Unscripted Page 9

  “Does that answer your question?”

  I nodded, looking into his eyes with a seductive lazy grin. God, he has me so irrevocably under his spell. I had survived my first fight with Ronan Connolly. Granted it was all my doing with my trust issues, but at least he didn’t let me run. He made me talk to him. He made me communicate, which was a good thing. The last thing I wanted was to end up like my parents, never asking the right questions and never being completely honest.

  “Three things… You don’t love Emma?”

  He shook his head and said, “No, not in the least.”

  “And you make love to me?”

  “My beauty, you’ve cast a spell on me, and I’m enamored by you.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you. I think you seduce me with your eyes on purpose,” I replied. “And we’re dating?”

  Teasing me, he said, “I don’t date, remember?” He bent down to kiss me again.

  I cocked my head to the left, giving him a sly smile. I said nothing.

  He laughed very sweetly, telling me, “I only want to be with you. There is no one else that has my attention.”

  The penthouse phone rang, and Ronan answered it. “Yes send them up. Thank you.”

  Shoving my hands into the pockets of my skirt, I looked at him suspiciously. Ronan came back towards me, brushing the hair away from my face and clearing the way to cover my mouth with his firm sweet lips. I heard a knock at the door. Ronan kissed me again quickly and then walked to the foyer. Dean stood there carefully checking IDs as the women marched in swiftly, one leggy blonde after the other wearing white lab coats and dressed in black. They were carrying suitcases, folding massage tables and endless cosmetics cases.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he said while cupping my face. “We’re getting a couple’s massage, and then you’re getting pampered the rest of the afternoon before the gala,” Ronan whispered while tracing small circles on my cheek with his thumb.

  “Ronan, my love, you look well,” said a tall blonde woman dressed in all black, kissing him on both cheeks. She had a thick accent, maybe Swedish. Her name was Livia Bergman, and she owned, according to Ronan, the most exclusive upscale full service salon and spa in all of Manhattan. Ronan was just one of her many celebrity clients. For a moment I wondered if he had slept with Livia. That greeting was awfully warm and familiar.

  I thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon of pampering. Ronan had ordered champagne and espresso along with fresh fruit and assorted Italian chocolates to indulge in while I had my hair and nails done. When I emerged from the master suite wearing the strapless metallic gown, I found Ronan standing in front of the picture window. He stood tall and powerful gazing out over the city as the sun began to dip into the horizon with one hand on the piano and a drink in his other. He turned around, catching my stare. His eyes widened as he ran his hand over the curve of his jaw to his mouth, taking in the sight of me in the dress. I smiled knowing that I had this alluring effect on him.

  The dress was simply stunning. It was almost as if it was made with my body in mind, hugging my curves in all the right places. I felt amazing.

  My dark brown hair was parted on one side with my blunt bangs sweeping across my forehead and loose waves cascading over my shoulders. Mimi, the makeup artist that Ronan hired, made me up with a subtle blue smoky eye and slicked my lips with a very light pink gloss. I thought about a silver manicure, but I ultimately went classic with a French manicure. I didn’t want to be too bold, yet.

  Just as Ronan was scanning my body with his electric eyes, I was doing the same thing to him, taking note of just how handsome he truly was. Dressed in a classic white tuxedo shirt paired with slim-fitting trousers, he looked distinguished. His bowtie was draped around his collarbone not yet tied and his normally curly dark brown hair was slicked back in neat relaxed waves.

  “Holliday, you look absolutely gorgeous. I’m an incredibly lucky man,” he said, approaching me slowly while placing his drink on the round table.

  Blushing, I said, “Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself, Mr. Connolly. Like James Bond.”

  “All I need is a martini because I already have a beautiful woman on my arm. I’m not going to be able to control myself tonight. All I’ll be thinking about is how to get you out of this dress and spread out under me,” he teased.

  “Well you’ll just have to control your libido tonight, Ronan. Honestly, and I cannot believe I’m saying this, I think I need a break from your cock.”

  What am I saying? I’ll never tire of him fucking me.

  His eyebrows shot up as he inched towards me, saying, “I can use things other than my cock to ravage your irresistible body incessantly.” He licked his bottom lip.

  Christ! Don’t fucking do that.

  “I like this,” he said, running his hand up the parted slit of my dress, seductively caressing my leg. Reaching up and under he found that I was not wearing any panties.

  “Well, well what’s going on here?”

  I playfully smirked at him, shoving at the curve of his shoulder.

  Kissing my neck he let out a groan so enthralling the vibrations sent rippling shockwaves through my entire body.

  Ronan moved me to the back of the couch where he bent me over at the waist, throwing my dress up over my hips and exposing my backside. He ran his hands over the small of my back and down my buttocks, gripping each side firmly. With the coaxing of his knees, my legs parted, and I let out a gasp when he plunged a finger inside me. He stroked me back and forth slowly as he planted soft kisses on the curve of my hip. I felt my breasts swell, my stomach tighten and my nipples harden instantly at his skillful touch. He added a second finger, causing me to buck my hips, silently begging for more.

  Fuck me.

  Normally I might give a damn that I’d just had my hair and makeup done, but I was shamelessly seduced into letting Ronan do whatever he wanted to me. I didn’t care if he smudged my lipstick or tousled my hair. I was all too happy to have a quick and dirty romp with him.

  Grabbing me by the waist, he spun me around swiftly. My ass smacked up against the low back of the couch, and I gripped it with my hands for balance. With a greedy desire sharpening in his eyes, he threw my skirt up over my hips. Apparently he was on a mission. Most of my evening gown was over the back of the couch. The rest of the fabric was being held back by Ronan’s hand. In an instant he was on his knees, running his soft hot tongue over my clit. I nearly fell over when he began moving his tongue with broad strokes over the entire area of my pussy. My knees shook when I felt Ronan sucking the most inner bits of my skin.

  “Mmmm, Holliday you taste sweet like vanilla, sugary sweet… so warm.”

  That was nice of him to say, but I’m sure I don’t taste like a fucking cupcake.

  When he took one of his long fingers pushing in as far as he could go, I spread my stance wider. He seemed to enjoy that because he dipped another finger inside me while licking my throbbing clit wildly. My entire body grew warmer with every soft stroke of his tongue. I was losing my mind, coming undone the more he licked and sucked. I gripped the couch so tight I thought I might break off a nail.

  “I could spend hours between your legs… sucking… licking and tasting your fucking perfect silky little cunt.”

  He blew softly against my skin, teasing me, driving me wild, while licking me senseless. Devouring me, Ronan plunged deeper and deeper. My unhinging came when he pressed his plush tongue flat against my pussy, while still sucking my clit.

  “Ohhh… Yesss,” I cried out in a moan of indescribable pleasure. I thought for sure the next floor could hear me. I nearly thought I might blackout from the dizzying electric shockwaves that were ripping through me.

  “Jesus Christ, Ronan,” I said breathlessly.

  Ronan placed soft kisses across my thighs as I tried to regain my balance. He stood up, allowing my dress to fall back to the floor. I caught the scent of him as he leaned into my body, crisp and clean. I ached to touch him.
I never wanted him to stop touching me, ever. He adjusted my dress and I noticed his cock was bulging through his pants. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted desperately to return the favor. Dropping to my knees in a $9,000 crystal-beaded gown, I reached up for the length of him.

  “Holliday,” he whispered.

  Slowly unzipping his pants, a low guttural moan escaped him as I took him into my mouth with full leisurely slides, gripping just under the tip and moving my hand slowly up and down. I knew I should just suck the tip, but I wanted to feel all of him in my wet mouth.

  “Fuck me, good God that feels amazing,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

  I looked up and winked. I could tell that turned him on so I continued to give him a few more deep slides taking him all the way into the back of my throat.

  Completely hungry in my need to taste him, I gripped his shaft with both hands gently as I massaged him with my tongue. His moans of pleasure urged me to suck harder, cupping one hand around the base of his shaft and lightly squeezing.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  Ronan threaded his fingers through my tresses. I felt his long fingers massaging my scalp. With my senses overloading, I kept servicing him, driving him wild with each lick.

  “Holliday, Christ. I’m so hard,” he groaned. “I love watching you sucking my cock.”

  I swirled my wet tongue around the tip of the wide head of his dick and then took the length of him in my mouth gently and began moving in a slow steady rhythm.

  Ronan pulled my hair, forcing my face up to look him in the eyes, murmuring while panting slowly, “I’m… going… to come now.”

  I gently cupped his balls, stroking them softly as I brought Ronan to climax with a few more licks. Long wet slides with my tongue and brief grazes on the tip of his cock sent him exploding into my mouth. I swallowed each slow burst of hot liquid that he pumped into me, enjoying the saltiness as it coated my tongue and then slid down the back of my throat. He let out the most astonishingly erotic growl as he came forcefully for what seemed like several minutes.

  “Christ, baby,” he said, inhaling through sharp panting breaths. “That was fucking incredible. I’m going to fully enjoy fucking your sweet mouth. You’re very good at that.”

  Ronan hiked up his pants while trying to regain his normal breathing.

  Walking to the bathroom I basked in the delight that I had rocked this man’s world sexually using only my mouth. Okay, so my tongue and hands had helped too, but still I was very pleased with myself. Moments later, after I was able to collect myself, Ronan joined me, and we brushed our teeth in silence, only smiling at each in the mirror. He was positively glowing. He couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t know if it was because I was with him or because of the mind-blowing orgasm I’d just given him. Maybe it was both. I watched him intently as he tied his bow tie carefully, slipped on his jacket over his broad shoulders and clasped his silver Bvlgari watch to his wrist. He was so beautiful I wanted to cry.

  Is that stupid? I seriously think I’m falling for him.

  The sleek black limo arrived at the gala just in time so that Ronan could walk the red carpet. He asked if I was ready to be photographed on his arm, and I declined. I honestly didn’t think it was a good idea. He understood, but I could tell that a twinge of disappointment rushed over him.

  “I have a surprise for you tonight,” he said, smiling warmly at me while twirling the diamond and platinum bracelet he’d bought for me with his long fingers.

  “What is it?” I giggled.

  “Mr. Connolly, sir, they’re ready to take you to the red carpet now,” Dean’s husky voice said over the intercom.

  “Okay, I’m ready. Open the door in ten.” Brushing the back of his hand over my cheek, he kissed me. I gripped his arm as his hands drifted to my neck, deepening our kisses. I gently shoved his shoulder, saying, “You’re going to be late.”

  “I’m already late.” He grinned.

  He let go of me, and I hurriedly went towards the front of the limo so that no one would see me. Ronan smoothed his tie, the door opened and he stepped out. His PR team quickly ushered him out of the limo and up the steps to the media frenzy. I heard the screams and the chanting of his name which made me anxious and excited all at once. I felt my heart skip a beat when he was swept up in the swarm of photographers, and I could no longer see his gorgeous silhouette.

  After dropping Ronan off at the front of the Hawthorne Park Plaza, Dean escorted me into the VIP entrance of the ballroom, ushering me past security and shielding me from the few paparazzi that were hiding in the alley, hoping to get pictures of celebrities avoiding the red carpet.

  The place was packed wall to wall with celebrities. Walking to the bar alone I must have passed fifteen or so famous faces I recognized. While ordering a white wine, I noticed Ronan’s co-star, Heather Young, talking to a tall dark-haired guy in a midnight navy suit. I wondered which famous person she might be talking with. Heather was obviously enjoying herself— she was flipping her hair, touching his arm and giving this person the most seductive fuck me eyes.

  My own eyes darted around the ballroom searching for any sign of Ronan. Dean was at least ten feet behind me at all times everywhere I moved.

  “Holliday Prescott,” I heard a male voice say.

  I turned around slowly to find Grady James standing in front of me looking as handsome as ever.

  Good God.

  I never dreamed in a million years I’d run into him, of all people, at Ronan’s charity event. Tall, dark and handsome, Grady James was one of the hottest male models in the world, sometimes charity polo player and occasional actor. He’d been in a handful of TV shows and movies. I’d spent the previous summer, and then some, fucking his brains out all over the city of Manhattan and at his beach house in the Hamptons. Grady had a thing for fucking in public places— elevators, hotel lobby bathrooms and the VIP room of an upscale martini bar. He’d even managed to screw me on his agent’s desk one afternoon in July. Technically his agent’s office is not public space, but it was thrilling to think we could be caught at any moment.

  “Grady James, what are you doing here?” I asked as he hugged me and brushed a soft kiss to my heated cheek. A photographer snapped a photo of us, reminding me of the night I went to his agency’s annual white party as his date. We were photographed everywhere that night. I wonder if those pictures were still in existence.

  “Holliday, you look absolutely wonderful. You are a sight for sore eyes,” he teased, giving me a flirtatious once over. “I’m a guest of Heather Young’s.”

  Right, of course he would be a guest of Heather’s.

  His midnight navy suit amplified his dark blue eyes. And of course it was expertly tailored— three-piece, with a checkered shirt and a pink and purple striped tie. His dark hair was slicked back and he had the slightest five o’clock shadow.

  Damn he was sexy.

  “How are you doing, Holliday?”

  “I’m fine, nothing too exciting happening.”

  I was jolted from my conversation with Grady by the sounds of echoing clapping. Ronan had entered the ballroom, all smiles and waves.

  “I hate that guy,” Grady grumbled.

  That whipped my attention back to him.

  “Ronan Connolly? Why?” I huffed. “He’s harmless.”

  “He’s a self-centered asshole who’s only out for himself.”

  “Really?” I said dryly. “The movie star who’s hosting a charity gala to help raise funds for the good of sending medical supplies to Africa?”

  “Holliday, I’m telling you the guy is first-class jerk.”

  “What do you know about Ronan?” I quipped.

  Suddenly Heather Young appeared from the shadows, linking her arm with Grady’s. She smiled at me in that fake way that women do when they’re sizing you up. Heather was tall and beautiful, lean in all the right places and curvy in all of the other the perfect places, the true definition of a blonde bombshell. Her slim-fitti
ng red, scoop-neck gown showed off her two best assets— her huge tits. She looked pretty good, maybe a little tired considering she was just let out of rehab about two months ago. According to the gossips, stress and anxiety issues had gotten her a pass into a posh resort to help her recharge from being overworked. Others say it was her heroin addiction. I didn’t think she was wiry enough to have a drug problem. I’ve been around my fair share of models with substance problems, including Charlotte, who’d battled her demons early on. She’d had a mild flirtation with cocaine, pills and booze. After a few bad decisions that could have wrecked her career, Charlotte had given up the drugs, but she still had the occasional drink.

  I took a sip of my wine and saw Ronan approaching us. The flashbulbs from all the cameras went off like lightening with every powerful stride he took. He kissed my cheek and whispered, “Stay away from Grady James. I have to go greet everyone. Find Dean and take your seat,” he demanded coolly.

  “Heather, you look beautiful,” Ronan said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Grady, glad you could make it to the event,” Ronan said sharply as he shook his hand.

  He excused himself and went to the podium. He didn’t introduce me to Heather, but I will forgive him, knowing that I held some accountability for his late arrival. I did as I was told and went to my seat at the VIP table. I didn’t recognize or know anyone seated at my table.

  The event wasn’t entirely fun for me. Ronan, whom I barely spoke to, was my lifeline and he couldn’t really introduce me because he was too busy himself. I couldn’t fault him for that. The only person I knew I was ordered not to talk to, but I couldn’t exactly avoid Grady. He came up to me at one point asking me to dance. I felt Ronan’s eyes burning into me, so I politely declined. I tried to talk to as many people that I felt comfortable with while Ronan mingled.

  “How much time do we have before I need to be back at the podium?” Ronan asked one of his PR Consultants. I think he said her name was Donna. She was young, blonde and rail thin.