The 7: Greed Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  BLURB

  DEDICATION

  GREED

  THE SERIES

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ALSO BY GERI

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The 7: Greed

  © 2017 Geri Glenn

  Cover art by Jessica Hildreth Designs

  Edited by Dana Hook at Rebel Edit & Design

  Formatting by Max Henry

  All rights reserved

  Greed is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

  This book, or any portion thereof, may not be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  He swoops in like a fantasy and steals my heart, but his insatiable greed will ruin us both.

  DEDICATION

  To Daryl Dixon; because I love you and I think we should be married.

  We’ve all heard the stories. Shy, innocent, but beautiful woman meets the handsome, jaded, but good inside billionaire with a heart of gold. Some drama follows, and lots of steamy sex before lo and behold, shy girl saves his jaded soul and makes him whole again. And they live happily ever after.

  Yeah, that one. There are millions just like it.

  But what if they’re not all like that? I mean, those stories are great for a weekend read, but they’re fiction.

  My story is not fiction. My story is as real as it gets. I’m far from a shy, innocent girl, and there was no saving the jaded soul of the billionaire that swept me off my feet, because my billionaire had let greed drive him to the brink of insanity.

  Six months earlier…

  “Cut!”

  The director’s shout catches me off guard. Seriously? Cut? I look up at Ricky—who is thrusting his cock in and out of me like a sexy jackrabbit—and make a face. His jaw tenses, and his ruddy cheeks get even redder as he pulls out and sits back on his feet.

  Sitting up, I look over to Jeff, our director. “What the hell?”

  It’s unusual for a director to yell cut in the middle of a porn shoot, and it’s especially frustrating when I was so goddamn close to coming. My clit throbs between my slick folds, and I want more than anything to reach down and rub it, relieving what is slowly turning into a painful arousal.

  It’s rare for me to come on camera, but I make it work. I can fake it like a pro, but Ricky is good with his cock. And his tongue. We’ve also been at this for more than two hours, so to say I’m annoyed by this little impromptu break is putting it mildly.

  “Sorry, Alex,” Jeff says. “Just got a call from security that Mr. Reese is on his way up, and he wants to see the shoot in progress.”

  Ricky groans. “Seriously?” His hand comes down to slowly stroke his cock, his face twisted with the effort to keep it hard so we can start right up again.

  There are times I feel kind of bad for the men in the adult film industry. It’s easy for us women. We don’t have to be aroused to look like we’re enjoying ourselves. Most of us rarely are, but we’ve mastered the art of acting to the point where nobody would ever know. Not even our scene partners. Men, though? It’s kind of hard to act an erection.

  I squeeze my legs together, the burn of my clit and my ragged breathing taking their toll on my body. I need to cum.

  A flurry of motion erupts down the hall and my orgasm is forgotten as the man walks into the room, followed by a woman with a notepad, pen, and a pinched face. His eyes meet mine as he nears and I sit there, frozen, unable to look away from his steely gaze. He doesn’t look away from me as he lifts a hand to Jeff and says, “Proceed.”

  “All right, Alex and Ricky, from where we left off.”

  Jeff’s words fall on deaf ears while I stare at Maxwell Reese, one of the richest men in the world, and the owner of the adult film company that had recruited me away from my previous employer just three months ago. I’d never seen him in person before, just pictures on the internet. He’s taller than I expected, and even more beautiful in person. His face is hard and angular, as if chiselled from the finest stone.

  “Alex,” Ricky whispers from above me, his cock in his hand, ready to thrust into me. “Lay down, baby.”

  I force my gaze from Reese to Ricky, and slowly lower myself back onto the bed. His hands land on the backs of my thighs, just like before, and he opens me wide; my feet touching the sky, the cool air of the room hitting my swollen clit.

  I can feel Reese’s gaze on my skin, like a caress, as Ricky positions his cock at my aching entrance. I can’t help it when my eyes drift back in Reese’s direction. Our eyes are locked together as Ricky pushes himself back inside, filling me, making me scream in pleasure and relief as he thrusts his massive cock in and out. His soft curls rub against my clit, bringing the burn to a full-blown flame.

  Everyone else in the room disappears. It’s just me and Maxwell Reese, and my fast-rushing climax. His jaw tightens, and I don’t miss the twitch of his dick in his pants as I pant and moan. My body writhes on the mattress, reaching for the release I so desperately need. When a thumb meets my clit, it hits me. I scream out in pleasure, the cock that is fucking me dragging out my orgasm as I stare into Reese’s eyes.

  His nostrils flare out, and I watch the touch of red creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his perfectly pressed dress shirt as he watches me come.

  “Fuck, yes!” Ricky groans and quickly pulls out, his own cum spurting across my belly in warm, sticky drops, reminding me that he’s here, and that it’s not Reese fucking me. My chest heaves, my nipples tight as I rip my gaze away from the billionaire in the corner and remind myself that I’m working.

  Biting my lip, I put on a show for the camera, looking up at Ricky from beneath my lashes as I reach down and grasp his still spurting dick with both hands. I slide them up his slick length and swipe away the last of his cum with my thumb before bringing it to my mouth.

  I’ve never been one to enjoy the taste of cum, but I don’t let it show as I suck it from the tip and smile up at him with a wicked grin. His mouth meets mine in a clash of teeth and tongue, and we kiss like that until Jeff calls out, “And scene!”

  Ricky pulls away and grins at me, pleased with himself as he holds out his hand to help me sit up.

  “Good job, guys,” Jeff calls out, already focusing on the camera and scrolling through the footage we’d just gotten. I glance back toward Reese, only to see his back disappearing through the door, his assistant close on his heels. What the hell just happened?

  ***

  I drive home that afternoon in a daze. The memory of Maxwell Reese’s steely blue eyes boring into me as I’d climaxed plays over and over again in my mind. Even though I’d never met him before, the way he had stared at me, and the way that made me feel, was like he himself was fucking me, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from my body. Claiming me.

  Pulling the car to a stop in my driveway, I rest my head on the steering wheel and take a deep, cleansing breath. Come on, Alex. Get it together. Reese has no interest in you, other than how much money you can make him while you fuck other men.

  I sigh a little as I push the door of my car open and head toward my front door. Inside, the cool air is a stark contrast against my heated skin. I love my house. It’s a three-bedroom bungalow on the outskirts of town, complete with a wooded back yard, and a gorgeously landscaped, kidney shaped in-ground pool. I’d
paid for it in full last year, after getting payment for my third film.

  Being a porn star was never something I had dreamt of being. I don’t think any little girl grows up with dreams of being the fantasy of masturbating men everywhere. It had happened out of the blue, and the career choice to give it a shot had changed my life.

  I came from a quiet family in rural Nebraska. My mother and father were active in their church, and my brother grew up to be a pastor of a church that he himself built. My childhood was filled with family dinners, strict rules, and Sunday school lessons.

  The problems between me and the rest of my family started when I was about sixteen. I stopped attending church and started dating, much to my parent’s dismay. They wanted me to wait until I was eighteen. They wanted me to meet a boy from church. In fact, they’d already had one in mind that they thought would be perfect for me.

  I rebelled, big time. I dated who I wanted, when I wanted. I paid no attention to curfews or rules if I thought they were unfair. I partied, I drank, and I had sex way too young. I lived. I loved my parents, but they focused all of their time and energy living for a deity that I didn’t even believe in. To me, that was foolish.

  When I was eighteen, my father had had enough. He’d handed me five hundred dollars and a suitcase full of my belongings, and dropped me off at the bus station. He told me to go, to live my life of sin somewhere they didn’t have to watch me do it. So, I left.

  I haven’t spoken to my parents since that day. My brother managed to track me down on social media last year. We talk on the phone from time to time, and we’ve seen each other once, but I know he’s only interested in saving my soul. It’s his way of loving me, and I respect that, as much as I don’t understand it.

  After the five hundred dollars my father had given me ran out, I’d already made it to Los Angeles. I had tried waitressing, but even with the tips, I was barely able to pay for the sleazy motel room I was staying in. I turned to stripping, which was where I ended up making my money.

  The way I felt when I danced in front of all those men, slowly peeling off one article of clothing at a time, was empowering. As a society, we’re taught to believe that strippers are the lowest of the low. I guess in a way, some of them are, but in my mind, most of those women are the strongest I have ever met.

  They are sexual beings, in touch with their sexuality, and proud of their bodies. They live in a world where women are raised to believe that sex is naughty. Secret. Those women buck the system and do what they want, and sometimes, what they have to do to get by.

  I was dancing onstage the night the producer from a local porn company came in. He kept the dollar bills coming, and though I had no clue who he was at the time, I paid him some extra attention, performing some of my best moves directly in front of him.

  At the end of the night, he’d approached me and offered me a role in one of his films. I wasn’t interested at first, and then he told me I’d make twenty-five hundred dollars, just to have sex with a man, who from the pictures he showed me, was very attractive.

  That was the end of my stripping career. I know how people look at girls like me. They think we’re trash—broken. They assume that most of us are victims of abuse of some kind or another. But they’re wrong.

  Every single person on this planet has their kinks. Mine just happens to be sex in a public forum. It makes me feel powerful, beautiful, and sexy. I’ve found a way to explore my preferred sexual appetite in a place that’s safe, totally legal, and consensual for everyone involved. Plus, if I continue to invest my money the way I have been, I won’t have to work any job for the rest of my life, leaving me more time to do the things I enjoy.

  I’ve been writing short stories since I was just a girl. My mother had read one once, when I was about fifteen, and instantly threw it into the fire. She then made me get on my knees and pray to God for forgiveness. Apparently, she didn’t approve of the dark romance genre. My dream has always been to publish one of my stories, but I’ve never been brave enough to submit one to a publisher.

  Shaking off the memories, I step out into my back yard and strip away my clothes. As I approach the edge of the pool, I brace for the cool water on my naked skin, and then I jump, erasing all thoughts of my parents, Lush Studios, and Maxwell Reese from my mind.

  ***

  “Why does she get the lead in this one?”

  It takes everything I have in me not to roll my eyes at Kendra’s whiney protest. Jeff isn’t so kind. “Because she’s good at her fucking job, and Reese wants it this way. I suggest, if you want to keep your own part in the next shoot, you get your ass to makeup and get ready.”

  I’d like to say I’ve never seen a grown woman stomp out of a room in a huff worthy of any five-year-old, but if I did, I’d be lying. I’ve worked with Kendra on five other shoots since coming to Lush Studios, and she has been a world-class brat on each one of them.

  “Don’t worry about her, Alex,” Jeff says, taking me by the arm and leading me away from the others. “She’s old news and she fucking knows it. You got this.”

  I like Jeff. He’s as much of a father figure to me as a man can be that makes his living filming you during sex. I don’t run in the same circles as the other people from Lush. I don’t go to the parties or do drugs like the rest of them. I come to work, do my job, and go home to unfinished manuscripts I’ve been working on for two years. I can’t stomach the arrogance and pride my co-workers all seem to have.

  “Reese asked for you specifically on this shoot. Any idea why?”

  My eyes widen at that revelation. “No. I’d never even laid eyes on him before the other day when he was in.”

  Jeff sighs and shakes his head. “That’s what I figured.” His eyes meet mine, a message I don’t understand shining through. “Just…be careful with him.”

  He turns and walks away, leaving nothing but question marks in his wake. Be careful? Of what? And why had Reese asked for me specifically? So many questions, but I don’t have time to mull them over, because Jeff calls everyone on-set to begin.

  In this little scenario, I play the part of a car dealer. I’m not sure how Jeff got access to the private lot we’re using for location, but as I walk out on-set, I can’t help but admire the high-end, hundred thousand dollar cars surrounding me. I put a little sway in my hips as I move, dragging my fingertip slowly across the hood of the charcoal painted, two million dollar Bugatti Chiron in the center of it all.

  Jesus. This car alone could feed a starving country in Africa for an entire year. It is beautiful, though. It’s sleek lines and rounded body are sex in car form, and I don’t have to fake it when I sink my teeth into my lip in admiration.

  “That’s perfect, Alex,” Jeff calls out. “Now touch yourself.”

  I slowly run my hands up my body and caress my full breasts. Letting my eyes fall closed, I do what I always do and drift away. I allow my body to take the lead, and attempt to wash away the reality of the crew standing around me with lights and cameras, and giant microphone booms hanging over my head.

  Resting one hand on the side of the car, I drag the other one down my body, and slowly pull up my knee-length, black pencil skirt. Before I get a chance to show the whisper-thin lace panties I’m wearing, Shawn enters the set.

  “Beautiful,” he says, his voice already raspy with need.

  I spin around, as if startled, being sure to exaggerate my open mouth while keeping my hand just under my skirt as I cry out, “Oh!”

  I can already see the bulge in Shawn’s pants as it grows. Figures he’d have to take something beforehand to get himself hard. It seemed all the guys did these days. A hazard of the job, I guess. Pulling my hand away, I smile seductively. “Can I help you with something?”

  His answering grin is wolfish. “I’m interested in this one,” he says, indicating the car behind me. “What can you tell me about it?”

  “This lovely lady here?” I ask, placing a hand just in front of the windshield, stroking the cool metal ho
od. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is,” he murmurs.

  I shoot him a coy smile over my shoulder and say the last of my rehearsed lines. “This is a 2017 Bugatti Chiron. She’s fully loaded.” I allow the tip of my tongue to come out and drag it across my lower lip. “She’s the sexiest car on the lot.”

  Shawn’s hand comes down to grasp his cock over the well-fitted pants of his suit. “What makes her sexy?”

  I cock my head to the side and keep my eyes focused on where his hand is working his cock. I stare for a moment, being sure to increase my breathing as I watch, playing up the turned-on sex kitten act for the camera.

  “Look at the beauty of it,” I say, walking toward him, a single fingertip dragging along the side of the vehicle. “Look at the way the sleek metal flows and bends around the vehicle seamlessly. It’s seductive.”

  Shawn takes a step toward me and grasps my hips, yanking me to him. “I’m not convinced,” he says. “I want to see how you bend around the vehicle.”

  I stare back at him a moment, then lean forward onto the tips of my toes to drag my nose across the corded muscle of his neck. His hands come down, cupping my ass as I press my lips to his pulse and nip his skin with my teeth. “Let me see if I can convince you then,” I tease.

  Jeff rarely plots out the sex in his films. We have a set scene that leads up to it, but after that, the actors take the lead, usually ending up in a more authentic encounter. Not knowing what’s coming goes a long way toward getting my body where it needs to be to do my job.

  As Shawn’s hands come up to thumb my nipples through the thin fabric of my shirt, his mouth crashes onto mine. Already, I can feel wetness start to pool between my legs. I love sex. I’m a sexual person that enjoys the pleasures of the flesh, and I’m not ashamed to take exactly what I need from a man, whether I know him or not. Doing porn has allowed me to do that in a safe environment, free from STDs and dangerous men, because everyone, including me, are thoroughly tested and looked into before ever setting foot onto a shoot.