Confessions of a Bad Boy Read Online Free Page A

pulls me by the arm into the room and kicks the door shut behind me. I try to protest, but I can’t think of the words. And anyway, the last thing I want to do is stagger down the streets of downtown L.A. at three in the morning looking for a cab.
    I stand in the middle of the room, waiting for it to stop spinning before I make a move. It takes a lot of effort to keep the world from going out of focus, and I can hear blood rushing in my ears. I see a pair of elegant legs, sexy curves leading up to an ass that I want to pull onto my face – then I realize it’s Jessie and look away. It’s fucking Jessie! My best friend’s little sister.
    Then I look back. She’s leaning over the bathroom sink, drinking water from the tap. I let my eyes go back to her ass. The jean shorts she’s wearing suddenly look like the hottest fucking thing I think I’ve ever seen a girl wear. Her shirt’s slipped up a little to the arch of her back, accentuating the curve from the feminine slightness of her waist down to her hips. I can’t help imagining what it would be like to take her from behind and— What the fuck am I thinking? But it’s like she’s someone else. Like she’s just another hot girl with an ass that’s begging for me. But it’s Jessie.
    I move over to the armchair in the corner opposite the bed and drop down into it. I take my shoes off, then my blazer, and lean back. She comes out of the bathroom and walks over to the bed. I can’t stop looking at her legs, then feeling ashamed, and then looking even harder. She unties her plaid shirt and throws it off, leaving just the t-shirt on. It tightly hugs her breasts, and I see she’s not wearing a bra. I go dizzy from watching her tits bounce when she slumps back onto the bed.
    “I’m so fucking wasted,” she says, laughing softly. She rolls her head to the side and looks at me, smiling. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”
    “This is my drunk face,” is all I can manage to say. It sounds better than, ‘I’m trying to not fuck you.’
    She keeps looking at me, then suddenly sits up on the edge of the bed, a mischievous grin on her face.
    “You’re fucking hard!”
    “What?”
    She points in the general direction of my crotch. “You’re fucking hard! I can see it!”
    “I’m not hard,” I say, standing up, which only makes the fact I’m about as hard as I can get even more obvious.
    “Yes you are!” Jessie says, moving toward me and reaching out clumsily for my cock. She fumbles her hand over it, and my reactions are way too slow to jump back, leaving us standing there, inches apart, her hand clutching my rock-hard erection through my pants.
    “Uh. Guess I am.”
    I put my hand over hers, but I don’t have the willpower to pull her away. Her smile drops, she bites her lower lip, and her eyes dilate as she looks up at me. Everything comes zooming into sharp focus. I can hear her breathing and my own, feel the heat that’s radiating off her. It’s as if time stops for a few seconds. We’re thinking the same thing.
    This is wrong for so many reasons. It’s wrong because we’ve grown up together as friends. It’s wrong because her overprotective brother (who also happens to be my short-tempered best friend) would go fucking crazy. It’s wrong because she’s a sassy-mouthed costume artist who doesn’t take any shit, and I’m a smart-talking talent agent who trades in bullshit. It’s wrong because this one single act could ruin so many of the best things in both of our lives.
    But the fact remains, we’re alone in a hotel, she’s wearing jean shorts that are driving me crazy, and I’ve got a hard-on that could drill granite – all the wrong in the world isn’t going to stop the inevitable from happening.

    * * *
    I wake up feeling like my head’s been dried, roasted, and half-chewed by the neighborhood dog. My tongue feels like it’s growing its own beard, and there’s an uneasy feeling I might never know which way