Read DEEP: The Complete Man Candy Trilogy Online
Authors: Joanna Blake
Six (and a half) Months Later - Creation
To my Readers,
I've taken a slight departure from my regular style with this book. If you've read all of my stories, you know that the characters dictate what happens. I often have a plan for my H & h that gets completely thrown out the window. With
HEAT,
I expected to write another fun, sweet, somewhat dirty love story.
And then I met Trent. He had other ideas in mind. Because of who he is, and what his experiences have been... well, let's just say this book is a bit naughtier than my others. He needs love more than most, and he needs it in a variety of ways. Don't worry, I promise that he's a good guy deep down and this book does have a very happy ending.
I have included TWO bonus books for your enjoyment- please enjoy your BONUS BOOKS
BRO'
and A
Bad Boy For Summer
Xoxox,
Joanna
*HEAT was previously titled BANG, but this title was censored. I think HEAT is even better though!
Chapter One
Trent
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. Around me people were scurrying, adjusting lights and cameras. In front of me on all fours was Anastasia Berlin. Like me, she was frozen in place, with my cock balls deep inside her.
I wasn't concerned about losing my erection. I wasn't concerned about the camera they were moving behind me, practically touching my ass. I wasn't worried about cuming too fast.
I was just bored.
"Clear!"
I opened my eyes as the set quieted again. My hands flexed on Anastasia's hips.
"Action."
I flexed my hips, driving all the way into her. She was overly slippery with a silicone based lubricant. It was necessary for these long shoots. Otherwise, she would dry out.
Besides, when you shot with Rez, you needed extra lube.
I took small thrusts, careful not to smash backwards into the camera. They were there for the money shot. The grand finale.
It was time to unleash the snake.
I focused hard, letting images of every dirty, nasty thing I'd ever seen or done flash through my mind. For me, staying hard wasn't the challenge. It was getting excited enough to shoot my load.
And the audience wanted a big ass load.
I started to get that feeling at the base of my spine, traveling up to my nuts then forward, up and out of my shaft.
Fucking A.
I yanked my cock out and sprayed it all over her back.
Anastasia flipped over like the pro she was and I covered her. I angled it up for the best effect, spraying my cum all over her enormous, obviously fake tits.
I let my head fall back as the pent up release slowed.
In an instant the lights would turn off.
In an instant, and just for a heartbeat, I would feel dirty.
Filthy.
Disgusting.
And then they would hand me a giant check and the feeling would pass.
A stiff drink and a line of coke wouldn't hurt either. And I knew they'd have one of each of those waiting for me too.
"That's a wrap!"
I did my best to ignore the people bustling around me. One handed me a baby wipe, which I used to clean my dick off. Anastasia was cleaning off her tits while someone wiped her back.
Just like that, it was over.
I debated about going for a run, taking the night off. It would be nice to stay home with my girls. But then George waved me over and handed me a rolled up hundred dollar bill.
I leaned down and inhaled a line of the white powder.
I tilted my head back as the rush flooded my body.
Cuming had nothing on coke.
I took a pull of the bottle of bourbon he handed me.
"There's a party in Malibu. You coming?"
I shrugged.
"Why not?"
Lexi
I tugged the thick white shoe off with one foot, rubbing it along my calf. My feet were sore, my legs were sore and my back was sore. My work shoes were old and did little to support my arches during my 12-36 hour shifts. I needed new ones.
I needed a lot of things.
I was making my rounds when Kelly stuck her head into Mr. Pollard's room.
"It's you sister."
"Tell her I will call her back in..."
I did a quick calculation of how long it would take to finish checking in on every patient on the floor.
"Forty five minutes."
"She's freaking out, Lex."
I closed my eyes. I finished marking down Mr. Pollard's vitals and left the room. It was bad form to stop in the middle of rounds. But when Char called, it was inevitably an emergency.
I flexed my hips, moving at a rapid clip down the hallway towards the nurses' station. I had long ago mastered the art of running but making it look like I was walking. It was important not to show panic in a hospital. Never mind at home.
At home, it was even worse. My sister was extremely sensitive. So I had learned to project an aura of calm at all times.
Even if I was panicking inside.
Kelly held out the phone to me. I could hear sobbing before I even lifted the phone to my ear. It wasn't the sound of a normal twenty-year-old woman crying.
It was the sound of a terrified little girl.
"Char, what's wrong?"
It took a few seconds for her to compose herself enough so I could understand her. When I did, my blood ran cold.
"She left me."
I stood up straight, outrage flooding my system.
"What do you mean, she left you?"
My voice was harsh, clipped, which only made her start to wail even louder. The other nurses at the station had sympathy written all over their faces. They knew how hard it was to be my sister's guardian. My sweet, loving, chemically unbalanced and developmentally disabled sister.
I forced myself to modulate my voice. She did not respond well to criticism. And even if she'd done something off the wall, it wasn't her fault.
I was pretty sure she'd done something to freak Suzie out.
"What happened, Char?"
What I really meant was 'what did you do, Char?' But I couldn't say that. Not unless I wanted her to have a complete meltdown.
This might seem like an epic crisis to a normal person, but trust me, it barely registered. The fact that her new caregiver Suzie had left my sister alone was another matter altogether.
A very, very serious matter.
Basically, heads were going to roll.
"I hate her. She made me take my meds with orange juice. You know I only take them with my Arnold Palmer. She said that was stupid."
I closed my eyes again, praying for patience.
One of my sisters most charmingly frustrating tendencies was to only drink beverages that were named after people. Arnold Palmers. Shirley Temples. Virgin Mary's.
I was hoping she would outgrow this particular tic, but so far, she had not.
"I'll call Mrs. Keeley. Hold tight."
"Don't hang up!"
"I won't love. Now, think carefully. Did you take your pills Char?"
I called Mrs. Keeley, holding a phone to each ear. She was our neighbor and the kindest person I knew. She was also the only other person who Charlotte would listen to. Unfortunately, she was 80 years old and couldn't keep up with Char anymore.
Thus the endless stream of inept caregivers that had been walking through our doors the past few months. I sighed as I finally set the phone down, staying on the line with Char until Mrs. Keeley was in the house. Kelly handed me a cup of coffee. I took it, sipping it gratefully.
At least our hospital had decent coffee.
"She needs to be in assisted living."
I didn't argue with her. I knew it was true. But that was expensive. And I couldn't bear to relegate my sweet, beautiful sister to a state home. God knows what would happen to her there.
"Lexi, you can't keep this up."
I shook my head. I had to. I didn't have a choice. Our parents had died when I was barely into my first year of nursing school. No other family member had been willing to take on my sister.
I couldn't really blame them. Who would take on a teenager, let alone a chemically unbalanced, disabled girl who was nothing but a distant relative?
So even though I was barely six years older than her, I took on the role of parent.
I'd been looking after her since she was born, so it wasn't that big of an adjustment.
What had been a big surprise was the fact that our parents had been up to their eyeballs in debt when they died. All the special doctors, the tutors, the medication. It had all added up over the years to a huge deficit. The only thing left was the house, which wasn't worth much. I would have loved to sell it and move away. But interrupting Char's stability was dangerous.
So we'd stayed and managed to keep the bank from taking the house. They'd taken everything else.
Thank God for student loans and scholarships. Without them I would have never been able to keep the lights on, or finish getting through nursing school.
As it was I would be paying for school for the rest of my natural born life.
Never mind someone to take proper care of my sister.
Something would change for the better eventually.
It had to.
Chapter Two
Trent
The first thing I saw was the water sparkling on the surface of the cool blue pool. I blinked. It was a very nice pool.
It just wasn't my pool.
Surprise, surprise, I'd passed out again.
I groaned and rolled over, realizing I was tangled up with another body. I glanced over my shoulder.
Make that three different bodies.
I looked down. I was wearing pants. So whatever I'd done last night, or if I'd fucked anyone, it must have been earlier in the evening. That was good. I hated to fuck sloppy.
It was against my policy. I was a professional. I didn't mix business with pleasure.
Getting massively fucked up being pleasure. Sex was just a job. A fun, pleasurable job, but a job all the same. I groaned, glancing at my watch.
"Fuck."
I sat up abruptly. It was 8 am. Sally would not be happy with me for staying out all night. Neither would Hendrix or Jezebel.
Damn it. I had to get home to my dogs.
I extricated myself from the pile of naked bodies on the enormous bed. There were people passed out everywhere. And there, by the pool... a small group of people doing lines.
Fuck man, George and his cronies were still partying.
He waved as I stepped outside.
"Seen my jacket?"
He jerked his head towards the cabana. I smiled. I could always trust George to keep an eye out for me. He was a great producer, the best in the biz. But more than that, he made my life easy.
Maybe too easy.
He was always there with the party invites, the club appearances, the girls, the drugs.
I grabbed my jacket from the low-slung couch. It was a nice place. Lots of rich people liked to party with porn stars. I shook my head.
I didn't blame them.
I liked to party with me too.
George was cutting lines on a glass table by the pool. A girl in a bikini next to him leaned over with a rolled up hundred dollar bill. I winced at the sound of her snorting. She passed it to George who took a toot.
He held it out to me.
"One for the road?"
I shook my head.
"Gotta go. The dogs."
"Tell Jan to check on them."
"She moved out. New girlfriend."
George shook his head sadly. He'd been after January to work on some of our films. To tell the truth, I was relieved that she'd said no. I felt protective of her. She'd had a rough time as a dancer in Miami. My friends Joss and Chan had asked me to help her find her feet in LA and I had.
Getting her into porn wasn't exactly the nurturing safe haven they'd had in mind.
"Olivia?"
"It's her day off."
"Too bad man, we have another package arriving after lunch. Lots of party favors."
"Thanks man. Maybe later."
I fished my keys out of my pocket and smiled at the poor girl with the glazed over eyes. She was young and very pretty. But she wouldn't stay that way for long if she kept hanging around with this crowd.
I'd seen it a hundred times.
She was George's flavor of the month. But he would use her up and spit her out. He wouldn't be mean about it. But there were always so many girls hanging around. It didn't take much to talk them out of their clothes.
Or in front of the camera.
It was different for George. He needed the flash and the money and the drugs to get laid. The promises of fame.
And hell, sometimes he came through on them.
He had for me.
Of course, I hadn't had to fuck him to do it.
He'd met me when I was finally emancipated from the latest round of shitty foster parents. I was 18 and hanging out in the clubs, fucking anything that moved.
Anything hot and female that is.
He'd taken one look at me and invited me to his table. He'd plied me with booze and drugs. All he'd asked to do in return was watch me fuck. And I was so high by that time, it seemed like a damn good idea.
He'd taken one look at the monster and bam, a star was born.
Now here I was, almost seven years later. Still fucking for money and drugs. It was boring.
I found my bike, undisturbed by the side of the house where I'd left it. It was a good thing too because nobody touched my ride. It was a vintage Harley Knucklehead. It was the first big ticket item I'd bought for myself when I started to get famous.
I loved that damn bike, almost as much as I loved my dogs.
The freeway was already packed so I took side roads, weaving across LA towards the hills where I lived. It was quiet and cool up there. The dogs loved it. But if you had to commute to a regular nine to five job, it was a hike and a half.