Confessions of a Bad Boy (17 page)

I do the only thing that seems to make sense. The one thing that feels right. I grab her by the hips, pull her onto me, stick my tongue deep into her mouth. We tighten our arms around each other, breathe heavily as we devour each other’s throbbing tongues. Lips swollen with lust, hands clawing and grasping at each other’s flesh – desperately angry with each other, but unable to distinguish hate from lust anymore.

I unzip her hoodie to reveal her loose tank underneath, and when she shakes it off I tear the top up and over her head, bringing my voracious appetite to her nipples, sucking them between my lips and flicking them with my tongue as she falls back onto the couch.

“You’re an asshole, Nate,” Jessie utters between gasp as she pulls my head roughly to her breast.

I pull my head away and press my hand between skin and jeans to get at the tight, hot space between her thighs.

“I never said I wasn’t,” I growl, locking eyes filled with raging desire, my fingers slowly searching out her clit.

A wicked smile plays across her lips as I pull her jeans and panties down roughly, revealing the firm muscles and tender skin of her legs. Once they’re off I gaze at her, lying back against the cushions, kneeling on the other end of the couch at her feet as if in worship of her divine form, ready to pay my respects to the goddess of all things feminine.

I keep my eyes on her face, her smile flickering like a small flame with every touch I make. My hands over her legs, parting them slightly, so I can bring my head down and run the very tip of my tongue up the side of her calves, the back of her knee, letting her tingle at the brush of my stubble. I kiss the inside of her thigh, as soft as her lips, and keep my mouth pressed lightly there, enjoying the way her body purrs and vibrates.

With one hand on her thigh, I reach the other up toward her beautiful tits, trembling elegantly under the convulsions of her back. She takes the back of my hand and clutches it even tighter over her nipple, hard from the slow sucking of my lips across her thigh. I move my mouth closer to her pussy, and she spreads her legs wider and lets out a low moan. I smile now as I move my lips to the other thigh, bringing her closer to the edge, closer to the moment, but still not there. Keeping her in that glorious space between expectation and satisfaction, punishing and pleasuring her at the same time.

“Relax,” I murmur. “I’m in control now.”

She moans loudly, stuttering as she loses control of her breath, and it sounds like a desperate plea. He hands grab my hair and pull violently. I respond by twisting her nipple a little, mixing in a little pain like the finishing touch on a cocktail of sensations.

Her pussy is in front of me now, wet and ripe like an earned dessert, and I lap quickly with my tongue and enjoy the sound of Jessie hissing slowly with pleasure. I lap again, then blow coolly over the slick skin. She clutches at her hair, her breast, my head, her back arching and slamming onto the couch like she’s being tossed at sea. I do it again, and she moans long and hard.

“You like that?” I say through my smile.

“Yes,” she says, her voice shaking like she’s shivering from cold. “Fuck yes.”

I take her clit in my mouth and kiss it softly, pulling my lips away to make it pop softly back into place. I take it again, this time pressing the back of my tongue against it and rolling it over, the taste of her losing control, of her body swelling with sensations. I bring my fingers to her pussy and slide two inside, stirring against her walls while I work her clit with the back of my tongue, drowning in the flow of her unleashed carnality.

I lose myself in her, forget who I am as I focus solely on the movements of her body, responding as if they were my own. I interpret her moans and squeals like a foreign language that tells me to go, stop, faster, harder. Her juices dripping over my face, her smell filling my nose, her thighs squeezing my head, a woman worthy of worshipping, worthy of giving everything to. Jessie filling my every sense, my every being.

I stay there for what feels like hours, bringing her in ever-swirling circles of pleasure, falling and rising to ever-increasing heights. A gathering avalanche, a growing storm. I know the button to push, and when her squeals start getting quick, her body starts pressing itself into the couch, I know it’s time. I push my fingers deeper, curving the knuckle a little to hit the place that always brings her over the cliff, my tongue at her clit, my hand squeezing her breast, an assault of bliss on all sides.

When she comes, she’s like a woman possessed, her hands digging into my hair with a strength nobody would assume, and a scream loud enough to fill a stadium. I feel her legs tighten around my neck, hard thighs taut and stiff, and then she relaxes.

I crawl up over her on all fours and lay beside her, my arm across her chest, our legs tangled, and study the profound peace on her face, eyes closed, mouth softly smiling. When she looks at me her eyes are radiant, sleepy, as if she’s dreaming.

I trace my fingers across her collarbone, down around the curve her breast, around the tenderness of her stomach. She hums appreciatively, and I start wondering how we’re ever going to stop.

J
ust like he
’s done for the past three mornings, Nate slams my alarm clock quiet as soon as it starts blaring. Giant arm flexed, fist coming down on it so hard I’m sure it’s going to break. And just like a beautiful recurring dream, I look up at him from where I’m lying on his chest, and give him a smile.

“I fucking hate alarm clocks,” he grins, as he brings his arms back around me. Just like he’s done every morning. A girl could get used to this.

I run my hand along the definition of his torso and take a deep breath, my breasts pushing up against him. I bring my thigh up, brushing over his leg, my knee grazing against his cock. I’m still feeling the satisfying grogginess from last night’s ever-inventive fucking, as if sleeping for six hours was just a brief interruption.

It’s quiet but for the distant sound of Lorelei in the shower and the rustling of the blankets as Nate pulls me closer, and everything seems bathed in the soft-focus warmth of my sleepiness. I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest, marveling at how good he smells, and suddenly wonder if I’ve ever wanted one moment to last forever as much as now. His hand moves up my spine and he slowly strokes the back of my neck.

“I’m going to fall asleep again if you do that,” I mumble into the warmth of his chest.

He chuckles a little, and I feel every vibration of it through my cheek.

“I’m going to get horny if you don’t move your leg,” he says, making me suddenly realize that I’ve been rubbing my thigh against his groin.

We settle into each other again, and after what could as easily be three seconds as three days there’s a knock on my bedroom door, so loud and harsh in our world of intimate comfort it may as well be a bomb.

“Shower’s empty, babe,” Lorelei calls from the other side, before humming her way back down the hall to her room. I’d never get up before six AM if I didn’t work on set – I still don’t understand how Lorelei can be such a perky little early bird when most of her nights are late and long and consist of trailing celebrities all over town – but I guess gossip never sleeps.

“That’s our cue,” Nate says, patting me softly on my shoulder. His sober voice and the shift from strokes to pats telling me dreamy-morning-happy time is over, and now it’s time for the real world to start grinding me down again.

I roll off him and groan with the passion of the full-time worker at the ceiling. Nate pulls his arm from under me and gets up, sweeping the curtains aside to let the light in and then stretching athletically in front of it. I squint and watch him, the first rays of morning sunlight hurting my eyes, but the silhouette of his torso more than making up for it.

“You take the shower first,” he says, as he twists his hips like he’s about to play a tennis match. “I don’t need to be at work til nine anyway.”

I roll off the bed and stumble to my feet.

“Why don’t we go together?” I say, with as much insinuation as I can when half my face is still asleep.

Nate laughs as he comes around the bed to put his hands on my arms and hold me in front of him.

“Because I
really
like shower sex, and there’s no way I’d rush it enough for you to get to work on time.”

I pout my lips in mock-frustration and he answers me by kissing them, spinning me around to face the door, and smacking my ass lightly. I oblige and grab my things, then head out of the bedroom to shower.

Once the scalding water has done its best to wake me and I’ve fixed myself up, I step out of the bathroom where Nate waits like a tag-partner, high-fiving me as he steps into the steam. I get dressed and shuffle like a zombie towards the kitchen, where Lorelei is standing over the countertop, cutting up fruit.

“I made you coffee. A big latte for you, and an espresso of that strong Italian stuff that Nate likes.”

I thump my palms to my chest in a gesture of deep gratitude before wrapping my arm around her shoulder and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“You’re the best, Lorelei.”

She raises an eyebrow before turning back to the grapefruit.

“I don’t know…the way you made Nate shout last night has me doubting my abilities.”

I try not to laugh as I take a sip of coffee and lean against the counter.

“I’m sorry if we’re loud…”

“It’s okay, at least somebody in this apartment is getting more action than watching ‘Bad Boy’ videos.”

“Is he still a thing?” I say, snatching an orange segment from Lorelei’s bowl.

“
‘Still a thing’?
” Lorelei says, turning to look at me with so much incredulity I feel like I’ve just offended her. “The guy’s hotter than ever now. Totally blew up. And his last few videos have been insane – you need to see the vlog he did all about different sex toys for women. You should totally watch it with Nate, get some ideas.”

I almost spit out my coffee. “Lorelei!”

She shrugs. “Just saying. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Too bad,” I murmur, frowning with disappointment. “Why the sudden explosion?”

“You really didn’t hear?” Lorelei says, invested enough in the conversation now that she turns to me and jabs the knife as she makes her points so much that I take a step back. “What happened was that about a month ago his blog went dark. Just like that. No announcement, no uploads, nothing. And this is a guy who’s put out two or three videos at least every single week for years now.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure people were upset.”

“You bet they were,” Lorelei says, too enthusiastic to recognize my sarcasm. “It caused a total frenzy. People were all, ‘Where did he go?’ ‘Is he dead?’ ‘Did he settle
down?’
The internet blew up over him for a while, trying to track him down and figure out who he really was. People posted thinkpieces about how he was a symbol of moral decay in this country. Then thinkpieces about the thinkpieces saying he was some pioneer of a new kind of sexuality. Disappearing only made people want him more.”

“Were there any articles that said he might just be a pathetic guy who screws girls who don’t know better and then brags about it online like a douchebag?”

Lorelei brushes my comment aside with a roll of her eyebrows before continuing.

“Anyway, then he came back suddenly – and with a bang. I mean, he was a sexy beast before, but
now?
” Lorelei makes as if she’s fanning herself. “You can just see it, he’s really getting down and dirty now. Something’s changed – and let me tell you, I like it.”

Lorelei exhales deeply then smiles as if just talking about him has made her hot, before turning back to assaulting her fruit.

“I don’t get it,” I say, after a moment of really trying to understand. “What is he even talking about on there? It can’t just be all bragging, what’s the point of that?”

“Well,” Lorelei says, to the sound of chopping, “last night, for instance, he posted an amazing tutorial video about anal sex. If all guys did it like that, no girl would ever say no.”

“Huh,” I say, wondering at the coincidence for a second. “Is that all? Because I bet I can find you a dozen guys sitting in bars tonight who are probably talking about that.”

Lorelei huffs at my sarcasm. “It’s not just sex, Jessie. He
gets
it. He can take something like anal sex and make it sound passionate, forbidden, exciting. It’s not like he’s about just ‘sticking this, there’ – when he talks he makes it about power, about opening your boundaries with another person and trusting them, about embracing your nasty, dark, repressed inner self and allowing someone else to as well. And, of course, he’s unbelievably hot.”

“Right,” I groan dismissively.

Lorelei shakes her head as she scoops the rinds from the counter into her hand.

“What are you guys talking about?” Nate says, entering the kitchen while wrestling with his tie.

“The inexplicably continuing success of ‘Confessions of a Bad Boy,’” I say, cynically looking at Lorelei.

Nate turns away as he grabs his espresso and takes a long sip, then looks at us.

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t know the ‘Bad Boy’?” Lorelei says, gazing at Nate with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. “How the hell can
both
of you not know? What have you been doing? Wait, don’t actually answer that. Dumb question.”

Nate glances at me for an explanation and I hold my palms up in a gesture saying ‘don’t ask.’

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Well, thank you for the coffee, Lorelei,” he says, raising the cup towards her before draining it, setting it in the sink, and grabbing me. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Mm,” I hum as we kiss just deeply enough not to offend Lorelei.

He spins away and leaves.

“I should get going too,” I say to Lorelei as she drizzles a little honey onto her fruit salad.

“Jessie,” Lorelei says slowly, turning from her salad to look at me directly.

“Yeah?” I say, noticing her seriousness.

“What exactly are you going to do? About you and Nate? Is this still a casual thing? Because it doesn’t seem like it.”

Suddenly a thousand thoughts that I’ve turned over a million times flood through my mind. I open my mouth, an automatic response ready. The response I’ve told myself whenever I’ve asked myself this question. With a friend like Lorelei, though, you realize it’s easier to lie to yourself than to say it out loud.

I hang my head and let the thoughts clear, leaving the truth behind, the truth that’s been there all along but which I’ve been covering up.

“I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Lorelei sighs deeply before coming closer to me and leaning forward sympathetically.

“Jessie…” she says softly, not for any other reason than to let me know she’s listening.

I look up at her, and the kindness in her eyes lets me know I can speak my mind.

“It’s still complicated. But I know he feels the same, even if we haven’t exactly talked about it, and at some point I do have to tell Kyle. We’ve got to come clean eventually.”

Lorelei’s face is pained, and she shakes her head slowly.

“No judgment here, but I don’t think that’s smart, Jessie.”

“What else can we do? We can’t sneak around like this forever. It’s only because Kyle’s on another business trip now that we’ve been able to relax like this. Maybe Kyle will understand.”

Lorelei bites her lip, thinking. “We both know that won’t happen, Jess. Kyle is about as predictable as they get. He’ll knock Nate out, then chew you out. He’d never forgive either of you. You’d lose a brother, a boyfriend, maybe even both. I want this to work for you, but…”

I dig my fingers into my hair.

“What else can I do, Lorelei? I’m not going to give up on a guy I’ve liked since I was seven years old just because I happen to have an overbearing brother. It’s not right.”

“I know, honey,” Lorelei says, drawing me into a half-hug. “I don’t envy you – well, I did last night at two AM, but in general, I mean.”

I laugh the kind of short, sad laugh that usually happens when you’re talking about something utterly depressing.

“You’re sure it’s for real, what you guys have?”

“Yeah.”

“All I would say, Jessie, is that it’s been – what, a month or two? You and Nate still have a long way to go to see if it’ll even work out long-term. Plus, how can you tell Kyle that you’re together, when Nate doesn’t even really know how you feel?”

“He knows.” I look up at her. “He has to know. I’m not feeling this alone.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Lorelei says softly. “But you always told me Nate played the field, slept around, never committed, remember? You told me that he’d never even had a girlfriend before. I’m not saying that that’s what he’s doing with you, and I’m not doubting that right now he’s genuinely happy with you, but this still might mean a lot more to you than it does to him. He might not be thinking as far into the future as you are, that’s all.”

My stomach lurches as her words sink in, echoing my deepest fears. I let Lorelei embrace me again and smile anxiously when she pulls away.

“Thanks, Lorelei. You really do know how to kill my vibe,” I say, punching her shoulder softly to show I’m not serious.

“I just don’t want to see you walk into a wall of hurt.”

“I know,” I say, grabbing one more long sip of coffee before putting my mug into the sink. “But I’m not sure I can stop.”

W
hen I’m not being mistreated
at my main job as costumer on the set of Dominique’s procedural cop show, I take on odd jobs for photographers and artists. It’s a nice change of pace, and picking out outfits for photoshoots is way more challenging and interesting than making sure none of the actors have labels showing on their suits (you’d be surprised).

The photography studio’s already set up when I get there, a simple backdrop, and after saying hello to Bjorn the photographer and his multiple assistants, I make my way back to the dressing room. There’s already a positive buzz in the air, the kind that happens when the person being photographed is someone the assistants are genuine fans of. Today’s it’s a young, hot musical starlet that just won a Grammy. She’s a pretty big deal.

Which is why I’m surprised to find her alone in the dressing room when I get there.

“Hey,” she says, as I step inside.

“Hey,” I reply, her smile so sweet I feel compelled to smile back.

“I’m Haley,” she says, moving toward me with her hand outstretched. I take it and we shake, and instantly I know we’re going to have a great time today.

“Jessie.”

She stands in front of me looking a little awkward, despite the fact that she’s already dressed to kill in a worn leather jacket and skinny jeans.

“Are you the make-up artist, or the hairdresser?” she asks nervously, tugging at the end of one of her crazy curls.

“Nope. I’m the costumer. Though you look pretty fantastic already.”

She laughs nervously. “I think I’m wearing this in about ninety per cent of my pictures, so you’re pretty welcome to do as you please.”

“Well,” I say, sliding my backpack off my shoulder and onto a seat as I move toward the racks, “let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

“So long as it’s not a latex dress and spike heels,” Haley says, and I flash her another smile to show my appreciation that she’s not as stuck-up as most rock stars I’ve dressed.