And then she left.
Sometimes I couldn’t stand Nicole.
Other times I knew that deep down she truly understood me, which made me not dislike her so much. She was a good person, great at her job, but if she found out about Kobe and me, I was certain my dad would be the first person she told.
This sucked.
I liked Kobe. A lot. And I’d just met him so the feeling was strange. Why did I like him so much? Find him so intriguing? Crave him day and night after only a couple of days? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
He was only a floor up and with Nicole popping up like that, there was a higher risk of getting caught.
I couldn’t let that happen.
FOURTEEN
Chanel
I met Kobe outside the building, and he immediately grabbed my suitcases, tossing them in the trunk. Several men with cameras called my name, snapping pictures. I waved at them before getting into the truck.
To keep things casual, Kobe sat in the passenger seat with his eyes ahead. I couldn’t help stealing glances of him as we drove to the airport. Last night’s little sexcapade was still on my mind.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His body. The way he touched me—demanding, aggressive, but still gentle.
It was a mess trying to get through the crowded airport. I was stopped by several fans and people who recognized me, even beneath my black baseball cap and leather jacket.
I didn’t mind it, but Kobe eventually had to step in and stop me from taking on any more autographs before I ended up being late for my flight.
I boarded the plane, sitting in first class with a glass of wine offered to me right away, sipping it lightly when I got comfortable in my seat. It was about three in the afternoon—probably too early for wine, but I didn’t care. It was five o’clock somewhere. Drinking always settled my nerves during flights anyway.
Kobe sat across from me, scanning me with his warm, heavy brown eyes.
“What?” I laughed.
“Even in sweatpants, you look good enough to eat,” he murmured as the flight attendant walked by. I bit a smile, picking up my glass and taking a small sip.
“Have a drink,” I insisted.
“Not on the job.”
“Alright.” I sighed. “So, I don’t know if Nicole has filled you in, but this shoot is with a man named Marco Iglesias. He’s pretty well-known in the industry and this photo shoot is kind of a make-or-break kind of deal. After that’s wrapped up, we have to get on another flight and go to my dad’s beach home in Beverly Hills for his annual charity event for breast cancer.” I swallowed hard. “It’s how my mom died so I always make sure to attend. It’s in her name. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“The Teresa Gooding Charity. Yeah, I know,” he said.
I straightened in my seat, narrowing my eyes at him. “How do you know about it?”
“I always do research on my clients before taking them on. Let’s me know what I’m getting into with the person and how to handle them when problems arise,” he said confidently.
“You think you know me because you read my Wikipedia page?” I laughed, placing my glass in the cup holder.
“No,” he answered with a smug look on his face. “But I do know that you’ve been modeling since you were a baby. That your favorite color is silver—a weird favorite color, I might add. Your best friend is Skye Jennings and when you sleep, you do this little hum. It’s kinda cute.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Do I talk in my sleep too?”
He smiled. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“I guess we’ll figure that out one day soon.”
He adjusted in his seat when I said that, spine straightening as the pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers. His face changed like something serious had crossed his mind. While the pilot spoke, he ran his tongue over his dry bottom lip and lowered his gaze.
Finally, when the pilot’s voice was gone, Kobe cleared his throat and buckled in. I did the same, giving him a wary glance.
“What just happened here, bodyguard?” I asked, doing my best to sound playful.
His lips pushed together and he scratched the scruff along his jaw before letting out a heavy breath. “I just don’t want you thinking this is anything more than—I just mean.” He shook his head with a huff, swiping a hand over his face.
I felt my eyebrows stitch together.
“Look, Chanel, the last thing I’m looking for right now is something serious. I just don’t want you thinking this will go beyond what it is.”
“Go past being just sex, you mean,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. I failed miserably. It sounded coarse. Frantic.
He just nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. He looked at me, and I felt so pathetic.
“Don’t worry. I’m not looking for anything serious right now either. Not like the world should know about us anyway,” I replied.
I don’t know why I said the last sentence. It was kind of harsh. But I didn’t want him thinking I cared more than I did. But the reality was I did. And I couldn’t understand why him telling me how he felt bothered me so much.
I knew this.
I fucking knew this.
He couldn’t be more.
Last night had me feeling so many different things for him. Enamored. Lustful. Craving everything from him. All of it blurred the lines.
At the end of the day, he was my bodyguard. And my father was paying this man to protect me. Not to fuck me. Not to care about me. Just to watch over me.
“Don’t take it personally,” he said, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s not you. It’s just…this whole situation we’re in, and how quickly it happened. And my past always interferes…makes me think twice.” When he said that, the skin on his forehead crumpled.
“What happened in your past?” I asked.
He avoided my eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“Why can’t you tell me?”
He kept his gaze outside the window. The plane started moving and my mouth sealed shut as I looked out of my window too.
I was frustrated and slightly offended.
But I wasn’t going to tell him that.
He was right. It couldn’t be more than what it was.
Just sex.
FIFTEEN
Kobe
She didn’t stop to sign autographs at the airport this time. She hustled her way through the crowds, apologizing to the people she didn’t have time to sign things for or snap a picture with.
I had to step in and lead the way for her, keeping people several steps back, until we reached the escalator. We rode it down, me a step behind her, until we saw her driver waiting with a tablet in hand and her name on the screen.
When we made it outside, she handed me her carry-on bag without looking at me and then got into the backseat as I tossed the bag on top of her suitcases in the trunk.
The ride was quiet as hell, thick with tension, and I was glad the driver had the radio on, the noise filling the void. I glanced over my shoulder and Chanel had her headphones on, bobbing her head to the music.
She was ignoring me. She’d ignored me during the whole flight, reading magazines, her Kindle, and even using her laptop. Doing literally anything to avoid having to talk to me.
She was upset because I told her the truth.
I couldn’t get in too deep with her. It wasn’t only for my sake, but for hers too. Her career, as well as mine, would be on the line. We had to keep this as private as possible. No feelings. Nothing too serious. Reality had a bad habit of fucking me over and I didn’t need that happening with Chanel.
As soon as the driver neared the building, there were several people with cameras waiting at the gate to catch unwanted pictures. He drove through the gate and security shut it immediately, keeping the people back.
I hopped out of the passenger seat, rounding the truck, and pulling her door open. She stepped out, walking right past me, and going for the entrance.
Okay.
Cool.
She was going to keep playing the quiet game with me.
What the fuck ever. I didn’t have time for this shit.
I beat her to the door and pulled it open as the people at the gate yelled her name. When we walked inside, it was much busier than I expected. And by the looks of it she wasn’t the only model preparing for a photo shoot today.
There were at least a dozen of them, male and female, most of them half naked, getting dressed. Some sitting in chairs getting their makeup or hair done.
Chanel started walking toward a booth, but then she turned her head to the right and froze up, stopping mid-step. Frowning, I looked in the direction she was looking in and saw a tall man with blond hair, a hairstyle that made him appear taller than he was. He was shirtless, pale, talking to two female models.
When I saw him, I knew exactly who he was.
Chanel’s ex-boyfriend, Riley Rivers.
Chanel sucked in a breath, rushing to a chair with her name on the back. She dropped her purse in the chair and then gripped the edge of the counter in front of her, staring into the mirror.
“What the hell is he doing here?” she asked, nearly breathless.
She stood up tall, placing her hands on her hips, shutting her eyes for a brief moment before looking over again to where he was.
This time, he wasn’t talking, but looking right at Chanel.
He winked at her.
She snatched her gaze away, breathing harder through her nostrils.
“And she’s here too,” she muttered painfully.
“Who?” I asked, arms folded.
“The girl he cheated on me with. The one with the platinum hair. Rosie Dawn.” I spotted Rosie and immediately considered Riley Rivers a fool. She had nothing on Chanel.
I picked up her bag and placed it on the counter of the vanity.
“Sit down and breathe,” I told her.
She looked at me with a hard, irritated glare before doing as told and sitting in the chair.
“Ignore that motherfucker,” I said. “He isn’t worth shit.”
“Yeah? Well Forbes seems to think he’s worth 20 million,” she said, half-laughing, half-scoffing.
“But you’re worth more—64 million to be exact—so act like it.” Her eyes flashed up to meet mine, like she couldn’t believe I knew that, too. When I said I did my research, I really did my research. I knew all the facts. “Fuck him.”
She lowered her gaze, snatching her hat off. “As soon as this shoot is over, I want to get the hell out of here. I don’t want to talk to anyone and don’t let him anywhere near me.”
“You got it.”
Her makeup artist slinked her way over, introducing herself and getting right to it, while a tall, thin woman started messing with Chanel’s hair. The photographer showed up several minutes later, shaking Chanel’s hand and introducing himself.
I looked to my right, where her asshole of an ex-boyfriend was, and he started coming this way. I turned, arms folded, as he kept his eyes pinned on Chanel like a sly fox prowling for innocent prey.
He tried getting past me but I pressed a hand to his pale chest, shaking my head. “She doesn’t want you anywhere near her.”
He gave me a snake-like smile. “I’m sorry—who the fuck are you?”
“Kobe Ward, her new bodyguard.”
“Well, Kobe,” he sneered, shoving my hand away, “it just so happens that I have to go this way.” Funny thing is she wanted Riley to stay as far away from her as possible, but his chair was in the booth right beside hers.
I wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence, or if he’d requested it. Either way, it was fucked up, considering the whole world knew they weren’t on good terms.
He walked past me, going for his chair, giving Chanel a thorough sweep with his eyes before chuckling to himself and checking his cellphone.
Chanel did her best to ignore him, but I saw how panicked she was. It pissed me off seeing her like that, and all because of a pussy like him—a cheater who was full of himself and couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
I did my best to keep cool, trying not to invest in the situation personally, but an hour passed and he was boastful with his friends, talking loudly about how he couldn’t wait to hook up with some girl tonight. He whistled at Chanel, trying to get her attention, asking her if she wanted to join in too, but she ignored him.
When the hair stylist finished with her hair, Chanel glanced at me and I couldn’t fucking believe it. Her eyes had welled up. She tried blinking the tears away, and fortunately she won.
Alright. That was it.
I stepped up, grabbing her elbow. “Come with me. Need to talk to you.”
She blinked rapidly and the makeup artist looked confused. “My shoot starts in ten minutes and I still have to get dressed,” Chanel said.
“It’ll be quick. Promise.” I stepped back and she looked at me warily, glanced back at Riley who was getting dressed, and then stood up, following me to a door that led out to an empty hallway.
When we were in the clear, away from the chaos inside, she said, “I need to get back, Kobe. This guy likes to stay on schedule.”
I ignored her, still marching down the hallway, until I came across a private office. I twisted the knob and it was unlocked, so I pushed it open, grabbed her hand, and hauled her into the room.
She yelped as I reeled her in, body flush on mine, my hands going straight for her sweatpants as I kicked the door closed. I shoved her pants down as I crushed her lips, greedy for a taste, and she moaned behind it, pressing a hand to my chest, but letting it fall in no time, stepping out of the pants willingly.
I didn’t pull my lips away as I unbuckled my belt and lowered my jeans and boxers. My cock was hard and free and it only wanted to be in one place: Chanel’s pussy.
I cupped her perfect plump ass in my hands and picked her up. Her legs knew exactly what to do. They wrapped around me, the heels of her feet digging into my back as I guided her down, the head of my cock pressing on the slick entrance of her pussy.
“I think you forgot what I told you last night,” I growled on her lips. She had her arms tight around my neck, eyes focused on mine as I slid her down, inch by inch, making her stretch around me.
“What are you talking about, bodyguard?” she sighed, trying to act careless. Like having my cock inside her didn’t make her want to sigh my real name instead.
“Your pussy is mine now, yet you’re worried about a motherfucker who never deserved you.” She gasped when I brought her all the way down. I was cock-deep in her pussy, looking into her electric gray eyes.
“I know,” she said in my ear as I turned her around and placed her on the desk, still between her legs and shifting deeper inside her. “I just can’t stand him.”
“Then don’t think about him. Think about me. Right now.” I cupped the back of her neck, thrusting harder. She gasped and then sighed. “Think about how good I feel inside you. Think about what I do to you—things he’ll never be able to do. Think about how hard I can make your pretty pussy come while I’m inside you.” She tightened her grip around me, breathing quicker.
“You are so fucking confusing,” she moaned, but her head fell back, and my lips met the exposed skin on her neck, sucking. Licking. Her pussy was so wet and tight around my dick. I wanted to come during the first few strokes in. Even though this was meant to be a quickie, I wanted it to last. I wanted to feel her milk the fuck out of my cock.
I kept sucking on her neck, giving powerful thrusts. Owning her body, marking it up, making this little superstar mine.
Fuck her ex.
She was forgetting all about him right now, enjoying how thick and hard I was inside her, giving her everything she’d ever desired.
Fuck, she felt so good.
Too damn good.
She gripped me tighter, pulling me close, moaning as her teeth sank into the lobe of my ear. Her moan was so sweet and sexy. It sounded innocent and perfect, but I kne
w she was far from it.
I knew because I was fucking her in some unknown office, on top of an unknown person’s desk, owning her pussy and loving every fucking second of it, and she hadn’t stopped me.
“Ah, yes, Kobe.” Her fingernails clutched the back of my shirt. “I’m close. So close.”
“That’s right. Come for me, baby. Come all over my dick.” I gripped her ass and picked her up again, bouncing her up and down on my cock. That really got her going. She held me tight, hugging me, keeping me close as she shuddered and moaned hard in my ear. My sweet little superstar came, and, fuck, my cock was drenched.
“Oh, yes, Kobe!” she cried, louder this time. And her voice was my ammunition. I lifted her up and down as she clenched and released, faster this time, until a feral groan ripped through me and I came, squirting deep in her throbbing pussy.
“Damn, Chanel,” I rasped on her collarbone while she clenched around the length of me. Seriously, how the fuck was I supposed to resist this?
She lifted up sluggishly, watching me with lazy eyes. “Pretty sure you’ve just ruined my makeup and messed up my hair.”
I pulled out and placed her on her feet. “They’ll fix it,” I chuckled softly.
She let out a soft breath, putting her pants back on. “I should get back. The photographer looks like the type to blow a fuse if things don’t go his way.”
I nodded, grabbing my jeans, and pulling them up. “I’ll let you go in first, wait here for a few minutes.”
She nodded as she grabbed the doorknob. Before she walked out, she stalled, peering over her shoulder at me. It seemed she had so much to say, but all she said was, “Thank you for that. For clearing my head.”
“Don’t thank me. Go out there and show that motherfucker exactly what he lost.”
She grinned hard before caging her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding, and turning to walk out the door. She shut it behind her and I let out a stiff breath, slouching down in one of the chairs.
Dirty Little Quickies Page 28
