Dirty Boy (15 page)

She needed to leave. And throw-up. And scream in frustration. She didn’t need lube. And she didn’t need to listen to Max with another woman.

“Hey, Story.” Ryker’s massive hand landed on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“How many different women is he with in a day’s time?” she whispered before she could stop herself, then winced at Ryker’s surprise, the question hanging between them. She wished to take it back. Max was a
porn star.
He fucked for a living. If she couldn’t handle that, then she couldn’t handle their agreement. She had no claim on him, and he hadn’t lied to her. He was in the business of pleasure, especially his own.

“Ready,” Max called, a few minutes later, swatting Vista’s ass as she headed for a stool on the other side of the set.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Ryker asked, both frustration and understanding in his tone.

Story shook her head.

“Max is too damaged for any sort of normal relationship, Story,” he said in a soft voice, so only she’d hear. “If you can’t handle that, then leave before you’re in too deep.”

“Okay.” She stepped closer to him. “Will you lend me the money? I swear I’ll repay you. I just need to get home.”

Before she finished the words, Ryker shook his head. “I’ve helped you as much as I intend to. I have my own problems. Just because I’m being nice to you doesn’t mean I’ll help you. This is my business, too. If you leave now, we’re in a bind. I’m not helping you to fuck over my family any more than you and Babs have already done.”

“What the fuck’s the problem?” Max stepped between them, pointed to his still hard cock, and pinned Story with a hard stare. “This won’t last forever. What’s the problem?”

Story plastered a smile on her face. “I need…I mean I’m not wet.” The truth. As long as he didn’t ask why. He wouldn’t appreciate his being with other women affected her desire.

Ryder nodded. “No problem. I’ll get what you need to take care of it. Make sure you put a lot in your pussy.”

Embarrassment washed through her.

“Roll in five.” Max grabbed Story’s hand into his and led her to the bed. His shuttered expression made it impossible for Story to read his thoughts. Then, he lowered his mouth to hers and settled his hands at her waist, his tongue teasing her lips open. Story lifted up on her tiptoes, clutching his biceps and trying her best not to lose herself in the kiss. His tongue caressed hers, stroking along the tender walls of her mouth and making her heart pound. His fingertips caressed her hip, skimming to her pubic bone and finding her feminine mound. Using two fingers, he caressed her clit in slow strokes that turned agonizing as her need built.

Story told herself to hold still. That two could be as cold and unfeeling about this whole thing. But the more she attempted to resist by holding herself rigid, the more insistent Max’s fingers became. He slid his fingers into her and grunted, massaging her clit and distributing her growing moistness.

She groaned into his mouth, felt the buildup of her impending orgasm. It rose up in her like the cresting of a wave and she trembled, her breath hitching. Thinking to withdraw before she fell apart, Story tore her mouth from Max’s. Instead of releasing her, he tightened his hold on her, lifted her into his arms and flipped her over, plastering his mouth against her clit.

Her legs trembled and a sharp moan fell from her mouth as her orgasm rocked through her. Max’s hard cock pressed against Story’s cheek but she closed her eyes, tempted to take him into her mouth. He hadn’t washed Vista’s spit from his dick, so she couldn’t do it.

He laid her down on the bed and Story met his gaze. His eyes were dark with desire. And anger. A whole lot of anger. His jaw clenched and she swore he hated her.

“Are we ready, Max?” Eric’s call broke the moment.

“Yes.” Max settled next to her on the bed, caressing her hair and cheek. Planting a soft kiss on her mouth, he bent her legs, pushed them up, and spread them wide. “The scene requires noise, Story. We want to hear your pleasure at having my cock in you. Understood?”

“Yes.” As Ryker angled the camera above them, getting a helluva view himself, Max crawled between her legs and sank into her.

Closing his eyes, Max grunted at the tight grip of Story’s cunt. He couldn’t look at her right now. In simple terms, he hated her. When he’d kissed her, he’d wanted her at ease. Lubing her up would’ve been fine, but Story needed more for her reactions to be genuine.

Once upon a time, Max had liked kissing. He was so fucking good at it. But he hadn’t used his mouth and tongue for much other than eating pussy in recent years. Not that he was complaining. Pussy was delicious and he was as good at eating it as he was at kissing.

When he’d picked up on Story’s resistance, he’d doubled his efforts to win the silent battle. Then, he
had
won and made her come. His fingers alone would’ve been enough. However, after smelling her arousal, he’d had to taste her, a fantasy come to life. For so long, he’d dreamed of burying his face between her legs.

He should’ve stuck to lubing her up. He shouldn’t have allowed all the various emotions he’d seen in her eyes get to him after Vista had sucked his dick. He shouldn’t have recognized the emotion in the first fucking place.

He slammed into her and she gasped.

“Louder, Story,” Ryker ordered.

Max pushed into her again. Opening his eyes, he fell back on his knees, dragging her with him, careful to keep her legs spread, so the cameras captured every angle of her wet pussy. Hot, slick, and tight, she clung to him, her eyes never leaving his face. The intimacy between them shouldn’t be captured for the world to see.

“Cut!” Eric called.

It felt so fucking good inside of her, Max barely had it in him to halt his strokes.

“I need you louder, Story, and I need you to fucking talk dirty, Max.”

“You stopped them for that?” Ryker argued. “I’m getting some good pussy shots, Eric. We’ll deal with the other shit later.”

“Fine,” Eric grumbled. “Her pussy isn’t as fine as Greta’s, but it’ll do.”

The words registered with Max as mortification rose on Story’s face.

He wouldn’t take time to explain that this was normal conversation. She’d learn. Until she did, discussing her in such a manner was off-limits.

He resisted pulling out of Story and getting to his feet to charge Eric and shove him backward because she turned her head away.

“Listen, motherfucker, this is hard enough for her. Stop mentioning Greta or her cunt or any fucking thing else about her. As a matter of fact, don’t talk about Story’s pussy if you don’t want me to rip your fucking nuts off.” He glared at Ryker. “Am I clear?”

Eric scowled at him but nodded. Ryker didn’t say a word, keeping his face blank and avoiding Max’s gaze.

“What?” Max bellowed to the room at large. They were all staring at him like he’d grown three heads. And then it dawned on him. He’d sounded like a possessive, jealous freak. Like the fucking baggage some of the girls brought to shoots who made everyone uncomfortable at having to fuck another man’s girlfriend or wife. “She’s new to the business,” he explained in a calmer voice. “Let’s ease her in. That’s all.”

“Sure, Max,” Ryker called.

Eric shook his head, far from amused.

Max’s anger deflated his erection. Kissing her had gotten him hard as a rock, harder than having Vista’s mouth on him. But it had chinked a tiny piece of the wall around his soul. And that he couldn’t afford.

“Vista?” he said, his gaze fastened on Story. “I need another dick suck.”

A mutinous look entered Story’s eyes and her nostrils flared, but she didn’t say a word and instead focused on the ceiling while Vista sucked his cock.

As soon as Max led Story into his apartment, she headed for the staircase without speaking a word to him. Her entire demeanor had been muted and he didn’t like this new side of her at all.

Since he’d showered at the studio, he headed to his office. The same cold, sterile furniture greeted him.  His living room had a cream and brown scheme. This office was gray. Light gray walls, dark gray carpeting. His decorator had even managed to find gray fucking furniture.

Sighing, he walked to his desk and sat, an invitation he’d propped against the lamp, weeks ago, reminding him of a party he and Greta had been scheduled to attend. He could still go and partake of the pussy, drugs, alcohol, and food. It would take his mind off Story’s misery.

Her discomfort—jealousy?—would be a
huge
issue
.
He foresaw it. Unlike each and every time before, how to handle it escaped him. The difference was
her.
Her response and her attitude. Without a word or gesture, she flipped him off. Her eyes said,
fuck you, fuck off,
in spite of how her body responded to his.

She needed to fucking go. But he wanted her to stay. He wanted to conquer her, control her, and corrupt her. Her acceptance of her situation took him out of his comfort zone. She fought back but she didn’t beat a dead fucking horse.

If he backed her into a corner, she shifted gears and conceded. On the surface. Who knew what the fuck she privately plotted?

The way she’d lost her virginity seemed to weigh on
him
more than it did
her.

Or was that it? The
real
reason why he was upset and she was jealous. Her lost virginity. Perhaps, Max had finally fucking hit upon her attitude.

She expected…fuck,
what?
...
something
from him as her first. And
he
felt as if he owed her something for the same reason.

The admission didn’t amuse him. More than ever, she needed to go. One way to get rid of her was discovering her guilt or innocence in the money stealing. He’d give her that much and choose his next course of action.

After a moment, he decided to call his stepmother, a task he should’ve thought to do the moment Story had shown up. Her appearance had thrown him off his game.

It took him a moment to find Barbra’s contact information. When he did, he sat at his desk and dialed her number. She answered after five rings, right before Max would’ve hung up.

“Hello, Barbra,” he greeted, the distaste he felt for her clear in his tone.

“Uh…who—”

“Maxwell Sherwood,” he answered coolly.

A moment of silence greeted him before she responded. “I take it this isn’t a call to catch up.”

“The only thing I’d like to catch up on is the money you and Story stole.” He waited for the woman’s denial of Story’s involvement. If she backed up Story’s claims of innocence, he’d send her home as she wanted and still pay her tuition to make his behavior up to her. Nothing would ever recover her lost virginity. Of course, it hadn’t meant that much to her in the first place. She’d given it up in the name of money. “You have nothing to say on your behalf? On Story’s?” he added.

“What do you want me to say, Maxwell? I did what needed to be done.”

“And Story? Why did she do it?”

“Take money?”

The uncertainty in her voice annoyed him. “What are we discussing, Barbra?” he snapped. “Yes, take the goddamn money.”

“Who says she did?”

Actually… “No one,” he admitted. “It’s an assumption since you two are close.”

“I see.” She offered nothing more.

“I’m asking you point-blank. Was Story involved?”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms of my condo. Why?”

“I’m her mother and I’m concerned about her. Why else would I ask?”

“According to her, she asked you for a ticket home.”

“She did, but I don’t have any money to send to her. She got there. She needs to get home the same way.”

“Do you know why she’s here?”

“What is this?” Barbra huffed. “Twenty questions? Yes, she’s there to make money in the adult entertainment industry. I encouraged her to see how it goes. She could do worse than fucking you.”

Why had he called this woman again? Yes. Right. He thought he’d make sense of this entire situation. He should’ve known better. Barbra was as out there as ever, all about money and pleasure. For as long as he lived, he’d remember her throwing Story at him on her 16
th
birthday.

“Books are fine. Education is wonderful, but neither gives her life experience. How can she learn about men if she’s never around anyone but Winston? I don’t know how to teach her, and your dad was the closest she’d ever come to a real father figure. What am I supposed to do but encourage her to live a little?”

Max hadn’t called for this. Barbra’s words would draw him in deeper into Story’s life. He didn’t like Barbra’s approach, and he never had. The woman was the antithesis of the helicopter mom. Instead of hovering over Story, she pushed her into bad decisions. “Did Story have anything to do with the embezzlement?” The vital information and the reason he called.

“You tell me,” she challenged. “You’re one of the great Winston Sherwood’s sons, a prince of fortune. What does your gut tell you?”

That she was innocent. That Barbra was insane and Story dealt with the fallout from her mother’s shenanigans as best she could. But instinct had failed him once before and he’d sworn never to get close enough to a woman where he cared what his gut told him.

Where he cared, period.

Max scrubbed a hand over his face. “My gut?” he scoffed. “I’m going by what your daughter claims. Story says she’s innocent but she’s in debt.”

“That’s not what I asked. Of course she’ll say she’s innocent. Who admits to guilt unless they’re a fool? What do you believe? Or, maybe, the fact that she’s there with you is my answer. If you thought her guilty, you couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. You’d throw her and I in jail.”

“Wrong. If I thought her innocent, I would’ve sent her back home and forgotten she existed.”
Wrong.
After that first taste of her and before hearing how little she wanted to do this, he would’ve found another reason to keep her with him, until he tired of fucking her.

“Maxwell, listen to me,” Barbra said in a softer tone. “I’m going about this all wrong, but she needs someone. Someone to rescue her. Someone to protect her. You can do that. She’s sinking here in Dallas, weighted by my bad judgment.”

“Enough!” Max couldn’t listen to anymore. It reminded him of how angry he’d gotten earlier when they’d compared Story’s and Greta’s pussies. The fact that Ryker had a prime view of Story’s cunt had Max almost insane. And, yet, the world would soon be quite acquainted with how her pussy looked. With her facial expressions as she came. The small, sweet sighs she made as he fucked her, however, would be his alone. Because their movie needed louder, coarser sounds. “Tell me now. If she had nothing to do with your schemes, I’m sending her home. I don’t want her here and I don’t need her here. If she’s guilty, then she stays and repays me however I see fit. Or she goes to jail.”

“Why did you call me? Your mind’s already made up.”

He’d called because…because he was a gullible, stupid jackass. Story’s mood had gotten to him and he’d wanted to help her. To keep her, he needed justification to ignore her feelings and treat her as he’d treated every woman in his life, since his wife. To send her away, he needed to rationalize that, too.

“If you have to hear the words in no uncertain terms, Story is guilty,” Barbra spat out.

Mac sucked in a breath, disappointment colliding with his sense of betrayal.

“We split the money I stole between us. However, I could be lying. If so, why would I? Figure it out, asshole,” she challenged, and hung up.

One towel around her head and another towel around her body, Story made her way to the bedroom and jumped ten feet into the air at the sight of Max sitting on edge of the blue chaise lounge, arms folded. The red hue beneath his tanned skin, along with his hard features, tight lips, and narrowed eyes, concerned her. She knew an angry man when she saw one, and judging by his expression, he was fuming.

“I know everything,” he started.

Stiffening her spine so she wouldn’t shrink away, she rocked back on her heels, clueless to his meaning. “So you’ve always said. One day you’ll discover that isn’t accurate.”

“Your fucking games are over, Story. I spoke to Barbra.”

“My mother?” she squeaked in surprise. Max had never understood her mom’s unique way of looking at the world. Clearing her throat, she glanced at the queen-sized bed, to calm her nerves. Once she got her thoughts in order, she refocused on Max. “Are you angry because she gave me her blessings to work for you? She gave me the contact information.”

He laughed without humor. “I’m angry because you’re a lying, scheming little cunt.”

His words stung her and she stumbled back, as if he’d physically hit her before she narrowed her eyes.

“Get out of here, Max,” she demanded, her temper rising at his harsh words.

“This is my fucking house. You can’t throw me out of any part of it.”

“True, but I can refuse to listen to you if you’re going to call me names.” She had a few choice ones to throw at him. Since tit-for-tat would get them nowhere, she’d retreat back to the bathroom.

After two steps, he caught up to her and yanked her around. “She told me that the two of you split my father’s money between you, so cut the bullshit, innocent act. I almost felt sorry for you. Almost regretted that you saw me with Vista after I took your innocence, but you deserved everything I handed to you and more.”

The ringing of Story’s ears tuned out the rest of Max’s words. By the movement of his mouth, she knew he continued hurling accusations her way. But she wasn’t listening. She felt cold inside, as if all her blood had drained from her body. Her mother wouldn’t,
couldn’t…
Babs could use some parenting tips but she wouldn’t tell such a monumental lie on Story.

“Let go of me!” she screeched, jerking out of Max’s grasp so hard her towel loosened and flew open. Fingers trembling, she tightened the terrycloth around her again. Blindly, she went to her cellphone and dialed her mother’s number, absently noting those low minutes.

“What do you want now?” Babs answered.

Story clicked on the speakerphone. “Tell Max the truth, Mom.”

“She already has,” Max scoffed.

“He’s right,” Babs said. “I already have.”

“Mom!” Story gasped. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t steal Winston’s money. You did! We had this conversation this morning where you admitted it because he wouldn’t rent a country.”

“Rent a country.” Max snorted. “That’s the most fucked up, ludicrous excuse I’ve ever heard,” he sneered. “I thought you were more creative.”

“And I thought you were less of an asshole,” she snarled, her hand shaking as she tightened the hold on her phone. “Mom, don’t do this. Don’t lie on me.”