Bootycall

by J. D. Hawkins

  “Come,” he commands harshly. “Come for me. Now.”

  The hot rush gets quicker and quicker until it’s too big to contain, and as I moan “yes, yes, yes,” over and over again, grinding harder and faster against his tongue, something bursts inside of me, releasing waves of glorious pleasure through every pore of my body.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp.

  Dylan doesn’t let up. He gives my pussy one last, big lick, pulling every last drop of my orgasm out, the relief finally making my body sink into the lounge chair, the hotness of my skin replaced by a gentle warmth in my bones.

  When I open my eyes again Dylan is there, leaning over me once again, his eyes a little softer now, but just as sexy. I reach out a hand and brush his chin, and he draws in close for a kiss – a tender one this time, our lips grazing sweetly.

  “That…was…amazing…” I purr.

  “Your pussy is amazing,” Dylan smirks. I can see in his eyes that he’s still hungry, still horny. I notice the bulge in his pants.

  “Wait. But what about you?” I say, my voice slurring as I struggle to regain all my senses again.

  Dylan reaches an arm under my neck, and puts another under my knees. He lifts me up with ease, holding me tight against his body, and turns toward the roof exit.

  “It’s ok,” he says, rolling his eyes along my body, “the night’s still young.”

  Chapter 3

  Dylan

  I’ve always been the kind of guy who can hold his liquor, but the taste of a woman brings out the animal in me. The girl in my arms has lips that taste as fresh as fruit, and a pussy so fucking sweet I’m still savoring the aftertaste.

  And I’ve only just begun to show her what I’m made of.

  I take her into the bedroom. Though it’s a little cliché for me, the room is worth it. Every surface from the thick textures of the expensive carpet to the silk sheets on the low, Japanese-style bed screams luxury, decadence, and sex – just like the girl in my arms.

  It’s not just the need in her eyes or the lush curves of her body, or even the way she came so loudly on my roof five minutes ago. There’s something real about her that’s got me more turned on than I’ve been in…longer than I can remember. She’s not my usual one night stand.

  Even still, this will all be over by the morning. So I’m gonna give her a night to remember.

  I place her on the bed and lay beside her, taking a moment to appreciate just how fucking beautiful her eyes are, how full of naked desire. I brush back the lock of dark blonde hair that hangs over her face as she nuzzles into my arm and sinks into the soft sheets. Her body tenses hot against mine, ready to go all over again. Which is a damn good thing, because—

  And then the phone rings.

  I ignore it, but she doesn’t.

  “You gonna answer that?” she says, suddenly waking from her sexual stupor.

  “Right now I wouldn’t answer the door if the whole fucking LAPD showed up,” I say, moving in closer.

  She shuffles back.

  “It could be important.”

  I frown at her.

  “I’m not in prison, my mother’s already dead, and I’ve met the President. So right now, it’s inconceivable that that phone call could be more important than me sucking the ever-loving shit out of your neck.”

  I move in closer, and she lets me for a split-second, before pushing me away again.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just really neurotic about that kinda thing. I can’t listen to a phone ringing on and on and not worry that it’s—”

  “Ok,” I interrupt her, rolling over onto my back and foraging into my jeans pocket for my phone. I’m so fucking hard that I almost yank my cock out instead. “It’s my agent.”

  She flashes an apologetic grin at me, and I roll my eyes as I answer.

  “Hello Larry. Your timing is fucking awful, as always,” I say, getting up from the bed and making my way to the large glass doors that lead out onto the gigantic terrace.

  “You asked for it. I made it so.”

  Larry was never one to let an opportunity to tease out his own praise pass him by– then again, no agent in Hollywood is.

  “What do you mean?” Regardless of whatever the news is, the only thing I wanna be doing right now is that woman in my bed, and I’m running out of patience.

  “I mean: I’ve just put you back on the map, Dylan.”

  I shake my head.

  “I’m still not following.”

  I slide open the glass doors and step outside into the cool air. It’s a nice terrace; wood-paneled floors, a hot tub to the side, and a view that makes you feel like you’re standing inside a postcard.

  “I got you a movie, Dylan.”

  I walk out onto the edge of the terrace and lean out over the railing.

  “Well that’s good. Um…thanks. I guess I’ll drop by in the morning and you can tell me all about it.”

  “No,” Larry says, cutting me off, “no, no, no. This is not what you’re thinking. This is big. I got you the – I repeat – the movie of the year.”

  I look back through the glass doors and see the blonde girl walking around my room, touching the wood grain on the side tables, looking around at everything, and making her way into bathroom. “Ok,” I say, reluctantly. “Tell me all about it now, then. I’m all ears.”

  “Good,” Larry says, approvingly and patronizingly. “I’m gonna say two words now, Dylan. And please try not to scream like a cheerleader when I do, ok?”

  About four seconds of silence follows.

  “Christopher. West.”

  For a moment, time stops. Holy mother of God. There’s not a movie this guy has touched that hasn’t been a huge fucking blockbuster, commercially and critically successful. He’s not just some fast-talking Hollywood big shot, either; people really respect him. He has vision, talent, and most importantly—balls. I can barely keep the awe out of my voice. “He’s producing?”

  “He’s directing.”

  I rub a hand over my face and then bite my fist. This is big. This is very fucking big.

  “Well what does he want me for? Irish gangster number three?”

  “No Dylan,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect so well it makes you wonder why he doesn’t act himself, “you’re the lead.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are.”

  The words sink in. I’m dizzy. “Holy fuck.”

  “Exactly.”

  I look back towards the bedroom. The beautiful blonde is opening the sliding doors. She flashes me a smile, and I manage to wipe the shocked look off of my face and smile back as she makes her way over to the hot tub. Luckily the terrace is big enough that I can move to the other side and she won’t hear how fucking surprised I am.

  “What the fuck’s going on, Larry?” I whisper, almost aggressively. “Was there food-poisoning at a scientology meet-up? A bad batch of cocaine delivered to an awards show? Why isn’t anybody else getting this role? I can think of about a dozen people even I’d rather have doing his movie than me.”

  “I haven’t got a clue either, Dylan. He’s a temperamental, unpredictable genius, and that’s what temperamental, unpredictable geniuses do. He wants you. He said you have an energy, a ‘presence.’ Authenticity, or whatever. He said something about ‘raw, undiluted talent.’”

  “He’s probably the only one who thinks that anymore.”

  “He is,” Larry says, a bit too quickly for my liking. “Apart from me, of course. But this won’t be easy. The producers, some members of the cast and crew, pretty much everyone else who knows about this doesn’t want to work with you. You’ve got a pretty well-known, and –I think we both know— pretty well-deserved, reputation.”

  I watch as the girl walks over to the hot tub, flicks off her heels, and sits on the edge, submerging her feet under the still water. Christ, she looks fucking good. I almost forget what I’m even standing here on the phone talking about.

  “Look, this is pre
tty much your last chance. You’ve gone from, ‘Dylan Marlowe is gonna be huge,’ to, ‘Shame about Dylan Marlowe,’ and now it’s all, ‘Is this Dylan Marlowe’s big comeback?’ and you’re one bad story, one mediocre performance, away from, ‘Remember Dylan Marlowe?’ This changes everything.”

  She’s looking back at me now, a little playfulness in her smile. She licks her lips – not even noticing that she’s doing so – and swipes that hair behind her ear again. I grin back at her, the heat in my pants boiling and rolling like I’m holding back lava. There’s still the faint taste of her in my mouth, but it’s fading fast – I need another hit.

  “You’re a great actor,” Larry continues, “an artistic soul, yadda yadda – but you’re a shitty worker, Dylan. Beyond an opportunity like this, a director who has the power to call his own shots, and the ability to see that what you’ve got is rare, I don’t see any other way you’ll make it. This is golden, Dylan.”

  “I hear you,” I say, exchanging winks and smiles with the blonde.

  “Good. Now you’re going to go have a meeting with the writers and producers tomorrow morning – I know it’s soon, but what these people want, these people get. I’ll text you the details. I’ll also courier you the script, ok?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Larry sighs. “Ok. Well, you’re on your own now, Dylan. I’m your agent, not your babysitter. Just remember what I always tell you: Lay off the drinking, don’t go to any parties unless it’s good for your career, and never, ever record yourself having—”

  “No sex tapes. Yeah, I know. Thanks Larry. I appreciate it. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Godspeed.”

  I click off the phone and turn my full attention to the girl sitting on the edge of my tub. I walk towards her, slowly, so that I can take in the full effect of her sexy curves and shimmering skin.

  I get within a few feet of her, our eyes still locked, her mouth still smiling and wet. I stick my hands in my pockets and lean up against the wall.

  “You look like you’ve made yourself pretty comfortable.”

  She nods, and I remember that I never finished tracing my share of the soft, tender skin along the nape of her neck.

  “I am. I’m feeling pretty good,” she says.

  “You want to feel even better?” I reply, taking a step towards her.

  Her lips pout and her eyes narrow, imbuing her face with an allure that could make a lesser man crumble.

  “How do you intend to do that?” she asks.

  I take her hand and draw her gently out of the tub.

  “It’s better when it’s a surprise,” I say, as she stands in front of me, slightly tense, a little hint of those nerves re-entering her body.

  I crouch in front of her, enjoying the short, sharp gasp she emits as I do so. My hands touch her thighs gently, smoothly stroking them up to the hem of her dress, which I grab between my fingers and lift as I stand, pulling the fabric all the way up and over her body.

  In the dress she looked fucking amazing, but out of it she looks magnificent.

  Most women have to pose to show their curves off. They make the most of their assets by bending over, curving a leg, pulling back their shoulders to push their tits forward – this girl doesn’t need to do any of that. Her body’s so fucking perfect that the curves sweep in and out like brush strokes, like the kinds of lines architects and engineers take many years and millions of dollars to create.

  I stand behind her, taking in that mind-blowing ass. She draws her hands around her thighs up the ass cheeks, gently pulling them up, and letting them fall back into glorious place, letting me fully appreciate just how fucking firm and tight it is.

  “Do you like?” she asks, her voice wet and dripping.

  “You know,” I say as I take in every arousing sway of her hips, “for a girl who was too shy even for phone sex just a couple of hours ago, you sure learn fast.”

  “Maybe it’s the alcohol,” she purrs, smiling. “Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe it’s you.”

  I press up behind her, my fingers flicking off the hook in her bra and tossing it away.

  “Whatever it is,” I say, my mouth hot and breathy in her ear, my hands cupping her tits and pulling her slim body up against my chest, “don’t stop doing it. I like it. I really fucking like it.”

  When she’s starting to melt against me, her breaths short and her toes curling, I pull away from her, my hand taking hers. As I turn her to face me her hair drops, splaying out like kicked snow and settling around her shoulders like licks of flame. She raised her hand to her hair and looks around, surprised.

  “Told you I’d see you with your hair down,” I say, raising the hair clip I removed during her passion.

  She takes a lock of hair and twirls it coquettishly, her head down, her eyes looking up at me through the dirty-blonde waves.

  “Are you going to give it back?”

  I look at the clip, and put it into my back pocket.

  “That depends on whether you’re a good girl.”

  She steps towards me, hands on my chest.

  “I don’t feel like one.”

  “Then I’ll give you something better,” I say, leaning over the hot tub and turning on the jets.

  When I turn to face her again she’s barely an inch away. “Like what?”

  Her mouth twists into a sexual growl and we kiss for a few seconds, tongues gently brushing, before she pulls away.

  “Like this,” I say, wrapping a hand around her neck and pulling her towards the force in my pants that’s been gathering like a hurricane since I first caught a glimpse of those blue eyes.

  She smiles widely as she kneels in front of me, her eyes devilish with lust, her tits heaving with panting anticipation. I watch her slender fingers work the zipper of my jeans apart so eagerly she nearly tears them off. Her hands grab my hips so that she can place her face against the gigantic bulge of my boxer-briefs, like an animal that wants my scent on her.

  Even through the underwear, I can feel the heat of her breath as her mouth presses itself around the curve of my hard-on, her luscious pink lips merging perfectly with flesh so hard it feels like I’m made of steel.

  She grasps at the sides of my boxers like she’s about to fall off a mountain, and yanks them down so hard she leaves scratches with her fingernails on the muscles in my side. My prick emerges, stiff and tall in front of her, making the wild look in her eyes turn almost fierce with excitement. She takes it in those delicate fingers and watches me as she runs her tongue towards the tip. I let out a groan as she rolls her lips over my shaft, pulling me into the back of her mouth and sucking softly, and then harder, working her tongue up and down the length of my cock.

  “God,” I say, as she finishes off another long, deep suck that stokes the fire burning inside of me even hotter, “you’ve got the sweetest fucking mouth.”

  When her hands start working my balls, it takes everything I’ve got to hold back. I feel like I’m walking on the slimmest tightrope in the world, and I want to stay up here for every second I can – because this is glorious. When I look down again, and see my cock buried into her beautiful face, her elegant back and round ass extending away like a breath-taking vista, I have to pull her away – I wanna milk this moment for every drop of pleasure it’s got, and there’s a lot of pleasure in this girl.

  I grip her hair tightly and guide her face to mine, hungrily biting her lips as she continues to clutch my cock in her hand.

  “You ready for something special?” I say, in the few seconds we’re not drawn together as if magnetized by each other’s tongues.

  She leans her head over my shoulder, her tongue licking the tip of my ear.

  “Give it to me,” she whispers, in a voice so dirty it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen.

  I smack my hands against her ass cheeks and pull her up on me, guiding her thighs around my waist until her legs envelop me, my cock tantalizingly close to her pussy. She clings to me hard, squeezing her
tits against my face while she bites at the side of my neck.

  I turn around and start getting into the hot tub, the girl wrapped tightly around me, my face pressed between her amazing tits while she flicks her head aside and sinks her teeth into my shoulder muscles. I lower both of us into the rolling water, and we break apart as the heat and the bubbles release the tension in our bodies.

  I grab her arm and gently turn her around so that her back is to me, then guide her towards the edge. She tilts her head back onto my shoulder as I press my body up against her, my rod-like cock nestling between her ass crack. I embrace her tightly with both arms, one of my hands teasing her nipple. As I roll my finger around it, pinching and pulling softly, she moves her ass up and down, clenching my cock between it.

  “You ready for the flood?” I breathe into her ear, as I reach over to the hot tub controls.

  Fast streams of bubbles fizz from the hot tub jets and onto her pussy, brushing and rolling over all the sweet spots.

  “Oh my God. Oh, fuck,” she gasps, her hands clinging to the sides.

  The jets push her backwards against me, but I press her forward firmly, chest against her back, cock against her ass. I search her ear out with my tongue as she winds her head around with the waves of pleasure the hot tub jets send throbbing through her.

  She moans like a woman losing control of herself, struggling to catch her breath between the sighs and sounds that start from the center of her body.

  “I wanna take you higher,” I growl, turning the dial to make the jets flow even wider, enjoying the way her moans get louder and more frantic. “I want to take you higher than you’ve ever been. I want to make you scream. I want to make you lose control of yourself. A body like yours deserves it.”

  Despite the iron grip she’s got on the edge, her body is thrusting and moving as she rides the jets; swinging between the millions of soft, dancing bubbles and my hard, immovable body. I squeeze into her a little more, pushing her against the jets as they gush over her entire body, tracing all the beautiful muscles that have been teasing me all fucking evening.