Dirty Boy (23 page)

Another moment passed before some of her tension deflated and she straightened. “What happens if I only want to do scenes with you for the duration of the contract?”

He liked that idea, despite the implausibility. He’d already tweaked the script. He also had other projects to prepare for once they wrapped up. Enough annoyances plagued the set without having her demands to contend with.

He glanced away from the hope in her eyes. He was subjecting her to a lot, when all she wanted was money for school. Although she wouldn’t say it or admit it to him or herself, she was unhappy. If he would’ve believed Barbra’s claims of Story’s innocence, then he had to believe the woman’s proclamation of guilt, without her fucking riddles.

Yet, what the fuck did it matter in terms of money? They certainly fucking had it to spare. It hadn’t hurt a fucking thing. His father had paid bigger divorce settlements than the quarter million dollars Barbra and Story had embezzled. Supposedly embezzled. Unless Story had suddenly become a reckless spendthrift, one hundred twenty-five grand would’ve been enough to pay her tuition for several years. She wouldn’t have to subject herself to his lifestyle, if she had that money, when she clearly didn’t enjoy it.

The principle mattered, though. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. The emotional toll it had taken on his dad
mattered
.

“Come here,” he demanded, holding his hand out to Ryker.

“Give me a fucking break,” Eric yelled. “You do this and we’re fucking up the entire script.”

Max squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers and wrapped his hand around Story’s neck, dragging her closer. He kissed along her shoulder as he inserted two fingers into her ass, circling the tight rim. Standing, he pushed her forward, aligning his front to her back, his hand still in her ass, his arm still around her throat.

He breathed in her scent, shampoo, soap, and arousal. He pressed his erection against her, his head fogged with jealousy, relief, possession, alcohol and drugs. Moving his arm to her waist, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

“On your hands and knees,” he instructed as he removed his robe, signaling everyone to get into place.

Eric looked less than pleased. Dominic went to Vista to give him relief and Ryker motioned for one of the grips to adjust the lighting.

Max greased his cock, eager to sink into Story. She looked so fucking sexy, on all fours, ass in the air.

Advancing toward the bed, he ignored the look in her eye. The one that called to him. Offered companionship. Didn’t judge him.

His nostrils flared and he slid next to her, pulling a nipple into his mouth as he pushed her legs open and stroked her clit. Vaguely, he wondered if he was desensitizing her to sex, turning her desire into a cold, meaningless tool. She was so passionate, so hot and
real
.

Instead of kissing her the way she enjoyed, he’d keep it impersonal. She was getting into his psyche, affecting his thoughts and beliefs.

“I want to hear you,” he told her. “Tell me how much you enjoy fucking me, so we can do one and done.”

When Addie had been on set, she’d made enough noise for both of them. If Story didn’t cooperate, the scene would go to shit.

He slid down her body and inserted himself between her legs.

“Feet by your ears,” he instructed. “We need good pussy shots.”

She tensed, but complied. His own tension rose. Every motherfucker here would see her pretty cunt. He wanted to hit something. Growling in frustration, he settled his hands on her thighs to keep them in place and buried his face against her pussy, dipping his tongue into her hole and twirling. He licked her clit, her outer lips, her asshole, before focusing on her clit again, enjoying her scent and her taste, drinking her flowing cream.

She was talking and moaning, but the sounds didn’t matter. On set, he’d learned to tune them out. It was a necessary part of the job, as meaningless as the fucking.

He lifted to his knees and sank into her, setting her ankles on his shoulders. A look of pain crossed her face, silencing her. Max stilled. He was so deep inside of her. He wanted to give her a moment to adjust.

“Ready, baby?” he asked.

She tensed, her pussy squeezing his cock.

“Don’t,” he warned. “It’ll fucking hurt worse if you’re so rigid.”

“I’m trying to brace myself.”

“Unclench your muscles,” he demanded. “Or this scene is shot to fuck and we have to start it over.”

For a moment, he thought she’d cry, but she drew in a deep breath and nodded.

Pounding into her, he gave a coarse groan. “Your cunt belongs to me, you little slut.”

Normally, the dialogue didn’t matter to him. As sex was sex, words were words, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck. The women he fucked had been in the business long enough to have hardened themselves and to understand the fakery. Talking to Story in such a crude manner, however, fucked with him. Because it fucked with her. He saw the hurt in her eyes.

Fuck, he needed to get through this scene and get the fuck away from her. This was his business and he’d worked hard to build it up.

“You’re my slut, Shelby.” He slammed into Story and he willed her to respond the way she needed to. “You’re a dirty girl with a dirty pussy.”

Story licked her lips and moaned. “My pussy belongs to you, Will,” she recited.

His brutal thrusts and her heated words sent him over the edge. Pulling out of her, he spurted his cum onto her tits, then fell back, vaguely hearing Eric’s happy voice.

Story stared at the ceiling and swiped at her cheeks.

Guilt hit Max. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

She wasn’t, but if he tried to comfort her, she’d reject him, so he did the only thing he could.

“You’re off for the next two days. You aren’t needed on the set.”

She remained silent for a heartbeat, then she sniffled. “Will you be here?”

“I have scenes with other women.”

“Oh.”

He felt as if he should apologize…FUCK NO! Then, she’d get the upperhand. She’d win.

“Hate me all you want,” he sneered. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“I don’t hate you, Max,” she said softly.

“Not yet,” he snapped back, then stalked away.

Once upon a time, Kayleigh hadn’t hated him either.

Addie Reynolds frowned at the sound of her ringing doorbell. She wasn’t expecting anyone this evening and had intended to use this down time to unwind. From time-to-time, she needed to remember her roots. No matter how hard it was beginning to be to stay in the business, she’d chosen this life. She needed to make as much money as she could and leave the industry.

“Who is it?” she called, always a little leery about opening her door. The bogeyman might’ve caught up to her.

“Max.”

“Max Sherwood?” she asked in confusion, definitely not expecting him.

“Yes, Addie,” he snapped with impatience. “Open the fucking door.”

Huffing, Addie unbolted the deadlock, opened the door a fraction before verifying his identity, then slid the chain lock off. She stepped aside so he could enter.

God, the man was just too beautiful for words. His blue eyes took her in from head to toe. Instead of squirming like a kid, she kept her carefree smile in place, pretending she wasn’t mortified that he’d see her without makeup. Possibly see the tiny scar beneath her eye.

He held out a bottle of champagne. “For us to enjoy before we fuck each other’s brains out,” he announced, sauntering past her and heading to her living room.

Addie locked the door and rushed after him, skidding to a halt when she saw him go to her bar, set the bottle down and then find two champagne glasses.

“Remind me how much money you’ve put into my house?” she asked, annoyed at his attitude.

He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. She popped her lips, rocking on her heels. The man was her boss. She’d already fucked him with vigor. It wasn’t her place to turn him down now. Story’s face rose in her head, and Addie held back a groan. Knowing how Story felt about Max would go against the girl-code if Addie slept with him outside of business.

She’d done what she could on her behalf, so Max could open his eyes. Maybe, her methods hadn’t been the best, but it was all she had to work with.

“If you don’t want me here, tell me.”

“I don’t want you here, Max,” she said.

His shoulders slumped and the arrogant mask fell away for the briefest of moments.

“Fine,” he said tightly, setting the glasses down and grabbing the bottle. He brushed past her.

Addie should let him leave, but, maybe, like her, he needed someone who’d listen to him.

She tightened the belt on her robe, aware that was all she wore. “Wait, Max. I’m sorry. You just surprised me.” She indicated the sofa. “Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

Appeased, he redirected his steps to take a seat. Addie hurried and got the champagne glasses he’d set on the bar, then brought them to him.

He indicated the coffee table. “I’ll pour.”

Nodding, Addie sat next to him, deciding he’d want her there. He handed her the glass. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” he said, and leaned back with his own glass. He sipped. “Was I interrupting anything?”

She rolled her eyes, tension stiffening her muscles. She knew Max, she reminded herself. “Fine time for you to ask,” she retorted with a giggle.

He tangled his hand through her hair and pulled her close, kissing her mouth.

Addie really liked Max, and could become really attached to him, just as she’d told Story. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start an affair with him and lose it all. She wouldn’t have him and she doubted she’d have a job with his company in the aftermath. Besides, she’d already fucked Ryker, partly for drugs and partly because she liked him, too. She’d slept with Eric because he’d threatened to fire her if she didn’t.

Sighing, she pulled away and leaned her forehead against his. “What about Story?”

Max scowled. “What about her?”

“I-I was hoping we could be friends. If I fuck you and she finds out, she’ll be hurt.”

“I dropped her off at my place and then headed out. Not that this is your business.”

The anger lighting his eyes made her flinch. At any minute, she expected him to hit her. Guilt washed through her. From the time she’d spent with him, Max didn’t seem to be an abuser. She’d heard the rumors, though. Seen the photos of his beaten wife.

What is wrong with you?
If she was so concerned, she shouldn’t have let him in.

She swallowed half the contents of her glass before squirming away and getting to her feet. She couldn’t…it was too much. She had to keep it all in perspective. There was only one way to do that. “Excuse me.”

Setting her glass down, she rushed to her room and got her coke and a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet. Going into her bathroom, she gripped the items to her chest and stared at herself in the mirror. Minus the makeup, she could be any ordinary girl with a drug problem. No one knew about her poor childhood or the abuse that had ran her away. No one knew she always chose assholes for boyfriends, that she was currently single because her last guy demanded she fuck all of his friends because they’d always wanted to be with a porn star. She hadn’t gotten away from three of the guys, but had somehow managed to escape the other seven.

Max Sherwood certainly knew none of that. None of the Sherwood boys knew.

Laying the line, she hurriedly snorted, then wiped away the small amount of blood that leaked from her nose and leaned against the counter, her heart pounding. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up Od’ing.

She stared at herself in the mirror again, and thrust her breasts out, then practiced her smiles, finally choosing a happy, carefree one. Turning, she marched into her bedroom and almost jumped out of her skin at seeing Max leaning against the dresser.

“You scared me!” she accused.

“You were taking too long,” Max said lazily, then frowned at her. “Getting high.”

“Yep.”

“If you have to do lines to fuck me, I don’t want you.”

“Oh, Max, it isn’t you,” she said playfully. “Blow makes me feel good. You should try some. We could have a druggie fuck fest.”

“What about Story?” he tossed at her.

She pursed her mouth. “I guess I won’t pursue a friendship with her.”

“Story needs a friend.” He folded his arms. “From what I see, you do as well.”

“I do,” she whispered. “Don’t we all?”

“Yes. I have a good friend. Kelan. You’d like him.”

Addie sat on the edge of her bed. “It helps to like the men I fuck.”

“Suppose I set you up on a date? Not for a fuck. Just for a nice time. We all need those, too.”

Her smile felt frozen on her face. “Once he figured out who I was, he’d only want to fuck me. Nothing more. Isn’t that all you want from me? Pussy?”

“What do you want from me but dick and money? You know I’m wealthy with or without my company. You’ve already fucked me. There’s not much else women want.”

“Money doesn’t matter to me, Max. I’ve made my own. I want kindness.” Dropping the façade, she offered him a sad smile. “Shouldn’t you want the same? Story is ready to open her heart to you, if you just do the same.”

Max shoved his hands in his pockets and paced. “I wanted her to find out I’d slept with another woman. You were the logical choice to make that happen,” he admitted. “I want to push her away.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yet, I want to draw her close and never let her go.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Fuck no. I didn’t come here to talk to
you
about it but you keep throwing her in my face. You want to be her friend. As her friend, I’m telling you I’m no good for her. I don’t trust women.”

“But you trust
her
,” Addie insisted. “You see a future with her.”

“The fuck I do. She’s like every other woman outside of the business. She wants me to retire. She hasn’t said it yet, but she will eventually.”

“What compelled you to do what you’re doing?”

He shrugged. “Getting paid to fuck is my dream come true.”

“You don’t need to
be
paid for anything. You’re super-duper wealthy. If I had that type of money, I certainly wouldn’t be doing this.”

“It fascinated me how adult entertainers live on the fringes of society yet I could pay someone to wipe my ass if I desired and live off the money my grandfather made and my father increased. Be a moocher. No one would say a goddamn thing. Does it matter why we fuck for a living? We’re earning our own way, on our own terms.”

“Spoken like a true rich boy,” she said with genuine laughter, then cleared her throat at his glare. “You’ve made your point to the world. Give it up now. Find happiness.”

“No. That’s what
she
wants me to do,” he snarled.

“Story…”

“Not Story,” he snapped. “That cunt I married.
Kayleigh
.” The word fell from his mouth with so much anger and venom that Addie forgot what else she might’ve said. “That bitch killed my son because she fucking lied to me and told me she’d be fine with my career. If I give it up now, she wins.”

“She’s dead, Max,” Addie said gently. “Let her go. Live your life.”

He turned to her, opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut.

“Does Story know why you got into porn?”

“No,” he clipped out.

“I think you should explain this to her. She might have some advice to give you. I shouldn’t know more about you than she does.”

He studied her again, with that singular concentration that made her feel desired and exposed. “Get dressed. I want Kelan to meet you,” he said and started for the door, pulling out his cell phone.

“But—”

“That isn’t a request, Addie. That’s an order,” he said and left her alone to follow his instructions.

“Kelan, meet Addie. Addie, this is Kelan, my best friend and the biggest asshole you’ll ever find,” Max introduced an hour later as he stood in Kelan’s living room.

“Besides you?” Kelan returned, unable to take his eyes from Addie.

Max hadn’t spoken to Story since he’d left her in bed after the scene earlier that day. Not even on the ride home. Her soft
I don’t hate you
continued to ring in his ears, as if she’d shouted the words to him. Once he’d dropped her off, Max went out with the sole purpose of fucking another woman. He’d show Kayleigh she couldn’t rule him or pretend to win him over with her lies.

Of course she’d hate him…Fuck! Had he said Kayleigh? He meant Story. He’d wanted to show
Story
she didn’t control him. That he could fuck who he wanted when he wanted. He could’ve gone to Natalia but then Story might never know. After all, she couldn’t give two fucks about Nat. But Kayleigh and Addie had a rapport…

“FUCK!” he snarled, realizing he’d made the mistake again.

Addie jumped, while Kelan lifted a brow. “Problem, Max?”

“I
hate
that bitch.” He hated Kayleigh so much he wanted to destroy something. Anything. She’d fucking ruined him. Stomping to Kelan’s liquor table, Max grabbed the vodka, unscrewed the top and swigged from the bottle. “Fuck her.”

“I thought you only did that at my house,” Addie remarked. “Because I’m a female.”