us like to admit.
We ran by her friend’s store, and it was actually kind of nice. It was very small, which was probably normal for someone just starting out, but the way Bridget ran to her and hugged her tight told me they were close friends. I stood at the back of the store so I could survey the entire area, and I watched them talk and catch up. Sparkling designs and pants with missing chunks of fabric were hanging from the walls, and everyone who came into the store always seemed to leave with something.
I guessed that was a good sign for a store that had just opened.
