by N. K. Smith
With both hands wrapped around my bicep, she gives me a tug. “I’m tired. Want to go to bed?”
Again, I shake my head. “I’ll be in later,” I say. The irony of me being the one who can’t sleep isn’t lost on me.
“I can hang out for a bit. I’m not that tired.” Cole presses a kiss on my shoulder, then tickles my back with her hand. “To be honest, I didn’t really want to sleep.”
“More sex?”
She laughs lightly. “No. I just want to be close to you.”
My throat feels like it’s swollen. No words will come. This feeling will pass, but for now, it’s all encompassing.
I hope I feel better about all of this before our big convention next month. I’m not sure I can share my thoughts with her. How can I even begin to tell her how tonight has made me feel? How can I tell her I’m not so sure about us anymore?
I stare out into the New York night as I feel her next to me. I hope my mind will settle soon.
Chapter 10
Cole
“Okay, so here’s the thing, remember it’s a show,” I say to the group of actors who bonded throughout the filming of Tortured Desires as we wait by the glass doors. It’s midsummer, and this is the convention to end all conventions. The studio has arranged a great promotional opportunity for Tortured Desires, but none of these young actors have ever experienced anything like this.
Right outside the doors are hundreds of reporters and fans. We’ve shielded the cast from the madness up until now. Devon has been recognized, but not mauled. As we finished shooting Reflections, a few fangirls found out where his apartment was, and they began to camp out. We solved the problem by him making an appearance, posing for pictures, and signing his name to scraps of paper. Easy enough.
The trailers for Tortured Desires have already been leaked to the Internet—I suspect by the studio, so the interest is huge right now, and these unknowns are about to be launched into stardom today. The studio is sparing no expense in promoting it and with the attractive cast and my name behind it, there is no telling how high this film will go.
“So if you’re going to get through this, just shut everyone out.” I dramatically pull out my MP3 player and place the buds in my ears.
I pull them back out when Devon asks, “You don’t care what they’re saying?”
“Nope. We’re going from the hotel to the limo. We’re not getting sidetracked by photos or autographs today. There’ll be another time for that.”
Liliana pipes up. “But what if—”
“You’re a star now. You don’t have time to deal with the what-ifs of photogs and journalists. You control the situation, or it’ll control you.” To be honest, I don’t worry about Liliana. I can already tell she loves the limelight. She has been practically bred for it. Liliana already has her charming starlet smile in place. It’s Devon I worry about. He looks a bit sick. The others just look nervous. I push my concern for Devon down and address the cast as a whole. “Are you ready? Just remember, you are the stars. Everything you say and do should be aimed at pushing your careers forward.”
I replace the earbuds and push open the door. Walking out into the controlled mob of people, I paste a smile on my face and hold up my hand in a friendly wave. The music almost drowns out the noise. I see my name on the lips of the crowd, but I have a mission: Get to the limo.
I can’t see the cast behind me, but I know Devon and the others are holding their own.
“Jesus, that was exhausting.” It was a long, six hour day of shaking hands, signing posts and shirts, and smiling for pictures.
I smile as I sink down next to Devon and hand him a beer. “Just wait until tomorrow. The panel will wipe you out completely, but you’ve got time to recuperate before the press junket and premier next month.”
“I thought movies took longer to edit and release.”
“They usually do, but the studio has fast-tracked Tortured Desires.” I put my fingers in his hair and lightly scratch at his scalp. Like always, his eyes close, but he doesn’t relax.
The pit inside of me where I house all my disappointments and sadness aches again. Ever since Devon and I went to New York after wrapping Tortured Desires, the steady drops of anguish have added to the cavernous depths of the pit. Recently, the drops have been transforming into downfalls and gushes of regret and failure.
Devon has changed, and I know I’ve caused it. He seems unhappy with me and our relationship. I don’t know how to fix it, and he won’t tell me.
I know the love he has expressed is still there, but it’s hidden and guarded now. Most days he just goes through the motions. I’d love to chalk it up to the ups and downs of impending celebrity, but in my heart, I know it’s deeper than that. It is what kills every loving connection I’ve ever had. It is my inability to give others what they need and want without protecting myself first.
“Why do you look so sad?”
My eyes focus at the sound of his voice, and I rush to pull back the welling tears and shake my head. “I’m not sad.”
“You never tell me anything, Cole. I’m like an open book and you’re some kind of coded tome locked away in the depths of the National Archives.”
“Sorry.” I am sorry, but feel powerless to change it.
It’s his turn to shake his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s just you. I know that.”
I’m eager to change the topic. “Did you read the article on Jeremy Locker’s site?” I know he didn’t, so I don’t wait for an answer. “It’s all about you and Liliana. He suspects you both are hiding a love affair, and the stories about you and I were fabricated to keep the press off the real story.”
“That’s great. What the studio wants.”
I don’t know how to bridge this gap, so I fall back on standby tactics of kissing his cheek and running my hand up his thigh. Then I cup his cock in my hand before shifting to sit astride him. Devon downs the last of his beer, and I take the bottle and set it on the coffee table beside us.
His hands are on my hips; his eyes steady on my face.
“We haven’t messed around on the guitars in forever,” I say. “Tomorrow night, let’s—”
“I don’t really feel musically inspired, and if tomorrow’s going to be more draining than today, I don’t imagine it’ll be any different.”
I push my hands up under his shirt and move in to lick his neck.
“Besides, I’ve got that dinner with the rest of the cast.”
I pull back. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, the studio arranged it. There are going to be a couple of pictures that will find their way to the press of Lili and me sitting close together. At some point I have to lean and whisper something into her ear.”
After taking a deep breath, I paste another understanding smile on my face. I unzip his pants and take his cock out to stroke it. “And I’m not supposed to be there?”
Devon looks away. “They think Lili and I will have an easier time selling it if you’re not there.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Devon shifts down on the sofa, increasing my access to his hardening cock. “They have a point.”
My grip on him tightens, and he grunts. “They do?”
“You’re intimidating, Cole. Lili’s worried you’ll ruin her career if she does something wrong, and—”
“Why? I’ve never done anything to her.”
“Because you have so much power. And it’s not like I’m going to feel comfortable putting even pretend moves on her when you’re sitting right there.”
I don’t stop stroking him as we talk. In fact, I’m a little more aggressive than usual when pumping him. Jerking him off lube-free requires a kinder, gentler approach; one that I’m not using right now. He hisses, but doesn’t make any difference to get me to stop. “You’ll be acting, right? You guys got pretty hot in a few scenes, you know?”
“Not. The. Same.” Devon grunts. His head is thrown back against the back of the couch, his fingers digging into me.<
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He comes, coating my hand and shooting it onto my gray yoga pants. I let go as if his dick is fire. I want to move away, but his hands are still holding me.
When he recovers, he looks me straight in the eyes, and I think I might see some remnant of genuine affection for me in them. “Those scenes were Maya and Jamie connecting. It’s not the same as pretending to be secretly in love. We were selling a scene. With this shit, we have to sell ourselves, and it’s not easy. Lili’s been crying a lot because her boyfriend’s freaking out, and ultimately, she knows they won’t last because of this bullshit.”
The implication of what will happen to us hangs over our heads. Another deluge cascades into the pit within me. There is nothing to say, and he doesn’t want to hear it anyway.
Devon holds me close, then switches our position. He’s careful when he tugs down my pants and tosses them behind him. He still makes the same sound of pleasure he always makes when he sees my exposed flesh, but it doesn’t have the same effect on me. It feels like we’re just going through the motion until we achieve the end result.
After I climax, while I’m still on my back, we have sex. It’s nothing earth shattering or amazing, but we both have an orgasm. When we’re done and his head is on my chest, I run my fingers through his slightly damp hair. “I love you,” I murmur. I hate this distance between us, but it seems inevitable.
His automatic response is the same. “I love you, too.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” I whisper back.
He gets off me, and says, “And I don’t know if I’ve ever believed you love me, so we’re finally on equal footing.”
“What if we just ride together and step out on the red carpet holding hands?”
“That would be beautiful,” I respond as I study this evening’s dress still hanging up on the bathroom door. We have the premier of Tortured Desires tonight. It’s been a while since we wrapped the film, but only a few months since the convention. Things haven’t gotten much better between us, but it seems both of us still have a childish hope that things will work out.
Well, at times we do. Devon is more hopeful than I am, but he is still in denial of what being a Hollywood star means. It hasn’t hit him yet.
Devon presses his naked body up against mine. “Let’s do it,” he says.
“You start filming the sequel in two months.”
“So?”
“So? So you don’t want to lose it. It’ll solidify your career and the money will be—”
“What if I say I want to give it all up so I can be with you? Openly.”
I turn in his hold and run my hands down his strong back. Things have gotten better since that night at the convention, but only because I’ve surrendered to the idea that my time with him is limited. I’ve started being more emotive with him, touching him more, letting myself voice every thought I have about how wonderful he is.
“You’re an independent person, and at some point, you’ll be resentful you did that. Let’s just get through this contract and when the third film is released, we’ll shout our love from the mountain tops.” My spirit lightens when I hear him chuckle.
Devon lifts me and places me on the edge of the vanity. His lips trail down the line of my jaw, to the hollow of my throat, then back up the other side. “Does this mean we have to pull the old limo swicharoo?”
“Yes. We’ll arrive separate and afterward, we’ll go to the party, then leave separately and meet up to come home.”
He sighs against my ear; his body slumps just a little.
“I know you’re tired of it.”
“But I love you, so I’ll do this until we don’t have to anymore.”
At the premier, I look down the carpet to see Devon shining in front of the cameras. He is so cool in front of them now. I wish I could be down there with him, holding his hand like he suggested. I watch as Liliana passes him and they share a small smile. Her hand reaches out. Just the tips of her fingers graze his open palm.
It seems like a million flashes go off. It’s a struggle to remember it’s an act and he’ll be in my arms in a few short hours—that he loves me, not Liliana.
“Who are you wearing?”
I turn my attention back to the reporter and remember to smile. “This was designed by my friend, Mic Gutierrez.”
Devon’s mouth is hot against my skin. He is drunk from the premiere party, but I take the affection he gives me. Despite the creeping distance between us, this affection is real and more than what we’ve shared in a while.
His hands are all over me as we’re driven through the streets of Los Angeles. The limo switches went as planned, and I’m pretty sure no one is following us.
Devon sucks on my neck hard enough that I know he’ll leave a mark, but I don’t care. The feel of it sends waves of lust right to the core of me. I’m wet and eager to sink down on him. I don’t want much foreplay. The way the slight stubble of his chin brushes against my collarbone is enough. How his hands massage my ass sufficiently readies me for him to come in me.
Devon moves his hands up to pull the straps of my dress down, baring my breasts to him. Very deliberately, he lowers his head and pulls one nipple into his mouth. It’s warm and wet and wonderful. Instinct tells me to press into him, force him to move faster. But something quieter, yet more demanding tells me to savor this, to memorize every sensation of this moment.
There is a slowness to his actions, and I decide not to care if it’s from the alcohol or because he wants to take every second to appreciate the beauty in our connection. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re here together right now.
My fingers in his hair, I grind myself down on him. A small moan escapes me. I tilt his head up and kiss him. It’s the kind of deep kiss that saturates every part of my being. Through it I mean to tell him how much I want him, how much I love him, and how much I miss him.
Devon seems to mirror my feelings about foreplay. He wraps his hands around the back of my thin panties and pulls. There is a sting as the fabric roughs up my delicate skin, but the knowledge I’m only a moment away from true connection, true union with him takes it away.
Despite my desire to relish the moment, to drag it out, the need to be one with him overpowers the other, so in a flurry of motion, I unzip and untuck him, and stroke him for just a few seconds, then position myself over him. The slide down seems to last forever, and I delight in the sensation of being stretched by his cock. He fits so nicely within me.
My muscles contract around him. His soft breath, laced with want and need, brings my eyes down to his. I’m so happy to see the love, the hope, the unbridled desire in them. “Devon,” I whisper.
He leans up and sucks my chin before engaging my lips in another all-encompassing kiss.
With both hands back on my hips, he rocks me forward, then pushes me back. It’s simple; it’s some of the most basic sex I’ve had in a while, but it reminds me of how sex with Devon isn’t just sex, it’s not just fucking, it’s something more.
It’s not about the end result, the orgasm. It’s about the journey, the sensations, the building of tension as we show through our bodies how much we love each other.
The soft layering of emotion and sensation, how we can feel each other’s thoughts and how every touch makes me shiver, brings me closer and closer to him. I never want it to end even though I know the limo will stop and the beauty of this quiet dream will fade.
He presses a kiss into my shoulder and moves my hips faster. “Come, baby,” he whispers.
I let my eyes close and focus on the movements I know bring us both closer and closer to the climax.
I love how his noises increase with mine. I love how his breathing is ragged like mine, and how our bodies clutch each other. I love knowing when I feel the intense heat and overwhelming crash of pleasure, he feels the same thing.
I don’t understand the tears in my eyes as I collapse against him. I don’t understand why the special, real moment we’ve just shared, feels like
a conclusion. I don’t know why I suspect the changing of the tides.
“Cole . . .”
The way he murmurs my name makes my heart flutter, but he doesn’t wrap his arms around me. The question of how long this can last thumps against my chest.
Chapter 11
Devon
It’s been several months and I’ve been all over the world with Liliana promoting this film. Each location gets crazier and crazier. She is awesome at this celebrity stuff and is comfortable in front of the cameras and interviewers. Liliana is fearless, and it is amazing to see her with fans. She is so different from Cole, who can hold her own out in the spotlight, but doesn’t thrive in it.
I haven’t seen Cole in a while. She made the first few stops with us, but after that it’s been just the two of us with a few others sprinkled here and there.
At first the tour was great because no one had seen the movie or knew who Liliana and I were. We got to see the sights, but now things have exploded and we’re stuck in the hotel rooms, surrounded by security. I’m sure it’ll settle down soon. It’s not like this movie is going to change the world or anything. It’s just because all the teens are crazy about it right now. We’ve taken to hanging out in each other’s rooms since there is nothing else to do and no one else to do it with.
“I think tomorrow when we walk, I should be, like, right in front of you and sort of hold my hand back, like I’m reaching for you.” Liliana pauses to sip her Diet Coke through the straw. “It’ll be like I’m subconsciously yearning for you. I bet it makes the news.”
“We should totally do it.” I can’t help but chuckle. She’s actually really good at making the public and media think we’re a secret thing. We were making a game out of the lies, placing bets, but now I know better than to bet against her.
The conversation lulls again as I re-read the last few messages sent and received on my cell.