Already Famous

by Heather Leigh

  Sitting on my sofa in the dull light of the morning, she looks radiant. Her reddish-brown hair is tangled up in a knot on the top of her head, her smooth, pale skin is flushed with this morning’s activities in bed and again in the shower, and I can see the scattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her pixie like nose. She’s absolutely perfect.

  “I have a few things to get done in the next few days as well, so just let me know if your schedule is clear and we’ll talk later,” I say as she snuggles back into my side and makes a contented noise. Yeah, I could do this every day for the rest of my life.

  A mere hour later, I find out just how tenacious the seemingly docile Sydney Allen can be and, unfortunately, she gets a peek at just how overbearing I can be when I’m determined.

  “Sydney, you’re not walking home. I’m not letting you leave here in last night’s clothes like some kind of prostitute!”

  God, she’s so fucking stubborn!

  I refuse to kick her out on the street after a night of sex. It’s disrespectful, plus I never know when a photographer will decide to stake out my front door. I can’t have them approaching her and asking questions, or worse, following her home and staking out her front door.

  “Drew, you’re being ridiculous. Walking two blocks home is no big deal,” she says to me calmly as she slides her feet into her shoes and stands in front of me and puts her hands on my hips.

  No big deal my ass!

  “No! You will most certainly not be doing the walk of shame out of here and onto a busy New York street. Bruce will drive you home. End of story.”

  I’m having a difficult time restraining my anger. I know I’m too bossy and controlling sometimes, hell, most of the time, but there’s no way I’m giving up this fight. I protect what’s important to me, I have no intention of making the same mistake that I did ten years ago by not watching out for my girl.

  The corner of her mouth quirks up at my demand. “It’s not a walk of shame if I don’t feel shame.” She folds her arms defiantly, thinking she’s won.

  Oh baby, don’t play this game with me. You won’t win. I step forward and pull her against me, murmuring into her soft hair, “I’ll feel shame if you walk out of here like that, Sydney.” I place a chaste kiss on the top of her head.

  Her chest expands against mine right before I hear her sigh. “Fine Drew, you win. When can Bruce be here?”

  I smile and bury my face into her neck, inhaling the addictive scent and committing it to memory. “Thank you, Sydney.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The front door slams shut and I hear footsteps stomping up the stairs. Prepared for the worst, I spin around in my office chair and wait for my certain death, staring into the hallway until it appears from the stairway. Jane comes hurtling around the corner and toward me in a flurry of activity and instructions.

  “Drew! When am I meeting the woman that completely changed your life in the four measly days that I’ve been gone?” she shrieks. Her chatter comes to an abrupt halt when she reaches her desk and looks around the room. “Holy cow! What happened in here?”

  Her wide eyes scan over the piles of untouched mail, stacks of scripts, and oh yeah, the mess of photos, books and other movie related crap that I threw in here before Sydney came over.

  Uh-oh. Disappointing Jane is something I avoid doing, mostly because she tends to make me feel like I’m a ten year-old kid again.

  “Ummmm, well… I had to hide all of my industry stuff. And, uh, the mail overwhelmed me so I left it. Plus, I was kind of busy having a life crisis while you were gone.” I scratch my head and look up at Jane, hoping to see some sympathy. Crap, she’s glaring at me. Actually, she looks really pissed.

  Jane huffs loudly. “While I’m very happy that you’ve found some sort of soul mate, Drew, you do realize that the business that is Andrew Forrester must keep on rolling forward regardless of whether or not you are in love?” She’s angrily stacking mail and scripts and shoving them into a bag as she chastises me. “I told you to let me send one of the junior assistants over here while I was gone. This is going to take a few days to sort out. I’ll just bring it all home with me.”

  “Janey, you know I can’t stand having anyone in my office except you.” I give her my best Andrew Forrester smile. She doesn’t fall for it, she never does. Damn, at least big puppy eyes still work on my mom, because Jane is immune to most of my charms.

  “Drew, I’m warning you, next time you’re bringing in help.” She points at me and gives me her patented Jane Hardy, hairy-eyeball, death glare.

  I shiver dramatically and hold up my hands in defeat. “Fine, you’re right. It’s a mess in here. Doesn’t housekeeping come today? Maybe they could put all of my shit back where it belongs …”

  Jane swoops in and smacks me on the head with a letter. “Stop swearing in front of me, Drew! And no, they don’t come today! I’ll add it to the list of things I have to do.” She shoves aside a stack of books on the couch and sits, looking up at me with a twinkle in her eye. “Now, tell me about this girl.”

  CHAPTER 12

  I make it to The Hub a little earlier than my friends and enjoy a quiet beer. It’s always easier to be hidden in a booth and wait twenty minutes than it is to walk through a crowded bar after the game has already started. This way, there’s less of a chance of anyone recognizing me and making our day miserable.

  “Hey! Drew, what’s up?” Damien says as he and Bobby slide into the semi-circular booth across from me and stare.

  Bobby busts out laughing once he gets a good look and I know what’s coming next. Naturally, he doesn’t disappoint. “Nice hair! You look like a total douche.” Bobby says this, Every. Single. Time.

  “Thanks, asswipe, at least I have hair,” I grunt. Bobby shaves his dark head every day. He says it makes him look like a scary fuck and he’s right. “You remember the last time I went out and didn’t wear it? No way, unless you want to miss the Packers game to pose for a thousand pictures and listen to repeated requests to speak to everyone’s favorite uncle on the phone to prove that they really met me.”

  Bobby is another fighter from Damien’s gym we I hang out with and I sometimes spar against. He’s just starting in UFC and has done fairly well so far. He loves to mess with me over the stupid shaggy brown wig I wear under my Sox cap, but he always forgets that when I don’t wear it, we can’t watch the game or even hold a conversation. The steady stream of clingers-on and hopeful women prevents us from having a good time.

  “Nah man, thanks for uglifying your pretty self so I can watch my Packers kick some ass.” Bobby tugs on his Green Bay hat and smiles.

  I laugh and take a swig of my beer. Damn, it’s nice to go out and just be myself. Well, myself in a stupid wig and hat, but it’s better than the usual house arrest or the boring Hollywood events I have to go to.

  “This shit is itchy as hell, so you’d better appreciate it,” I respond. Turning to Damien I nod with my chin, “What about you? What’s up?”

  “No way Drew, you’re not getting out of this. I want to know why you let me beat the hell out of you yesterday. Usually, you’re more focused. Do you need to go back down to remedial lessons on defending yourself against attacks?” Damien is staring me down with his hands folded on the table and his scar riddled eyebrows knitted together as he waits for my response.

  “Hi, I’m Holly and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?”

  Saved from Damien’s inquiry by the waitress.

  Holly is clearly completely disgusted by me in my hat and wig. She can barely even glance my way. My ‘human repelling’ costume as Sydney would call it, is working perfectly. Holly bats her overly made-up eyes at Damien, waiting for his answer.

  “Guinness,” barks Bobby, without taking his eyes off of the big screen across from our booth where the teams are flipping the coin. “And a big plate of hot wings, sweetheart.” He’s so charming.

  Holly flicks her gaze to Bobby for a split second, then
back to Damien, smiling coyly when she makes eye contact with him. “And for you?” she purrs, stepping a little closer to Damien.

  He looks at me and smirks, then turns to grin at Holly. “I’ll have a Stella, draft please.” She blatantly checks out Damien then spins on her heel and heads to get their drinks.

  “Ha! Not so hot without your superpower of fame, are you Forrester?” Damien gloats, pointing his finger in my face before his attention is focused on the kickoff.

  “Bro that is all you. I’m over it. Plus, I’m kind of seeing someone.” I sit back in the booth and take another big sip of my draft, not really invested in this particular football game.

  Bobby and Damien both stop watching the game and turn their eyes on me at the same time. “No way man,” says Bobby. “You, dating someone? I don’t believe you.” He shakes his head back and forth on his thick neck. “I’ve known you three years and I’ve never heard you talk about a chick. Not once.”

  “It all makes sense now,” says Damien, rubbing his stubbled chin thoughtfully. He sits back and folds his tattooed arms across his chest. “That’s why you sucked in the ring yesterday. Your head is all full of that girl! Ha! Never thought I’d see it. You, pussy whipped by a woman!”

  The two of them laugh their asses off and fist bump like it’s some sort of joke that I’m dating someone. Okay, it is true that I don’t date, but how is that funny?

  “You guys are wicked fuckwads. Let’s just watch the game, all right?” I sound pissed, but honestly, I’m too happy to be mad.

  “Fuck, he went Boston on us,” Bobby says seriously as he turns to smirk at Damien. “Better watch your ass next time you’re in the cage with him, Damien. You know what happens when Forrester gets all Boston’d out,” Bobby warns as his dark eyes wrinkle in amusement.

  Every once in a while, I’ll ham it up since my accent seems to amuse them. Damien is from New York and Bobby is from some little town between Milwaukee and Green Bay, so hearing me ‘go Boston’ always cracks them up.

  “Fuck you ya chowdaheads. The Pats have the most wicked quartahback evah, so it doesn’t mean that Denvah is bettah for winning the playoff game.” They stare at me for a minute before we all bust out laughing and enjoy the rest of the game.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sydney is going to think I’ve lost my mind. She saw me in my dress-down, fan repelling clothes at the café and in my sparring shorts the first day we met. But the last two times I’ve seen her were in private, so I was able to dress like a normal person.

  I texted her yesterday from The Hub before the game started to see if she wanted to get together today. She offered for me to join her on her run. That means going out in public, which in turn, means an ugly disguise. Since I can’t wear my wig in front of her, I grab my oldest, baggiest gym clothes and throw them on.

  The doorman, Richard I think, apparently knew I was coming over because he opened the door as I approached and told me to head straight to the elevator bank. I’m once again thankful that her lobby staff are so discreet.

  I knock on 8A and when Sydney opens the door and takes a look at me, her reaction is purely comical. Her hand flies up to her mouth and she lets out a little bark of laughter. Her blue eyes are shining with amusement.

  “Interesting choice of clothing,” she says, struggling not to laugh in my face.

  Sydney looks delectable in her tight black Lycra pants and thermal running jacket, I’m unable to stop staring at her ass as she turns to let me inside.

  I look like a complete bum and she called me on it, so I feel like I have to defend myself a little, even though she’s completely right. “What? I think I look like a guy who wants to work out.”

  She eyes my tattered B.C. sweatshirt and Patriots skullcap and smiles, bumping me gently with her hip. “You look like you crawled out of a sewer and stole from the lost and found at a college student center.”

  God she’s adorable. I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and drag her over to me, rubbing my two day old stubble all over her face and neck. “You love it!” I say as she squeals and struggles to free herself from my torture.

  She’s laughing uncontrollably now. “Stop! It tickles! Stop it!” I laugh with her and reluctantly let her go.

  Her body in her super tight clothing is dangerous, not only can I not keep my hands off of her, but I start to get aroused, which makes me flirtatious. “Well, we can’t all be as sexy as you when we exercise.”

  Her gaze darkens at my words and her voice gets husky, letting me know that my charms have worked on her. “Trust me, you are sexy. It’s just hidden under all of that hideous clothing.” She smiles, continuing, “You know this is New York don’t you? Some might take offense at all of that Boston paraphernalia.”

  Once again, she says something completely unexpected and I love it. “Am I wearing my human-repelling costume again, Miss Allen?”

  “Why I believe you are, Mr. Forrester. But once again, it’s not going to keep me away. Now, let’s hit the pavement.”

  Sydney leads me on what she says is her normal jogging route. She says she normally does anywhere from six to eight miles each time she runs. She’s in phenomenal shape. I admit that I wasn’t sure if she would actually run that far in this cold weather but she does.

  We go all the way from the West Village to Battery Park and back up. It’s easier than sparring with Bobby or Damien, but it’s infinitely more difficult because I have Sydney’s Lycra-clad ass inches from me and I can’t do anything about it. More than once I think about yanking off her bright pink ear warmer, tying her hands together with it, and fucking her until she passes out. Not my finest moment, but I am glad I wore baggy sweats.

  We walk the final half mile back to her building and enter her loft covered in sweat. The two of us stagger to the kitchen and Sydney hands me a cold bottle of water from her fridge, watching while I immediately down the entire liter. She’s drinking hers when I turn to her and say one word, “Shower?” Maybe she was thinking about sex the entire run too, because she doesn’t hesitate to hold out her hand and lead me to her room.

  Sydney goes straight into the bathroom and starts the shower while I peel off my damp clothes and leave them in a heap on the floor. When I step into the en suite, she’s already in the huge enclosure, her toned body partially obscured by the layer of steam that’s formed on the glass. I stand there gaping for a minute, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so aroused in my life.

  “Mind if I join you?” I open the door and press against her, kissing her inviting mouth. She eagerly lets me in, wrapping her arms around my neck and rubbing against me, quickly driving me to the edge of my self-control.

  I place my hands on her waist and yank her hips into me, fitting my cock between her legs, but not inside her. Sydney lets me push her back so she’s flat against the tile wall, the hot water raining down on us as we devour each other, nipping and tasting each other’s mouths while our tongues twist together in ecstasy. The entire time I keep sliding my wet cock back and forth against her slit, devouring every moan that she makes as the friction increases her pleasure.

  I reach down and grab behind each knee, pulling her legs up and holding her against the wall by cupping her tight ass. I continue grinding my dick up and down her folds as she whimpers into my mouth. Before I can protest, her hand snakes down and guides me inside her. I gasp at the feel of her bare skin clenching around my cock. It’s too much to take.

  “Sydney, I can’t last like this. Are you on birth control?” I ask, barely able to sound out the words as the thrilling surge of pleasure nearly blinds me.

  “No, just pull out. I need you Drew,” she moans and bucks against me again, nearly incapacitating my ability to think. Fuck, she’s going to kill me. What if I can’t pull out in time? The only thing that stops me is my overwhelming respect for Sydney. My head drops over her shoulder and I press my forehead into the wall so I can regain control of myself.

  “Sydney, I can’t do that to you.” I slide out of her so
I can reach over and turn off the water. “Keep your legs around me,” I instruct as I carry her out of the shower and put her on the counter next to the sink. “Wait here.” Sydney watches me with heavy lidded eyes as I hurry and pull a condom out of my discarded pants and rush back into the bathroom as I’m rolling it on.

  “Hurry Drew,” Sydney begs as she digs her nails into my ass and pulls me back between her legs until I sink back inside.

  She’s immediately groaning and writhing and it quickly becomes too much for me to handle. The sensation of our wet skin slapping together as I fuck her, sends sparks flying across my field of vision. Any remaining shred of rational thought that I had left, leaves my body and once again my dick is now in complete control. I grip her hips tightly and start thrusting violently into her, pinning her against the counter.

  Once I speed up the pace, she starts convulsing and screaming, pulling my hair fiercely as she comes apart. Shit, she must have wanted this as badly as I did because she is fucking gorgeous as she comes. Trying to hold her slippery body in place on top of the counter takes a lot of effort but it’s worth it. I keep diving in and out of her tight pussy, the unbelievable rightness of it overwhelming me. Hot and wet and gripping, I can detect every movement she makes.

  “Hold on to me Sydney!” I yell as I keep driving in and out, slamming in deeper each time. She tightens her arms and moans into my mouth as I lift her up and fuck her harder until I come forcefully into her, a streak of pleasure shooting through my balls until I’m completely empty. Spent and panting, I lay my forehead on her shoulder, still pinning her up against the sink.

  Sydney loosens her tight grip on my neck and slowly lowers her feet to the floor. All I can do is stand there, leaning against her as I recuperate. She runs her mouth gently up and down my neck and shoulder until I have the energy to look up. I kiss her gently and pull her close.