But all is good now. I’m right back in the place I need to be.
The newly grown pussy I was acquiring is gone, and I’m back to all big, manly cock.
When I saw Lyla later that night after I’d acted like “Pussy” Tom, I made sure to fuck her like the man I am and the casual fuck buddy that she is.
I might like Lyla…I might care about her…
But I care about her as a friend and nothing more.
I got that twisted up in my head for a short time. It won’t happen again.
“This seems to be going well, don’t you think?” Zane takes a seat beside me.
“Yeah, not bad.”
“Lyla’s nervous, which is understandable with it being her first video shoot, but I think we’re gonna get something good out of this.”
I look at him. “The actor is a bit of a prick.”
Zane stares at me. “You think? He seems all right to me.”
“Too preppy. Should have gone for someone more…hardcore. Tatted up. Rocker-looking.”
Me.
“Julio thought it would be a good look to have a clean-cut guy contrast her image and also to help keep things mainstream.”
Julio’s a prick as well.
I shrug. “Whatever. Guess he’ll have to do, not like you can bring in another actor now.”
Zane looks back out at the scene before us. “No, guess not,” he muses.
“So, we going out after this?” Den slumps into the chair on the other side of me and passes me a can of Coke.
“Yeah,” I answer, cracking the can open. Then, I get distracted by something Julio is saying.
“Lyla, honey, put your hands on Andy. We gotta make the audience believe you’re in love with him. Andy, take off your shirt. It might work better if we have a bit of skin to work with.”
Um…what the fuck? Why do they need his shirt off?
I can’t help the laugh that escapes, when Andy removes his shirt.
There’s not an ounce of man about him. Sure, he might be toned, but he’s all waxed chest and fake tan. I’m pretty sure he’s wearing guy-liner. He doesn’t even have a tattoo, for fuck’s sake. I mean, what kind of man doesn’t have a tattoo? The preppy kind—that’s who.
“So, what do you think?” Den’s voice filters through my thoughts.
Lyla now has her hands pressed against the prick’s chest, and he’s kissing her neck.
My hands clench into fists on my thighs. I have to drag my eyes away from the set. “What do I think of what?”
Den gives me a strange look. “I said, do you wanna go gambling before or after we go out clubbing?”
“Don’t care.” My eyes go straight back to Lyla.
She’s unbuttoning the top button on his pants.
What the hell?
Okay, top off—sure, I get that, kind of. But why the pants?
If she takes off his pants, I’m shutting this fucking circus down. We’re not shooting a porno here.
“Tom, you all right, man? You seem a bit distracted.”
My eyes flick to Den. “I’m not distracted.” I look back to Lyla.
Okay, we’re good. The little prick’s pants are still on. She was just unbuttoning them for a shot that Julio wanted to take.
Cool. All is goodish again.
Then, fucking Julio opens his mouth, “Lyla, honey, I think we should have you shirtless for this part. Top off, but keep your bra on. Skin on skin will make this work better.”
Hold the motherfucking phone.
I’m out of my seat, and before I realize it, I say, “Are you fucking serious? You really need her to take her top off? We’re not filming a goddamn porno here.”
Silence hits the room.
Julio turns and stares at me. Actually, everyone in here is staring at me. Lyla included.
I avert my eyes from her.
I’m acting like a jealous boyfriend.
I’m not a jealous boyfriend. No fucking way.
“Tom.” Zane gets out of his seat. “I know you’ve had a few issues with some of the ideas we had. Why don’t we go have a chat while they get this scene down? Then, we can bring your ideas back.”
Zane is actually being genuine. But now, I just feel like a complete dick, and I need to get the fuck out of here.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t have any ideas. Everything you’re doing is fine. I’ve got something I need to be doing”—drinking—“so I’ll catch you later.” I pick up my jacket, and I’m out of there like a shot.
“Wait up!” Den calls from behind me.
I slow my stride, but I don’t stop. I can’t even bring myself to look at him. I know what he’s thinking.
“What the fuck was that?” He laughs, sounding a little out of breath from running to catch up.
“What was what?”
“Um…your little outburst.”
“It was nothing.” There’s bite in my tone, but I don’t care. I stride ahead and stab at the button for the elevator.
We don’t speak again until we’re seated in the hotel bar, and our drinks are ordered.
“So, you’re screwing Lyla,” Den says, amusement in his voice.
It instantly raises my guard. I meet his stare with a glare. “Yes, I’m screwing Lyla. What of it?”
A grin slides onto his face. “I’m taking it you were jealous back there, watching her with that guy. That’s why you were acting like a complete fucking weirdo.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” I scoff. “I don’t get jealous.”
I was so jealous.
What the hell is happening to me?
“How long have you been banging her?”
I frown at him. “Jake been talking?”
He lets out a laugh. “No, surprisingly, Jake’s kept his mouth shut, which tells me he thinks this is as serious as I do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not serious. You know I don’t do serious.”
“So, how long?” he pushes.
I smile in thanks at the waitress who just brought our drinks over. I wait until she’s gone before answering, “About three weeks.”
“You fuck anyone else in that time?”
“What is this? Twenty fucking questions?”
He picks his drink up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’re not usually shy about sharing the details of your sex life.”
He’s right, I’m not. Motherfucker. I don’t want to say anything about Lyla and me, but I know he’ll turn this into a bigger thing if I don’t offer up the goods.
“Okay, fine. I’m only fucking Lyla. I haven’t fucked anyone else since I put my cock in her hole.”
“Holy shit!” He barks out a laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be with just one woman. Dude, I’m sorry to break this to you, but you’re in a relationship with Lyla.”
My heart stops. Dead.
I’m not.
Am I?
No.
No way. We’re just fuck buddies.
“I’m not in a relationship with her.”
“Yeah, and I’m Steve Jobs.”
“You do realize he’s dead, don’t you?”
“Fuck off! And whatever. You’re in a relationship with Lyla.”
“What are you? Five? I’m not in a relationship with Lyla, dickhead. She’s my fuck buddy.”
“Fuck buddies usually have sex with other people. That’s kinda the point. They have a regular, but they get to fuck others, too.”
“I know that, assface, but Lyla’s not that kinda girl, and I wanted to fuck her—badly. Seriously, have you seen how hot she is? And her tits are real, Den, motherfucking real. I haven’t touched real tits in years. All chicks seem to have that silicone shit nowadays. So, of course I agreed to exclusively fuck her until the tour is over. We bang as much as we want until we arrive back in LA. Then, it’s bye-bye, birdie.”
What’s that pain in my chest?
“You’re in denial.” He shakes his head, chuckling.
I rub at my sternum
. “I’m not in denial.”
“You are so in denial. You like this girl, Tom. I can tell. I’ve known you for a long fucking time, and I’ve never seen you look at a chick the way you were looking at her—let alone, sign yourself up for exclusivity to one. And don’t even get me started on the jealously thing.”
“I wasn’t fucking jealous,” I growl. “And you’re barking up the wrong tree. All I want from Lyla is her tight pussy and awesome rack.”
“Nope.” He smirks. “You like her.”
“Of course I like her, fucknut. She’s a cool chick. She has the best tits I’ve ever seen, and she fucks like a porn star. What’s not to like?”
“Nah…you like her, like her.”
“You’re spending way too much time with Simone. You’re actually starting to sound like her. Have you grown pubic hair on that pussy of yours?”
Giving me the middle finger, he says, “I’m guessing Lyla likes you, too, since she’s letting you in her bed. She doesn’t strike me as the sleep-around type.”
“She’s not.”
That raises another know-it-all grin from him. “So, you like her, and she likes you. Why don’t you just see where this thing goes?”
“Because it’ll go nowhere.” I sit up, rubbing my head at the ache brought on by his bitching. “Can we just drop it now and get to drinking?” I pick up my whiskey.
Den’s face turns serious, and he sits forward, elbows on the table. “Tom, being with Lyla, finally letting yourself be in a relationship, wouldn’t be a bad thing. It could be a really great thing. You’re not your father. Things won’t—”
“Seriously,” I snap, “shut the fuck up. We’re not talking about this.” I drive my hand through my hair, feeling on edge, and then I down my drink and signal the waitress back over.
“Okay, keep your fucking panties on.” He picks up his own drink and downs it. “All I’m saying is, I think you’ll be making a colossal mistake if you walk away from Lyla at the end of this tour. You could have something really great with her if you give it a chance.”
Later That Night—Hotel Room, Mandalay Bay Hotel, Las Vegas
I’m in my pajamas, Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love” playing on the TV, when there’s a knock at my door.
Butterflies in my stomach, hoping it’s Tom, I climb out of bed and pad my way over to the door.
I pull it open, the butterflies instantly turning into lightning bugs when I see him.
I keep the relief from my face, not sure as to where we stand at the moment. Tom was clearly pissed off earlier at the shoot. That was loud and clear from his outburst and exit.
Cale noticed Tom’s behavior, and he questioned me about it at dinner earlier. I downplayed it, saying I had no clue what it was about. I told Cale that Tom was just probably in a bad mood or something.
Tom’s behavior at the shoot has been on my mind all night. I’ve been running around in circles, trying to figure out what it means, what’s going on with him.
“Hi,” he says, his hands lift to the doorframe above his head, fingers gripping it.
With his movement, his shirt lifts, showing me his delicious six-pack. My belly instantly squeezes with lust.
Opening the door wider, I step back to let him in.
As he brushes past, I catch a whiff of whiskey on his breath.
The smell of whiskey on Tom somehow makes him even hotter.
I’ve barely gotten the door closed when his body is pressing mine up against it.
“I didn’t like seeing that dickhead’s hands on you.” His voice is a low growl.
The force of his words shudders a breath from me.
I guess that answers my plaguing question. He was jealous.
“I didn’t like his hands on me either, but it was just acting, Tom. You of all people know how it is. I’ve seen your music videos, remember?”
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavy. “I just—fuck, I don’t get jealous, Firecracker. I’m not that guy. But seeing him with you…” His eyes meet mine, burning with an intensity, the likes I’ve never known. “Today, I am that guy.” Then, his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
I wind my fingers into his hair, opening up for him.
I’m desperate for him. I was so scared that he was mad at me, and things have been so different between us since Kentucky, so to have him here, saying this to me, I couldn’t be happier.
Yes, it scares me that I’m relying on Tom for my happiness.
But right now, I’m brushing that aside, and just focusing on the now and how I feel when I’m with him.
We’re tearing at each other’s clothes, like we’re in a race to see who can undress the other the quickest.
Tom wins.
He picks me up, kicks off his jeans from around his ankles, and carries me to bed.
He brings us both down to the mattress, supporting his weight with his hand.
“You’re mine,” he says low. “For this tour, you belong to me.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yours.” I cup his face in my hands and bring my lips up to his.
Rough fingers climb my thigh. I lift my leg, hooking it around his hip, my heel digging into his ass.
His fingers find me wet and waiting.
“So fucking wet…always ready for me.” He slants his mouth over mine at the exact moment that he pushes a finger inside me.
My back arches up, pushing my breasts into his chest.
He lowers his head, taking my nipple into his mouth, and he teases it with his tongue. “I need inside you so fucking bad.” His deep voice rumbles through me. I feel it everywhere.
“What are you waiting for?” I give him a sexy, sassy smile.
Burning jades meet my blues. “Firecracker, you know I’m a greedy man. I need my starters first. Then, I’ll dine in your pussy…and for dessert, I’ll have you sitting on my face.”
Holy fuck.
Tom moves off me, reaching for his jeans, he gets his wallet from the pocket.
“Shit,” he groans.
“What’s wrong?” I sit up.
He drives a hand through his hair. “I’m out of condoms.”
He’s out of condoms?
How is that possible?
Tom always has condoms on him. And yes, the knowledge that the guy sack carries condoms around with him is a mental challenge I battle every day.
“I knew I’d run out. I meant to go to the store to get some, but I forgot. I was eager to get back to you.”
He was eager to get back to me. My heart sprouts wings and flutters out of my chest.
“Well, you know I haven’t got any.” I blow stray hairs off my face.
Tom sits down beside me. “Are you on the pill?”
“Yes…”
“Okay, so why don’t we just go without this time?”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m not drunk. And even if I were, what’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, I just know that sober you wouldn’t suggest going bareback.”
Leaning close, he hovers his lips over mine. “I’ve been drinking tonight, sure, but I’m far from drunk. I can hold my liquor, Firecracker. Point is, I’m not a patient man. I don’t want to have to wait to be inside you.”
“Tom…” I press my hands against his chest, putting some distance between us. Having him this close is starting to cloud my judgment. “I’m not sure. I mean, it’s just…you’ve slept with a lot of women.”
He gives me a less than amused look. “And you’ve slept with other guys, one who used to bang dudes, but I’m not asking for your sexual history sheet.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my face prickling with hurt, as I turn away from him. “Jesus, Tom. That was low.”
“Fuck.” He grabs my chin, forcing my eyes back to his. “I’m sorry, babe, that came out wrong. I just mean…I trust you.” Climbing up on the bed, he positions himself between my legs, pressing me back into the mattress. Arms either side of my head,
he stares down at me. “I trust you, and I want you to trust me, too. I’m clean, I promise. I have regular checkups. And I never go bareback. I’ve singlehandedly kept Trojan in business for the last fifteen years. You have nothing to worry about.”
Fifteen years? He started having sex when he was fourteen?
How am I surprised by this? This is Tom Carter we’re talking about.
And I was just starting to consider maybe giving in after his whole trust thing. But now, all I have ringing in my ears is, I’ve singlehandedly kept Trojan in business for the last fifteen years.
Nice reminder of his whoring ways. I feel sick.
I hold back the rising bile and clip out, “Nothing to worry about? Oh, okay…” I can feel my anger climbing to epic proportions. Only he can get under my skin this way. I try not to think just what that means. “I gotta say, Tom, I feel a whole lot better about your proposal of letting you have sex with me bare-fucking-back,” I yell, “when you just reminded me that in the past you’ve been ridden more times than an elevator in the Empire State Building!”
His eyes narrow. “You knew all along who you were getting into bed with, sweetheart.”
“Ugh! Sometimes, I wonder what the hell I’m doing with you.” I don’t mean that. But I’m angry, and when I’m angry, I’m not rational.
I push against his rock-hard chest and start wiggling, trying to get out from underneath him.
But Tom is a lot bigger and a lot stronger than me. Pinning me with his hips, he grabs my hands and holds them tight against the pillows above my head. I can’t budge an inch. And I don’t like it one bit.
“You know exactly why you’re with me. Because I fuck you like no man ever has before or ever will again.”
Not impressed, I scowl up at him. “Let. Me. Go.”
“No. Seems you need reminding of a few things. One, I am always the one who does the riding, not the other way round. The bedroom is my domain.”
Shifting his hips, he presses the bare length of his hard cock against my clit. I have to bite back a moan. But my body shudders, giving me away. I hate the way my body betrays me when it comes to him.
He smirks. “You got that, or do you need a little more reminding?”
Ignoring my body’s screaming needs, I snap out, “Fuck you!”
“We’ll be doing that real soon, but for now, just answer the goddamn question. I said, you got that, or do I need to remind you again?” He thrusts against me, harder. It’s more precise this time, hitting that perfect spot.