Bootycall Read online

  “Don’t hold back,” I whisper into her ear, lashing at her earlobe, “we’re only just getting started.”

  I turn the dial up a little more, and press the button which cools off the water, turning the warm jets just cool enough to send shivers up her spine. Her moans get louder and more breathless as I reach down to her pussy, spreading her open as I press her further towards the jets, the cold bubbles exploding against the hotness of her body, until she’s screaming long and slow, orgasms flooding through her.

  I put my arms around her and squeeze, enjoying the way her body writhes with delight, holding my cock against her as her back arches tightly with each wail of gratification.

  “Fuck,” she screams, gaining just enough control of herself to turn her primal yells into something approaching language. “Oh my God.”

  I turn down the jets and soften my grip on her as her body-shaking orgasm morphs into a gentle throbbing of warmth inside her. She leans forward, resting her head on her arms as she catches her breath. I pull away to the other side of the hot tub, watching with a smile as the wild rolling of her back turns into a rhythm of soft panting.

  I grab my cock, still rock-hard, and massage it softly as I study her body with hungry lust again. She turns around and leans back against the edge of the tub, throwing her head back to face the sky and laugh exhaustedly. She puts a hand in her hair to steady herself.

  “You’re amazing,” she gasps, a grin on her face like she just won the lottery. “I’ve never…done anything like that before.”

  “Well I’ve never fucked a body like yours before.”

  “Technically, you still haven’t fucked me.”

  “That’s not a technicality, that’s an inevitability.”

  She laughs a little, throwing her head back like she’s still experiencing the aftershocks.

  “I’m sure that you’ve had plenty of beautiful women. Movie stars, models…I mean, you can take your pick, right?”

  “Maybe,” I nod. “But I tend to make bad decisions – and the worst ones usually involve women.”

  She flashes her teeth at me. “Does that include me?”

  “It could still go either way.”

  She sweeps her hand through the water as she laughs. “Weren’t you screwing that actress? The one voted the hottest woman on the planet?”

  I shake my head and focus my eyes on hers.

  “Let me tell you something about the women of Hollywood,” I say, getting low with my voice for a moment, “and about what I learned fucking my way through all the movie stars and models. Those girls that look so hot on the screen? In the magazines? In real life, they’ve got nothing on a girl like you.”

  She shakes her head. “Come on…you think I’ll fall for that?”

  “I’m dead fucking serious. Once you get over the fact that none of them have asses, and that half of them have sold their souls to a plastic surgeon, while the other half spend three hours in make-up every day whether they’re doing a movie or not, you start to understand that there’s not much there except a lot of insecurity.”

  “I’m sure they’re not all like that.”

  “Even the ones that aren’t, there’s still something missing. When you make a living from knowing exactly how you come across, exactly what you look like to everyone who’ll ever meet you, manipulating your way through jobs and relationships, there’s little room for the mystery – and without the mystery, without the chase, there’s nothing.”

  She bows her head, looking up at me through the strands of wet, blonde hair that hang over her face.

  “See,” I say, “that. That right there. That little thing you do where you hide behind your hair and look at me like you’re half-scared, half-waiting. That’s sexy.”

  “I’m not…I just…” she stammers, getting a little red.

  I laugh. “That little ‘nervous’ thing, too.”

  She giggles and puts both hands over her face.

  “What am I doing!?” she screams through her laughter.

  “Whatever it is,” I say, “just keep doing it.”

  She takes her hands away from her face, and her eyes seem to have a new shine in them.

  She eyes me, rolling her eyes up and down my body. “Are you…holding your cock right now?”

  “Are you judging me?” I say.

  “No,” she says, drawing out the word and putting a little breath into it, “but I just wondered why you were jerking off…” she stands up, water trailing down her shoulders around her tits as she sets her hands on her hips, “…when I’m right here.”

  She steps up onto the edge of the hot tub and stands there, letting me fill my eyes again with the million perfections that make up her physique.

  “I have to admit,” I say, standing up out of the water myself, hand still wrapped around my cock, which is getting harder, not that it was ever in danger of going soft, “that you seem to have about as much of an appetite for fucking as I do.”

  She walks backwards, away from the hot tub, while I follow her slowly, a couple of feet behind, the better to take in the unparalleled view of her dripping, naked body.

  “I don’t think it’s an appetite for fucking that I have,” she murmurs, gently caressing her tits, “I think it’s an appetite for you.”

  “Well,” I say, stepping out of the hot tub, “it’s a good thing there’s a lot of me to go around.”

  “Do you think you’ve got enough to satisfy me?”

  She slides open the doors and spins into the bedroom, gazing back at me over her shoulder while she rubs her hand down her ass.

  “That depends,” I say, smiling. “How much can you take?”

  She giggles softly, drawing me to her with glimmering eyes and pouting lips as she backs away into the room.

  I step over to the side table, my eyes still fixed upon hers, and slide open the drawer I keep my condoms in. I let her watch me as I rip the packet apart and slide it on slowly, smiling when she licks her lips as I do it.

  Then I continue stepping towards her, slowly, letting the moment build a little, letting the electricity in the air between us start crackling and snapping with the aching tension within us. Two bodies filled with desire and heat, coming together to explode like stars in space.

  She backs away still, teasing me with her eyes, beckoning me with the small bounces of her breasts as she takes each step, until she’s up against the wall. I move in close as she flattens herself against it, her leg raised, the sole of her foot pushing against it, arms stretching out wide.

  “Nowhere left for you to go,” I say.

  “Who says I wanna go?”

  My hands wrap around her neck gently as I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth, curling around hers like a knot, licking the roof of her mouth, sucking every sweet drop of her feminine taste. I pull away just as she’s getting into it, holding her up against the wall when she tries to lean in, whimpering for me not to stop.

  With my hands still firmly around her hair and neck, I pull her around until she’s in front of the bed – she’s like butter in my hands – and then push her onto the low, soft sheets.

  She falls onto her front, giggling and purring, her body still wet from the hot tub and the pheromone-rich sweat of our previous play. She splays her arms and legs out, clawing and pulling at the sheets as she searches for some sensation to satisfy the lust flowing through her.

  I move over her mind-blowing body, kneeling on the bed as I get close. I know she can sense me even though her face is buried in the sheets, because I can hear her moans get shorter and more excited as I get close. I smack her ass, holding my hand there after I do so I can rub the short, sharp pain in a little, before I run my hand down the back of her leg.

  I smack her again, this time with both hands, and then I work them around her hips and pull her towards me, lifting her up onto all fours. She feels soft and easy under my grip, completely responsive to my commands, her flesh giving way under my firm hands – which is good, because I’m so fuck
ing hard I could break her if she wasn’t so pliable.

  “Take my dick,” I say, and she obediently responds, her arm reaching behind her for my thick shaft. I lick my way up the back of her neck to her ear, and with plenty of bass in my voice say: “Put it inside you.”

  I pull myself upright, stroking her sides with firm fingers as she guides my cock against the soft walls of her pussy, rolling my head against the wetness, her ass swaying from side to side as she starts to pull me inside, inch by agonizing inch, a low moan escaping from her.

  I can’t wait another second.

  Without warning I slam my cock all the way into her with all the violence and aggression of a train crash, my dick so hard it takes her body over like a second spine.

  “Yes,” she gasps as I thrust, turning me on even more with her harsh exhalations.

  “Damn,” I pant, as I work a little swing into my hips. “You’ve got a sweet pussy.”

  She moans again, loud and low, as I grab her hair, pulling her up against me, urging her to let me in deeper and harder, compelling her not to resist the stiff tremors that are radiating from within her.

  “Oh God,” she wails, as if the ramming of my cock is pushing the words out of her. “Fuck me. Yes. God, yes. Give it to me.”

  It sounds like a plea, like she’s begging for her life, and I’m loving every word coming out of that dirty mouth of hers. I duly oblige, thrusting the sizzling length of my cock inside her with the passion of a savage, smacking her flawless ass just to see it jiggle against my hips.

  “That’s perfect,” I encourage her. “That’s just how I like it. Can you feel how much I like it? Can you feel how fucking hard you’re making me?”

  “Yeah,” she pants, and I can feel her pussy tightening around me. “Oh Dylan, oh my God,” she cries, her voice shivering in rhythm to the jackhammer thrust of my hips. She lets out a low wail and then tightens up even more. “Fuck, I’m coming. Harder. Don’t stop.”

  She gasps for breath and I can smell the juices flowing from inside her; feel the hotness of her sex shuddering in orgasm along the lines of my cock. All of my senses centralize around my dick inside her, my entire being becoming the hot pressure built up in my balls, ready to break free.

  “Hold on just a little more for me, girl. I want to make this good.”

  I lean forward over her as my rhythmic lunges turn into one long press, my dick burying itself in her as far as it’ll go. I bite her neck and let the essence explode out of me, and she groans long and low once again as the heat of our juices merges. I squeeze her against me, a low rumble emerging from my throat, our moans of bliss mixing like music.

  “Good God…your body…” I say, panting wildly.

  This is it. This is the kind of fucking I’ve needed for a long time.

  As the last of our fatigued breaths and hums of post-orgasmic warmth die away, I roll to the side and pull off the condom, tying the end into a knot. I walk to the bathroom on what feels like air, every fiber of my body buzzing gently like a low-pitched tuning fork. I toss the condom out and return to the room, a wickedly satisfying numbness still tickling my spine – the kind of high you can’t get from booze, drugs, or even being an international movie star.

  I drop my body onto the bed beside her, smiling as I notice the soft sheets feel even softer, the gentle breeze that’s wafting in from the open terrace doors feels even more refreshing, and the white glow of this girl’s back seems even more beautiful.

  “I still don’t know your name,” I mumble, quietly, as my eyes close.

  “You know,” she whispers happily, on the precipice of falling asleep herself, “neither do I right now.”

  Chapter 4

  Dylan

  “Dylan,” says a masculine voice that is most definitely not the blonde girl from last night. Either it’s someone else, or I’ve made a big mistake.

  I open my eyes and see that I’m alone in bed, but over in the corner of my room, standing by the door, is a tall, wide man in a uniform.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I say, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I get out of bed and realize that I’m stark naked.

  “I’m your driver,” he replies, with a monotone that shows he’s about as unconcerned with my nakedness as I am. “And you have a meeting, sir.”

  I look around the room in mock-surprise. “Well I don’t see a car in my room, so why the fuck are you in here?”

  “They told me that you’d probably still be in bed, and that I should do whatever it takes to bring you.”

  I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “Bastards. Did they tell you I’d have a fucking hangover and be buck-ass naked as well?”

  His brow furrows. “Actually…yes.”

  I search his detached eyes for a hint of humor, and when I can’t find it, realize that they probably did.

  “Fair enough. Let me shower at least.”

  Twenty minutes later I’m sitting in the back seat of the tinted-window Mercedes and flipping through the script that was left there for me.

  Larry wasn’t lying. It’s good. It’s really good. An action-packed sci-fi thriller in which a man on an outlying colony planet goes out of his mind searching for his missing brother, while trying to fight the feelings he’s developing for his brother’s wife. It’s a glory of self-destruction and psychological pain. No wonder they chose me.

  I toss the script aside and turn to look out of the window, feelings swelling inside of me like a long-dormant volcano.

  Eventually, the car smoothly stops and seconds later the brick wall otherwise known as my driver opens the door.

  “We’re here now, Mr. Marlowe.”

  I grab the script and step out. We’re outside a high rise office building that looks like it’s made entirely of gleaming black granite and glass.

  I make my way through the entrance where another uniformed man opens the door for me, and then into the elevator, where another uniform presses a button for me. “Welcome back to first-class,” I mumble to myself.

  The elevator opens and I step out into a corridor.

  “Dylan!” calls Larry, as he jogs over towards me. As smart and as influential as Larry is, he dresses like a clown. Tight pants, red suspenders over a loose-fitting shirt, and horn-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain around his neck. You’d think he was an agent for a thirties barbershop tribute act – scratch that, you’d think he was in one.

  “You’re late. Really late,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me along the corridor. “But it’s ok, because I knew you would be, and I’ve been making excuses. It was short notice after all—”

  “Why are you here again? You told me I was ‘on my own,’ remember?”

  Larry nods and sighs. “Truth is, after we got off the phone I was up all night worrying about this. ‘Is he even going to show up?’ ‘Will he make a scene?’ I slept for about ten minutes and had a dream that you tried to hit someone and thought, ‘Fuck it, I’m going.’”

  “Well I’d say I appreciate it, but I’m not sure I like the implication. It was good of you to cover for me, though.” The truth is, I obviously needed the covering. But I won’t let him say ‘I told you so.’

  “I never do this, Dylan,” he says, reaching for the handle of a door. “Agents in meetings like this make people think it’s all about money, which is never good. But this movie needs to happen, for your sake.”

  Larry opens the door and I step past him into a large meeting room in the corner of the building, glass windows covering two of the four large walls and offering a panoramic view of green hills and traffic-clogged freeways lined with palm trees. Sitting around the gigantic table are four people. Two men and two women. They stand up as I enter, each offering their hands. I put on a boy scout smile and do the presidential thing.

  “Michael Colback. I’m assistant to the head of the financial department that’s working on this.”

  “Dylan Marlowe. Nice to meet you.”

  “Veronica Brujo. I’m a prod
ucer.” She’s all white teeth and full lips. I like.

  “Very nice to meet you.”

  “Jason Murray. I’m an executive producer.”

  “How are you?”

  “And I’m Hannah Wiseman. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Marlowe.” She’s older, but sleek as a shark in a dark suit and severe bun.

  “Call me Dylan. Only my maid calls me Mr. Marlowe – even though I tell her not to.”

  They laugh. Easy crowd. I settle down, feeling the familiar mix of anticipation that comes from a new project, and abject boredom at having to go through these kinds of meetings in the first place.

  “Where’s Mr. West?” I ask.

  Jason looks at Hannah nervously before answering. “He should have just landed in LA. He might be running a little late.”

  “Well I guess that makes me look a lot better,” I grin, and the suits opposite me exchange nervous glances.

  “Have you seen the script yet?” Veronica asks. She’s about as tidy a woman as you can get. Black hair cut in a bob that’s so precise you could measure atoms with it, and a suit so prim and tight it’s like she tailored her body to fit it rather than the other way around.

  “I have seen the script,” I say, after gulping some water straight from the bottle, “and I have to say that Veronica is a really beautiful name. One of my favorites, in fact.”

  Larry jabs a sharp elbow into my side.

  “Sorry,” I say, when I see the frown lines on his forehead, “yeah, I read the script. It’s good. I like it. Strong arc for the lead, solid supporting roles, a mystery to unravel. It’s great.”

  “Do you have any questions about it? Any reservations about the project?” Michael asks.

  I purse my lips and look up in an exaggerated gesture of thought.

  “I think…I think it’s better for the movie if we don’t stick to the script too rigidly in places. Or at least, not with my character.”

  The four suits look at each other like they’re figuring out who farted for a full five seconds. Larry leans over towards me and whispers: “What the hell are you doing, Dylan?”