Suddenly Famous: A Famous Novella (Famous Series Book 5)

by Heather Leigh

  “Mate, I’ve been surrounded by fans, but they’ve never ripped my clothes off or scratched the shite out of my skin.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, looking at the door as the bouncer comes back inside.

  “Your hire car’s out front,” he says. “Close as he can get. I overheard a girl say that Twitter posted your location here.” He looks at me directly, his dark eyes searching mine. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

  “Do you have any other bouncers that can help us get outside?” Sydney asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  The big man swivels his head to face her, then grins. “I reckon I might. Give me a minute.” He moves up the stairs with more grace than a man his size should be able to manage.

  “Fucking Twitter,” I grunt, fisting my wild hair in frustration.

  “I know exactly how you feel about those types of sites,” Sydney says empathetically.

  I nod in agreement, glancing upstairs periodically for the bouncer to come back with our help. Christ, Sydney’s been stabbed, cyber stalked, and run off the road by paparazzi. She seems to be in a hell of a lot better shape than me. I’m falling the fuck apart.

  She did disappear for twelve years. Is that what it’s going to take for me to get better?

  Loud footsteps stomping down the stairway alert us to the arrival of our own personal cavalry. Four large men come down to the tiny entryway, suddenly making the space feel very very small.

  “Ready?” The original bouncer asks us?

  “Yes,” I choke out. “What’s your name?”

  “Isaac,” he says, grinning. “Now, let’s get you lot home.”

  Adam smiles like he’s about to open his Christmas presents, quite obviously entertained by this circus. Sydney looks as terrified as I feel, and Leah, well, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet how horrific my fans can be.

  The big guys surround us as we burst out of the club, right into a wall of screaming females. Flashes from paparazzi that somehow joined the party start popping in our eyes, blinding us and making each step difficult. Isaac and his friends do a superb job of keeping most of the girls back, but a few manage to sneak their greedy hands in, grabbing at my shirt, my pants, and even my trademark hair.

  “Ow! Jesus,” I yell when someone jerks a hunk of hair, ripping it out by the roots.

  Now they’re taking my fucking hair?

  We’re stuffed into the back of the car before I can blink, the door slamming shut behind us.

  “You okay Ry? You look sick.” Leah is running her hands over my back and arms, knowing without asking that physical contact with her helps to keep me from going over the edge.

  I reach up to finger the back of my scalp where it still stings. “Someone ripped out my hair.”

  “What?” Leah shouts. She grabs my head and pulls it over so she can look. “Holy crap, Ry! You’re missing a spot! Those fuckers!”

  She releases my head and I laugh. There’s nothing at all funny about this, but I find Leah’s protective hostility hilarious for some reason. It’s sort of an ‘if you don’t laugh you’ll have a nervous breakdown’ reaction.

  Adam tries to stifle it, but he can’t, laughing with me until we’re both doubled over, snorting and coughing in a hideous display. When we finally catch our breath, the girls are staring at us open-mouthed, most likely thinking that we’re both idiots.

  Laughing is better than freaking out and going catatonic, so I consider it an improvement.

  London just might turn out to be the best, or worst, three months of my life. Either way, it’s going to be a freaky ride.

  Chapter 11

  With a shaking hand, I pick up my phone and dial Dr. Benton’s number in New York. With the six-hour time difference, it’s nine in the morning there, so she should be in the office.

  “Dr. Benton’s office.”

  “Sandy, this is Ryker Bancroft, is Dr. Benton available to talk?”

  “Let me check Mr. Bancroft, please hold.” I listen to dreary elevator music while waiting for the doctor to pick up. For a psychiatrist’s office, you’d think they’d have more upbeat music to listen to. This crap is damn depressing.

  “Ryker?”

  “Hi, Dr. Benton. Do you have a minute?” I wipe my sweaty forehead with a nearby T-shirt I had tossed over a chair.

  Papers start shuffling on the other end of the line. “Yes, I have ten minutes until my next appointment. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m still having nightmares. About the, you know, about what happened.” I shudder to think about the flood of red I saw when I woke up from a nap in my trailer this afternoon.

  “Alright. Is the girl still in them?”

  She’s talking about Brooke, the teen who killed herself. “Yes, usually. I’m also…” I hesitate, feeling stupid discussing this with anyone.

  “Also what, Ryker?”

  I swipe a hand though my sweaty hair, having woken up soaked, my pulse racing though my veins. “I’m also a little afraid to leave my hotel or my trailer. To be in public.” I relay what happened at LowRent, the club we visited the other night, and the vicious mob of women who were waiting for me outside. Add in the fact that Leah and Sydney think someone is spying on us, it’s made me a nervous wreck.

  “Ryker, it’s perfectly natural to be wary of strangers after everything you’ve been through. Keep taking the anxiety medication I gave you on an as needed basis. We should meet up as soon as you get back, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks, doc.”

  “You’re very welcome Ryker. Call me anytime.”

  “Right, bye.”

  I disconnect the call, quickly stripping off my damp clothes to grab a shower. When I woke up from my nap, I was distracted by the anxiety. Now that I’ve had a moment to calm down, I realize that I’ve only had a few nightmares since arriving in London, and only when I sleep alone. Naps I take during the day when Leah’s off shopping or sightseeing with some of the crew or with Sydney.

  I wrap a towel around my waist and check the time. I’m not needed on set for another hour. Leah probably won’t be back for a while either.

  I find my phone to send her a quick text before getting in the shower.

  Me

  I turn on some music, hoping it will help me relax. That dream really freaked me out. Just like it always does. Maybe even more since I haven’t had one in a few weeks. It felt more vivid.

  Leah

  Smiling, I type a response immediately. Hearing from Leah soothes my uneasiness.

  Me

  Leah <;) what should I wear? >

  My cock jerks awake at the direction this conversation has taken.

  Me

  The phone beeps right away.

  Leah

  Shit! Now I’m hard as steel and wearing only a towel.

  I throw the phone down on the bed and stalk out of the tiny bedroom that takes up most of one end of the luxury trailer that I use as a refuge when we’re on location. The bathroom is fairly large for a trailer, but still small.

  I crank the water on, waiting impatiently for it to get hot, annoyed that my dick hasn’t budged an inch. It’s still rock hard and ready to go. Shit, I have to do a run through of tomorrow’s scene before finishing for the day.

  The towel falls from my hips, landing in a soft pile on the floor. I grab the base of my shaft and squeeze, desperately trying to control my defiant cock. All I manage to do is get even harder.

  Fuck! I step into the shower enclosure and let the hot water rain down on me until my entire body is wet. Placing my palms on the tile, the shower pounds on my back, loosening the various knots and relaxing the muscles. My cock, however, remains unaffected.

  All I can think about is Leah showing up in my trailer naked, waiting for me when I get back from the set. She’s splayed out on my bed, with her hair fanned across the sheets, her toned legs spread wide in
invitation.

  Jesus. I grab the soap and slick up my hand, leaving one on the wall to brace myself. When my fingers wrap around my heated shaft, a moan rips from my throat.

  God, this is going to be quick.

  My hand twists over the sensitive head, the soap making it easy to slide back down my shaft. I shudder with pleasure. Closing my eyes, I picture Leah’s sweet pink pussy, open and wet and waiting for me to dive in for a taste. I thump my forehead on the wall next to my hand, needing the extra support as my knees grow weak.

  I move faster, adding a toe-curling twist to each stroke over my swollen head. Electricity coils up in my spine, the pressure in my balls tightens until it’s almost uncomfortable but fucking amazing at the same time. In my mind, Leah’s hand drops between her legs so I can watch as she lightly flicks her clit. That’s it for me. Between ragged breaths, hot cum shoots onto the wall as a burst of light explodes behind my eyelids.

  I continue stroking until my dick is so sensitive it feels raw and my calves begin to cramp from tensing up.

  Shit.

  Turning around, I lean back against the tile, my chest heaving from the intensity of the orgasm. Damn, that’s what I get for teasing Leah about her clothing, or lack thereof. I quickly clean off and step out of the shower. There’s only fifteen minutes until they need me on set for blocking and a final run through of a fight scene.

  The girl isn’t even here and she’s making me late for work. I smile and let out a small laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. Who knew that a one hundred-pound pastry chef and explosive little firecracker could completely change my life in just a few short months?

  I just hope that nothing changes with Leah when we get back to New York. Everyday life as Ryker Bancroft has a way of making people run away.

  The shrill ring of my phone interrupts my life affirming moment. I snatch it up, annoyed at the intrusion.

  “Yeah!”

  “Ryker, you’re needed on set, like five minutes ago.”

  “Crap, sorry Britt. On my way.”

  “Where is your head, Ry?” my best friend asks, sounding puzzled.

  I laugh as I recall what just happened in the shower. “You really don’t want to know.”

  Chapter 12

  “So Ryker, how did filming in London go?”

  Dr. Benton is sitting in her usual chair, her legs crossed at the ankle, notepad and pen at the ready.

  I shift in my seat, still self-conscious of her calm, steady gaze, even after months of visits. “It went great, mostly. Actually no, there were a few minor incidents, and a weird spying thing, which freaked me out. Honestly though? For the most part I had a lot of fun.”

  She smiles, “That’s good to hear. You only had to call me twice over two and a half months, so I consider that a step in the right direction. The intrusion of privacy was probably tough on you, but you seem well.”

  “Yeah, it feels like it’s getting easier. Sleeping, I mean. I haven’t taken the pills for a while and the nightmares are pretty rare. Dealing with the other shit, the intrusiveness, I guess I’m getting used to it. It’s easier to deal with now that I’m not alone.” I rub my neck and look out of the large window in Dr. Benton’s office. She has a view of the East River with the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges looming in the distance. “It’s just…” I stop, having trouble coming up with words to describe what I want to say.

  “What’s that, Ryker?”

  “I still feel guilty, I guess. About the girl, Brooke. The nightmares, whenever I sleep by myself… I want to stop feeling that way, but then it doesn’t seem fair. You know? To go on as if nothing happened when there’s a girl dead.” I suck in an uneven breath and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “I can’t tell you how to feel, Ryker. I can tell you that what happened is absolutely not your fault. But I think you know that already. You have to be able to let it go, which doesn’t mean marginalizing the girl’s pain or her unfortunate death. It means allowing yourself to have a life and be happy even though she chose to end hers.”

  “I know.” I look up and meet Dr. Benton’s kind eyes.

  “You said you’re doing okay with the lack of privacy by the press. How are you coping with being out in public?” She scribbles something on her pad and waits silently for me to answer.

  My pulse speeds up, causing sweat to start beading up between my shoulder blades. “It’s been… shit, it’s been bad. I don’t really go out much. Only if my girlfriend pressures me, and even then, we only go to her friend’s house or somewhere private.”

  “You’re still thinking about what happened to her friend, the one who was attacked by a fan?”

  My tongue feels thick, and I have to swallow to clear my throat. “Yeah. Every time a fan gets near me, I wonder if it’s going to be my turn. If this is going to be the person crazy enough to end my life.”

  She tilts her head thoughtfully at me, as if she knows I’m right on the edge of losing it. “Alright, Ryker.” Dr. Benton puts her notepad and pen down on the table. “I think that’s enough for today. Next week?”

  “Sure. I’ll have to call you because I’m going to Boston for the weekend. I’m not sure how long we’re staying yet.” I stand up so I can shake the doctor’s hand.

  “Of course. I’m happy to see you with someone, Ryker. She seems good for you. Don’t give up on your freedom. Not yet, okay?”

  “Right. I know doc. I’ll call you or have Britt call you about next week.”

  “Leah, you look so hot. I want to tear that dress off of you and lick every inch of your body.” Leah gives me a scorching look from the other side of our living room at the Four Seasons in Boston. I take a step towards her.

  “Don’t!” She holds her hands up to keep me away, making me laugh. “I mean it, Ry. We have to be at Drew’s charity ball in twenty minutes and we’re already going to be late.”

  I smirk, “It’s not my fault we’re going to be late. You’re the one who attacked me in the shower.” Thoughts of bending Leah over and taking her from behind in the huge walk-in shower play over in my head.

  She grins at the memory. “I know. And it was worth every minute that we’re going to be late, but we have to leave.” Leah steps into her heels and buckles the complicated straps. If I’ve learned one thing about her, it’s that she loves fashion, especially shoes. Not that I’m complaining if every pair is like the ones she’s putting on. Gunmetal gray and covered in buckles and straps, they remind me of handcuffs, which makes me think dirty things.

  Crap. I adjust my semi-erect cock and groan.

  Leah’s sharp eyes land on my crotch, an eyebrow arching up. “Problems?” she asks seductively.

  I walk over and bury my nose in her hair so I can whisper, “Yes, you’re too fucking sexy for your own good.”

  She pretends to be unaffected, but I hear the tiny gasp she makes when I brush my lips over her neck.

  “Let’s go. The car is waiting,” I tell her.

  Leah scowls, but lets me help her up from the couch. I quickly grab her hips and press them against mine so she can see just how sexy I think she is.

  “Are you planning on walking into the restaurant with that thing?” she asks playfully, running her hands up and down my chest, sneaking one down to grope my cock.

  I tilt down to crush my mouth over hers, the lust I feel burning deep inside flames up into a full five-alarm blaze. Out of breath already, I step back, swiping at my damp lips with my thumb. Leah’s eyes are shining, her pupils dilated with desire. “That’s what the privacy window in the limo is for,” I tease.

  The shocked look on her face is worth the throbbing ache that tortures my cock. She composes herself and narrows her eyes, but doesn’t say a word.

  In the elevator, we lean against opposite sides, staring each other down but not trusting ourselves to touch. This hotel has cameras in every elevator. That’s one part of my life I don’t want caught on tape. By the time we hit the lobby, we’re both trying to hide the fact that we want to rip each o
ther’s clothes off and fuck like animals on the floor. I have to hold my jacket in front of me so I’m not parading through a five star hotel with a tent in my pants.

  I hear my name from several different directions in the lobby and catch a glimpse of a few cell phones being pointed our way. I put my free hand on Leah’s back, directing her to move faster towards the main entrance. We slip outside, into the waiting limo before anyone can get close to us.

  “Thank God,” I mutter as the door slams shut and the driver takes off. Lowering the partition, I speak to the chauffeur, “How far is the restaurant?”

  “Fifteen minutes, sir.”

  “Take the long way,” I instruct him, closing the partition without waiting for an answer. Leah is watching me carefully, waiting to see what I do next. “Did you bring lipstick?”

  She blinks and her mouth falls open. “Yes, why?”

  I grab her face and crush my lips to hers, devouring her mouth in wide, greedy strokes. Our tongues curl together, teeth clashing in a desperate race against the clock. Smirking, I separate from her mouth so I can kneel on the floor in front of her. I put my hands on her knees and skim up the insides of her thighs until I’m an inch from the heat in between.

  “Ry.” Leah tries to bend down for a kiss but I lean back, just out of reach. She’s about to chastise me for denying her when I force her legs apart and wedge my body between them. I trail a finger up and down the damp center of her panties, drawing a hiss out of Leah from the contact.

  “Wet already?” I continue to trace a line over the thin layer of satin that separates me from that delicious pussy of hers.

  Leah groans and throws her head back, the creamy skin on her throat pulsing with each heartbeat. My dick is growing impatient, the sight of her spread out, designer gown hiked up around her waist, is enough to make me come in my pants.