Hollywood Holden: Los Angeles Bad Boys (7 page)

S
he's gorgeous
—which I knew she would be. Lindy picked out a dress after I gave her the specifications, and damn, she did good.

With her lips ruby red, her hair in a bun, she looks like herself—except those bare shoulders, the heavy-lidded eyes, those fuck-me-please heels, and that skin-tight satin gown. In those, she looks like my fucking date.

The drive is full of me adjusting my twitching cock, her smiling demurely out the window every time I do. We talk about our weeks—safe topics, not the past or the future.

"My agent wants me to choose between two scripts, but it's fucking impossible. So instead of choosing, I went out with my boys, Cash and Jude. We went golfing."

"You golf?" She eyes me with disbelief.

"Not well," I laugh. "But we know we aren't hot shit, and we totally piss off the dudes there who take it hella seriously."

"You're such a dork," she says, shaking her head.

"Better than being a douche, right?"

Her eyebrows furrow. "I guess."

"And you, tell me about your week," I ask.

"Well, I'm back at Tolling High. Obviously. Student teaching in the drama department. Which is sort of surreal, to be honest. It's better now, though, in the new theater."

"Why's that?"

"Come on, I'm sure you can guess." She shrugs. "The old theater is full of memories. Good and bad. Just, I have a lot of history there. It's basically where I grew up." Her words turn softer as she finishes explaining, and I remember what it was like behind those thick, black curtains between set changes.

What it was like to sneak up to the catwalk and chase one another before a show. What it was like to unlock the costume room and play hide and seek with the cast on closing night.

Bexley and I always chose the same place. Behind the row of dusty suits and ties, where a green velvet couch was piled with discarded clothes, we would sit with the lights off, far enough from everyone that no one would ever look for us way back there.

We would dissect the performance in hushed tones, not wanting to be found, and also not really in a hurry to leave the theater and go to a lame cast party in some stage crew guy’s basement. I never went to those anyway. I'd leave and find a real party somewhere in town, beg Bexley to join me.

She rarely would.

Tonight though, she's here, with me. And I'm choosing to let that be enough.

"So you're going to be a drama teacher. I'd never have guessed that."

"No? I always love the craft more than the spotlight."

I grin, giving her a sidelong glance. "That's what you said, at least ... but I know there was a part of you that liked the standing ovation, the final bow. The bouquets of roses after opening night."

"Maybe a little," she says.

I know not to press Bexley on much. Every time I have, it ends in a fight. Instead, I take her hand, lace my fingers through hers. "I bet you're a great teacher," I tell her. "Those bastards in your class, though, I bet they have no idea how lucky they are to have you."

"Right, because Bexley Maddon has so much experience to impart."

I take a deeper look at her. "Did you perform in college, in a theater group?"

"Not really." She swallows, and I can tell I'm touching on something uncomfortable. "I mean, mostly I just did the minimum requirements for the degree. Took the acting courses, but didn't audition for anything outside of class."

My jaw drops, as cheesy as that sounds. "What the hell, girl? Just like that, you stopped?"

She looks out the window, pressing her lips together, and since we’re exiting into Hollywood, toward the theater where the premier is held, I don't want to press any harder. I've gone too far as it is.

"Listen, Bex," I tell her. "I meant what I said. Those students are lucky to have you. Fuck, I'm a little jealous is all." I roll my thumb over hers. "Tonight, let's just have some fun, okay?"

She nods, meeting my eyes. "That's what I want, Holden. I just want to have fun with you. Fun like last weekend."

"Good," I tell her, leaning my forehead toward hers, our noses touching. "Except this time I won't fuck you in my childhood bed."

"Where will you fuck me this time?" she asks, whispering as the limo comes to a stop at the red-carpeted entrance. Paparazzi are everywhere, reporters here for the inside scoop.

"This time I’ll fuck you in my king-sized bed. This time, I’ll fuck you until the sun comes up."

T
he premier is amazing
. Overwhelming, but amazing. I smile, look at the ground so I don't fall in these heels, and hold onto Holden's hand for dear life.

The entire time, this forbidden surge of sexual energy pulses between Holden and me. I know what’s in store later tonight—what he’s promised me—and it’s impossible not to get a little turned on by the prospect.

"Did you like the movie?" he asks as we exit, headed to an after-party.

"It was cute. I mean, it was what I'd expect from a movie where the punch line is delivered by the couple's dog." The movie was actually dumb as hell, but I'm not going to say that to Holden; he mentioned being friends with the woman who starred in it.

"Wow, hard sell there, Bex." We climb back into his limo, headed toward Santa Monica. "I didn't realize you'd become such a film critic."

"I'm not a critic. It was just a little vanilla is all. Generic?"

He laughs, nodding. "I can't judge this romantic comedy. Johnny Jumper isn't exactly cinematographic brilliance."

My eyes widen in mock-surprise. "Wait, this was a comedy?"

"Remind me to never take you to the premier of one of my movies." Holden grimaces. "Don't think my ego could take it."

"I've seen your movies," I tell him. Of course I have. Every single one. Multiple times. And in every one, he looks sexy as all get-out.

"And?"

The limo is flying down the freeway and, while a part of me is curious about a Hollywood party, another part of me would rather be going to his place. To his bedroom.

"And…." I indulge him, licking my lips, leaning closer to him in the limo where we sit side-by-side. "I can see why millions of American women love you. You play the part of Johnny Jumper well. Sexy, confident, the hero."

"Why does it feel like you're about to say something that’s gonna wreck my self-esteem?" Holden smirks, running a finger down the length of my bare arm. His touch makes my skin prickle with desire.

"I'm not judging you, Holden." I smile softly, remembering the premier, the cameras flashing for him, the elite actors and actresses stopping him—not for a photo op, but to say hello. "I think you're pretty incredible. Coming here to LA, making this life for yourself. You rose up from nothing; you had no connections, no money … just a killer smile and the Holden charm."

He grins, seeming to love the way I'm complimenting him, and I realize that, even though he has so many people fawning over him, maybe he still needs his ego stroked by someone who actually knows where he comes from.

"Is charm a euphemism for big cock?" he asks, his eyes searing into mine.

"You tell me," I tease, leaning closer to him. In a daring move, I reach my hand to his crotch, running my fingers over the growing bulge in his tuxedo pants. "Did you sleep your way to the top?"

He runs his hand over his jaw as the limo pulls up to a lavish mansion.

"All I know is this: I can't wait until after this party to sleep with you, Bexley."

"Then let's not go," I tell him, relieved at the idea of not having to face any more of his colleagues tonight. I still need more time with him, to decide if Holden is playing me or not.

He doesn't hesitate. He calls to the driver and tells him to take us back to his place.

Then he takes my face in his hands. "I want you out of this dress so fucking bad."

If this dress wasn't so awkward I'd tell him to pull it off of me right this second. Instead, I lean in, and his mouth covers mine. Heat explodes over my lips as he presses against me. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I’m melting.

Melting into him, far from the stress of my passive parents and the insecurities of being with him. I sink into his touch, his arms reaching around me, running down my back.

"I need you, girl," he tells me, whispering in my ear as we pull up to his place.

"Good." I need him to want me in a desperate way. It makes me feel less vulnerable about going so far out of my comfort zone.

He opens his front door. It's a gorgeous mansion, very modern. So much black and white that it looks just like my closet.

"Your place is beautiful," I say as he takes my overnight bag and grabs my hand.

"You'll get the tour later—right now, I'm taking you to my room."

He leads me through the house to a massive bedroom. Enormous floor-to-ceiling windows look out at a huge stretch of the Pacific Ocean. It's
holy shit
amazing. He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I take in the view.

"That bed is way bigger than a king-size," I tell him, relishing in this moment where we’re pressed together, looking out at the crashing waves.

"You scouted the room pretty damn fast, woman," he teases, nibbling my ear.

I spin to face him, reaching for my side zipper.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, and reaches for it himself. Slowly, he unhooks the top, then slides the zipper down slowly, his fingertips grazing my ribcage.

I know that once the dress falls to the floor I’ll be bare before him, having taken Sami's advice on the underwear.

My eyes close; his breath is so hot as he steps closer to me.

"It's a custom bed, if that's what you are wondering."

I can't help but reveal my insecurity. "For all the fucking that takes place here?" I dare to open my eyes, look at him.

He feels the jab; I see it in his eyes. "Harsh, Bex."

"Sorry."

"Do you want me to apologize for the women in my past?"

"How far past are you talking?"

His fingers freeze. "I didn't sleep with anyone this week, if that's what you're asking."

"That's some restraint, coming from you."

"Do you wanna do this now?" he asks. My zipper is pulled down; one shimmy of my hips and the entire gown will fall to the floor. "Because, baby, you have a sharp edge coming out. I want to make sure you can handle the cut."

"I'm baby to you now?"

"If you want." He tugs on the dress, and the fabric drops.

I'm naked before him, and I inhale, exposed.

"You avoided the question, Bex." His eyes are still on my face, and I'm both grateful that he's not staring at my tits and uncomfortable for how visible I feel.

"I don't want to fight right now,'" I say truthfully, knowing if we start
that
fight, this entire fantasy will end.

Poof. Up in smoke.

For now, I want to keep this precious flame alive.

"Good. Then stop talking and let me fuck you."

S
he stands before me
, completely undressed, her tits so full, her nipples erect. I watch as she reaches for the pins in her hair, letting her hair down, shaking her head slowly as her tresses fall, her eyes filled with desire. For me.

I won't waste this moment.

I undress–tug off my tie, discard my shirt, drop my pants.

My cock is fucking solid. I step toward her, my eyes on her perfect pussy, and take her hand, setting it on my rod, guiding her as she strokes me up and down, as if she’s practiced, but knowing she has only done this once before.

I've been with enough women to know that there are the haves and the have nots when it comes to being good in the sack. Bex? She's a fucking natural.

She wraps her soft-skinned hand around my length, moving with a gentle rhythm, licking her lips the whole time, as if whetting her appetite. I hope she's fucking starved for my cock.

God knows I'm dying for a taste of her sweet pussy again.

I kneel before her, my arms wrapping around her waist, squeezing her ass cheeks and easing her gap apart, kissing her mound. My tongue teases her folds, already hot as hell for her to warm up.

But just one lick of her perfection and I know this girl is more than ready to enjoy herself.

"You're so wet, baby."

Her hands run through my hair, and she whimpers above me.

Good. I'm gonna make this girl gush before the night is through. Pussy juice is going to coat my mouth, and I'm going to lick her little cunt until she's worn out.

I stand, pick her up in my arms, and carry her to the bed. "Holden," she laughs. "You're gonna drop me."

"Yeah, I am, right in the center of this bed."

I set her down, spreading her knees, and press my mouth back against her pussy, wanting more of her, all of her. I lick her up and down, ass to clit, over and over, and her knees buckle ever so slightly, but I ease them back down." Relax, baby," I tell her. I like using that term of endearment, because I know how shitty I was to her for so fucking long, and now I just want to be good to her. Take care of her. Make her happy.

Starting with her pussy.

I roll my tongue in tight circles over her clit, then press my mouth closer against her folds, sucking against her, and she grabs the sheets beneath her. That brings a huge fucking smile to my face, and I reward her moans by holding her thighs down, opening her up more.

I press my tongue deeper into her pussy, rolling against her hot flesh, tasting every sweet drop of nectar she releases. I cup one hand around her breast, plucking her hard nipple as my face grinds against her dripping gap.

"Holden, oh God, you're making me ... insane," she pants, a hand pulling at my hair. I lap against her—fast, faster, faster—causing her legs to tremble and buckle against me.

So I slow, knowing it will make her insane. I ease my tongue from her and kiss against her hood softly, sprinkling kisses all over her soft pussy, then press a finger in her again, remembering how wet she got when I did this last week.

"I can't breathe, Holden. It's too much."

"Shhh," I tell her, pressing her open wider with my hand, using a finger to press against her until she writhes beneath me. She's sopping wet, and I fucking love it. I move in and out, and my cock is so fucking hard, wanting to get in her warmth.

But I need to ease her tight pussy open first. My cock will break her if I don't take care to ease her perfect body against mine.

She squirts against my hand, her release so fast with my fingers pressing inside her, fluttering against her pleasure point. I pull out my finger, licking it slowly so she can see me.

"You taste so fucking good."

Then I can't help it.

I press my mouth back on her pussy, sucking her hard, up and down her gorgeous slit, until her thighs squeeze tight against my ears, her entire body pulsing as she orgasms. My mouth against her, her thighs against me, and I swear to God, if her pussy was the last thing I saw before I died, I'd go a happy man.

I move above her on the bed. Her skin is slick with sweat and pleasure, and I feel like a fucking man to get this girl off so well.

Now, my cock needs her. Bad.

"What the hell was that?" she asks, her eyes dreamy, her body nearly satiated.

"That was you getting off."

"And you?" she asks. "How do you want to get off?"

I bite my lip at this girl with her innocent nature mixed with her desire to be uninhibited. I have no problem helping her shed any of her skin.

"Ride me, baby," I tell her. "Ride my cock."

She raises her eyes, and I know she likes the idea. Bexley never hid her emotions well unless she was on stage.

I fall on my back, watching as she climbs on top of me. My hands slap against her creamy thighs as she straddles me.

Her tits—fucking hell. I reach for them, massaging those perfect globes in my hands, sitting up slightly so I can suck her nipple, roll my tongue over the tight bud that causes her to whimper again.

"I need your cock," she tells me plainly, in a way none of the girls I've brought to this bed before ever would. "I've been dreaming of it all week."

I grab a condom from the bedside table, and roll it onto my thickness. Her eyes are on my cock as I do, seeming enchanted with the way the latex covers my hard rod.

I lay back down, and she holds my cock with one hand, using her other to press against her dripping entrance and lubricate my cock with her pussy juice, like she's done this a hundred fucking times.

I swear I could come right then and there, shoot my release across her gorgeous tits. Instead, she raises onto her knees, then slowly sits down on my throbbing cock. She holds my shaft as she guides herself against me, and her other hand runs through her hair. Her head is thrown back, her back arching, with her tits displayed in all their splendor.

"You're so fucking hot," I tell her, not having any more words but hoping these are enough.

"You’re so fucking big."

I laugh, so rarely having heard Bexley use the F word. It's sexy as hell.

"Your fingers were nice, and so was your mouth—but Holden, your cock fills me up so ... so...." She rocks against me, her hips swerving in a circle, and stops mid-sentence.

"I fill you up how?" I ask, teasing her, my hands on her waist.

"You feel me up
completely
."

"Good."

"Mmhhhmm," she moans, her eyes closed. "Oh, yes, baby."

Her use of the word
baby
gets me fucking harder than I've ever been before, and I thrust against her like an animal, realizing that I fucking need this woman in a way I've never known was real.

"Oh, yeah," she purrs, her hands grabbing my chest, bracing herself as her pussy pours against my groin, and she rolls harder against me, over and over, as she presses deep against me, getting off in every sense of the word. "Oh, my God, yes, yes, yes."

She orgasms against me, and I can't wait anymore.

I pull her off me, quickly ease her onto all fours, and then press my raging cock into her pussy from behind, grabbing hold of her tits as I plow into her perfect cunt, letting my cock fill her entirely, my come exploding from the tip of my rod.

I squeeze her hips as I finish. She’s gasping in the aftershocks of the torrential orgasm. This girl was drenched up and down, licked dry, and fucked silly.

Pulling from her, I take off the condom, hating that we had anything between us at all.

She turns and faces me, her eyes filled with lust, filled with the knowledge of what she and I are capable of. Filled with ideas of how we might fuck next.

Good. Because Bexley and me, we're just getting started.