Unscripted Read online

  “Ronan, can I ask what happened exactly between you and Emma?”

  He took a sip of his beer and then leaned back in the booth. I could see the pain as it flashed in his eyes. They became narrow and dark. I felt terrible that I had brought up an obviously painful subject. This gorgeous man was hurting, and I so deeply wanted to remove the pain.

  “I suppose you’ve read the rumors about my marriage?”

  I nodded.

  “You know that she cheated on me with Dax Martin?”

  “So, it is true?” I said, clutching his hand in mine.

  Ronan nodded and said, “Emma begged me to marry her when we found out she was pregnant. I wasn’t ready for marriage, but she said it would be better for our child to grow up in a loving home with two parents. She didn’t want Leah to be shuffled back and forth between us. Emma convinced me that a stable environment was better for a child, especially since we were both sort of famous and our careers were taking off. She said baby and marriage would make us tabloid superstars. I thought it was total bollocks, but I was dumb enough to go along with it.”

  “Sorry Ronan, no one deserves to be cheated on. You obviously loved Emma because then you had Jade shortly after.”

  “Jade, oh my sweet lovely little girl. She was conceived during a drunken shag. Ever heard of an anger bang?” Ronan sort of chuckled when he said that to me.

  I nodded, knowing that I’ve had a few of those in my life. Then came the million dollar question. “Did you ever love Emma?”

  “Not really. She was a fine thing and a lot of fun, but our relationship wasn’t very deep. It was purely physical.”

  Great, just what every girl wants to hear about the guy they’re into. As long as the attraction wasn’t still there, I was okay. I have a hard time trusting people, and I’m working on it with Dr. Goodwin. I’m getting better, I think. I want to trust Ronan.

  “How did you two meet anyway?”

  “We were set up by our agents after we did a photo shoot together. We were spotted at a coffee place in Beverly Hills one afternoon and pictures leaked online. The reaction to us dating ignited a firestorm. We soon became tabloid darlings. Everywhere we went we were photographed, walking her dog, at the grocery store and leaving restaurants. We had a ton of event obligations between the two of us. She had just landed the Nadia’s Dream campaign and I was the face of London Grey. Being photographed continuously never took the wind out of our relationship. It was good for our personal brands and business to be a couple.”

  Sounds to me like there wasn’t an ounce of romance involved in the relationship between the two of them. I could tell that bothered Ronan a bit, speaking so matter of fact about it. His eyes were oddly cold and his voice was unfeeling. Ronan never showed any emotion on his face while talking about her.

  “Thank you for sharing your personal story with me. I feel honored that you wanted to open up… to me.” I smiled at Ronan, drinking in his gorgeous dark eyes and then without hesitation— I brushed a kiss over his lips.

  His lips parted. His talented tongue filled my mouth, twisting with mine. His hand moved to my thigh and up under my skirt. I was still wearing those tights, but that didn’t seem to be stopping Ronan from eagerly cupping my sex right there in the pub under the soft glow of candlelight. He moved his hand back and forth, his long fingers tracing over the delicate fabric that covered the most sensitive part of my body. If I didn’t know any better I thought he might break through the fabric and finger fuck me right there under the table, and I’d probably let him. My mind was hazy. I couldn’t think about anything other than Ronan’s skillful hands being on my body as his lips moved down my chin to my neck.

  “Finish,” his voice broke. “Finish your drink, Holliday,” he commanded before drinking the rest of his beer and slamming the glass to the table. Ronan slid out of the booth, motioning to our server. He handed him a fifty and told him to keep the change. The server smiled and said thank you.

  “Why are we leaving? We haven’t even ordered,” I said, rather confused by his abruptness. Ronan had a rage in his eyes. Hovering over me, he leaned down, placing one hand on the table and the other on the top of the booth, again caging me like an animal. My pulse quickened. He looked me in the eyes, saying, “I’m taking you to bed. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. I’m going to make you come until you can’t breathe. I need to taste you in my mouth,” he growled.

  Fuck me. That’s some invite for sex. That wasn’t the look of rage in Ronan’s eye that was the look of pure sexual appetite, and he had a craving for my body.

  We barely made it to the penthouse at The York without tearing each other’s clothes off. We made out like teenagers in the backseat of the Mercedes. Hungry… starved in our lust for one another. Ronan demanded that Dean drive through every yellow and red light in the city. He made me take off my tights in the car. I did as I was instructed, but I didn’t let him touch me. It wasn’t for Ronan’s lack of trying, because he really tried. He was in a hurry to get me into bed.

  The elevator ride was excruciating, stopping on damn near every floor only intensified the ache I had between my legs. Ronan couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was thrilling how much he desired my body.

  He lowered his mouth to my ear and murmured, “I cannot wait to be buried deep, deep inside you.”

  Tipping my gaze, I looked up at him, finding myself completely lost in the depths of his eyes. All I could manage to say was his name, as I ran my hand the length of his arm.

  We finally arrived to the top floor and he pushed open the door of the penthouse, peeling off my coat and my scarf, as well as his, and dropping them all to the floor of the foyer. His eyes never left mine as he tore my black lace panties from my body. I’d never wear those again, and they were my favorite pair. His jeans came down and he lifted me onto the credenza. Shoving my skirt up over my hips he pushed deep into me.

  “Ahhhhh,” I sucked in a breath.

  “Holliday, are you okay? Am I hurting you? You’re tight, but really wet,” he said, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

  I nodded and replied, “No… this feels good.”

  “Fuck Holliday, you’re goddamn perfect,” he groaned. “Jesus, I’m so fucking hard.”

  All this dirty talk. No man had ever spoken to me like this while having sex. Well, there was one other man who loved to talk dirty, but not nearly as explicitly as Ronan. I had to admit while it was shockingly crude at first, I rather enjoyed it.

  “Holliday, I want to hear you calling out my name with searing pleasure because I’ve satisfied you.”

  “Ronan...”

  “Say my name again...”

  Ronan worked my body in ways I never knew were possible, his hips continually grinding into me, taking deep strokes and then short thrusts. It was like he had a pleasure formula on how to make me come.

  “Yes… yessss…” I gasped as he squeezed my ass pounding into me, over and over.

  “My name, Holliday…”

  My nails clawed his neck. “Ronan…”

  “You feel so good right now,” he whispered in my ear.

  I wanted lick his skin off, he tasted so fucking good. He made me feel so fucking good. No man had ever driven me to such dizzying heights. I thought I might pass out from the pure bliss of him fucking me.

  I threaded my fingers through his luscious locks, twisting the pieces between my fingers. I tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back saying, “I want to see your eyes when I make you come. No kissing.”

  Fucking shit, that was hot.

  His gaze on me was intense. I couldn’t look away. I felt as if I was revealing my entire soul to him in this moment.

  “Ronan… yes… yessssss,” I screamed as the orgasm took hold of me in a rush.

  He gripped me tighter, thrusting inside me faster, going deeper into my core. The tremors pulsating through my muscles were incredible. I could feel my toes curling in my heels. I had to kick them off my body, as if fre
eing them from my feet would cause the high-voltage tremors to leave, and I would no longer endure these explosive shocks.

  “That’s right my beauty, you feeling all of this? I did this to you. This is how your body will always feel when I’m inside you.”

  “Ronan, please… oh please stop… I can’t take it anymore. It’s all too much,” I pled in desperation.

  “Holliday, I’m not done with you just yet. You will come again for me,” he hissed.

  He continued driving inside me. I needed him to stop or I was going to shatter into a million pieces. With one final thrust Ronan came inside me and let out an intense groan as his glimmering green eyes screwed shut. The vibrations ripped through me like electric pulses shocking my core bringing me to climax once more. He kissed my lips, not making any movement to ease out of me. We stayed entwined for what seemed like forever.

  “Holliday,” he murmured against my lips, “I’m going to let you rest a bit, and then I’m going to fuck you again until you beg me to stop.”

  Ronan released his firm grip he had on me while lifting my limp body off of him. He held his hands around my waist, keeping me from crumbling to the hard tile floor. When I was able to sort of stand on my own, Ronan used one hand to pull up his jeans. The other hand moved me against the wall for support as he gently gripped my shoulder. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom. I was utterly weakened— my entire body felt like a wobbly Jell-O mold.

  Yum, Jell-O sounds delicious right now.

  He pushed me down on to the plush feather comforter that covered the bed. I lay there feeling completely satisfied enjoying the mini aftershocks going off in my body. Ronan began to take off his clothes, sliding his jeans back down over his god-like body. I bet he spent hours in the gym. He was in very excellent shape. I wanted to reach up and unbutton his shirt, but I was too weak still. I couldn’t move. I had been sexually paralyzed by Ronan Connolly. Removing his shirt, he exposed his sculpted shoulders and broad chest that was dusted with light hair. He was all man, and in this moment, he was all mine. Oh and for the record, there were no camera tricks used in the Velocity ads where the size of Ronan’s cock was concerned.

  He came towards me from the end of the bed, seducing me with every glaring glance.

  There he goes again— putting that spell on me.

  Slinking towards me his hands did all the work, caressing my legs up to my thighs. Ronan told me earlier he was going to let me rest. I wasn’t done resting. His thumb brushed against my pussy and over my throbbing clit. My head fell back when I felt him slip two fingers inside me.

  “God, Holliday,” he rasped, “I cannot wait to have you again.” His fingers curled inside me, the heat and the friction driving me insane.

  Jesus. I am not going to survive Ronan Connolly.

  “Ronan… please… I need you to…” I managed to say through moans. His fingers left my body— I groaned at the loss.

  “I’ll give you what you need, beauty.”

  He lifted me up gently, removing the black sweater from my slender frame, tossing it to the floor. Next he freed my skirt from my body, and my head sank back into the feather pillows on the bed.

  Trailing his tongue against my bare flesh, he whispered, “Now, my beauty, what do you need from me?”

  “I need… your fingers… your tongue… inside me.” My breath caught in my throat as I tried desperately to get the words out.

  Closing my eyes I gripped the white comforter tightly, as if I was holding on for dear life. Knowing what he might do to me next would send me over the edge of a euphoric cliff.

  He stopped touching me. I opened my eyes wondering what was causing the delayed sensual assault to my body.

  “Holliday, you have two scars between your thighs and one on your hip.”

  Right the scars. Every fucking time, and I hated explaining. I wasn’t sure whether to lie or tell the truth.

  “Yes, I know. I also have one on my back and underneath my shoulder.”

  “I thought I saw the shadow of a removed tattoo on your shoulder the other night.”

  Nope, I wish it was that simple.

  Ronan ran his finger over the one on my hip, very gently asking, “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want you to fuck me again,” I said bluntly.

  “Holliday, you have marks on your body, and I’d like to know what happened and who or what put them there.” His eyes pleaded with me, gazing with a warm sadness. “Talk to me, beauty.”

  This was the first time a man had insisted on knowing about the scars instead of just fucking me when I asked. I didn’t want Ronan to look at me with such sorrow or pity. My body stiffened. I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest and clutching my arms around my body, shielding his gorgeous eyes from my ugly scars.

  “Ronan… I’m not sure you can handle it,” I said softly.

  “Beauty, what are you talking about? I can handle it, I promise. I’m tougher than I look,” he said, giving me that sexy half-smile. Moving closer, he sat next to me, pulling me in tight to his chest and wrapping the comforter around us. Ronan’s heart was beating at a slow steady rhythm. My head rose and fell with each breath he drew into his perfect body.

  “Holliday, talk to me please.”

  “Okay, just remember you asked for this,” I said, feeling him kiss the top of my head. “A little over two years ago when I lived in California I was tortured, raped and beaten for nearly ten hours.”

  “Jesus! Holliday. What the fuck?”

  Yup! Knew that was coming.

  I continued with my tale of woe. “I know. I’ll get to that. A guy, an ex-boyfriend, we had just broken up at a party a few days before… he and his three fucking asshole friends did this to me.”

  “I’m so sorry, Holliday. I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. It’s okay. No one really knows what to say when I tell them what happened to me,” I said while stroking his chest.

  “That Thursday I’d come home early. I had taken the afternoon off to prep for a work event later that night. My ex hadn’t given me back my key yet, which is how he got into my home where he and his sadistic friends were waiting for me. They were eating my food and drinking all my booze when I walked in. I had surprised them, but my ex, he walked around the corner and grabbed me and threw me to the couch where he began hitting me repeatedly. He told me I was no good. He went on to say that I was a whore and needed to be treated like the fuck rag I was.”

  Ronan shifted, moving around to look at me. He cupped my chin in his hand, saying, “Oh, my beauty, you are anything but no good. I hope you know that.”

  I smiled at him and said, “I do Ronan. I’ve been in therapy a long time. I’m getting better and stronger all the time.” Threading my fingers with his, I continued. “The verbal abuse went on for hours. He and his jerkoff friends just yelled at me while they got drunk and rifled through my things. They spent their time breaking valuables, putting on my lingerie and parading around the house acting like animals. They even smashed all my DVD’s and destroyed all my electronics. My house, my personal space, was a disaster zone. I screamed and screamed and no one could hear me. I was beyond terrified.”

  Ronan tried to speak, but I just placed my finger to his lovely luscious lips and went on with my story. He closed his eyes and drew my palm up to his mouth, gently kissing it and continuing kissing down to my wrist, all the way to the inside of my elbow. My heart swelled. This beautiful man just let me go on and on about my life history, even though I could see it was painful for him to hear about this ugly event which was true life and not a story written on the pages of a movie script.

  “They took turns… raping me over the course of the afternoon and into the early evening.” Ronan gripped me tighter as the words tumbled out of my mouth. He sighed deeply and his whole body stiffened when he hear the word, “raping.”

  “I was in and out of consciousness at times. I heard them laughing at me, saw them scowling at
me while their beer and vodka laced lips covered my body. I cried, and the more I cried, the more they yelled. I said no over and over, and the more I said no the harder they struck me with their fists. They beat me so badly they broke a few of my ribs, busted my lip, and fractured my cheekbone and my nose. At one point two of them took turns kicking me all the way down the hallway to the guest bathroom. Ignoring the pain in my ribs, I reached out and twisted the fingers of one of my attackers. He struck out and slammed me against the wall. The other one punched me in the chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Deciding not to fight back anymore, I curled into the fetal position on the tile floor. They took nearly everything from me that day, breaking me slowly, both emotionally and physically. I was tossed around like a rag doll and passed around between the four of them, being used as nothing more than a cum dispenser for their personal gratification.”

  Anger washed over Ronan’s face and neck, turning white and then red. I could see he was trying to contain his emotions. He would let out a deep sigh and ball up his fists every time he heard something unpleasant, or maybe it was the vision of what was happening that made him so angry.

  “Eventually each one of them passed out from being so drunk and tired. But they woke up at different times, drinking more beer, sitting on my couch in the living room chastising me and staring at me with icy drunken glares. When the beer ran out they started in on my wine collection. They barely drank any of the bottles. Mostly they just opened all the bottles, inhaling the grapey flavors, taking a swig, saying how disgusting it was and how only little sluts drink wine. Then they would pour it out.”

  I started to get a dry mouth. I grabbed my throat, rubbing it gently, and Ronan asked me if I wanted water. I nodded, and he brought me back a bottle of San Pellegrino.

  “The beating continued into the night. Finally when they were done raping me, they joked about killing me. I really thought my life was over. They propped my near lifeless body in one of my kitchen chairs, tying me up and placing grey masking tape over my mouth so I couldn’t scream. My ex took out his pocket knife and sliced a mark on my arm under my shoulder. You’ll see it looks like the letter “D.” He ran the knife down my cheek, threatening to carve his initials into my cheek or slice my neck open from ear to ear. He didn’t, obviously. Then each one of them took a lit cigarette and took turns marking my body in various places. They said they were branding me as the whore that I was to them. Once they were done burning me they poured alcohol on me. They mentally tortured me by clicking their lighters over and over in my ears, threatening to set me on fire.”