But there was something about her. Fuck. I couldn’t stop thinking about that dress and what her skin must have felt like.
I turned back from the window and caught Livy giving me the two minutes sign. Another reporter had just walked into the room and was setting up a small camera.
Time to go fucking smile and kiss Uncle Sam’s ass on national television.
That was my fucking life now.
By the time the day ended, I was tired as hell. I kicked open my hotel room door and tossed my shit onto the dresser.
I sat down on the bed, collapsing back onto the comforter. This was the point in the night when I normally found the closest bar and tried to pick some girl up, but the only thing I really wanted was something to drink and to eat.
And Selena. The damn girl kept plaguing my mind, wouldn’t leave me alone. What pissed me off most was that she had listened when I’d told her to dress nice. I adjusted myself in bed, sitting with my back against the headboard, and shut my eyes.
I pictured what it would be like to get her back in my room. I’d slip her dress off her shoulders and kiss her smooth, pale skin softly.
I reached down my jeans, tugging them off and grabbing my thick, hard cock as I began to picture Selena down on her knees in front of me. Her dress would be half off, exposing her breasts, as she began to suck my cock. I’d grunt at her, tell her how fucking sexy it looked when she put my dick between her lips, make her keep sucking me nice and hard.
She’d look up at me like I kept imagining, both coy and fucking sexy all at once. She’d suck my cock with abandon, not shy at all once she got a little dick in her mouth.
And then I’d lift her up and throw her down, bending her over the bed. I’d push her dress up and slowly push my fingers deep inside her soaking wet pussy. She wouldn’t wear panties, because she knew what she was coming over for.
She was coming to get fucked by me. And I’d make her beg for it first, make her moan my name with my fingers. I knew how to take care of a woman, how to make her fucking come over and over. I’d work her body, slap her ass, and whisper dirty shit in her ear.
And finally I’d slowly press my cock deep between her legs. Her tight fucking pussy would grip my cock as I began to fuck her.
I pictured all of this while jerking myself off. I hadn’t gotten off the night before, and so my cock was hard as fuck just thinking about Selena. I couldn’t believe it, but it drove me mad just thinking about fucking my fake wife. I’d fuck that pussy rough from behind, listen to her moan, make her scream my name.
I’d reach around her legs and rub her clit and whisper in her ear. I’d make her mine, fuck her rough, make her come. And just as she had a big, fat fucking orgasm on my thick cock, I’d whisper in her ear, tell her how she was mine now. How I owned her pussy. My fake wife, my dirty slut.
Fuck. Thinking about Selena drove me fucking crazy. I jerked myself off until I came thinking about Selena’s tits, covering her perky fucking tits in my cum.
I sat back, taking deep breaths. I hadn’t jerked off in a while, hadn’t needed to. I stood up and walked into the bathroom, cleaning myself off. What the fuck was wrong with me? I couldn’t believe I was sitting inside jerking myself off instead of getting out there and finding some pussy to occupy my mind.
I left the bathroom, shaking my head, and grabbed the phone. I called up room service and ordered a steak and a whisky.
Fuck it. This was my last night in Philly, and I was on thin ice with the fucking publishers. I’d lay low for the night and get back to my old self tomorrow. Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have an unlimited supply of whisky and steak in this fancy hotel, all billed to the publishing company.
I kicked back up on the bed and turned on the TV, looking for some half-decent sports to watch. After a few minutes, I heard a knock at my door.
I got up, pulling my pants back on. “Coming,” I grunted, and walked to the door.
I pulled it open. “That was fast,” I said, but it wasn’t room service.
“Am I too late?” Selena asked me.
I grinned hugely at her. My eyes roamed her body, and I felt a thrill run through my chest.
“No,” I said. “You’re right on time.”
7
Selena
I didn’t know what the heck I was doing as I walked down the hotel’s hallway.
I nervously tugged at my skirt, biting my lip, as I approached room number 234. I stared at the door and had the sudden, violent urge to run away, very, very fast.
I couldn’t believe I was seriously there. I couldn’t believe I was inches away from knocking, moments away from getting involved with a dangerous, attractive stranger.
And he was a stranger, despite having seen him on television and online for months. I didn’t know a thing about him, and really I had only skimmed his book for the most basic information. Maybe all the tabloid stuff was a lie and he was actually a really good guy. Or maybe I was going to be thrown into something I couldn’t understand with a man I was afraid I couldn’t resist.