“Slide your hands down, Jesse,” Liv called out, so I did. I slid my hands down over Katie’s round ass and squeezed her tight, plump cheeks through her lace panties.
Then Liv called, “Cut.”
I let go of Katie’s ass and after a small delay she let her arms drop from my shoulders.
Liv explained that we were gonna do the whole thing again from a different angle and had us turn slightly, so we were in the same position, but the camera could now see more of Katie’s face.
I didn’t take my eyes off Katie’s.
“What?” I demanded when she didn’t blink.
“Nothing,” she said, her voice all soft and breathless. “I just… kinda love this song.”
Yeah. What chick didn’t?
You ask me, lyrically, it was the best song ever written. I could say that, since I didn’t write the lyrics.
Of course, she probably loved it because she was used to Zane singing it.
She tried to break the gaze, but I grabbed her chin and held her. Just before we got rolling again, I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”
She blinked her big blue-green eyes at me. As we started shooting, she whispered in my ear. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Cut,” Liv called out. “Katie, we can see your lips moving. Save the talking for between takes, please. Let’s start that one again, from the top.”
The song started again and we followed Liv’s directions as we pretended to make out. As Katie got more comfortable her hands strayed over my back. Her fingernails dug into my skin, sending little pricks of pleasure straight to my dick. And every time I squeezed her ass and made her gasp, or brushed my lips across her skin and made her shiver, my balls tightened. My nipples hardened. Goosebumps started tingling across my skin.
Fuck me.
“It means,” I said, pulling her close in the next break, “you shouldn’t have thrown your hat in the ring unless you were ready to ride with the big bulls.”
“That’s a weirdly mixed metaphor,” she said in a disapproving schoolteacher tone, which was hot as fuck on her. All she needed was a pair of glasses and I’d spring wood.
As soon as we started shooting again, my hands went back to her ass to resume groping exactly where they’d left off. I squeezed her so hard her panties came down an inch and she flashed a scowl at me.
I winked.
“Cut,” Liv called. “Katie, we’re on you now, so watch your facial expressions, okay? We wanna see the heat. You’re madly in love, this is the best morning of your life. And Jesse?”
“Yeah, boss.”
“Stop fucking around, whatever you’re doing.”
I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Katie narrowed her pretty eyes at me.
I didn’t stop. I kept on doing anything and everything I thought I could get away with to make Katie Bloom uncomfortable, and possibly aroused.
Call me immature, but yeah, I was that brat at school who pulled the hair of the girl I had a crush on.
Some things never changed.
I pretended to get my thumb caught in her panties and flashed a full ass cheek at the camera. I accidentally bit her earlobe while I was whisper-singing in her ear. I yanked so hard on her bra strap while we were pawing each other that her pretty pink nipple popped right out.
That actually was an accident, but no way she was gonna believe it. No one actually saw it but me, since her back was to camera when it happened, so I just went ahead and fixed it, slipping the stretchy lace over the perfect pink bud before she could react.
When I looked into her eyes again there was a definite spark there. A spark of outrage, maybe.
At least I had her full attention.
The next few takes became a kind of groping argument, a silent battle over who could irritate the other into more discomfort, or in my case, increasing horniness.
To my frustration, she was quickly winning.
At least our little wrestling match must’ve been reading well on camera, because Liv was fucking loving it. She kept saying things like, “More!” and “Yes, like that. Grab him harder, Katie. Think of all the girls who want to be where you are right now and make it count. Rip him to shreds.”
Jesus.
At one point, when Katie pulled my hair and bit my neck, Liv actually applauded.
I was starting to gain a new appreciation for music video shoots.
But while I was getting horny, I was pretty sure Katie was just getting mad. Because in-between the next few increasingly-sweaty takes we carried on a stilted argument, which went something like…
Her (with a dirty look): “I didn’t throw anything in a ring, you know. I didn’t even want to be here.”
Me (trying to ignore my inconvenient semi): “Uh-huh.”
Her: “I’m only here because my best friend is an incredible talent agent and so good at her job that she convinced me to do this.”
Me: “What?”
Her: “I’m not even a model.”
Her: “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Her: “So if you don’t like what I’m doing or you want me gone, you can go ahead and fire me.”
Her: “Wait. Does that mean my agent won’t get paid?”
Me: “You seriously didn’t want this job?”
Her (panicking a little): “Forget what I said. Can my agent still get paid if I waive my fee and we call it even?”
Me: “You’re only here because she made you do it?”
Her: “Yes. I mean… no. Um.”
Her (floundering): “I mean… you seem… popular… and everything…”
Me: “Cut.”
Liv threw me a black look. She hated it when I called “Cut” on her set. Which I usually did a lot, but fuck it. We weren’t even shooting when I said it, but I was that fucking distracted by Katie Bloom’s rambling.
“I need a word with Katie,” I growled. “Talk amongst your fucking selves.”
As the crew made themselves busy, I pulled Katie closer to me, shifting her hips up my thighs until we were almost groin to groin. Brody cranked the music. This time it was AC/DC, You Shook Me All Night Long, because Brody was a fucking smart ass and he knew no dude could hear this song at the same time he had a half-naked chick this hot in his lap and not get aroused as fuck.
“Do you even know who I am?” I demanded, my nose an inch from Katie’s.
She swallowed. “You’re Jesse Mayes.”
“Right. What does that mean to you?”
Blank. Big blue-greens blinking at me. “Um… what do you mean?”
“Do. You. Know. Who. I. Am.”
“Um… yeah,” she said, her voice getting smaller. “You’re Jesse Fucking Mayes. You play lead guitar for Dirty and you just put out a solo album.” She looked embarrassed, guarded, and maybe a little annoyed. “Is there something else I should know?”
I stared at her, totally fucking bewildered. Maybe because it’d been so long since I’d had a chick in my lap who wasn’t full-out, tits-up star-struck. Actually, not sure I’d ever had a chick in my lap who wasn’t star-struck, since I was already a musician by the time I started getting chicks in my lap.
Hell, even Elle had stars in her eyes when we fucked, and she was probably more famous than I was.
“I thought you were fucking struck, sweetheart,” I said, trying like hell to figure her out. “That look you gave Zane, seen it like a million times.”
“Struck?” She looked at me kinda blankly again. “What do you mean, struck?”
“You know, dumbstruck. Star-struck. Cock-struck.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she wriggled a little in my lap like she was trying to put more distance between us. No fucking chance. My fingers dug into her sweet hips, holding her there. “Um… no,” she said.
And fuck me, but I believed her.
She was breathing heavier though, and that blush I was starting to like one fuck of a lot was creeping down her chest.
She looked flustered as hell.
And I was suddenly stiff.
What the fuck was happening?
“No?” My hands twitched, tightening, gripping her hips harder. Probably bruising her.
“Sorry.” She swallowed. “That I’m not… cock-struck.”
I licked my lips like a fucking puppy. This girl was giving whole new meaning to the term. Because my cock was struck. I was hard as fuck. Luckily the girl was still looking in my eyes and hadn’t noticed the hard-on a mere breath away from the lace covering her clit.
“Um… I’m confused, though,” she said. “Is it Zane’s cock or yours that I’m supposed to be cock-struck for?” Then her teeth caught on her plump pink bottom lip and I almost fucking groaned aloud.
Was I fucking stupid? Was I just jaded as fuck? Because it never even occurred to me that the girl wasn’t angling for at least one of us.
“Dylan?” I said, swallowing hard.
“Um… I dig the kilt and all, but no.” She leaned in, wrapping her arms around my neck, breathing her hot little breaths in my near. “Before last week,” she whispered all breathless, like she was asking me to eat her pussy, “I didn’t know a one of you existed.”
Fuck. Did she have any idea how much she was turning me on?
“Jesse,” Liv called out. “Can we get rolling?”
“Yeah,” I said, never taking my eyes off Katie’s. The tiniest smile twitched at the corners of her pink mouth. I had no idea what I was seeing in those big blue-greens. I thought I had this girl all figured out.
I thought wrong. So fucking wrong it made my dick throb.
Apparently I liked being fucking wrong.
“Good, Katie?” Liv asked. “Let’s see some more of that heat.”
Katie smiled over her shoulder, to camera, and said, “Yes, ma’am,” as sweet as could be.
Then she turned to me and whispered in my ear, “Maybe if I channel ’cock-struck’ it’ll make her happy.”
And as soon as we were filming again, she lifted her hips and shoved her pussy against me like she suddenly couldn’t stand a fucking thing between us… other than my dick, which she’d sat herself directly on. My incredibly hard dick, which she clearly wasn’t expecting.
Her eyes went huge and her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t back off.
Which was fine with me.
Then Dirty Like Me kicked in and right on cue I opened my mouth… and choked.
Nothing came out.
For the first time in ten fucking years, I forgot the lyrics.
I forgot the lyrics.
Katie Bloom stared at me, her plump pink lips parted in surprise, and I couldn’t fucking help it.
I leaned in and kissed her. Hard.
CHAPTER 5
KATIE
His molasses-dark gaze melted over me, his lips parting as he drew a shaky breath. I could feel the tension of his restraint in his hard, muscular body hovering over mine. His skin was getting slippery. A bead of sweat rolled slowly down his temple; I wondered if the camera caught it.
I clung to him, my fingernails digging into his muscled back as his hips pressed me to the bed. He moved against me, thrusting his hard length against the softness of my inner thigh, nothing but the soft cotton of his underwear between us. Then he did it again. Harder. Slower. My breath caught as the tip of his cock brushed my clit through the lace of my panties. Rihanna’s Rude Boy started playing.
My eyes opened with a jolt.
Next to me, my dog nuzzled into the crook of my knee.
Fuck me.
I was doing it again. Reliving every steamy, breathless, lip-biting moment of my fake make out with Jesse Mayes at his video shoot, in my dreams.
I let out a hard sigh and rubbed my eyes. At least this time I didn’t come in my sleep.
My dog continued to molest my knee with his sloppy tongue to the tune of Rude Boy.
“Ugh. Max.” I rolled over, tussling Max’s ears and giving him a gentle shove off the bed.
My best friend’s ringtone stopped abruptly.
I groped around on my bedside table for my glasses, then my phone. Devi had texted me when I missed her call. It said simply, Number One, Baby!
Devi had been tirelessly tracking absolutely everything to do with the Dirty Like Me video since its release two weeks ago. If anything even remotely related to my appearance in that video was mentioned in some random, dusty corner of the internet, Devi had a Google Alert for it.
And no, the video wasn’t “Number One.” Not exactly. But…
I opened the text that had come in last night from Maggie, who’d also been keeping me updated, on a more casual but factually accurate basis. Her text included a YouTube link and a more specific report.
Just surpassed November Rain.
My heart did a weird sledgehammer thing, which it’d been doing a lot lately.
I flopped on my back and stared at the big crack in my bedroom ceiling, the one that occasionally leaked and my landlord kept promising to fix. I swore it was kind of wiggling around. The whole room was vibrating, like a tiny freight train was doing circles around my skull, which was pretty much how I always felt after drinking red wine.
It seemed premature, to me, to be celebrating when we weren’t actually “Number One,” but Devi had all the excuse she needed to break out several pitchers of Sangria last night.
“Slash,” my drunken best friend kept saying. “You beat Slash.”
She was totally pumped about the fact that, according to Maggie, Guns N’ Roses’ November Rain was the most-watched rock video on YouTube, like, ever—until a certain video starring Jesse Mayes and, um, me, came along.
Now, Dirty Like Me held that honor.
I texted Devi back. Work now. Talk later.
Her response buzzed before I could put the phone down. Meet you there! You’re a star!!!!!
That was followed by about fifty happy face emojis with stars in their eyes.
I groaned and tossed my phone aside. Then I stretched my achy, probably-still-a-little-drunk body and sat up.
Unlike Devi, who was dreaming up all the fabulous modeling jobs I should try out for, I was in denial about this whole thing. It was just too much to wrap my head around the fact that I was now holding company with the likes of Rihanna and Adele—other women whose videos were watched as much as mine was, and oh yeah, were so famous they went by only one name. Kinda like Jesse Mayes’ real girlfriend, Elle.
Not that I was that famous, but still.
Fucking weird.
At least all those women had actual talent. Not only did I not particularly want to be famous, I very particularly did not want to be famous for doing absolutely nothing but putting on some lacy underwear and getting groped by a rock star. Which I now kinda was.
While I contemplated this, Max whined and snuffled my foot.
“Yeah, Max. I know. Pee and food.”
I gave myself three more seconds to be weirded out by all of it, then dragged my ass off the bed. Because even though I was some kind of music video sensation out there in internet land, in real life I was still a regular girl with bills to pay, no boyfriend—rock star or otherwise—and a job to do. A crappy job, but still.
And a dog to take outside to pee.
◊◊◊
It was a gorgeous mid-summer morning, trees heavy with blossoms and the air sweet with the scent of freshly-mowed grass. The sun was already blazing out of a flawless blue sky. Max jogged alongside my skateboard as I rolled to work, tongue lolling contentedly out the side of his mouth.
Really, my life was pretty good.
By that I meant my life, not the life of that girl in the video who got to roll around in bed with Jesse Mayes. Because clearly that life didn’t exist, as evidenced by the fact that once we were finished shooting it, I never saw him again.
That didn’t mean my life hadn’t changed at all.
I was still the same person, but now I had little kids coming up to me asking for my autograph, jealo
us chicks giving me catty stare-downs and random guys hitting on me a lot more than they used to. I’d even gone on a few dates. They weren’t exactly earth-shattering or anything, but really, one could hardly expect regular, mortal dudes to compare with Jesse Fucking Mayes. Which was okay. Once the overwhelming memories of my hours in bed with him eventually dissipated, and the crazy, sexy dreams stopped, I was sure to find someone super cool who’d rock my world, right?
Or so I’d been telling myself to get over the feeling that the most thrilling thing I’d ever done, and may ever do, was over. And it wasn’t happening again.
Forget about it, I told myself, part of my new daily mantra. It was cool. It was crazy. It was brief.
It’s done.
Welcome to reality. It’s not so bad.
My sister’s place was a beautifully maintained heritage house in Mount Pleasant, less than five minutes from my apartment, where Nudge Coffee Bar occupied the front rooms. If I thought I could get away with it, I would’ve rolled right on past and taken Max for a longer cruise around the neighborhood, but I was already running late, thanks to my red wine hangover. So I turned my skateboard and rolled on up the sidewalk toward the house.
I noticed the big dude out front right away. Kinda hard to miss. Over six feet, muscles bulging from his sleeveless black shirt. He was wearing dark shades and leaning on a black luxury car parked in the no-parking zone, and for a dude with a giant tattoo of a gnarly tree running up one arm he kinda had the vibe of a Secret Service agent. Or maybe a bodyguard…
Holy shit.
I rolled to a halt.
A rock star was sitting on the stairs to the front porch of my sister’s house. Which would explain all the vibrating my cell phone was doing in my ass pocket on the way here. Kinda regretting ignoring that now.
He was wearing shades so I wasn’t sure he’d seen me yet. He had a takeout coffee cup in hand and I started rapidly calculating the odds that he’d just happened by for coffee. Then his head tilted in my direction and a dazzling smile broke out on his face. He stood and started walking over to me.
Shit.
I looked away for a sec to get my bearings. I was in the right place, right? I was awake, right? This wasn’t just another horny dream where we were about to go at it on the hood of his car while his bodyguard watched and then I woke up in a sweaty heap, alone with my dog?
Dirty Like Me Page 4
