by N. K. Smith
By the time my finger is surrounded by the heat of her lips, she is wet enough to be fucked. I don’t think it would be that much fun to do it right now, so I continue exploring her folds with nothing more than my fingers. “Baby, I need these open,” I say in a light tone. How am I going to get her to come if she doesn’t part her legs?
Liliana sucks in a little breath and nods. Finally, I’m able to pull her knees a part just a little. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper when I see what she has been guarding.
I gently slide my middle finger inside of her and work her clit with my thumb. I get her worked up and try to move down to put my face where my hand is, but her legs tighten, and I get no farther than her mid-thigh. “You don’t want—”
“I just want you.” She sits up to grab my shoulders and pulls me over her.
My dick won’t let me think about much other than being in her, so I lay myself out on top of her and start kissing her neck.
Those little breasts feel great pressed against my chest, and her thighs finally drop open, letting my groin nuzzle hers. I wedge one hand down our bodies to position my cock at her entrance, but she puts a hand on my chest. It takes just about all the control I gather to keep from growling in frustration.
“Condom?” Lili asks as she twists down to the floor, her hips still pinned under mine. She plucks out a foil package from the pocket of her jeans. All of the sudden, I wonder if she always carries condoms in her pockets, and I realize it’s been a while since I had to wear one. Collette let me off that hook once we were exclusive.
But the close proximity of a pussy to my stiff cock keeps me from thinking much more about either though, so instead, I just open the package and roll the condom down my shaft. I go back to positioning.
It feels so good and tight sliding into her. She clutches my shoulders just as tightly as the walls of her vagina grip my dick. I think she moans, but to be honest, all I can hear is my own satisfied grunt when I’m in to the hilt.
She acts like she has never done this before, so I start off nice and slow, just a simple in and out motion, until I convince myself she can handle stronger thrusts. After that, I roll my hips a bit as I pull them back and push them forward. My hands are all over her tits, but hers are glue either on my ass or my shoulders. When I glance down at her face, I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain I’m causing her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Lili’s only response is a nod.
After a while, I’m ready to come, and I’m not sure I can wait much longer for her to have an orgasm. “Is this good?” I whisper.
“So good.”
“Are you . . . are you close?”
“Uh-huh.” Again Lili nods, but she won’t open her eyes, so I can’t tell if it’s an honest answer or just something I want to hear.
She bites my shoulder, and I come with a deep, body-shaking shudder. Three quick jabs into her, and I collapse down.
Liliana runs soft fingers over my back and through my hair. For some reason, even after I recover, I’m reluctant to leave the safety of her arms, but I can’t lay on top of her forever, so I pull away.
I can’t look at her face as I throw the condom away and grab a cold beer from the small hotel refrigerator. She already has her panties and camisole on when I return to her. I pull on my boxer-briefs before flopping down next to her.
“Was that okay?” I look at the cheap piece of art on the wall, then take a long pull off the bottle.
“It was great.” Liliana snuggles up close to me, head on my chest, arm pressed against my abdomen.
I never had to ask with Cole. When she came, I knew it. “Really?”
“Yeah, why do you think—”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Just making sure.” After another swig of beer, I ask, “That wasn’t your first time or anything, right?”
Lili laughs like it’s the most ridiculous question in the world, but I’m not sure what else to think since she wasn’t aggressive at all during sex. “No. I’ve done it lots of times.” She pauses. “But you’re only the second guy I’ve done it with.”
Lili places little kisses that become little nibbles on my jaw. Her hand starts rubbing my chest, then goes down to my groin. Her motions are a bit too much.
My dick is really sensitive, but I don’t want to tell her to stop, so I don’t. I just drink my beer until the sensation numbs a bit. Then I get hard again and pull her into my lap and hope that our bodies will work together just a little better this time.
But after she puts another condom on me, she seems uncomfortable when she slides down onto my cock. After a few minutes of irregular rhythm, I stand up and position her on her hands and knees.
She makes some louder noises than before, and I can feel her pussy clamping down on me, so I’m pretty sure she comes before I do this time.
When we’re done, she lays on top of me and draws invisible pictures on my chest. “You’re so cool,” she whispers.
It makes me smile.
Chapter 12
Cole
I finish editing Reflections at seven in the evening. My eyes are blurry, and I wish I could call it a labor of love, but it’s really just become another obligation. I feel bad because I loved this script. I loved filming it. I loved everything about it, but now it just simply is. I cannot drum up enough energy to feel one way or another about it.
And it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll let someone else watch it, and if they think it’s all right, I’ll deliver it to the studio for their thoughts.
By eleven, I’m dressed and ready to go. I haven’t gone out since before I directed Tortured Desires. Even after Devon broke it off with me, I’ve stayed closed up inside. It’s been a tough four weeks since then trying to finish up this movie—a movie starring the guy who crushed my heart.
It’s all a bit dramatic, and while I’ve been trying to rise above it, it still hurts. It’s my fault though. I knew it would happen, and yet, I still went for him.
By midnight, I’m at a club. I’ve never been to this one before, but Zara says it would be good to be seen here. All the hot young celebrities want to be here, but that just makes me want to leave. It’s been a while since I went somewhere solely for the purpose of being seen. There was a time long ago when I felt like it was cool to see my picture in the magazines and on television, but I certainly don’t feel that way now.
All the Hollywood stars are probably all in the VIP section, and I can’t meet a suitable anonymous man from the velvet roped area at the top of the stairs, so I wander around down here. There is a hollow feeling in my chest, and I have to give myself a little pep talk to go up to the sexy guy with his forearms on the bar.
I’m Collette Stroud. People love me. People want me. That guy will want me. Of course, he’ll want me.
The hollow doesn’t go away. Not even when he gets into the SUV with me. Not even when I take him to the penthouse.
He has a nice face, the kind you see on television commercials. Through small talk that irritates me, I learn he’s a stage actor, looking for his big break. I’m sure as soon as I walked up to him in that club, he thought his big break was here.
He’ll fuck me because he thinks I can get him into a movie. He’ll let me fuck him because I’m the biggest thing around, and I chose him out of all the guys in the club. But really, he was the first man I saw not attached to another female. I wasn’t looking for a challenge; just an easy lay.
He tells me his name, which I promptly forget. I don’t give a shit. In an hour, I’ll send him on his way, unless he’s really good. Then I’ll have him make me come again.
I don’t want to look at his face. His hair is styled perfectly, and his teeth are too white. He probably spent years perfecting that smile so his dimples show each and every time. He has to be nearing his mid to late thirties. Probably already been married and divorced.
I take him to my place and after he puts on a condom, I face away from him and slide down onto his cock. It’s average sized, b
ut I’ll make it work for me. I close my eyes and snake my body. He tries to grab my breasts, but settles for my waist.
I keep thinking about Devon. I knew it was going to happen. I’m not young and free like Liliana, and I knew the minute I read their signed contract, their pretend relationship would transform into a real thing. You can’t travel the world, isolated by the violent love of fans, without developing some kind of feelings for the only other person you’re with.
Plus, I saw their chemistry at the Tortured Devotion’s audition in what seems ages ago.
The guy holds my hips still, then slams up into me. It feels so good, but it’s an awkward position. I climb off him and wait on my hands and knees until he catches what I want from him. He drives into me hard and doesn’t stop until he comes. I had an orgasm, too, but it doesn’t leave me sated.
I fuck him one more time with the same results: a weak, meaningless orgasm. Then I send him on his way, ignoring his request for my number and the way he tries to bring me into his arms.
I don’t even care if he tells the media about tonight.
As the door shuts behind him, I have this overwhelming need for sleep, so I go to the bathroom and open the cabinet. For years I gave all of my necessary medicine to other people to administer. I was afraid of doing something stupid with them, like take them for fun, but then years passed and I trusted myself again. When Devon was around, I didn’t need them, but now I’m back to sleepless nights. Unlike before, though, the creativity in me has died. It seems I can’t write music or work on any side projects while my mind and body rebel against the healing force of slumber.
I pop two pills and start the shower. The hot water relaxes me, and my mind is blissfully numb. Wrapped in a towel, I strip the bed of the sheets and toss them to the floor. It feels like a cloud when I flop down and pull a small blanket up over my body.
And I sleep.
Jesse comes over the next week and doesn’t show any inclination to leave. I’m sure he worries about me, but I don’t want to be around him right now. Of course, he knows me too well, so he already knows I want him gone, but he stays.
“Why don’t you work on some music? There hasn’t been a new Highland song in a while.”
Music makes me remember how Devon and I could mess around on the guitars for hours. “No. I’m not interested in music right now.”
“You know where this is going to lead.”
Of course I know where it’s going to lead, and while I see the two paths laid out before me, I don’t have the energy to choose which one I’ll walk, so I let it pick me. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me. It matters to a lot of people. We don’t want to see you—”
“So go away and don’t watch.” My abrasive words and tone won’t convince him of anything other than how right he is. “I’m fine, you know.”
“Right. Fine.” Jesse puts his arms over his chest and settles back into his chair as if he plans to be here all night.
The idea of it ticks me off. Time to be a bitch. “What? Afraid to leave because I might do something worthy of the ridiculous documentary you’re making? Where’s your camera?”
Jesse shakes his head. “Cole, please. Try as you might, you know you can’t push me away, and I don’t care about the damned documentary. If I did, I would have sold it when you disappeared all those years ago. I was offered a million for it.”
“So now it’s probably worth two million. Just wait until I die. It’ll probably go for ten.”
“Cole, you know I—”
“I don’t know anything except that I want you to leave so I can—”
“Isolate yourself until going back to drugs is a viable option to your warped mind?”
He can’t stay forever, so I wait him out. Turns out, Jesse’s right. My addict’s mind easily falls into its old patterns of thinking.
It starts with the Ambien, but then that doesn’t last long enough, so my doctor switches me to a lorazepam, which I think is great because my anxiety is skyrocketing again. Then I start to take the medication I have standing prescriptions for the residual pain I sometimes feel from all of my surgeries. I like hydrocodone, but opiates become a close friend.
I’m not going to lie. It feels good to go through the day like this. I have no work right now. I don’t want any. No responsibilities. Sometimes I think I want to write a song and release it under Highland, even though I haven’t touched a guitar in so long. My poetry book is untouched on the shelf. Honestly, I just want to sit on my couch and stare at the wall and think absolutely no thoughts at all.
So I do.
But before long, the familiar itch of wanting something stronger to numb the thoughts starts twitching just beneath my skin, and I find myself going to old places, doing things that I stopped doing years ago.
“Cole, don’t do this.”
I turn to Xavier. Deep in my heart, I know this hurts him, and I don’t want to hurt Xavier. He has been with me for so long, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t stand to feel like this anymore. “I don’t pay you to care.”
“You pay me to protect you, and that shit’s no good.”
I flick the needle and tighten the band.
“And you don’t have to pay me to care. I just do.”
His words give me pause for all of a few seconds, but the addict in me has come out again. She doesn’t give a shit about who says they care for her or not. She needs this. She wants this. And there is nothing in the world that can stop her now. “Leave.”
“I’m not going to.”
“You’ll go wait outside, or you won’t have a job. Like I need you. You’re not my dad.”
“You need a daddy right now to smack some sense into you.”
“But you’re not him.”
“I’m going to call Mr. Miller.”
I laugh. “Call Jesse. I don’t care. Tell him to bring his camera. I’m sure he won’t want to miss my long awaited slide down this spiral.” I hold my arm out to him. “Look, you can either stay and watch me do it, or you can leave the room, but either way, it’s going to happen.”
“Cole,” X says again.
My heart beats harder. I know what I’m doing. I know the consequences of it, and while I’m prepared to lose people I do actually care about, the ache inside of me hurts too much to say no right now. People who don’t know this kind of pain simply cannot know.
Xavier must see that I’m being honest and mean what I say because he just shakes his head and walks into the next room.
I can’t keep the smile from my lips as the familiar poke, slide, and pop happens. In an instant my world slows down and the most heavenly bliss settles over me. I remember my true love.
Chapter 13
Devon
Maybe it’s stupid, but being with Liliana makes me feel cool. When I talk, she acts like every word I say has some special meaning. She’s fun and free, always pushing me to be like her, too, but she mentioned in some interviews about how I’m so mature and intelligent and thoughtful, and how she wants to be more like me as well.
The studio won’t let us be an actual public couple. It seems the world is enamored with this are they or aren’t they thing we’ve got going on. So we’re not allowed to be as truthful as we want to be about our relationship; so we settle for working little things into interviews.
Lili is great at playing coy and planting just the tiniest of seeds that we’ve got something special going on.
We’ve been shooting the second movie, Tortured Love, for a month now, and it’s just about perfect to be able to spend nearly twenty-four hours in her company. Okay, it’s not perfect. Liliana can be a little grating when all I want to do is play some music or talk about something other than the movie, reporters, the A-list, or what one of the other cast members said. But all in all, things are good with her—for now.
My stomach tightens as my limo pulls up to the long red carpet for the premier of Reflections, the movie Cole directed and I starred in months ago. Liliana is a
few cars behind me. The studio said it was okay she comes as support, but we’re not to have contact. That might make people believe that we’re really a couple. We can’t let that slip until we’re promoting the third Tortured film. By then, people will be stampeding to see us as Jamie and Maya, and see our love come through the screen, but right now, they need us to build some anticipation for them.
That’s what the studio says, at least.
I really wish Lili could be by my side tonight. I know I’ll have to take a bunch of pictures with Cole. On one hand, I’m excited to see her again. Cole is always so beautiful, and I’d love to have the opportunity to let her know that I still care for her. Plus, if she ever wants to just hang out, I’m open to it.
On the other hand, though, there is that pit in my belly where the guilt I feel lives. When I see Collette, I know that no matter how gorgeous she is, I’m going to feel like shit for falling out of love with her. If that was even what happened.
But that is the thing, isn’t it? I never did fall out of love with her as much as I just saw another opportunity. That’s why the guilt kicks my ass. Because I loved Cole, and just because her lifestyle didn’t fit me, I dumped her and started something with Lili.
The door opens, and I get out. Flashbulbs pop nonstop for the first minute, then I’m ushered by Natalie down the carpet because I can barely see anymore. No matter how many have gone off around me, my eyes haven’t gotten used to the camera flashes.
The one thing I can see is Cole. She stands a few yards in front of me, smiling her camera smile at the reporters, waving at the fans. She rocks a tight-fitting gold dress with heels that make her taller than the journalist she talks to. Thin shimmers of gold adorn her ankle, wrist, and neck. I don’t know why, but those little strands reflecting the photographers’ flashes seem to elevate her. She looks immortal; a fiery-haired goddess from Olympus.