Part 10 (1/2)

G.o.d, he was huge. I knew it from our airplane encounter, but now I could fully appreciate it, standing tall and proud and heavy in the soft light streaming in through the window. I spread myself with my fingers and began to give my c.l.i.t the quick, tight circles I knew would bring me to climax in a few minutes.

Kent's long-fingered hand began to stroke his c.o.c.k.

Make that less than a minute.

Our breathing began to match up, pulsing in time with our frantic ministrations. My core tightened as I watched Kent stroke his shaft, and his glittering eyes raked over my naked body. I twisted and turned, my feet finding the mattress and pus.h.i.+ng up into my hand. I bit my lip, tiny moans escaping from my throat as I fondled my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

”Jesus, Rebecca,” Kent said. ”Jesus, Jesus...”

I forced myself to turn and watch him as his hips started thrusting into his fist. Beneath the thin white cotton of his unders.h.i.+rt his perfectly sculpted abs contracted and relaxed as he fell into the rhythm of pleasure. Gleaming beads of prec.u.m escaped his c.o.c.k, making the soft head gleam in the dimness as he swirled his palm over the glans. I wondered if it tasted as good as it looked-dark and sweet and thick.

The sad thought-that this might be the last time we could do something like this together-flashed in and out of my mind like lightning. It was weird. I didn't know Kent. It was all hormones and stress and desperation between us, a way to relieve pressure, but I couldn't help but think that there could have been something more there. At the very least, the s.e.x would have been molten hot. I wanted it badly. So, so badly.

But I couldn't. He was right. We had jobs to do, we were now boss and employee, and now he sat across the room, a thousand miles away, stroking his c.o.c.k and watching me play with my c.u.n.t, feeling each other only in our imaginations.

How big would he be in me? Would he touch all the secret parts, the sweet, soft places that ached for him? Would he be quick, or take his time? Would his hips twist, would he grind against my c.l.i.t, would the bulbous head of his c.o.c.k pull and plunge in completely, or would he move in tight, quick thrusts? Would he, could he, what would his body feel like, all whip-cord muscles and rough, calloused fingers, teeth and tongue and hard and thick and oh- My o.r.g.a.s.m came suddenly, swiftly, wrapping around me like a vise, and I arched hard into my hand. My palm flattened against my mound of its own accord, rubbing and sliding, almost frictionless with the slick juices of my core, and the tiny, strangled sound that escaped my throat reached across the room and jerked Kent over the edge with me.

”s.h.i.+t-!” It came out as a hiss, a hard, sharp thing, cutting through me like a knife, and I turned my head just in time to see white spurts of c.u.m leap out of his c.o.c.k. They flew through the air, up across his granite-hard abdomen, spattering over the wifebeater he wore, and his head was thrown back with release. The column of his throat bulged with his Adam's apple, and the low moan he made reverberated through the entire room, quivering and dancing over my skin.

The pleasure receded, leaving me exhausted and limp upon the bed. In his armchair, Kent sagged, clearly just as spent, but as our breathing slowed down our mutual knowledge that this was now over crept in, crowding out the aftershocks. I didn't know what to say. Thanks for the laughs?

Finally he stood up, readjusting his clothing until he was mostly-presentable. I sat up and reached down the bed, pulling the covers around me. I wanted him to kiss me for some reason, but he didn't. He just stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable in the dark.

”Good night, Rebecca,” he said at last. ”I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, it's going to be a fight.”

I swallowed and nodded. ”Yeah. Okay. Good night.”

He left.

I didn't sleep at all.

Chapter Eight.

I'm going to kill him.

The thought floated across my brain, sweet and serene, and it wasn't the first time it had happened today. One month after getting hired to babysit Carter Hudson and I was starting to have homicidal ideations. I tried to push the thought away as soon as it came to me, but it was kind of hard when Carter was sitting right next to me with a s.h.i.+t-eating grin on his face and taking nips from a bottle beneath the table.

We were sitting at one of LAs nicer sus.h.i.+ restaurants, and while I appreciated a good volcano roll, Carter was trying my patience.

He turned again and took a nip of the bottle and I finally figured out what kind of bottle it was.

”Is that... are you drinking cough syrup?” I hissed behind my menu.

Slipping the bottle back under the table, he turned and grinned at me. ”Sizzurp, Mrs. Girlfriend. I am drinking sizzurp. You need to get the lingo right.”

”You need to stop drinking cough syrup!” I was trying to keep my voice down but it was hard when all I could think about was grabbing my chopsticks and stabbing them into his eyes.

This was par for the course with Carter. Get him out, doing something nice and normal and not full of drugs or drinking, and his first reaction was to undermine it. It had been going on for a month and I was starting to see why my own mother had gone considerably grayer during our teenage years.

”Sizzurp,” he corrected. ”I need to stop drinking sizzurp.” Carter gave me a lazy smile.

I'm going to kill him, I thought again.

Sizzurp. That was cough syrup with codeine, right? Wasn't there some rapper who'd been sipping the sizzurp recently and ended up in the hospital with seizures? That was no bueno. No bueno at all.

I snapped my menu down and pretended to peruse it, but I watched Carter from the corner of my eye. Codeine. That meant he'd be getting a little lazy. Any second now...

The moment he reached for his gla.s.s of water, my hand darted under the table and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bottle out of his hand.

”Hey!”

”Shut up,” I said. ”The last thing I need is for you to end up in the hospital.”

He slumped in his chair and glowered at me. I knew someone was probably taking pictures of us right now and they'd go running to the tabloids telling the world that we were having lover's problems. Well good. I hoped they did. Maybe the death threats would stop.

Not real death threats, but you know. The crazy fangirl death threats that certain people seemed to think were appropriate to post on the internet. I'd had to shut my Facebook down the second day the news was out that Carter Hudson had a girlfriend, and my email was still getting spammed by girls who hated me for getting between them and their precious Carter. Ha! If only they knew. Being Carter's girlfriend was the worst job I had ever had. I pride myself on sticking to jobs as long as I can, but right now I was thinking of quitting. Killing Carter counted as quitting, right?

I stuffed the cough syrup into my purse and made a mental note to figure out where he had gotten it. I mean... come on. I was with him practically twenty four-seven, and still he managed to somehow undermine my every attempt to help him. Shape up! I wanted to scream, but even though he irritated me to no end, I knew it wouldn't do any good. I couldn't yell at him for the same reason I couldn't yell at a toddler. He honestly just didn't seem to know any better.

The waitress came by and took our orders, and within a minute there was food sitting in front of us. That, at least, was a perk of babysitting a celebrity. No one ignored me now.

Then Carter reached out and plucked a piece of sus.h.i.+ from the plate with his fingers and popped it into his mouth.

Oh. My. G.o.d.

”Were you born in a barn?” I hissed.

”You mean like Jesus?” he asked.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

”You're not Jesus. And you'd better not say you're bigger than Jesus.”

Carter laughed. ”Well duh,” he said. ”I don't want to get shot.”

”Just eat,” I told him.

But he had that sly little grin on his face again, and I knew he was going to do something that I was going to regret.

Picking up another piece of sus.h.i.+ in his fingers, he held it out to me. ”Now sweetie,” he said, ”would you like a piece?”

I clenched my teeth but managed a smile. I should be the one getting acting roles. ”Of course, darling.”

Dutifully I opened my mouth and he placed the roll on my tongue. I pulled back and closed my lips around it.

”Aww,” he said. ”Not even a little finger-suck for the paparazzi?” Sucking fingers was his new thing he kept trying to get me to do. He said it was s.e.xy and that a real girlfriend would be all over his guitarist fingers.