by D. Kelly
Just an Illusion
Unplugged
D. Kelly
Just an Illusion Unplugged
Copyright © 2018 D. Kelly
Editing by – Beyond DEF
Cover design by – Regina Wamba – Mae I Design and Photography - http://www.maeidesign.com
Formatting by – Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright
Original lyrics written by Dee Kelly
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information contact
Dee Kelly www.dkellyauthor.com
This book contains mature subject matter and is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity, sexual situations, and alcohol consumption.
ISBN: 9781641365222 (ebook)
Dee Kelly
P.O. Box 940123
Simi Valley, CA. 93094
Table of Contents
Books by D. Kelly
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Present Day Sawyer
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by D. Kelly
The Acceptance Series –
Breaking Kate – Book One
Catching Kate – Book 1.5
Releasing Kate- Book Two
Loving Kate – Book Three
Christmas with the Houstons – Book Four
Stand Alone Novels
Chasing Cassidy
Sharing Rylee
The Evolution of Us
The Last Resort Motel – Room 13 (April 2018)
The Illusion Series
Just an Illusion – Side A
Just an Illusion – The B Side
Just an Illusion – EP
Just an Illusion – Unplugged
Just an Illusion – Encore (Coming late summer 2018)
http://www.dkellyauthor.com/all-books
This one is for #TeamWeston. For all of you who miss Noah, for those who begged for more Sawyer, and for everyone who didn’t want to let go, this story is for you.
Warning –Unplugged is book four in The Illusion Series. If you have not read Side A, The B Side, or EP, please turn around and go back to Side A. Trust me, you want to read this series the way it was intended—in order.
P.S. If you proceed, you will see the symbol below as a page break. For those of you who are younger than I am and don’t recognize it – it’s a fast forward button. You may no longer see it on your musical equipment, but it still exists on your remote control. ;) When this symbol appears, it’s because you are about to skip ahead in time. Usually, it’s just a few hours or days, but it may also be weeks. I hope you all enjoy Unplugged!
“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”
― Ernest Hemingway
My name is Sawyer Weston. It used to be important to me that people knew who I was. Not because of my fame—no, this need for individuality came shortly after birth. All my life I’ve been the B side of a pair, my brother Noah was side A.
I’ve always been somewhat resentful being the second on a team of two. Often wondered how my life would be different if I’d been born first. Would I have been like Noah? Or would I still be me?
As kids, one of the things that annoyed us most was being dressed alike. Our parents thought it was funny and cute. God love them, it wasn’t funny. Cute? Maybe, but it was completely unnecessary for us since we’re not even identical twins.
Even though being a twin had its annoyances at times, I’d never trade it for the world. Twinship is incredible. There’s nothing like the love and bond of a sibling, except when it comes to the love of a twin. Being half of Noah and Sawyer was my entire life, almost like having an extra layer of skin. No one in the world knew me as completely as Noah did and vice versa.
At a young age, I began speaking up and making my identity distinct. I became the blunt one—the twin who didn’t give a fuck and did whatever made him happy. It worked for us. Noah and I balanced each other perfectly in most ways. Unfortunately, even though we looked different, our tastes in women were the same. We’d managed to avoid any problems until Marilyn came along, and things would have been fine if she hadn’t pitted us against each other. It took some work and a lot of forgiveness, but Noah and I recovered. Until I met her—the only woman who’d ever turned my world on its axis. She made me question everything I’d ever been and everything I wanted to become. But she fell for Noah’s goodness, and he loved her the way every woman deserves to be loved. It was a struggle for me in the beginning, but you’d have to be dead inside not to be drawn into the magic that was Mel and Noah’s romance.
After the accident happened, I was in agony. It felt as if that extra layer of skin was violently stripped from my body. All the years I’d spent pretending nothing fazed me came barreling back at me with a vengeance. Fate gave me the biggest “fuck you” when she stole Noah, Belle, and Harold from our world. Nothing had ever hurt so much or cut as deep as losing my brother. Losing your best friend isn’t something I’d wish on anyone, but losing a brother? I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on my worst enemy. There’s nothing that can prepare you for a loss of that magnitude, so when those two people are all rolled up into the form of your twin, it’s like losing a part of yourself.
The pain is so raw and visceral, the thought of death becomes appealing because you know, at least then, it will stop hurting. Whenever my thoughts turned to the dark side, I’d think of Nate and Mel; it kept me grounded. God knows Mel wasn’t in her right mind and, for a while, I was terrified she’d never recover. Everyone kept saying how lucky she was to be alive, but they had no idea the hell she’d lived through on that bus. It’s like they didn’t even consider the horror she endured each day as she relived the last moments of her best friend and husband. No one outside of our immediate family stopped to consider she was now a single parent who’d lost the love of her life. But I understood, and I swore I would move heaven and earth to bring Mel back to us. I owed it to us all to try. Keeping my last promise to Noah became my reason for living.
For as long as I can remember, Noah geeked out on planning ahead. The day we got our advances from our first recording deal, Noah had us in with a financial planner. That was Noah, and if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have nearly as much as I do now.
Considering his history, I shouldn’t have been surprised when our friend and attorney, Tony, showed up to Noah’s memorial with videos for us that Noah had made. But I was. I played it cool, but I was shattering on the inside as I held Mel and tried to comfort her. Realizing how fearful he was of his own death cut like a knife. I can’t imagine how much strength it took for him to make those videos, or how difficult it must have been for Tony to keep the knowledge privileged informa
tion. Noah had been talking about an ominous feeling he couldn’t shake, but he’d survived a potentially fatal attack. I thought it was stress, and the doctor thought it was a form of PTSD. Noah, with his unflappable belief in fate, knew there was more to it. I’ll never forgive myself for not paying more attention to his fears.
There was no way to truly prepare myself for Noah’s video, but I’d made peace with needing to see it. When I sat down and watched it, my world shifted in more ways than I can begin to explain. I cried for hours. The ache in my heart grew tenfold. Although it hurt more than words can describe, it was the most priceless gift I’d ever received. Having his love, forgiveness, and his wishes laid at my feet sent my mind reeling. It also stoked the simmering flames of desire inside me, sending them into a raging inferno. Every feeling I’d held back and felt guilty for was suddenly granted immunity. The timing was shitty, but the freedom from my unending guilt had the potential to be life-changing.
I’d always known Noah was the better brother, but that video secured his place in sainthood. If heaven actually exists, I know Noah’s got a top spot. His number-one request was for me to take care of Mel and Nate. Like he even had to ask.
Watching the video was overwhelming. Seeing Noah for the last time cemented the knowledge I’d never talk to him again. Sure, there are endless videos of him, us … we’re mega-celebrities. I can see Noah anytime I’d like, but I’ll never have his presence, his attention, or his love ever again, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.
We’d gone through some rough patches the past few years, and his video forced all those feelings to the surface. We tried to resolve our differences, but some things continued to linger unsaid between us. Marilyn, early retirement, and then, the heaviest of all by far … Mel. I’ve got so many regrets and no way to reconcile them.
Once the shock of the video wore off, I made a promise to try to stop hating myself for being the surviving twin. No matter how hard I wished I could trade my existence for Noah’s, it wasn’t happening. Instead, I made a few key choices. The first was to change my attitude. The best way for me to honor my relationship with my brother is to be thankful for every minute I had with him—the good, bad, ugly, and everything in between. I’d been given the best brother in the world, and I never want to forget a moment of our time together. The second choice was to keep journaling, not only to help me through the here and now but also to rewrite my past journals.
We had our ups and downs that last year, but our relationship flourished in a lot of ways as well. Even with all of our issues, we managed to grow and respect each other, and toward the end, I’d never felt closer to him. Realizing that is what made me decide to turn all my journal notes into a true story instead of the ramblings of a crazed musician.
I can list a few other reasons why I’m doing it too. I’m a selfish son of a bitch, and I’m absolutely doing it for my self-preservation—a way to always keep Noah alive and with me. My memory has always been one of my strengths, but one day it won’t be. Writing down our conversations is a way of always remembering my brother. If there ever comes a day when my memories fail me, my words will hopefully be here to refresh them. But I’m also doing it for Mel and Nate. Someday, when Nate is old enough, he should have some way he can learn more about his dad. He shouldn’t have to ask questions or depend solely on casual conversations to get to know Noah. He should be able to experience who his dad was, and a story or a video is second-best to the real thing.
Speaking of Princess … she’s always had questions. Even if she’s never voiced them all, I know they’re lingering in her mind. I thought if she read about all the things she missed, the conversations she never heard and how Noah felt about my feelings for her, maybe it would ease her heart a bit.
After she wrote her story, our story, I knew Nate would have a great point of reference on how his parents fell in love, all of them. I can’t wait until Nate’s old enough to truly understand what a wonderful love story Mel and Noah had. Even with the short amount of time they were given, I’ve never seen a love quite like theirs. Not up until that point anyway. And if Nate doesn’t hate me for falling in love with his mom, he’ll understand our story as well. I hope our words will fill a void for him. Just like I hope our words will also give Cadence a chance to learn more about Belle and how much she and Darren loved each other from the start.
Life can be a vicious bitch, and to this day I would lay down my life if it would bring Noah back. Kids shouldn’t have to grow up without their parents. But Noah believed in fate more than anything, and for his sake, I try to let go of my bitterness and anger. Even if I don’t understand how fate could have wanted this future for him, he seemed to accept it, and that makes him a far better man than I’ll ever be.
Some days, it’s a mindfuck and a half when I try to wrap my head around it all, even all these years later. If Noah hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have the love of my life or my kids. Mel, Nate, Noelle, and our two boys incubating in Mel’s belly now—they’re my everything.
Princess has been helping me with this project. She’s taking all of my journals and working through them with me each day. We’re making this journey together, one page at a time. Most of the time, she’s quiet as she takes it all in. Other times, she asks questions but not many. I wish she’d ask more; I know they’re waiting to come out, and I think they eventually will. She deserves answers, and she’s the only person in the world I’m an open book for. Well … her and Nate. When she offered to help me turn this into a book, I couldn’t refuse; it seemed important to her. The caveat is that it’s not for public consumption. She was more than okay with that. Mel’s focus is having it bound and covered so it can sit next to her books on the shelf. Whatever makes her happy is fine by me. All I care about are the memories contained within staying intact.
Now comes the hard part—getting it all out. I’ve decided to begin at the end for a few reasons. It’s fresher, it’s the most fucked up - but also the absolute best time of our lives, and it’s where all of our stories intersect. Later, I’ll go back and get the early stuff down, but right now, I need to write about Marilyn. In the scheme of things, she was an insignificant part of our lives. But when you look at the picture as a whole, she’s the reason Noah and I had our first falling out. All the early decisions I made about Mel were because of Marilyn. Some days I wonder if I’d never fucked Noah over with Marilyn, would he still be here? Would I have been with Mel from day one? Would that have changed the course of how anything played out?
Enough of this depressing shit, let me tell you about Marilyn so I can talk to you about my favorite subject—my wife, Amelia Weston. And Mom, this book isn’t for you, but if you ever pick it up, just know I’m sorry for not being a better brother.
Noah’s Girlfriend
There is nothing better than waking up with your dick in an extremely talented mouth. My head is swimming, my ears buzzing, my heart racing, and I feel great. I don’t usually fall asleep when I’m this high, but based on the porn star moves coming from this girl, I’m sure she fucked me into oblivion, and I hope she does it again.
Weaving my fingers through her hair, I push her down further, sliding my length deeper down her throat. She takes it all while moaning her pleasure at my silent insistence.
Fuck yeah … get it, girl.
She moves with reckless abandon, sucking the way every man dreams of being sucked off. It’s not my usual M.O. to bring a girl back onto the bus overnight, but I’m glad I made an exception this time. It’s too bad I don’t remember a damn thing about last night. It’s just another reminder why I’ve got to get my shit together and stop drinking and doing coke at the same time. When I do one or the other, my memories stay intact, but when I do them together, I’m screwed. I’ll think about that later, though, because right now there’s a real live wet dream happening as this girl tries to win the award for the best blowjob of all time.
Cracking my eyes open slowly, my line of sight is immediately dra
wn to a glorious head full of curly blonde locks draped around my cock. Reaching out, I eagerly feel around the table for a condom. Once it’s in my grasp, I drop my hand back onto my stomach and groan as she licks the pre-cum from my dick. Overwhelmed with pleasure, I drop my head back onto my pillow and close my eyes. This talented vixen has me riding the edge of pleasure as she pulls the condom from my hand.
The sound of the wrapper ripping is a promise the best is yet to come. It’s only when she rolls the condom down my length and groans do I begin to wonder where on earth I found this sexpot and how long I can keep her here if she fucks half as good as she sucks my cock.
“Damn, baby, I can’t wait to take you again.” Her husky words wash over me as her pussy slides around my dick. She moves slowly at first, adjusting to my size before bending down and tugging at my nipple rings with her teeth.
“Fuck, you’re good at that.” I hiss, and she chuckles, squeezing me tighter as if proving a point.
“We’ve always been good together, Sawyer, and now we can make up for lost time.”
Wait … what? Opening my eyes, I pray I’m not fucking who I think I am right now.
“Marilyn …” I whisper, and when my eyes meet hers, she grinds her clit against me. This girl has always had a way of coming fast and taking me with her. But she’s not supposed to be here, and I can’t get my dick to catch up to my drug-addled mind on this one. She’s so fucking tight and riding me so hard I’m about to blow.
Her walls begin to pulse around me as she chants my name in a growing crescendo. This is so fucking wrong, but the sound of my name falling from her tongue has my cock on blastoff. There’s no holding back at this point, and my body betrays my mind, giving in to the carnality of this moment. All I can do is hope I’ll be able to figure out what the hell happened after I come.