Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (88 page)

BOOK: Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle
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Shit, so this was the reality of dating a celebrity. Would we have to deal with this every time we went on a date? That was assuming that he even wanted a second date. Dane seemed to busy signing autographs to even bother with me anymore.

I wandered off to the nearest bench I could find and sat down. I finished off the last of my cotton candy as I watched Dane try to deal with mob as best he could. He was actually very efficient, making sure that everyone got their autograph and their selfie in the quickest time possible. Once the crowd dispersed again he came right over to me.

“I'm sorry,” he sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders, “Maybe spontaneous isn't a good idea when you're famous.”

“Maybe not,” I said, glancing down at his arm, “You know someone's gonna snap a picture of this, right?”

Dane shrugged.

 

“Whatever happens happens. So, how about we get that dinner?” I didn't argue.

 

 

Dane

 

Luigi's was a great little Italian restaurant just a few miles north of my place. It was cozy and popular with locals, but not that well known. They always took good care of me in there. If I called ahead and told them that I wanted to book a table they would make sure that I wouldn't be bothered. The food was also delicious, which helped quite a bit. I just hoped Savannah would like it.

 

As soon as we entered the restaurant the hostess recognized me.

 

“Mr Reynolds,” she said, “We have a table set aside where you'll be left in peace. Please follow
me.”

She led the two of us past a number of diners who all seemed to know who I was. They were whispering and looking at me as if I had two heads. Jesus Christ, this shit got tiring after a while. Sometimes I missed being a nobody. Then again, nobodies usually couldn't afford nice dates like this one.

The hostess led us up a flight of stairs and onto the roof. A single table had been set for us, overlooking the city skyline. It was warm and there was no breeze so it was perfect. “Thank you,” I said, as we were seated, “This is great!”

“It is, isn't it?” said Savannah. I was glad she thought so. She deserved the world. The least I could give her was a great date.

A waiter quickly arrived with a basket of bread and my favorite red wine. He poured it out, handed over the bread and promised he'd be back shortly to take our orders. The two of us were left alone under the night sky. Savannah couldn't keep the smile off of her face.

“You really went all out for this, didn't you?” she said. I shrugged. “I wouldn't say that.”

“Of course you wouldn't. You don't want to admit that you're a hopeless romantic!” she teased. A hopeless romantic? Me? More like plain hopeless when it came to romance. Even so, I took it as a compliment.

“Thanks, I think,” I said. Savannah sniggered.

 

“This is like a totally different side of you,” she said, “You're being all polite and gentlemanly and you've really toned down your obnoxious side.”

“Thanks a bunch,” I said, “It's great to know you haven't lost your bluntness.”

 

“It's great to know you haven't lost your ego,” she smiled sweetly. Damn it, that woman really wanted to keep me in my place. It was endearing, really, to think that a tiny girl like her could tame a bad ass like me. I liked her, but that didn't mean I was going to change for her. Any girl who couldn't handle me wasn't worth perusing.

I had a feeling that Savannah was well equipped to handle me, however.

 

The waiter returned and we placed our orders. Savannah went for the carbonara so I copied her, deciding that it sounded good to me too.

“So,” she asked eventually, “When are we going to talk about what happened the night I left?” Jesus. She certainly hadn't lost her bluntness. I'd been hoping she wouldn't bring that up with me. I just wanted to talk to her, to make her laugh and look at her in that pretty cocktail dress. Why dredge up the past and ruin the mood? I said as much.

“Come on baby, shit was getting all romantic. Do you really want to ruin it by talking about all that?” I said. Savannah nodded with a smile on her face.

“Yup. I'll ruin it for you,” she said. I could see she was getting flustered now, “Why didn't you stand up for me?”

I thought about it for a moment. There was no good answer.

 

“I didn't know it mattered that much to you,” I said. It was me being honest, but that didn't please Savannah. She frowned at me.

“Of course it mattered. What girl wants to know that the guy she cares about doesn't care about her?” she said. So she admitted that she cared about me. It made me feel good to think that. Conflicted, but good.

“I never said I didn't care about you,” I said.

 

“You never did anything to show that you did care about me,” she responded. She was smiling again now, but her eyes were angry. I hadn't expected her to get so worked up about it. This definitely wasn't a situation that was covered in a first date hand book. Not that I'd read one. If I had I might have been better prepared.

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” I said. We were then interrupted by the waiter, who appeared with two steaming how bows of carbonara for us.

“Enjoy,” he said, before disappearing again. We ate in silence for a while, too hungry and frustrated to even speak. Savannah eventually found her voice.

“It hurt.”

“What?”

“You hurt me.”

“Oh.”

She swallowed another bite of her carbonara and put her fork down.

 

“This isn't as easy as I'd hoped it would be,” she said, shaking her head. It didn't feel like she was talking to me. It felt like she was talking to herself. Despite this, I felt the need to respond. “What did you want to happen?” I asked.

“I don't know,” she turned her head and looked out at the LA skyline, “I don't belong here.”

 

“I wouldn't say that,” I said, hoping that she wouldn't sense my internal panic. So maybe I didn't know exactly what it was that I wanted. That didn't meant that she should leave. One thing I knew for sure was that I wanted her to to stick around.

“I don't belong here,” she repeated, “I need to go home.”

 

“No you don't,” I found myself saying. She gave me a gentle smile.

 

“What should I stick around for? I'm not a model. I'm not an actress and I'm not a singer either. My design career is going nowhere,” she said, before quietly adding, “My love life is going nowhere. I should go home and be close to my family. They miss me a lot.”

Fuck. It was time to bring out the big guns now. I hated myself for doing it but I needed to.

 

“You should stick around for me,” I said, “Please. Please stick around for me. I'll bring you home and you can visit your family if that's what you want, but don't leave for good.”

“Why not?” she asked. Damn it, I knew she would make me spell it out for her.

 

“Because I need you here. And I know I'm just a fucking idiot movie star with an ego the size of Jupiter and excellent muscle definition, but that doesn't mean that I can't admit when I need something. I need you, Savannah,” I said, “I really do.”

For once in my life, being honest with a girl didn't turn around and bite me on the ass. Savannah leaned forward and whispered, “I need you too.”

We didn't stay for dessert. We didn't even finish our dinner. I left a huge tip to let the restaurant staff know that the food hadn't been a problem and the two of us slipped back into my car.

I held her hand on the drive home. It felt nice. It felt like it belonged there.

Maybe it did.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

Savannah

 

Dane didn't bring me back to Mark's house. He brought me back to his own house instead. Stepping inside felt familiar and comforting compared to the coldness of Mark's place. I took a deep breath and let myself savor the unique but lovely scent of Dane's home. I'd missed it almost as much as I'd missed him.

The moment we set foot in the door Dane took me in his arms and kissed me passionately. “You're not sleeping in the guest room tonight,” he grinned.

“No fucking way,” I whispered with a giggle. Without warning Dane grabbed me and tossed me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. Fuck, he really was as strong as he looked. I gave his shoulder a little slap in mock protest but he just returned the favor by giving my ass a quick spank. “Put me down right now, mister!” I demanded.

“Not a chance,” he said. To my surprise, he managed to jog all the way upstairs with me still thrown over his shoulder like that. His grip on me didn't even weaken with all of that extra pressure. He carried me effortlessly to his bedroom and laid my down on the bed without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You go to the gym, I get it,” I said. He laughed at me as he tossed his shirt to the ground. Fuck, I had forgotten how buff he was. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and stroking his colorful abdomen, admiring ever one of his tattoos.

“Come here,” I said. I pulled him down so he was laying next to me and I could get a proper look at
his tattoos, “Tell me about them.”

“Are you serious? I have a raging hard on right now,” he said, “And you want me to tell you the story of every tattoo I have? Most of them don't even have stories to them. They're just there 'cos I wanted them.”

Despite what he was saying I could tell that he wasn't annoyed at my curiosity.

 

“Come on. Please. I'm boring, I don't have any. It's interesting to me,” I said. Dane stroked my bare arm.

“I don't know, maybe you should consider getting some. You'd look pretty hot with tattoos. A biker chick body with an angel face. Now that would be hot,” he said. I gave him a fake slap. I loved the way that tattoos looked on other people but they terrified me. My tastes and preferences changed so often that I couldn't fathom loving a design for my whole life.

“Shut up,” I said, running my hand up his chest, “How do you deal with the fear of regret with these? Do you ever worry you'll see one of these dragons or snakes and you'll think 'fuck, I hate that shit'? That's what I would worry about. Last year I wore the color orange almost every day for six months and now I can't stand it. I just worry that something similar would happen with a tattoo.” Dane shrugged.

“I figure if I like the design now that's all that matters. I just try to live for the day and not worry about the future too much,” he said. Well, that much was obvious. I must have frowned then because Dane suddenly sat up and pointed to the green dragon winding its way around his abdomen, “I actually got this one in Japan from a real Japanese artist. This guy is famous for knowing his shit. Find a crooked line in any of those scales, I dare you. You just can't. He's too good. Cost as much as my first car loan to get, but it was worth it.”

“I always wanted to go to Japan,” I said dreamily, “I love the fashion there.”

 

“You should come with me on the next press tour. We always make a stop off in Japan. My movies make a lot of money there for some reason,” he said. Jesus, it was like he was offering me the world on a plate. I was afraid to say that I wanted anything else in case he promised it to me. I just knew
that mens' promises could not be kept. Especially the promises of movie stars.

 

I snuggled in closer to him as if that could stop him from ever hurting me again. Who knew? Maybe it could.

 

 

Dane

 

I woke up early. The sun was shining and the hottest girl in the world was asleep beside me. It would be a good day, I just knew it. I also figured the perfect way to spend it.

I gave Savannah a little nudge and she woke up, the dazzling green of her eyes even more beautiful in the soft morning light. She gave me a little smile.

“You woke me up and I didn't punch you in this face. Nice job,” she mumbled into the pillow, “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Nope, we have a big day ahead of us,” I said. She groaned.

“What now? Do you have another shoot? I might sit this one out.”

I shook my head. She was way off.

“Nope. No shoots,” I said, “I'm going to get a new tattoo.” She squinted at me.

“Do you have any space left?” she asked. I pointed to a small blank patch on my arm between a few koi fish and my samurai.

“Yup, a little bit. Feel like coming along with me?” I asked. I'd never had somebody come to one of my tattoo sessions before. I wasn't a wimp. I was able to take the pain like a man. It was having someone to talk to that I wanted most. My main artist wasn't so much of a talker. I hated laying there, bored for hours on end as he carved on another new design. It was always worth it, but Savannah being there would make the experience all the better.

“OK,” she groaned, “Just give me five more minutes.”

 

I couldn't argue with that. I got up and went straight for a shower, feeling better than I had in what seemed like forever. Savannah and I hadn't even fucked last night and I felt incredible. I never
realized that a woman could make me feel this happy.

 

When I emerged ten minutes later, Savannah was still asleep. Curled up in a ball with the pillow over her head, it seemed like a shame to wake her up. That didn't stop me. I gave her a little shake and she tried to swat me away again.

“Come on baby, don't mess around with me. You won't win,” I said. She grabbed the sheets and pulled them closer to herself stubbornly. Ah, a challenge. That was just what this morning called for. If it was a challenge she wanted it was a challenge that she would get.

I lay down next to her and pulled the sheet over the two of us. She was pretending to be asleep now, hamming it up in an attempt to annoy me. I could tell by the smirk on her face that she was faking. She was as awake as I was.

This became even more obvious when I slid my hand down her naked body. I paused for a second to cup one of those perfect breasts before continuing. Soon my hand was between her thighs and she was moaning softly into the pillow.

“Oh, so you're awake now?” I teased. She nodded. “Does that mean I should stop, gorgeous?” She shook her head rapidly.

“Please don't stop. That feels good.”

 

“What feels good?” I teased, moving my fingers just enough to make her moan again.

 

“The way you're playing with my clit. That feels so good. And when you slip your finger deep inside me,” I took that as a hint and did just that, causing her moans to change into cries of pleasure. That was it. I couldn't resist her any longer.

I pulled the sheet from her naked body and kissed my way down her chest and stomach before making a place for myself between her legs. I started out by kissing her thighs, but when her moans became more urgent I knew it would be mean to tease her for much longer. I spread her pussy open with my hands and without warning, buried my face in it. She cried out once again and her back arched as I began to lick and suck her clit. She tasted fucking incredible, so incredible that I barely remembered to come up for air. As I lapped at her pussy I slipped a finger deep inside her,
intensifying her pleasure. I moved it in and and out of her while keeping up a good pace with my tongue. It wasn't long before her body was shaking and she was begging me not to stop. So I made sure to keep to the same rhythm until she gave one final scream of pleasure and came.

I lay down next to her as she was in the middle of her orgasm, watching her with a smug smile on my face. She really did look beautiful when she came.

When she came to her senses she looked at me with a shy smile on that pretty face. “That was nice,” she mumbled.

“So you admit I'm good at something?” I teased. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Yeah. One thing. You're good at like one thing, Dane. You should probably just quit acting and become a gigolo. You'll make more money,” she said. Then she glanced downwards, “You're hard.” “Yeah,” I said, though it hadn't been a question, “It's kind of hard not to get turned on when I do that. It's all right, we probably don't have time to do anything else if I'm going to get a tattoo appointment today.”

Her smile became wider and before I knew what she was doing she had pushed me onto my back and pulled my cock out. I watched she straddled my pelvis and grasped the thick shaft with her hands. She lowered herself onto me in a painfully slow fashion. By the time it was all the way inside her I was ready to go.

Savannah began to move up and down slowly, causing me to groan in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. It felt so fucking good but I was so horny for her that I needed more. I needed it to be faster and rough too. If she was intent on teasing me like this I would have to put an end to it or I would go insane.

I grabbed her hips in order to control her movement and made her ride my cock the way I wanted her to. Once she realized how incredible it felt she didn't resist me and allowed me to take control. I watched the way her breasts bounced and she played with her clit as my cock moved inside her and I knew this wouldn't last much longer for either of us. She tilted her head back, parted her lips and moaned my name as her second orgasm of the morning took her over. A few thrusts later and I was
cumming with her. It was the most intense climax I'd had so far.

When the two of us pulled apart it took a while for either of us to recover. We just lay there, breathless but grinning at each other.

Maybe that whole monogamy thing wasn't the worst thing in the world. Maybe it worked because people somehow found other people who managed to fulfill their every need. I'd never believed that before but as I lay next to Savannah on that sunny morning I began to doubt myself. I felt happy. I felt good.

I felt like I wanted her to stay.

 

 

 

 

Savannah

 

I had never stepped inside a tattoo parlor in my life before. It wasn't like I was a snob who thought that anyone who chose to color in their natural canvas had somehow damaged themselves. No, I had always loved and admired the look of tattoos on other people. I just felt that with my angel face and curvy body that I wouldn't fit in in that kind of masculine environment. I would be mocked and possibly hit on, neither experiences I tended to enjoy very much.

Dane reassured me as he drove us through the streets of LA to the shop.

 

“Nah, Chad is cool. He won't make fun of you and he never tells the tabloids shit either. I'd trust him with my life,” he gave me a mischievous grin, “I'm sure he'd give you your first tattoo if you wanted it.”

“Oh yeah, right. I'll get it on my face,” I said. Dane tilted his head and looked at me.

 

“Yeah, that could be cute. You could get my name on your forehead,” he said. I laughed it off, telling him not to be ridiculous. He told me that he'd never had a fan tattoo their face for him but he'd met dozes of young kids who'd gotten 'Dane' tattooed on their inner lip. He didn't know what to think about that. It was a private enough place that it would only be seen when they wanted it to be seen. The nature of the skin there also meant that the tattoos would wear away quickly. Even so, it made him uncomfortable to have kids idolizing him like that.

“Yeah, it must suck so much to have people looking up to you, you poor little millionaire actor,” I said sarcastically. Dane shook his head at me.

“You don't understand. It's so much pressure. You do one teen movie when you're twenty three -they never cast actually teens in teen movies. They're not allowed to work as many hours, they usually have acne or braces that need to be covered and the guys haven't filled out yet, so they get grown adults to play them. But anyway, you do one teen movie and you're expected to be a role model,” he said, “I've actually had mothers yelling at me in the street because of the bad influence I had on their sons. Usually they've gotten a tattoo underage because they liked mine or started smoking 'cos they saw me do it in a movie. I don't even smoke in real life!”

“Why don't you tell them you don't want to be a role model? Tell them to find someone else if they don't think you're wholesome enough,” I said. Dane shook his head again.

“It's a nice idea but it wouldn't work. People latch onto these things and expect celebrities to raise their kids for them. It's just something you have to deal with,” he said, “Being a star isn't all movie premieres and dating supermodels, you know.”

“Those are just the perks,” I teased.

 

“You could say that,” he said and gave my knee a squeeze before putting his hand back on the wheel. We drove in silence for another little while before I thought of something to say. “Dane,” I said, “Why did you get Chrissy Jones to call me the other day?”

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