Breaking Hollywood
Page 25

I’ve never met a woman like her before. She’s totally comfortable with who she is. She doesn’t care that she talks too much. Or that she’s quirky. She’s not constantly worrying about how she looks or fixing her hair and makeup all the time.
She’s sweet and kind, and the way she loves that goat…I swear, that thing is lucky as fuck.
And the goat’s even growing on me. I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I think I’m going soft.
Not that I’d ever admit that to Speedy—or the goat.
I like having them here, which isn’t something I thought I would ever say about anyone—ever.
I spend nearly every minute of the day with Speedy, and I never get bored of her company. Not once.
I can’t even spend this much time around Tate without wanting to strangle him.
I’ve always been the kind of guy who needs his own space, but with her…I don’t want to be away from her for longer than necessary.
And the urge to sink my cock deep into her body is stronger than ever. The more I get to know her, the more I want her.
I swear, it’s taking a lion’s strength not to grab her and kiss the hell out of her.
It’s all I think about. Kissing her, tasting her, licking every inch of her skin, watching her come apart in my arms.
In my head, I’ve fucked her in a hundred different ways on every surface of my apartment.
If only I could fuck her for real.
But she’s my employee. And I just can’t do it.
Aside from feeding me amazing food—I swear, I’m going to have to hit the gym so hard when this boot comes off—and taking care of me—helping me out of the bath, and she gave me a shave the other day with an electric, as there was no way I was letting her near me with a wet razor—she’s been running lines with me every day.
But I keep avoiding the sex scene in the script. Because, honestly, I don’t know if I’ll be able to distinguish fact from fiction if we do read that scene together. And I’ve never had that problem before, but with her…it’ll be a problem. Thank God my PA, Donna, is back from vacation, which means I can get her to run those lines with me when I need her to.
I’m so pent-up with wanting Speedy. I know, if I get anywhere close to acting out a sex scene with her, even with words, I’ll blow like a fucking pressure cooker.
And I don’t like feeling out of control. The way she makes me feel, it’s confusing and not something I’m used to.
I’m always in control. Even in the past, when people might have thought I wasn’t, I was.
I’ve never jerked off as much as I have been with Speedy living under my roof. First thing in the morning. Then, another around lunchtime after watching her sexy ass strut around the apartment all morning. Then, once more right when I’m lying in bed, thinking about her sleeping just down the hall.
And, if it’s a day when she’s been in the pool…well, I have to add an extra jerk in because those tits in a bikini…holy fuck. I’ve never seen anything like them. It’s like they have a life of their own, and their sole purpose is to taunt me.
The instant I see her in her bikini, water dripping from her skin and those perky tits with the nipples saluting me from the confines of the fabric, my cock stands to full attention, raring to go.
I jerk off so much that I’m getting chafing burns. And I haven’t had those since I was a teenager after I discovered online porn.
And, yes, I’m using lube. That’s how hard I’m going at it.
The worse thing is, I can jack off till the cows come home, but it’s not going to fix anything.
I still want to fuck her.
So, I either fuck Speedy or fuck someone else.
And I can’t have sex with her because I pay her a wage.
And the thought of having sex with someone else just doesn’t appeal to me anymore, which is odd in itself. Because that’s never happened to me before.
It’s either Speedy or no one.
“Hey.” She appears in my doorway to check on me before bed, like she has every night since she’s been here.
“Hey.” I smile.
She’s standing there, her hair up in one of those messy buns with loose strands falling around her face, which is free of makeup, as she’s ready for bed. She’s wearing that damn tank and tiny shorts set that she likes to torture me with. She’s got a bra on though, so no nipples show for me tonight.
“Whatcha watching?” She nods in the direction of the TV.
“The Godfather.” It’s showing on Netflix, and it’d be rude not to watch it. Not that I’ve been paying much attention since it started, as my mind has been fixated on that gorgeous creature standing in my doorway.
“Is it good?”
“You’ve never seen it?”
She shakes her head.
“How is that even possible?” I stare at her, wide-eyed.
“I don’t know. I’ve just never gotten around to watching it.”
“One of the greatest films of all time, and you’ve never seen it. And you work in the movie industry.”
“Did work.”
“You work for me. I’m an actor. You still work in the movie industry.” Like I need to remind myself that she works for me.
“Fine, fine.” She steps a little further into my room. “It’s not that I don’t like gangster movies; they’re just not at the top of my list.”
“Don’t tell me; chick flicks are your favorite.”
She huffs at me. “Stereotype much? Actually, I love horror movies and comedies. And haven’t you starred in a bunch of chick flicks? Pot, kettle black.”
“Touché.” I grin. “So, horror movies, huh?”
“Yeah. Like the old-school Freddy Krueger, Jason, Hellraiser movies. I love them.”
Just when I think I have her all figured out, she throws me a curveball, and it makes me just want her all the more.
“You’re weird. You know that, right?”
“Oh, yeah, I totally know.” She smiles.
“Well, weirdo, come and sit your ass down.” I pat the space on the bed next to me. “And let me educate you in the greatness that is the Godfather movies.”
Her lips lift at the corners, and then she pads across the room. Coming around to the other side of the bed, she climbs up and sits back against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her.
Okay, so maybe inviting her onto my bed wasn’t the best idea. Because, now, I’ve got the scent of apples filling my nose, and those smooth, silky bare legs are right in my line of sight.
Torture, sheer torture.
I need a distraction.
“Where’s Gucci?” I ask.
“She’s just in the kitchen, having a late-night snack.”
Only her goat would be having a late-night snack.
“You wanna get her?”
She turns her head and looks at me. There’s a warmth in her eyes that makes me feel weightless for a moment.
“You sure?”
“At least, if she’s in here, then I can keep an eye on her.”
She smiles, like she’s onto me, and then calls for Gucci.
The goat appears seconds later, running straight into my bedroom and up onto the bed. She flops down at Speedy’s feet, laying her head on them.
I stare down at the goat. “Um, Speedy?”
“Do you want me to move her off the bed?”
“No, she’s fine,” I say. I’m clearly going soft in my old age. “And I don’t even know why I’m asking this because I’ll probably get a stupid answer in response…but what the fuck is Gucci wearing?”
She sits up, beaming. “Oh, pajamas. I found them on Amazon. Aren’t they just the cutest?”
“No. She looks fucking ridiculous.” I zero in on them. “Are those…strawberries on them?”
“And little pink flowers. I thought they were super cute, and she seems to love them.”
“You do actually realize that she’s a fucking goat. She has a built-in coat. Therefore, she doesn’t need pajamas to sleep in.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “So? I don’t need pajamas to sleep in, but I still wear them.”