Page 10 of Beyond the Fame

“Get. In.” I nod my head to the inside of the SUV. “We’re going to the same place.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes, but finally relents, mumbling something about me being bossy the entire time. I close the door, relishing my victory before getting in on the other side.

The driver takes off and I activate the privacy screen as a habit. I always request one when hiring a driver. Most of the time, I'm on calls or going over scripts, and I don’t want to distract them or them to distract me.

We drive for thirty minutes before Rebecca unleashes all hell on me.

“You are insufferable. You could have at least asked me if I wanted to ride with you. Don’t you remember we hate each other? Why would I want to ride with you forty-five minutes to Lana and Mylan’s house in Malibu when we can barely stand each other? I swear, Jenny.”

My eye twitches at the nickname. I’m going to get my revenge on Mylan for letting it slip that one day on set.

She’s still talking about God knows what, and I’ve had enough. I unbuckle my seatbelt so I can reach her, and grab hold of her chin.

“Shut. Up.”

“Make me, asshole,” she snarls.

So, I do. My lips crash against hers. They’re soft, plump, and eager. She parts them and I slide my tongue in.

Did she just moan?

My palm moves to the back of her head, and I grip her hair to have full control. My other hand skates down her front, stopping at her breast to squeeze and knead and tweak her hardened nipple through the fabric of her shirt.

She definitely moaned that time.

I need more.

My hand moves further down while I continue to drown her cries of pleasure with my kisses. I pause at the buttons of her jeans.

“Tell me to stop,” I say against her lips.

“Don’t fucking stop,” she demands and claims my mouth again.

That's all I needed to hear. I unbutton her jeans and push her panties aside, allowing my fingertips to tease her pussy up and down the slit.

So fucking wet.

“Is this for me?”

“Yes,” she whines. “Please.”

I plunge my fingers inside her, and she arches away from the seat. She fists the cloth of my flannel at my sides.

“More, Jensen,” she moans. God, my name on her lips sounds fucking amazing.

I add another finger and pump, in and out, in and out.

“Faster.” Her breaths are short and quick. “Harder.”

My thrusts become brutal. I’m not holding back, and she eats it up, tightening her hold on my shirt enough I swear I hear it rip.

She whimpers when I stop kissing her, which I only do so I can trail my lips along her jaw and down her neck. I lash my tongue against her skin and suck as the urge to leave my mark on her overwhelms me.

I want to consume this woman.

“Don’t you dare give me a hickey, Jensen,” she says, her words husky.

I tease her with a nip of my teeth followed by a lick, and her pussy clenches around my fingers.

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