Hollywood Holden: Los Angeles Bad Boys (10 page)

S
omething's off
when Holden returns to the patio.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Uh, yeah," he says, smiling, reaching for his beer.

"I didn't know you and your agent hung out, like, on the weekends."

"Trenton's a good guy."

"Seems like it." I twist my lip, trying to read him. The entire situation. "It feels like you're not saying something."

He shrugs, takes a swig. "I'm good. Great. You're here with me, Bexley. I've been trying to tell you that's all I want."

"All you want?"

"Is that too hard to believe?"

I shrug, not wanting to fight, but also not seeing how we could work beyond a fling. And if this is just a fling, do I need to press every single thing to the point of breaking?

"Hope you don't mind, but I thought we could meet up with some friends for drinks before we have dinner tonight," he says, surprising me. Again. I figured tonight would just be us.

"You want me to meet your friends already?"

"Well, yeah, I've been talking about you enough. They want to know who you are."

"No pressure," I say, laughing into my wine glass.

"There isn't. My friends are awesome."

"Tell me about them." I set down my glass, tuck my feet under me, cozying up beside him.

His eyes crinkle. "You may have heard of some of them. Cassius is Cash Flow, and his girl Evangeline—"

"Shit, Evie?" I ask, eyes wide.

"You're a fan?"

"Well, yeah," I tell him. As if isn't obvious? It should be. "She's gorgeous, and so talented. At the Grammys this year she looked like an angel. I mean, I downloaded her album on iTunes the moment it released."

"Yeah, she was crazy nervous. But man, her solo album is off the chains. Don't tell Cash, but I think Evie's is better."

I smile, agreeing. "Don't get me wrong, Cash Flow's music is so raw and emotional, but Evie is breathtaking."

"I met them last fall," Holden explains. "Evie actually moved in here, into my guest house. For like a month, before she met Cash."

"How did you meet her?" I immediately feel a flash of insecurity over someone that beautiful, that famous, living here.

"She's the cousin of my other buddy, Jude—you'll meet him tonight, too."

"And who's Jude? Let me guess? A model or a screenwriter?" I smile, enjoying this insight into Holden's personal life.

"Jude's a film maker. You may have heard of him? Jude McCall? He produced
Dead Bird Falling
?"

I purse my lips, trying to remember. "Is that the indie move that won all those awards at Sundance?"

"Yeah, it was big deal."

"I remember. I haven't seen it, though."

"Jude's the shit. He moved to LA to be an actor, but he's a few years older than us. We signed with Trenton at the same time. Anyway. Jude called bullshit on all the movies he auditioned for—including Johnny Jumper. That asshole auditioned for the part before me, got offered the fucking gig. Turned it down."

"Wow. Does he regret it, now that you've become such a success?"

Holden shakes his head, taking another drink of his beer. "Nah. The commercial thing isn't his scene."

I admire that about Jude, and I haven't even met him. When I used to think about coming to LA, it was never for the movies Holden makes. Though, looking around this gorgeous property, I know that way of thinking was a little naive. A blockbuster film pays the bills, in a big way.

So when are we meeting your crew?" I ask. "I should probably change."

"I can help you with that, if you want." He leans closer to me on the love seat, his finger running along the buttons of my blouse.

I lick my lips. "Right. This skirt might be tricky to get out of."

"I could always help you wash up first. You need a shower, bad."

"You're right, of course."

"I am?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm really dirty," I tell him, taking his hand and dragging it up my leg, under my skirt. I want him to feel that I skipped the panties again today. I want him to feel that I'm already getting wet with just the idea of he and I sharing an afternoon delight.

His fingers graze over my knee, up my thigh, moving higher until his fingers press against my bare mound.

"Oh fuck, girl," he groans, plunging a finger into my wet pussy.

"I need you to wash me nice and clean," I tell him, my hand moving over the growing bulge in his shorts. He's so hard for me, and I trace the outline of his hard cock as his finger traces the folds of my pussy, my wetness seeping as he runs his finger back and forth.

He doesn't wait any longer. He lifts me from the seat and his strong arms wrap around my waist.

"I'm gonna fuck you right now, and then I’ll wash you up, understood?"

"Mmmmm," I manage. "That sounds perfect." My mouth presses against his, our lips parted, our tongues entwined. My hips grind against him.

I want to feel how huge his cock is for me, so I unbutton his jeans and reach a hand down. I’m so desperate to feel it in my hand, his smooth-skinned cock that fills my pussy so well. He rips apart my blouse, buttons popping across the deck, his hands reaching for my tits like he needs them, immediately.

"Your tits are so fucking huge. Like melons. And they taste so fucking sweet, too," he tells me as he unclasps my bra, letting my breasts fall from the cups. He tries to palm them, but they're too big for him to hold with one hand. Instead he leans down, sucks on my hard nipple as I run my hand over his massive cock, up and down, stroking him nice and good out in the wide-open air. The sky is blue and the sun is warm, and no one is even remotely near us. It’s just Holden and me, stripping down and opening up.

Our relationship is shifting, growing. Becoming something carnal and real. Something tangible, something that could be more than a fling.

That idea terrifies me, but it also ignites a need for Holden to be closer to me,
in me
.

As if reading my mind, Holden speaks. "Turn around, baby," he tells me, and I do as he says.

He lifts my skirt. My bare ass is in his hands, and I lean against the bar next to us—stocked for his infamous pool parties, I'm sure.

But right now, I'm only thinking about the way my hands grip the counter, the way Holden runs his hands over my skin, his fingers traveling lower, to my wanting pussy.

I hear him roll on a condom, and then his cock is against me, thrusting into my tight pussy, and I move my feet apart, bending my ass toward him, so he can ease into me completely.

I'm coming within moments. "Oh my God, Holden, you feel so big."

"I am big, baby."

"But this ... this is so full. So ...." I can't speak. I can only moan.

He likes it like that. His cock is deep inside me, and one hand reaches to my breasts, massaging me. His other hand moves lower, circling my clit expertly. I lay my hand on top of his as he moves against my dripping pussy. It feels so good, and my back arches in pleasure as his hand and cock bring me to my limits.

I'm moaning—okay, at this point I'm full-on crying out—because he's pounding against me, hard, harder, harder. So hard I can't see or think. I can only feel.

He knows it, because he moves in and out, his fingers circling me faster, over and over again as I climax against him, pressing my body against his chest, hard, begging him to close his arms around me as I crash.

He does; his arms tighten around me as I come. He hasn't come yet, but he must sense that my pussy has been pounded as hard as I can possibly take. He pulls out of me, turning me around, but his raging hard-on is still begging to be satisfied. It's throbbing, needy, and I want my pussy to be its release.

Lifting me, he sets me on the counter then pulls me to him. His solid cock enters my soft pussy; my hands grip the counter, my butt balancing me, as my legs wrap around his waist. He pumps against me, and my tits are bouncing in his face, just the way he likes it. The salty sea air moves over us, and my erect nipples burn in the breeze.

"Fuck, girl," he groans, coming against me, hard, as he thrusts deeper.

"It feels so good, baby," I tell him, unable to restrain myself from his endearing term. I can't hold anything back at this point. Right now, I would give him anything.

My pussy grows warmer as his seed fills the condom, pressed inside me. I close my eyes, near tears at that amazing display of human prowess. Holden's cock could rule the world. It clearly rules my pussy.

He wraps his arms around me, tenderly holding me, and our noses touch. The moment is intimate, still. Ours.

"I love you, Bexley," he tells me. "So damn much."

I kiss him, the words a salve to my heart—words I've been waiting to hear for years, unknowingly.

Still, they aren't words I'm ready to repeat.

W
e're both so relaxed
, we nearly fall asleep on the ride to TropiCALI for drinks. Thank God I have my driver taking us everywhere tonight.

After the patio fuck, we enjoyed simultaneous shower-gasms, then got dressed. Now we lazily lace our fingers as we cruise toward downtown LA.

"It's been a good day," Bex murmurs, nestled close to me. She rests her head on my shoulder, stifling a yawn as the car pulls up to the valet.

"You gonna be able to handle this?" I ask her, as the driver opens her door. "There might be a lot of cameras out tonight."

"I only have eyes for you." She winks, and I know she's being cheesy on purpose, but part of me loves the sweet way she plays. I need more sweet in my life.

"You better," I tell her, squeezing her ass as she exits the town car.

The restaurant is full, and I'm glad we have a table in the back of the bar. Holding Bexley's hand, I guide her to my friends. When they see us, Cassius raises a glass in greeting.

"Our man, Holden," he says. "And this must be Bexley?"

"That's right," she says confidently, offering him her hand, before reaching for Evie's proffered one. Shaking it, she says, "I'm a huge fan—I know that is probably so tacky to say, but I was very much fan-girling when Holden told me you were friends.”

"Thank you," Evie says, her eyes warm and her words genuine. "I still can't believe I’m well-known enough for anyone to know my name."

"Oh, you totally are," Bexley says, taking a seat on a couch beside me. "I'm a student teacher, and the students are constantly playing your album—and yours, too, Cash."

"Yeah, sure," Cassius says, grinning, beaming at his girl. "We all know who's the real star here."

Jude jumps into the conversation, and I notice that Rachel's not here. "Heard you might be a star soon, too," he says, shaking Bexley's hand.

She shakes her head, confused. I want to mouth the word
NO
to Jude, but it's too late.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"Did the meeting with Trenton not go well?" Jude asks, darting his eyes to mine.

Oh, fuck. Bexley is not going to like this.

"Trenton?" she asks.

At the same time, I say, "Oh, that went fine. He just stopped by for a drink."

"A drink?" Jude's left eyebrow raises, more than slightly.

"But I thought he was coming to—" Evie starts, but Cassius reaches for her knee, squeezes it. The moment is so noticeably awkward that even Bexley scrunches up her nose.

"What am I missing?" she asks.

Jude, Cash, and Evie all smile tightly, leaning back in their seats, looking at me for help.

"What?" Bexley says, laughing now. "You guys are pretty intense to keep up with. I think I need a drink while you fill me in."

A waitress appears, as if she heard our conversation—hell, she probably did. We’re the most A-List table here tonight, and I try to ignore the reality that several people have pulled out their phones and are taking photos of us.

"I'd love a glass of Prosecco," Bexley orders.

"I'll take a Manhattan," I tell her before she whisks away.

As soon as she's gone, Bexley returns to the group, leaning in as if they're old friends. "So, I thought the whole thing was kind of awkward with Trenton today. Was there a reason for that?"

Jude frowns—and Bexley notices.

I've got to say something, but I don't want the next words to be ones that push her away.

"Trenton's my agent, right?" I say.

"Yeah," Bexley says, nodding slowly.

"Well," I begin, uncomfortably, "I thought maybe he could represent you. Like, if you wanted to take acting seriously again, move to LA and start auditioning. He came over to meet you—"

"Wait," she says, holding up a hand. "You, like, set it up?"

The waitress comes over and drops off our drinks, and I take the moment to look at her, thank her directly, avoiding the conversation at hand.

"I'm going to be a teacher, Holden. You know that, right?"

"I know you say that, but ... we both know you don't really want to be a teacher."

She lets out a cold, sharp laugh—a laugh that’s so unlike her that it throws me off. Her ruby red lips widen incredulously as she absorbs what I said.

"Don't you think that's a little fucking presumptuous?" she asks.

"I think I know you better than you want to admit. I think you’re as scared as you've ever been. And I’m a good friend, helping you get out of Tolling and into the place you belong. Where you've always belonged."

"In LA? With you? Is that it?" she asks, standing.

"Sit, Bex. Don't be like this," I tell her, reaching for her hand.

"Be like what? Be a realist? Because the truth is the same as it's always been, Holden. You never wanted to commit to me before, and now it seems like you only want to if it's on your terms. If I'm some actress with an agent, and living here in LA with you, we can work. But if I don't play by your rules, what? What happens then, Holden?" she asks.

"Then you’ll live with more regret than you have right now."

She leans over, clearly unfazed by the fact that my friends can hear every word we exchange. "You told me you love me," she hisses. "This isn't love, not respecting me enough to ask why I'm in Tolling. Why I chose this life."

"Oh, baby," I tell her. "I know why you're back there. You’re scared to face the person you really are."

"But you're so noble, so evolved that you know your motivations for everything?" she asks.

"I know you. And that's enough."

"You don't know anything about me, Holden," she tells me, her voice hushed, her tone intense, her words sharp. She starts to walk away.

"Why is it always you walking away from me?” I call to her as she heads toward the exit. You say I'm scared of commitment? I'm not the one leaving. That's on you, Bexley. All of it."

She turns. Her eyes are full of tears, her face washed in pain.

I watch as she absorbs my words, as the truth in them hits her. She knows it's true.

And still, she walks away.