The Bad Boy Wants Me: A Bad Boy Romance (13 page)

Tori

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60ItHLz5WEA

I
f not for the long queue of people waiting to go in and the remarkably large bouncers gathered outside the wooden doors, I would never have imagined that those bland doors are the entrance to London’s ultimate in naughty burlesque and fantasy cabaret. A place that is supposed to give one of the strangest nightclub experiences in all of London’s night life.

Even before the Mercedes comes to a halt, Cash’s security detail jump out of their vehicles and head quickly towards our car. All eyes immediately turn curiously in our direction with the knowledge that a celebrity is about to emerge from it.

Both Cash’s door and mine get opened at the same time. I take a deep breath and slide out nervously. So many eyes are on me. Then Cash steps out on the other side and instantly there are shouts, whistles and wild screams. People start calling out his name. Cameras start flashing.

Surrounded by his menacing team of guards, Cash looks to me, smiles and thank God, takes my hand in his. Then we are quickly escorted towards the entrance doors.

Suddenly a bunch of girls leave the queue and rush forward squealing Cash’s name and stretching out their hands to touch him. I immediately feel intimidated by the surge, but Cash seems to take it all in his stride. He lets go of my hand and stops. He even shakes some hands. A girl begs for his autograph and suddenly thrusts her arm to him. Immediately Cash’s security team form a wall to block her.

‘Hey, it’s cool,’ Cash says, and taking a pen from one of the security team proceeds to sign her arm.

‘I love you,’ she screams as the red ropes are lifted and we are ushered quickly into what looks like a large theatre with two stages and meters upon meters of luxurious red velvet, exquisite gold embellishment and candles everywhere.

Oiled-up naked beauties hang from the ceilings and dance on top of bathtubs. I know, weird, but wonderful. A woman named Ashleigh, one of the hostesses, comes to show us to a cordoned off private party area. There is red banquette seating and it is already crowded with people. The only people I recognize are Octavia and Gavin and two other members of Alkaline. Octavia smiles tightly at me, and Gavin gives me a slow smile.

Cash starts introducing me to them. There are too many for me to remember, but the thing I notice straight away is how quickly the other women eye me up and down, then immediately set out to completely ignore me. As we mingle I even find myself being deliberately elbowed out of the way. Disgusted, I let go of Cash’s hand and almost instantly other people push me out of the way, like water closing on something. I turn away to go back to the table and a pair of strong arms catches me by the forearms.

‘Hey,’ Cash says, turning me around. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Look. I know everybody wants to talk to you. I don’t blame them, you’re the star. I’ll just go back to the table and wait for you there.’

He frowns. ‘Fuck off, you will. You’re with me. If I wanted to spend the night with them I would have come on my own.’

‘Cash,’ someone calls.

‘See,’ I say softly.

‘No, I don’t see,’ he says, and putting his arm around my waist turns to the person who called him. Now that it is clear I am to be part of the conversation and cannot be pushed away, some of the group reluctantly include me in their discussion.

I understand that my voice is not welcome so I don’t say much. I just listen to what everyone else has to say and I try very hard not to watch Cash avidly or not to be distracted by his thumb slowly rubbing the small of my back.

Thank God for the shows! I watch them with something akin to astonishment. No wonder they have a ban on phones and cameras. Nobody back home would believe the ‘cabaret’ shows at The Box.

Two naked pre-op transvestites suck up the contents of a bottle of champagne into their butts and then spray it on the audience. No, you didn’t get that wrong. I did say butt and not mouth. Cash laughs at my shocked expression and tells me that is what it means to transcend the concept of indecency! There are also strip shows and a rather impressive fire eating stunt.

Eventually food is ordered. Everyone has burgers and fries since it seems to be the only thing on the menu. After the show, the DJ plays plenty of dance hits and the dance floor fills up. When Cash excuses himself to go to the toilet, Robbie, one of the other band members who is very drunk, turns to me and says, ‘Hey, Yoko.’ There is something nasty in his voice. That gets the attention of the whole table.

‘What did you call me?’ I ask.

‘Are you planning to be a Yoko?’ he says again, this time louder.

I feel my face start to burn. What the hell is a Yoko? All eyes at the table are on me. Some of them are openly sneering.

‘Leave her alone, Robbie,’ Gavin says.

‘No, let her answer,’ Octavia says, her jaw tight.

I sit forward, anger storming at my gut, but I keep my voice even. No way in hell am I going to let this bunch of spoilt, entitled, green-eyed, immature shits get to me. ‘I’d answer if I knew what you were talking about.’

‘You know Yoko Ono. John Lennon’s big mistake. The bitch split the Beatles up.’

With the exception of Gavin everyone at that table is hostile to me. The women are bubbling with jealousy and the men feel threatened that I will lure their precious superstar away from them. Cash and I have hardly started our relationship, it is at the just sex stage, and yet all these people see me as some kind of jezebel.

‘I have absolutely no intention of breaking the group up,’ I say clearly.

‘Let’s hope so,’ a man in a suit says sarcastically.

Octavia says nothing. Just looks at me with hatred glowing in her eyes. The intensity of her animosity shocks me and I turn blindly to the only person who seems to offer any kind of support.

Gavin winks at me as if to say I did OK, and I mouth thank you.

Everybody is deliberately watching me and trying to make me feel unwanted and unwelcome, so I casually pick up a cold fry from my plate and slip it daintily into my mouth, as if I don’t feel the waves of loathing coming at me. I chew it slowly, it tastes and feels like a wad of cold newspapers in my mouth. Then, without warning, everyone starts talking and laughing normally, I stare at them thinking I must be going mad when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Ah, they saw him arriving. I look up at him with relief.

‘Want to dance?’ he asks.

I can’t even speak. I just nod and get to my feet. He leads me to one of the little raised platforms all around the club that are being used as mini dance floors. Faded is playing when Cash takes me into his arms. He doesn’t dance like anyone else. He just holds me close to his body, his hands enveloping me, and moves slowly so the only thing between us is the music swirling around us. He looks into my eyes and smiles so long and slow and I think my heart will stop. All the while I can feel his erection press into my stomach.

‘That’s what you do,’ he whispers.

‘What?’ I whisper back.

He puts his forehead to mine. ‘You make me fade away.’

My brain refuses to believe. Impossible. ‘Not the adored, famous, sex god, Cash Hunter?’ I croak.

His lips are an inch away from mine. ‘Do you always have to be this annoying?’ he asks.

‘I call out bullshit as I smell it,’ I say.

He chuckles. ‘You’re right. The truth is you make me so fucking hard I can’t even think straight anymore,’ he says and takes my lips.

My heart pounds and I actually feel as if I am drowning in Cash Hunter. When he takes his mouth away I stare up at him, dazed, my legs like jelly, and my head spinning.

‘Excuse me, can we have an autograph please?’ a voice says and I jump.

Startled out of my world, I swing my head towards two young women not much older than me, their faces animated and filled with excitement. They are staring at Cash as if they can’t believe their eyes. I turn my head back to him and unlike how he had been outside, there is now an expression of extreme irritation on his face. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to them. ‘Not right now,’ he says tightly.

They look so utterly crushed I feel sorry for them. I see myself in them. Once that was me. I would have killed for an autograph. OK, maybe not killed, but I could have not eaten for days, or something equally difficult. I turn back towards Cash and smile. ‘Go ahead. I don’t mind.’

An expression crosses his face. He looks suddenly tired and older. He lets go of me and as he turns towards them, the public face of Cash Hunter drops into place and he flashes one of his superstar smiles.

One of them hands him a paper napkin and the other a piece of paper with the club’s logo at the top. The girls gaze at him adoringly while he signs. They clutch their prizes to their chests and thank him profusely.

He turns to me. ‘Are you ready to hit the road?’

I nod.

He takes my hand and we start towards the entrance.

‘Don’t you have to tell your friends first?’ I ask curiously.

‘Nah, they’ll figure it out soon enough.’

Cash

‘I
f you don’t take that dress off right now I’m gonna rip it off you,’ I tell her, as I close the front door behind me and lean against it.

She turns around, her eyes flashin
g
she doesn’t like being ordered about. Nevertheless, she reaches behind for the zip. I watch her slip the little black pieces of material covered in gold flowers down her arms. She is not wearing a bra and her nipples are already hard, ready little stones. Carefully, she steps out of the dress. I watch her hang the dress over a chair. There is something insolent about the way she deliberately takes her own sweet time, even though I know she is wild for it and sopping wet.

It makes me want to punish her.

To fuck her until her pussy is raw.

‘Go into my bedroom and sit on the bed. With your legs wide open.’

For a second she stares at me defiantly then she turns around and obeys. I tug at my bowtie and watch her sexy ass as she walks naked, but for those sexy heels, towards my bedroom.

I start unbuttoning my shirt. ‘And don’t fucking take those shoes off,’ I call.

She doesn’t reply.

Fuck the girl is begging to be punished.

I give her a few seconds more before I turn up at the door, sans jacket, shoes and shirt. She is sitting propped up against the pillows and as instructed her legs are wide open. Her pussy is puffy, the glistening folds protruding invitingly out of her sex lips. And that small tight hole. It gapes and begs to be filled, and my cock throbs to enter it.

I smile slowly as I yank the last of my clothes off and advance.

Her eyes are riveted on my cock and her chest rises and falls fast. When I am close enough, the heady scent of her arousal fills my nostrils and that unfamiliar and beautiful thing happens again. The rest of the world ceases to matter. I lose control.

Like a hungry man, I swoop down on that deliciously sticky sex of hers. I stick my tongue into her hole and she gasps my name. Watching her face, I keep my tongue pushed deep inside her until I feel her heartbeat inside her pussy. Fast. Excited. Amazing. Then I suck her clit like a man sucking the flavor out of a piece of toffee until she comes with a force that shakes her to her very core.

I lift my head and watch her.

Spread out on my pillow. Her angel hair tangled, her mouth parted, her eyes glazed, and her ripe breasts flushed. I let my eyes travel down to her sex, open, helpless, and throbbing for me … and I feel that wild and feral urge to brand her.

To call her mine.

To fucking make her mine.

Putting my hands on either side of her body, I mount her. She whimpers and her hands grip my upper-arms tightly as the thick, mushroomed head of my cock stretches her.

‘Oh Cash,’ she trembles as I force my way in until her pussy has swallowed my entire cock. Her whole body jerks while I pound her ferociously. It is not long before I explode inside her, my seed spilling everywhere, coating her insides.

I pull out of her and walk to the cupboard. I open it and rummage around inside a drawer. I lay my hands on a red dildo. I bring it back to the bed. She is still lying there, her legs open and my cum trickling out of her.

Tori

I stare up at him silently.

He holds a fire-engine red dildo out to me. ‘Put it inside you and make yourself come,’ he says.

‘I’m tired. I don’t want to come anymore.’

‘Do it for me,’ he cajoles softly. ‘I want to watch.’

I hold out my hand and he puts it into mine. It is made of rubber and it’s cold. I have never had a dildo inside me before. ‘Put it in for me,’ I say.

He shakes his head. ‘I want to see you pleasure yourself.’

‘Please,’ I beg.

He takes the dildo and hunkers down between my legs. The head is quite thick and he places it at my entrance and pushes it into me while he avidly watches the red thing enter me.

‘Play with yourself while I fuck you with this,’ he says.

I circle my clit while he thrusts the thick instrument into me. As I climb higher his speed increases until I finally climax so hard I am sobbing his name. He sits there watching me. I reach for the dildo to pull it out.’  

‘Don’t take the toy out,’ he commands.

I let go of the toy and allow my hand hang limp over the side of the mattress. Unable to bear his eyes on me anymore, and with the toy still lodged inside my sated pussy, I turn over on my side. He circles one ankle with his hand and lifts my legs so they make a wide V. I see him watch my pussy with the bright red toy sticking out of it.

‘Beautiful,’ he says softly.

He reaches for the toy, pulls it out of me with a sucking sound, and puts it between my lips. 

I draw in a sharp breath and at first I refuse to open my mouth. I stare at him defiantly. Then slowly I open my mouth and the toy slides between my lips.

‘Suck it,’ he orders.

I obey him.             

He smiles slowly. Then he bends down and sucks my pussy. Laps up all the juices.

I enjoy the sensation of his gentle licking. When he lifts his head I sigh.

‘That was nice,’ I whisper.

‘This will be better than nice,’ he says, and thrusts his cock into me again. He pounds me until he comes, his hands possessively gripping my hips and with a triumphant roar. He lays beside me, the scent of sex all around us.

'Cash?’

‘Mmmm …’

‘Why didn’t you want to give an autograph to those two girls in the club? It seemed a bit mean. It was so little to ask and it was obvious how important it was to them. It would have been something they would have treasured for a long time, maybe even for the rest of their lives. Years from now they will be talking about the time they met Cash Hunter.’

For a few seconds Cash doesn’t say anything and I think he is not going to answer me, then he sighs. ‘The fans think they own you. They have the right to walk up to you anywhere they see you and get their little piece of you. For the most part I can put on my ‘play nice’ face and sign their CDs or little scraps of paper or body parts, but sometimes, like tonight, when they want to intrude even in my smallest moments of privacy and beauty, I lose it.’

He turns his head to look at me.

‘Fucking hell, Tori, some of them are so crazily hooked they simply can’t get enough of you. They’re so mad they actually come up to me and tell me their rooms are shrines to me! Can you believe that? They own every Cash Hunter record, mug, spoon, pillowcase, doll. Because they watched every video and documentary and read every magazine article on me, they think they know who I am. How I think. How I feel. They think that they know the real Cash Hunter. The fuck they do!’

He gets up on his elbow. 

‘Cash Hunter is a fantasy. Created in part by myself, but mostly by the record company’s PR machine, and enhanced by a mercenary media’s ravenous hunger for celebrity scandal. The irony is even I don't know who the fuck Cash Hunter
is anymore, babe.’

He lays his palm on my belly and strokes it absently.

‘The worst ones are the ones that stalk you and try to pass their number to you through any means possible. They’ll bombard the record company with messages of love and whatever else. They’ll come to gigs and they’ll lie, cheat and do anything to get backstage. Those are the ones who want to get with me. Like being fucked by me is going to change their lives in some meaningful way. There are some who promise never to wash again. I mean can you believe that shit!’

He shakes his head and I feel the coldness seep into my heart. I see me from his point of view. The crazy mad fan he is describing was once me. My room was a shrine to him. I read and watched everything about him and convinced myself that I was in love with him.

‘Isn’t it wonderful that your fans love you so much?’ I whisper.

‘No, it’s not wonderful to be mobbed, or have your clothes torn off your body, or have girls befriend your sister just to get to you. It was definitely not wonderful when one of them climbed the gate, broke a window and ended up inside my house. She told the police she didn’t mean any harm. She was in love with me and was only looking for memorabilia.’

‘Well, I really should be going back,’ I say, and my voice shakes. My heart feels hurt. What will he think when I tell him about me? About the real me? The me that was crazy about him? The me that travelled across half the world to close the door on my crush? Will I too become that person he holds in so much contempt?

‘Are you OK?’ he asks with a frown.

I force a smile. ‘Sure. Just don’t want to accidentally fall asleep here.’

‘When do you plan to tell my sister? I don’t like this sneaking about?’

‘Soon,’ I promise.

But first I have to tell you about the real me and then you might not want to be in a relationship with me anymore.