She glances at a group of giggling girls in front of us. No doubt she came with them. Will she stick to her original plan of hanging out with them all night? Or will she join me for a night at the movies… and maybe more?
I feel like crossing my fingers behind my back. Come on, Daphne, give in to your temptations once more. After this is over, I want to take you to any hotel in the city. Your choice. I’ll treat your dress like it’s a million dollars and your body like it’s priceless. Doesn’t mean I won’t ravage the fuck out of it, but I promise I’ll put it back the way I found it.
Daphne looks back at me. “All right.”
All right…
All right?
All fucking right it is.
Chapter 2
DAPHNE
Is this really happening?
Am I losing my mind?
Probably.
I had promised myself that I would stay far away from Logan Dean. I had almost lost my senses – and chunks of my reputation – the last time I confronted him. To think, that was powered by anger. Now that I’m no longer angry at him? Who knows what could happen. Seeing him through my usual eyes is a lot different from seeing him through that red haze of hatred.
Yet here he is in New York City at his mother’s film premier. Of course he’s here. I knew he would be, but I brought my arsenal of BFFs and intended on staying away from anywhere he might lurk. The red carpet is the only place we could bump into each other. Haha. Here we are!
Now here’s Logan, offering his hand to me while my group of friends skedaddle on ahead. There’s something in his demeanor that’s making my heart thump so loudly that I’m afraid the whole world can hear it. I don’t want to admit it, but I think it’s the idea that he wants me so badly. Whether that’s true or not… I have no idea. A part of me doesn’t want to find out.
Another part of me can’t wait to be alone with him.
Plus, he’s scorching hot! Especially in this tux… and I can remember what his chest looks like beneath it. The rest of him? Oh, I might be game to find out…
No, Daphne, no. Focus. Just because you accepted his invitation doesn’t mean you have to follow through. Or, if you do, it doesn’t mean you have to sleep with him!
I take Logan’s hand and let him guide me into the theater. Damn, his hands are big and strong. I wouldn’t say that I have small hands, but they’re definitely swallowed whole by his. Yet they’re so soft. A guy who has never had to do a day of manual labor in his life, although he obviously spends a lot of time at the gym.
What are you doing? That voice in my head won’t leave me alone. Now the whole world is going to see these pics of you two together, like you’re dating! What is Daddy going to say? What about Mom? Oh, fuck, girl, you’re in deep shit when they find out you’re out with a man who isn’t your fi…
I stop those thoughts. No. Not going there. Happy place. Right here. Never thought my happy place would be with Logan Dean, but that’s how the world spins sometimes.
He occasionally waves at someone he knows. I know no one now. I am so out of place. My place is in fashion shows and up-and-coming venues, not movie premiers like this one. Yet when my friend said she had extra tickets through her father the movie producer, I jumped at the chance, long before I found out what movie and who was starring in it.
Now I’m at Camilla Dean’s movie premier, paraded around by her son. We’re in the dark theater with fewer photographers, but there are a ton of important people coming up, shaking hands, and saying hello. Clearly, Logan knows them. Enough to call some of them by name and feel confident enough to introduce me to. I don’t meet any of the big stars, but I meet the director and some of the producers. The most interesting guy is the cinematographer, a man with frizzy hair and a blue polka dot bowtie.
We reach our box seats. There are only a few seats to a box, and right now we’re the only ones here. Occasionally this man or that woman comes in and out, but it looks like the only other people who showed up for their assigned seats are another young couple I don’t recognize. They’re sitting on the other far side. The one light shining above us dims the moment Logan and I take our seats, my hand still in his. Or at least until I struggle with the hem of my flowy skirt and need his assistance detangling it from my heel.
His hand brushes against my ankle. How can such a thing feel so scandalous?
The stage below is dim as well. Applause breaks out as the stars of the movie stand in a single line across the stage. They bow in unison. Up here I can’t see them well… until the projector kicks in, and suddenly Camilla Dean is smiling on the giant movie screen.
She may be over fifty, but she’s still one of the most stunning women in Hollywood. The press says it all the time. They also say she’s remained a natural beauty. Ha. As someone who has been deeply entrenched in the world of plastic surgery for all her life, I can tell you that Camilla has had some work done. I can also tell you the name of her doctor just from the curve of her nose. He’s one of the best in the business, so I’m not surprised the press can’t tell she’s had a nose job.
The rest of her is pretty natural, though. She’s wearing a bright, sparkling gold dress that accentuates her tanned skin and the fluffy blond locks sprouting from her round head. She has a million dollar smile that instantly reminds me of her son’s.
Camilla Dean is the kind of woman I want to look like when I’m her age. I may be young now, but I’m fully aware that this beauty is fleeting. My goal is to hopefully not have a total meltdown when I’m 28 and get so much work done that I no longer recognize myself in the mirror.
Logan’s mother begins the opening speeches by thanking everyone who came out to watch her new movie. One of her costars reminds her that it’s not her movie, and the whole theater laughs, including Logan and me. We exchange fast glances. Did I mention that my hand is still in his? Well, not anymore. I politely take it out and curl both of my hands in my lap. I may be in a private balcony with Logan Dean, but I will retain some tier of ladylike qualities.
The stars vacate the stage as the movie begins.
It’s a series of vignettes about the different kinds of romantic love people can experience. The first one features Camilla as a woman going through a midlife crisis… and her young, college-aged daughter. They both fall in love with one of the daughter’s professors. Shenanigans ensue.
“Did you know…” Logan’s whisper startles me, “that Stephanie May was originally supposed to play the daughter? Not kidding. The contract had been signed and everything when her scandal broke out.”
“Really?” I remember that. Stephanie May was one of the biggest up and coming actresses around. I had met her a few times at some functions. Even exchanged numbers with her. Then it came out that she had lied about her age and had a secret baby somewhere. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember it annihilating her career. I don’t recognize the new actress in the movie at all.
The vignette ends with both mother and daughter deciding they don’t need the professor who was leading them both on. They drive off into the sunset in Camilla’s Thunderbird, laughing and talking about California. Applause ripples through the theater.
As the second vignette starts, a hand reaches for mine in my lap.
Why am I surprised when I look down and see that it’s Logan’s? I shouldn’t be surprised. This is a guy who has been seriously flirting with me since I went to his apartment. He came up to me on the red carpet, in front of every pap in America, and asked me to sit with him. People are already going to be gossiping.
Not to mention, this was the guy I was making out with and thinking about fucking. In fact, we were so close to doing that nasty deed that I still get trembles thinking about it.
Like right now. So many trembles.
I don’t mean to give him an encouraging look in the darkness of our balcony. Don’t mean to, and yet I do. It’s like I can’t help myself when I’m around him. The moment those dark eyes pierce my soul? My legs spread open and
I turn into a slobbering mess.
It’s only handholding. Right? So why is my heart still thundering in my chest while some has-been actor yucks it up on that huge screen? Fuck. I can’t even focus on the movie anymore. I don’t know who these actors are. Bit before my time, you know? Why should I work so hard to pay attention? The other couple isn’t paying attention. They’re getting up and exiting the balcony, snickering over some private joke between them.
My perverted brain imagines them sneaking off to make-out somewhere. Meanwhile, Logan Dean has decided that holding my hand is way too innocent for a playboy like him.
His fingers slip off my hand. At first I’m sad to see it go.
Then it lands on my thigh. My inner thigh.
No prelude. No touching my knee or the outer parts of my leg. Logan’s going straight for the kill, using the slit in my long dress to his advantage.
The air is thick and hot. You know what else is thick and hot, Daphne? No! No way. Not going there. Stop it, brain.
I make the mistake of looking in his direction. He’s staring at me. Not at the theater below us or the movie projected onto the wall. Me. Only me, as if I’m the only thing in the world worth gazing at.
For as warm as it is in here, I’m frozen in my seat. I’m not powerless, but I’m immobile as Logan’s fingertips graze against my underwear and tease my aching slit. No, not the one in my dress. The one in me.
My clit wakes up, firing off a billion signals to my brain. Hey, yeah, hey girl, let that happen over here! I bite my lip and suck in my breath. Logan touches my thigh and my slit at the same time, a brilliant cacophony of sensations that wants to completely destroy me. In a public place, no less!
He inches toward the top of my underwear, finger tugging at the fabric. His eyes remain on me, even though I now look straight ahead into the blinding darkness of the theater. Logan Dean is waiting for me to tell him no. To tell him to back off and stop touching me so intimately. I can’t. No matter what I do, I can’t say no. Because I want this.
Heat engulfs my thighs. Tingles… so many damn tingles spread through my body. My nipples are suddenly sensitive. I’m not wearing a bra with this dress. Behold, my nipples poking through pink fabric. Logan sure as hell is beholding them. What is he thinking of? Sucking them? Biting them? How badly does he want me naked? How about turning in my seat and pulling aside my dress so he can bang me right here, with his mother somewhere around? Is that other couple ever coming back? Not that I want an excuse to put a stop to this. Not that I need someone else… some strangers… to hold me accountable while I dive into folly.
My breath is sharp in my nostrils when his finger finds the width of my lingerie. Logan also sucks in his breath. He’s found me hot and wet, after all. I’ve all but advertised how willing I am to have him touch me. Finger me. Make me come, make me his.
I hate that line of thinking. That I’m somehow his. The last thing I want to be is a man’s possession. It’s what I’ve been running from for so long. It’s what I’m afraid of whenever I go back home and my father says he has “big news” for me. I am not a possession.
Yet…
I want to be his so badly.
Is this some biological fuckery? Something in my brain turning me into a sex demon whenever I’m around Logan Dean? Like I’m some lowly animal that goes into heat and demands a virile alpha male to mount and pierce her with his cock? To find a way to tell and show the whole world that I’m his.
Logan is a brazen, brash man. I shouldn’t be surprised that a guy like him, who is always with some new tawdry thing in the papers, is pushing aside my lingerie and running his finger along the wet skin of my nether lips.
A million thoughts burst in my mind. This empty balcony. Asking me up here, knowing that we would more or less be alone… did he plan this? Did he think that because I made out with him that I would be easy? That I would give up sex like he does? He would not be my first. I’m adept enough at sex to know what I want and when I should have it. Should.
He leans in close and whispers into my ear. “You’re wet, Daph.”
“Thank you for the professional commentary,” I mutter. “And it’s Daphne.” Just because he’s trying to finger me doesn’t mean he gets to call me Daph.
“That’s good. Because I would like nothing more than to take you out of here and somewhere even more private. How about a hotel? I’m dying here. I want to know what this tastes like.” He rubs my naked slit.
I shudder. “I bet you would.” Few guys have ever offered to eat me out. I wouldn’t mind it. Ahem.
“Then do you know what I would do?”
No. Don’t meet his gaze. That’s what he wants. “What? Do tell?”
His teeth touch my ear, and my shudder turns into a full-body groan. “I would fuck you so hard that everything would spin in front of you for a whole week. I wouldn’t let you walk away from my bed unless your thighs were sore and your pussy begging for mercy. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since you teased my cock in my apartment. You wouldn’t have to do anything. I’ll do all the work. Whatever you desire, Daphne, I’ll give it to you. Tonight.”
I close my eyes. “Would you give it to me until I came?”
“Absofuckinglutely.”
“How would you give it to me? Paint me a picture, Logan.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll take you lying down, kneeling, or riding my cock in my lap. Once I’m inside of you I won’t care what it’s like. I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name in pleasure. I want all of me in you. I want you to know what it feels like to have me give you something so sinful that you’ve never dared to have it before.”
Lump after lump tumbles down my throat. I’m so aroused that he could plunge his finger inside of me and I would barely notice. “What makes you think I’ve never done that before?”
“Because you’ve never met a man worthy of having that honor. Until me.”
This arrogant bastard is going to end me!
“Oops,” he hisses in my ear, that damned finger pushing ever so slowly into me. Even though my legs are hardly apart, Logan has no problems spreading my nether lips and dipping his finger into the source of my wetness. I grasp the armrests and allow my eyes to blur. There is no one else in this theater except for Logan. “Well, how about that? I’m inside of you, Daph. Right where I’ve wanted to be since I first met you.”
Another finger joins the first. Because any man who is adept at fingering knows you need at least two to accomplish anything.
“Was that a hate fuck you wanted? Is that all you’ve wanted until now?” Somehow I’m able to put the pleasure grazing my clit out of my mind. I do know that the other couple is due back at any moment. Right? We should cut this out before we get caught and I’m embarrassed out of my mind.
“I’ve never wanted a hate fuck.” Logan lightly bites my ear. The combination with him slowly fingering me is not only easing my legs open through the slit in my dress, but making me slide ever so slightly down my seat. My right hand releases the armrest and massages his left leg. It’s dark in here, but my eyesight is excellent, thank you. I can see what’s happening in Logan Dean’s pants. He intends to make good on his promises. All I have to do is say yes.
“Then what is it you want, exactly?”
I rub his erection through his soft trousers. What designer is he wearing? Valentino? How suave. Good thing I’m not impressed by designers. I won’t have any qualms ripping this fabric off his hot body!
“I want you to do that. Mostly I want to fuck the priss out of you.”
At first I thought he said something else. When I realize what he did say – while his fingers continue to fuck me and my hand is encircling his erection for a glowing round of mutual masturbation – I am struck with the idea that part of the reason Logan Dean is attracted to me is because of my image.
To be fair, isn’t that what attracts me to him as well?
He’s rubbing me faster, harder now. My thighs are on fire with a need t
o come. I don’t doubt he’s feeling much of the same way based on how hard his cock is. His thick cock that I can barely wrap my hand around. Granted, I have small hands, but…
There’s only one way to settle this. How big is Logan Dean’s cock? I must unzip him to find out!
“Oh…” His growls are infectious. Or maybe that’s me growling by now. “You may be a stuck-up princess, but you’re no stranger to a man’s finest asset, now are you?”
I know what he’s implying. I choose to ignore it and instead smile in his direction, my hand pulling aside his boxers so I can touch his flesh. Warm. No, hot. Firm. Hard. Rushing with blood like I am.
“For a man who claims to have bedded many women, you sure are taking your time in making this one come. Or maybe you’re not as good as you think you are?”
Them be fighting words. Good.
I’ve barely begun to stroke him when he’s going harder at me, his fingers taking me two knuckles at a time. Perhaps that doesn’t sound too interesting to some of you, but you best keep in mind that Logan has large fingers that more than make it a delectable experience. I can safely say that none of the other guys I’ve been with were this good at fingering me even when my legs were spread wide open and their tongues were right on my clit!
“You better deliver,” I mutter. “If I’m going to let you put your fingers in my pussy, I better get something good out of it.”
“Your wish is my command, your highness.”
I close my eyes and focus on the pleasure spreading through me. The source is Logan’s dexterous fingers plunging into me, the rest of his hand rubbing against my clit and my wet folds. I’m about to crumble from the inside. All I want is to throw myself into orgasm. As if I were home alone, safe in my bed and touching myself. Instead, it’s Logan touching me. Logan. Fucking. Dean.
The guy who pissed me off so badly that I stormed into his apartment and proceeded to make out with him.
“Look at me,” he commands, making my eyes snap open as I approach the cusp of climax. “You’re going to look me in the eyes when you come. I want to know what you look like.”
I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances Page 43
