Flashbulbs stung my vision amid the surging clamour of paparazzi calling her name as she strode from the premier along the red carpet towards me and the limousine. An effortless flick of russet hair above the straps of the crimson bodycon dress brushed off the reporters like tiresome mosquitoes. I swung open the rear door for her to enter.

"You," she addressed me, peeling off her Saint Laurent sunglasses, piercing chestnut eyes almost predatory. "Ride with me."

It wasn't a question. Never was. Holly said jump, you asked how high, because orbiting her vapid bubble of influence was beyond lucrative. I signalled Todd in the shadow car, climbed in after her and settled opposite, shutting out the media throng beyond the tinted windows.

She lounged against the cream leather interior that ran the full width of the car, crossing slender thighs with languid grace. My first mistake was acknowledging the theatrical gesture, glancing at the magnetic, if fleeting, gap that formed, imagination sparked. A vacuous harlot she may be, but there was no denying her incredible allure.

"Hotel," she called over my shoulder.

Gareth dutifully indicated, pulled away from the kerb and raised the privacy screen as she raked blood-polished nails through her tresses, scowling at the diminishing reporters. "Fucking parasites."

She caught my smirk before I had time to hide it.

"What?!"

I briefly glanced away. "Nothing."

Her stare penetrated me, x-raying before a steady smile grew. "Of course. You think it's all about," she finger-quoted, "reputation?" I stayed quiet as she tilted her head a fraction. "All column inches and Daddy's money, righ'?" The Estuary affectation briefly faded, giving away her roots. She'd been born just north of the capital, yet raised within its tractor beam long enough to know how to abuse the glottal stop for effect.

"No," I lied. "I was actually wondering why I'm in here."

The low sunlight flickering through the buildings beyond the car caught her lip-gloss. I focused on the sparkling façade and the shimmering fullness beneath, considering their story. How many men they'd kissed. How many cocks they'd engulfed, her mouth stretched wide, gagging and coughing on each fat prick as if it was her last meal. I'd decided long ago they were champion cock-teasing lips; succulent and inviting with a high upper arch. Mesmerising. It was only their movement that broke me from the trance. "Drink? Make mine a neat Scotch."

I nodded, reaching to the opposite side of the interior and upending two tumblers from the crisp, illuminated bar that spanned half the length of the cabin. Eyeing her, I unscrewed the bottle cap and poured a pair of healthy slugs, handing one across. She held it up. "To the parasites." We clinked glasses.

The heat of the liquid chased down my insides, almost glowing as it snaked its way to my belly. Sinking hers with a fluid tip of her head, she passed the tumbler back for me to stow and we let the silence drift as the alcohol diffused.

Holly took longer re-crossing her legs the other way. Much longer. Smoothed the dress in the process, likely a conscious effort to draw attention to the way her trim thighs disappeared beneath. It worked.

She cast her gaze up and down my Saville Row suit. "Do I intimidate you, Wes?"

I scoffed. "Is that a trick question? You pay my salary." She didn't respond. Just swayed when Gareth overtook a Range Rover, the dirty fringes of inner London noiselessly slipping by. I breathed out hard. "I read the news."

That amused her. "Believe everything you read?"

I found my gaze sliding from designer heels up the form-hugging fabric to the swell of her breasts and delicate throat supporting the sparkling five-figure necklace. "Should I?"

Tabloid stories of the coke-snorting nymphomaniac seemed well-founded given the string of men that graced her door. As if augmenting the evidence she sensed flashing through my mind, Holly uncrossed her thighs once more, feet remaining apart. Turquoise panties were perched atop alabaster thighs. "It's sensationalised."

"Of course."

She pouted. "I'm not the bitch they claim. I just have tastes that are often… misinterpreted."

"Your business, not mine."

She nodded like one of those dash ornaments. One foot slid across, instep working up my shin. Crept higher to my knee. Inward, upward, pushing my thighs apart, her heeled sole pressing to my rising manhood. A low growl formed in her throat. "Sure about that?"

I fought the urge to react as her brazenness unfolded. Flicked my focus. Legs, panties, dress, tits… tits… tits, eyes. I swallowed and braced my foot to the floor as the car made a left. "Do you always get your way?"

Her gaze undressed me in the same manner I had her. Slow and deliberate. We both knew she didn't need to answer.

I took in the same formidable, unflinching beauty I saw every day. The seductive power. The magnetism. Easy to see how men crumbled. Yet there was something new. Something different. Conflict. A disconnect between the lewd actions and unfulfilled spark behind her eyes, begging to be fused. I tipped my head. "Does it bother you?"

A half smile formed. Coquettish. Playful as she stroked the lobe alongside a diamond earring. "You don't strike me as the sort of man fooled by status." Dragging the forefinger across her cheek and down to traverse a nipple that stood to attention beneath the taut fabric, I could almost sense the sparks arcing from the rising cap to electrify her fingertip. "You look like the kind of man who takes what he wants."

A lump surfaced in my throat to rival the one in my underwear, and I swallowed again, desperately trying – and failing – to avoid staring at the path of her hand. She knew, lazily trailing the swell of her chest to her belly, then drawing a line to her lap accompanied by an intake of breath, "And that-" She scratched a nail over the surface of her knickers before pressing to form a wet spot amid her breathy exhalation, "-that bothers me."

The atmosphere crackled. Holly's foot massaged my twitching steel, primed to burst from the charcoal suit, circling and grinding against me in sync with the fingertip on her knickers. She tickled the surface of her panties with the polished nail tip, working her way up to where her clit was encased. Drew another sharp breath at the touch. I surged against her insistent foot massage.

Every atom of Holly was bad news, of that I was certain. She epitomised all that was wrong with trash celebrity; constant take take take, reality TV, books, movies, Christmas light switch-ons, everything and anything for attention. And yet, alone in the limo, away from the cameras and the spotlight, a human quality I'd rarely witnessed bubbled under the surface. A vulnerability that turned me on.

I fought to resist, but yearned to devour the growing wet patch. To take advantage of that chink in her perfection. Feel her legs wrapping my head as she spasmed and clutched at my buzz cut. I craved to own her. Score one for the common man and fuck some sense into her. Demonstrate just how she affected me every damn day I had to open doors for her, and make sure she was safe.

Our eyes locked, hers drilling into mine. Daring me to break the divide. To cross no-man's land. My body quivered and I battled to control it. Knew it was wrong, but I wanted to take away her power, even for an instant. See what she'd do. How she'd react.

She circled wetness on the surface of her underwear. Teasing. A tiny sigh escaped beyond her lip-gloss. Every second I was under her spell ground me down. Ratcheted desire I had to fight, yet it coursed my veins unchecked. Hundreds of thoughts bombarded me, each of them filtering through cracks in my brain. Infecting my judgement. Every impulse began where her foot played and every neuron carried an imprint of her insistent fingering.

The car eased to a stop at a set of lights. Holly's eyes widened a fraction, lips parting. A hunger matching mine burned in her gaze that drifted to the obvious tent in my suit trousers.

Her focus remained there long enough for me to snap.

The surge overtook my body, surprising me with its power, consuming every fibre on its way to burst from me. I pounced. Grabbed her ankle from my lap and flung it aside, lurching into the scissored gap to jam one knee against her damp panties as my hand snaked her curves to zero in on her throat.

My face an inch above hers registered her eyes flashing. Surprise, perhaps. But unbridled need was greater. Our lips crushed and I took her breath, tongues lancing. She tasted of alcohol and strawberry and wicked desperation.

Her hot pussy ground hard against my leg, hands scrabbling at my belt and zipper, freeing my turgid prick while I tightened my grip above the necklace. The need to mark her, to show everyone she was fallible, wasn't a conscious decision; it was base. I just squeezed as we both gasped into the kiss, her fingers encasing my length to begin pumping.

Holly picked up speed as the car did. Wanked me with dogged intent, the heat of her hand delicious in the cooler air-conditioned interior. Gliding her palm over the stiff mushroom head smeared pre-come that she transferred to the shaft, slicking back and forth, up and down, the purr of the engine the only other sound.

The kiss turned wild, all tongues and lips and teeth and moans. My free hand clawed the straps of her dress, yanking the front down to expose her glorious tits. I massaged each doughy orb in turn, her groans into my mouth spurring me on. I wasn't gentle. Worked my way up to pinch her firm caps until she broke free of the kiss, saliva looping between us, our eyes targeted on each other. For a moment I thought she was going to stop me but she instead snarled, "Bite them."

Keeping my fingers locked around her throat, I dove to engulf a stiff cherry between my lips. Sucked hard as she rolled her head back and let me take her over. Clamping my teeth, I gritted them and tugged away from her body until the nipple slipped free. Her head snapped downward, chin against her chest. "Don't play with them," she spat. "I said bite."

Covering the less pink of the two nipples, I clenched my jaw and rolled my teeth, pulling the hard bud away from her body harder this time. Holly hissed, "Yesss. Make it sting."

I bit again. Alternated from breast to breast as she thrashed against the leather, possessed. When I stopped, she was breathless.

Bringing my hand up I hovered it over one distended peak and delivered a sharp spank to her nipple. Holly jerked against me and cussed, eyes blazing as I repeated the punishment time and again, perhaps hollow retribution for the hordes of men who had been used by her and tossed away, but she deserved it.

Slithering my hand to invade the waistband of her underwear, an incredible wetness greeted my fingers. I curled inside easily as she groaned, bucking against my palm crushed between knee and electrified clit.

Fuck, she was unreal. Raw. Deadly. Her hot hand returned to rhythmically jack my shaft, angling it to her centre, wanting and needing every inch.

Spreading my legs forced hers further apart. Desire raged as I withdrew my digits, shoved her panties aside and drove my cock into her dripping snatch.

She let me take her, gasping and groaning in equal measure. My juice-laden fingers slid to fill her mouth, silencing her as I hammered between her drenched walls without finesse, the slaps and sighs of our bodies absorbed by the plush leather.

Through gritted teeth, I snarled in her ear, "Fucking take it, you dirty bitch," pounding inside her impossible heat.

She sucked and bit my fingers until I withdrew them from her grasping lips. Her tone was insistent. Edgy. "Yeah, make me yours, Wes. Own me."

Her eyes implored more and rolled back in her skull as I brought both my hands to clamp her neck, strong pulse thundering past my thumbs tucked against her chin. Wetness tumbled from her velvety channel around my plunging girth to drench the seat.

Holly's nails clawed and dug at the back of my suit jacket, pulling me into her, desperately clutching to drag every ounce of energy from the ferocious fuck. I gave her everything I had, each savage shove into her sugary insides unleashing dark lust and rage and pent-up frustration at being treated as her bitch for nearly two years. At her beck and call, fetching, carrying, being nothing but dust in her stardom trail.

I thrust hard against her body, loving the way her tits bounced with each hammered stroke. Took satisfaction in watching her eyes glazing over, perhaps drifting in and out of ecstasy, gradually coming undone until her entire frame shook.

Breathless groans spilled into the cabin as her mouth dropped open, she stiffened and a surge of release rose in my hips. I boiled over to paint her seizing insides with thick slashes of milky come that rocketed deep as the car sliced through outer London, our bodies sweaty and entwined within its purring cocoon.

Releasing her neck, I slumped my elbows either side of the headrest, drained and joined to her, allowing our pulses to slow as her breath condensed on my cheek.

When I pulled up a fraction, her eyes gazed up, burning bright into mine. Alive. Almost dancing, satisfaction spreading like melted butter, her grin twisting up at the corners. I shivered as the glint in her eye registered, and my stomach tanked.

With my cock idly spasming at each ripple of her pussy walls, I realised my second mistake: believing she was vulnerable. It was all a damn act. She'd played me. Used me as her pawn, her next acquisition, drawing me into yet another of her twisted games.

Exhaling, long and hard, I pushed back into my seat and zipped up as she rearranged herself, trapping my come on the wrong side of her panties.

I sat fuming, staring out the window at being so gullible before returning my focus to her. "Does this," I waved my forefinger back and forth in the space between us, "represent your tastes or can it be… misinterpreted?"

She tipped her head, artfully mussing her hair and delicately brushing the finger marks on her neck. "Don't feel bad, Wes. You're exactly what I needed today, thank you."

I swallowed as she crossed her legs, hiding the stain I'd put there.

Returning my gaze through the window, we rode the remainder of the short journey in silence. The sun flashed between skyscrapers, slithering lower in the sky to bathe London in a gritty orange hue until Gareth pulled off the dual carriageway towards the hotel. He drifted us to a halt alongside the canopied reception entrance and I was out of my seat almost before the vehicle stopped, opening the door and standing aside to let her exit. I scanned for trouble from any members of the public or paparazzi. The car park was less than half full. No people. No threat.

She climbed out, breezing past me before pausing and turning. Our eyes met, barely three feet between us. "Wes, can you handle check-in for me?"

I nodded. Said nothing.

"Thanks. And-" She took a step towards me and lowered her voice. "If I need you to… represent my tastes later…"

As Todd glided in to idle behind the limo, she spun and strutted up the shallow steps, all curves and promise, leaving the statement hanging.

I sighed, slammed the car door and followed towards my third mistake. Holly always got her fucking way.