Bad Boy vs Millionaire

by Candy J. Starr

  He cupped one hand around the microphone while the other steadied his guitar.

  “Thanks for coming along tonight,” he said, gazing out over the crowd as though looking for someone. “I'm playing our new song tonight. This song, well I wrote it for someone but she's not here.”

  He ducked his head and the crowd gave a sympathetic “ah”.

  If he means me, then I'm going to kill him. The reason I'm not here is because he didn't want me here, because he was being a big shithead with his ultimatums and his getting all crazy. I bet he was just threatened anyway, because Tamaki was so much better looking than him and because of the whole damn stupid money thing. I wished I’d never had any money. I wished that money didn't even exist.

  The spotlight passed its blue glow over the crowd before settling back on Jack. He picked up his acoustic and played the opening chords. Chords that wrapped around my heart with their sadness.

  Screw him. Why was I feeling sad? It was his way of manipulating people.

  He sang about the woman who took without giving anything in return. The woman whose need expanded to fill every space and who still wanted more. I dug my nails into my palms, feeling the blood pound in my temples. Was that how he saw me? Well, screw him. Screw him big time. I would just leave and never talk to him again. I didn't need him, no matter what he thought.

  Then he went into the chorus, his voice gravelly yet tender, as though he might break into tears at any moment but wouldn't. He sang about the woman with the black hair.

  Hey, that wasn’t me. I was totally blonde. Unless he wanted to fool me into thinking that it wasn’t me, which would be damn stupid. Or he sang about another woman?

  An image floated into my brain. Jack and a woman with black hair. The two of them walking in the street, with her hanging off his arm and later, him giving her money, and her laughing face that didn't really seem happy. The woman I later discovered was his mother. Then he'd told me that story that had the ring of truth but might have been all lies about his younger life.

  What was truth and what was lies? I didn't know and I couldn't work it out. The words he sang on stage seem true to me, like they’d come from a place of sadness deep inside him but the honesty he sent out just reminded me more of his betrayals. How he’d taken my sympathy and played with it after I'd been so open with him. There was something there, something that had hurt him. The melody of the song tore my heart to shreds and I knew that couldn't be a lie. Yet, with every woman in the room wanting to sooth the hurt in his eyes, I knew it wasn't fully the truth either. What was the story with his mother?

  As the song came to an end, the sorrowful Jack Colt got swept away. Almost like he wanted to hide away his shame, he grabbed the silver guitar, the phallic Gibson that could grind up the crowd, and belted out an intro of epic force. So harsh that Eric and Spud couldn't catch their breath. The noise made me feel like I was under the ocean, everything distorted and blurring my senses. I shouldn't have come.

  I tried to get things right in my head. I could do the things my dad wanted ― go back to school, date Tamaki, get a normal job. That seemed to make sense but I wondered if my heart would survive if I lived that life, if I could forget Jack Colt and move on.

  I only knew, one way or another, I had to work out my feelings for Jack Colt. He did crazy things to my head. Even knowing all sides of him, even getting angry and never wanting to see him again, I craved him at a primal level. Angie always said I needed to get him out of my system but I’d never been able to do that. It seemed as if every time we got close to doing anything, fate intervened.

  I couldn’t breathe. If the place had air conditioning, they hadn't turned it on or had kept it too low to deal with the mass of people in the room. I got myself a drink. It quenched my thirst but left me feeling hotter inside so I sucked on an ice cube.

  The room buzzed, as I knew it would, as though the weather outside reflected the energy of the crowd. I swayed with the music, lost in a dream. I wanted to lose myself and get as far as way from that fake, bitchy world I’d almost dropped back into for a moment. Was I like Jasmine and Viola? I didn’t think so. But I had been once. That wasn’t the “me” I was now though.

  It seemed like no time at all until they finished playing. I'd had a few drinks, not enough to make me drunk but enough for things to matter less than I’d thought.

  As people left the room, I wondered what to do. I couldn’t go to the band room, since Eric had asked me not to come along. Even though Tamaki hadn’t known I’d be there, I hadn’t known myself, I wanted to look as though I had respected that request.

  I stood by the bar with the drinkers who didn't want to go home, those that wanted to keep drinking and those trying to make plans to go somewhere else.

  When I saw Jack carrying his gear out the back door, I made a move without thinking about it. I followed him out the staff exit. He disappeared around the corner, to a darkly lit alleyway where he'd parked his car. Heat radiated off the concrete buildings around me and exuded off the paver stones. I saw the glow of his cigarette from the darkness behind the car.

  “Hello,” I said in a voice that barely sounded like mine. Suddenly, I realised why I’d gone there and what I wanted.

  Chapter 21. Hannah

  “Where’s your rich boyfriend tonight?” he asked, his voice slow and drawling.

  I leaned against the hood of his car. He slammed the boot shut and moved around to face me.

  “I have no idea. He's not my boyfriend. Well, not really.”

  I didn't explain. I silenced him with a kiss, my hands gripping tightly to his shoulders as though I never wanted to let go. The intensity of his touch made me shudder, melting my bones.

  Hot metal scorched my skin as he pressed me back against the car. I'd imagined it so many times, in so many ways, surrounded by the smell of him with the shadow of him haunting my dreams but never with the real, actual him. The weight pressing against me was the real him and the fingers stroking my face were his real fingers. It wasn't part of a dream. It was really happening. It felt good and I didn't want it to end. But it was an experiment. I was only doing it so I could rid myself of my Jack Colt obsession forever. I could sleep with him once and get him out of my system. That was all it would be.

  I gulped.

  His hands moved down to my waist, gripping tightly into my flesh, while his lips moved from my mouth to my neck. I put my foot on the bumper to balance myself and twisted my fingers in his hair, pulling my lips from his.

  “You know I don't have pure motives for being here. I'm just after the sex. It's nothing more than that, it's not...”

  “Shut up, Hannah,” he said, his mouth covering mine.

  His hands moved to my breast, brushing his fingers over the fabric of my dress. I could hardly bear to talk.

  “I can't give you 100%. Not now. I'm just using you. For your body. It's just lust…”

  He had to understand that it didn't mean anything to me. That it was just a physical thing. I wanted to see if what Angie said was true, that if I had sex with him, I'd get him out of my system. And I wanted to obliterate all traces of the old Hannah. The girl who could never come back.

  “Seriously, shut up.”

  His voice growled in my ear, deep and low. I wanted him to talk again so I could hear that voice. I wanted to feel the tone of his words vibrating in my ear and filling me up inside.

  He leaned closer and whispered to me. “Stop thinking. Stop your brain. Use me all you want. Do dirty things to me.”

  Then he ran his fingers down my body. It tickled, it tickled an insane amount. It made me buck against him and squirm and giggle but it also sent chills of desire through my whole body. I could smell the sweat on his body, manly rock sweat. I wanted to lick that sweat off his naked chest.

  “Are you going to be quiet now?”

  I nodded and he brought his face up close to mine.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded again, biting my lip.

 
His fingers entangled in mine, pushing my arms behind me and planting them firmly on the hood of the car. The tension between us became palpable, neither of us wanting to break it. The seconds ticked over. I could hear my own breath and I could hear his and I could feel the sweat trickling down my body. He stayed stock still, just looking at me, but the hardness of his cock pressed into my flesh.

  “What are you waiting for?” I surprised myself with the impatience in my voice.

  “The phone to ring or a knock on the door or something to happen to interrupt us.”

  “You idiot. There isn’t even a door here.”

  “Who are you calling an idiot?” And he bit me on the earlobe. A sharp nip that caused me to yelp in pain, yet at the same time, shot sparks of lust like I'd never experienced before throughout my whole body. I needed him. I needed him in me right then. I couldn't wait. Nothing would interrupt us this time.

  His hands moved down to my chest and he slowly undid the first button, his calloused fingers caressing my sweat-drenched skin.

  “Faster,” I whispered.

  He laughed. “Oh, Hannah, you’re really gagging for it, aren't you.”

  His kisses became more frenzied; crazy, gulping kisses as we drank each other in while his hands moved over me.

  He grabbed the edge of my dress, one hand each side, and ripped the edges apart, the buttons flying to the ground. I should’ve been angry. I should’ve yelled at him for ruining my dress but something about the masterful way he’d exposed me made me even hotter.

  “Is that fast enough for you, Princess?” His gaze swept over my body as I balanced on the car, in just my bra and a skimpy pair of lacy knickers, and then his hands ran over the soft flesh of my inner thighs.

  He trailed a line of kisses down my stomach, his hair tickling my flesh as he moved. I tried not to moan out loud but I didn’t know how long I could take it. Screw foreplay, I wanted him in me right then. My pussy throbbed with need for him and I wiggled beneath him, trying to draw him closer.

  He moved up, pressing his mouth against my nipple, biting through the lace of my bra. Biting and pulling on my nipples until I couldn’t help but cry out. My cry echoed around the alleyway. The pressure around us had built up to breaking point, the heat turning syrupy and the air almost crackling.

  I ran my hands down his chest and lifted his t-shirt so I could feel his flesh. He pulled his t-shirt over his head.

  “Like what you see, Princess?” he asked, almost spitting out the word “Princess”. As he said it, he reefed on the edge of his belt, pulling it free of the buckle. That was an image that would keep me awake in a cold sweat at night.

  I nodded. The moonlight only emphasised the tone of his body. I leaned forward and ran my fingers down his body, tracing the line of his muscles. A scar ran down his left hip. A single white line that broke the tan skin. It looked like a knife wound but what did I know? It's not as if I'd ever seen a knife wound before. I touched the softer flesh around the scar, not wanting ask what caused it but not wanting to ignore it either.

  I caressed his body, ignoring his most important part even though it stood alert and quivering as though begging for attention. Instead I traced the curve of his hipbone, first with my fingers and then with my tongue. All the time, the need for him was growing to epic proportions and I wondered how long I could hold back.

  He grabbed for me and pulled me up close to him so he could kiss me again, our bodies not quite touching but I could feel the heat from his skin, and I was sure he could feel the heat from me. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing mattered except for us being together and the things we were going to do to each other.

  His arm circled my waist and his fingers ran down my back without him ever taking his lips from mine. I wrapped my leg around him so that the gap between us got smaller. I could feel him against me, the tip of his cock pressing against the flesh of my belly. I edged my way along the bonnet so he was rubbing against my slit instead.

  His fingers ran between my legs teasing as I rubbed myself against his hand, his long, calloused fingers stroking me. He knew exactly how to touch me, as though my body was just an extension of his. This wasn't me. This wasn't him. It was us.

  “Do you like this, Hannah?” he asked, but I couldn't answer. The part of my brain where the words lived had shut down. All thought was gone. My world had condensed to that tiny area being stroked by his fingers, swollen and throbbing.

  He laughed and ripped the delicate lace of my panties, then spread my legs apart. I offered it all up to him. Every wet, hot, throbbing part of me.

  “Are you sure you can handle this? I'm going to obliterate every thought of that other guy. Of every man you ever slept with. There will only be me, Hannah.”

  He stroked me harder and I bucked against him. Beneath me, the car creaked in rhythmic groans with each motion of my body. I had no control of my hips and my fingers gripped on to his shoulders as though I was afraid I'd float away.

  “Open your eyes and look at me. I want you to know who is doing this to you. I want you remember. I want my face to be the one you see every time you fuck anyone else. Every time you touch yourself. I want it to always be me.”

  I opened my eyes and watched his face as his fingers moved within me. He held my gaze as I bucked and writhed, until I shuddered for the final time, screaming his name. The orgasm ripped through my body from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. My whole world fragmented into tiny prisms of Jack Colt. I tried to pull away as I became more sensitive but his fingers stayed inside me, taking me completely over the edge. I moaned and I screamed, not caring if anyone could hear. Wanting him to stop but wanting him to never stop. Wanting this moment of insanity to extend forever, as wave after wave of pleasure swept through my body.

  Then I leaned back, not touching him but knowing the head of his penis tickled slightly against my bush.

  I could hear his breathing getting deeper. I could hear my own too. Both of us, in time with each other, like everything else had stopped and all we had was our bodies and our breath. I paused and looked into his eyes. For one moment, for that one moment if never again, everything was perfect.

  “Oh, Princess, are you ready?”

  The blackness flashed in his eyes, a deep pool, so primal and raw that I knew he’d hold nothing back.

  I gulped and nodded.

  He bent down, moving away from me and I thought I’d die with the sheer, overwhelming frustration of it but then I heard the rip of foil and realised what he was doing.

  He cupped his hands under my buttocks and drew me towards himself, then he slid his cock inside me. Slowly, slowly, as I shuddered around him. My legs squeezed tight around his waist and I tried to steady myself. He grinned down at me then pushed my legs wide apart. I had to rest my hands behind myself to keep my balance.

  Finally he thrust, deep and hard. As he rammed himself inside me, I reached for something to grip to stop myself from sliding around on the metal of the car. I couldn’t touch him, even though I longed to rake my nails along his chest. I couldn’t twist my fingers in his hair. I couldn’t bury my face in his shoulder.

  All I could do was try to clench my muscles tight and to stabilise myself as he watched me savour every hard lunge of his cock, as though I was on some crazy, carnal carnival ride of fucking.

  And all the while, he didn’t take his gaze from mine.

  I arched my back and tilted my head back as the first drops of summer rain hit my face, running down my skin and cooling my flesh.

  When the rain hit the cobblestones, a steamy sizzle filled the air. Or maybe that was me. The hotness inside me being quenched by Jack Colt’s cock filling me up. I pushed myself tighter onto him.

  The rain blurred my vision so that I could only see the fuzzy outlines of him. The world was being born anew and there was nothing but Jack and I in this barrage of rain. We could be washed away at this moment but we’d still be together, the lines that separated us being blurred so that we are one being.


  I started to slide and he steadied me with his arms, pressing me as I licked the droplets of rain from his skin. My hands glided along the wetness of his flesh and I want to wrap myself around him as he continued with his hard pumping. I gulped kisses against his wet mouth, ravenous for the taste of him until I could stand it no longer and crushed myself against him while he shuddered into me.

  I clung to Jack as he stroked my heair.

  “So, how was it?” he asked.

  I just grinned, too dopey to even talk.

  “We’d better get you home.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant until I saw the remnants of my soiled and drenched dress around me.

  “You sure as hell can’t catch the bus home like that.” Jack kissed me on the cheek.

  What did he mean by that kiss? It was gentle and sweet, maybe too sweet, like the kiss you’d give a sister. How could he get up and be so practical after that?

  I pulled the edges of my dress around me and tried to rescue what was left of my underwear. It was no use though. I was in rags. Jack belted up his jeans and reached into the car, grabbing me a jacket at me from the back seat. I put it on and felt a bit less exposed. Then I watched him, waiting for some acknowledgment that something between us had changed.

  “Are you getting in the car or not?” he asked.

  The rollercoaster of my emotions plummeted to the ground. Maybe it hadn’t changed anything.

  For him.

  He’d thrown the used condom into a tin he’d had in his car. How many other used condoms did he have in that tin? How many women? I mean, who even keeps a thing like that in their car? Not that I wanted the evidence of our sex to linger in the alleyway but it seemed wrong.

  We didn’t speak much in the car back to my place. Jack lit up a cigarette and offered me one, forgetting that I didn’t smoke. He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes a few times but he didn’t say words that were anywhere near the ones I wanted to hear. I knew I’d said that the sex meant nothing but the emptiness started making a big space inside me. As though I’d only found out what I’d been missing and now it was going away again.