Filmed: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(2)

By: B. B. Hamel

As much as I didn’t feel like it, my cock began to stir.

But I knew what she really wanted. It was the same thing every other girl before her had wanted, what they always wanted. She wanted a shot at my dad’s movies and at my money. She wanted to try and bleed me dry, and she was willing to put out as much as she needed to get it. She didn’t care about me or who I was, and for the most part, that suited me just fine.

I didn’t care about her, either.

She crawled forward and reached out, stroking my dick through my tight cotton briefs, her thick hair spilling down around her face in soft curls. Her full lips pouted, and another memory came flooding back: blondie moaning softly as she wrapped her lips around my hard cock.

I grunted again, grinning. I decided class could wait as she slowly slipped my briefs down and firmly grasped my dick in one hand, looking at it like it was the most important thing she had ever touched.

Maybe she did care about one part of me, at least.

Chapter One

It was not love at first sight. It was more like loathe.

In movies, the meet cute happens when the main girl meets the main boy, usually in some crazy circumstance that leaves them both reeling.

In the movies, the main guy is always handsome and charming, maybe slightly goofy, maybe emotionally immature, but always good at heart.

I didn’t live in the movies. Noah Carterson was not goofy, far from it. He was probably good at heart, although he kept that side of himself deeply hidden. He was definitely emotionally immature, and he loved to make sexual jokes at my expense. Above all though, his defining characteristic was one that the movies never showed.

He was an asshole of the first degree, with grinning blue eyes, perfectly groomed dark brown hair, and muscles in just the right proportion. He was a gorgeous asshole.

No matter how great the main guy in any decent rom-com was, Noah made all those awkward, skinny-tie wearing protagonists look like children by comparison. But in the movie that was actually my real life, instead of some immediate deep and impossible attraction between the leading man and the leading lady, I disliked Noah from the start, and didn’t want to get to know him one bit.

And yet, for some reason, I kept thinking back to our meet cute, and I wondered how it could have possibly led to everything that followed, including me struggling into unfamiliar clothes in one of the many rooms of his insane family home. I wondered how I ever got involved with a gorgeous jerk like Noah Carterson. I wracked my brain, replaying our meet cute over and over, and had no clue.

After a long summer, my best friend Chrissy and I were back on campus. We didn’t know where the good parties were yet, and besides, I wasn’t much of a partier anyway. Most people still hadn’t moved back onto campus, but we had an apartment with a lease that started early, so we moved in right away. It definitely beat living at home with my parents. I had known Chrissy since we were in high school; we grew up on the same block together, and we both decided Temple was the school we wanted to attend. It worked out perfectly.

Instead of wandering around for hours, we ended up in the student center looking for the movie theater. I had read online that they had built a brand new three-screen theater in the basement. Apparently, some rich movie producer donated a ton of cash to fund it.

“I have no clue what I’m doing, Chris,” I said as we turned the same corner and looked down the same hallway for maybe the hundredth time.

“I swear we’re walking in circles.” Chris was a smartass and gorgeous, with a short pixie haircut to go with her impeccable sense of style. Guys were forever chasing after her, but she barely seemed to care; Chrissy Planter, or “Chris” as most people called her, was going to be a famous brain surgeon one day, and she didn’t have time for distractions.

I was more or less the opposite of Chris. I had no real strong ambitions, at least not yet; the only thing I loved was old movies. I grew up with a cinephile professor mom, and she made sure that I had a solid foundation of the classics by the time I was ten. My dad was a minor poet, and he never got over the fact that I preferred movies to literature. Fortunately for him, my older sister was a novelist.

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