Brit Flick Sweethearts: A Rom-Com With Spanking

by Samantha Hyde

  “Yeah,” she answered, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze without even realising she had even done so. “Let’s fucking do this.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Dahlia reached out to hold his hand, something twisted inside Curt’s heart. It was almost like an actual physical pain.

  How strange.

  He snatched his hand away and shrugged on his jacket. Dahlia’s tears and remnants of vomit had dried and wouldn’t seep through to his jacket.

  Doris had turned the colour of his shirt and he wondered if she would chuck up on the red carpet as well.

  What the hell is with her, he wondered. She seems so different, like another woman entirely. Nothing like the drug taking tart I knew on the set of Brick Face.

  “I’ll get out first, then I’ll come round and open your door.”

  She nodded mutely.

  God, this was just so odd. Dahlia was, without doubt, the biggest attention seeker he had ever met. He had never seen this sensitive, vulnerable side to her personality before. He had almost fallen of his seat when she had actually blushed. There was no way she could’ve been embarrassed, that would involve an entire personality transplant. Dahlia was utterly shameless. So he guessed it was sexual arousal. It was nice to know she still wanted him because he sure as shit still wanted her. More than ever. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever being this attracted to her.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  How could she be scared? This was the woman that happily got her tits out for any photo shoot that required it, the woman who had made sure all eyes were on her all the time on the film set of ‘Brick Face.’

  “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”

  She really is bringing out my protective instincts, he thought wryly. It’s probably an act to get me into bed.

  As if she needs to put on an act to accomplish that…

  A vivid image of fucking Dahlia sprang into his head. It had been fun, but she had been a bit ‘porn star’ for his tastes, all fake moaning and groaning hiding her fundamental coldness. But did she ever have a body to die for, there was no two ways about it. And that face. God. It had haunted his dreams like no other before or since.

  Her face is different too, he thought. It wasn’t anything that he could put his finger on. Maybe she’d had a chemical peel or something, because her complexion definitely looked brighter. But it was more than that. Her face was softer, somehow. The big cheekbones and slightly angular jaw line was still the same, but it looked less severe.

  Curt was puzzled.

  I don’t know, maybe she’s had plastic surgery or something.

  But he had to say, he preferred her with a bit of meat on her. The sight of those full tits spilling out of her dress had almost made him come in his pants. He almost regretted his jibe about her being fat. She looked amazing with curves, far better than she had ever looked before.

  He shook his head slightly. Why was he even going down this road? What the hell was wrong with him?

  Without further thought he got out of the limo to the glare and pop of flashbulbs. It was a big turnout. A huge crowd gathered around the length of red carpet for the film premiere of the biggest British film of 2014. It wasn’t doing bad in America either, and had propelled Curt into superstardom pretty much over night.

  And he wasn’t sure he liked it.

  He smiled for the cameras, for all the people screaming his name to get him to look in their direction.

  When he opened the passenger door for Dahlia, he saw how terrified she looked. Her big blue eyes were opened wide in terror and that full, naturally red mouth, painted even redder, hung open slightly in shock.

  Shit, it looks like she’s about to keel over...

  He reached in and took hold of her tiny, cold hand.

  “I won’t let go,” he mouthed.

  The crowd erupted when she emerged from the limo, hand in hand with her leading man.

  He gave her hand a little squeeze and they began the walk down the red carpet. She seemed so short next to him, even shorter than usual. She looked as vulnerable and as beautiful as Marilyn Monroe.

  He decided to take back what he said about her being a wooden actress. Because this was surely the performance of a lifetime.

  “Curt! Dahlia! Over here!” screamed a hundred photographers and journalists.

  The flash bulbs went pop and he felt Dahlia edge closer to him.

  A man with a microphone was leaning far over the railing. “Over here!” he shouted above the din.

  Curt steered his leading lady over in his direction. He recognised the logo on the microphone as being a major television network. He knew he had to ‘work the press,’ to quote his agent.

  “How do you guys feel about Brick Face storming the box office?” the man shouted.

  “We’re thrilled, aren’t we Dahlia?”

  “Yes. Thrilled,” she said in a small voice.

  “Do you two have any more projects lined up together?”

  “Nothing in the immediate future, but never say never, right?”

  “Speaking of which Curt, are the rumours true? Are you lined up to play the next Bond?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he said, knowing full there was talk of it.

  “Dahlia!” screamed another journalist from the other side of the carpet. Curt led Dahlia in his direction. “I see you two are holding hands. The question everyone here is dying to ask is, are you two an item?”

  What Curt did next was completely out of the blue, and came as a surprise, even to him. The way she was trembling by his side, how beautiful she looked, the adrenalin coursing through him, it all conspired to make him swoop her down in an old fashioned, Hollywood style clinch.

  The roar of the crowd was deafening.

  “Does that answer your question?” he asked casually when he broke off the kiss.

  When he glanced down at Dahlia, she looked positively shell shocked. God, she was adorable tonight.

  He pulled her close to him so they walked the remainder of the carpet with his hand firmly around her waist, stopping to talk to various reporters and to pose for numerous photographs.

  “Why on earth did you do that?” she hissed once they were inside the theatre.

  “Because if I didn’t find an excuse to hold you up you would’ve keeled over on the red carpet and made both of us look like ninnys. To use your words.”

  Except he knew that wasn’t it. The thought of never seeing her again after this film premiere was over was too awful. Now the press had linked them up, he was bound to see her again through necessity.

  “Oh come on Dahlia, don’t give me that look, this will do wonders for both of our careers, and isn’t that what you want more than anything?”

  He fell silent when they were approached by some smooth guy in a suit and they were swept along into the theatre to watch their film.

  The after show party was a glamorous, glitzy affair and Doris did her best not to feel overwhelmed.

  She suspected that she was failing miserably. Curt didn’t leave her side all evening, steering her round to various people that were bigwigs in the film industry. She spotted a fair few celebrities too and she did her best not to stare.

  Again, she failed miserably.

  “What is it with you?” Curt asked, the amusement in his voice all too obvious when he caught her staring for the millionth time. “Christ, that one is only a newsreader for the Beeb, what’s so fascinating about her?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, feeling the hot blush stain her cheeks.

  But that wasn’t to say she wasn’t enjoying herself. It felt so good to be hanging off Curt’s arm. What woman didn’t secretly or not so secretly dream of such a thing? And once she relaxed, she let her natural sweetness and intelligence surface and she exchanged light banter with all she met as they did the circuit of the room.

  The flowing champagne helped too.

  “Darling, you were amazing as the android,” said a face she recognis
ed from TV who was a very camp presenter.

  “You’re too kind,” she gushed back, allowing herself to be air kissed on each cheek. “Playing a being with no emotion or thoughts of my own came easily to me.”

  The man laughed. “You must do a spot on my show darling.”

  As much as Doris was holding her own, as glamorous as this all was, it really wasn’t for her. Inside, she felt like a fish out of water. This was Dahlia’s life, not hers, and she had no desire to swap.

  It was safe to say that she and Dahlia were not close, not since they had been kids, anyway. When Dahlia had discovered modelling and acting, she had left her younger twin (by ten minutes) far behind. In their late teens, Dahlia had done her best to convince Doris to join her in the modelling industry but Doris was having none of it. Dahlia had begged and cajoled and pleaded, but Doris was unmoveable. Dahlia claimed that identical twins in the modelling industry with looks like theirs were pretty much guaranteed success.

  Doris said no. Many times.

  Dahlia had never been right with her since, avoiding her at Christmas and never returning her calls. Doris had been sad that her sister no longer wanted anything to do with her, but a part of her was also glad. She hated the thought of the press latching on to the fact that Dahlia had a twin. To keep the fact that Dahlia had a twin sister out of the press took some doing, but then, Jeremy was the best in the land. Spin doctor and agent extraordinaire, if he wanted to leak to the press that the earth was flat then people would probably buy it. He wasn’t nicknamed ‘The Shark’ for nothing.

  Doris thought that she would die if she had Dahlia’s lifestyle. And she was only doing this now because her sister needed her.

  It wasn’t long before Jeremy sidled up to her. Doris was short, but Jeremy was even shorter, barely even coming up to her shoulders.

  “Fantastic publicity stunt,” he said, steering her out of Curt’s firm grip.

  She could feel Curt’s eyes boring into her back when he led her away out of his hearing range.

  “Hello Jeremy, did I do OK? Are people buying it?”

  “Buying it? Sweetie, you’re doing fabulously. Damn it, you’re even better than the real thing. You’ve got this whole, Marilyn Monroe vulnerability thing going on and the press are going crazy. There are loads of interviews lined up for you and Curt.”

  “Interviews? You didn’t say I would have to do interviews. Just this premiere and then it would be over.”

  “Yeah, well, I may have bent the truth just a little. Oh, don’t give me that look, this is all for your sister’s sake. She’ll be back to take over the reigns as soon as she’s out of rehab and you can disappear back into oblivion you came from. I must say, that was a genius move on Curt’s part, his and Dahlia’s careers are going to sky rocket because of it.”

  His words hurt her, even though they shouldn’t have done. She wasn’t entirely stupid, she knew Curt only said they were an item to further his career, but for a moment there, it had felt really good standing so close to him as his girlfriend.

  She sighed deeply. How immature and stupid of her to think like that, even for a second.

  “Have you two finished?” Curt said, coming up to them and draping his arm protectively around her waist.

  The possessive gesture made her stomach flip, and then she chided herself for such a juvenile reaction.

  If she wasn’t careful, she was in danger of developing a schoolgirl crush, and that simply wouldn’t do.

  “I’m just briefing my client,” Jeremy said. “Great publicity stunt, by the way.”

  Curt’s eyes narrowed. If Doris didn’t know better, she would say he was offended.

  But that was silly, it was probably just his naturally surly expression.

  “Thanks. Is the transport waiting at the backdoor? I think me and Dahlia are done here. We have things we need to discuss with regards to out newfound relationship.”

  Jeremy looked at Doris with something close to concern in his little eyes. But just as quick it was gone again, because the only thing Jeremy was concerned about was money. And specifically, how much money Dahlia could make him, especially as she was by far his hottest money cow right now.

  “Fine. Dahlia? Are you happy to share a limo with Curt?”

  “Yes,” she said, her heart tripping wildly and her mouth suddenly dry. “That would be fine.”

  “Then I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll run through all those interviews we’ve got lined up for you two lovebirds.”

  He dropped them a wink and left them to it.

  Curt placed a hand under her elbow and steered her towards the exit.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Curt was staying at The Ritz. He lived in London but it was easier with all the interviews and the endless entourage of people that insisted on dressing him and fannying around with his hair and endless other crap if he stayed in a hotel. He really didn’t want all these people in his home. He preferred to keep his home life separate from work life.

  He made sure that the limo driver stopped at his hotel first.

  “Come up for a night cap,” he said.

  “I think I’ve drunk enough for one night.”

  “Then I’ll make you a coffee. Please. We need to talk about the upcoming interviews and stuff.”

  Please? Since when did Curt Gunner have to beg a woman to come up to his hotel room?

  Even in the dark night, he saw the hesitation in her eyes, the flicker of doubt that showed she was genuinely close to refusing.

  “OK, fine. Just for five minutes.”

  He hadn’t realised he had been holding his breath and his shoulders sagged in relief. He threw open his door before she changed her mind.

  Once in his hotel room, she perched nervously on the edge of the bed. Curt shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the ornate, red and gold, high back chair.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” she asked primly.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked, loosening his tie and discarding that too.

  “Yes. A coffee please.”

  Coffee? Since when had Dahlia Dean ever asked for a coffee when alcohol was on offer? She was just so God damn strange tonight.

  “You’ve been acting so strangely tonight. Tell me, what gives?”

  She shifted in obvious discomfort in her ultra-straight backed sitting position on the bed.

  “This was a mistake. I should never have come up to your room. I’m sorry.”

  She got up to leave but he held onto her forearm. Just touching her in such an innocent way thrilled him. She sat still, unable to disguise her trembling.

  “You’re here because you want me as much as I want you.”

  “No,” she whispered, the way her body gently shook telling him otherwise.

  “I’ve never seen you this way before, so nervous, so full of desire.”

  “No,” she said, again, none too convincingly.

  He silenced her feeble protests with his mouth, pushing her backwards onto the bed with his big body.

  The way she quivered and trembled beneath him unleashed his inner beast. He wanted to do things to her. He hadn’t gone there the one and only time they had fucked in his trailer on the film set.

  Curt had more unconventional sexual tastes. But at the same time, he wasn’t insensitive about his sexual preferences. He could please a woman in bed along with the best of them, and he could always sense when a woman was up for a little bit of spanking and light bondage, and when she wasn’t.

  And last time, Dahlia hadn’t been. Generally speaking, the nosier the woman, and the more forward she was, the less adventurous she was in bed.

  Now Dahlia was trembling beneath him like a rare, precious flower and the surge of dominance he felt was all consuming. Easily he pinned her little hands above her head with one big hand and leisurely let his eyes feast on her delightful, but unfortunately still clothed, body.

  He shucked out one of her tits through the easily accessible opening of the neckline of her
dress and latched his mouth onto her nipple.

  Her soft groan of want was music to his ears and his cock swelled to the aching maximum when her small pink nipple hardened in his mouth.

  He kissed down the top part of her stomach that was exposed but could get no further because of the damn dress.

  With a growl he pulled her into a sitting position and yanked the dress down her torso. A small gasp of desperate need escaped his lips at the sight of her. Which was so unlike him. He never let his desire take control but right at that moment, he could feel his resolve ebbing away.

  He felt an irrational surge of anger at her for threatening his self-control. It wasn’t her fault, he knew it, but no woman had ever made him feel like that before.

  He knew he was being a little rough to overcompensate, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He pulled the dress over her rump, even though she was still sitting on it, yanking it down her legs and throwing it to one side.

  She sat there in just her panties, soft and voluptuous, her alabaster skin inviting his touch. The excess weight suited her. The sight of her slightly rounded stomach inexplicably brought a lump to his throat.

  She was definitely all woman and driving him fucking insane.

  He ran his fingers lightly down one arm and her skin instantly goosebumped at his touch. He could take this visual teasing no more and threw her down on the bed, cupping her tits in his hands and burying his face in them. He could feel the flutter of her heart against his nose and mouth, like a trapped butterfly.

  He knew that she would be wet for him. His nostrils flared and his mouth watered at the mere thought of burying his tongue in her sweet and ready cunt. He kissed along the protruding ribs of her concave ribcage, down to the soft swell of her tummy.

  “No,” she gasped.

  No?

  Curt heard the word, but he didn’t hear it.

  “Please, don’t make me do this.”

  That penetrated his lust fogged brain. He didn’t make any woman do anything she didn’t want to do, period. They always offered themselves up to him as helpless, willing sacrifices.