"Want to get fucked by the famous porn star? So you have a story to tell your friends?"
"What? No! I would never..."
He licked his lips, circling his hips slightly. The tip of his cock eased inside me. He eased in slowly, then he stopped.
"You wouldn't, would you? That's too bad. Such a good girl, doing such bad things..."
His eyes were cold as he stared down at me. His hand reached down and rubbed my clit. I started moaning as he made me cum on his cock. He didn't fuck me. He just sat there.
I was whimpering when he made me cum the second time. I felt empty, craving the pressure of his cock.
I wanted more.
I wanted him.
By the third time I came, I was crying tears of humiliation.
He just watched me, like you would watch a bug wiggling around on the ground. I was helpless, pinned in place by his cock, a slave to his fingers. I couldn't push him away. I wanted him to keep going. But not like this. This was wrong.
He was punishing me. Humiliating me. And he was very, very thorough about it.
I don't know how long I laid there on that couch. Or how many times I came. It was at least 8. Maybe 10. Only once did Trent's cold facade crack, right at the end. He leaned back and closed his eyes as I creamed all over his cock the last time.
Then he pulled out, wiping his stiff cock off with a napkin.
He took his seat, not looking at me.
I lay there, feeling utterly shattered. I tugged my dress down over myself, feeling ashamed of my traitorous body. I still wanted him. But I wanted answers too.
"Why Trent? I thought... I thought we were friends."
"I wanted more than that. But I'll take what I can get."
He laughed, finally looking at me.
"I mean I took what I wanted, when I wanted it. I'm satisfied. Are you?"
I was shaking as the plane landed. I was shaking in the limo ride home. I was shaking as he let me out, not bothering to walk me to the front door.
I stepped inside and collapsed against the wall. I slid to the floor, sobs wracking my body.
Thankfully, it was eleven and Char was already in bed. She was reliable that way. The meds she took at bedtime tended to knock her out. Mrs. Keeley was sleeping in my bed so I showered and made a makeshift bed on the lumpy old couch.
I closed my eyes, seeing Trent's hard face as he made me cum over and over again.
He'd used me horribly. And yet, somehow I had a terrible feeling that I'd hurt him. That he was reacting to something I had said.
One thing I knew for sure.
I could never face him again.
Chapter Eighteen Trent
A warm tongue licked my side. It was wet and sloppy. I reached out, pushing Hendrix away.
"Bad dog."
He whimpered, pressing his cold nose against my ear. I was face down on the floor. I was cold and stiff and miserable. Not only that, I was still drunk after five or six days of debauchery. I would get drunk, sober up briefly and then sink back into the deep hole I was digging myself.
A couple of weeks now. This was by far the worst bender I'd ever gone on.
This was epic.
But nothing had done a thing to erase the memory of Lexi's face as she stared up at me, begging me to take mercy on her. Begging me to fuck her. To participate.
To love her back.
I had no mercy.
And now I had lost her.
It was all my own fault. I could have wooed her, convinced her it was more than a fling. I could have proved that I was in it for the long haul. But I was too hurt by her words.
So I'd lashed out. I'd hurt and humiliated her. I would never, ever forgive myself for it either. The way she'd looked, spread open for me as I played her body like a musical instrument. I'd been totally in control of her body and my own desires. I'd won.
And now I was paying for it. My sad and lonely life was one big hangover.
I hadn't gone out. I didn't want to see anyone. I'd just slowly worked my way through a case of bourbon. And three cases of beer. No drugs. I didn't want to even see anyone long enough to do the handoff.
"You look horrible."
I rolled to my back, shielding my eyes from the glaring light.
"Joss. Who the fuck let you in?"
"A nice lady."
I grunted, picking up the closest bottle and taking a deep pull.
"A nice lady who said something about quitting her job if you didn't crawl out of the hole you were in."
I groaned, taking another swig.
"A bit early isn't it?"
He reached down and pulled the bottle away. I was weak as a baby as I reached for it, cursing at him.
"Give it back!"
"Fuck no."
Joss walked away and set the bottle back on the bar. It was too far away for me to get. Instead, I started looking around for another bottle. There were enough of them laying around. He looked at me, shaking his head.
"January called. She was worried about you."
"So you flew here from Miami to check in on me?"
He stared at me like I was something he'd just scraped off his shoe.
"No. I have a new client. A-list celebrity. I'm meeting her here."
"Who?"
He shook his head at me. Not that I cared anyway. I didn't care about anything anymore.
"You know I'm not at liberty to say."