“I can’t believe the nerve of that asshole.” I rant, stomping up the stairs to my room, “Thinking he knows me after, what, like two minutes? Please.”

I knock open the door and stop dead in my tracks.

“Oh, Hell no.” I growl.

“Justin! Get you scrawny ass up here. Now!” I yell down the stairs.

I hear the back screen door slam shut followed by his foot steps and then I see him at the bottom of the stairs with that cocky ass smile of his.

“Is there a problem, Maddy?”

“My name in Madison and yes there is a problem. Your shit is in my room.”

“Well, Maddy, The way I see it. That is my room and you can have the one down the hall. You see I paid for this house for two weeks and your just mooching off your parents, running away from something.”

I scoff, “What makes you think I’m running away from something?”

“Well, one, you came here without even telling your parents. Two, you seem to have a grudge against men so I’m assuming you either just broke up with someone or your still with the dickhead that put that frown on your face and your taking a break.”

I want to scream. Who does this guy think he is? He keeps trying to figure me out, but why? I mean, why does he even care about why I’m here. Maybe the real question is why do I care that he cares why I’m here. Wow that was a lot of whys…

“Well then, what are you running away from?”

“So I was right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So your saying your not running away from something?”

I sigh, “I didn’t say that either.”

He walks up the stairs, stopping in front of me, “Let’s just say we’re both running away from something and call it good.”

“Fine.”

“But I’m not moving my stuff.” I was about to protest, but he cut me off, “You’re more than willing to stay in the room with me, but I’m not moving.”

“You are unbelievable.” I say, throwing my hands in the air in frustration.

“You got one thing right today.” He winks at me, then walks into my room, plopping down on the bed. I watch him tuck his hands under his head while he crosses his legs at his ankles and he’s just staring at me with his annoyingly sexy as hell cocky grin.

Christ, I can’t believe I just thought something about this sad excuse of a man was sexy.

Whoa, wait a minute.

Holy shit. He’s Justin Timberlake.

Why the hell is Justin Timberlake renting a beach house? Doesn’t he own like ten of them? I can’t fucking believe this, a fucking cocky ass pop star is renting my parents beach house and he’s laying in my bed.

Well fuck me sideways.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He says and my mouth flies open.

I said that out loud?

“How do you want it Maddy?” He asks and I’m so shocked I can’t even speak.

“Do you want to climb on or do you want me to do all the work?” He asks, winking at me again.

“Stop calling me Maddy.” I finally get out.

He laughs, “You’re avoiding my question, Maddy.”

“I don’t want it at all, Justin.”

He sits up, scooting down the bed before standing to walk over towards me, “You need to work on your lying darlin’. It’s not very convincing.”

“You have to be the cockiest bastard I’ve ever met.” I say, taking a step back from him. He grins, taking a step towards me, we go back and forth until my back hit’s the wall in the hallway across from my bedroom door.

“You got another thing right.” He says, placing his hands on my hips. I swat at them, but he holds tight, turning me around until my face is pressed against the wall. With his hands still on my hips, he leans forward running the tip of his nose up my neck, stopping at my ear.

“I think you need a good fucking. What do you think?” he whispers, nipping on my ear lobe.

He laughs against my neck, sending shivers down my spine, “You’re a horrible liar.” his hand slides from my hip slowly forward until he cups me through my bikini bottoms.

He moans against my neck, “You’re awfully wet for someone who doesn’t want to be fucked.”

Damn traitor pussy. “I guess when you haven’t had sex for over a year, it will get wet for anything.”

His middle finger gently strokes my clit through my bottoms, “So your saying if I was a four hundred pound, balding man with horrible body odor and no teeth, you’d still be wet because I touched you?”

I’m doing everything in my power not to moan from the feeling he’s sending through my body. The man has magic fingers, I swear. He’s not even touching the skin and I’m already on the verge of orgasm. This is a little unfair.

“Answer me Maddy.” He whispers in my ear, while his other hand slowly slides up my side to cup my breast through my Bikini top. “And don’t lie to me, because your body seems to be telling a different story.”

“No.”

“No, what Maddy?” He whispers in my ear.

“No, I wouldn’t still be wet.”

“So why are you so wet, Maddy?” He asks, just before sliding his fingers underneath my bottoms. My mouth opens in a small o as my head falls back against his shoulder.

“Come on Maddy. Tell me what made you so wet.”

I moan, “I did this didn’t I darlin’?”

“You’re completely full of yourself, you know that?”

He laughs, “You could be full of me too, Maddy.”

Oh boy, that did it. The flood gates have opened and I’m pretty positive I’ve just soaked his hand along with my thighs. I want, no I need, to be full of him and now.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, while I silently remind myself how to breath.

“I want you to tell me you don’t want this. Tell me to stop and I’ll walk away, but if you don’t. Believe me Maddy, I’ll have you screaming my name for hours.” He says, pulling his finger out from under my bikini bottoms, resting both of his hands on my hips again.

I can’t do this. I can’t be another man’s fuck toy. I feel like that’s the only kind of relationship I’ve been in lately and I can’t do it anymore. I’ve had it with men and their stupid outlook on sex and relationships. I know I’m stereotyping here, but why in the world would Justin Timberlake be any different than all the other men I’ve been with? I mean all you have to do is listen to him talk and you know he’s probably been with hundreds of random groupies, all of which probably talked his ego up just so they can go home and tell everyone they know, they slept with the Justin Timberlake.

Well, that’s not me and I’m not doing it. I refuse to be another notch on this pop stars belt.

“I don’t want this.” I say, quietly.

“That’s what I… Wait, what?”

I push him off me, sidestepping to get out of his reach, “I said, I don’t want this. I’ve been that girl for too long and I refuse to do it again. I’m done being the sex rag doll every man I’ve ever known has made me into. That’s why I’m here, to get away from all that and now you’re here making it impossible.” I sigh, biting my lower lip, “Please just leave me alone.” I turn to walk down to the guest bedroom, but he grabs my arm, turning me back towards him.

“Maybe we can help each other then.” He says, sighing.

Help each other? “What do you need help with?” I ask cautiously.

“Not doing what I just did.”

“What?” I ask confused.

“Can we go downstairs and talk?” He asks, looking more like a five year old child than a twenty something man. He looks so vulnerable, and curiosity got the best of me because I followed him into the living room, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“I’m here because my Lawyer thinks it’s my best option.”

Whoa, his lawyer sent him here? What is he like a serial killer and his lawyer thinks he can get him off because he’s rich and famous, so he sent him off to my parent’s beach house. I guess that explains why he’s not at one of his houses. It also scares the shit out of me. What is he hiding from?

“Your lawyer? Jesus, did you… No wait I don’t want to know, then I’d be like an accomplice or something right… Don’t tell me, just keep going.” I say, shaking my head.

“I didn’t rob a bank or anything, Maddy.” He says, chuckling to himself.

“I still don’t think you should tell me what you did. I mean if your lawyer sent you into hiding, whatever it is, can’t be good.”

“Well, it’s not like I’d go to jail over it, but my career is on the line.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “No jail time?”

“I think they would’ve pressed charges by now, even then I wouldn’t have to spend anytime in a jail cell.”

I’m confused again, “Wait, who could’ve pressed charges? And why?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know.” He says, smirking at me.

“Just tell me the story, Justin.”

He grins, “Ok, Maddy.”

“Stop calling me Maddy! My name is Madison.” I bark.

“I like the way Maddy rolls off my tongue better.” he says with a grin, but it quickly turns into a frown and curses under his breath, “See I can’t turn it off!”

I laugh out of confusion, “Turn what off?”

“I’m addicted to women. I can’t stop staring at them, touching them, fucking them. I don’t know how to turn it off. I mean three days ago I just about molested my boss‘ daughter. That and about 3 other women.”

“You’re addicted to women? Isn’t that like being a sex addict?”

“Not really, because I don’t need to have sex with a women to… get off and not in the way you’re thinking so stop.” He says with a knowing smile.

“Ok, then explain.” I say, shaking my head.

“I don’t even think I can.” He says, sighing, “I guess it’s like a high for me. I could stare at you for the rest of the day and I would get that feeling of pure bliss. It’s crazy, I know, but I’d rather watch a girl dance for an hour than be up on that stage doing what I love to do. It‘s weird, I mean just touching your arm is more affective to me then any drug I‘ve ever done before.” He bows his head, mumbling, “When did I get this fucked up?”

“I-Is it any… woman? Or do you have a type?” I ask, trying to figure out what is really going on with him.

He sits there in silence and I can almost here the wheels turning in his head, “Brunettes.”

“Brunettes? You only have a thing for brunettes? Umm, not to sound weird or crazy fan-ish, but weren’t you with numerous blondes over the years?”

He grins at me, “So you’re a fan?”

“Knock that shit off. I don’t live in a fucking hole. I know who you are and I’ve heard who you’ve been with.”

“You sure?” He asks, still grinning.

“Positive… Now, I know you’ve been with a lot of Blondes. When did the brunette thing happen?”

“When I met Cloie…”

“What? Who’s Cloie?” I ask, watching him pace in front of the couch.

“Cloie was my fiancé.” He says, dropping down next to me on the couch, lowering his head into his hands. “Why haven’t I ever thought of this before?”

“How? When? I mean… What the hell? You were engaged? When?”

He lifts his head to look at me, “Four years ago.”

“Wow… What happened?”

He turns his head to stare at the fireplace across the room in a daze, “I killed her.”