He goes as deep as he can, and then starts to move it in a pendulum motion, my body aching for more than just a finger. But there’s no need for despair. As if he could read my mind, he takes his fingers out of me and replaces them with his large cock, it pressed tight against my hole.
With his hands on my ass cheeks, he spreads them wide as he eases himself in, his cock pushing back against my inner walls as it advances steadily inside my ass.
I scream as he goes all the way in.
He pulls back slowly before going in again, his body rocking against mine. Making sure that he’s not going anywhere, I start bucking my hips against him.
I’m breathing hard, the muscles around my lungs so numb with pleasure, that I’m having a hard time doing something as simple as breathing. He starts going faster, his cock settling into a crescendo rhythm, and my ragged breathing turns into a cadence of wild moaning.
He leans even more into me, pressing his body against mine. As he comes and goes, each time his cock goes deep inside of me, he starts rubbing my clit with one finger, an expanding pressure spreading throughout all of my body.
Like holding my breath, I know that the moment when I won’t be able to endure any longer is coming.
That’s pretty much how I feel right now.
I summon all my strength and tense up my legs, jutting my ass and thrusting my hips hard against him.
He continues until my body simply can’t endure any longer.
My mind is exhausted, my muscles tense and pulsating, trembling with pleasure. But he goes on, thrusting in and out my ass as hard as he possible.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, and I close my eyes and surrender to the inevitable.
I let go of the world.
My muscles tense and the whole universe explodes inside of me, my mind flooded by a tidal wave of pleasure.
I scream, an impossible cry of pleasure. My whole body trembles – my face, my arms and my legs. I throw my head back and close my eyes. My body explodes once more, an impossible and powerful orgasm shaking every inch of my body and soul.
He continues, burying his whole length deep inside my ass, and a few seconds later I feel his whole body becoming taut and his breathing heavier. With a final thrust I feel his cock spasming against my insides, and then he unleashes his seed, filling me up to the brim.
I collapse on top of the mattress, stomach down, while he keeps his cock gushing inside me. My skin prickles as I feel his cum dripping down my legs, and I grab at the sheets once more, bunching them up in my hands.
When he pulls out of me he rolls to the side on the mattress, lying down by my side.
We stay there for a long time, just catching our breath in the silence of the bedroom. Then, doing it gently, he reaches for my hand and locks his fingers on mine. We don’t say a word – we just enjoy the closeness of our spent bodies, holding hands.
I don’t know when this became more than just a fling, but there’s no doubt in my mind…
This is way more than just a fling.
Kayla
With my left hand, I squeeze my stress ball, and with my right hand, I doodle on a blank page in my notepad. I’m hoping this distraction will leave me as calm as possible for my upcoming meeting with Ed.
I glance at my wristwatch. Five more minutes before I have to face him. I’m not looking forward to this meeting, but I know there’s no way I can get out of it.
My eyes leave my notepad and find my name certificate. “Wise one” is meant to be one of the meanings of Kayla. Pity I’ve missed out in the wise department. Obviously, Mum had chosen the wrong name.
If I were blessed with wisdom, I would know what to do, more to the point I wouldn’t have even gotten myself into the situation I’m in. I sigh and look at my scribbles.
Have I just doodled a penis and balls? I frown and stare at the shapes.
My door opens, and Ed breezes in to interrupt my thoughts. He has his mobile held against his right ear. It seems to be a permanent feature there.
Quickly, I turn the page. I don’t want Ed to see my art work.
“Got to go,” I hear him say.
Three minutes early, I see.
“Hi, Ed.” I try and inject enthusiasm into my voice.
“Have you done it?”
Straight to the point, no pleasantries, no small talk.
“Done what?” I stall. Of course I know what he’s referring to, but I want him to spell it out.
“If you haven’t decided which one you’re going to kill, I’ve decided for you.”
I hold my breath. I’m on the edge of my seat, and I feel as if I’m watching a thriller with me as the main character.
“You have?”
“You will need to get rid of Scott.”
I breathe out slowly. “Think before you speak,” I silently tell myself, but I can feel my innards rupture from emotional explosives.
“Why?”
Ed crosses his legs and brushes invisible things off his trouser leg.
“Surely you know?” Ed stares at me. I shrug. “After the altercation between Scott and Ian, I think we can all agree it is Scott who has to go.”
I don’t agree at all. If anyone should go, it should be Ian, but I keep this to myself. I try and bide my time.
I try to sound in total control when I reply.
“I think Ian is overreacting. He had a bad day filming. Everyone got frazzled, and testosterone got in the way.”
I look at Ed to gauge his reaction.
“That’s not what Ian said.” Ed glances at his phone. “Don’t let your feelings get in the way of good judgment.”
Is there a hint of a threat in Ed’s voice?
“I think it would be a mistake to get rid of Scott. Brad and Scott work well together. They are a team, just like the characters they play. The show needs them.”
“Get rid of both of them then.”
My mouth drops open. Did I hear that right, or is there something wrong with my hearing?
“If you think one is not going to be good without the other, kill them both and make Ian the star of the show.” Ed pauses. “Problem solved.”
He hesitates before he adds, “Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of your career, Kayla.”
I’m too stunned to be able to reply. Has he lost his mind? How the hell would that work?
I can’t just kill off two of the main stars of the show—the only two that are really any good.
“A car accident is always good. With some good writing, you can string it out and keep the audience in suspense for a bit.”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I try again and feel like a fish out of water.
Just then, Ed’s phone rings. He looks at the screen, presses the answer button, and leaves my office.
I’m not sure how long I sit and stare at the chair where Ed had sat during the meeting. It wasn’t really a meeting, I decide, more like a dictator come to tell me what to do. From my point of view, a meeting was about discussing different ideas, working through a problem.
The longer I sit and ponder, the angrier I become.
Eventually, I push my chair back and make to leave my office. I scribble something on a blank page and walk out.
The note on my computer will let anyone who’s looking for me know I’ve taken the rest of the day off.
There’s no way I’ll be able to get any writing done after this meeting. I may as well get out before the walls close in on me. They are suffocating me as it is.
I drum my fingers on my steering wheel for a few minutes before I drive out of the car park and turn left.
I have no idea where I’m going. It’ll do me good to just go for a little drive.
As I make my way through the traffic, I replay Ed’s words. Just get rid of both of them.
It was nuts. There was no other way to describe his reaction.
The show doesn’t have enough traction to survive the two main leads being written out. While I don’t make a point of
reading the reviews regularly, I’m aware the audience hasn’t warmed to Ian.
Without paying attention to where I’m going, I turn left, right, and left again, and I meander through downtown LA.
I enjoy working on the show, and I have plenty of ideas of where it could head. After the first season, I was brimming with ideas and creativity. Ed hasn’t been interested.
Ed.
I decide Ed is the problem, together with Ian, in all of this.
Of course, Angela is right, and I really need to start to speak out and stand up for what I believe in.
I take another left-hand turn and notice I’m in Brad’s street. I sigh and slow down.
Outside his house, I stop the car.
I know Brad must be home. He isn’t scheduled to shoot at the studio today.
I take deep breaths in and out before I get out of the car and walk to the front door of Brad’s house.
Brad
I don’t remember when I started running on my elliptical machine. But the mileage is up to almost four and a half miles. I’m zoning out; mad one minute, sad the next. I’m feeling completely and utterly frustrated the whole time. Fucking useless. I hope Shauna can figure this mess out.
Shauna has the day off. She has a home life too. I often forget she’s married and has a teenage kid…a daughter named Sam—no, a son named Sam.
Yeah, I can’t recall; I really should remember.
All I can think about is the trouble this blog has created. It’s the last thing I wanted. The very last thing.
I know my career can handle the stress, but not Kayla’s…hers is just starting.
Toweling the sweat off as I cross my house, I head for the shower. All I wantis to rinse off quickly and then make myself some dinner.
I have some top-notch steaks marinating in Worcestershire sauce and some chopped-up onions and mushrooms waiting to be grilled. My stomach growls. Yeah, it’s going to be delicious, and after all the calories I just burned, I have nothing to worry about if I eat it all.
That’s my plan—eat until I’m stuffed and then fall asleep on the couch, watching a movie.
While showering, I think I hear my doorbell. A UPS delivery no doubt—my new cell phone charger. I get out of the shower and start drying my body. I can hear my assistant’s words in my head.
“You always say not to leave the packages at the door too long. Kids like to steal things that look like they came from Amazon or Best Buy,” I say to myself, a reminder to rush out to get it.
I’m still pulling on my Nike sweatpants when the doorbell rings again. Either the UPS delivery guy has made a mistake, or someone’s here. I wonder who?
“I’m coming!” I shout.
Dashing through my house, I pull my T-shirt on. I would have liked to dry my hair too, but the doorbell rings a third time. Whoever is at my door is in a damn hurry.
“Coming!”
I kinda fling the door open. Not meaning to. To my surprise, there’s Kayla turning, about to walk away.
“Hey. Hey you,” I say, grabbing her attention.
“Hey, Brad. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” I wave her in.
I’m so happy to see her. My day’s suddenly shaping up. I cannot wait to see where this is going to go. Maybe, if I am lucky, I will get…well…lucky.
“So…what’s happening, Kayla? I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” I smile. “But I sure am happy you stopped by.”
“It’s a mess, Brad.”
Oh shit. I feel my heart drop to the floor upon seeing her upset face.
“What’s wrong?” I say. “Tell me what I can do to help. Anything. Just say it.”
“I don’t know.”
Kayla’s voice is full of defeat. Watching her plop down, basically giving up on my couch is enough to break my heart. I’m quickly realizing I will do anything—whatever is needed to help and protect her.
I really care. These are not just words falling out of my mouth. These are not empty promises. I mean them.
“Kayla—”
She whines. “What…”
“Kayla, listen to me, okay?”
“Yeah?” She peeks up at me; she’s looking so sad it’s ridiculous.
“I’ll quit the show. Okay. I’ll quit. Maybe that will help. I mean it has to, at least, make things a little easier for you, right?”
She’s stunned. I can see it on her face. “You’d do that for me? You’d quit for me?”
“I would.” I smile. “Quitting will not hurt my career.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I get offers all the time. I have a few sitting on the table right now. I can call Shauna and she can tell you herself. There’s always some producer or director waiting on me. This won’t slow me down at all. No. I’ll be fine.”
She’s quiet for a moment. I’m not sure if she’s going to cry or what. So I kneel before her and take her tiny hand.
“Is that what you want?” she asks me. “Do you want to quit?”
Her eyes look pained. I can tell she doesn’t want this either.
“No. Of course not. I don’t want to quit. You’re an amazing writer, and I love working with you. This is the most excited I have been about a role in a long time. But all that said, I will quit. Gladly. If it helps you.”
She stands up suddenly and wraps her arms around me in a big hug. It feels nice. Not just her body pressed against mine, but the sentiment feels good.
Kayla feels good.
“Thank you for saying all that, Brad. Really.”
“I meant it,” I whisper in her ear. “Seriously, Kayla, if it is your career or mine…then I’ll quit to protect you.”
She hugs me tighter. It feels like she doesn’t want to let go.
I stay in her embrace for a bit. And when she loosens her hold, I quickly acquire her eye contact by gently pinching her chin. “You are amazing, Kayla.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Leaning in slowly, I can feel the heat from her mouth before my lips even reach hers. Pressing them lightly, I hope she welcomes their presence, and she does. Her mouth opens slightly.
She smells like roses…roses and sex.
God, I want her so much.
Kayla
I throw my head back, baring my neck to him, and he savors my skin with gentle kisses. I pant each time his lips touch me, a gentle fog of pleasure blanketing my mind. I get out of his hold with cat-like movements, freeing my hands and taking them to his t-shirt, my frantic fingers pulling it from his body.
I take off his shirt then and, almost with a growl, I press the open palm of my hands on his pectorals, feeling all the warmth coming from his skin under my fingertips. He presses his body against mine, sending a shiver down my spine, and then grabs a handful of hair on the nape of my neck.
Holding my head, he presses his mouth against mine; fireworks go off behind my eyelids as we kiss savagely, our tongues dancing and fighting against each other with abandonment.
Still kissing me, he makes me take a few steps back, until we reach the couch. Then we sit down.
“Come here, Kayla,” he says, taking me by the hand. I obey him, sitting on his lap.
I slide my hands up his knees, slowly raising them until finally only my fingertips are touching the fabric of his sweatpants. Without taking my eyes from his, I take my hands to my chest and unbutton the top of my blouse, the patterns on the black lace bra I am wearing peeking at him.
I can feel him aching for more, the impulse to just grab me by the waist, push me closer and just rip my blouse open darting across his face. But he remains still.
I rest my hand against his chest, the warmth of his body coming at me. I bite my lower lip and look at him, his eyes begging for me almost desperately.
In a swift motion I lace my arm around his neck and pull myself to him, sitting across his lap. Reacting by instinct, his hand goes to my waist, his long fingers brushing against the exposed skin between my skirt and blouse. It
only takes that, his fingers on my skin – and I immediately feel a pulsing heat between my thighs, a piercing desire to just hike up my skirt and let him have me there and then.
I still can´t believe he would have given up on the show just to protect me. I want him so much...I just want to touch him, to do things with him. And I’m not just talking about sex. No, it goes deeper than that.
I pull his sweatpants hard down his legs. His hands fly to my waist and he turns me around, pulling down the zipper of my skirt. I push it down with the tip of my fingers, my bare ass turned to him.
I can feel his eyes banqueting on the vision of it, enjoying the shape of my ass and delighting on how only just a small strip of thong covers me.
With my back still turned to him I give a step into his direction and lower my ass into his crotch. It fits neatly against his cock, and I rub myself against it, the length and thickness of it almost making me moan. Our hips sway against each other, a frenzied lust driving both our bodies.
I’m so wet I’m almost expecting it to drip down my legs.
Wasting no time, I get up and turn myself to him.
His hand grips my jaw, index and middle finger sliding inside my mouth. My lips wrap around his fingers instinctively, sucking on them gently. My tongue swirls around it and my body throbs as I imagine his cock between my lips.
Doing it as slowly as I can, I place my hands on his outer thighs, hooking my fingers on his boxer briefs. One little tug and his member springs free, and just seeing it again, my skin prickles.
Leaning into him, I close my eyes as I approach his cock. I part my lips and let the tip of my tongue out, resting it against the tip of his cock and allowing the saltiness of his pre-cum to coat my tongue.
I take my time, flicking my tongue and using it to circle the fat head of his cock. Tilting my head sideways, I then run the tip of my tongue down the length of his shaft. When I finally get to the root, I place one hand under his balls and start massaging them.
Guided by instinct, I open my mouth as wide as I can and suck one of his balls in, allowing its full weight to rest over my tongue. I do the same with the other one, wrapping my lips tightly around it as I keep on lapping with my tongue, and only then do I go back up his shaft.
The Marriage Mistake Page 57