The company I work for, Obsidian Internet Security, gets invited to these movie industry charity things all the time because some of our biggest clients are movie studios. Remember when the North Koreans hacked Sony Pictures because they were putting out that movie where Seth Rogen and James Franco were going to go assassinate Kim Jong Un? Yeah. You probably don’t, or only vaguely. But the movie studios basically crapped their pants after that and ponied up a lot of cash to make sure their private emails didn’t get spread all over the evening news.
Since my company gets invited to a lot of these things, I get invited a lot. Or rather, ordered to go a lot. I’m a good ambassador. I’m the only woman in my department. I have the best social skills of my co-workers (which is a low bar, believe me). And, honestly, I look pretty damn good in a black slinky dress. So my boss makes me go to these hoity-toity shindigs.The silver lining is there’s tons of actresses and models at these things, so I don’t stand out. In fact, I’m kind of on the curvy side. (I told you I like cupcakes.) So, although I occasionally get slobbered on some by bald studio executives, they usually run after the stick figures with implants.Plus there’s free champagne.Anyway, I’m at the Hollywood Charity Gala, which is being held on the third floor of the Dubai Hotel on the Sunset Strip. It’s pretty badass – and probably the most opulent place I’ve ever seen. Plush carpet. Twenty-foot-long, ceiling-high mirrors everywhere. Beautiful scrollwork in the dark oak walls. Like somebody took the cool parts of Versailles and plunked them down in a 21st century hotel.I’m mingling but trying not to make eye contact, avoiding the old horny studio executives, drinking my free champagne, holding my little black clutch, when he walks up.He’s tall. Six foot three. Late 20’s, maybe 30 at most. Short dark hair. Looks like a young Hugh Jackman. Super-expensive tux with an immaculate bow-tie. Broad shoulders. Powerful build. Mischievous eyes. Slight smile to his very kissable lips.Now I know what my co-workers feel like when they look at me.(That’s not building me up. If anything, it’s taking me down a peg. Analogy time: super-hot guy is to Eve what Eve is to 27-year-old virgin computer programmers. See? Not exactly tooting my own horn here.)My lady parts are immediately like, Zing! He’s so, soooo hot. But I figure he’s looking past me to somebody else.And then he walks over and stands slightly at an angle to me. Kind of looks at me, but glances around intermittently, like we’re having a sort of secret conversation he doesn’t want anybody else to hear.He smells great. Some mix of sandalwood and musk – exotic and impossible to identify.“You look out of place,” he says. His tone of voice is very flirtatious.“Why’s that?” I ask, immediately figuring he’s going to bust on me for not being a skinny model.“You don’t look like you’re trying to fuck anybody over.”I laugh. “Well, the night is young.”He grins. “You realize I said, ‘You don’t look like you’re trying to fuck anybody over,’ right? ‘Over’ being the key word there.”I immediately blush. I’m not the kind of chick who tosses off the f-bomb in a casual conversation. Especially in a casual conversation with a crazy-hot guy.Especially when the f-bomb in question is about actual sexual intercourse, and not just emphatic grammatical filler.(‘Actual sexual intercourse.’ ‘Emphatic grammatical filler.’ I am such a nerd.)He grins when he sees my reaction. “Little too far?”“Little too far,” I agree. I try to walk that thin line of letting him know I’m not that kind of girl… but not exactly wanting him to stop, either.“What’s your name?” he asks.“Eve Saunders,” I say. I specifically don’t ask for his name because I don’t want to seem too eager.“You ever have to give presentations for your job, Eve?” he asks out of nowhere.I’m a little surprised he didn’t lead with, Are you an actress? But points for not assuming I am. I hate that every guy I meet in LA thinks I’m an actress and not, say, a doctor or a lawyer. Or something where your IQ is more important than your bra size.“Uh… yeah… sometimes. Why?”“You get nervous beforehand?”“Yes.”“But then you get into it, and all the nervousness disappears, and you just go with it, and then everything’s incredible and feels great.”I frown at him. “…yeah?”“There’s a lot of situations like that in life,” he says with one uplifted eyebrow and a smile.Immediately I’m blushing even hotter than before.He’s talking about sexual tension.And… sex.I think.I am sooo not ready to acknowledge the sexual tension between us right now. Or even acknowledge that I know he’s talking about sex. (Although I guess my blushing did that for me, dammit.)But I AM wondering what it would be like to kiss him.One thing that impresses the hell out of me?I’m wearing a pretty low-cut dress, but his eyes never stray to my cleavage. Not once. He either looks me in the eyes, or he looks around the room. Nothing in between.“No response?” he asks.“I – I’ll have to take your word for it,” I stutter, not sure what the hell I should say.“I want to show you something,” he says, and takes my wrist in his hand. His very large, very powerful hand.He tugs me along behind him as he sets off across the hotel ballroom. I just follow, trailing along behind him, with my clutch under my arm. No protest from me at all – more out of surprise than anything. I don’t exactly get led around by men like this. Especially hot, powerful men. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I like the feeling of him gripping my arm and leading me. In fact, as turned on as I am at this moment – and as much champagne as I’ve already had, combined with how hot he is – he could probably take me just about anywhere.But he doesn’t take me to the elevators, or a hotel room, or anything like that. He takes me up a stairwell to the mezzanine above.Then he leads me into a little alcove that seems to not go anywhere, a dead end……but he pushes three distinct places on the wall, and suddenly a door opens up out of nowhere. No handles, no visible lines in the wall at all.It’s a full-on secret passageway.We walk out onto a little colonnade, a ten-foot-long balcony with
Oh God.His lips are so warm against mine.The kiss starts off soft and sensual. Mouths pressed together… lips slowly caressing… his tongue touching my lips, and I open wide to take him in.His arms encircle my waist and pull me to him. I’m pressing against him, my soft curves against his muscles. Even under the designer tux, I can feel his rock-hard body.I can feel something else, too.Something thick and long, getting thicker and longer.The kiss starts off soft and sensual, but it rapidly becomes something else. Harder… more insistent.I don’t even notice. I’m caught up in the moment, thinking of nothing but how much I want his hands all over me…And then they are. Caressing the exposed skin on my back… drifting down my bare arms…Suddenly he seizes my hair at the nape of my neck and pulls back. I gasp as he moves his lips to my neck and bites gently at my throat.My blood is suddenly pounding in my ears. I’m immediately wet.I feel that solid pressure in his pants, now fully hard
Finally he’s full inside me, and he starts to gently rock. An inch out, then balls deep. Two inches out, two inches back in. Three inches… four inches… five inches… six… more… each stroke getting progressively longer… deeper… hitting places deep inside me…I’m moaning, I’m sighing, I’m groaning. I lean backwards, my hair hanging free in the air as he holds me with his big strong arms and just fucks me. Fucks me so good.He pulls me back up with one arm, never missing a stroke, and pulls my face to his.He’s kissing me now, angrily, passionately. Rough and urgent.I kiss him back, both of my hands on his smooth face, letting him inside me, both inside my mouth and between my legs.Actually, I didn’t let him inside me so much as he took it. Just possessed me – fucking me, kissing me so deeply.We break off the kiss, and for the first time I open my eyes.He’s looking right at me, his face contorted in pain and pleasure. His beautiful eyes… that scowl on his face like he can’t believe h
WHAT THE FUCK?!I stand there in complete and utter shock. The best sex of my life, and the guy – the incredibly hot, powerful, rich, brilliant guy – walks off, leaving me naked, on a ledge in a secret passageway four stories above Sunset Boulevard.WHAT THE FUCK?!I hurriedly pull on my dress, embarrassed at what I’ve done. I look back at the people beyond the mirror, but they’re completely oblivious. At least I don’t have any witnesses to my shameful predicament.Except the douchebag who just walked out.I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I let him do that to me.And then he just walks off!The fucking ASSHOLE!JERK!GODDAMN PRICK!I pick my panties up off the cement walkway. It’s dusty up here, so there’s no way I’m putting them back on. I open up my clutch to stuff them in – And realize something’s wrong.It’s a little light.I look inside.My wallet’s there – no money is missing – But my cell phone’s gone.Holy fucking shit, I am going to KILL Grant Carlson if I ever r
One other thing I kinda neglected to mention: I’m a former hacker.I started playing with computers when I was seven. I messed up my Dad’s computer, and boooooy was he mad. But rather than punishing me, he just bought another one and was like, “Eve, the broken one’s yours. Do whatever you want with it, but do NOT touch mine again.”Within three weeks I’d learned how to install different operating systems, was messing with UNIX, and yada yada yada. You don’t care. Suffice it to say, by fifteen I was a full-on hacker. I breached the Department of Defense’s website. I was a high-ranking member of Anonymous (hackers who try to right societal wrongs). My specialty was fucking up revenge porn sites and torching the owners’ bank accounts.Then, when I was 17, my buddy Mailin got caught.Mailin was the closest thing I had to a boyfriend in high school, though we never kissed or even held hands. But we were inseparable. He was a hacker, too, though not as good as me. Which is why he got caugh
The Hollywood Charity Gala was on Saturday night. I started work the second I got home and pulled an all-nighter with the aid of lots of coffee. I know that probably sounds horrible to you, but I’m a computer geek. Twenty-four hours of hacking is my version of getting drunk at the club and going to an afterparty.I won’t bore you, but by Sunday evening, I had poked into every nook and cranny of the internet I could find, searching for ways to fuck Grant Carlson up.He was a slippery character, I’ll give him that.All of his major bank accounts appeared to be offshore holding companies. I traced 27 accounts back to St. Lucia, the Seychelles, and Samoa. I found out he owned astounding amounts of property in every major city in the world – Paris, New York City, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Moscow, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, London, you name it. We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars.And that wasn’t even counting his family’s construction companies.But the most useful thing I
The thing that infuriated me, though, was I couldn’t stop thinking about him.Couldn’t stop thinking about the sex. His cock. His kisses.Couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done, what he’d said, how he’d smelled, how he’d felt while he was inside me.Couldn’t stop thinking about me being naked, in public, having mind-blowing sex just feet away from people who couldn’t see me.I’d never done that before. If you’d asked me before last night if I would have liked it, I would have said HELL no!But I did.He’d taken me outside of myself and led me to do something I never would have asked for on my own… and I loved it.And then he’d gone and been a total dick.I hated him for walking away from me after sex like that…But, paradoxically, it made me want him more. It was the opposite of every clingy, needy guy I’d ever been with. The kind who were just so happy to get laid that they rolled over at every opportunity.I was so angry at him… but I was kind of turned on by it, too.It was a
But he’s definitely not finished.He sits down in my plush leather chair and arranges me effortlessly so that I’m straddling him. I can feel his cock pressing hard through the material of his pants against me.He starts to unzip his fly.“Wait,” I say.He stops and looks at me. I can tell he’s annoyed.“I want to see your body,” I whisper.The intent look turns to a grin, and he nods.I undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. God, he’s fucking gorgeous. Incredible chest… pronounced muscles… washboard abs. I want to see his arms – his biceps are so big they’re straining against his sleeves – but he seems impatient, and I don’t want to make him shuck off his jacket.I let my fingers trail lightly down his massive pecs, through the light scattering of hair on his chest. I touch his hard, small nipples… then move down to his abs, which feel like they’re carved out of wood under the skin.He grunts as I unbuckle his belt, unzip him, and reach in and free his cock.Oh God.I didn’t get to see