I head into my dressing room and I spend a little while looking in the mirror. I know the green room will be full of people I can spend time with. They’ll offer me stuff, maybe drugs, maybe alcohol, whatever. They’ll want to make me happy, even if it’s all fake.
But I don’t want any of that. There’s only one person that I know won’t be fake about it.
I step out into the hall and before I can get mobbed, I lock eyes with Graham. He’s hanging around nearby, watching the people that walk past my room.
“Come here,” I say to him.
He nods once, face betraying nothing as he crosses the hall and slips into my room.
I shut the door behind us and turn on him.
“Why are you such an asshole?” I ask.
He leans up against the dressing table. “I’m not sure,” he says.
That knocks me off balance but I don’t quit. “You didn’t need to tease me like that just before going out there, you know.”
“Did I get in your head?”
“Yes, asshole. Okay? Are you happy?”
“A little bit,” he admits. “I like that I can get in your head.”
“Oh, screw you. Is that all this is, a game? You just want to mess with the famous girl? Get a little power?” I stalk toward him, getting angry now. “I bet that’s all this is. You just want a little power over the famous girl. You think that makes you such a big man.”
He’s smiling at me, head cocked, a look of surprise on his lips. But I’m angry now and on a roll.
“I’ve met guys like you, thinking you can just slip into my life and use me. You’ll tell all your friends about how you hooked up with that singer, what’s her name, the famous one. You’ll pretend like you don’t care anything about me. Is that all you are? Just another, just another, just another fucking leech?”
He stands up suddenly and grabs my wrist. I gasp in surprise, stumbling backwards as he pushes me back against the wall. He pins my wrists up above my head, first my right, then my left.
“You think that’s why I’m here?” he whispers in my ear.
“Screw you, asshole,” I say, struggling, but he holds me tight.
“No,” he says gently. “I don’t want to use you, little princess. I don’t want to tell anyone about you. I want you all to myself.”
I meet his gaze, anger still there, but starting to fade.
“What do you want then?” I ask him, almost pleading.
“I told you, little princess. You float through the world like nothing can touch you, but that’s not what you need. I want to give you even more.”
“I don’t want more,” I whisper.
“Liar.” He smirks and bites my bottom lip, just enough to hurt.
“Asshole,” I grunt at him, struggling again, but he’s like iron in front of me.
“You want me to let you go? I’ll let you go, just say the word. That’s not what you want, though. You want to piss me off so that I’ll take you, here and now.”
“Take me?” I whisper.
“Fuck your tight little princess cunt. I’ve been teasing you, nice to you, but you don’t want nice anymore.”
“Fuck you. You don’t know what I want.”
He kisses me hard, almost enough to hurt. He bites my lip and tightens his grip on my wrists as he kisses my neck. I gasp as his leg comes up between my legs, pushing up against my pussy, and I can’t help myself.
I grind down against his thigh, panting softly.
Oh, god. Pleasure floods through me. I fight to keep the anger, struggling against him again, but I don’t tell him to let me go. I don’t want him to let me go. I want him to keep me there, pinned against that wall, hands on my wrists. I don’t want him to be gentle with me like everyone else.
He kisses me hard as I roll my hips against his thigh. I’m still wearing the dress from the show and there’s nothing put a pair of black panties between his jeans and my soaking wet pussy. He grunts and kisses my neck, lips lingering as I roll my hips again.
“You think this is supposed to hurt me?” I gasp at him. “You think you’re so strong? I’m half your size.”
His eyes are hot fire now, half anger, half desire. He releases my right wrist and he grabs my hair hard. I gasp, grabbing the back of his neck, grinding down harder against his leg.
“Get off it, princess. You’re so great and famous, but look at you now. Grinding your wet cunt against my leg like you can’t get enough.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, grinding down harder, shaking and sweating. I can’t tell if I’m out of breath from the show or from the pleasure blooming all through me.