Dirty Boy (17 page)

“You liked that, yes?”

Tipping her mouth up at Story’s non-answer, Addie roamed her fingers underneath Story’s shirt.

Goosebumps travelled along Story’s skin and she stiffened, in an effort to curtail her reaction.

“It’s okay,” Addie soothed. “You’re responding to my touch. Just as you would to a man.”

Story stared at her, the understanding in her eyes removing some of her nervous tension. Experiencing girl-on-girl for the first time was better without the film rolling. Eric was high strung and impatient, and she’d be worried enough about being with another girl. Girls had never been on her radar, therefore she never expected intimacy with one.

Taking Story’s silence as acquiescence, Addie unbuttoned Story’s shorts and dropped them down to her ankles, along with her panties. Stroking her ass cheeks, she returned her mouth to Story’s and skimmed her fingers over Story’s hip and her mound, until she found her slit.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet,” Addie purred. “Watching Max fuck me turned you on, huh?”

In denial, Story shook her head as Addie fingered her clit.

She nipped her lips. “You wanted to be with us, didn’t you?”

No. She didn’t want to watch Max with anyone. Not wanting to respond to the question or the way Addie manipulated her clit, Story stifled a groan.

“In bed, love, and spread your legs.”

“Take off your shirt and bra,” Max instructed.

Her fingers were trembling too bad to finish undressing so Addie assisted her. Crawling onto the bed, Max’s hard cock greeted her. She wanted to take him into her mouth as Addie had.

Addie spread Story’s legs before she glided down her body. The moment her tongue stroked Story’s heat, Max bent and took her mouth. He tasted of mint and smelled of soap, but the assault on her senses drifted away at Addie’s relentless tongue.

Moaning, Story opened her mouth, her building orgasm turning her ravenous. Her tongue met Max’s in a heated exchange. Arching up, she fingered her own nipples, whining in protest when Max went to Addie.

“Ass in air,” he instructed.

Her tongue still lapping Story, Addie complied. He slid into her and Addie sighed against Story’s wet flesh. Max pounded into the blonde and she forgot Story, her hanging breasts bouncing, mouth parted. As her body began to jerk, she bent and sucked Story’s clit into her mouth.

Seeing the pleasure on Max’s face and Addie’s bouncing breasts, along with the stimulation of her teeth and lips, pressure built low in Story’s belly. Her entire body shook. Lifting her hips, Story watched as Max guided his cock onto Addie’s back and cum shot from him. Story’s moans built, crescendoed, and ended in a scream.

Max pulled away from Addie, breathing hard, sweat dripping down the center of his chest. He hid a smile when she kissed the inside of Story’s thigh and another tremor hit Story. This had gone better than expected.

Pleased, he slapped Addie’s ass. He’d enjoyed fucking her today. He’d have to cast her in another role as soon as possible, so they’d work together again after they finished filming tomorrow’s scene with the three of them.

She got to her feet. “I’ll go and have a ciggy until we’re ready to shoot our one-on-one.”

He smirked at her, but pushed her to the back of his mind the moment she walked out of sight.

The scent of Story drove him crazy, but she lay still, looking lost and forlorn. He stretched out next to her and nuzzled her neck, all fucked out and needing to preserve his energy for when Addie returned and Eric was ready to roll. But he had other ways to make Story feel good.

He cupped her pussy.

Story grabbed his wrist. “Go away.”

“No,” he whispered, fingering her slit and bending his head to tug a nipple into his mouth.

“Max, I want to get up. Let me get dressed, so you and Addie can fuck each other without me.”

Releasing her and sitting up, Max watched as a combination of emotions ran over Story’s face. He’d thought the threesome would show her the meaninglessness of sex, but it seemed to hurt her more. His sudden guilt angered him.

“Stop it, Story,” he demanded. “You’re not pouting because I have to fuck Addie again. You’re pouting because she got you off.”

“Fuck you,” she snarled, not denying his accusation.

“It must hurt knowing your Pollyana complex does you no fucking good. You’re still human. You like to fuck. That isn’t a bad thing, so get over it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s the point, Max,” she whispered as she stood and faced him. “Whether I have sex with a guy or a girl, it should mean something.”

Her words shocked him into speechlessness and allowed her to grab her clothes and escape before he thought of an appropriate response.

“Look, motherfucker, get the fuck off my back. You’re going to get your shit, so fuck you.” Ryker’s uncharacteristic anger gave Max pause as he sat with him and Eric in their studio lounge.

After a long day of all types of bullshit, filming had ended half an hour ago. Fucking Addie without the cameras had been one thing. With them onscreen and the stick up Eric’s ass about capturing perfection, had been fucking frustrating. What would amount to five minutes of the movie had taken nearly two hours to film.

Between that and Story’s words resonating in his head, Max wanted to get the fuck home and have a drink.

“Do what the fuck you have to.” Once he imparted that, Ryker listened a moment longer before screaming, “fuck you,” disconnecting the call and throwing his phone aside.

“Care to explain what the fuck’s going on?” Eric asked, resting his elbows on the table.

Ryker hung his head in his hands. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure?” Eric persisted.

“Yes,” he spat. “It’s a business deal. This asshole is pressuring me to…” Voice trailing off, he cursed under his breath.

“To?” Max pressed.

“I can handle it, Max,” Ryker insisted, avoiding his gaze.

Except in regards to drugs, his youngest brother had always been able to handle himself, so Max believed Ryker did have shit under control. Sometimes, Ryker forgot he had his brothers
and
father to stand behind him through thick and thin. “If you need me, let me know.”

Max knew people. This side of the law, that side of the law, and everywhere in between. He had friends in
all
walks of life. More than anything, he had no fear of dirtying his own hands.

“I wish we would’ve been filming the scene between you, Addie, and Story,” Eric spoke into the silence. “The three of you were fucking hot.”

“Right until our little sister lost her shit at the end,” Ryker stated.

“Asshole,” Max gritted. “Story isn’t our fucking sister.”

“Stepsister, then. We’re still related to her by marriage.”

“Yeah, but not by fucking blood. I hardly know her.”

For instance, the sweet, innocent girl he’d met didn’t use the word
fuck
. The grownup, sexy woman did.

“I’d say you know her pretty well,” Eric stated, leaning back in his seat, hands behind his head. “Get her the fuck in line. I can’t have her ruining my set because you’re fucking other girls. It’s what the fuck you do. Your day job. She’s lucky I agreed to your plan.
I
could’ve had her ass arrested myself. Dad wants to protect Barbra for whatever fucking reason. I don’t know how he feels about Story. None of
us
gives a fuck about her, so she’s fair game.”

Max growled, wondering if he needed to punch the fuck out of Eric, so he wouldn’t fuck with Story, as he’d ordered.

“I’m not going to say anything to her, Max! Or do anything,” Eric added, when Max stood. “She’s yours to handle how you see fit.”

“Don’t forget that,” he suggested, reseating himself. He shoved aside his concern for Story’s frame of mind.

He should’ve taken the time to explain in greater detail about her response to Addie. It didn’t mean Story was into girls. She was exploring her sexuality, discovering who and what she desired. He needed her to understand that sex was sex, nothing to be ashamed of, and everything to be enjoyed. The unwarranted, misplaced guilt she carried would make her embarrassed and regretful.

He squeezed his temples and sighed at his hypocrisy.
He
didn’t need to fuck another man to know he wasn’t into men. Besides, he could’ve very well gotten a guy to engage Story in a threesome. But the thought of watching her fuck another man infuriated him. How fucking galling to admit that. Finally, he’d seen the look on her face when he’d invited Addie to his office to fuck. From the day he’d met the blonde—the very day Story had arrived—he’d wanted her. No, they’d wanted each other.

Max never denied himself anything. In his memory, the only person who’d ever denied him—who’d bested him, outmaneuvered him, and outsmarted him—had been his wife. And
she
hadn’t fucking won. She’d ended up dead out of spite, along with their son. Again, out of fucking spite.

The same insane anger and devastation assailed him. He could still see Kayleigh flinging them over the cliff. His son’s scream reverberated in his head to this day. The ghosts of his father’s and brothers’ arms as they restrained him, haunted him.

As usual, nausea hit him hard, and Max gritted his teeth.

“Max?” Eric’s concern broke through to him. “You okay?”

Forcing the thoughts away, he grinned. “After the pussy I got from Addie? I’m fucking fabulous.”

Ryker snickered, but Eric stared. Hard. Maybe because only four years separated them, he couldn’t hide shit from Eric as easily as he did Ryker. But Max had gotten so good at deception, at lying to the world—
himself
—he knew how to have everyone see what he wanted them to see.

The door opened. Expecting Story, he started to stand, halting when he found himself face-to-face with Greta.

“Get out,” he snarled. If he never saw her again, it would be too fucking soon, with her talk of retirement and babies and marriage. He didn’t want any of that from her.

Or anyone.

The types of demands she’d began to make would turn into vicious manipulations as time went on.

“Max, you haven’t returned my calls,” she said, standing her ground. She tossed her black hair over her shoulder and moved closer. “I came to talk to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Her gray eyes narrowed. “I’m giving you one last chance to choose me over this,” she said, extending her arms out and indicating the room at large, the gesture meant to encompass his studio and his career.

“
This
is where I want to be.”

“You’re alone, Max. Alone! I’m alone.” Her tone turned wheedling. “We work so well together. Give us another shot. Please.”

“No.” His answer came swiftly, immediately, and automatically. “You changed the rules. You knew I wasn’t interested in permanency.”

“What is it?” she sneered, the ugliness that had become their relationship flaring up. “You have mommy issues? Daddy issues? What?”

“Nice try,” he drawled, hating her a little more. He had grief issues and fear of being hurt again. Whenever he gave himself time to think, he relived the trauma of his son’s death.

She changed tactics once more and softened her look. “You have to let someone in someday.”

“The fuck I do.”

“I’m ready, Max,” Story announced, walking into the room and stopping when she saw Greta. Huffing out a breath, she rolled her eyes. “You must be in some sort of sex book of records. In three days, you’ve had me, Natalia, Addie, Vista, and now
her
.”

“
Her?
” Greta screeched, whirling to face Story. “I’m not a
her.
I’m his girlfriend.”

Instead of being offended, shocked, or intimidated, Story laughed with real amusement. “Max doesn’t do girlfriends, so save yourself the heartache into thinking otherwise.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Cocking her head to the side, Story considered Greta’s question. “His protégé,” she responded after a heartbeat. “His costar.”

Hands on hips, Greta turned her attention back to him. “Costar? You replaced
me
with
her
?”

Story’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and Max knew she would read Greta the riot act, without giving him the chance to defend her. Before shit got out of hand, he went to Story and clapped his hand over her mouth. “Shut it,” he warned.

“Look at her!” Greta cried. “Her tits are little. Her hair is an ugly brown and her clothes are raggedy and ridiculous. You’re giving me up, a shiny jewel, for a dull little dud.”

Story hissed behind Max’s hand and opened her mouth in an attempt to bite him.

He tightened his hold on Story so she wouldn’t get away from him. “Greta, you could take pointers from Story,” he snapped, her continued screeching becoming white noise. “You left me in a lurch. What the fuck did you expect me to do?”

“Beg me to come back.”

“Not happening then. Not happening now. Not happening
ever
,” he retorted.

“I fucking hate you, Maxwell Sherwood. Do you hear me? I hate you.”

He’d heard worse. Dropping his hand from Story’s mouth, he pinned her with a warning look. She got the message and clamped her mouth shut, allowing him to focus on Greta. “How much to make you go away?”

“Everything is money. Money won’t keep you warm at night.”

“No, but pussy will,” he replied.

“You fucking bastard.”

“How much, Greta?” he demanded, no longer interested in her or her conversation.

“Two hundred fifty thousand.”

Double what she would’ve made for the duration of her contract. “That seems to be the going rate.”

Next to him, Story stiffened and he gave her a bland smile. Lifting her chin, her look challenged him.

“Meet me in my office,” he growled, hating Story’s unspoken plea that he believe her. “I’ll write your goddamn check and rip up your contract. You’re going to sign an agreement to never contact me again or I’ll sue you for breach.”

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” Greta’s anger fled, leaving behind genuine sadness. “I wish things had turned out differently. Just give me my money so I can be gone from your presence.”

“See, Story? Everyone has a price.”

“I don’t, Max.”

He gave her a superior smile. “No? Think again. Your price had been the amount of your tuition. Now, it’s staying out of jail. All at the expense of your body.”

Those words hurt her, as much as watching him with Addie had. He saw it in her sagging shoulders and miserable look.

“Congratulations,” she hissed. “It seems as if you have everyone right where you want them. At your mercy. Or so it seems.”

“It doesn’t
seem
that way. It
is
that way.”

“Really? Greta came here to win you back
and
in breach of contract. She didn’t get you but she got out of her contract and is a quarter million dollars richer.”

“And?” he pressed, missing her point. “Money is like sex. Both are to be enjoyed at all times and wielded when necessary.”

“Spoken like a man who always had money.”

“As if
you
haven’t,” he shot back. “Remember who your mother is.”

She didn’t respond.

“I’m done with both of these conversations. I’m getting rid of Greta. I fucking won, so deal with it.”

Story offered him a sad look. “That’s the problem, Max. You’re so interested in winning you’re unaware of how often you lose.”

Not saying another word, she turned on her heel and marched out, without giving him a chance to respond.

A good thing, perhaps. As so often happened with Story, he couldn’t think of a single reply.