Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 1: Drake (7 page)

I can sense the pain in his voice.

“When Sorcha refused to have sex with me, I acted immaturely. You know that famous scene where she’s full frontal and I’m also totally nude, but shot from behind? Well, I had the great idea not to wear the modesty pouch like I was supposed to – you know, it’s a little sock that hides your junk. And I mentally worked myself into a state of arousal so that when she pulled my towel off, I had a raging hard-on. Due to the angle of the shot, the crew had no idea what was going on. Sorcha barely flinched, then continued with the scene, having to hug me like that. We filmed another thirty seconds with my hard cock twitching against her stomach. And she did such an amazing take that the director didn’t bother shooting it a second time.

Afterward, she pretended nothing had happened, but kissed me on the cheek and whispered, ‘You’re an asshole and I’ll never work with you again.’ Anyway, it was a stupid thing to do and could have hurt my career if word got out about it, but Sorcha was kind enough never to mention it. I’m still grateful that she took the high road. But the rest of that shoot was agony, as was the press tour afterward, when we had to pretend like everything was fine between us.”

“I’m guessing you’d rather I not print that?” I ask.

He mulls it over, then says, “Yeah, I’d prefer nobody know about that. Just say I continued to try to hook up with Sorcha after she told me she wasn’t interested. And that I now understand I crossed a line.”

“Do you think—“

“Don’t make me seem too wimpy about it, though,” he says. “I have a reputation to maintain. I’m not sure why I told you.”

“Because you promised to be honest with me.” I sense that he’s about to go into a funk, so I try to lighten the mood. “And because I tried to show you my naked body last night.”

When he laughs, I slip in a follow-up question. “Speaking of nudity, actresses are asked to do nude scenes all the time. That’s very unfair, to require women to do something men are reluctant, or even afraid, to do. Would you do a nude scene if asked?” Let’s see how much he believes in equal rights.

“I’m guessing you mean full-frontal, right? Because I’m shirtless in movies all the time, and have even shown my ass twice.”

“Really? I’ll have to rent those two films,” I say, only half kidding.

Manning stops and turns his back to me, then before I can say anything he pulls his sweats down, exposing his bare ass. In the split second that I can’t help but look, I see how glorious it is. Then I swat him on the arm.

“You pervert! Exposing yourself to girls in the park!”

“You said you wanted to see it.”

“In the movie! Now answer my question.”

“It depends,” he says. “It would have to be the right role, for the right reasons. But yeah, I would probably show my cock to the world.”

I look down so he won’t see my reaction to hearing him say that word. It doesn’t matter, though, because when I say, “Your question,” he comes right back to it.

“What did you think last night on my driveway when you realized I had a hard-on?”

Again I stop walking and look at him, amused by his brazen attempts to steer everything back to sex. Before I can answer, he adds, “That’s my question, and you have to answer honestly.”

I stare blankly and he says, “You did realize you’d given me a boner, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I realized it, Drake. It was impossible not to notice,” I say, fumbling for words. “Let’s just say that when it happened, I thought you must be enjoying that kiss as much as I was.”

Quickly changing the subject, I say, “My turn now. Here’s one for your countless female fans: Describe your perfect woman.”

It occurs to me that I’m actually enjoying this give-and-take with Manning. Hell, I’ve enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with him thus far. He’s an arrogant prick, certainly, but engaging and fun.

“If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have told you I like stupid young blondes with sexy tight gym bodies. That’s most of what you meet in this town, and I’ve always thought those types are better for fucking.”

Then he looks right at me and says, “Now I’m not so sure. I kind of like having a woman who can hold my interest with her brains.”

Is he talking about me? “So now you like smart skinny women?” I ask.

“I am currently reassessing what makes a woman perfect,” he says.

I’m determined not to let him off the hook. “So in Drake Manning’s world, a woman doesn’t necessarily have to be skinny to be fuckable?”

Manning knows I have him pinned. He squirms, reaching for the right thing to say.

“Would you call yourself skinny?” he asks.

“Hardly.”

“Well I’m dying to fuck you.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat. “The question wasn’t about you and me, Drake. It was about you and other women.”

“There are no other women at the moment,” he says. “And you’re dying to fuck me, too, aren’t you?”

I laugh at the absurdity of there being “no other women.” It’s ludicrous on so many levels, and such an obvious player’s line.

“Answer the question, Allie,” he says. “Honestly, as per our agreement.”

“What question?” I honestly don’t remember hearing one.

Before I can react, his arms are around my waist and he’s pulling me into him. His lips touch mine and I find myself in the middle of another of those amazing kisses. This time I slide my hands behind his neck and give in fully. Goddamn, this man smells so sexy, so masculine. My pulse races and our tongues seem to match each other perfectly. I actually feel a twinge of sadness when he finally pulls away to look into my eyes.

“Aren’t you dying to fuck me, too?” His arms are still wrapped around me, and my hands slide down to rest on his rock-hard biceps.

We have a brief stare-down. Dammit, why is this man so ridiculously attractive?

“I wouldn’t say I’m
dying
to,” I say. “But, yes, I have entertained the thought.”
Entertained the thought?
I can’t seem to get it out of my head! My breasts are pressing against his chest again, a feeling I could definitely get used to.

“Let’s go get in my bed,” he says.

“No,” I say, my stomach suddenly tight. “Not until I write this piece. I can’t have that between us.”

“I leave for Rome tomorrow.”

“Are you afraid if you don’t get me in your bed now, I’ll change my mind?” I ask. Actually, I very well might. Give me a few days away from Drake Manning to catch my breath and let my body stop tingling, and I could very well decide sleeping with him is a very bad idea.

“Maybe,” he says. “Show me your tits.”

What the hell?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, let me see them.”

For the first time, I think I can actually feel his smile between my legs. “And why would I do that?”

“Because my friends saw them and told me how amazing they are, and I’m jealous that I didn’t get to see them.” When he sees my nonplussed reaction, he says, “And because I want to have a mental image of you to take with me to Rome, something insanely hot I can think about when I’m jerking off until you finish the interview and fly out to meet me there.”

“Am I supposed to think there won’t be a line of skinny, dumb Italian women waiting to bed you?”

He knows I’m right. “Allie, you’re killing me. Don’t you—“

“Shut up and kiss me again, Drake.”

He does, and it’s as delicious as the first two. Maybe even better.

D
amn
, this chick can kiss. Usually for me, a kiss is merely a quick prelude to a woman dropping to her knees to put my dick in her mouth. This time, though, I’m in no hurry to get there.

“I should go,” she says, pulling back. I sense her will evaporating and am confident I’ll be inside of her soon. I keep my arms around her waist and look down at her. I’m surprised to notice those dark brown eyes hint at a depth behind them I’m not accustomed to.

“Please,” I say. The word sounds strange coming off my tongue. I don’t remember the last time I needed to use it with a woman.

“Please what?” she asks.

Unlike most women, she didn’t simply open her shirt and show me her tits the first time I asked. It’s refreshing that she’s holding back. I take her reluctance as a personal challenge and give her the smile, tinged with horny desperation. Though to be honest, it’s not an act this time.

“Let me see them.” If I can get her to do this, I’ll know I have her.

She looks at me and I can feel her resistance breaking. Allie looks around the little park and sees only a couple of old people who aren’t even paying attention to us. She takes a breath and I know she’s about to fold.

“Not here,” she says.

She walks toward her car and I follow, my suddenly plump cock visible under my sweats. It goes unnoticed as she reaches the little Fiat and opens the door, then sits sideways in the driver’s seat, her legs peeking out from under her skirt. I move in front of her, blocking the view of anyone who may pass by.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says. “I must be crazy.”

Looking up at me, Allie seems to be checking for a reprieve, a stay of sentence. She’ll get none from me, though. Once she shows me those tits, she’s as good as mine.

“You better think about these until I see you again,” she says. Then she reaches for the bottom of her shirt and lifts it up. At first, I see only a stomach with a sexy little roll on it, then a black bra. Just when I think she’ll stop there, her fingers find the bra and lift it up as well.

I get maybe five seconds of the most amazing tits I’ve ever seen. The guys weren’t kidding. They’re large and beautifully shaped and positioned – not too high, not too low – with perfect-size rose-colored nipples that rapidly grow taut as I stare. It’s all I can do not to put my hands all over them.

Then she quickly lowers her bra and shirt. “Show’s over,” she says as she adjusts herself. “Happy now?”

Before I can answer, she sees my suddenly erect cock pushing against the front of my sweats a foot or two from her eyes. For a split second, I even think she might reach for it.

“Really, Drake?” she says. “Seriously, are you like that all the time?” She’s trying to be nonchalant about it, but there’s no way this chick isn’t as horny as I am right now. What has just taken place between us was hot, from the conversation in the park to her flashing me and giving me a boner.

“For some reason, I seem to be when I’m with you,” I say as she looks away.

“I have to go,” she says quickly. “Thanks for… well, for being you, I guess.” It sounds like a compliment, only not exactly. She tucks her legs into the car and pulls on the door handle, but I’m standing in the way.

“One more kiss,” I say. “Since I won’t see you for a while.”

She looks up, past my still-hard cock and into my eyes. She seems torn, undecided exactly how she should feel about me. “Yeah, what’s the story there?” she asks. “Will I really see you again? I don’t go around flashing just anyone, you know.”

“As soon as you turn in that article, fly to Rome and meet me. I’ll send my jet back for you.” That would be a difficult sales pitch for any woman to turn down. She nods and tries to shut the door again, but I stand my ground. “One more kiss.”

She relents and I move back so she can stand up, then I quickly close the door behind her and pin her against the car. I press my body against hers as I explore her tongue. Lifting a hand to caress her face, I let it brush against her tit on the way up.

“Come home with me, Allie,” I say, adding a croaky desperation to my voice. I subtly grind my hard-on against her belly. She sighs and I slide my hands under her shirt, lifting it up to her chin. I take a quick look around and see no one in the area, then I lift up her bra, exposing her as I drop my mouth to one tit and gently suck on a perfect nipple. Her fingers curl in my hair for a second and her breathing deepens, then she suddenly pushes me backward and lowers her shirt.

“Goddamit, Drake,” she says. “Quit pushing so fucking hard.”

“I can’t. Do you have any idea how much I want you?” I ask her, staring as deeply into her eyes as I can.

“I’m worth waiting for,” she says, determined to keep me at bay. Then she kisses me, this time taking my tongue into her mouth and sucking on it, as if it were my cock. At least that’s how my brain interprets it.

She pushes me away and climbs into her car, firing up the engine and driving off. I watch as she gets less than half a block away before she slams on the brakes, then does a U-turn and comes back.

“Get in,” she says. “I have to take you back to your car.” I’d forgotten that little detail.

She drops me off at the shopping center, and I have mixed feelings as I watch her ugly little car fade into the distance. I did get to see those tits, but I couldn’t seal the deal and convince her to come to my house and fuck me right now. Normally I’d be pretty pissed off and would immediately forget that chick and move on the next.

In this case, though, I want to see Allie again. Not because of the tits, although they are
literally
perfect. But more importantly, so is she.

Holy shit, maybe she really is worth waiting for.

I
run
a red light as I speed away and am lucky there’s nobody there to slam into my little car.

Did I really just do that? Did I flash America’s Bachelor?

My mind is racing with so many strange thoughts that I’m almost dizzy. I’m also acutely aware that my pussy is quite wet and I have a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jesus, what is it about this man – other than his looks, obviously – that melts me like wax?

And did I imagine it, or did Drake Manning actually open up to me like that? Did he really give me more usable quotes and background information than he’s given any interviewer in… well,
ever
?

When I reach home, I make some tea and sit on my patio to try to calm my nerves. As I think about what has taken place so far between me and Drake, one thing is glaringly obvious:

This man really wants to fuck me. His actions, and his erections, leave no doubt. I tell myself not to get too worked up by the idea. It’s possible, even likely, that he’s like this with any woman who is moderately attractive. Maybe he’s taken this same aggressive approach with hundreds of others.

Then I remember his invitation to fly me to Rome in his private jet when I’m done writing the piece. Surely he could find female companionship in Italy, so why would he go to that length?

Manning has told me repeatedly that I’m not like the women he sleeps with. My body, my brain and my personality are all different from his norm. So why does he keep pushing me to have sex with him?

Why
me
, of all the women he could have?

And more importantly, why do I want this so badly? Why am I suddenly aching to make it happen? On some level, I still think Drake Manning is an arrogant prick. He’s exactly the kind of guy to whom I won’t normally give the time of day. But talking to him these last few days has given me a different picture. He’s shown me a side most people don’t see.

Do I want him just because he’s so handsome and so famous? Is it because of that trademark body of his, that I want to know what it would feel like to have him on top of me with my arms and legs wrapped around those muscles?

Or is it something more?

No, that can’t be right. I push the thought out of my head and go back to imagining Drake Manning fucking me.