Crowd Pleaser Page 10

  On a whim, I call him again from the Rover.

  “I’m busy,” he says in a gruff voice before hanging up.

  “This mother…,” I mutter and climb out.

  I don’t know why I’m angry. That’s not true. He all but called me a whore. I don’t know that I’ve met someone so hypocritical before in my life, and that’s saying something since I grew up around lawyers and politicians.

  Scenarios on how I’m going to confront him run through my head, but when I bang on the door and he pulls it open, my mind goes blank. I’ve got nothing. All of the well thought up insults I’d planned are like mist floating away.

  He’s shirtless, basketball shorts hanging so low on his hips I can’t help but stare at the dark line of hair trailing toward what I know is a magnificent cock.

  “I told you I’m fucking busy.” He turns from the door but doesn’t shut it.

  Using it as my in, I follow behind him up the stairs to his room. My steps falter as I enter. His cologne, always so sharp on his skin engulfs me in his private space.

  “Did you get the email?”

  I nearly cry out in distress when he tugs a shirt over his head, but watching his back muscles work to get it on is almost euphoric.

  “I got it.” He busies himself with rearranging his dresser top, ignoring me. Being angry at me is ridiculous.

  “Do you want to rehearse?”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  I shrug even though his back is to me. “Because Vic sent a script. There’s a certain way he wants it.”

  “He wants you to be all over some other guy. I’m to show up and get pissed. I’ll punish you by fucking you hard against the wall.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t have to practice fucking against a wall?” I’m trying to be playful, trying to get him out of whatever asshole mood he’s in, but I recoil when he spins around glaring at me.

  “You think I have to practice how angry I’m going to be when I walk in to see some guy pawing at you?” He shakes his head. “I want to kill whoever it is right now, and it hasn’t even happened yet.”

  “Are you jealous?” I purr and take a couple of steps closer to him.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Cici.”

  That stings. I know he’s using my show name on purpose. It’s another way for him to hurt me since his words the other day didn’t damage me enough in his eyes.

  I stop, letting my hands fall to my sides. “If you don’t want to do the videos anymore, all you have to do is call Vic and opt out.”

  He doesn’t respond immediately. He studies my eyes, looking for something. Answers maybe? Emotions I can’t chance having.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Your life would be so much easier if you were fucking a different guy every week.”

  I shake my head and speak the truth before I can talk myself out of it.

  “I’d rather hate fuck you than make videos with any other guy on the planet.”

  His sneer softens but doesn’t disappear completely.

  “But only six more times, right?”

  “Four,” I correct with a playful grin.

  He takes two steps in my direction, and my skin tingles in anticipation of his touch. “Tell me the truth.”

  I swallow, but it doesn’t help the lump in my throat. “The truth doesn’t matter.”

  He pauses. “I don’t think you understand the details of the contract, but we’ll visit that later. Were you the one who put the idea for this scenario in Vic’s head? Are you purposely wanting to anger me? Force my hand? Make me jealous?”

  Smiling, I look up at him when he gets so close he’s looming over me.

  “You really did deactivate all of your social media accounts, didn’t you?” Nodding, he caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s intimate. Too damn personal for porn actors. “It was an IG poll. If you were active, you’d know that.”

  “Speaking of poles,” he whispers with a flex of his hips.

  I take a step back, but he moves with me.

  “Anyway,” I say, turning so my back is against him. “Followers made suggestions. The top five were put in a poll, and then they voted. Seems jealous boyfriend was the winner, but I’m pretty sure it was a horde of petty bitches that just want me to look even more like a whore.”

  “I want to fuck you,” he breathes against my neck.

  Yes, please.

  “I’ll go slow and sweet this time. Then fuck you into oblivion Saturday night.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” I pant as his warmth caresses my back and his hand wanders down my stomach.

  “If hard is what you’re looking for—” His thickness presses to my lower back and my pussy weeps for him.

  I turn in his arms, coming to my senses mere seconds before his fingers make it inside of my yoga pants.

  My intentions were to push him away and make a quippy comment about leashing his dick until Saturday, but his mouth meets mine before I can get the words out. I short-circuit, my brain fries and all I can think about is wrapping my legs around him to get a better feel for what he’s offering me.

  “God, you’re so hard,” I whisper against his lips as he pushes me against the bedroom door.

  “And I bet you’re soaked.” I nod, lips brushing him in confession. “I need you, but fast and hard. Soft and sweet isn’t my thing.”

  “You’ll get fucked how I want you to,” he warns with a sharp pull of my hair.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  The wandering fingers I stopped earlier go unchecked back down my body until one expert tip is taunting my clit from the outside of my clothes.

  “Fuck,” I hiss when the shrill ring of my phone blares from my purse.

  “Ignore it,” he commands.

  “Can’t.”

  God, I hate yoga right now.

  “I have a class to teach.”

  “Skip it.” He shrugs, unconcerned just like I expect a man with a trust fund to be.

  “I need the money.”

  “I’ll pay you twice what they’re paying you to stick around for a couple of hours.”

  It’s as if he poured ice-cold water over the top of my head before tossing me into a deep freezer.

  I push him away from me, but the idiot still has heat in his eyes. He doesn’t even fucking realize what he’s just offered. I can tell he thinks I’m taking him up on the suggestion, and I’m going to strip naked and let him fuck me.

  “Sorry, baby.” I trail a finger down his cheek, resisting the urge to scratch his pretty fucking face with the nail. “I only get paid to fuck on videos.”

  “I’m going to fuck you twice as hard on Saturday.”

  “Can’t wait,” I say with my back to him around the lump growing in my throat.

  The oblivious fucktwat. One minute he’s pissed about some guy having his hands on me and the next he’s offering me money like a hooker to fuck me.

  Thankfully, the tears that sting my eyes all the way down the stairs and back to the Rover don’t fall until I’m at a stop sign two blocks away. It’s then that I realize, Jake is just like every other guy with a hard dick between his legs. He doesn’t function and can’t think right with testosterone raging war inside of his body.

  Chapter 18

  Jake

  “Why are you up here when the party is raging downstairs?”

  Taking a step away from my open bedroom door, I give Hunter access to my room.

  “My girlfriend is down there cheating on me,” I mutter and sit back down on the edge of my bed.

  “Girlfriend?” He laughs. “Fuck my life, Jake. Have you fallen for the porn star?”

  “No,” I answer too quickly.

  “Did she back out of the contract?”

  “Tonight is scripted.”

  “Scripted,” he scoffs. “Even reality porn is composed. Is anything sacred anymore?”

  I chuckle at his bemusement. “Porn has always been scripted. You think women—”

  He
raises an eyebrow.

  “Or men, actually get picked up on the side of the road, and ten minutes later they’re down for a gang bang?”

  He fans himself at the thought. “One could hope.”

  “She’s gotten to me,” I confess, knowing he may give me shit about it, but he really won’t judge me.

  “Well, you better get downstairs because she’s gotten to someone else tonight, and you’re not going to like what you see.”

  I wait a couple more minutes after he’s gone before locking up my room and heading downstairs.

  Joey is on the dance floor, camera in hand already filming. I regret not downing a bottle of whiskey before coming down here because when I fully step inside of the room I know I’m going to jail for murder tonight.

  Carlos, the frat president, has his hands all over her. One is pressing her shirt up until her breast is revealed. That motherfucker has his mouth wrapped around her nipple. She is supposed to be acting, but seeing the way his eyes are closed, I know that piece of shit is in heaven.

  Clenching my fists, I’m ready to beat the hell out of him. It’s been a long time coming, and we both knew we’d come to blows eventually.

  A hand grabs my arm. “It’s scripted, remember?”

  I shrug Hunter off and storm through the people dancing. They begin to part once one person sees the look on my face and it has a domino effect the closer I get. Chatter begins, the room thrumming with a violent edge. Everyone wants to see a fight, and they know it’s not a college party without that or fucking.

  Forethought has me pushing Carlos off of her. The last thing I need to do is punch him in the face causing him to hurt her. Her pain, her punishment is my responsibility.

  “Fuck off, Kortright. She’s mine for tonight,” Carlos spits but doesn’t make a move to get closer.

  “You can have her in a few weeks when I’m done with her,” I spit before turning my full attention back to Cici. I can’t even picture her as Randi right now.

  She takes a step back when I attempt to get closer. I’d be lying if I said the fear in her eyes didn’t make me hard. I’m stiff to the point of pain and damn near feral with the need to mark her as mine.

  “Don’t forget we’re acting,” she whispers.

  “Don’t worry, Cici.” Her eyes widen. “I’ll never forget exactly what you are.”

  My hand is in her hair, my mouth bruising her lips before she can respond. Gripping her ass hard enough to leave bruises, I bite at her neck. I expect her to push me away. I even anticipate a slap to the face for the way I’m acting. Scripted or not, I should never treat a woman like this, and before her, I never would’ve even pooled enough energy to be concerned with what some chick was doing when I wasn’t around. That knowledge pisses me off more than anything. I may be the one seizing her flesh with my hands, but she’s the one with her claws in me.

  “Take my cock out,” I hiss when I’m sure she’s not wanting to get away from me.

  Lower lip clenched between her teeth, she never pulls her eyes from mine as she deftly works my top button and the zipper down on my jeans.

  My attempt at being unaffected by her flies out the fucking window when the warmth of her small hands encapsulates my cock.

  “You’re being mean,” she complains softly.

  “It won’t stop you from coming,” I hiss.

  With panting breaths and a tremble in my hands I can’t seem to shake, I turn her around, guiding her to the sofa.

  I have to redirect her when she aims toward the cushions.

  “Bend over,” I direct pointing to the arm.

  She’s so petite when she bends with her stomach curving over the rounded end of the couch, her feet leave the ground. Without leverage to move away from me, the position is perfect.

  “Did you like his mouth on you?” I flip up her skirt when all I really want to do is redden her ass. I don’t have any idea what her limits are, so it’s not a liberty I can take right now.

  “Can’t turn a whore into a housewife,” Carlos yells from somewhere in the room.

  The round of chuckles that fill the room with the comment makes me feel like shit. I wish I could see her face, see how it affected her, but her face is buried between the back of the couch and the cushions. She acts tough, but words sometimes sting more than a physical blow ever could.

  In an attempt to ease whatever discomfort she feels, I sweep my finger down her seam. I know she’s still on board with the scene when her ass wiggles.

  “Did you like his mouth on you?” I repeat.

  Pulling her head back, she looks over her shoulder. Cheeks flushed, breaths rushing out in quick pants betray her arousal. The slickness coating my finger is another sign she’s down with what’s happening.

  “It’s nothing like yours,” she says loud enough for the room to hear. “He was like a fumbling boy, wouldn’t know how to please a woman even if he majored in it in college.”

  The second round of laughter is louder than the first. Good for her for taking her power back.

  “Spread yourself for me,” I urge as I stroke my cock.

  Pulling the thin strip of her thong to the side, I slide it under the fingertips holding herself open for me. I have to squeeze the base of my cock to slow things down at the sight of her pink, glistening slit.

  “You want to share this perfect pussy with someone else tonight?”

  I press my index and middle finger into her before she can respond. If she answers wrong, she won’t be able to sit down for a month.

  “Hmm?” I ask.

  “No one can fuck me like you do,” she finally answers, and I smile at the ring of truth to it. “I don’t want anyone else.”

  Curling over her back, I continue to probe her with my fingers.

  “I’m so mad at you right now,” I confess near her ear before biting her shoulder.

  “Show me,” she begs, cunt clenching around my fingers.

  That’s all it takes for me to withdraw my fingers and grip her hair with them. I want her smell, my smell, our smell all over her. I don’t know if the ponytail she’s wearing tonight is her prediction that I’d be pulling her hair, but it has to go.

  As much as I hate releasing my cock, I use both hands to remove the hair elastic. I toss it to the side and let the silky, brown locks fall all around her. I want her feeling messy, sore, and thoroughly used when I’m done with her.

  Sweeping a full fist of it in my hand, I pull until her back is arching.

  “No more hiding,” I hiss just as I slam inside of her.

  If she could get traction with her feet, I know she would’ve tried to get away. I’m a lot to take in even with copious amounts of foreplay and conditioning.

  “Oh God!” she screams, and I know it’s not a part of the act. She’s overwhelmed, but the rush of lubrication now coating the full length of my cock is enough to urge me to continue.

  “Jealousy,” I bark as I pull back and slam into her again. “Isn’t the way to fucking test me, Cici.”

  A whimper is the only response I get.

  I let it all go. The anger. The irritation that this is her job. The confusion about how she’s so easily gotten under my skin. All of it. I concentrate on the slippery grip of her pussy. I concentrate on the ache in my nuts telling me to release all over her back.

  I almost do it. I’m seconds away from marking her tank top and strands of her hair with my cum, and the deep rumble from her throat is enough to finish me off. She’s going to hate me for embarrassing her. The least I can do is make sure she gets hers.

  “If you want it,” I grit through clenched teeth, “you’re gonna have to get it yourself.”

  Mewling like a cat in heat, she removes her hands from her ass and raises up, hands on the couch cushion and presses harder against me.

  “Why don’t you ever fuck me like that?” a girl to the side asks.

  “So fucking hot,” some guy says.

  “Jake!” Randi screams just as her body jolts.

&
nbsp; The rhythmic grasp of her pussy around my cock is the only cue I need. I tug free of her with only a moment to spare before painting her back and hair with jets of cum.

  Stumbling back two steps, I regard the sight of her with admiration that is still tinged with my anger as I tuck myself back into my jeans. Body still zinging from my orgasm, I walk away.

  Chapter 19

  Randi

  He left?

  He just fucking left me here, my back striped with his semen in a room full of college students. He couldn’t even be bothered to flip my goddammed skirt back over my ass.

  “Let me help you.”

  I shrug off the gentle touch to my shoulder as I stand. The guilt when I see Hunter looking down at me barely registers.

  “Bathroom?” I ask looking down so I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone in the room. I’ve never felt like more of a whore in my life. I want to run out of this house and never look back, but getting jizz all over my leather seats isn’t going to happen.

  “Follow me.”

  Joey meets me in the hall with a full glass of tequila and a Plan B pill.

  “Just in case,” he mutters before walking away.

  I accept both. Tossing the tequila back, the burn down my throat a much-needed sensation is in competition with the emotion stinging it already.

  The Plan B, although not needed, I tuck into the small pocket I normally stash the night’s condom in.

  “Don’t let him break you,” Hunter pleads before he disappears down the hallway.

  Locking myself in the room, I remove my shirt. Finding it covered in cum, I simply toss it in the trash. Walking out of here in my bra and skirt with my head held high is something I can manage.

  Heavy eyelids and messy hair meet me when I look in the mirror. The warmth of the tequila warms my already overheated body. I won’t give a voice to the thoughts in my head. I won’t allow for another second tonight the realization that although Jake just humiliated me in front of no less than thirty people, I came like a freight train amongst the degradation and shame.