Exrated

by Stevie J. Cole

  “Oh,” he smirks. “What a fucking liar you are,” he says as he rubs beneath the edge of my panties, feeling how turned on I am.

  He teases my entrance. I grab his face to kiss him, but he turns his head, sucking one of my fingers into his warm mouth. And then, he sinks his finger inside me, my body involuntarily clenching around it. Tyler pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and bites down on it. Moaning, I push my hips against his hand. He slips another finger in up to his knuckles, resting his forehead against mine and staring into my eyes. He fucks me with his hand. Hard. Rough. Gentle. Slow. His thumb circling my clit the entire time. My body tenses, my back bows, and when I’m teetering on the brink of all that built up tension releasing. He stops moving.

  His lips lay next to my ear, his hot, uneven breathes fanning over my cooled skin. “Tell me you lied.”

  “Tyler!” I swat at his chest and water splashes up.

  “Tell me.” His thumb glides over my clit, causing my body to jerk.

  “Fine. Fuck. I lied.”

  He shoves his fingers deeper inside me, bending them to rub over that one perfect spot. Then he stops again.

  “Tell me you missed this.”

  “Ugh.” I grit my teeth. “I missed it.”

  “And…” There he goes over my clit again, this time pinching it between his fingers and tugging on it. Fuck me. A moan slips from my lips. “Tell me you want me,” he says.

  “Goddamn it. I want you to get me off and stop with this bullshit.”

  Laughing a deep, throaty laugh, he traces his tongue over the shell of my ear, and with just a few slight movements of his hand, my fingers are digging into his shoulders, my head falling back, and I’m moaning like a whore in heat. The moment I open my eyes I’m met with his intense stare. A slight smirk plays over his lips as he pulls his hand from the water and slips his fingers, one by one, into his mouth. “Fuck me, Jemma. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

  Hands. Mouths. Teeth—we’re all over each other. And in a split second, his shirt’s over his head, my thong is floating in the water, and his pants are undone, his hard cock sliding and slipping against me.

  “Oh, my God.” A girly laugh bounces around the pool deck. “Who’s…Oh…Ohhhh!”

  I panic and grab the top of my dress, covering myself up as I push away from Tyler.

  “Tyler? Is that…” Brandi says, and the childish lilt in her voice makes me cringe. I don’t like her calling him by his real name. It feels so dirty. “What are you doing?”

  He doesn’t even look at her. He just makes his way to me, grabbing me and kissing me again.

  I press my palms flat against his bare chest. “Tyler, stop,” I whisper, backing away again.

  “Brandi,” he says with an edge to his voice, “go the fuck away.” He reaches for me again, but I jerk away.

  That one second without him touching me is all it takes to clear the sex-fog that’s clouding my mind. I can’t do this with him. I won’t do this to myself.

  His eyes narrow and he frowns “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

  “I…I can’t.” The back of my calves hit the steps, and I spin around, clutching my dress to my chest as I climb out of the pool. Brandi glares at me as I make my way toward the house.

  “Titch!”

  I don’t turn around. I grab the door and hurry inside, dripping wet. Hudson’s eyes land on me, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “Uh, you fall into the pool, chicken?”

  “I just…I need a towel.”

  “Bathroom’s down the hall. Help yourself.” The backdoor slams shut and Tyler calls my name again. “Oh, I see what happened here,” Hudson laughs.

  I’m almost to the bathroom when someone grabs onto my elbow and spins me around.

  “Jemma,” Tyler says.

  “Stop,” I say as I push into the bathroom and flip on the lights.

  “No.” The door closes and the lock clicks. “You stop.”

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair’s matted to my head, my mascara’s all over the place, and my face is flushed. There is no coming back from this. And you want to know why? Because I fucking lied to myself. I told myself I could handle this. That it didn’t matter to me that he did porn because there would never be an “us” again when the truth is, when someone has meant as much to you as Tyler has, that idea of “us” never goes away.

  Tyler grabs a towel from the linen closet and wraps it around my shoulders. “You can’t run away from this, Jemma. You can’t.”

  And, right now, I want to punch him. Fuck him for not letting me.

  We’re in the middle of the bathroom, dripping wet and staring at each other. For a second, I think she may hit me, but instead, she drops her chin to her chest. A piece of wet hair falls in her face, and I sweep it behind her ear. I can’t leave it at just that simple touch. I trail my fingers down her jaw, gripping her chin and forcing it up, but she refuses to look at me. I skim my fingertip over her plump bottom lip. “Look at me,” I say.

  Her eyes lock with mine and she sighs, her warm breath blowing over my hand. I keep my gaze trained on her as I slowly inch my face toward hers. “I never forgot this…” I whisper against her mouth before I kiss her. “Letting you go was a mistake. Everything since that day has been a mistake,” I whisper against her ear.

  “Don’t tell me that,” she says in a desperate tone. “Don’t…”

  “It was.”

  There’s a knock on the door. The handle jiggles. “Jemma,” Heather’s voice comes from the other side, “you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Let me in then,” Heather says.

  “No,” I say.

  “Oh, fuck you, dude. Let me in.”

  “I said no. Go the fuck away.”

  “Tyler, I can’t do this with you. I can’t.”

  “You can’t not do it.” I shake my head, grazing my mouth over hers. “We belong together, and you know that.”

  “Maybe in another life we did, Tyler.” She pulls away from me, staring at me with hurt for a brief moment before she closes her eyes. “But not now.”

  “What the fuck? Really?” I drag my hands through my damp hair.

  There’s a loud whack over the door. “Open the fucking door. I’ll rip your diseased balls off your body and shove them up your ass if you don’t, fuckface.”

  “Why not now?” I ask, ignoring Heather.

  “The thing is,” she glances up at me and the hurt filling her eyes a moment ago has morphed into anger. “I was in love with that boy I grew up next door to, but Tyler, I could never be in love with the man you’ve grown up to be.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Anger bubbles inside of me, and I take a step toward her. “You are kidding me, right?”

  “Tyler, you’re a fucking porn star. You fuck women for a living. Do you think I want to deal with that? I mean, think about if the situation were reversed. What if I was the one fucking people in front of a camera—people other than you?”

  I shrug. “I wouldn’t like it, but you know what? I know there’s more to you than a goddamn job title.”

  “Oh, please. You would flip your shit.”

  And she’s right. I would. It’s fucking stupid that I thought we could do this, and it makes me livid, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Quit over a girl I wasn’t even sure would take me back? I love her, but fuck it, I’m not going to throw away my livelihood on a chance.

  “You know what?” I say, pacing in front of the sink. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll fucking quit. I’ll go out there right now and tell Hudson to shove this job up his ass. I’d be fucking poor to have you.”

  Her eyes tear up, but she quickly blinks those away which means I’m fucked. If she won’t let herself cry, her mind’s fucking made up.

  “I mean it…” I reach for the door. “I’ll quit—”

  “It won’t matter.” She sighs. “I mean, what the hell? You quit, and then what? We ride off into the sunset?”

  �
�Sure. Why the fuck not?”

  “Because no matter what, you will always be a porn star. It’s not just a job you can wash your hands of.”

  “So…” I turn to look at her, my hand still resting on the doorknob. “It’s not really that I fuck other girls, it’s that you’re too good for it?” My pulse is in my throat. I can’t blame her. I can’t blame her, and it makes me angry.

  She swallows, her eyes drifting to the floor again. “I—that’s not what I meant, Tyler, It’s just—”

  “Oh, fuck no. You are perfect and untainted, huh?” I grit my teeth. “You can’t fuck a guy you were in love with because he’s a porn star, but it’s sure as shit okay for you to fuck a rock star that’s probably cramming his dick inside fifteen different cunts a night, huh? You can bend over for him all day long, film it, let that shit get all over the internet. Do you have any idea how many random fucking girls he’s had his cock in?” I laugh even though I see the hurt flooding her face.

  “I dated him.”

  “Oh,” a disbelieving laugh flies up my throat. “You dated him? So you can date a rock star. A nasty fucking rock star because he’s famous, right. Is that why?” Hurt drowns her face, but I keep digging because I can’t help it. “So fuck everything we went through. Fuck our entire lives growing up together. Loving each other. Fuck all that because I’ve done porn, but you can date a guy that probably fucks more girls in a week than I have my entire life. But just because I made money from it, you are too damn good?” I shake my head. “If you ask me, that’s way more disgusting than doing porn. That video, Jemma, is degrading and basically makes you look like a whore. A desperate fucking whore.”

  “Fuck you!” She shouts, brushing past me. “Just fuck you.”

  “Oh, so you can dig at me all day long, but let me take one jab at you and you lose your shit?”

  “I’m not talking about this anymore, Tyler.” She slings the door open, and before she can slam it shut, I grab onto the edge and pry it open. Heather’s right outside, already blocking my path.

  “Leave her alone or I’ll cut your dick off and shove it so far up your asshole it comes out of your throat. What a way for a porn star to go: fucked and choked by his own cock.”

  She spins around, chasing after Jemma. And I stand here like a fucking pussy because what can I do? Really, what can I do?

  A slight breeze kicks up, making my damp body shiver. I yank the towel off my shoulders, fold it, and lay it on the seat before I climb into Heather’s car. “Shit,” I mumble as she pulls away from the curb. I try to suck the tears back but fail miserably.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “God, I’m going to have to hurt him.”

  I sigh as I wipe the stray tears away. I feel like an idiot. Like a failure. Like a hypocrite. My life has imploded over the past few weeks and honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Part of me wants to say fuck it and give into him, part of me wants to ignore him, but the bigger part of me is confused.

  “It’s fine,” I say.

  “No, it’s not. It’s not fair to you. He never should have put you in this position, Jemma.” I toss my head against the seat and drag my hands down my face, groaning.

  “Really,” Heather says. “What really pisses me off is that he didn’t say anything to you to begin with. That’s just disrespectful. Then he is going to take you to dinner…I mean, how long do you think it would have taken him to say something to you about it. And why…” she pauses to check the lane before merging onto the interstate. “Why is he still trying? Fucking asshole.”

  “It’s complicated, Heather.”

  She groans. “I mean, do you want to be with him?”

  I drag in a breath and stare out of the window at the cars we’re whirring past. “The thing is, I wish I could be with him.”

  “Well, shit, Jemma. Just shit.”

  We sit in silence the rest of the way home. I go over and over in my head why I can’t be with him. Every time one of those memories of him tugs at my heart, I force myself to see him slamming into one of the girls at work. Everyone has that one that got away, the one they daydream will waltz back into their life and swoop them up into their arms. I have that chance right now, but can’t take it. And that really sucks.

  Groaning, I toss the covers off of me. That is the third time my phone has rang in the last thirty minutes. I’ve been too lazy to crawl out of bed and mute it and now I’ve given up on trying to go back to sleep.

  I stumble across the room to the cluttered dresser and snatch the phone from the top of a box of tampons, but it’s already stopped ringing. Three missed calls from David. The phone chimes with voicemail. I’m attempting to not get excited, but something must be going on if he’s calling me back to back this early in the morning.

  Inhaling, I pull the phone to my ear to listen to the message.

  “Hey Jemma, great news! I just got a call from Stefan Goldberg, and he wants you to audition for a lead role in a new TV series. Filming will be in Atlanta. Call me back. If you can, they want you in Warren Studios late tomorrow afternoon. Short notice, but it’s fucking Stefan Goldberg for fucks sake.”

  My mouth is literally hanging open. A fly could zip down my throat right now, and I don’t think even that could make me close my mouth. Stefan Goldberg is one of the biggest TV directors to ever exist. He called to have me audition. I let that sink in. And when it really hits me, I drop the phone and squeal, hopping up and down in place.

  The next afternoon I’m in front of the camera with my heart in my chest. My back hits the wall just as my shrill scream pierces my ears. And now, I’m trapped. His cold blue eyes narrow on me as he approaches.

  Cowering away, I whisper, “Please,” as his hand reaches for my throat.

  “That’s enough!” The director shouts, and the guy steps back across the room. “Thank you, Ms…” Stefan thumbs through the papers in his lap, “Ms….”

  “Morgan.” I clear my throat as I push away from the wall. “Jemma Morgan.”

  “Yes, Morgan.” He jots something down on my resume, not bothering to look up at me. “We’ll be doing callbacks in a week.”

  Stefan called David to ask if I’d be interested, and he can’t even remember my name? What an ass. “Thank you,” I say as I grab my purse from the chair in the corner of the room. My stomach churns as I cross the room. “I’ll look forward to a call.”

  He nods, his eyes still trained on the papers he’s shuffling through. A role like this could take me out of the innocent princess turned whore category. Working on his show would force people to take me serious as an actress. If I could land this, my entire life could change, but like I said, he couldn’t even recall my name.

  The entire drive home, all I can do is criticize the inflection in my voice when I read my lines, the way I positioned my body, the fact that the scream was too weak. By the time I’m walking into my apartment, I’ve decided that this is my plot in life—being a dildo handler. And that’s fine, but at some point, one wants to believe there is more meaning to their life than sterilizing sex toys.

  “Bitch tits,” I yell as I slam the door behind me. “You home?”

  I drop my purse on the floor next to the sofa and flop back onto the well-worn cushions before grabbing the remote.

  The toilet flushes and seconds later Heather’s standing at the end of the couch with her jeans still unbuttoned. “Fucking periods. Look at this shit!” She flicks her open fly. “I can’t even button them because I’m so bloated. This is bullshit.” She fights with the button for a moment. “So, how did the audition go?”

  “Like shit.”

  “What?”

  I shake my head. “He couldn’t even remember my name.”

  “Wait, didn’t he request you to do an audition.”

  I nod.

  “Well, fuck him.” I can tell by the concentrated look on her face that she’s trying to devise a way to distract me. “Get dressed. We’ll do d
inner and then we’re going to a strip club.”

  “I’ll do dinner…”

  “And you’ll do the strip club. I need some man meat to ogle, and I’ll just look like a weird pervert if I go by myself.”

  I glare at her for a minute then sigh. “Fine.”

  A few hours later and we’re two drinks and three strippers into a show. Heather whistles as the last dancer struts off the stage with his ass checks hanging out of some chaps. Glancing over her shoulder, I choke on my martini when my eyes land on the half-naked blond guy grinding on some girl.

  “Holy shit,” I say, wiping the dribble from the corners of my mouth.

  Heather’s mid chug and her eyebrows pinch together. She slams the empty beer bottle down on the table and burps. “What?” she asks.

  Nodding behind her, I smile. “Your one-night stand is a stripper.”

  “My wha…” She quickly spins around in her seat, nearly toppling over. “Oh, my God. That’s Jack…the porno scum’s roommate.”

  “His name is Jake.”

  “Look…” She turns back to me. “I got the first letter right. Close enough.”

  “Funny, huh? Tyler ends up being a porn star—”

  She holds a finger up. “Scum.”

  “And…” I roll my eyes. “Your one-nighter is a stripper.”

  “What a delight.” She glances back over her shoulder, watching Jake as he lifts the woman’s leg over his shoulder and dry humps the shit out of her. “Meh, stripper’s not so bad. I’d totally fuck him again.”

  “You are such a whore.”

  “Never denied it.” She grabs her purse from the floor and rummages through it. She lays a handful of tampons, crumpled receipts, a fork, a half-eaten Snickers bar, nail polish, and a vibrator on the table.

  “Heather…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Why the hell do you have a fucking vibrator in your purse?”