by T Gephart
His fingers knew exactly where to touch, rubbing my core as I moved against him, the friction not enough for me.
“Greedy.” He kissed me, his lips spreading into a grin. “I like that.”
My nipples tightened under my dress, my body primed to explode as my breath came out in short bursts, the length of his cock between my slit as I rocked my hips. “Fuck me, please.”
I was begging and I didn’t care, needing to feel him fill me more than I needed anything.
“Are you sure?” The head of his hard-on hovering at my entrance, his hand stopping as he waited for my reply.
“Yes.” My fingernails bit into his shoulders as he pushed inside of me hard. The feel of him so overwhelming I cried out his name.
“Tia.” He growled and thrust again, his hands at my hips guiding me. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Eric.” I bucked against him, the clothes on my skin feeling like they were on fire. “Yes, like that. Yes.”
It was so tight, the way our bodies were contorted pushed against each other, almost sharing the same breath. I loved the sweet delicious sting of his cock filling me over and over again as our lips tangled, words too much as we dissolved into grunts and groans.
“I’m going to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the tremor consuming me as the orgasm took hold. Waves of pleasure rippling through every inch of my body as it shook against him.
“Tia.” I felt him jerk against me, the convulsions of my pussy milking him as I came. “I need to pull out.”
“No.” My hips pressed down, pushing him further inside. “It’s okay, I need to feel you inside of me.”
“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hands so tight against my hips I could feel how desperate he was, his hot load filling me as his cock pulsed inside. “Oh my God.” His orgasm barreled out of him as he lost control, his lips fevered against mine as his tongue fucked my mouth.
It was so intense, the windows in the car completely fogged by our out-of-control breathing as our mouths consumed each other.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered against my mouth. “That was some hand job.” He barked out a throaty laugh.
“I got distracted. It happens a lot when you’re around,” I admitted, so relaxed and pliable against him I couldn’t have lied if I tried.
“Your dress is probably toast though.” His hands settled on my dress hitched up around my hips. “Pity, I liked this one.”
“I’m more worried we made a mess in your fancy car.” I looked down to my lap, but it was too dark to see anything.
“I don’t give a fuck about the car,” he growled. “What I do care about is that we’re in here and my bedroom is over there.” His head tipped to the dark house we’d parked in front of. “And I want to tear off the rest of your clothes and lay you out on my bed.”
“I thought you liked this dress?” I laughed, loving the urgency in his voice.
“I did, past tense.” His fingers moved across my still bare ass. “I already said what a pity it was.”
We both laughed, our foreheads resting against each other. It felt so natural to be around him it was hard to imagine a time when I wasn’t. Knowing that time wasn’t so long ago made the feeling even more surreal.
“Ummm. Just so you know.” I wasn’t sure if the unprotected sex was on his mind as much as mine. “I’m on the pill. I’m not trying to trap you or anything and I haven’t had sex without a condom in years.”
“I wasn’t worried, New York. I trust you.” His hand brushed against my cheek. “And if I had any doubts I was putting you at risk, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Okay.” I swallowed, the emotion thick in my throat. “We should probably go inside.”
“Yeah. We should.” His hand moved along my jaw. “I have a huge day tomorrow but I’m not willing to give up the rest of the night.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I think you will like the feel of it even better.”
I HAD BEEN ACTING CRAZY.
Sure, being neurotic wasn’t exactly a foreign concept, but this was even pushing the boundaries for me. I loved Eric, and yes it was sudden and probably too soon, but it’s the way I felt, nonetheless. And I could hide behind it being irrational or I could do the one thing I hadn’t done from the start.
I could come clean.
I’d lied. I’d misrepresented myself when we first met, and yeah, I may in the process, have misled him a little. But it didn’t change who I was. And it sure as hell didn’t change how I felt. So if I had any hope at all I needed to lay all my cards on the table and tell him the truth.
I, Tia Monroe, was a columnist. I wasn’t an actress unless you counted my preschool Christmas production where I played one of the wise men—Cindy Weisman had won the coveted role of Mary. And while I didn’t do what I said I did, I was the same person. The person who was completely and utterly in love with him.
Last night felt like a turning point, we’d made love so many times I’d lost count. But it wasn’t just that, the emotion had amplified, and I knew he felt it too. I needed to tell him; I owed him that and I couldn’t let another day go by where there was anything other than honesty between us.
He’d already left when I woke up, he’d told me he had a huge day so it was usual for him to be already gone. That meant I wouldn’t get my chance until tonight. This was a good thing because it gave me time to prepare rather than tossing an unrehearsed mess at his feet. No, this required planning. A nice dinner, a nice outfit, sexy lingerie, and definitely a drink or two. All things I would do to aid in the coming clean.
So while I could have spent the day pacing like an inmate on death row, I decided to take one of those fine looking cars in the garage out and pick up a few things. Ryan driving me wasn’t an option. Too many questions and not necessarily who I wanted with me when I went to buy new lingerie. Besides, I’d discovered the keys earlier in a wooden box in the study so all I had to do was pick which one and go. Eric wouldn’t mind, he’d told me to make myself at home and use whatever I needed. And while he hadn’t specifically mentioned the cars, he hadn’t said not to either. I’d even drive the speed limit and be extra careful when I parked. Last thing I wanted was something bad to happen to one of his expensive cars.
Ryan—if he didn’t have something important to do—usually slept until ten, so I was dressed and in the garage by nine. The Audi was the lucky car chosen to be my ride.
As quietly as I could I started the car and drove down the driveway, the large front gate opening when I’d rolled past the sensors. I’d forgotten I was going to need the code to get back in but I figured I’d jump off that bridge when I came to it, the gate slowly closing behind me as I stepped on the gas and drove away.
The Audi drove like a dream. While the idea of spending the kind of cash it took to acquire one made me want to dry heave, I could appreciate its beauty and power. And I sure enjoyed the feel of it in my hands. No pungent smell of burnt oil either. It was going to be tough to going back to driving my Buick.
With my phone as my co-pilot and navigator, I was able to get to downtown with no major issues at all. I didn’t even flip anyone off—difficult because they’d sure as hell deserved it—suppressing the urge and being proud at how well I was doing.
Because of my good behavior I’d decided to reward myself with breakfast before I got started. I spied a parking lot with a coffee shop nearby and decided it was fate. Park the car somewhere safe and get caffeinated, win/win. The morning was already shaping up to be awesome and if this was any indication of how the rest of the day was going to be, then I had nothing to worry about.
The coffee place was packed, the line curling around toward the door as hungry and thirsty customers waited to get their fix. As I really wasn’t in a hurry, I took a deep breath and enjoyed the smell of coffee and baked goods permeating the air as I stood in line behind a young, blonde, wish-they-all-could-be-California girl.
Oh, and she couldn’t have been ca
st more appropriately. Short denim cut-offs, vintage band T-shirt, flip-flops and oversized sunglasses perched against her whiter-than-white hair. She even had a tote bag, laptop sticking out the top. I guess in case there was a stock market crash and she needed to sell her shares in avocado or something. Or to blog about her morning latte.
Gah, I was such a judgmental bitch. I should probably work on that. Or at the very least discuss stereotypes and perceptions in my next column so I could call it work related.
Life-size Barbie turned and smiled so I returned the gesture. There was no need to be rude, even though before I had my morning caffeine hit I could be incredibly antisocial.
“Hey, you’re that girl.” David Lee Roth’s dream girl turned back around, eyeing me more carefully.
“Sorry?” I looked around in case she was talking to someone else. Nope, there was a dude wearing skinny jeans, a man-bun and beard behind me. I was the only girl in her field of vision.
“Yeah, it is you.” She nodded more insistently making up her mind I was in fact, the girl. “You’re Eric Larsson’s new girlfriend.”
Well. There’s that.
I hadn’t really expected public recognition. I’d assumed that when he was with me I’d receive some level of interest, but solo, I was just a nobody like anyone else.
“I’m just here to get breakfast.” I did my best to maintain a smile as I sidestepped the question entirely.
“There’s photos of you kissing him all over the net.” She leaned in and whispered like she was my new BFF. “It’s no big deal, if he was my boyfriend I’d be telling everyone. You guys looked hot.”
What I should have done was continued to be non-committal, smile politely and then make eye contact with the oversized menu board above the counter. But like lots of times in my life, I didn’t do what I should have done.
“What photos?” I asked, common sense MIA as curiosity got the better of me. I was my own worst enemy.
“Hang on a second.” She pulled out her laptop and balanced it on a nearby table. Her bright pink fingers tapped as she pulled up a webpage, turning the screen so I could see. “See, there. That’s you, right?” Her pink nails pointed to a photo of me and Eric, his tongue solidly down my throat and his hands all over my ass.
“Shit.”
Not only had some asshole managed to get photos of Eric and I dry humping on set a few days ago—something I hadn’t even considered—but they’d also printed my name. And that wasn’t the half of it.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I ran out of the coffee shop leaving Barbie deserted and my breakfast forgotten as I speed dialed my phone. On a scale of one to bad—this was the end of the world.
“Lila, they know who I am.” My panicked voice double barreled down the line as soon as she answered.
“Tia, what are you talking about?” She’d didn’t share the same sense of alarm. No, it was only me who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“The press, they know my name.” I tried not to hyperventilate on the street. “And that’s not all. There were details too. Where I live, where I went to college, that I write for The Post. All of it. I don’t know how, but they know everything and all of it is online.”
How they’d even gotten all that information was beyond me. I’d been dating Eric fairly safely under the radar and no one had even given me a second thought. I was totally okay with no name friend. But for some reason with the emergence of the new photos also came a full dossier on me. They’d FBI profiled me into next week. There was even a graduation picture for fuck’s sake. In the cruelest of fates, I’d been exposed.
Twenty-four hours.
In twenty-four hours it wouldn’t have made a difference because Eric would have known everything. Instead I was now racing against the clock to make sure I told him before he read about it online.
“T, where are you?” Lila asked, my heavy breathing peppered with the noise of traffic.
“I’m on the street somewhere.” The panic bubbled up my throat. “I don’t know.” I looked around trying to remember exactly where I was. Not that it mattered where my geographical location was. I was in hell as far as I was concerned.
“All right, try and keep calm.” Lila tried to be the voice of reason. “Where’s Eric?”
“At the studio. Not with me.” It would be okay. He wouldn’t have time to read anything. He was rarely even online. Too busy doing movie star shit to worry about what the tabloids were saying about his love life. And surely Ryan wouldn’t bother with online gossip sites. Or his agent. Or his mom. Holy shit. What if someone else saw and told him? No. They wouldn’t. No one would see. It was gossip, not the leading headline on the news. It would be okay.
“Okay, can you get somewhere safe? I don’t think having a freak out on the street is a good thing.”
This was true. For all I knew I could have a zoom lens pointed at me watching me have a Britney Spears meltdown as we spoke. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to give them that.
“Yes, I have a car. I can drive.” My body swished around with the phone pressed to my ear trying to remember where the parking lot was. It was close, why couldn’t I remember which direction? The world swirled in an uncertain blur as everything around me looked unfamiliar.
“Drive carefully, get somewhere safe and then call Eric immediately. Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.” My eyes closed still no closer to knowing which direction I needed to go. “Thanks, Lila. I miss you.”
There were people who said stuff like that—call me if you need anything—but there weren’t many people who meant it. Lila on the other hand would move heaven and earth to help a friend even from the other side of the country. But as much as I cared about her, and her me, this was a mess I was going to have to get out of on my own.
Breathe.
I tried to get a handle on my out-of-control pulse and talk myself off a ledge. Nothing bad had happened yet. All I needed to do was find the car, drive home and call Eric. I had planned on telling him everything today anyway, it was going to be okay. And then the dust would clear and I could tell him how much I loved him.
I loved him.
And the path wouldn’t have taken me here for it all to end now.
It just wouldn’t.
Oh God, I really hoped it wouldn’t.
I’d walked in a circle for over thirty minutes before I found the parking lot. It was exactly three feet away from where I had started, its bright white sign taunting me. Amazing how under a fog of fear even the simplest of tasks seemed impossible.
Cursing a few times—okay more than just a few—I found the Audi exactly where I’d left it with not even a rogue fingerprint covering its shiny black paint. Well, at least that was a plus, and I didn’t have to add car damage to my confessional.
It took me longer to get back, the drive slower than usual as I recited in my head things I needed to say. I just had to make him understand, there was no way around it. And I would keep talking until I’d convinced him. I had to admit, my feeling of confidence wasn’t sky high.
I’d made it all the way to the large closed gate when I remembered I didn’t have a code. And just as I was about to press the intercom—hoping Ryan would answer and open it for me—when the closed gate slowly opened all by itself.
The miracle not so miraculous once I saw why.
As I pulled up beside the house, standing at the front door was Eric. His hands folded tightly across his chest. And he didn’t look happy.
Fuck.
He knew.
Slowly I exited the car, trying to not make any sudden moves that could be seen as hostile as I walked toward him, the keys still in my hand.
“Eric . . .” The rest of the sentence got lost on its way out of my mouth.
“Tia.” He said my name with so much distaste, my blood turned cold. “You have fun?” His eyes narrowed as they moved to his car and then rested back on me.
“I can explain.” I held up my hands de
fensively praying I still had a chance.
“Really?” His lip curled into a smile but there was nothing warm about it. “I don’t think you can.”
“Look, I know there were things you didn’t know about me.” I forced myself to keep talking. “And I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you. But everything just snowballed—”
“Please spare us both the bullshit, Tia.”
I hated the way he was looking at me, with such distrust. It was as if any feelings he had toward me had been erased. Like they’d never existed.
“Eric, you have every right to be mad. But I—”
“I trusted you and you’re a fucking reporter,” he roared, his eyes so full of hate I actually took a step back. “I invited you into my bed. Into my home. For what? A story?”
“No, you weren’t a story, I swear. I’m not that kind of reporter.” The distinction not one he seemed to care about as I tried in vain to explain. “It was all real, I promise. I’m still the same person.”
“It was all real?” He shook his head, his brows knitting like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. “And you.” He took a step closer, so close I could touch him if I just reached out my hand, and sneered. “I don’t even know you.”
It felt like I’d been punched in the chest, the breath knocked out of me as I clutched at my heart as I struggled to speak.
“Please.” My lungs fought to expand. “I’m sorry. Let me explain.”
I knew it was a losing battle. Nothing I could say would change any of it. And worst of all I couldn’t even blame him. It was my fault, I had done all of it. And yet, I wanted so desperately to hold him and tell him that it was still me. That though there were parts of it that weren’t true, most of it—my feelings, the things we shared—were as real as it got.
He didn’t speak, the lips that had once kissed me thinned into a tight line. His eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and anger as he towered above me.
“I’m so sorry.” I knew it wasn’t enough, but I had to say it anyway, my eyes stinging as I fought back tears.
“Yeah, I am too,” he said quietly as he took a step back.