Two Wrongs

Celeb Status: Liam

"And in other news, Hollywood It Boy, Liam Cohen, finds himself in hot water again, but this time, it's a side most of us have never seen..."

"Holy shit. You're good at that," I said with a breathless chuckle as I readjusted myself back into my boxers and attempted to shake off the buzz of my release.

The blonde, kneeling in front of me, daintily wiped the corners of her mouth like it hadn't just been wrapped around an eight inch cock. (Conservative estimate if you ask me, but I'm not here to brag.) "I've heard that a time or two."

"I believe it," I said with another laugh as my phone buzzed under my thigh. Not sure how I'd ended up sitting on my hoodie; but here we were.

Meredith.

Shit.

Usually when my manager called before noon, it didn't mean good things.

"Sorry, sugar. Looks like I've gotta head out."

Blondie blinked at me in confusion. "Are you joking?"

I shrugged, stepping back into the sweats I'd been donning when I walked in the door. "Duty calls."

Blondie narrowed her eyes. It was a bit frightening really. Probably would be more so if I admitted I didn't remember her name. "I thought you wanted to hang out."

Sure. I'd said that.

Hadn't meant it. But I said it.

"Rain check?" I asked with a smirk, zipping up my hoodie.

"Go fuck yourself, Liam. You do this all the time," Blondie snapped. "Lose my fucking number."

"If that's what you want."

It was no skin off my back. Not like I didn't have a whole phone book of other women I could call if the need struck. And the need would definitely strike... probably later that night.

Let's be serious: as one of the current "It Boys" in Hollywood, I could walk my ass down almost any street in America and pull if I wanted to. Was it a bit egotistical? Sure, but it was the truth.

And now I was slated to put on a pair of spandex tights and save the world from some computer animated evil-doers, so I could only imagine my dating pool would only grow.

And I loved every second of it.

"Look, sugar..."

"Stop calling me that!" Blondie screeched. "Get out!"

I winced and dodged the throw pillow she tossed at me as I made my way to her front door. "I'm sor..."

"GET. OUT!"

The second I stepped over the threshold the door slammed behind me, damn near shoving the doorknob some place I really didn't want explored.

I couldn't help but laugh as I jogged down the stairs and headed toward my refurbished Jeep. The thing was older than me, but I'd basically rebuilt her myself. She was my baby.

My pride and joy.

The only talent I had other than acting.

Well, not the ONLY talent, if you catch my drift.

Ducking under the roll bar, I climbed in and fired up the engine, the gritty voice of Stevie Nicks immediately hitting my ears. I put the car into gear and headed toward what I could only assume would be another scolding from my manager.

But I didn't care.

What more could a guy need? I'd just blown a major load down a cute girl's throat. I had my Jeep, I had the gorgeous California day, and I had Stevie singing in my ear. This day was going perfectly.