His Every Choice (12 page)

“We’re going back to the old ways,” he said, violently ripping her panties off.

She took a shuddering breath. Even though it was more like a game now, this excited
her. Despite the knowing that it wasn’t real, Kallie was intensely excited by the
control he was taking.

The cool basement air felt strange and sensual against her bare private parts.

“Now, you must be punished.” He stepped back. She could hear him moving away from
her and then there was a whisking, snapping sound and she felt a stinging lash against
her bottom.

She cried out. The pain was significant, stinging and harsh. But yes—she enjoyed
it. Her pussy was moist.

“Another.” The same sharp crack against her bare buttocks.

“One more.” And the final one, snapping against her ass as she inhaled in pain.

She let out a shuddering, whimpering breath.

Hunter was suddenly against her from behind, pressing his erection against her butt
while one hand grabbed her breast firmly. The other hand slid to the wetness between
her legs. Before she knew it, he’d slid his cock into her from behind while he simultaneously
rubbed her clitoris with his hand.

He fucked her hard, making her come twice in the span of a few minutes.

“Now, I’m going to finish off.” He thrust into her, grunting, biting softly on her
earlobe as he came, his stomach slapping her ass with each hard pounding.

When he was done, he started releasing her from her bondage.

“How do you feel now?” he asked her, as he freed her hands.

She turned and smiled at him. “I think it worked.”

They turned the lights off in the basement, walking back upstairs together, joking
and laughing.

Maybe everything in life wasn’t perfect, Kallie thought, as she went to bed with her
man. Maybe there were still problems, and maybe they wouldn’t just be solved overnight.

But she was loved.

And that, it turned out, really was enough for her.

***

Scarlett was sitting in her apartment on the computer when Bryson called.

It had been days since she’d gone to his apartment to try and figure out what he needed
help with, and since then he hadn’t been in touch. She’d started to wonder if this
new job had already turned into another busted opportunity—maybe it was time to start
surfing the web for waitressing opportunities.

But then her cell had started buzzing on the table, and when she’d picked it up, the
caller ID said BRYSON in big, bold letters.

Part of her was relieved and another part of her was annoyed. As usual. She answered,
trying to sound neutral and busy, as if she hadn’t just spent the last twenty-four
hours eating junk food and reading YouTube comments. “Hello, this is Scarlett.”

“Hey, Scarlett. It’s Bryson.”

“Oh, hi Bryson,” she said, still pretending this was some surprise that she was taking
in stride while out doing fun and interesting things in New York City.

“Sorry I haven’t been in touch,” he said. “Rewrites.”

“Sure.” She flipped her hair, waited for what was next.

“Anyway,” he sighed, “I kind of have a big favor to ask you.”

She pursed her lips. “Just say it already.”

“I know it’s short notice, but I need you to come out to a nightclub with me tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because Eliza asked me to meet her and Dale out at some swanky club in the city and
I really don’t want to go by myself.”

Scarlett was beyond annoyed at his request. She couldn’t believe the nerve of this
guy, to drop this on her at the last minute. It was already almost six o’clock and
she would only have a couple of hours to get ready. On top of that, he hadn’t given
her anything else to do at all since they’d last met, even though there was clearly
tons of stuff she could have been doing.

“This doesn’t really seem like it fits my job description,” she told him.

“Yes it does. I need help and you’re my assistant.”

“Glad you noticed,” she said. “It would be nice to get some real assistant work like
making phone calls, answering emails, planning your schedule, setting up appointments.”

“This is for the movie. This will assist me greatly.”

“This is a social event and I have nothing to wear.”

“You’ll look great—I know it.”

She sighed. Her stomach was in knots at the thought of going to some crazy hipster
club where every woman would be an actress or a model and she would be—well, herself.
“I don’t think I could be much help.”

“Please. Scarlett, I’m begging you. I’ve been so anxious about this and I really
need you there with me.”

“Fine,” she said, hating that she had no choice but to do this. “Tell me where and
when and I’ll be there.”

“Oh my God, Scarlett, you’re a lifesaver!”

“You owe me one, Bryson.”

“I owe you a million.”

He told her he’d text her the address and then they got off the phone. Scarlett went
to prep, so that she might look hot and sexy and like she slightly belonged at this
fancy nightclub that she had no interest in going to.

***

They agreed to meet outside the club at nine-thirty, on the corner, so they could
go in together. Bryson had mentioned that he’d be on the guest list, so she wouldn’t
have probably been able to get in on her own anyhow.

By the time the cab dropped her off, she was in a near frenzy of anxiety. It had
been hard to find an appropriate outfit, but she’d finally settled on a sexy black
dress that had never seemed quite appropriate for most occasions. She’d done her
makeup a little heavier than usual, as well, which might have been a mistake, because
now she was self-conscious about it.

What if she was the ugliest girl there? What if people knew she didn’t really belong?

She calmed herself, saying that none of these things were real possibilities, they
were just her anxiety talking. It’s just a job, she told herself. It’s not personal.

The taxi dropped her off on the corner near the nightclub, where there was already
a huge line of people stretching nearly to where she stood.

Bryson didn’t have appeared to have arrived yet, so Scarlett just took in the scene.

Now that she was finally there, it didn’t feel quite as intimidating. Just another
nightclub in the city, and she’d been to plenty over the years.

The people standing in line didn’t look much different from people standing in line
for any other club.

“Hey, Scarlett!” a voice called out. She looked over and saw Bryson coming toward
her from across the street.

He started to cross, and she had a chance to see him objectively, almost as if it
was her first time meeting him. And in some ways it did seem like a first meeting,
since he looked different than any other occasion. For one thing, he’d put some gel
in his hair or something—it looked styled in that messy, funky way some guys did.
And it worked, she had to admit. He was clean-shaven, wearing a dark black shirt
and jeans, all of which fit him perfectly and accentuated his lithe, muscular frame.

Previously when she’d seen him, Bryson had looked hot in the way that a surfer might
look, relaxed and dressed down. She hadn’t really thought he could ever do anything
but the whole laidback jock persona. But seeing him like this, she realized that
there really might be more to him than met the eye.

“Hey,” she said, as he got closer.

“Thanks so much for meeting me here,” he smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“That’s me,” she said. “A regular Mother Theresa.”

“Well, let’s not get carried away. We’re not feeding the poor and caring for the
wretched.” He winked. “Come on, let’s do this. You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He started toward the club. “Now, let’s just agree to stick together, no matter what.
At least we’ll have each other.”

“Agreed.”

They didn’t bother getting in line, but instead Bryson led them right to the door,
where an enormous bouncer dressed in black found Bryson +1 on the guest list and let
them in.

Bryson took a deep breath and looked at her. “Moment of truth. I’m texting Eliza
that we’re here.” He quickly texted into his phone as they made their way into a
dark hallway, where the bass drum of heavy music echoed out from the main club area.

Strobe lights were slightly disorienting, but gave a feeling of anonymity.

They started walking again, staying close to one another, which Scarlett had to admit
was rather comforting. No matter what, even if the actors ignored them, they could
still at least talk to each other.

The main dance floor was packed with people—a lot of skinny girls wearing next to
nothing, dancing and writhing to the music. As she looked around, it occurred to
Scarlett why everyone standing out in line had looked so normal.

It turned out that they didn’t let the normal people into this club.

A bar off to the side was also so packed that Scarlett could hardly imagine ordering
a drink. Usually, a girl like her could get to a busy bar and attract the bartender’s
attention by virtue of being a reasonably cute female—but Scarlett didn’t think her
charms would work here.

“Shit, there she is!” Bryson yelled out.

She could barely hear him over the noise. “What?”

“Eliza’s right there!” he yelled.

And then Scarlett saw her—Eliza Johnston, in the flesh, wearing dark skinny jeans
that seemed to accentuate her amazingly sexy hips, a glimmering sequined shirt that
showed off her flat tummy, and that face which had graced billboards and big screens
around the world.

In person, she was magnetic to look at, and not just because Scarlett was aware that
she was a famous actress.

Her cheekbones were high and almost feline, her eyes brooding and sensual. Her dark
hair fell perfectly over her forehead, down to her shoulders. Her skin looked soft
and flawless. When Eliza saw Bryson, her mouth curved into a dangerous smile. She
waved him over to where she was standing, and the next thing Scarlett knew, he’d disappeared
from her side and was rushing to greet his leading lady.

Scarlett had been left in the dust.

The two of them were immediately talking, their faces so close together they could
practically have been kissing.

There were a couple of amazingly stunning women standing next to Eliza that were likely
her friends, but they were almost as intimidating as she was, and they didn’t look
very friendly. Besides, what was Scarlett going to do? Walk up and yell, Hi, I’m
Bryson’s assistant—that guy you don’t know who’s directing a movie you’ve never heard
of!

It didn’t make sense.

Instead, she decided to go stand by the bar and pretend to try and order a drink.

As she stood there, feeling lonelier and less useful than she’d perhaps ever felt
in her entire life, she watched Bryson talking to Eliza. They seemed to be hitting
it off incredibly well, and the actress was constantly touching his arm, smiling and
laughing at whatever he said.

Scarlett felt a burning sense of humiliation at having been dropped so quickly after
going out of her way to help him.

The truth was that he hadn’t needed her at all.

This was a waste of time. This was ridiculous.

She was almost about to leave the club entirely. Bryson wouldn’t know the difference,
that much was sure. She had been right about his arrogance and selfishness—

she hadn’t misjudged him. He’d been exactly what she’d taken him for at first glance,
charming, good looking jerk who only cared about himself.

As she was readying to head for the exit, she noticed Bryson pointing at her. He
was talking to someone else now, a guy. Actually, not just a random guy—Bryson was
talking to Dale Nolan and pointing at Scarlett.

Dale was lanky, a little shorter than Bryson, with fine, dirty blond hair that he
kept in a ponytail and a beard that would have looked bad on most men—which somehow
looked completely hot and perfect on him. Dale Nolan was terrifically handsome, although
a little on the thin side for Scarlett’s tastes, and he was known as one of the greatest
actors of the younger generation.

And he was heading towards her.

She tried to smile as he approached. When he got close, he held out his hand and
she shook it. He held on longer than expected—much longer. “You must be the mysterious
Scarlett everyone’s been talking about.”

“That’s me. And you must be the famous movie star everyone’s been talking about.”

He didn’t laugh. At first, she thought she’d made a huge mistake, but then he looked
her up and down. “Well, aren’t you the most luscious piece of fruit in here.”

“Thanks. I think.” She adjusted her dress self-consciously.

“Let me get you a drink, darling. What do you take?” His hand moved to her lower
back now, almost touching her ass.

“Uh---vodka tonic?”

She was flustered by his immediate flirtations and sexual energy. It was completely
unexpected, though not totally unwanted. After all, at least someone was giving her
attention—and one of the biggest movie stars, at that.

The bartender spotted him immediately and nodded to him.

Dale held up a hand and two fingers popped up. “Two vodka tonics!” he shouted.

Some women nearby noticed him and began staring. They looked giddy and almost swooned
as they realized who he was.

Oh, and he still had his hand on Scarlett’s ass. She couldn’t believe this.

A moment later, he was passing her a drink in a little plastic cup and holding one
himself.

“So,” he said, his eyes again looking her up and down.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Bryson yet?” she asked.

He shrugged. “A little. I’d rather talk to you.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Let’s really talk about you,” he said. “What are your turn-ons?”

She laughed. He must be putting her on. A man who could have any woman at any time—supermodels,
actresses, anyone—did not have to be this absurdly flirtatious.