So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2) (12 page)

The buzz in my ear yanks me from his embrace. My heart aches
as Buck fades when I’m pulled back to the waking world. I let out a sigh. That
dream never stops haunting me.

I slap at the night table to turn off the alarm, but my hand
doesn’t land on the phone—it comes into contact with a solid, warm body.

My eyes fly open.

Big hands pull me closer to his chest.

Maybe I’m still sleeping.

Wait. No.

Fuck.

Buck grins at me. “Morning, Beautiful.”

My lungs deflate. Shit. I’m so screwed.

He rolls away for a moment, taking his phone from the night
table and swiping his finger across the screen. “Trudi, why the fuck are you calling
me so early on a Saturday?”

Her voice is muffled at his ear, but the tone is clear.
She’s not happy.

A crease forms between his brows. “Ah, shit. I forgot. Damn.
Yeah, I’ll get my ass there, but you have to give me a couple of hours. I have
something that needs doing this morning.”

He reaches for me as I scoot away from him, almost falling
off the edge of the bed before I catch myself. I hold up a finger as I back
toward the hotel bathroom. Luckily, there are complimentary toiletries in the
little basket on the counter.

I put off going back into the room with him by brushing my
teeth—twice. I get into the shower, wash my hair, shave my legs, and soak under
the hot spray.

The toilet flushes. My gut twists.

The sink faucet turns on. I pretend to still be busy in the
shower by washing my body a second time. Maybe he’ll leave and I can get my
shit together before I have to face him.

The shower curtain swishes open. “Hey, want some company?”

I shake my head.

His eyebrow quirks. “Too bad, Lover. I’m coming in.”

“That’s fine. I’m finished anyway.”

He steps in.

I step out.

He leans around the curtain, holding it to his chest. “Suit
yourself. I’ll have you in a shower eventually.”

I wrap in the oversized bath towel and head back into the
room. I dig into my purse and pull out my hairbrush.

Buck’s deep timbre comes through the bathroom door. Is he
fucking singing?

A few minutes later, he’s out, butt-ass naked, his arms
circling my waist as he kisses the back of my neck. “You smell delicious. Can I
get a taste?”

I frown at his reflection in the mirror. “Fuck. I
forgot—you’re a
morning
person.”

“You don’t have to say
morning
like it’s a dirty
word.” He nibbles at my pulse point. “Can I get that taste? Just a little to
tide me over until later?”

“Taste? You want some coffee? Or they may have a
complimentary breakfast buffet downstairs.” I smile. I shouldn’t. I don’t
really want to. But I can’t stop it.

He drops to his knees, pulling off my towel as he goes.
“Nope. I want pussy for breakfast. Prime, grade A, brown-sugared
pussy
.”

“I thought you had something that needed to be done this
morning.”

He grins. “
You
. You’re what needs doing.”

He pushes my hips until I’m backed to the edge of the low
dresser, the wood cold beneath my ass. Grabbing my knees, he spreads them. Warm
liquid flows to my slit as he leans close, breathing on my clit.

I catch my breath as his wet tongue smoothes over my pussy lips,
sliding into my entrance.

Screw it.

He’s fucking paying me. If I’m going to prostitute myself
and risk ending up just like my mom, I may as well enjoy it, right?

I pull up my feet so my heels sit at the edge of the
dresser, my legs falling open, making plenty of room for him to enjoy his early
morning snack. Leaning against the mirror, I close my eyes and give myself over
to Buck and his tongue.

The man could go into a fucking record book. I’ve never had
my pussy so thoroughly devoured as he’s done. And I’ve had no shortage of guys
who’ve tried to get me off this way. None of them have ever been up to the
task. Only Buck.

Only. Ever. Buck.

* * *

I slide my shades on as we walk out the sliding doors at the
hotel entrance. Thug One and Thug Two wait with Buck’s SUV and his motorcycle
under the portico. Neither of them will look at me.

Fine. I don’t want them looking at me anyway. The amount of
noise I made last night—and this morning—is appalling.

We slide into the SUV.

Buck pushes his arm behind me, yanking me to the middle of
the backseat, buckling me in right next to him. “You sit by me.”

I frown and cross my arms.

“Thurman, we need to meet the crew at the Rec Center down
town.”

“Got it, Boss.” The window between the front and back rolls
up, blocking Thurman from our view, or maybe vice versa.

“
Thurman
?” I ask.

“Well, I don’t call them Thug One and Thug Two all the time.
I do know their names. Thurman and Roy.”

His hand slides up my leg, his pinky snuggling next to the
seam that runs over my pussy.

“I need to go home. Can you just have him drop you, and then
Thurman or Roy can drive me to the house?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” I cast him a wilting glance—at least, it’s
supposed to wilt him. It does nothing.

He just grins at me. “You’re with me. As much as possible.”

“With you?”

“Yes, as in
with
me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, my fingers drumming on my
upper arm as I look out the window past Buck.

Fine.
With
him.

What’s the worst that can happen?

The crew and that little twat waffle Trudi stare as Buck
herds me to the back bedroom of his RV.

He closes us in.

I cross my arms. “I don’t like it. You can’t ask me to do
this.”

He runs his hands down my shoulders. “It’s not that big of a
deal, Lou. You just sign the papers, whatever footage they get of you they can
use. It’s not saying you have to be on every single episode.”

I focus on the ceiling, my chest tightening with every
breath. “You don’t understand. We aren’t in fucking California. This is home.
Here. You know, the place that was
so
unkind to me as a child. The last
thing I want is to be on national television, surrounded by people who’ve
always had the lowest opinion of me and where I come from.”

“But
you
aren’t
where
you come from, Lou.
You’re so much
more
than that. And you’ve been around the fucking world,
served your country, and that counts for something.”

“Not here it won’t.”

He should know this without me telling him.

“Well then, fuck
here
. Look, this would be really
good for my career. I’m up for this huge part in a major motion picture, and I
need this break. Can’t you just help a guy out? Please.”

“Why do I have to be on the show for you to get the big
part?”

“Trudi knows we’re together now. She’s already sold the
powers-that-be on the idea of you. You as my
girlfriend
. Everyday girl
gets the Hollywood star. They think this will be a great angle. It will help me
and—”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “I still don’t see how my
being your girlfriend on this reality show helps you land a part in a movie.”

“Hollywood is a closely connected place. Everyone knows
somebody, and if this is what the producer, Barry, wants, then this is what
Barry gets. Or he might just mention how uncooperative things were with me and
my people, and word gets out, and it snowballs into a fucking nightmare for
me.”

His turquoise eyes are worse than any puppy’s.

“God. I hate your face right now.” My grip on what I want to
do and what I don’t want to do is slipping. First, I’m his fucking whore, and
now I’m this damned show’s bitch.

The wrinkle between his brows deepens. “What? Why?”

“Because, you give me that look, the one that always got you
whatever you wanted, especially from me—and I know I’m going to give it to you,
because I can’t seem to tell you fucking no. Even when I should. Because I
should
.”

That grin—the one I used to love, but hate right this minute—pushes
his dimples deeper.

* * *

I’ve been wrangled by one perky, little producer, Trudi
Parks, and one handsome devil of a Hollywood bad boy into signing the release forms
for them to use footage of me on their ridiculous reality television show,
Celebrity Fuck-Cuming or some shit.

I scrawl my name across the dotted line, my gut wrenching
into a ball of stress and frustration.

Trudi snatches them from my hand before the ink is even dry.
I’d like to ram these papers down her scrawny throat, but Buck catches my eye
and shakes his head. His brow wrinkles just enough to tell me he knows what I’m
thinking.

He’s always known what I was thinking. Fucker.

* * *

Trudi insists on me allowing her to tame my hair and paint
me up with freaking make-up. She even went out and bought some
more
appropriate
attire, so I look like someone Buck would date. Because I’m not
at all like the girls he’s usually seen with.

I’m the exact opposite, in fact. I’ve never seen him in the
papers, or even his movies, for that matter, with a woman who isn’t blonde and
blue-eyed—maybe brown eyes, but never dark hair or skin. They’re always
beautiful, delicate, pale flowers. I’m none of those things.

So, not only am I now whoring myself out to Buck, but I’m
also being made over into something I’m not. I can hardly breathe; it chafes so
hard against everything I am.

How the fuck did I end up here?

Aunt Delores. She needs me. I need money to help her. Buck
has fucking money. He wants this, and here I am.

I follow him down the steps of the RV bus. Thugs One and Two
flank him, holding the throngs of people at bay. A surge of bodies pushes
closer.

Buck wraps his arm around me, pulling me against his side,
whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

I shrug him off. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Squaring my shoulders, I stride forward away from him. The
crowd isn’t interested in me. They just want a piece of Buck.

A camera is shoved into my face as the flash goes off.

I throw my hand up, too late to protect my eyes. “What the
fuck?”

His strong hand lands on my shoulder, dragging me back into
his arms. “Damn it, Lou. Stay close.”

Once we get into the Rec Center, where Buck and I spent so
many afternoons as pre-teens, the crush of bodies dissipates as the local cops
close the doors behind us. Two of the three cameramen wait for us in the
gymnasium, the third still outside, filming the throng of locals who showed up
to see Buck.

Buck turns to Trudi. “How the fuck did they know I was coming
today?”

Her eyes widen and she turns up her palms. “Beats me.”

He shakes his head. “Well, let’s try to keep a bit more of a
watch on who gets our schedule, eh?”

He turns to me. “And you.”

“Me, what?”