“I’ll admit that I’m attracted to you Mister Taylor.”
“And what about the stuff I said earlier. Did he ever do anything like I described?”
“I don’t want to talk about me and Rafe.”
“I meant what I said about fucking in risky places. Where there’s a chance of being caught or even people watching.” She was so close then I could almost kiss her. “Or would you like me to tie your wrists and explore you until you’re screaming? Are you wet for me now?
“Stop it, Mister Taylor,” Kylie whispered.
“I’ll trace ice cubes from the champagne bucket over your breasts and over your stomach.”
“As well as the sex, which will be fucking devastating, we’ll eat and drink and see the sights – the Mona Lisa, the Eiffel Tower, and we’ll take a private boat trip along the Seine and make love as we drift past Notre Dame.”
I paused to let the girl picture it all in her mind’s eye.
“Look at me, Kylie,” I muttered eventually. “Feel how hard I am for you.” I placed her hand on the bulge in my trousers.
The girl gasped and pulled her hand away as though the fire in my cock had burned.
I reached for her hand again and returned it to the ridged outline.
“Are you wet?” I breathed against Kylie’s neck.
“Yes,” she replied on a sigh.
2 – Paris (Kylie)
When I stop and think, not that I’ve had much time to pause and take a breath lately, I still can’t believe I let him talk me into it. I mean I was supposed to all cut up about Rafe, heartbroken and then obsessed by my idea of getting back at Jenny, but Damien Taylor said those things to me in the restaurant, and the way that he said them made my head spin.
When Damien kept on saying all that stuff, right there surrounded by other people who were all – thank God, oblivious, he opened a door to my imagination, a place that felt bad to walk into, good bad, not bad bad – like sexy bad. I got the same wicked, naughty feeling I used to get fooling around with Rafe when my dad was in the house.
Damien kind of hit the right note when he started up with the talk. Of course I was disgusted by the things he said he’d do, but he somehow managed to slide around that and what he said fascinated me too. I couldn’t tell him that what he was saying had my body reacting in the way it was. I could feel a pulse between my legs as I got all wet down there. And that stuff about tying my hands and exploring me, about how he’d excite me and I wouldn’t be able to touch myself – Oh my God did THAT ever make me want to squirm.
His ultimatum, the sexual contract, took my breath away. I was shocked at his audacity. OK, I know he’s got the reputation to be a hard negotiator, but I never expected the condition attached to him giving me the lead role would involve anything so sordid. I’d joked about the casting couch but had no idea he had that he really had that kind of thing in mind all along. At that point, no matter how sexy he’d made me feel, I knew I had to make a stand. If he thought he could just use me for sex he’d never take me seriously. There was no way I’d let him do that.
I rose to leave, even though part of me wanted to stay. The dirty girl voice inside my head told me to stay and take him up on his offer of hot, wild sex, but I couldn’t listen to that voice.
What stopped me from storming out in a righteous huff was the reminder that I’d gone to him in the first place, that I’d wanted to be the big star and outdo my tramp of a sister, the woman with the morals of an alley-cat.
When he told me he understood the pain of loss and that he knew I was fragile and that he wouldn’t cheat on me, he came over as sensitive and caring, and when he said our contract would be exclusive, binding us together, I wanted so much to believe him. Then he started with the sex in risky places stuff, and I felt myself grow getting damp. He talked about hot, nasty sex and tender love-making on a boat on the river.
So here we are, in Paris. I’m seeing the sights, eating in fantastic restaurants and sipping coffee in street cafes and rubbing shoulders with rude Parisians. I saw a guy park his car yesterday, right on the corner of the street, almost blocking a path for pedestrians. The guy actually nudged his way into the space between the other two cars. Literally bumped them with his own car to edge into the gap. How crazy is that!
Shooting on the film is going great, and both Damien and Alexandra Eagleton, his assistant, are being so supportive. Alexandra has become a friend even though she got into a little hot water for letting me trick her into seeing Damien. I don’t know if I’d have had the nerve to actually go through with the acting if it hadn’t been for Alexandra’s support.