Hollywood Bad Boys Club
Book 3: Marcus
Alexis Adaire
Twisted Pair Publishing
Contents
1. Marcus
2. Rashida
3. Marcus
4. Rashida
5. Marcus
6. Rashida
7. Marcus
8. Rashida
9. Marcus
10. Rashida
11. Marcus
12. Rashida
13. Marcus
14. Rashida
15. Marcus
16. Rashida
17. Marcus
18. Rashida
19. Marcus
20. Rashida
21. Marcus
22. Rashida
23. Marcus
24. Rashida
25. Marcus
26. Rashida
27. Marcus
28. Rashida
29. Marcus
30. Rashida
31. Marcus
More in this series
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“Sleeping With the Enemy” - Free Sample
Also by Alexis Adaire
About the Author
Copyright
1
Marcus
The ball hangs in mid-air for what feels like an eternity.
Twenty thousand people watch with me, the seams rotating slowly as the ball nears the top of its arc.
Of course, to them it’s all occurring much faster, in the blink of an eye. I alone have a slow-motion view of plays as they develop. I’ve always had this, as far back as when I was just a middle schooler no taller than five-six.
The game just seems to slow down for me.
It doesn’t happen all the time, but it kicks in whenever the situation gets tense. In the last few minutes of a close game, I can see on the faces of the other players that they’re struggling to take it all in. Not just the opponents, but my own teammates as well. I have no such problem. It’s like everything slows to half speed and I have all the time in the world to plan my next move.
Let’s go back seven seconds to properly set the stage…
I’ve just finished rebounding a missed shot at the other end. Aware my Lakers are trailing the Milwaukee Bucks by two with only five seconds left on the clock as I cross mid-court, I spot Demarius Crawford, our shooting guard, calling for the ball at the three-point line with nobody anywhere near him. Demarius is known as a lights-out shot from that distance, averaging nearly forty-five percent of his three-point shots this year.
I fake a pass and one of the three Bucks guarding me bites. There’s no way I’m passing it to Demarius, though. Reputations are made on last-minute shots, as are large contracts. I take a step across the three-point line as if I’m going to drive to the basket, and the defender has no choice but to cover that possibility. Consequently, he’s out of position when I step back and raise up as I see “0:8” on the shot clock. I hear thousands of fans groan when I don’t pass to my wide-open teammate. The last remaining defender leaps with me, his hand extended, but I know this thirty-four-year-old journeyman is not going to out-jump a young guy like me. The ball leaves my fingertips to begin its slow-motion flight to the basket.
As it reaches the apex of its arc, I hear the buzzer go off and see the red lights come on around the perimeter of the backboard. The game will be over in half a second, one way or another.
This is my moment.
I’m Marcus Jennings, star small forward for the legendary Los Angeles Lakers, and I live for this shit.
As soon as the ball swishes through the net, everything jumps back to regular speed. The crowd, starving for a win even against the lowly Bucks, goes absolutely apeshit. Half of my teammates run to congratulate me, and out of the corner of my eye I see Demarius shaking his head as he walks off the court. Coach Madden is giving me the stink-eye as well, even though the few wins I’ve managed to pull out for him might let him keep his job another year. This Lakers team is divided between the people who appreciate what I do, and those who think I try to do too much.
But fuck that last group. Marcus Jennings is not here to make friends or keep people happy. I’m here to do what I do best: score points and win games. My father, a man I look up to in every way, once told me, “You got to look out for yourself, Marcus, ‘cause ain’t nobody else gonna do it for you.” So yeah, fuck anyone who tries to tell me how to play.
The local broadcast team gives me the standard three-question post-game interview. It goes well, because it’s rare that they have something to ask other than, “How does the team finally put an end to this losing streak?” They ask their perfunctory questions and I give the standard clichéd answers.
When the interview concludes, I jog through the tunnel toward the locker room. The crowd has thinned considerably, but there are always a few dozen people in the stands near the tunnel hoping for autographs. If I look at them, I’ll feel compelled to stop, and if I stop I’ll be here forever, so I just smile and run on by. As I pass, I hear one of them say, “You’re a dick, Jennings.”
I enter the locker room and see a look from Coach that warns I’ll get another little lecture about team play before our next game, two nights from now in New Orleans. And of course, Demarius is going to want to have his say in the locker room. He’s already showered and sees me coming.
“Marcus, man, what the fuck was that all about? There was nobody close to me.”
“What’re you talking about? I made the shot. We won. Ain’t nothing else to worry about.”
His glare tells me he’s not convinced. “Don’t keep pulling that shit. If someone’s got a better shot, get him the ball. Especially if he’s wide open.”
I hit him where it hurts. “Doesn’t matter who’s wide open, nobody on this team’s got a better chance at getting points than me.”
Demarius starts to respond, then decides he’s done with me. He shakes his head derisively, then walks away. Good. I’m tired and I want to shower and get some pussy before I go home.
I see them when I drive out of the Staples Center underground parking entrance. A dozen or more women are still milling around an hour after the game ended. I’m not the last player out of the locker room, so who knows if they’re waiting for me—but seriously, who else would it be? I’m the only star on the team.
I pull my Lambo through the gates and stop, rolling down the window.
“Who needs a ride?”
No need for subtlety, since most of these groupies are here for one reason only.
“I do, baby.” I hear one voice above all the others, a hot blonde with long straight hair wearing a Marcus Jennings jersey, which has been modified with a slit down the middle to show off her substantial cleavage. I take a quick look around at the others who also might want to come with me, ignoring the autograph and selfie requests from the few kids and professional autograph collectors.
“Get in,” I tell the blonde. As she goes around the car, I spot a very sexy brunette in a short black dress, giving me a pouty look. She reminds me of Lexi Snow, the singer, who I’ve dreamed of fucking since I saw her first video a few years back. Lexi is my age, but was already a famous pop star while I was still a senior in high school. Banging her lookalike will be the next best thing, so I can’t possibly pass this up.
“What’s up with you?” I ask her.
“Looks like I missed my big chance,” she says, and I know she’s good to go.
“Not if you’re okay with sharing,” I say, and her mood instantly brightens. “Come on, then.”
I turn to the blonde, who’s just sliding her tight jeans onto the passenger seat. Her sexy smile dims a little when
I say, “Honey, you’re going to have to make some room.” The brunette appears in the open door and waits while the blonde scoots over as far as she can. The Lamborghini Aventador isn’t known for its spacious interior, but somehow the two women squeeze into the passenger seat together. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. They may be throwing eye-daggers at each other now, but they’ll cooperate when we’re all naked. If not, out they go.
As soon as we’re moving, before I even ask their names, I call ahead to the Sunset Grand and ask for my boy Donnie, telling him I need my usual. He’ll be ready with the key to the suite when we arrive. No muss, no fuss.
“I hope you two are up for some fun,” I say. “What’s y’all’s names?”
The blonde is Deidre and the brunette is Carmen. I can’t decide whether to look at Carmen’s sexy legs or Deidre’s ample tits, so I concentrate on the road. The tension between them is palpable all the way from downtown to Hollywood, but I do my best to keep things light.
“Where are you taking us?” Carmen asks.
“To bed.”
Deidre wants clarification. “Both of us?”
“Of course.”
“We going to your house?”
“Nope.”
The women jostle for position in the small seat until I finally turn off Sunset and circle behind the hotel to the service entrance. Donnie is waiting for me and opens the passenger scissor door, swinging it upward and forward. “Good evening, ladies. Welcome to the Sunset Grand.” I hand him my keys and a fresh hundred-dollar bill and he gives me a key card in return.
The Sunset Grand is owned by Darren Weatherford, the real estate billionaire who bought the Lakers a few years back. Anytime I want a suite to use for, um… entertaining, I just call and they set it up for me within minutes. It’s one of the perks of being the best player on Darren’s team. Sometimes, I’m only in there for an hour or so, and other times I’ll spend the night there with some chick. The hotel staff is very discreet and nothing’s every leaked out to TMZ.
We slip completely unnoticed into the service elevator, and on the way up I wrap my arms around both girls and pull them tightly to my sides. Deidre hugs me by my waist and accidentally pokes Carmen in the ribs in the process. Carmen reacts by swatting Deidre’s arm away.
“Calm down,” I tell Carmen. “We all need to get along to make this work.” She gives me an insolent look, and I make a mental note to punish her. The doors open and the three of us stroll down to room 1313, where I hold the door open for Deidre to pass. When Carmen tries to enter, I stop her and walk through the door myself.
“You need to undress in the hall,” I say. “When you’re naked, you can come in.” I then shut the door and turn to Deidre. “Take off your clothes for me, baby.”
Deidre begins to strip in the living area of the suite. As the jersey comes off, I see a lacy pink bra holding up a pair of very large tits. A knock on the door interrupts my visual pleasure. I crack the door open to see Carmen standing in the hall, her dress folded neatly over her arm, wearing only bra and panties, spike heels, and a nervous look.
“Uh-uh. Underwear, too.”
I shut the door and turn around in time to see Deidre slipping off her tight jeans. She’s already barefoot. Her legs are long and luscious.
Another knock on the door. I peek out and see Carmen is now naked except for her heels.
“Marcus, somebody’s coming!”
“Shoes, too.” I slam the door in her face.
Deidre is in panties and bra, and she’s already unfastening the bra. Although I like big tits, the two I see before me are almost too big.
Carmen knocks again and through the door I hear her plead, “Let me in!” Deidre laughs out loud and I open the door to find Carmen now totally naked as two men walk by smiling. One recognizes me, but I ignore him.
“What’s the password?” I ask.
“Marcus, please!” Carmen begs, and I finally relent and let her in. Deidre has slipped off her panties and is laughing at Carmen’s plight.
“You think that was funny?” I ask.
She giggles and nods.
“Just for that, you’ll be punished, too.”
I take Carmen in my arms and kiss her hard. She’s so damn short that I have to bend over to do it, but she kisses like she’s been horny for hours. I play with her medium-sizes tits, gently tweaking her nipples, and feel my cock twitch as it begins to stiffen. As I’m doing this, I keep an eye on Deidre, who waits impatiently for her turn.
I release Carmen and take her by the hand into the bedroom, motioning for Deidre to follow. I lead Carmen to the side of the bed and say, “Climb up and spread those sexy legs for me.”
She does as told, opening herself wide for me to see. Her bare pussy glistens between her lips. I turn to Deidre.
“Eat that pussy for me.”
Both of their eyes open wide. Carmen closes her legs, but I put a hand between her knees. “You ever been with a woman?” She nods, and when I nudge her legs open again, she relents and lies back.
I turn to Deidre. “And you, have you ever gone down on a woman?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not gay,” she says.
“That doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “Tonight, I want to watch you eat some pussy. Or if you prefer, you can get dressed and leave Carmen and me to our business.”
I unbutton my shirt and take it off as Deidre stares at me, trying to ascertain whether I mean it.
“Are you serious?” she asks.
I’m very serious. The only thing I like better than watching a woman eat pussy is watching one do it for the first time.
“You want my dick, you eat pussy first. That’s my rule.”
I sit to take off my shoes and socks and watch as Deidre sighs, then approaches the bed. The two women look at each other for a second and I see Carmen smirk, then Deidre’s head moves down between her legs. I stand to get a better view, watching as Deidre tentatively begins licking Carmen’s lips.
“Nah, do it like you mean it,” I say.
Before long Deidre’s mouth is all over Carmen’s pussy. I can’t tell if she’s really into it or just faking it, but it looks like genuine desire and that’s all that matters. I slip my pants off and let them fall to the floor.
Carmen looks over at my boxer briefs and smiles. Her breathing is deeper and more rapid now, so Deidre must be doing something right. I slide my underwear down and watch as Carmen’s eyes open wide. Her hand reaches for my cock, and I climb on the bed so she can wrap her fingers around it.
“Oh, my god.” It’s Deidre, looking up from between Carmen’s legs at the fingers wrapped around my half-hard cock. She’s mesmerized.
I guess I should mention that I have a very large cock. Not the biggest, mind you, but still something to be proud of. Most women don’t realize it, but just about all tall guys have big dicks. Even tall white guys. Biggest dick I’ve ever seen was on a seven-three white dude from Lithuania. In locker rooms full of tall guys, I’ve seen more long cocks than most women see in a lifetime. I’m six-eight and because there’s not an ounce of fat on my ebony body, my ten-inch cock looks even bigger when it’s hard, as it’s rapidly becoming now.
Deidre starts to climb up and I quickly say, “No, you’re doing great. You stay down there until you make Carmen come.”
She looks at me defiantly, then takes another look at my cock before lowering her head to Carmen’s pussy. I move up near Carmen’s head and she pulls my cock to her mouth, licking the head and shaft. I don’t know which of them to watch, so I take turns. As my cock starts slowly going deeper between Carmen’s stretched lips, Deidre looks up and starts furiously licking the clit in front of her. Carmen begins to moan as she continues to work on me.
I’m fascinated now by Deidre’s enthusiasm. Carmen’s moans grow louder and I see her slim little body begin to writhe. She suddenly pulls her mouth off my cock and groans as she comes hard, grabbing Deidre’s head and pulling it tightly to her as she grinds her pussy
against the blonde’s mouth.
Maybe they’re both putting on a show, but It sure looks like I’m witnessing a legitimate strong orgasm. When Carmen finally pushes her head away, Deidre quickly climbs to me and boldly locks me up in a long, hot kiss. I can taste Carmen’s sweet pussy, then Deidre breaks the kiss and says, “I want your cock in me, Marcus. Now.”
I grab a condom from my pants pocket and quickly roll it on as Deidre lies on the bed next to Carmen, who’s still recovering from her orgasm. Diedre spreads her legs and I get between them, slickening my cock on her juicy pussy before entering her. She moans loudly and grabs my neck with her hand, arching her back off the bed as I push into her. We fuck for a while, with Carmen lying on her side watching us from a couple of feet away. Eventually I tire—no surprise, considering I’ve just played forty-two minutes of NBA basketball.
“Don’t come in her,” Carmen says as she watches my cock penetrate Deidre over and over. I’m not sure why she would make such a strange request until she adds, “I want you to come in my mouth.”
Well, that changes everything. I pull out of Deidre and rip the condom off, then kneel in front of Carmen. She takes me in her mouth and proceeds to give me a terrific blowjob. She’s passionate and skilled, a perfect combination, and manages to get more of me in her mouth than most women can, with my head bumping the back of her throat. It doesn’t take long before I’m about to pop.
“I’m gonna come,” I moan.
Carmen pulls her mouth off, then opens wide and starts stroking me. My rock-hard cock is aimed right at her tongue and I immediately feel the tension building. With a loud grunt, I explode into her open mouth, stream after stream landing on her tongue. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and my intense orgasm goes on for a blissful few seconds until I’m finally drained.
Carmen looks up at me with a mouthful of cum, then closes her lips and smiles.
“Don’t swallow that!” I say. Carmen’s eyebrows furrow, her mouth still shut. “Deidre, come kiss Carmen.”
Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 3: Marcus Page 1
