by Tara West
Then Brad did something remarkable. He laid down and lifted his arms over his head, tapping the metal railing with the tips of his fingers. “I’m ready,” he said and shut his eyes.
I inwardly smiled, my chest filling with so much warmth, I felt like a helium balloon about to pop. I reached into the side drawer and took out my silk rope, gently tying his wrists to the bedframe. After securing the blindfold, I eagerly stripped out of my clothes and then unbuttoned his shirt, scraping my teeth across his nipples before trailing kisses down to his naval. He moaned his delight, the erect flagpole beneath his pants straining toward my mouth.
I unzipped his pants, and he arched his back while I pulled them off. After stripping off his underwear, his cock jutted up like a torpedo ready to fire, its length reaching the bottom of his naval. We’d been dating a month, and I still hadn’t gotten used to his size.
I eagerly wrapped my lips around him, sucking him halfway down and trying to relax my throat muscles so I could accommodate more. My lips slid up and down his rod while his swollen appendage practically hummed beneath my tongue. I suckled him until I could feel him ready to burst, and then I slid off, biting his hip when he moaned, thrusting into the air.
I straddled him, kissing him tenderly before playfully biting his lip.
“Bad girl,” he teased.
“Oh, you haven’t seen bad yet,” I whispered in his ear. I slid down his cock, hissing as he stretched and filled me. I let out a shaky breath when I was seated fully on top of him.
He lay perfectly still beneath me, beads of sweat pooling on his brow, and I knew it was taking all his willpower not to come. I balanced on his shoulders, tossing back my head with a groan while grinding my hips into his pelvis.
Oh, fuck, he was so damn big.
“Ariana,” he cried.
“Come in me, baby,” I answered. I thrust against him a few more times and then stilled when he expanded and exploded, thumping against my G-spot like a sub-woofer. His climax triggered my own, and I cried out when the orgasm crashed through me like flood waters bursting through a dam. I shook uncontrollably while ecstasy held me in its clutches.
I finally slumped on his chest, spent and sated, pleased at the erratic pounding of his heartbeat in my ear. After our breathing slowed, I reluctantly slid off him and dried us off with a towel, then I slipped on a robe and unbound him, sighing into his kiss when he sat up and pulled me into his lap. We teased and explored each other until he was ready to be bound again, and we fucked well into the morning.
ten
I set a cup of steaming coffee on the nightstand and bent over the bed, kissing Brad’s smooth cheek. “Good morning, handsome.”
He rolled over, draping an arm across his eyes with a groan. “Good morning,” he finally said, scooting up in bed.
I handed him a cup, watching him while he blew on the surface. “You don’t have to go to work?”
He finally took a sip, wincing as if it was too hot. Baby. “Not until later.” He looked me over with an appreciative smile. “What about you?”
I protruded my cleavage a tad more than necessary. I’d gotten my leather vest at the consignment shop down the street. It was totally ’80s punk with all kinds of buckles and snaps, smashing my tits together like two mountains colliding after a seismic shift. It went well with a pair of tight, faded jeans and black boots. I’d even dug up a set of black leather wrist bands to match. They hid my fading scars.
“I need to leave soon.” I motioned toward the kitchen. “Want some breakfast?” I wasn’t about to scramble him an omelet, but I could microwave frozen waffles or make toast.
“Just coffee.” He smiled, staring down my cleavage like he had X-ray vision. “I don’t want to make you late.”
“It’s okay.” I shrugged, turning my gaze to a piece of mascara stuck to my fingernail. “I don’t want to go anyway.”
He set down his cup, taking my hands in his, rubbing his finger across that faint scar on my knuckles. “What are you shooting today?”
I frowned. “A scene I fucked up.” At least, I figured that’s what was on the schedule. Johanna had let me put it off a few days, but I knew her patience was wearing thin.
His eyes darkened. “The scene with the handcuffs?”
I had to look away, a feeling of unease overcoming me. “Yeah.”
He squeezed my hands tight. “Tell them no.”
I shook off his grip, a mix between a sob and laughter escaping my throat. “I can’t tell them no.”
He leaned forward, eying me intently. “Why?”
Was he for real? “Brad,” I groaned. “I’m a nobody in this town.”
“Not to me.” He pouted.
Seriously? Was I just supposed to be content as Brad’s fuck neighbor? Didn’t he care that becoming a successful actress had been my life-long aspiration?
I spoke between gritted teeth. “I need this job, Brad.”
“Okay.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “But I worry about you.”
“Well, don’t.” I scooted off the bed. “I’m not a snowflake.” Did he think he was my knight in shining armor? That I needed him to save me from my big, bad Hollywood career? I didn’t need saving. I could save myself.
His shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t say you were.”
I straightened my vest, wishing it gave me a little more breathing room. “I have to get to work.”
He tossed his legs over the bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor. “I’ll show myself out.”
“Okay.” I infused a note of enthusiasm into my voice. Like I was a cheerleader on crack, and I didn’t care that my boyfriend was being a dick, and we were parting in anger, kind of like we’d been doing to each other the last few days.
What the hell was going on with us? Why did he have to treat me like a fragile flower and then poke and poke when I clearly wanted to drop the issue? Why couldn’t he have simply been my obedient little sex toy, letting me ride him when I got the urge? Not asking questions. Not wanting to dive deeper into our relationship. Couldn’t he just be happy with the Ariana he saw on the surface, enjoying my company without taking us too seriously? Was it too much to ask that I wanted our intimacy to be shallow and self-serving?
Fuck, Ariana, you really are screwed up in the head.
eleven
They were still working on the scene from yesterday, and I wasn’t in it, so I took Johanna’s hint and went back to the shrink. I didn’t want to see Dr. Crunchy Underwear, but I was so relieved I didn’t have to shoot that scene I accidentally let Johanna talk me into going.
I sat on the patchwork sofa, scowling at that fingernail. The mascara still hadn’t come off. I made a mental note to get help from my makeup artist. Surely she had something that would remove it.
“Why are you so troubled today, Ariana?”
I looked up at her, realizing I didn’t even remember her name. Nona? Norma? Nancy? Whatever. Dr. Crunchy stared expectantly at me.
“I have this boyfriend,” I said on a sigh.
“Go on.” She tossed a dreadlock over one shoulder.
I wondered why a white girl needed dreads and how often, if ever, she washed her hair. “He’s very cute and sweet. He thinks I’m psycho.”
One bushy brow raised. “Are those his words?”
I shook my head. “My words, but I can feel it. I think I’m going to lose him.” My hand flew to my heart, which ached as if I’d run a marathon. Brad and I had been dating for almost four weeks. I never kept my guys around for longer than a month anyway. Why did I care that I was about to lose him?
“Why do you think that?”
My gaze snapped to hers, and my upper lip twitched in annoyance. “Is that all you do? Ask a bunch of damn questions?”
She bowed her head, picking up her pencil. “This is about you, Ariana,” she said without flinching, as if she’d had years of practice dealing with hot-headed Latinas.
I crossed my arms, blowing a strand of hair out of my face wi
th an exasperated breath. “Because I have too much emotional baggage.”
“If he can’t handle your emotional baggage, do you think he’s worthy of you?”
I rolled my eyes. “More questions.” Why did that question annoy me above all others? Because if she’s right, you’ll have to let him go, Ariana.
She chewed on the end of her pencil, eyeing me as if I was some strange science experiment. “Think about it.”
“He’s put up with a lot. I can be difficult sometimes.” Ay Dios Mio! I’d become one of those women who made excuses for her men. I was a lost cause.
She looked thoughtfully at me before scribbling something in her notebook, probably that I was a pathetic patient, dependent on a man who wasn’t worthy of her affection. If only she’d known me a few months ago.
She looked up, twirling the pencil between her fingers. “Sometimes life is difficult.”
“No shit,” I blurted, inwardly pleased when her cool and collected façade cracked for just a second.
I was the daughter of an illegal immigrant housekeeper. My father had died crossing the Brazos before I was born. I didn’t need to be told by some LA head-shrink what I already knew. Yeah, life is difficult. I was hoping loving didn’t have to be difficult, too.
twelve
By the time I got back to work, they were ready to shoot my scene. I guess Johanna figured two sessions with her shrink was enough to prepare me for more torture. It wasn’t, but that was my problem, not hers. I was going to shoot that damn scene if it killed me.
I crawled onto the bed, expelling a shaky breath while the crew chained me to the headboard. You got this, Ariana. Stop being a pussy.
My costar warily eyed me while climbing onto the bed. He looked like the stereotypical pimp, in a black velvet jogging suit and several strands of fake gold chains, his cornrows tied back in a bandana. He reminded me nothing of Dwayne Livingston, the classically trained actor who was a master of the violin and had every single line of Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, and Macbeth memorized.
“Hey, Dwayne.” I faked a smile, pretending my heart wasn’t racing a million miles an hour. “I’m really sorry about hurting you.”
“It’s okay,” he said, flashing a weary look. “My voice is back to normal now, and it only hurts when I run.”
Fuck. I rattled my chains, wishing I could hug him, though he probably would resist. “I feel so bad. “
“No problem. I’m wearing a metal cup this time.” When he drummed his fingers on his groin, I was shocked to hear a hollow, clanking sound.
Damn. Well, I couldn’t blame him for not trusting me.
“Remember your lines, Ariana?” Johanna asked.
“I know them,” I grumbled, forcing myself to get into character. Ugh. It was going to be a long day.
* * *
“Cut,” Johanna yelled. “That was brilliant.” She sat on the bed beside me, patting my knee as a crew member unbound me. “How are you feeling?”
“Huh?” I looked at Johanna for several long moments. It was just a scene, Ariana. It’s over.
Reggie—no wait, Dwayne—bent over me, removing his bandana. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my sore wrists. They were throbbing, but they weren’t bleeding. “I need to be alone.”
“Go get some rest,” Johanna said.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, I did my best to smile. “Thanks.”
After scrubbing off gobs of prostitute makeup and brushing the spray out of my hair, I changed into my vest and jeans and relaxed on a futon in my dressing room while reading through the lines for my next scene.
I looked up at the sound of a knock on the door. “Hey, Ariana. Want to come to the club with me tonight?” JJ leaned against the doorframe, looking sexier than should be legal in low-rise jeans and a printed T-shirt. His thick black hair was spiked in all directions, making him look like he’d just rolled out of bed, though I knew he’d probably spent a long time perfecting that look.
I checked the time on my phone. Holy shit! It was past four o’clock. I had a late-night flight, and I still hadn’t packed. “I can’t. I’m flying to Texas this weekend.” I was determined to throw my best friend, Savannah, a bachelorette party, whether she wanted one or not, even though she couldn’t drink or stay out late because she was carrying twins.
“Next weekend then?” I frowned. “I’m flying to Hawaii.” Savannah was getting married that weekend, despite my best efforts to talk her out of it. She was so young, and it was all happening so fast.
Kind of like you and Brad, Ariana.
“Lucky.” He pouted, crossing muscular arms over a hard chest, looking like one big pectoral piece of man candy. “I’ve never been.”
“Really?” I perked up at that. “I need to bring a date. The bride is paying for everything.” Because the groom’s two brothers, who were also my ex-boyfriends—correction, ex-fucks—were going to be at the wedding, Savannah had said I couldn’t bring Brad. One of those ex-fucks was particularly jealous, and he still felt he had some sort of claim on me. The last thing I wanted was for him to cause a scene at Savannah’s wedding, so I’d agreed to leave Brad at home. But they wouldn’t object to JJ.
“Plane tickets and hotel?” he asked.
“And food and drinks.”
He rushed toward my futon, falling to his knees in a prayer pose. “Take me, please!”
I tapped my chin, pretending to mull over the decision. “All right, JJ.”
He jumped to his feet, pulling me with him. He gave me a hard squeeze and squealed so loud, my eardrums nearly burst.
He pulled back, his brow furrowing. “You sure your neighbor won’t mind?”
I rolled my eyes. “Too fucking bad if he does.”
I’d already told Brad about the wedding trip, and he didn’t seem too happy he hadn’t been invited, but gah, I couldn’t be stuck on an island with two former fucks and the current fuck. Besides, taking Brad to a wedding? We’d only been together a month, and I didn’t want to give him any ideas. Not that I expected us to last.
Brad was still at work when I got home, so I fired off a text, reminding him to look after the house. I’d been planning this party for Savannah for a few weeks, and I’d already told him I’d be leaving this weekend. I was surprised when he texted me right back.
I smiled at his message. Will do. I frowned at the next text. We need to talk when you get back.
This was it! Brad had finally tired of my drama and was breaking up with me. Oh, well, it had been good while it lasted. I would’ve broken up with him soon anyway. My stupid heart didn’t want to believe me, though. It beat like it was working for half a person, a dull, slow, depressing thud, as if the casing had cracked down the middle. I feared that by the time I got back, it would be completely shattered.
Maybe Dr. Crunchy Underwear was right. Maybe I deserved better than Brad if he wasn’t willing to put up with my past. I’d made it this far without him. I didn’t need him. So why did my heart still ache?
JJ dropped me off at the airport on the way to his club. I wouldn’t see Brad until Sunday night. I sure hoped he’d be willing to work things out when I got back. I sure hoped I’d be willing.
thirteen
Fate, not a bachelorette party, sent me back home that weekend. My parents only had milk and sugar for their coffee, no flavoring, no frothy cream. The coffee at the small town donut shop wasn’t much better, so I found myself at the local grocery store, hoping I could get something with hazelnut.
Instead I got Clint Sellers, still as skinny as a bean poll, gaping at me and clutching a box of crackers.
“Hey, Clint,” I said, pretending we’d seen each other yesterday and not knowing what else to say.
“Ariana? Wow. How are you?” He flashed a wide smile, revealing that missing bottom tooth. I remembered when he’d lost it, too. Bud Boudreau had swung a saddle at him and said he’d been aiming for the hay bale. He didn’t even offer to pay Clint’s dental bill.
“I�
�m okay.” I shrugged, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. I had no idea why I was blushing. Clint and I never had a thing for each other. At least I never had a thing for him. I’d never considered him my type, and yeah, I’d been stuck up to think it, but he barely graduated high school, even after taking the most remedial classes. I preferred my guys to be smarter. I worried my lower lip, thinking back to our high school days and hoping I hadn’t talked down to him. “How are you?”
His smile widened as he held up the crackers. “I’m doing great.”
Was there meaning behind the crackers? I wasn’t sure. One thing I did notice was a solid gold wedding band on the other hand.
I inched closer to him, then looked over my shoulder to make sure nobody was around. “I never got to thank you for what you did for me.”
He took a step back, his face flaming all the way to his wavy blond roots. “No need to thank me.”
“You saved me,” I breathed. Why had I thought so little of Clint while we were growing up? He might not have been the smartest guy in school, but he’d sure been the bravest and the kindest.
He rubbed the stubble on his chin, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Anyone in my shoes would have done the same thing.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” I shook my head, willing the tears at the backs of my eyes to stay put. “Everyone in town was terrified of Bud Boudreau, and you know it.” Bud had been one of the wealthiest tycoons in Texas. He’d owned every cop and judge within three hundred square miles. Clint had taken a big risk by helping me.
Clint let out a low chuckle, rocking back and forth on his heels. “My papa always told me the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
I fought not to roll my eyes at Clint’s cliché, especially since it made a lot of sense.
“You handled the situation like a boss,” he said with a wink.
“What do you mean?”
He raised his chin, that goofy smile of his growing exponentially wider. “You just brushed yourself off and got back up. Most girls would’ve been hysterical.”
