Sebastian
The Soft Launch
As I got ready for the movie premiere later that night, I jerked off to the memory of Evie. I’d missed her so goddamn much. It wasn’t just my balls that ached for her.
I dressed in relative silence, my thoughts keeping me company. She’d laughed when I asked her to stay here. What was her plan then, exactly? To kill all these men and then run back to Michigan? Or did she have some wild plan to flee to another country, or worse—was I a pawn in all this? What if she had someone waiting for her? A lover, a partner, a legal spouse even. Was that the guilt she showed every time I pursued her?
No, it had to be something else.
I would know if there were someone waiting for her.
She wouldn’t have agreed to my little free use idea.
Just the words sent my cock pulsing again, calling for me to rub one more out before the event. I forced myself to stop thinking about her, bent over and dripping with need in that dressing room, as I slid my shoes on and slicked my hair back with gel like an old-time Hollywood star.
The limousine came for me and started toward Evie’s home. The drive was about twenty minutes, and I took the time to have a glass of whiskey and slam another Red Bull.
How could we have had such an incredible moment in that dressing room, and she just laugh at me for wanting more? How could you not want that over and over again?
But the real question was—the one I feared the answer to—was she running from this town or from me?
I didn’t have time to dive deeper inward before the limo stopped and the door opened. I climbed out and stared up at her house. So many of my childhood memories were from this place. It felt like a lifetime ago that Lita was serving us cola and popcorn, introducing us to the classics, and teaching us who was who in horror—and why it was important to recognize their achievements.
What I’d give to have those moments back.
I inhaled as I walked up to her door and knocked. It opened a moment later, and all my reservations about seeing Evie so soon after our tryst washed away. She was stunning.
“Why hello, Final Girl.” My gaze trailed down, pausing at her full, cupid’s-bow red lips before catching sight of her breasts. She wore a strapless light-pink gown that hugged her waist and dipped low to show off her cleavage. I saw a high slit at her thighs, and my cock stirred imagining pushing her dress up and using another one of my times before we went to the premiere.
I forced the thoughts down. I couldn’t be wasteful. I only had four shots left.
She grinned at me. “Hello, Psycho Killer. You clean up well.” She offered me her arm, and I looped mine through hers and escorted her to the car.
“I’m a little nervous,” she admitted after the door was closed and we’d started off. “I haven’t done one of these since I was a kid, and I didn’t look like this.” She laughed nervously.
No, she had not. I admired her—and had to force the thoughts back down. This was literal hell. Being so close and yet so far away. I’d been given access to her body, but it was her heart I wanted. Hell, I’d be celibate for the rest of my life if she just agreed to stay here with me.
“That was theSimon Sayspremiere, wasn’t it?” I remembered that one. It was my first movie. I was eight years old. Heather didn’t want me to attend—she had lined me up for another audition the next day and didn’t want me to be tired. However, Lita Reyes, the powerhouse she was, insisted and offered to be my chaperone.
I’ll bring my daughter too. They’re the same age. They can keep each other company.
“It was! You remember that?” Evie asked.
“How could I forget?” I looked down at my whiskey and stirred it once before taking a large gulp and looking out the window with a sigh.
She’d looked beautiful then, too.
“You’ve done tons of these now. It’s going to be interesting watching you do your thing in real time,” she added.
I turned, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just a job.” I shrugged. “Nothing I find entirely thrilling.”
The general population thought that red carpet events were nothing but fun and excitement. One big party. But these things were far from that. I’d spent years learning how to behave in front of paparazzi. I couldn’t have fun—not when all I could think about was where the cameras were, how to pose, and what I could say out loud. Anyone could be listening, and they’d sell you out in a second for a cover story.
“We are getting paid for this, by the way,” I added. “Not sure if they told you. The PR team loved the idea of us going out in public together.”
The vehicle slowed, and we began to hear noise from outside. I sat back and closed my eyes, knowing we were now in line. Suddenly, I felt the warmth of her hand reaching for mine. I turned and opened an eye. I took her hand and squeezed. Soon, the door opened, and I let her out first, following behind. She clung to my side, and I wrapped an arm around her, making sure my hand didn’t dip too low.
We were still just friends, officially, after all.
