Out of the Spotlight

by Tymber Dalton

  Hell, he couldn’t go to the damn grocery store in LA without TMZ having his full shopping list posted within twenty minutes of completing checkout.

  Going to a BDSM club out there would be…well, not career suicide, but it would certainly start a very public discussion he didn’t want to be caught up in in the first place. There was a good reason a lot of A-listers who were gay stayed deep in the closet while their careers were in their prime.

  His personal life was just that, no matter how public Trevor’s persona.

  I can’t believe I wanted to get rid of Nick when I first got to Hollywood.

  He’d lucked out. He’d been attending college when a film crew did a casting call for extras for a production set in Tampa. He’d been taking some drama classes, but his major had been American Lit.

  Not only had he ended up with an appointment with an agent by the end of the day, two months later, he’d been cast in a very minor role on a cable show that had gone viral on the coattails of a movie in the same genre.

  And his career had exploded from there. He’d done a one-eighty from wanting to pursue a career as a writer to one as an actor. He’d thrown himself fully into becoming “Trevor Nichols”—the name change suggested by his agent—and had quickly found lightning-strike success that he didn’t take for granted in the slightest.

  He’d even started writing a script along those same lines, The Accidental Actor. It was a project he would eventually produce, but for now puttered away writing it in his spare time.

  Maybe that accidental fame had helped him avoid the narcissistic and ego-fueled binges of excess that some young stars went through.

  He’d been raised a normal kid by relatively normal parents.

  Until they died in a car accident his first year in college.

  From that point on, he realized he had to take life as it came, as fast and hard as it came, and define it the way he wanted.

  Which also flew in the face of what he truly wanted, to pursue this part of himself. But until now, it wasn’t a part of him that would pay off, that would reap dividends.

  Now that he’d reached a comfortable point in his life where he knew his future was assured in terms of retirement funds, he finally felt he could afford the risk.

  The worst that could happen? He’d never again star in a film he didn’t produce.

  Not what he wanted to have happen, though. Trevor Nichols was a carefully crafted brand he didn’t want to dilute.

  Nick, however, was someone he’d securely locked in a closet for too many damn years, and he would end up shriveling and dying if he didn’t let him out soon.

  He didn’t want to end up a shrunken, frail octogenarian sitting at an awards dinner and receiving some lifetime achievement just to realize the important things in life weren’t on the montage video because he’d never taken the risk to pursue them.

  He also didn’t want his personal life to end up the subject of an SNL skit.

  Sure, there was plenty of online speculation by tabloid sites that he was gay since he’d never been married, but he’d never been married more because he’d never found someone worth the aggravation of divorcing before. And he wouldn’t settle just to be with someone on a whim.

  Lucas and Leigh seemed nice, people of his own way of thinking. The longer he talked with them, yes, the less confusing their situation appeared.

  Taking charge of their lives despite the definitions others wanted to give them was something he respected…and envied.

  He felt bad that he’d led them astray. He’d told the truth about being born and raised in Sarasota, and living in California, and being back in Florida to take time off to work on a project. And that he was a writer.

  He’d simply left out a lot of the more salient details, like the fact that his name now came up on top of IMDB.com’s search results if you simply typed in “Trevor.”

  “Are you going to go to the club next weekend?” Lucas asked him. “If you are, we’re going to be there Saturday night. We wouldn’t mind showing you around.”

  He got a great vibe from both of them. And Lucas had already said he played with men and women.

  Maybe this was the perfect chance he’d needed. “I’d really appreciate that. Yes, that’d be great.”

  * * * *

  Leigh knew that tone of voice, that gleam in Lucas’ eye. They were definitely not ones to go in and scoop up random newbies just to play with them. But every once in a while, a person crossed their paths with whom they knew there was a little spark of something.

  She wouldn’t deny feeling it, either. Nick was a hunky guy, and those blue eyes of his!

  Something kept nagging at her all evening, that he was familiar somehow, like maybe she’d seen or met him before, but she couldn’t place him.

  She haaated that feeling. It would bug the crap out of her until she figured it out.

  She could also tell Lucas was really into the guy. They exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers with him before they bid everyone good night and headed for the car. Lucas held her hand, his fingers laced through hers.

  “Home, sweetheart?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you don’t want to track him home.” She tipped her head at the rental car pulling out of the parking lot.

  She envied Nick that he had a job and income that he could simply drop life for a couple of months and come to Florida to work.

  Lucas frowned. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. But maybe we need to take a step back.”

  He stopped her, making her turn and face him, before they’d even reached the car. “What are you talking about?”

  “I love you, but I don’t want to stand between you finding the perfect person for you.”

  “Where did this come from?”

  Now that she’d admitted it, she’d let it flow. “I saw how you digged him. It was like a sign from the Universe reminding me that you’re, duh, gay.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, long and hard. “I still love you. Like I said, I don’t want whatever we do to mess up us. If this is a problem, I simply won’t play with him next weekend.”

  She slipped her arms around him. “That’s not what I meant. Playing with him’s not a problem. Especially if it means I get to play with him, too. I liked him.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I’m scared,” she quietly admitted. “I don’t want to fuck us up.”

  He held her tightly. “I promise you,” he quietly said, “I don’t want to fuck us up, either. Especially over someone who won’t even be here in two months. Remember, he’s going back to California. Even more of a reason why I thought he might be someone to consider playing with. No chance of a messy emotional entanglement we don’t want or need.”

  That relaxed her somewhat. “True. I didn’t think about that.”

  When he cupped her chin in his palms and tipped her head up so he could look her in the eyes, she felt something else inside her melt. “You’re my girl. My slave. That’s my collar around your neck, remember?”

  She felt heat rush to her face as he smiled. “You did forget you had it on, didn’t you?” he teased, leaning in, his lips almost touching hers. “Such a good girl,” he said before kissing her. “My good girl.”

  A soft whimper escaped her, making him laugh. He released her, resting a hand in the small of her back as he gently nudged her toward the car.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home so I can fuck you and we can collapse into a food coma.”

  Chapter Five

  Nick felt like he was buzzing all the way back to his rented condo. He could have sat there and talked with Lucas and Leigh all night if given half the chance. But, obviously, since they had lives and had to get home because of work tomorrow, he couldn’t.

  But he was looking forward to chatting with them throughout the week and seeing them again next Saturday.

  The fact that he might actually get to play with Lucas left Nick feeling
charged and excited in a way he hadn’t felt…well, in a long time.

  On the screen, Trevor Nichols was an ass-kicker, an adrenaline junky, the man people called to solve their problems.

  In real life, he was far more boring. He got more excitement watching the finished product of his efforts than he actually did starring in them in the first place. Not that he had an overwhelming urge to do his own stunts, and many of the stunts, the insurance company wouldn’t let him do, anyway.

  Which was always a great excuse to use to call in the stunt-doubles or CGI team.

  On the screen he could watch it, and it literally was like watching someone else. Someone he didn’t know. A different person.

  A mask.

  A suit.

  A Trevor costume.

  He was no more Trevor Nichols than he was Sean Connery in real life.

  But now…

  Now he had a chance to maybe live for himself for a change, to do what he wanted, what he’d dreamed about doing. Fulfill a fantasy that had lived inside him for years.

  Who would have thought his very first attempt to dip his toe into the lifestyle would lead to him meeting a couple who seemed able to help him do exactly what he wanted to do?

  When he returned home he undressed and opened his laptop, going through the Suncoast Society’s FetLife group and finding and friending people he’d been introduced to that night. Tony and Shayla, Lucas and Leigh, and others.

  They were all so…normal. He’d half expected to find a room full of young twenty-somethings who were Goth or punk or whatever, not a Rotary club meeting. Any of them could have been him. Hell, several of the singles and couples in the room tonight had been older than him, old enough to be his parents, or even older than that.

  And they’d welcomed him with open arms, not a hint of ridicule, and with full acceptance without him needing to justify himself.

  I’m obviously not in Hollywood anymore.

  Thank god for that.

  * * * *

  Lucas wouldn’t deny he’d felt some sort of spark with Nick. Enough so that it kept him semi-chub all the way home and into Leigh’s bedroom as he thought about the hunky man’s blue eyes.

  That was where he grabbed her by the hair the way she loved, tipped her head back, and bit the side of her neck.

  Immediately, her hands came up, holding onto his shoulders as her knees gave way and she let out soft, delicious moans of need and pain.

  He’d discovered there was no faster way to sink her hard and deep into subspace than to do that. He lowered her onto the bed, moving with her, then working his way down her neck to her shoulder, where he pulled the neckline of her dress to the side and nipped her there.

  Grabbing her hands, he raised them over her head, pinning both her wrists with one hand while he reached down and yanked the hem of her dress up with the other. Her legs spread for him as he homed in on her pussy, two fingers easily sliding inside her.

  “Such a good girl,” he murmured to her, earning another needy whimper from her. He sat up and let go of her, pulling his belt out of his slacks and using it to bind her wrists together over her head.

  Tonight he wanted to work her up a little first. He buried his face between her thighs, finding her clit and pussy and licking them, working them with his tongue and lips. She moaned, writhing against him on the bed. He didn’t want to get her all the way over yet, though. Teasing her, he brought her close to the edge several times until he was sure she was more than ready to explode.

  Only then did he unfasten his slacks, shove them and his briefs down, and lift her legs so her ankles rested on his shoulders.

  His cock slid inside her and met no resistance. Slick and ready, he knew she’d have no problems getting over like this tonight. He reached up, drew the straps of her dress down her shoulders, and exposed her breasts.

  When he grabbed them and squeezed, hard, he waited until she let out a cry of pain before he eased up a little on the pressure, the pads of his thumbs rubbing over her nipples.

  “Who’s my good girl?” he asked.

  “Me, Sir.”

  “Who’s going to come for me while I’m fucking her?”

  “Me, Sir.” He loved the way even her voice changed when she dropped into subspace, like a different person almost.

  He pinched her nipples, hard, before easing up again and rolling them between his thumbs and fingers. He’d thought about getting her nipple rings but still hadn’t decided on that yet. He liked being able to be rough with her—and she loved it—but the extra sensitivity might be worth the trade-off.

  She’d already told him she was good with it if he wanted her to do it. He currently found the mental sadism of holding that over her head more exciting than committing to the real thing.

  Bracing his hands on the bed, he started fucking her hard, slow, deep, a rhythm he could keep up for a while and one he knew would soon send her tipping over the edge. Yes, the sex with her was hot, even if she didn’t have a penis. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy sex with her, because he did. Her mouth, her pussy, her ass, every sweet, delicious bit of her.

  His willing partner in kinky crime, so to speak.

  They were compatible in every way, their bond growing deeper the longer they were together. She trusted him in every way, and he trusted her.

  When her climb started, he knew. Hours of watching her, playing with her, working with her had given him keen insight into every last one of her tells. He knew what buttons to push. He knew when to hold back and when to surge forward, how to keep her going.

  Her hands clenched, her lower lip caught under her teeth. Then, the soft, gasping cry that always preceded the moan of pleasure. He felt her pussy clenching around his cock, the clue for him to pick up the pace, especially if he wanted to catch up to her.

  Which, tonight, he did. They both had to work tomorrow and couldn’t afford a late night of play. When he finished, filling her with a load of his cum, he fell still and lowered her legs, leaning in to kiss her. “Love you, sweetheart.”

  The sleepy, satisfied smile filled her face, made her even more beautiful. “Love you, too, Sir.”

  He reached up and freed her hands, getting out of bed just long enough to strip and then slide under the covers with her. She peeled her dress off and dropped it onto the floor before cuddling against him. Tonight, he’d wait until she was asleep to slip out of bed and go to his room so he didn’t wake her up with his snoring. Monday mornings were always just a little crazier and more frantic than the other days of the week, and he didn’t like to interrupt her routine any more than he already did with his snoring.

  It didn’t take long. Within a few minutes, between her full tummy and the great, albeit quick sex, her breathing slowed and deepened until he knew she was fast asleep.

  Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he got out of bed and headed for his own. He didn’t even bother picking his clothes up from the floor, because he could get them tomorrow. He’d rather not risk waking her up.

  As he pulled the covers back and climbed into his own bed, he thought again about Nick and his blue eyes.

  Stunning blue eyes he was sure he knew from somewhere, but just couldn’t place.

  Eyes he hoped one day might be staring up at him as he fucked his cock deep into the man’s gorgeous mouth.

  Chapter Six

  Nick exchanged texts and e-mails with Lucas and Leigh over the next several days, as well as he’d friended and chatted with several of the people he’d met at the munch on FetLife.

  So far, no one had even hinted about how much he looked like Trevor Nichols, much less reminded them of him.

  If he’d thought anyone was on to him, he’d have to give up the charade.

  So far, so good.

  Understandably, neither Lucas nor Leigh had come out and said what they did for a living. He couldn’t fault them for that.

  Not when he’d committed huge lies of omission of his own.

  Especially when the more he inter
acted with them, the more he was growing to like them. Perhaps the less he knew about them, the better. It would keep a layer of distance between them and him, to help keep them from discovering who he really was.

  Over the next several days, Nick tried to spend his anonymous time doing things he didn’t usually get to do. Walk along the beach, stroll through a store. Hell, being able to go buy a damn pair of sneakers without it ending up on the Internet twenty minutes later was a dream.

  He never realized how much he’d missed the simple pleasures of life. He now did a majority of his shopping on Amazon and other online sites just so he didn’t have to try to fight through people or paparazzi to buy underwear.

  Trevor Nichols prefers tighty-whities! Film at eleven!

  This was…heavenly. Relaxing.

  He never thought he’d take such great pleasure in such a normal thing.

  Being able to grab a cheap burger in peace and not have a carb and calorie analysis of his meal tweeted seconds later.

  Followed by wild suppositions about why he was eating that. Guilty pleasure? Bulking up for a role? Eating disorder? Comfort eating from a secret breakup?

  And then having to field eager requests from corporate wonks wanting to hire him as their official burger spokesman, when all he’d wanted was a damn burger.

  Shit, getting a junk food meal in Hollywood sometimes required the finesse of a drug buy. In fact, it was usually easier in that city for an A-lister to buy drugs under the radar than it was to get junk food.

  And he’d forgotten how crisp and blue the sky could look. No brownish, smoggy haze. Sunsets were clear and beautiful palettes of fiery pastels which looked painted onto an overhead canvas by some careful artist.

  Dammit, I’ve missed Florida.

  The Sunshine State, the cheaper, crazier little sister of California. Only with more concealed carry permits and no state income tax.

  He’d thought about buying a house here. Or investing in a condo, except unless you went to the high-dollar east coast, in Miami or Ft. Lauderdale, it was difficult to find an exclusive building with a manned front desk to keep the stalkarazzi at bay. And he had no desire to live on the east coast. Hell, he already lived in LA. That was crazy enough.