“…Baby likes it messy, yeah, she loves to cause a scene
Touchin’ me in public like she wants the world to see…”
– Artemas
…………………………………………
“Baby? Are you just about ready? We’re gonna be so late.” Dieter asks, coming around the corner to see the small army of stylists finishing up my look for the premiere that we’ve been ordered to attend tonight. Of course, we’re running behind, as per usual, but this is what happens when you’re in the orbit of the perpetually-booked and blessed Dieter Bravo. Back-to-back interviews all day today to promote his latest movie downstairs in a small ballroom of the hotel the film’s production has booked us into, then run upstairs to meet with his style team, working at a breakneck pace in order for us to leave even somewhat on time.
For the record, Dieter Bravo is a brilliant actor, in spite of his notorious reputation for being more than a bit of a troublemaker. But like all things bad-boy in this town, his love of pussy and cocaine has been elevated and celebrated as fuel for his brilliant and award-winning portrayals in cinema and television. I, for one, am happy that he finally decided to leave the illicit substances behind, quietly. And even happier that in doing so has only increased his desires in other areas, particularly me.
I stand up from my perch in front of a large, well-lit mirror, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor as I turn around to greet my date, the Valentino black silk chiffon dress floats to the floor, skimming the wood below my feet. The only coverage afforded me is the flesh-colored bodice and some very strategic pleated gathering to protect my modesty, somewhat. Dieter, for his part, is looking utterly delectable in his own Valentino, black-on-black-on-black. No tie. And his shirt open to the bottom of his sternum to show off plenty of tanned skin. A couple of years ago, he would’ve never been able to pull this look off, but having replaced his addiction to coke with an addiction to exercise and green juice, has managed to get himself into remarkable shape. He’ll tell you it’s just so he can keep working without his body breaking down, but I think that he also likes the trade-off that the increase in endorphins and stamina has had on his sex life.
So, while his addiction of sex still exists, since he and I met, he’s also managed to clear away the once-prevalent ‘give it all way to anyone and everyone’, and focus this particular addiction completely on me. I don’t mind so much. Because, let’s be real – Dieter Bravo knows how to fuck.
“Yeah, I’m ready to go.” I smile and grip his outstretched hand, fingers intertwining and let Dieter pull me into his body while we make our way out of the hotel suite and down the hall to the elevator. Once inside, he drags his index finger along my bicep, giving me a look so full of illicit carnage, I can only hope that we somehow manage to make it through this event before we tear each others’ borrowed couture off each others’ bodies.
We manage to make it down to the lobby without incident and climb into the private car, finally on our way to Dieter’s premiere. All dressed up and everywhere to go, right? You’d think that would keep us both in check. The fact that there are other people in the car. But our well-trained driver and security man know better than to pay attention. Though in this case, Dieter planned ahead and made sure that we could be fully sequestered from the world and the aforementioned staff thanks to blackout windows and a privacy screen.
We have to be careful, careful not to make it too obvious on the red carpet we’re about to walk, that we just can’t manage to keep our hands off each other. I take him in again, eyes raking over his slouched frame perched just right in the backseat of the car. Looking like a rogue or a rake or some other kind of naughty and irresistible piece of walking sex designed purely to make me melt and give in to whatever game he’d like to play. I can’t take my eyes off of the silk shirt that shows off just enough skin, sternum, collarbones, and definition of strong pecs that has been making all the girls and boys lust after Dieter even more than usual. And I know – know what he does to them – does to me – when he dresses like this.
Naughty fucking boy.
But I also know a secret. That he does this for me and me alone. That nobody else matters. That it’s my pussy, my mouth, my ass that he fantasizes about ruining on the regular. And because I’m addicted to him too, I’ll happily let him. Wherever. Whenever. And when Dieter flashes that look my way, all I can do is to answer the call and give in, fall even further into his vortex.
I reach over, push his shirt open, before leaning in to suck a small bruise into his collarbone, a little spot that’s hidden from the world. It’s just for us. Dieter sucks in a sharp intake of breath as I kiss the spot afterward, then cover him back up while he simultaneously pushes the skirt of my dress up and pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him while he unzips the back of my gown, all the way down then pulling the front away from my body to expose my breasts to his penetrating gaze and the cool air of the car. Dieter wastes no time, reciprocating my gesture with one of his own on my breast. Making me breathe his name.
“Who does this body belong to?” He asks, squeezing my breasts in his strong hands, making me whimper and wet. When I don’t immediately respond, he leans in and takes a nipple between his sharp teeth, pulling and sucking until I cry out. “Who. Does. This. Body. Belong. To?”
“You, Fuck. It’s yours. It’s always been yours.” I breathe, sharply. Dieter growls and releases me for the moment, happy with my response. Our eyes meet, his dark, backlit eyes like an eclipse, glowing with lust, pupils blown so wide that only a small ring of color is still visible.
With nothing more than this dark promise flashing between us, next thing I register is us, kissing deeply, open mouths, with so much passion and desperation that all I can do to keep this feeling going is to start to free Dieter from his trousers. Tongues touching, sliding against one another when I unzip him and caress his hard cock with my hand. Push everything out of the way to make sure we don’t ruin his designer clothes, fearing the wrath of his stylist. More kissing as he peels the gusset of my thong out of the way, pressing and rubbing my clit in a perfect rhythm with his thumb. Eyes defiant, Dieter thrusts two fingers deep inside me, opening me up for his cock, but he doesn’t even need to because I’m already so wet and ready for him.
“Don’t move.” Dieter says, curling his fingers deep inside me, the pads of his index and middle fingers pressing in a maddening rhythm against the spongy bundle of nerves that become the center of my universe whenever he touches me there. Hell, even when he looks at me the right way.
“Need to…to move,” I stammer, barely able to form coherent words. “Need you…ah-all of you, D-dieter.”
“Greedy fucking girl.” Dieter presses deeper, filling me with his fingers. Making me sigh and fall back into him just to kiss him all the harder.
Too soon, we come back up for breath, and he slides his fingers out of me, then gives me that look, the one that makes me shudder while he puts first one then the other finger into his mouth.
“Mine.” He purrs between fingers. “So wet. So perfect.”
Dieter uses his other hand to guide himself into me, canting his hips upward while his free hand finds the bare skin on my back, first pushing my body fully down on his generous cock, opening me up from base to tip, then holding me close, forehead to forehead while I ride him. Urgent because all too soon we’ll have to appear in front of a million flashbulbs. But knowing that just makes this all the more intense, all the more vital. Makes us feel every motion, every kiss, every stroke profoundly right on the edge of spilling over.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt Dieter harder than I do in these stolen moments. His cock is so big, so deep that it’s bordering on pain every time he bottoms out and hits my cervix. And each thrust beats a rhythm of clit on pelvic bone that pushes the breath from me into him like the crash of a cymbal at the end of a riff. His hands wrapped from ribcage to spine. And the filthiest words drip from his lips whenever we come up for a sip of air. His lips against my ear, tongue caressing the edge, cock sliding against my insides, hitting all the right spots that makes me see stars with every thrust.
“My babygirl, so fucking tight. I’m not gonna last. Fuck. I need you to come for me. Come all over me, Belleza.”
Faster now, more open mouth kisses, fingers on my clit, playing me like music, sending me over the edge so quick and so hard and gushing all over his cock in wet heat that it sends him over with a growl that emanates all the way from his belly. We’re still against one another, as we come down just a little bit. Forehead to forehead again. We stay like this for as long as we dare, but we’re getting so close to the theater that we have to gather ourselves quickly, but not before Dieter slides his fingers through my folds, gathering us both up, then pushes his fingers into my mouth so we match. I suck for a moment before Dieter slides his fingers out of my mouth with a wet pop before kissing me again, tasting us both on my tongue while he tucks himself and his shirt back into his trousers.
After he finishes putting himself back together, Dieter presses his lips to my throat and drags his fingers between my legs in one more gentle caress before sliding my thong back into place. He presses his wet fingers to the skin above his heart, marking himself with fingerprints of our spend. Then does the same to me before zipping me back into my dress. And it’s another secret we’ll share. Us against the world.
Without a word, Dieter grabs the little pot of lipgloss from his inside coat pocket that he’s carrying for me, so I can reapply as the car stops at the curb of the red carpet. I slide off his lap and back onto the seat just as the privacy screen comes down, with an announcement that we’ve arrived. We barely have a moment to take a full breath before the front door opens and security steps out to open the back door.
It’s like a rock concert, the noise from the fans is overwhelming even from my spot still inside the car. But it hits an otherworldly level as Dieter steps out and into the wild. He smiles, megawatt to the screaming girls clamoring for his attention. He waves at the crowd briefly before turning back into the SUV to offer his hand to help me out. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, Dieter’s grip on my hand intensifies as the flashbulbs erupt and the girls lose their shit all over again. Entwined fingers, he pulls our hands against his diaphragm at the step-and-repeat. Our secret, safe for the moment, but that look he keeps giving me threatens to betray us to the world, betray what we did in the car to everyone. Not that I really care, because all it says is that he’s mine. And I’m his. And we are unbreakable.