by Molly Joseph
“You’re no better than him,” she yelled. “You were a porn star. You probably have a thousand diseases too!”
“I have zero diseases, Lola. I’ve been out of the business for over a decade.”
“Oh, you quit the business. Good for you, you freaking slime ball.” She waved a finger in his face. “You acted like you were so much better than me.”
“Why? Because I counseled you? Because I told you to lay off the partying and drugs? I was doing my job, which has nothing to do with—”
“You were being a hypocrite. You’re worse than that dumbass gigolo. You fucked on film. Anyone can see you right now, on the Internet. You made fucking porn.”
Ransom’s stomach clenched at her condemning words. Yes, he was worse than the gigolo. He’d made hundreds of films from the age of nineteen to twenty-five, drunk on money and pussy and all the cocaine he could shove up his nose. And yes, you could see all the porn you ever wanted with a simple search for Rico Rockhard. Or, in France, Le Grand Eclair.
“Don’t dare look on the Internet,” he said. “Don’t even think about searching for those videos.”
“You can’t stop me.” She was in tears. He understood her anger, but he didn’t understand the sadness. Had she felt that judged by him? As judged as he felt now?
He knew he couldn’t stop her from finding his films. He couldn’t supervise everything she looked at every minute of every day. She had a laptop, a phone, a tablet, a second laptop she used for her music. He couldn’t stop her from watching them, but he wanted to. He’d made ugly, violent films in an ugly, violent business, fucked women like objects, used drugs to make his dick last longer, the same way the girls had used all kinds of fucked up pharmaceuticals to get through the shoots. “Don’t watch them, Lola.” His voice caught. Her expression was pitiless. “They’re awful. All of them are awful.”
“Oh yeah? I bet they still turn me on.” The glittering tears in her eyes turned harder, into ice blue diamonds. “I need sex. I need release. What am I supposed to do? You won’t let me get it anywhere else.”
So it was sex, then, or his videos. He shook his head. Don’t do this. Don’t force me. Don’t blackmail me. Don’t make me give in, when I’ve tried so hard to resist you.
“No,” he said. “Don’t even… No.”
“Yes. Fuck you. I’m getting off tonight, one way or another.” She lifted her chin. “I can’t wait to see your pornos, to see your big, fat, tattooed cock. I knew all along you had a porn cock, or you wouldn’t act like such an asshole. I’m going to download every one of your films and jack off to them over and over and over.”
He wanted to kill her. He wanted to lose himself inside her. He wanted to erase everything bad he’d ever done, but he couldn’t. He could only do another terrible thing.
Furious lust replaced horror and humiliation, and filled his porn-sized, lightning-tattooed cock. If she wanted sex from him, she’d get it. He ripped her mesh shirt up over her head, then shrugged out of his jacket and threw it on the floor. “You’ll regret this,” he murmured against her neck as he grasped her breasts. She moaned and tugged at his buttons, too frantic to pry them open.
Jesus, her skin was so soft, her body so perfect. She was perfect, but he was terrible, and he was going to end up hurting her. “Out of everything,” he snarled in her ear, “this is the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever done.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sex
Lola shuddered as Ransom squeezed her breasts, then pinched her nipples. Her hands traveled up to his collar to yank loose his tie. He felt so hard. So big. So strong.
So angry.
But she needed this. She’d wanted this for so long, dreamed of him taking her just like this, in the furious heat of passion. His teeth raked over her ear. Hot breath condensed on her skin.
Lightning.
All this time, her stern and inflexible bodyguard had been an ex-porn actor with a lightning bolt tattooed on his cock. Under that suit, under that tie, under the lectures and warnings, Mr. I Don’t Believe in Empty Sex had a grand éclair and a sordid past. He thrust his tongue in her mouth, rough and hot, and while it unbalanced her, it didn’t surprise her. Somehow her body had known this other person lurked inside him. She’d known there was a reason she ached so hard for him. As his kiss deepened, turned commanding and raw, she knew he’d ached for her too.
He released her, leaving her to shiver from the intensity of his assault. She watched as he strode across the room and went through her luggage, through the pocket where she stored a variety of condoms. She could have backed out now that he was away from her. She should have backed out and said, never mind, forget it, and he would have left her alone, but she didn’t. She just waited and longed for him until he returned with a gold-wrapped rubber. He threw it on the side table, next to all the normal, everyday things they kept there. Her magazines, his phone charger, his eye drops, her water bottle. Electrolyte water.
He turned and glared at her. “We shouldn’t do this.”
She held her ground. If she had to, she’d threaten him again with the videos, even though they both knew she was going to watch them either way.
Instead, she told him her honest feelings. “If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to die.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
That was all he said, and then he was undressing, tie on the floor, buttons flicked open, shirt and undershirt discarded, dress pants unbuttoned and unzipped.
Oh my God. My God. His naked body. The muscles. The chest hair. His…lightning bolt.
Oh.
My.
God.
His huge, erect cock pointed to the sky, and the lightning bolt—the very long lightning bolt—pointed there too. She stood enraptured as he finished undressing, then he crossed to her with an impatient look on his face. That was when she realized she was still dressed, except for the top he’d pulled off her. He shoved down her skirt, and ripped off her panties with a caveman grunt that made her pussy throb.
He was naked, right in front of her, and she was naked too. His physicality was a force. His touch grew insistent as his cock poked between them, ridiculously fat and hard and porn-y. A porn star. Ransom.
Oh my God.
His hands were all over her, stroking, pinching, pulling her closer. He squeezed her ass and yanked her against his thick shaft. She felt overwhelmed by this animalistic side of her bodyguard, so different from the carefully straitlaced person he pretended to be.
There were so many things she wanted to say. I’ve wanted this for so long. You smell amazing. You’re even rougher than I imagined. Kiss me again, please. But she couldn’t say any of them because she was so shocked to finally be in his arms. His hands moved up her back and twisted in her hair, guiding her head back so her neck was bared to his kiss. She gave a whimper of pleasure as her sensitized nipples dragged across his chest, across his caveman pelt of hair.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. Those were the only words she could call forth as his fingers pressed against her scalp, causing pleasure and pain. Her other lovers were so tentative, so servile, so grateful just to find themselves in Lady Paradise’s bed. None of them ever possessed her like this, with glorious hunger and forcefulness.
He shoved a knee between her legs and she was wet, so wet. His hand slid down her back and over her ass, and then down to grope her from behind. There was no delicacy in it, no attempt to give her pleasure, only firm fingers searching and penetrating through the flood of her arousal.
“You want me?” He rubbed his cock against her front. “You want this?”
“Yes.” The word came out on a sob. She was already halfway to orgasm, just from the way he manhandled her. “Yes, please.”
It had been too long for her. It had been forever. She’d never been this turned on, this overtaken. He nudged her toward the bed and pushed her back on the rumpled sheets. Her bed, not his. She didn’t care. She’d sleep in the wet spot. She’d sleep in a thousand wet spots jus
t to enjoy this thrilling experience.
He came down over her, his knees spreading her legs, his cock arching up between them. He reached for the condom and rolled it on like a pro.
Because he was a pro. He’d been a pro. She had to remember that before she totally lost her heart to him.
She’d thought he was just a hardass, a stick in the mud bodyguard, but oh no, he was so much more. He moved his hips so his cock nestled between her pussy lips, but he didn’t enter her. She craved him, ached for him, but he only teased her with a long, slow slide over her jangling slit.
Oh God, her clit screamed at the fleeting contact. It was fucking on fire, swollen and super sensitized, and now taunted by his massive tool.
“More,” she said. “Please. I want you inside me.”
“Do you?” He gazed down at her, utterly controlled when she had zero control. She made a sound like she was dying, but it only made him smile.
“Please, Ransom.”
He put a finger over her lips as he teased her again, slick, hard flesh against her pulsing button. What would he feel like inside her? She arched up her hips, reaching for him. He pressed her back, not giving up an iota of control.
“Be still a moment,” he said. “I want to look at you.”
She lay under him, panting, splayed open for his slick, sliding torment. He did more than look. He ran a hand up her stomach, over her torso and between her breasts. He squeezed her boobs and then slid his fingertips to her nipples. She thought he might pinch them again, but when she tried to turn away, he made her turn back, and then he pinched them even harder than before. It hurt like crazy, but also felt so damn good her mouth fell open. When she tried to writhe away from the overwhelming sensation, he held her hips and forced her to submit. She couldn’t take this much longer.
She looked up at him and said, for the twentieth time, “Please, I need sex.”
“I know, baby. You’re gonna get it.”
He was like a god, all his strength and muscles on display, and his control so much more dignified than hers. He held her still and positioned his cock against her entrance. Her pussy blazed like an oven. She was so hot, so wet, so gone. Even wet as she was, she had to brace for the shocking stretch of Ransom’s cock invading her walls. He leaned on one arm, pressing her down with the other as he eased inside her body inch by inch.
“Yeah? Is that what you needed?”
She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She felt too transported to manage words. He captured her half-open lips in another questing kiss as he drove the rest of the way inside her, until she felt too full to move. He stopped then, and held her gaze.
This is a man, she thought. Not a gigolo. Not a groupie. Not an ass kisser. His eyes said, I’m inside you. Deal with it.
She squeezed on his girth and he made a soft growl that resonated all the way up to her heart. “I want to fuck you forever,” she said, because those were the first words that came to mind.
He didn’t laugh, or answer her, only started giving her exactly what she needed. Oh, she’d needed this for so long, ever since he’d told her I’m here to protect you. As long as you’re with me, you’re going to be safe. He made her feel safe, but he made her feel other things too, like happy, and normal, and oh God, so horny.
His body felt so strong sliding over hers. His arms surrounded her like a cage as he drove in with masterful control, filling her to the hilt. He smelled delicious, like sweat and soap and expensive cologne.
He’s twice your age, Lola. You’re twenty. He’s almost forty.
But she was glad he was almost forty, because twenty-year-old boys didn’t fuck like this. Every time he surged into her, he lit up some spot that made her body shake with building pleasure. “How are you doing that?” she asked, but it came out a bunch of scrambled syllables, like oh and fuck and yes. He smothered her babbling with a kiss. The man kissed like he fucked, with no-holds-barred possession. He moved a hand beneath her, cupping her ass and angling her so he could thrust even deeper.
God, he just grabbed her and moved her wherever he wanted her. She was losing her mind at the novelty of it. He was taking her somewhere she’d never been, where sex and connection made magic. She’d felt connected to him for a while now, because they’d spent so much time together. She’d played her songs for him. She’d told him things she usually kept a secret, like how worn down and confused she felt sometimes.
But she hadn’t realized she could ever be this connected to him.
“Beautiful. God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he held her and fucked her, and turned her inside out with his porn star virility. Rico Rockhard, huh? He was rock hard, all right, and rock solid. He was her rock, and she clung to him as her arousal grew to a fever pitch.
“Oh my God, oh my God, fuck, fuck, please don’t stop.” The words spilled out in frantic need, and he was there for her, stroking her back, gripping her ass, riding her to an ecstasy more intense than any pharmaceutical high she’d ever experienced. When she finally climaxed, she lost all control. Everything clenched and shuddered, and she cried, “I can’t. I can’t.”
“You can. I’ve got you.”
And he did. His hands were huge and strong, powerful enough to hold her together as her body broke to pieces in fulfillment. He tensed above her, driving deep in a hot, hard cadence, and let out his own long groan of release.
Lola lay still, basking in every sensory detail. His scent, his breath, his heaviness, the sated sounds he made, the quiet murmurs, the feel of his lips moving over her skin. His hair was soft and warm beneath her fingers. His neck felt tense as he moved to kiss her lips. She didn’t want him to pull away.
But eventually, he had to pull away. He did it slowly, taking care with the condom so he could protect her in this way as he did every other way.
“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he left her, Lola felt lost. A little worried. She couldn’t decipher his expression as he left the bed and went into the bathroom. She heard the water run and shut off, and then he returned just as he’d promised, gathering her in his arms.
She had to say something about what had just happened. She had to explain how she’d slept with a hundred men in some quest for validation, but had never known true connection until now. She could have written a thousand songs about the way he’d just made her feel, but when she met his eyes, she couldn’t say anything. A minute ticked by, and another.
Reality came crashing back, unwelcome memories, her yelling, her emotional blackmail, his angry words. You’ll regret this.
She didn’t regret what they’d just done. She was afraid of it.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and she couldn’t tell anything from his tone. He might be happy. He might be furious. He might feel nothing at all.
She turned against his shoulder and let him pull her closer. “Yes, I’m fine. I feel…wow. Really wonderful.”
He made a soft sound, perhaps a laugh. “You finally got laid.”
She didn’t want to joke about it. This had felt like so much more than “getting laid.” It wasn’t about bedding her hot bodyguard. It was about what he’d done to her heart. It was about the way he’d surged inside her and connected with her more deeply than men she’d fucked dozens of times in the past.
“I think…maybe…” She squeezed her eyes shut. Good God, was she going to cry? “I need some time to process what just happened. I mean, it was… It was amazing.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It was amazing.”
“But I just… I think I need some time before I say any more about it.”
“I think we both need some time.”
Her fingers tightened on his arm as he shifted. “But I don’t want you to leave me,” she said. “Please, will you sleep next to me tonight?”
“Of course.”
She needed time to process? Ha. What was there to process? She never, ever chose to fall asleep next to her sex partners. She’d al
ways sent them home and pushed them from her thoughts as quickly as possible. Now she couldn’t even gather her thoughts.
There was only one thought: she’d rather die than move away from the comfort of his arms.
*
Ransom sat by the window and watched Lola sleep. His tie felt tight. His throat felt tighter. He’d finished packing an hour ago, while she slept like a baby. Incredible sex would do that to you.
She looked so innocent in sleep. She always had, but now it unsettled him, because he’d been inside her, everywhere, and she still looked so innocent.
But she wasn’t, and neither was he, and now he had to tender his resignation and walk away from this assignment because he was weak, and because she knew now that he wasn’t respectable or responsible under his tailored suits and ties. He’d crossed a line no bodyguard should ever cross.
Even if he hadn’t lost control last night, he would have had to leave. She knew about his first career now, and she’d use that knowledge against him if he stayed. Their professional relationship was over, and so this assignment was over, even if they’d shared something earth-shattering. The first fuck was rough and sloppy. The second fuck was languid, an exploration of licking, sucking, biting, and teasing that escalated to a sensual wrestling match.
Which led to the third fuck, a rampant raunchfest that carried them through to dawn. He’d ended up in his client’s ass, because she loved anal, and he loved anal, and because neither of them had managed to find a boundary they wouldn’t cross. He’d spanked her, he’d called her a horny little cunt, and even wrapped his fingers around her neck to hear her moan.
He couldn’t believe it now, in the light of day. He wasn’t one to do those kinds of things, or rather, the women he dated weren’t the type to allow them. The last time he’d fucked a woman like that, cameras had been rolling.
That was the real reason he had to go. He’d fought long and hard to reshape his sexual proclivities, to wean himself from the raw, objectifying fuckfests he performed on camera. He was not Rico Rockhard, that lurid character. He would not let porn and sex define him, and if he stayed here, that was what would happen.
