Page 7 of Torrid Passion
Stella and Hayden laugh.
“Who would’ve thought the son of one of the most sought-after studio owners in Hollywood is Mr. Pussy,” Hayden says.
“Exactly!” I exclaim. “Seraphina, Leah and April keep talking about a life-altering experience. I want that. The best way I can describe my orgasms with a guy, is a light quiver. I hope Grant can help turn my bad luck around.”
A couple of weeks ago, I attended Seraphina Moreland’s twenty-seventh birthday. She’s three years older than I am. I wouldn’t exactly call us the best of friends, but her dad and mine have a long history—hence, the invite. She’s the daughter of director Bailey Moreland. Hayden and Stella were in the Dominican Republic, because they had to jump on one of the hottest style trends. All their clothing lines are manufactured down there. They missed the big bash, but I was there and that’s when my world shifted.
Seraphina is a plus size girl who’s been lamenting for years how in Hollywood men are blind to girls with lots of curves. That’s until she met Grant at an industry function. He’s the twenty-four-year-old son of one of PinxieArt’s co-owners—the top animation studio in Hollywood. In any case, Grant rocked Seraphina’s world that night. He has a penchant for big girls, but he’ll accept spending the evening with a friend of a friend with less curves because... well... he loves pussy. A lot. Tonight is my night.
“At least he’s not a geeky-lanky-nerd-weirdo-stranger with zero conversation skills,” Hayden points out. She’s harped on about that a few times. I know her. She’s mentally preparing for her turn.
“He runs in our circle and like I said, he’s quite charming and not bad on the eyes.” I insisted on face-to-face chats over coffee. Turns out, Grant is really, really handsome. Kinky, but handsome. He’s tall, blond and his mossy green eyes are captivating. He has a nice body, too. He keeps fit, but he’s not obsessed like so many guys in LA.
“And no penis in vagina action, right?” Stella asks.
My cousins are totally behind me on this, but they want to make sure I’m not walking into a lion’s cage. I love them for caring.
“Nope,” I say. “Grant prefers face-sitting over any other kind of sex. 69 is a close second. If you’re one of his chosen ones,” I say with air quotes, “you get to suck his eleven-inch cock.”
“Eleven inches…” Stella sighs. “I’d love to know what that looks like at least once in my life.” The longing in her voice is unmistakable. She’s been repeating that ever since I mentioned Grant’s gift.
“You almost did once, remember?” The snarky remark comes from my other cousin.
I smother a laugh.
“Shut up, Hayden!” Stella shouts before throwing a dress she was holding at her cousin. “I was duped with promises of eye-popping greatness.”
“Oh, yeah, Brody’s masterpiece was just an illusion… like so many things in Hollywood,” Hayden jokes.
Stella dated Brody Nelson earlier this year. He’s a gorgeous underwear model. After a few months of fooling around, they decided to take things to the next level. To her utter shock, Brody stepped out of his bathroom wearing an eleven-inch cock sleeve and declaring he was ready to break his bed. Apparently, God only gifted him with six inches. He had to borrow the other five. Stella couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Well, Grant’s cock is the real deal according to Seraphina,” I say. “Seraphina claims she’s one of his favorites. Translation, she’s sucked his massive cock many times and choked on it every time. She says it’s a mouthful.”
“I bet,” Stella says.
“I can’t wait to receive your text, ‘I’ve seen God and he sends his regards’,” Hayden giggles.
We all laugh.
