Anaconda: A Sexy Romantic Comedy

by Landish, Lauren

  And to think when I came into the town, I hated it because it was just a place that didn’t have a busy nightlife and luxury homes. To think that Brianna would sacrifice herself to stay in a place like this so she could one day help contribute to the community she loves.

  The whole time, though, she doesn’t have anything for herself. A shitty apartment that probably isn’t up to building code, a job where the hotel manager is a fucking tinpot Napoleon with a fake British accent, and a single friend.

  Actually, she does have that going for her.

  Mindy’s pretty fucking awesome as a bestie.

  I don’t have any idea how she does it. I look at her sleeping on my chest, and my eyes feel hot and heavy. She’s like an angel, and she’s in my arms . . . even if I don’t deserve it.

  My whole adult life, I’ve been obsessed with my image and my career. I’ve taken. I took contracts, I took money, and I took gifts. I took, and other than handing out a few toe-curling orgasms, what have I actually given?

  Not a damn thing.

  What good have I done with my money besides spend it on myself and pamper my spoiled parents? I give the bare minimum in time and money to charity to keep the team off my ass, and that’s it.

  I’ve been so self-centered, I think to myself.

  I look down at Brianna, snoring softly against my chest. I feel a tightness in my stomach, a sort of heavy ball that’s slowly building. Being with her makes me want to be a better person, a better man. The only thing is, I’m not sure if I could give it all up to be that way. I’m not sure, but I worry that the money and the fame have started to claim me too. I might be addicted to the fame. And she’s better than that trap.

  “Oh, my little Bunny,” I softly whisper, squeezing her arm and placing my chin on her head. “What am I gonna do with you?”

  * * *

  I wake up to the sound of running water. I let out a groan, early morning sunlight streaming through the window. Yeah, now I know for sure that I'd have back problems in two seconds sleeping on this shitty bed. I look around groggily, hearing a faint hum from the tiny bathroom. Brianna must be in the shower, and I’m tempted to join her.

  I yawn and stretch, scratching my stomach as I look down at my cock, which is more than happy at the idea of a morning shower with her. I’m about to get up and give Brianna a surprise when my cell goes off on the nightstand. I have the urge to ignore it, but I know better.

  “Yeah?” I say when I pick up, not caring who’s on the other end.

  “Gavin, where are you?” Miranda growls. Well, good fucking morning to you too, Miranda.

  “I’m right where I want to be,” I say before I can stop myself. At least I don’t tell her who I’m with.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Jim is going nuts over here!” In the background, I can hear yelling, and someone else goes running by, obviously trying to do something in the middle of the chaos to calm Jim down. “You knew this was the last day of filming! Today’s the big scene!”

  Oh, shit. I just remembered. They might have delayed it, but I’m supposed to film my bedroom scene with Leslie today, and there’s another action scene.

  “Fuck, forgot. I'm sorry.”

  “I need you here. Like, ten minutes ago!”

  The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone for a second. “Damn.”

  She hung up on me. That’s never happened to me before. Running my hand through my hair, I set my phone aside and get out of bed. I can hear Brianna humming cheerfully in the bathroom, some little pop tune that’s been popular recently. Today was supposed to be her day off. We could’ve spent a lot of time together. We’d even said something about it when we went out to get some drive-through burgers. She’s gonna be pissed. I completely forgot about everything else.

  I hurry and get dressed. I’m gonna go there smelling like dust in day-old clothes that are slightly wrinkled, but it can’t be helped.

  I go over to the bathroom door to tell Brianna I’m going, but it’s locked. I don’t get why she locked it, but maybe it was out of habit.

  I look around and find a pen on her nightstand, and inside the pocket of my pants is a piece of paper. I smooth it out and scribble down a note.

  Brianna,

  Thanks for the night of fun. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. I’ve gotta run. I completely forgot that it’s my last day of filming. Miranda’s up my ass and Jim’s apparently going nuts over there.

  I’ve left a little surprise for you so you can enjoy your day off. Have some fun. You deserve it.

  -G

  I reach into my pocket and pull out a clip of cash I keep with me and place it on top of the note. I don’t know how much it is. I don’t even count it, but I want to spoil her.

  After I put the money under the note, I go over to the bathroom. Brianna’s still humming softly to herself, barely audible over the shower, and I kiss my hand, putting it on the rickety wood before I quietly walk out.

  Chapter 23

  Brianna

  The warm water rolls over me as I hum gently in the shower. This is my second shower since last night. I took one right after we had sex to help clean up, but I need another one now.

  I can’t stop thinking about last night.

  I’m aching all over, but it’s a good kind of hurt. A hurt that makes me want more. Even now, sitting in the shower with the water running over me, I wonder if he’ll come in and take me again in the shower. Any hole he wants. Even now, my body is heating up and my nipples tighten as I think of the way the water would look running over his chiseled body.

  My pussy pulses at the image as I turn and let the water hit me. I lower my head, panting, trying to resist the urge to reach down and rub myself.

  Simply put, Gavin was amazing. He was everything that I could have ever imagined. He made this shitty apartment feel like a palace, and I was a princess with a naughty streak that he brings out. He was gentle, but then when I was ready, rough enough to make me feel wanton, ridden . . . taken and claimed.

  I use up all of my hot water, rinsing myself before I step out. I dry myself off using another one of the luxuries I got from the hotel, a room towel that’s been frayed on one corner and was ready for the garbage bin before I saved it, rubbing my skin until I’m pink and dry. Humming softly, my heart starts racing in anticipation. I imagine Gavin is awake now, waiting for me in my bed with a dreamy smile on his face. And maybe he has a way to help me with my still aching body and the voracious need that seems to be inside me when he’s around.

  I have a glow about myself when I step out into my bedroom, my towel wrapped around my chest loosely to see if I can entice him into one more round.

  “Good morning, Mr. Movie Star . . .”

  I freeze. The bed is empty. Gavin is gone.

  My heart skips a beat and I take a breath. It’s not like I have to search. I can turn around and see the entire bedroom. “Gavin?” I call, making sure he hasn’t gotten up and gone to the kitchen. “Gavin, are you here?”

  There’s no response, and a crushing weight settles on my chest. If he were here, he’d answer me. My apartment is tiny as fuck. You can probably throw a paper airplane from one side to the other.

  “Why the hell didn’t he tell me he was leaving?” I mutter. He was asleep when I got in the shower, or at least he appeared to be. If he had to get up, why not knock on the door and tell me he was leaving?

  The thought unsettles me. We’d talked about spending the day together, and now he’s gone. Again. I’m not going to make the same mistake, so I look around for a note, confused when I see a stack of money sitting on a piece of paper on my nightstand.

  I walk over and pick up the stack of bills. It must be a thousand dollars here. My heart racing, I pick up the note and read it. Anger twists my stomach as I read it. Enjoy my day off? “What the fuck?”

  Leaving money with a woman after a night of sex is what men do with prostitutes. And while I feel like Gavin may have tapped into my inner slut, there’s
a world of difference between being a slut and being a whore. I wrap my arm across my chest, squeezing myself tight. Is that what Gavin thought this was? That by taking my ass cherry, he owed me something? To assuage his guilty conscience, he thinks giving me money will make things better?

  I don't want his pity or his sympathy. I’ve stood on my own long before I even knew who Gavin Adams was. And yeah, I slept with him, but that doesn’t mean he owes me anything. A part of me feels like he’s just paying this because he knows that he’ll be leaving tomorrow and this is his peace offering money.

  I sink down onto the bed, barely able to breathe. Seeing the note and the money clip has jolted me out of my trance. I feel like I’ve deluded myself. He’s going to be gone tomorrow. Can I really try to have a long-distance thing with a man who’s going to have women throw themselves at him like Gavin Adams? And if I can’t, why make my heartache that much worse?

  Still, it angers me that he snuck out this morning and cheapened our experience by leaving money.

  The more I think about everything, the more upset I get, regardless of his attempt at a nice note.

  Eventually, I can take no more. I get up and start getting dressed. My second-best pants, a decent blouse, and just a touch of makeup. Although Vandenburgh is the last fucking person I want to have a chance to run into on my day off, I’m going in to work.

  I need someone to talk to. And I know just the girl.

  Chapter 24

  Gavin

  “You’re not taking her anywhere,” I growl to the man, Kevin, in black leather holding Kara’s arm. “If you try it, I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking fuck face.”

  Someone was paid to write this? How many times can I say fuck in a sentence?

  “Jack!” Kara cries weakly. She’s bruised, bleeding from a cut on her cheek where Kevin’s already smacked her around, and she knows what I’m doing is stupid. “Please don't do this. Go and save yourself!”

  “No, Kara. I’m not letting him take you anywhere. He doesn’t own you. Not anymore.” I scowl angrily, stepping forward. My eyes dart around, but Kevin’s alone. He looks like he’s in decent shape, but I also know that he intends to hurt the woman I love, and come hell or high water, I’m not going to let her get taken away from me again.

  Kevin laughs. “Would you listen to this shit? Kara, this prick doesn’t even know you more than a few days, and now he thinks he can tell me that your puss isn’t mine.” He scowls at me. “Fuck off, dipshit. Kara’s coming with me.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” I say, balling my fists. A few days? I’ve known her for years, almost since we were kids, and I’ve loved her nearly as long. Now that I finally have her, he’s not going to take her from me. “Run, Kara, run!”

  I rush forward, a roar of anger tearing from my chest while Kara lets out a scream. She tries to pull away from Kevin as I lower my shoulder and hit him in the stomach, lifting him high into the air to try and tear him away from her. When I feel his grip loosen, I turn, slamming him into the floor as we get into an epic struggle.

  I began pounding away at him, letting loose with all of the rage that’s been building inside me ever since Kara told me the truth about her past. But all of my strength and anger aren’t helpful as my fist hits nothing but the wooden floorboards as Kevin deflects my punch. “Asshole!”

  Kevin lets out a growl of rage and with a giant heave, throws me off him. I land on my back and scramble to my feet, barely avoiding the boot that goes slamming into the space my head had been seconds before. “You think you can just waltz up in here and take my shit?” Kevin growls, reaching for me. “You’re a fucking dead man.”

  I slam my fist into the side of his face. I’ve had a few throw downs in my time, and all of the strength and muscle I’ve built in the auto shop are put behind it. He staggers, whining like a whipped dog as he grabs his face, and I smile. I grab him by his arm and pull him into me, wrapping my hands around him, ready to see if I can dribble his head like a basketball.

  “I think you got that wrong, buddy,” I growl in his ear. “I just proposed to ‘your girl’ right before you showed up, and after I’m done whipping the shit out of you, I’m going to take her back to my house and we’re going to fuck all night long.”

  I begin choking Kevin as he struggles against me, raining blows against my abdomen, but I barely feel them. I’ve taken worse before. His struggles go weaker and weaker, and I think I have him. Suddenly, his knee comes up, hitting me in the balls, and my arms relax, letting him slam his head into my nose hard. Shocked and in pain, I lose my balance and fall backward, hitting my head on the pavement.

  All sound goes fuzzy as if I’m underwater, and my vision immediately blurs. Somewhere in the background, I hear several startled screams and the director screaming, “CUT!” as I fade off into the darkness.

  Shit.

  I guess I fucked up again.

  * * *

  Oh, my fucking head. I groan, bringing my hand to my forehead. I feel like my head’s splitting in two. I open my eyes, immediately regretting it as I can feel the light pulse with my heartbeat. My vision is blurred. Not much is really that sharp, but I see a figure in white standing over me.

  “Mr. Adams, I’m so glad you’re awake,” says a male voice. I’m trying hard to focus on his face but it’s still blurry. “I’m Doctor Harmon.”

  “What happened?” I moan, having trouble remembering what went on. I remember starting the fight sequence for the final scene and everything going smoothly. I’d slammed the bad guy, we’d done the point where I was starting to choke him . . . and then just blackness.

  “You had a little accident. Fell and hit your head on set,” Dr. Harmon says. “Split your head open pretty badly, but nothing that a few stitches couldn’t take care of.”

  No wonder it feels like it’s about to explode.

  “Am I all right? Any major bleeding?” I ask. Fear clutches me for a moment. The league is super strict on the concussion protocol nowadays, and if I’ve gotten a bad concussion, I could be sitting on the sidelines doing nothing but holding a clipboard and picking my nose for quite a while.

  “You’re fine,” Dr. Harmon assures me. His face comes in clearer now. He’s a short, bald man with patrician features and wide goggle-like glasses. He’s looking at me with a faint smile on his face. “The bleeding was just on the surface. The stitches can come out in a week. The rest is just a small concussion. Grade one.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter. A grade one concussion isn’t the worst. At least I can feel my damn toes, but it’ll still put me on the league’s concussion protocol. The team’s not going to like that, and there may be a chance I can’t get cleared to do the workouts. I’ll probably get docked pay. Fuck.

  Dr. Harmon chuckles. “It’ll be fine, Mr. Adams. I’m sure you’ll be on the mend in no time. Just get a lot of rest and take your medication to treat the residual swelling, and I’m sure you’ll be able to play. I read your medical history. You don’t have a history of them.”

  “I fucking hope so,” I mutter. I know I should be more graceful, but I feel like shit. Still, I try to make a joke. “At least the cut’s on my bad side.”

  Dr. Harmon laughs again. “If you can sign this for me, I’d really appreciate it.”

  He grabs something from the inside of his white coat. It’s a small, folded up girl’s t-shirt with my jersey number on it.

  I stare at him like he’s a two-headed dragon. Is he fucking kidding me? I have stitches in my head, I’m now, for sure, on a concussion protocol, and this guy wants an autograph? “Are you serious?”

  He cringes but doesn't relent, holding out a pen to me. “My daughter is a huge fan of yours. And she’d kill me if I didn’t at least try. Please?”

  I’m about to refuse, but then suddenly, the image of Brianna comes to me. She’d say that pink doughnut lady would do it without a problem. Hell, if he were a guest in the hotel asking for extra towels, Bri would do it with a smile on her face, even if she
didn’t want to on the inside. The man patched me together. I shouldn’t be rude. “Sure. You’re right, Doc. Who do I make it out to?”

  “Tiffy,” Harmon says, and I nod. Before I can scribble a word, he adds, “Could you sign it Anaconda?”

  I stop for a second, about ready to change my mind. He’s violating the laws of his job, and for some reason, I doubt ‘Tiffy’ is his daughter, but I’m able to stay calm and quickly scribble my signature. “Here. Hope she likes it.”

  “Thanks so much,” Harmon says when I'm done, taking the pen and shirt back from me. “By the way, there’s someone waiting outside to see you. I’m going to let her in and then start working on your discharge papers.”

  “I can go back today?” I ask, surprised but happy.

  “You sure can. But like I said, you’ll have to take it easy. My nurse, Missy, will be in here to explain the protocol you’re supposed to follow before you're released. Just lie back, and we’ll have you out of here ASAP.”

  He extends a hand to me. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Adams. It’s not everyday we get someone like you in here.”

  I shake it. It’s a habit, and while the t-shirt was bullshit, I try to be at least a little grateful. “Thank you.”

  When Harmon walks out, my heart thuds in my chest. He said a woman was waiting to see me. Having heard the news, it’s got to be Brianna, right? I try to sit up straighter and look stronger. I don’t want her worried about me. When the door opens, in walks . . .

  Miranda. Of course, it would be her. I don’t know what I was thinking as my heart sinks anyway. “Oh, thank God! You’re all right!”

  “Hey, Miranda,” I say, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I'm happy to see her, but I would prefer Bri here instead. I know news had to have gotten back to the hotel by now, and Mindy would have called her. She has to know.

  But she’s not here.