This kind of talk always makes me blush. Whenever I watch James’s scenes, it’s the talking that makes me giggle more than the sex itself. The things he says to those girls are so lewd and scandalous, but he manages to make it hot. Eric, on the other hand, doesn’t have that smoothness, that authoritative charisma that makes these words sound sensual. With him, they just sound kind of crude. I’m doing my best not to laugh as he continues to dirty talk me.
“Just give me a taste,” he finally concludes, “just a little taste to get you in the mood to fuck.”
Ah ha! So that’s where this is going. Clearly Eric has been watching some movies of his own because this is almost always the precursor to sex. James says that most actors half-ass it so the camera gets a good shot, but it doesn’t do anything for the girl. He says he likes to get really into it and get them off that way before he fucks them, not act like it’s some appetizer for the main course.
“Not yet, Eric,” I reply, my voice quiet and shy. “Soon, but not yet.”
“All right,” he says, backing off of me. “Your call.”
“I just can’t have sex with you yet. I’m sorry.”
Every time we fool around, we get to this point where I have second thoughts about potentially sleeping with him, then I feel bad and I tell him I’m sorry for holding back. Is it normal for all my sexual encounters with Eric to end with an apology?
“It’s cool, Lola.” He shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant even though I can tell he’s slightly frustrated. “It might take longer than with most girls, but I’m gonna get there.” He grins as he reaches down and cups me between my legs.
I laugh at this lofty claim. Is he going to get there? I still can’t decide.
There’s a knock at the door bright and early the next morning, and I throw my bathrobe over my pajamas and try to tame my disheveled hair as I go to answer. I smile when I look through the peephole and open up the door.
“You alone?” James asks, peeking in the door.
“Yes!” I roll my eyes, and I can’t help but giggle a little. “I’m not going to let him sleep over after only a few weeks.”
“That’s my girl!” He kisses my forehead as he steps inside. “Brought you some breakfast. I couldn’t sleep last night so I figured fuck it and got up early this morning so I could make veggie quiche.”
“My favorite!”
“Oh, I know.” He flashes me a little sexy grin. Unless maybe it was a normal grin and I misinterpreted it. Or maybe it actually was a sexy smile just for me. I’m confused.
He slices me a piece and grabs one for himself, and we sit down at my little kitchen table to eat.
“So how was lover boy?” he teases, that flirty little smirk still on his lips.
“Very good, I’ll have you know,” I reply smugly.
“You fuck him?” he asks, looking away so we don’t make eye contact. His mouth is a tight frown as he says it, but he eats another bite of quiche, probably thinking I won’t notice.
“No, I didn’t fuck him!”
“You blow him?” he continues, trying so hard to be nonchalant despite the fact that he’s practically radiating anxiety.
“No! You know I’ve never done that shit.”
“So what’d you guys do?” he asks, and I can tell he’s relaxing a bit.
“Hand stuff,” I answer, knowing my cheeks are turning red as we speak.
“That fuckin’ Nordic lawyer finger blasted you!” His eyebrows shoot up with surprise.
“James!” I can’t look him in the eye. I’m already a giggly mess from recounting the evening in my head.
“Oh, please, Lo!” He chuckles. “This is the shit we talk about in conference calls at my job.”
I nod. I’ll have to give him that one. He’s never been shy with talking about sex. He used to tell me every last detail of everything he did with every girl he was with in high school.
“Besides,” he adds with that new, sexy smile, “I like making you squirm.”
“Well, speaking of squirm…”
“What?” he says, biting down on his lip to stifle laughter.
“It’s embarrassing.” I giggle, fully blushing.
“Come on,” he pushes, his grin growing wider.
“I’m worried I’m too tight…down there.”
He can’t hold it back anymore, and he practically snorts as he starts snickering.
“Fine, that’s all I’m saying,” I snap, standing to take my dish into the kitchen.
“No, no.” He grabs my wrist. “Sit back down. Come on, spill it, kid!”
“Last night, it felt a little uncomfortable when his fingers were in me,” I say timidly. James has always been my sex guru, so I’m sure he can offer some advice.
“How many fingers?” he asks like he’s trying to make a diagnosis.
“Two.”
“And did he warm you up first?”
“Yeah, it was sexy and all, but I don’t know.” I sigh.
“Well, did he start with one and then move up to two or did he just go right for two?” I can see his jaw clenching like the thought upsets him. So protective, like always.
“He started with one first for a little while, but then he did two, and he started going pretty deep.”
“I swear, some guys don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.” He shakes his head. “The whole point is to hit the G-spot, which isn’t even that far in. There’s no need to pound away into a girl to get there.” He’s the expert, and he’s smirking like this is Sex Seminar 101. “You go in a little and then you go up like this,” he adds, curving his fingers in a come here gesture.
For a brief second, I vividly recall how fantastic that felt when he did it to me, and I get a little tingle low in my belly. I flush and look away. “Maybe he should watch one of your movies to learn a few things,” I joke, trying to brush off any rogue lusty thoughts.
“No way!” James laughs. “I wouldn’t want him to do anything like that to you. I’m way too rough for him to model his technique after me.”
“Do you ever do it gentle?” My voice comes out slightly more sultry than I’d intended, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how I’m feeling, what the girl wants, shit like that.”
“Why does it depend on that? Do you just normally do it really rough and have to consciously make yourself be gentle, or do you like to go slow and then see if they want it rough?” I ask, trying to figure out his off-screen style. From what I’ve seen in his videos, sex with him is typically fast, hard, and intense, so I’m assuming he’s always a little rough.
“Some girls like you to fuck them really hard.” He shrugs. “They like you to just get behind them and fuck the shit out of them until they’re screaming. But other girls are more sensitive and tender down there and you gotta accommodate for that too.” His expression turns mischievous. “If you’re worried you’re too tight for fingers, you definitely shouldn’t do anything rough.”
I blush and shoot him a look. “Shut up!”
He laughs heartily and gives me a smug little smirk.
“Glad to get your recommendations, Mr. Sexpert.” I roll my eyes.
“Dude, next time, just tell him to go slower and to just use one finger instead of two. He’s gotta get you really warmed up first and give your body time to get ready for him. Otherwise, you’re gonna be tense and it’s gonna hurt when he eventually fucks you.”
The vibe in the room suddenly feels deflated. We’ve talked about my potential first times a lot, but this seems strangely forlorn. He was very casual about what he said, but I have this weird feeling that he’s slightly disappointed, like there are some dashed hopes hidden in the subtext of his words. I also find myself feeling oddly dismayed by the prospect of having sex with Eric. There’s just been so much building up to it that I can’t imagine the payoff could live up to the expectations.
James and I look at each other for a moment, not
saying anything but both looking slightly troubled. I get up and take our plates to the kitchen.
“I’ll load up the dishwasher, you just chill,” he says, coming in after me.
“That’s okay, I got it.”
“Seriously, Lo, go sit down and I’ll do it.”
Bossy James. I put my coffee cup in the dishwasher as I raise an eyebrow defiantly.
“Lola,” he says, his voice taking on a huskier quality, “I said I’ll do it.”
I put my hand on my hip and roll my eyes with as much exaggeration as I can.
“Why must you defy me all the time, little girl?” he says in a fake growl as he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder.
I’m laughing hysterically when he carries me into the living room.
“Do I have to punish you?” he says in an exaggerated version of that Dominant James voice he uses in his scenes.
“No!” I protest from my upside-down position.
“No, what?” he says, pretending to be stern.
“No, dude?”
He playfully smacks my butt, and I pretend to struggle in his grasp.
“No, Sir!” I say, imitating the girls from his videos. “No, Mr. Langdon! I’ll be a good girl! Don’t punish me!”
“We’ll see about that!” He slaps my behind again, and I cackle uncontrollably.
I reach my hands down and start spanking his butt as he holds me. He laughs loudly and spanks me again. He’s doing it lightly, but just enough to show me that he can—since I’m up over his shoulder like this and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
My shorts are riding up, and I know half my ass is hanging out as I continue smacking him back. I feel his teeth graze my behind, and he nips at my right butt cheek.
“Aaah!” I squeal. “Safeword! Safeword!”
He twirls me around and flops me back on the couch. “Safeword?” he teasingly scoffs. “You’re such a lightweight.”
“I did it for your own good.” I try to straighten out my hair and my pajamas after that little attack. “You’re lucky because otherwise I might have kicked your ass.”
He gives a hearty laugh and turns to the kitchen. “I’m gonna put the rest of the stuff in the dishwasher,” he says before adding, “and don’t make me spank your tight little ass again!”
I cross my arms and pretend to glare at him as he walks away. I can hear him cracking up in the kitchen as he finishes cleaning up. This is Dominant James. I hardly ever get a glimpse of him. At his core, he’s playful, though, and I’m amused by this little episode instead of being intimidated by it—which would be the correct response if I was some kind of submissive…I guess. I’m honestly not sure how the whole thing works.
He comes back out and sits down on the couch with me, pulling my legs over his lap so I can recline against the arm of the couch. He’s in a good mood and I’m happy to see him feeling more chipper after the dark times he’s had with the Eva situation.
After a few commercial breaks, he glances over to me and gives me a sweet smile before his expression turns more quizzical.
“What’s that?” he says, pointing to my chest.
“What’s what?” I ask, looking down at myself.
There’s a small discoloration about an inch above my left nipple. It’s barely visible, but it peeks out just a little over my shirt. It’s a bite mark. Eric bit me so hard that he left a mark on my skin. I don’t even want to try to explain this to James. He’ll freak out, and I know it.
“Lola, answer me. What is that?” he asks more firmly when he sees my reluctance to respond.
“It’s nothing.”
“Lola, what is that on your fuckin’ boob?” he says as he sternly furrows his brow.
“I think it’s a bite mark,” I finally confess.
“What?” he practically growls. “That asshole bit you?”
“Calm down. It doesn’t hurt. It’s not a big deal.”
“Let me see.” He pulls me closer beside him so I’m kneeling on the couch, and he grabs at my shirt.
“James!” I gasp as he yanks my shirt down and exposes my breast. The bruise goes all the way around my nipple in the circular shape of Eric’s mouth. Yikes! Maybe it’s worse than I thought.
“Oh, my God, baby,” he groans like it pains him to see such a thing.
“I told you, it doesn’t hurt,” I say, quickly covering myself with my hands.
“Stop that.” He snatches my hands away.
I feel weird with James staring at my breast like this. He was the first boy to ever see my tits, but this context is decidedly darker than the little flirtatious episode at our friend’s pool party. My cheeks are flushed and I want to cover up, but he holds my wrists until I quit trying to squirm out of his grasp.
“Does it hurt? Tell me for real,” he says warily as he raises his hand and gently brushes his fingers along the bruise.
“No, I told you, it doesn’t hurt.”
My heart has started beating faster, and my eyes are fixed on his fingers touching my tender skin. I hate to admit it, but I kind of dig it. I blink my eyes and force the thoughts away as I look down at him.
“I don’t like this, Lo,” he says softly as he looks up at me, gently cupping my breast. “I don’t like some dude leaving marks on you. He hurt you, baby.”
“I’m okay, James,” I say, finally covering myself up and pulling my shirt back into place.
“Did he do this last night?” I can see a torrent of rage mixed with melancholy in his eyes.
“Yes.” I feel shy, almost embarrassed.
“Did it hurt when he did it?”
“Yes, but only a little bit,” I whisper as I look away and nod.
“Oh, Lola,” he says, his voice pained.
He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tight. He’s genuinely troubled by what he’s just seen. A guy who spanks and whips girls all day long in kinky videos is truly unsettled by a little mark on my nipple.
“I’m all right,” I say reassuringly. “It didn’t hurt that bad, and it doesn’t hurt at all today.”
“I don’t want anyone to hurt you, Lola. Ever,” he softly replies, holding me close so his cheek is resting against my chest. “Please promise me you won’t let him bite you like that again.”
“I won’t. I’ll tell him to take it easy from now on.”
“I just…I don’t like him being rough with you—I don’t want anybody being rough with you,” he confesses quietly like he’s afraid to say it. “I don’t want him to touch you anymore. You should break up with him.”
“Oh, James.” I sigh as I brush my fingers through his hair. “You have got to mellow out. He got overzealous and he bit me a little too hard, but he didn’t mean to and I’m fine. I’ll be okay and I’ll tell him to chill out if he does anything too rough, okay?”
“All right,” he reluctantly agrees, giving me one last little squeeze before letting go of me.
“See? Everything’s going to be fine. No more biting, no more rough stuff.” I take his face in my hands and kiss his forehead.
“Just remember, being with you is a privilege, all right? He doesn’t just get to touch you. Your body’s precious, Lo, and you shouldn’t let someone lay a fuckin’ finger on you if they don’t deserve it. You don’t owe him anything, and you never, ever, ever have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Okay.” I nod and give him a smile.
“All right.” He brushes my hair behind my ear before he puts his arm around me. “Wanna watch Curb Your Enthusiasm?” he says as he picks up the remote.
I nod my head and lean into him. It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy when he acts protective of me like this. I mean a lot to him, and he means a lot to me, so it’s touching when I get these glimpses into just how much he cares. Being with me is a privilege. What a sweet thing to say! When he says shit like that to me, I just feel so…loved. I sit curled up like this with him all morning as we watch the many misadventures of Larry David on DVD.
&
nbsp; Chapter 8
James
“JESUS CHRIST, AMBER! You have no idea how glad I am that I get to work with you today,” I say, wrapping my arms around Amber Blaze, my co-star for today. We’re not doing anything crazy, just a normal sex scene with a little tying up and some spanking—nothing that’s going to hurt anybody or leave me emotionally fucked-up for the rest of my goddamn life like that Savannah shoot probably will.
“I’m glad too, honey.” She smiles and reaches up to drape her arms around my neck.
I’ve worked with Amber lots of times before, and she’s someone I consider a good friend. She’s small with natural boobs and long, fiery red hair. She’s really pretty and the two of us totally dig having sex with each other, which is why people say we have great on-screen chemistry.
“I did a scene with Savannah Slade the other day and I just need this, something that’s actually fun, you know?”
“Yikes!” she says with surprise. “Savannah Slade. How did that go?”
“It was so fuckin’ awful, Amber. Seriously. Just…traumatic. And crazy-ass Eva was calling the shots from the side. I felt like I was in some psychological torture experiment.”
“Aw, sweetie,” she says as she reaches out to hug me again. “I’m glad you’re back in the normal world, then.” She gives me a little kiss. “Are we doing just anal today or is it both? My schedule’s been so crazy I can’t even remember which hole I’m using in scenes anymore.”
I chuckle. The irony of “back in the normal world” and “I can’t remember which hole I’m using” appearing in the same breath is not lost on me. The normal world of porn is pretty damn far from most people’s idea of normal.
“I think we’re doing both today. But, Amber, I don’t want to tape your mouth, if that’s okay with you.” I know I’m too freaked out to do anything even remotely extreme.
“That’s fine, honey.” She nods. “Maybe we could just do a gag or something.”
“Okay, but loose. I don’t want it to be too tight on you.”
“James,” she says, giggling, “have you gone soft?” She slides her hand down the front of my jeans and rubs me through the fabric. “Nope, I guess not.”
Captured (Vice, Virtue & Video Book 2) Page 7