by Xavier Neal
“What about your parents?” Levi swiftly asks. “Either of them Hellcats fans?”
“My dad hates sports and the only one my mother gives a shit about is gymnastics. Fairly certain she only cares about that because it occasionally reminds her of outrageous choreography she used to do when she was younger.”
His head cocks in curiosity. “Those sound like stories I definitely wanna hear.”
Lynn interjects before I have a chance to reply. “Hey, do you want me to introduce you to Terry?”
“That would be…fucking amazing.” He drops his hopeful gaze down to me. “Do you mind, babe? Can we swing over there first and then grab a drink?”
“Why don’t you two go?” I fake a supportive tone. “I’ll get a drink, and you can come find me afterwards.”
Levi swiftly presses his lips against mine, however he doesn’t let them linger for too long. “You’re incredible.”
And he’s an idiot….
Lynn leads them one way while I split the opposite direction.
Outside, I loiter near the bar unsure if drowning my irritation in expensive alcohol is the best decision. I allow the internal war to continue only declaring a victor when my eyes drift back inside the mansion just in time to see Levi and Lynn share another laugh.
I stomp over to the cute bartender. “Tequila.”
“With?”
“A shot glass.”
He nods his compliance. “Salt or lime?”
“Nope.”
As soon as it’s in my possession I down it.
The moment I’m finished, he asks, “Would you like another?”
Placing it back down on the table, I demand, “Make it a double.”
The man who is getting more attractive by the minute, pulls out a taller glass, and fills it to the brim. He pushes it my direction and states with a sexy accent, “¡Salud!”
I toss the liquid down my throat and succumb to the seduction of using it to forget how my boyfriend is inside with another woman. To forget the other woman is the same woman he will be naked with in front of a camera in just two days. To forget how they’re a match made in Hollywood heaven and how I’ll soon be staring into the fiery pits of Hollywood Hell.
More booze sound good to you? Nah. I don’t need any more fucking lists to remind me it’s time to drink again.
Adrianna’s hand lands on mine to prevent my next request. “Slow down, mama. We’re not in Mexico. You can drink the water here.”
The joke causes the bartender to chuckle.
She eyeballs him for a brief moment, mentally making a note of some kind.
Most likely to come back and invite him to her room later.
“Excuse us.” Adrianna drags me away from where I was placating myself with top shelf booze to a corner near the door. “You only turn to tequila shots when you’re pissed off.”
“I do not.”
“Should I use the example of Fall Festival sophomore year of college as an example or would you prefer a more recent one like last winter when we all went to that Friday concert and-”
“Fine! Yes! I only drink tequila when I’m pissed.”
“And what has led you to the lime side?”
“Just….” My hands give my wavy hair a ruffle. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“Oh okay. So these little steps towards Margraritaville have nothing to do with your tonsil hockey partner?”
I can’t stop myself from making a retching motion.
“Uh-huh,” Adrianna says smugly. “That’s what I thought. Where is he?”
“Fangirling.”
She looks intrigued. “Over who?”
“Barry Tueller or Larry Nueller or something like that.”
“Terry Mueller?”
Wagging my finger at her, I nod. “That sounds right.”
Her expression returns to inquisitive. “Why is this an issue?”
“Oh it’s not.” I motion my head their direction. “The vanilla bean bimbo who has an annoyingly impressive track record for successfully stealing my boyfriend’s attention is.”
Adrianna glances over her shoulder just as Lynn gives Levi a playful push.
Mistleho.
“I see.”
“Drink?” A passing waiter offers, and I quickly reach for it.
My best friend doesn’t stop me this time. She grabs one for herself and dismisses him with a polite grin.
Once we’re alone again, she has several sips of champagne in between stealing stares of the situation unfolding inside.
As much as I want to believe it’s harmless, it looks anything but from this distance. The way she keeps moving closer to him….The way she keeps finding what appears to be any excuse to touch him….The way they are acting like a couple hanging out with their everyday basketball buddy….All of this feels wrong. And no matter what my brain tells my heart to believe, it refuses.
Adrianna finally speaks. “I’m gonna give you an early Christmas present, and you’re gonna take it.”
“What?”
She pulls her silky straight black hair to the side of her face so it dangles directly near the parted opening of her white dress. “I’m gonna go in there and run interference. You will then rightfully reclaim your boyfriend’s attention, take him upstairs, and jealousy fuck the shit out of him.”
Even intoxicated that sounds like a terrible plan.
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean, no. We shouldn’t be having sex just because I’m a little bit….”
“Jealous?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Right and I’m not gonna fuck the Cuban bartender at the end of the night.”
Told ya.
“Kady, a little amount of jealousy sex in a relationship is healthy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Super healthy.”
Tell her that’s bullshit. I mean, yeah it’s been a minute or two since I was in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean the crazy shit she is saying is true.
My mouth moves to object when Lynn’s hand slides slowly down Levi’s arm.
Fuck it. Let’s try it her way. You can thank the tequila for my easily swayed decision.
“What do you need me to do?”
“That a girl.” Adrianna viciously snickers like a master mind. She hands me her glass to hold, readjusts her white backless mini dress to guarantee all the side boob possible is showing, and instructs, “All you need to do is go inside and patiently wait for the sports spell he’s under to be broken. The minute it is, he’ll come looking for you. Make him chase you a bit. It’ll be more fun for the both of you. Promise.”
My best friend snatches her glass out of my hand and struts back inside, the sound of her heels echoing like a war rally cry.
This is definitely one of those times where having a hot best friend works in my favor. Oh….Yes. I do keep a list of those occasions. I’ll make sure to put this one on it. You know. If I can remember it. Starting to wonder if I’m drunker than I initially thought.
I wander around the kitchen, taking the long way around to the position perfect for eavesdropping yet far enough away to pretend I don’t know he’s looking for me.
Adrianna doesn’t hesitate to slide in close to Terry. “You’re Terry Mueller.”
The bald, dark chocolate, large framed basketball player wets his lips. “I am. And you are….”
“What wet dreams are made of, baby, but you can call me Adrianna.”
Don’t look surprised. She’s been saying that type of shit since before she was legal.
Lynn loudly scoffs yet seems too stunned to speak a word.
Levi grows an uncomfortable look, takes a step back, and shakes his head. His eyes begin a frantic search for me proving Adrianna’s star struck theory. I eagerly watch his face dancing around the crowd in desperation for a clue, any clue to my disappearance. When his eyes finally land my direction, my smile becomes sexually vindictive, and his glare predator
y. Our game of cat and mouse progresses around the clueless party guests. Having the territorial advantage makes slipping in and out of sight effortless, but the need to see the emotions cycling on Levi’s face nearly gets me caught before I’m ready.
Just when his frustration threatens to reach the pinnacle, I veer off towards the security guard protected stairs, and slow down my steps. He cocks a crooked grin clearly aware I’m ready to be caught. Taken. Claimed.
“Miss Allan,” Donald, the member of security who is guarding the stairs from unwanted visitors, greets me. “Going up?”
I lock eyes with Levi who is still stalking me. “Yes please.”
He moves the rope to allow me entrance yet hooks it back with my boyfriend still on the other side.
Levi looks up at me with an overwhelming amount of heat thrumming through his gaze. “Are you going to let me come up too?”
My fingertip drags itself across the top of my tits that are stuffed into my cocktail dress. “Depends.”
His face twitches in desperation. “On.”
“If you’re ready to give me your full,” I dip my eyes down to where I can see his dick growing, “attention.”
Levi’s hand gives the railing he is holding a hard squeeze. “Absolutely.”
With a playful smirk, I turn on my heels and return to strolling up the stairs. I exaggerate every step to make sure his hunger builds. When I’m almost to the top, I call over my shoulder, “Let him up, Donald.”
The sound of his feet rushing after me sparks my own to move faster. Our game returns to active except this time I allow him to periodically capture me. Each time he does, he delivers a different dirty warning of what’s to come. He pushes me against the wall, knocking the frames off center, and darts his tongue between my spread lips. He wedges us in corners and guides his fingers down the crack of my ass. He traps me right in the middle of the open hallway and buries his face between my boobs. We’re barely three steps inside my dark bedroom before he’s bending me over my dresser with the door still slightly ajar.
Levi hastily attempts to rip open a condom. I torment him by lifting up my dress and grinding my bare ass against his still freshly freed cock. The growl that suddenly fills the room is as feral as the condom covered thrust he delivers during it.
I arch back, and he grabs a fist full of my hair. “That enough attention, babe?”
Moaning my argument proves to be pointless.
Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question.
He tightens his grip on my hip while slamming his dick mercilessly through the scorching heat. My pussy weeps its approval, wetness determined to wash away proof he’s ever had another woman in this way. I throw my ass back into each push, creating a pivot of pleasure and pain between the frantic pounding and the savage yanking of my hair. There’s not a shred of absolution in any of his movements. Not an ounce of anything other than pure power. Power over my thoughts. Power over my body. Power over the last sliver of my soul I’m desperately clutching onto.
Levi groans loudly. “This is the only pussy that matters to me.”
His proclamation tempts my orgasm to pour out. I fight the desire on a breathless cry of his name, “Levi….”
Another animalistic groan is grabbed from his chest. “Fucking come for me, Kady.”
My pussy doesn’t delay in fulfilling the demand. I thoughtlessly make the effort to let my face drop forward, but Levi refuses to loosen his hold. On an earth shattering scream, I start shuddering and every bone in my body feels as if it’s breaking from the magnitude. Levi’s own body falters yet he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t join me in falling apart. He pins my heaving front against my dresser and continues to unrelentingly rock. Praise upon praise clashes into pleading for more. Regardless of my mind’s stance on my body’s inability to endure the harsh actions, my pussy refuses to stop pulsating until another orgasm is sundered from me.
Levi’s fingers flex into my back at the same time he grumbles, “You’re mine.”
One final groan is released before his trembles trample mine. Completely splayed out, I shut my eyes, and soak in every possible second of this moment. His heavy breathing. His wobbly legs. His hands that seem incapable of detaching from my skin.
A sweet smile sneaks onto my lips.
I may be his, but in this moment he’s managed to prove he’s mine just as well. Maybe jealousy sex once in a while can be beneficial. Don’t tell Ri I said that. Her ego is inflated enough.
Chapter 13
LEVI
“I fucking love you, Rainne. I’ll burn the whole goddamn world down if they try to take you from me again.” I yank her roughly against me using the edge of her t-shirt and crash our lips together. Our mouths move together in a forced display of passion. In a well-planned, prepared, execution of mechanical movements intended to convince the audience of our undying love.
“Cut!” Francesco yells.
Instantly I step back.
Of course there’s no hesitation. This is my job. I have no personal interest in kissing Lynn. Not now. Not ever. And if you want me to let you in on a little secret, I’m secretly starting to loathe her because I’ve spent more time these past six weeks pretending to screw her than actually getting to sleep with my girlfriend.
“Brilliant!” His hand shakes in the air. “Thought I wanted your hands on her neck, but the ass grab. That….That spoke volumes to your character. To his natural nature. To his soul.”
There’s only one neck my hands belong on that way, and she should be landing at any fucking minute.
“Purely brilliant,” he continues to praise. “Wasn’t that brilliant, Lynn. Didn’t it just feel more possessive? More perfect?”
She eagerly nods her agreement. “Absolutely.”
“You two have so much chemistry.” The small man says tapping the tips of his fingers together. “I think we may end up making many movies together.”
Lynn shoots me a sweet smirk.
She’s a nice chick. Really. She takes her job seriously. She’s respectful of running lines around my video chats with Kady or my family. She’s even come to me for advice on how to deal with being homesick. This is her first major role and the only one where she’s had to be around somewhere for longer than a weekend. We’re friends. Nothing more. I wouldn’t mind working with her again, but I’m not sure Kadence could take it.
“That’s’ it for you two today. Make sure you’ve both received the updated shooting schedule from your assistants.”
I can’t speak quick enough, “Wait. What? I thought we weren’t working this weekend. I thought you were filming with Ian and Logan.”
“It’s why I used the word updated, Mr. Stone,” he rambles off, checking paperwork being offered to him. “You’ve got a combat session and then dry runs of the heist scene, which filming for has now been moved up to Sunday.”
Fuck. Me. It’s bad enough I’ve barely been able to text or call Kady with how grueling our schedule has been lately, but now I’ve gotta drag her around set after promising her we’d have a romantic weekend just the two of us? How do I even break the news to her without expecting a swift kick in the nuts?
Francesco flings the paper out of the crew member’s hands. “Unacceptable! Where is he?! Where is that little prick?!”
“Th-th-that way,” the male cringes.
Our director violently storms away allowing Lynn and me to exit the area. We’re barely off the set before thin print outs are being thrusted towards our faces.
I grumble my displeasure.
Andre meekly makes an attempt to soothe my spirit. “All accommodations have been set for the two of you at the hotel and the car is on its way now to pick up Kady from the airport.”
He’s a great assistant. Always two steps ahead of me leaving just the basic shit for me to do like…act and show up for whatever has been scheduled. Occasionally, when I need him to go the distance, he does without complaints. You think he works so hard for the money or random bonus vacations I send him a
nd his love of the week on?
After sharing in a brief conversation about our matching irritations, I quickly change out of the swimwear I’ve been sporting all day, grab my packed bag, and have Andre rush me to the downtown hotel where my girlfriend is supposed to meet me.
On my way into the lobby I pull the baseball cap down to block more of my face and shove on a pair of sunglasses for good measure.
There have been several reports about us filming here and the media, as always, is hunting for any extra photo they can sniff out. This weekend is already ruined thanks to the change in shooting. The last thing I need is it to be made unsalvageable because we’re being chased by fans and tabloid tools.
