by Haley Jenner
“Hey, man,” I greet distractedly, searching through her copious toiletries looking for toothpaste.
“You looked at the tabloids today?” James presses through the line.
I frown. “I never read fucking tabloids, they’re a load of shit.”
Locating her toothpaste, I smile at my reflection in triumph. Cell pressed between shoulder and ear, I drop a blob on my finger, sticking it into my mouth to rub it along my teeth.
“It’s a fucking disaster, Reid. They’re crucifying her. Again.”
“What?” I garble, spitting into the sink before repeating myself. “What?”
“The studio wants us to drop her.”
My body locks solid, the feeling of cement sliding along my veins. “The fuck did you just say?”
“I didn’t say I agreed,” James quips. “Calm down. I’m just telling you what’s up. I had them on the phone all morning. They’re panicked. They’re working with a lot of variables here, Reid. They’re nervous.”
Walking from the bathroom, I check on Roxy, still passed out on the couch. I slink past her, working not to wake her. I step onto her balcony, wishing like all fuck that I had my smokes with me.
“Fuck their nerves,” I grate. “She’s Abbigail. She’s the only person that can play her. She’s fucking brilliant, James.”
“I know that.” James sighs. “Her stupid fucking solo sex show is being plastered across the internet and magazines all over again. What is the world’s problem with this girl?”
I roll my shoulders. What I’d give to come face-to-face with Damian Harrington. To connect my fist with his drug-fucked face.
“She’s unapologetic. She doesn’t make excuses. She doesn’t explain herself. The world thinks they’re entitled to her story and they’re not.”
“Reid, I get you have history with this girl, but is she worth your career? Because I’m not convinced she’s worth mine.”
My throat feels tight. A stampede of dread and rage cutting off my ability to swallow.
“It’d be a disaster to replace her,” I speak through clenched teeth, slowly, measuredly, ensuring my emotions don’t overtake. “Not even the cost associated with such an endeavor. It’d kill the film.”
James remains quiet on the end of the line.
“James,” I speak, turning to move back into the room in search of my cigarettes. “Tell me you agree… I’ll call you back.”
I end the call, eyes fixated on Roxy’s frozen figure. Toothbrush stuffed into the side of her mouth, she stands just inside the door.
Mismatched eyes watch me cautiously.
They demand I explain myself.
They beg me to tell her she heard wrong.
Caught between hurt and fury, both arrows aimed right at me, she blinks, waiting for me to say something.
“It’s not what you think.”
Pulling her toothbrush from her mouth, she uses the back of her hand to wipe her lips. “What I think is that the studio wants to drop me from the film. Is that right?”
I refuse to lie, but I also can’t vocalize that truth. So I don’t. Instead, I choose silence, letting her read the confirmation in my eyes.
She nods. “What I think is that you’re more concerned about your stupid fucking film than me.”
“What?” I balk. “No!”
“It’d kill the film,” she repeats my words back to me.
“You eavesdropped on the end of a conversation and you’re working to turn me into the bad guy. The world might be against you a lot of the time, but I’m not the world. I’m me.”
“It’d be a disaster to replace her,” she parrots me again. “Not even the cost associated with such an endeavor.”
“Roxy,” I placate, but she turns on her heel, storming away.
“Fuck,” she spits. “I cannot believe I was starting to trust you again.”
“Jesus, Rox. Fucking chill.” I grab her arm, my palm pressed tightly against her forearm.
“Chill?” she screeches, attempting to yank her arm from my grasp.
I hold on tighter, pulling her closer. “Yeah, chill.”
“Don’t fucking tell me to chill,” she grits, moving closer, eyes like fire.
My body heaves with the way my chest expands and deflates. I can’t pinpoint the feeling. Something akin to a hybrid of anger and panic. But mainly fear. A cold dread running through my veins.
“You missed the start of the conversation,” I tell her. “You missed the part where I told him you were fucking brilliant, that you and only you could play Abbigail.”
I don’t need to look down to know her body is moving in the same way as mine. Her chest brushing mine with every forceful breath. She licks her lips, an indiscriminate move to moisten the way they’ve dried in her overwrought state. They glisten now, pink pillows an inch from mine as she swallows her animosity.
Confusion adds to my myriad of feelings.
Because looking at her lips, her body pressed roughly against mine, I want to kiss her.
I want to drink up her fury, and pair it with my own.
I want to ease her trepidation and slay mine along with it.
I want to conquer her fear and let her find her strength alongside me.
I want to kiss the girl that used to be my best friend.
I want to kiss the girl I bathed in rejection ten years ago for wanting the same thing.
Correction, I need to kiss her.
So against my better judgment, against every rational part of my brain, I do.
I swallow the breath of air separating us. I let my lips caress hers. A complete contradiction in the way my mouth gently tastes hers to the way my hand tightens against her arm.
Her lips join in at the same time they pull away, her head pushing backward.
Our eyes connect, a long second passing without a breath, shock pulling us closer.
Then it’s havoc. A carnal chaos. One that I never imagined existed. One that wormed its way into our destiny at its own pace.
My hands find her face, cupping the smooth line of her cheeks, fingers tangled in her hair. Her arms drape heavily over my shoulders, my hair pulled by the exaggerated need at her fingertips.
I never imagined I’d find myself in this position, intimately twisted up in Roxy Monroe. Yet, with our bodies as close as we can manage in the moment, I can’t remember wanting anything decidedly more.
Head tipped to the side, I deepen our kiss. My lips moving against hers in a desperation I’ve never felt.
Our bodies hit the small kitchen table in her suite, soft grunts echoing against the sound of our heavy breathing. I lift her with ease, dropping her ass onto the wood. Hands sliding into the soft denim of her shorts, I jerk her toward me, the rough move pulling her flush against my straining cock.
She breaks our kiss on a silent moan, dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Hooded eyes meet mine, her lips swollen and bruised, hair mussed around her flushed cheeks.
Her gaze not leaving mine, her hands find the hem of her shirt, yanking it over her head without delay. Tits, heavy with want, nipples sharp enough to cut glass, bounce with the movement.
I growl. Thick and loud, the sound deep with want, strangled from the very base of my throat. “Fuck, Rox,” I muse.
My mouth attacks hers once again, my hands tugging at her shorts, pulling them off in one swift movement. Palms to her knees, I push them upward, making her shudder. Her feet find the edge of the table, she’s completely open to me.
Ready.
Waiting.
Lips sliding against her neck, I unbuckle my jeans, sliding my boxers down just enough to release my cock.
“I’m so fucking hard, Roxy,” I growl against the delicate skin of her throat.
She cries out loudly as the head of my cock kisses her clit, rubbing gently over her swollen nub. The damp heat of her pussy wets my dick. I want to drown in her.
Unable to take another second without feeling her, I slam inside of her, teeth biting into the sensitive skin bet
ween her neck and shoulder. She screams, the sound drowning out the snarl that crawls from my throat and vibrates against my teeth.
Hands twisted in the back of my shirt, Roxy pulls herself closer. My cock falls deeper inside of her at the slight move and finally letting my teeth release, I tip my head back, groaning long and slow into the otherwise quiet room.
One hand clasped along the back of her neck, the other plastered across the lowest point of her back, I drag myself from her body. She grips me the entire way, her pussy tightening in protest at my exit.
The table shakes beneath us as I slam into her willing and eager body over and over again. There’s a desperation in the way we fuck. In the hurried need we’ve given over to. Broken down by the hurt we’ve caused one another, we fuck our way to forgiveness. Searching deep within as our bodies connect in a way that pulls our relationship into another realm. Gone is our friendship. This frantic moment has all but solidified that. We can never go back. Not that either of us cares to. We’re creating a Reid and Roxy for today. The need for a spit-shake surpassed by the kiss of my cock against her cervix.
“Reid,” she moans, her neck tipping back as the head of my cock slides against that perfect spot inside of her.
I pull my face from her throat, my need for her decorating the delicate skin in purple lip-shaped bruises and red teeth marks.
“You feel so fucking good, Rox.”
“So good,” she echoes. “Kiss me.”
I don’t hesitate to give her what she asks for. My lips find hers without delay. I bite, I suck, I lick, I caress. My mind as frantic as my body. Wanting to savor her, but needing to devour her.
“Yes,” she breathes into my mouth.
Hand wound into her hair, I yank, breaking our kiss. She hisses at the rough touch, her body shaking with pleasure. Her pussy throbs around my cock making me growl.
My lips drag down her chin. I lick her neck. Tits in my face, I let my tongue dance heavily against the perfection of her nipples.
She’s heaven. It’s taken me ten years too long to realize, but Roxy Monroe is my fucking heaven.
Hand sliding between us, her fingers stretch around where our bodies connect, palm pushed against her clit.
“Jesus,” she cries softly, body quivering in the beginnings of her orgasm.
Lips to her ear, I bite her lobe. “You gonna wet my dick, Firefly?”
She nods, her legs tightening around my waist. Hips fitted tightly against hers, I grind, her legs so taut, I can’t thrust the way I need to.
She comes quietly. Her orgasm exploding in a scream that cuts off at the base of her throat. Fingers clawed into my back in a way that I know she’ll leave marks, I feel her pulsate thickly against me. It’s my undoing. I fuck her like a man possessed, pounding inside of her body in a way that she’ll feel me tomorrow.
I fuck her, breaking down her barriers and healing her wounds all in one.
I fuck her, begging for forgiveness and handing over mine.
I fuck her, needing her to understand we’re changed. Irrevocably. Unequivocally. Absolutely.
Fifteen
Take Two
Roxy
I fall against the table, body covered in sweat, mind pleasantly spent.
Still buried deep within my body, Reid peppers kisses along my damp skin; starting at my ribs moving upward until his lips find mine. He kisses me slowly. Lips pressed against mine in a gentleness I could never imagine he’d be capable of. Tongue massaging mine, he explores my mouth like time is something we have in abundance. I kiss him back, letting myself believe the same.
I fantasized about this moment for a large chunk of my life. About the reality of Reid and I finding one another intimately. I imagined fireworks and declarations of love and a confidence that this was forever.
Not this.
Not a broken moment between two adults who no longer know how to define their relationship. A moment willed from pain, executed in anger and tied in confusion.
That’s not saying I regret it. Sure, it blossomed from somewhere broken, but it was beautiful and chaotic. We didn’t make love. We fucked; quick, raw and dirty. He begged for my forgiveness, offering mine in the single-minded stroke of his cock. I accepted his and offered my own with my nails piercing his skin, his name a jagged whisper from my lips as I came.
But the ability to forgive doesn’t automatically offer you the capacity to forget. Reid hasn’t forgotten how I broke our precious rules, how I pushed him away with a fraught confession of the desire of my heart. And I haven’t forgotten the vehemence in which he rejected me, how easy it was for him to turn his back on the promises he made me.
We may have found forgiveness, but our minds won’t ever let us forget the pain we inflicted on one another.
Reid’s hips move, a soft grind as his lips continue their ministrations against my mouth. His semi-soft cock hardening inside of me.
I stutter through my breathing and breaking our kiss, I watch the right side of his mouth tip up in a grin soaked in lust and fired by cockiness.
My back arches, my body eager to feel him.
“Yo.” A loud knock sounds at my hotel room door. “Roxy-Roo, it’s Ari.”
Reid pauses his movement, his smile dropping away, a frown taking its place. “The fuck is he doing here?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper-yell, feeling unnecessarily defensive.
He looks ready to combust. Hazel eyes sparking green with jealousy.
“He better not try and fuck you,” he spits and I push at his chest.
“We’re friends, Reid.”
“We were friends once upon a time, too. Didn’t stop you wanting more.”
“Ouch,” I flinch. “I didn’t want in your fucking pants, asshole. I wanted in your heart. Stop being a fuckwit. Envy is unbecoming on you.”
He blinks, still buried inside me, Ari still at my door.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, thumb running along the inside of my thigh gently.
“I know you’re in there and I’m not leaving, so you may as well let me in. I brought donuts… do-nuts… Do you spell it dough as in d-o-u-g-h or just the d-o?”
Reid and I look at one another. Reid coughs out a small laugh, the sound morphing into a groan as he reluctantly slides out of me. “This isn’t finished,” he speaks against my ear, his voice making me shudder. “And if I find out Australia out there is working to fuck you, I’ll kick his ass.”
“Calm down, cave man.” I roll my eyes, stepping away from him.
Tucking himself back into his jeans, Reid scowls at the door.
Dropping onto the couch in complete nonchalance, he watches me get dressed, eyes stripping my shorts and shirt from my body the moment I put them into place.
Flattening my hair, I ignore Reid’s cum dripping from my body along the crotch of my shorts.
Ari smiles triumphantly as I yank the door open, holding up the bag of donuts. “I spell it d-o,” I greet him.
Stepping through the door, his feet halt almost immediately. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
“Fuck off, Hart.”
Glancing over the mess of the coffee table, he smiles. “Wild night, nerds.”
Grabbing the bag of donuts from his hand, I drop on the couch opposite Reid, needing to place as much distance between us as possible.
“Your shirt is on inside-out, and backward, donut thief.”
Pulling at the neck of my shirt, the tag mocks me from its place under my chin.
Dropping beside me, Ari says nothing more. Snagging the bag of donuts, he pulls one out, taking a large bite, eyes darting between Reid and me in eager interest.
“No need to be awkward,” he talks around a mouthful of dough, “I’ve shared a root or two with a friend over my time too.”
“We didn’t!” I balk, at the same time Reid tells him to mind his business.
“Huh.” Ari sits back in his chair. “You guys are traveling on different train tracks, aren’t you? That’s to
ugh. Anywho.” He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Roxy, I just came to check in with you. That stupid video is doing the rounds again after the media grabbed hold of Reid playing your love interest.”
I nod. “I know. The studio wants to drop me.”
Eyes falling on Reid, Ari’s face morphs from mild boredom to incensed. “The fuck, man?”
“I don’t want to drop her,” Reid argues defensively. “Stop acting like her savior. I told James it’s not gonna happen. Fucking chill. I’ve got her. I’ve always got her.”
Settling his feathers, Ari nods at Reid, trying to disguise his smirk. “Good. Be awkward if I had to kick your ass while you’re still sporting a stiffy.”
I choke on my donut.
“Go home, Hart,” Reid sighs.
“You both should,” I invite. “I need to get ready. I’ll see you on set.”
Reid, completely taken aback by my suggestion, doesn’t move.
“You heard the lady.” Ari angles his head toward the door. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand. Catch you in a bit, Roxy-Roo. Make sure you take the back exit, paparazzi are swarming like the vultures they are.”
I nod, avoiding Reid’s eyes as he stands. He waits a beat, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. He leaves my room on a reluctant sigh and a half-mumbled promise to see me later.
The door closes with a resounding click, the room now eerily silent. Thumbnail caught between my teeth, my eyes fall to the kitchen table. The table moments ago I was perched upon naked, Reid’s impressive cock slamming in and out of my body.
“Oh, fuck.”
Throwing empty candy bar wrappers to the ground, I find an unopened one, ripping into the packet. Biting on a large chunk, I chew.
“Phone. I need my phone.”
I treat the cushions similarly to the candy wrappers, throwing them to the ground in search.
I dial Brooke.
“You look like shit,” she greets, her hair tied messily on the top of her head, spit-up on her shirt, and dried toothpaste on her chin.
“I fucked Reid,” I mumble around my mouthful of chocolate.
She looks at me in disgust. “All I heard was mmhamdhdkbI. Finish your mouthful.”