Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie 2)

by Kimberly Adams

  “Not yet,” I chided, pulling the sheets away and ignoring her scowl. “You need to change.”

  “I’m too tired, Keaton.”

  Ignoring her, I pulled her dress over her head, loving the way her breasts fell against the fabric. Her skirt came off in one movement, leaving her in only her bra and panties. She tried to pull the sheet over her body, but I stopped her hand, reaching to unfasten her bra.

  “Keaton-”

  “I’m not enjoying this. This is miserable for me. I swear to fucking God, I’m bored out of my mind right now looking at your half-naked body. Be quiet.”

  She giggled softly, letting me pull her lacy bra away.

  Her breasts were perfect, definitely swollen, and her nipples peaked under my heavy-lidded gaze. She wrapped her arms over her chest, blushing beautifully. “There. Better?”

  She nodded, smiling. “I’m sorry I had to put you through that.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  She smirked.

  “As much as I want to, I’m not going to,” I finally decided, giving her no further explanation. She curled on her side, and I tucked the sheet over her softly, lying next to her.

  “I’m so tired. I think I’m sleeping right now,” she murmured, her eyes closing gently.

  “I want you to eat some soup before you go to bed.”

  “I don’t like soup.”

  “What? How do you not like soup? Everyone likes soup.”

  “I don’t,” she protested sleepily.

  “Why didn’t you tell me at the desk when I ordered?”

  “I thought you were ordering for yourself.”

  I sighed, tucking my arm around her and pulling her against my chest. “There’s so much I don’t know about you. I have a feeling that soup is just the tip of the iceberg.”

  She smiled a little, and I watched her drift in and out of sleep as I waited for the room service.

  After answering the knock on the door, I set the tray on the table as she begrudgingly crawled out of bed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to pee. Again. It never ends.”

  She closed the bathroom door, and I smirked, lying back on the bed and waiting patiently. She covered her chest as she returned, sliding under the covers beside me.

  “Are you still too tired?” I asked, tugging my shirt over my head.

  “For what?” she clarified innocently.

  “This.”

  I slid over her, holding myself up with my arms to keep from crushing her. The thin light from the bathroom door caught her expression; she looked up at me, blinking softly.

  “Is this the scene where you… make love to me?”

  I nodded at her analogy, loving that she was so goddamn playful. I couldn’t imagine having fun without her, and wondered if I’d been dreaming of her my entire life.

  “This is it,” I agreed. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready,” she echoed, and I could feel her breaths come quicker. “Your muscles,” she whispered, reaching for my taut biceps. I continued to hover over her, feeling the perfect burn in my arms. “Are… really fucking sexy, Keaton. Just so you know.”

  I grinned, lifting my eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You should touch me now.”

  She arched her back, and I stiffened, holding perfectly still.

  “I’m not going to touch you.”

  “Why?” she whined.

  “Yet,” I added, and she exhaled shakily.

  “Yet. Okay.” With a deep breath and a grin, she writhed a little on the sheet, lifting her hips. “What are you going to do, then?”

  I felt the tip of my dick slide against the soft skin of her belly and almost fucking lost it.

  “I’m going to tell you exactly how to move and what to feel.”

  “Oh, you are?” she challenged.

  “Yes,” I answered. “And since you are at your most vulnerable right now, we’ll see how well you can take direction from me. If you can do this now, you can do it on the set. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, looking up at me with those wide, expressive eyes.

  “Okay. But you can’t hold yourself up forever,” she taunted.

  I grinned.

  “Yes, I can.”

  With a half-sigh, she moved her long legs impatiently.

  “I-”

  “Don’t. Move.”

  She stilled, gazing up at me.

  “Don’t move?”

  “Lie perfectly still, Vivian.”

  Her chest no longer rose and fell in even patterns. Her nipples, already hardened into tiny, rose peaks, tightened even more as she shivered.

  “I’m still.”

  “Good.”

  I lowered, just slightly, and she gasped as she felt my hardness against her thigh.

  “Listen to me.” I met her eyes, my lips only a breath away from hers. “I’m going to sink into you slowly. Like it’s the first time for both of us. When you feel pressure, I want to hear your breaths. Quick. Panting.”

  She nodded, trying to speak. Her voice caught in her throat.

  “What, Vivian?” I asked, coaxing, and she tried again for sound.

  “Can I touch you?” she asked, begging, yielding to me so fucking eagerly that I almost plunged right there and then.

  I grinned, letting my mouth brush hers as I spoke.

  “You’re going to need to hold on. My shoulders,” I suggested. She lifted her arms, and I could see them trembling in the shadows.

  Her hands slid over my corded back, resting at my shoulders, her small hold tightening.

  “Keaton?” Her eyes locked with mine, and I caught a hint of fear, something I hadn’t expected to see, not in a million years. “The first… few weeks are…” She attempted to articulate some kind of warning, and then finally dug her fingers into my skin, her nails embedding into my shoulder blades. “Please be careful,” she finally whispered.

  “V,” I began, realizing finally what she was asking me. She’s worried about the baby. “I’m going to be so fucking gentle, you’re going to want to kill me. Once you regain consciousness, that is.”

  “You’re awfully full of yourself, director,” she said with a shaky laugh.

  “I want you full of me,” I replied, dropping my hips. “Open your legs. Wide.”

  She gave a soft little mewl, sliding her ankles against the sheet as she moved her legs open.

  I waited for long, purposeful seconds, watching her eyes close in desperate need. Her hips drove against mine, and she clung to my shoulders, lifting her body.

  “Please, Keaton.”

  I held myself up with one arm, reaching beneath her with the other. My hand spanned her perfect ass as I guided her to me. My finger dipped from behind, finding her soaking wet and eliciting a strangled moan from her throat.

  She was so ready for me, and I dropped my mouth to her ear. “I want to hear you,” I reminded her.

  She nodded.

  I thrust forward, listening to her sharp breath.

  Tight. Hot. Mine.

  She moved before I did. God in fucking Heaven, she felt like my world, more than the movies, more than any award, and definitely more than any other fucking woman. Her panting breaths rocked me from within. Knowing she was obeying my direction, performing for me, was enough to make me explode in and of itself.

  It was just her. Just Vivian.

  In the dark, my body inside of hers, our child between us.

  She was all I needed, all I’d ever need.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling,” I growled against her neck, my mouth dragging over her throat as I circled my hips above hers. Those long legs wrapped around my back, and I couldn’t think of one goddamn thing except coming as hard as I fucking could inside of her. “Tell me.”

  “I am in love with you, Keaton Thorne,” she whispered, moving her hands to hold my face in her soft fingers. “I lied when I said I needed time… I only needed you. You make me feel… famous. Perfect. Just because I’m
yours.”

  My lips crashed to hers, and I tasted her salty tears as she came apart. Her body tightened around me, the clenching spasms coaxing my own violent eruption. My arms shook as I struggled to hold myself over her, my hips jerking against hers as I poured my soul into her wonderful body.

  She was right; she was perfect.

  Perfectly fucked-up… and perfect for me.

  Coming Home

  V

  We were silly the next morning. I woke up to him kissing my belly, and I grinned down at him, threading my fingers through his hair.

  “Are you sure you want me? No one else seems to.”

  “Poor,” he dropped his lips to my abdomen, and I lifted my hips, moaning softly, “little,” he added with another perfunctory kiss on my stomach, “V. Always so dramatic.”

  “Well? As you so eloquently put it, I’ve been kicked out twice in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “I want you. I can’t stop wanting you. And after this movie, Hollywood will want you too. Now, let’s go take a naked shower.”

  I giggled, letting him scoop me up and carry me to the bathroom.

  The moment the hot water stream hit us, he dropped to his knees with the bar of hotel soap. I gasped and grabbed for the security bar, holding on with all of my strength.

  “Keaton-”

  His arms hooked around my thighs, and he tugged my navel to his mouth. I cried out and closed my eyes as the water beat against my neck. He set about cleaning me thoroughly, and no matter how efficient he attempted to be, I became wetter every time his soapy hand slid inside of me.

  His tongue flicked against my belly button, and I threaded my fingers through his hair with my right hand, still gripping the bar with my left.

  “Hi there, Baby. Pay no attention to what I’m about to do to Mommy.”

  I laughed and moaned at the same time as his fingers parted me, his tongue teasing my folds. He took a moment to reach around and squeeze my ass, his mouth working harder than it ever had.

  “Oh, God… what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to fuck you with my tongue.”

  “Stop talking like that!” I cried, defeated as he demonstrated his words.

  “Should I wash my mouth out with soap?”

  “Jesus Christ, Keaton.” I tried to keep my balance, trembling above him.

  “I want your knees weak. Tell me when you can’t stand anymore.”

  The vibration of his voice made me dizzy. I cried out, my hand sliding down the bar.

  “I can’t stand,” I whispered, water mingling with my breathless words.

  “Perfect.”

  He lifted me and hooked both of my legs over his shoulders, pressing me back against the shower wall and applying twice as much pressure with his mouth. His fingers worked in rhythm with his tongue, and I was taken back to the hotel room in Pittsburgh, wondering how in the world I could have forgotten how skilled he was…

  Or how fucking crazy he drove me.

  “God… oh God,” I screamed, throwing my head back and letting the hot water rush over my chest as he brought me to my breaking point. After I drifted in and out of oblivion, he smirked as he untangled my legs from his neck, kissing his way slowly up to stand in front of me.

  “Good. Now, this time, I want you to scream my name when you come, not God’s. I felt like I was on my knees in Sunday mass.”

  My jaw fell open, and I shrieked as he lowered his mouth again.

  And God did I scream Keaton’s name.

  . . .

  We drove his Ferrari back to his mom’s house. I slept for most of the drive, trying to remember how long the overwhelming fatigue lasted during pregnancy.

  “Good, Robin’s not home.”

  Blinking, I stretched, waking up to his voice. “Good? Don’t you want to see her?”

  He shrugged, nodding to the limo driver that pulled into the Thorne’s driveway. “Not really, not today. Okay, our ride’s here. Let’s go home.”

  “Home,” I repeated softly, wondering how long it’d take before LA felt like home to me.

  He recognized my tone, taking a moment to gather me into his arms. “Be brave, kiddo. I’ve got you.”

  I smiled confidently, letting him lead me to the limo.

  I expected the plane ride back to LA to be lighthearted and playful, but he had other plans. He pulled out the script for the movie, handing me a copy.

  “Take notes. We have about four hours until we land, and I want to get through at least half.”

  “We’re… working?” I clarified. He nodded, shifting in the seat to turn my way.

  “If I sit here staring at you, I’m going to end up in that tiny bathroom, fucking you against the wall.”

  “Keaton!”

  The woman sitting next to Keaton obviously heard him, shooting us both a dirty look before turning toward the aisle.

  He smirked and kissed my nose before turning toward the script.

  We almost made it through half. For the first few comments and critiques about my acting, I nodded gratefully, making notes along the side of the script.

  By the fifth page of notes, I began to take offense.

  “Why did you even cast me? Do you think I can act at all?”

  He paused, raising his eyebrows my way. “Don’t do that. Be open to suggestion. I’m not an expert, but I have more experience than you do. Pouting is unattractive, and a waste of time.”

  “Unattractive?” I stuck my lower lip out, batting my eyes pitifully. “Don’t you think I’m pretty? You’re hurting my feelings,” I whined pathetically.

  He smirked, rolling his eyes. “Okay, you little shit, work.”

  I grinned.

  By the time we landed, I had margins filled with his ideas. We’d stopped at the love scene.

  “I’ll work with you and Salter on the scene. I don’t want gratuitous. I want this film to be suspenseful, but not tasteless.”

  “I’m nervous about that, Keaton.”

  “It’ll be a closed set.”

  “Will I be… completely naked?”

  His brows furrowed, and he lowered his voice, pressing his mouth to my ear. “Never. Not with another man, not for as long as I live.”

  His resolute tone both comforted and entertained me.

  He gathered our luggage from the baggage carousel, leading us toward the front of the airport. I stopped in my tracks, recognizing Frank right away.

  “There she is.” He wore his sunglasses inside, and coupled with this beer belly and Hawaiian printed shirt, I almost giggled. “The pretty woman in Keaton’s life. Here to stay, Vivian?”

  “Yes,” I replied, holding out my hand. “And I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, what with you referring to me as Keaton’s ‘vagina of the week,’ and me calling you ‘asshole.’ Can we start over?”

  He grinned, shoving his glasses up to his brows and accepting my handshake. “Nothing’s really changed, honey. Now you get all the weeks, but I’m still an asshole.”

  I grinned, exchanging a glance with Keaton. He rolled his eyes, dropping his hand to my back and leading me toward the door.

  “Let’s make a movie, kids,” Frank called, following us out to the limo.

  Frank and Keaton discussed the notes we’d taken on the plane, and then Keaton closed the script as we got closer to his apartment. “Did the dress arrive?”

  “The dress?” I furrowed my brow in confusion, and Frank nodded.

  “Yes. It’s at your apartment, ready for tomorrow night, along with your suit.”

  “Suit?” I smirked. “Is this for the ball? Shouldn’t you be wearing a tux, Keaton?”

  He sat back in the seat, stretching his long legs out and jabbing his thumb in the air, in my direction. “She’s already nagging me, and we’re not even married.”

  “Stop it,” I chided, rolling my eyes.

  “Keaton asked for a suit. He thought it’d be cute, since all the tabloids have labeled you two the ‘Hollywood High School Sweethearts.’
The idea is to look like you’re headed to prom.”

  “Show her the dress,” Keaton ordered, gesturing to Frank’s phone.

  “No, don’t,” I protested, reaching for my pony tail to twist nervously. “I want to be surprised. No, wait, do I? Okay, show me. No, don’t.”

  Frank laughed heartily, and Keaton winked my way. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

  Home. There was that word again. Yanking harder on my hair, I raised my eyes to Keaton’s. “Aren’t we going to celebrate your birthday tomorrow? We should do something,” I said.

  “Right,” Frank replied, glancing at his watch. “Speaking of that… we have to stop by the office for, um… a folder.”

  “A folder.” Keaton scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Terrible. Try again.”

  “A… book?”

  “How many people?”

  Frank shrugged. “Who the fuck knows. Kathy put the whole thing together. I only saw the bill. It’s going to be obscene. Do you want to go to your apartment first and change?” he asked.

  “What, is it a surprise birthday party?” I clarified, and Keaton nodded.

  “Every year.”

  “Kelsey used to be the one to throw this. It’s kind of an annual thing,” Frank added, and I could feel Keaton’s entire body tense at his ex-wife’s name.

  “Frank, don’t talk about her again.”

  His words were friendly enough, but neither I nor Frank missed the commanding threat behind his tone.

  Frank shrugged. “Sure. But she’s part of your life, Keaton. You don’t need any mudslinging. You better play nice in front of the cameras. Good press and all.”

  “I don’t need to change, I don’t think,” I cut in, glancing at Keaton. I wore a long, white maxi dress and wedge sandals, and Keaton leaned forward, pinching my chin before drawing my lips to his.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  Frank watched us with a wayward smile.

  At almost eight PM, his office building appeared to be deserted. As the elevator climbed each floor to his level, I moved closer to Keaton, anxiously twisting my ponytail.

  Ignoring Frank, he turned to me, pushed me against the wall, and covered my mouth with his.

  Lost in his kiss, I barely noticed him pull my hair from the band, aware of nothing but his fingers threading through the long waves as his tongue tangled with my own. He held me steady in his arms, even as the door chimed upon our arrival.