by K. M. Scott
Kristina places her drink on the counter and nuzzles my neck, sending strings of excitement racing through my body. “Maybe I want something less sweet.”
“I can do less sweet too,” I say and tug hard on her hair, pulling her head back so she has to look at me. I look down into those cornflower blue eyes staring up at me with such need. “I can definitely do less sweet.”
Biting her lip, she moans softly. “Yes. Please.”
What she wants is to be dominated. Not with whips, chains, or any of that other bullshit that’s more props than anything else. No, what she wants is me to make her body surrender like no other man has.
I pull her hair harder into my grip, and she doesn’t wince in pain so much as in pleasure. A tiny moan escapes from her lips, making my cock swell. I want to conquer her, to make her mine and only mine.
My hand roughly slides down to between her legs and I thrust two fingers into her already dripping pussy. Her eyes grow wide at the invasion, and I ask, “Whose is this?”
“Yours,” she says in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.
“Say my name,” I order. “Whose is this?”
“Ian’s.”
I slowly slide my fingers out of her only to ram them back into her warm and willing body. She wants it rougher, but not yet. Eventually.
“Fucking right.” I unzip my pants and take out my rock hard cock. She glances down toward it and bites her lip again. “And whose cock is the only one you want?”
Tentatively, she reaches out to touch me, stroking me from base to head. “Yours. I mean, Ian’s.”
I tighten my hold in her hair. “If you can’t remember my name, I think it’s time for you to learn it.”
Her eyes widen because she knows what’s coming next. I tear off her skirt and blouse, sending buttons flying everywhere around my kitchen, before I push her up against the wall. Her face wild with excitement, she whimpers as I lift her and command her to wrap her legs around my waist, and then I slam into that wet cunt that’s only mine and fuck her harder than I ever imagined she could handle.
She takes every pound, every slam into her body and begs for more. I sink my teeth into her shoulder, and she cries out but doesn’t plead for me to stop. I know her legs ache from clutching me. I know she must want to stop, but she doesn’t. Not until she gives me what I want. Not until I give her what she wants.
I feel her body begin to contract around my cock, surrendering to all the pain and pleasure I’ve given her. She whimpers, “Ian, don’t stop…harder…harder…”
I thrust my hips forward once more and bury myself in her as deep as I can as she clings to me more with every moment. Her release rushes through her and sends me over the edge, and I flood her body with all I have. I have no idea how long we stay there like that, our bodies trembling against one another and our breathing heavy and sated.
She’s small and broken afterward, but she’s mine to cradle and whisper tender words to. I carry her to the bed and hold her until all the pain eases away and all that’s left are the most exquisite moments between two people who need each other. My hands, which had inflicted so much on her as we fucked, now gently stroke her skin in love. She entwines her fingers in mine and curls our hands together under her chin as I tell her how much I adore her and mean every word as if my life depended on their truth. I listen to her breathing as she drifts off to sleep, and just before I close my eyes, I hear her sigh contentedly.
I’ve never been happier with another soul in my life.
I open my eyes as the reality of my lonely rooms bears down on me. I don’t know how to go on feeling like this. I don’t want to go on feeling like this. I need something to help me not feel at all.
I sit in front of my makeup mirror hating what stares back at me. Lines and wrinkles already and I’m only in my twenties. I use the finest creams and lotions. Why don’t they work on me? My skin looks ruddy and uncared for.
My eyes, all red-rimmed and watery looking, tell the story of who I’ve become in the past week. I cry all the time when I’m alone, which is far too often. I cry when I read those texts I sent him. I cry when I see the texts he’s sent me. I cry that he hasn’t sent me any more.
I’m a mess. A stereotypical Hollywood mess, complete with bad skin and red eyes.
I think back to my lunch with Cilla that day when all she could talk about was how I glowed. Now that’s gone and all I am is the miserable wretch that stares back at me as I try to cover her up with makeup.
Magazines I’ve appeared in sit stacked on a table next to me, but no matter how many times I thumb through their glossy pages, the compliments don’t feel real. Gorgeous eyes. Beautiful smile. Healthy skin. They all rave about my look, but it’s all lies.
I’m all lies.
I ran away from Ian because he scared me, but I’ve been miserable without him since. I thought I saw him last night, but the more I think about it, the more I know that was all in my mind. It seemed so real, though. I was on my front stairs with Gavin, a fellow actor I hope to work with in that film I screen tested for, and as he leaned in to kiss me goodnight, I thought I caught a glimpse of Ian standing in the trees across the street.
Stop doing this! You’re a Hollywood star, Kristina Richards! You can meet another man—hundreds of them, if you want, anytime you want.
I say this every time I feel down and want to go back to Ian, and it works. For a few minutes anyway. Sometimes if I’m busy during the day or I go out and see lots of men looking at me, it works for a few hours. But eventually, the truth comes back and I’m alone in my apartment missing him so much it hurts.
There’s not enough concealer to hide my dark circles and bags now. I put more on, but that only makes it worse. Frustrated, I throw it aside and move on to creating the face the world expects. Foundation for even, glowing skin that’s having a hard time finding its glow lately. Grey eyeliner and jet black mascara for smoky eyes that cry more than seduce these days. Grey eye shadow to complete that look.
I throw the shadow brush down onto my makeup table and bury my face in my hands. No matter how much I apply, it can’t change the truth. My miserable inside shows all over my outside. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I don’t stop them. I can’t. It’s like I have an inexhaustible supply of them.
All I can think of is him. What’s he doing now? Is he finished with our book? Is it even our book to him anymore? I can’t help but cry harder at the thought that it’s not our book anymore. I was his muse. He adored me and wanted to write because of me.
And what did I do? I ran away.
But he scared me. I know that scene he wrote with his character was actually about him. He was watching me.
As soon as the words form in my head, my brain discounts them as nonsense.
He adored you, and you ran away like a child who couldn’t handle being watched. Millions of people watch you every day. Do you run away from being an actress to become a sheep herder hidden away on some farm? No! So why did you run away from him?
Shaking my head, I answer my own question as I try to push those thoughts away. I don’t know why. I was scared. Now all I feel is lonely without him.
But if he loved me so much, why hasn’t he come back? Why hasn’t he tried to contact me since that night? There have been no flowers, no calls, no texts. No anything.
I lower my hands to see the mess my face has become from my tears and makeup mixing together. This is why you’re alone. You’re not beautiful, no matter how many magazines say so. They lie. Everyone lies when they say you’re beautiful and gorgeous because if you were, Ian would have come by now.
No! I can’t let those demons in me do this every time I look in the mirror. I grab a tissue and clean the mascara from under my eyes, but it’s no use. I can’t do this. No matter how much makeup I put on my face, it will never hide how unhappy I am.
A hand waves from the back of the very dark bar, and I squint my eyes to see whose it is. My friend Sienna stands from her seat and calls my name, so I begin to make m
y way through the crowds of smiling and laughing people who all look happier than I feel. I reach her and see she’s found us a table far enough away from the front of the bar that we’ll have at least a little privacy.
She’s in a black dress that makes her long blond hair stand out more than usual, and I see by the number of men around her that it will be the usual when we’re out. A line of potential second husbands stretching out the door to meet her. Not that I blame them. Between a knockout body and a gorgeous face, she physically has it all going for her. Add to those intelligence and a wickedly sharp sense of humor, and Sienna’s the whole package.
“Kristina, I thought we said nine. It’s quarter to ten. I’m already half in the bag from waiting here, not to mention the half dozen or so men I’ve had to brush off because it’s a girls’ night out.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I sit down with my back to the crowd. “It took me longer than usual to get my makeup right.”
She narrows her eyes to a judgmental squint and studies my face. “Have you been drinking already?”
I shake my head. “No. Why?”
“Your eyes are all glassy looking. What are you doing?”
Instantly more self-conscious than when I walked in the door, I lower my head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Did your makeup artist friend give you something again? I told you not to trust her. That woman is bad news.”
“No. Nothing.”
Sadie, the woman who’s been the makeup artist on my last two films, isn’t the type of person Sienna would ever spend any real time with. She’s not the right class, in her mind. It also doesn’t help that she gave me some pills one time to help me with insomnia that was crippling me and making it impossible to work. They made me a little crazy for a few days, but in Sienna’s eyes, it was intentional.
“Then what’s up with you? Cilla gave me chapter and verse about whatever regimen you’ve begun using and how you were glowing like a goddamned nuclear reactor. No offense, but either she’s blind or the effects have worn off.”
I rub my fingertips over my cheek as if to feel if the evidence of my misery is written all over my face. “You know how she is. It’s always something to rave about with her.”
The waiter arrives just in time to save me from more of this interrogation, and I order a merlot. Tonight’s definitely a merlot night. No sweet and fruity red wines for me. If I’m going to look like shit, I might as well get shitfaced.
Sienna gives my wrist a squeeze and launches back into her questioning. “So who is this mystery man you’ve begun to see lately? Cilla couldn’t talk about much of anything else, except your glowing, of course. I want details.”
“Wouldn’t you rather tell me all about your new movie? I mean, this is looking like it’s going to be the one,” I say, hoping to use her inherent actor’s ego to my advantage, but she isn’t having any of it. Unlike Cilla, Sienna knows when bullshit is being thrown her way. It’s one of the reasons I consider her such a dear friend.
“Kristina, what’s going on here? You look like shit, show up nearly an hour late, and now you don’t want to tell me about this guy. You can tell me. This is Sienna you’re talking to, not some stranger. We’ve talked each other through all the ups and downs. Well, talked and drank, which is perfect since we’re in a bar. I promise to keep the alcohol flowing if you promise to talk. You look like you need it.”
I want so much to tell someone about Ian and how much I miss him. I’m not even afraid of turning into a sobbing mess in public. At least I’d be able to unburden myself of my misery. But I can’t because I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone about us and I keep my promises.
Even if there isn’t an us anymore.
“We aren’t seeing each other now. It’s over.”
Sienna’s expression tells me how awful I must look. Her deep brown eyes fill with pity, and she gives my wrist another squeeze, this time one of those empathetic “I’m here for you” squeezes. “What happened?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, Sienna. It’s just over. I feel terrible about it, though, so if this girls’ night can help me forget, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Got it!” she says with loads of enthusiasm as she raises her hand to get the attention of the waiter. “We’re going to need something more than wine then.”
The man returns to our table and she instructs him to bring over a bottle of his finest cognac. Never a huge fan of brandy, I grimace at the thought of a cognac hangover. As he walks away, I lean toward her and say, “I’m not really a big cognac drinker, Sienna.”
“Honey, the cognac isn’t to drink so much as to advertise for a certain kind of man. Look around this bar. You’ve got beer drinkers, who you can do better than; wine drinkers, who aren’t really what I think would help you forget anyone; and liquor drinkers. Within that last group are men who understand that if a woman can afford to drink the finest cognac in the house, then she’s expecting a certain level of man. That’s the man I’m trying to find for you tonight.”
The thought of going with anyone other than Ian fills me with dread. I try to pretend that I’m all for her plan, but inside I wish I was back in my apartment on my couch reading his book instead of sitting in a bar full of men Sienna planned on having audition for the role of my next boyfriend.
“I’m not ready to meet anyone new yet,” I say as the bottle of cognac arrives at our table.
Sienna pours each of us a drink and lifts her glass to make a toast. “I’m not talking about starting some long term relationship, Kristina. Tonight’s about finding someone to give you a good lay and make you forget the mystery man. To great sex and its healing powers!”
I clink my glass and lift it to my lips to take a drink. I have to admit it does taste nice. Maybe I’ve only had cheaper cognac before.
Her plan works almost instantly, and within a few minutes men begin to surround our table, each one dying to join us at what’s obviously a celebration. If they only knew how depressed I truly am, they’d be running away instead of doing their best to win us. I smile and laugh at their jokes, but I can’t help but notice that most of them are far more interested in Sienna than in me.
Not that this is a bad thing. The idea to drink and then fuck Ian out of my mind was never going to work, no matter how I tried. Sienna may not believe it, but I know the truth. I love him and nothing and no one else could change that. Love isn’t something that can just be replaced.
“My name is Brian. What’s yours?” a voice says, tearing me out of my fog of thinking about where I really want to be at that moment.
I look at the man seated next to me and smile. Attractive with wavy brown hair and brown eyes, he looks like a banker or businessman in his expensive grey pinstriped suit. “I’m Kristina. It’s nice to meet you, Brian.”
“You look out of place here, Kristina. By that I mean, you don’t look like you want to be here.”
So perfect strangers can see it too.
“No, I’m having a good time. My friend and I are out for a girls’ night out.” Looking across the table, I see Sienna has a man on each side of her, both working hard for her attention.
“It just seems your heart isn’t in this,” he says with a gentle smile that shows his very white teeth.
“I’m not as good at it as Sienna, I think. Some people shine in crowds. Others are less comfortable and prefer one-on-one.”
I take a drink of my wine and feel a rush of heat cross my cheeks as I realize I’ve just intimated I want to be alone with him. I don’t, but at that moment as the merlot settles into me, I don’t want to be alone. He might not be the man I want, but at least he’s someone who likes me.
“Would you like another drink?”
My wine glass is almost empty, so I nod. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Brian raises his arm to get the server’s attention and then turns his attention back to me. “Kristina, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m an actress.�
�� I don’t say it, but I can’t help thinking I’m not a very successful one since I’m able to sit in a bar with hundreds of people around and not be noticed, however.
He nods and pretends to be interested, but I see in his eyes a look of disappointment as he explains his job as a day trader. I listen intently for any sign that he has the passion I love to find in people, but Brian is a businessman through and through. There’s nothing really wrong with that, but I like my men to be more intense and creative.
Like Ian.
We continue to talk, each of us pretending there’s anything interesting about the other person beyond looks, but Sienna’s plan has failed. Looking across the table, I see that’s only partially true. I might not have met anyone I have any interest in, but by the look on her face, she’s definitely interested in the blond man sitting close to her.
At least one of us will be happy tonight.
I look at Brian and say, “I think I’m going to head home. It was very nice to meet you.” Stretching my hand across the table, I tap on Sienna’s arm to get her attention. “I’m going home. I’m just going to catch a cab, so don’t worry about me. Talk to you later.”
“Are you sure? There’s more cognac. We can move to the other side of the bar, if you like.” Sienna’s not-so-subtle way of asking if I’m leaving because I dislike Brian makes me laugh, and after rolling my eyes toward him to hopefully show him I’m not leaving because of him, I shake my head.
“I think it’s just an early night for me. Enjoy yourself.”
I turn to say goodbye to Brian, but he’s standing now and I sense he’s looking to take our conversation outside. Why I can’t imagine since neither one of us set anything on fire with our discussion of how exciting we think our jobs are.
Sienna gives me a look as if to say, “Is it okay he’s going?” but I just nod and smile. Some company as I wait for a cab won’t be a horrible thing, even if it’s just someone silently standing next to me.
Of course, the minute I get outside it seems that every cab in the city has disappeared suddenly. I look up and down the street over and over, but nothing. It’s like fate is forcing me to move on, even though I don’t want to.