by J. J. McAvoy
"You like?" He grinned with pride. "I know you have your own people—"
"No, it's amazing!” I assured him. “Thank you so much."
"Oh, thank God. I thought you were quiet because you hated it," he laughed awkwardly.
My resting bitch face strikes again.
"No, I'm just nervous," I laughed.
His mouth dropped open. "You? You're nervous?"
"Yeah, I always get nervous right before I do an interview—or anything else."
"I don't believe it."
No one does. People sometimes forget we are human. Who is naturally comfortable speaking to millions of people?
"Well, it's true. This is it, right?" I asked waving my hand over my face. He nodded, helping me take off the paper towel around my neck.
"Umm, I know you must get this all the time, but do you mind?" he asked, holding up his camera.
"Ms. London, is—"
I waved my hand over at Austin, cutting him off. “It's okay, Austin. How else will the world know who is responsible for this face?"
Austin was completely different from Oliver. He never really said anything until he needed to. He was always just in the background, watching carefully. Sometimes I would even forget he was there. But what I couldn’t deny was the fact that he got his job done. Anything I wanted—hell, I didn’t even have to ask for things I wanted. He already had them set up. Like this late-night talk show with Sammy Graham.
“Okay,” the stylist said, smiling as he leaned in next to me and took a selfie. Seeing the red light flash, I stood up. Austin looked me over and then nodded, opening the backstage door for me. It was funny—no matter what city I was in, the backstage of the studio always looked the same. People chattered jargon into microphones and ran around like chickens. It never failed to amuse me.
I walked to edge of the stage, watching as Sammy finished his intro for me. "Now if you don't know our next guest, then you've just probably invented the wheel. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Amelia London!"
I took a deep breath before walking out and waving to the crowd as I made my way to Sammy. We hugged for a moment before I sat down, crossing my legs.
"Welcome!" he said once again, and the crowd just kept applauding.
"I love you, Amelia!" some guy yelled.
"Aww, thank you! I love you all, too!" I said, laughing.
"Wow," Sammy said, looking out to his crowd. "Why don't I ever get a welcoming like that?"
"You mean they don't clap for you? Don't you have one of those 'Applause' signs?" I joked.
"I did until they found out you were coming, and their excitement just blew it up."
"Sorry, I should have warned you about that," I joked.
"Oh, so it's happened before?" Sammy quipped.
"They don't call my fans the Londonite Nation for nothing!" I turned to the crowd, who once again went wild. It felt like a baseball game in there. Finally, when they quieted down, Sammy continued.
"Yes, the Londonites almost broke Twitter last night with that promo photo. Let’s take a look one more time," he said, turning toward the screen that showed the promo photo of me bound in red rope with Noah standing right beside me pulling the binds tighter around my wrists, that goddamn wicked grin spread over his lips as he stared only at me. Meanwhile, it looked like I was having on an orgasm. Thinking back on it, I think I might have.
“Jesus Christ, Sinners Like Us is right,” Sammy said, whistling.
"Thank you?” I laughed. “Oh God. It’s so weird seeing photos like that posted all over the city.”
“Weird for you? I still remember you as that spunky girl with pigtails on Kid Genius.”
I was damn tired of hearing about Kid Genius. “What can I say? I grew up and changed the rating of my life.”
“And we love it!” another random guy yelled.
“That’s right, everyone. I mean, everyone is just dying for this movie to be released. I wanted to ask: what was it like on set the first day they asked you to do that?” he pointed back up at the photo.
“I was terrified. But being tied up by your boyfriend isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I said, winking at the camera knowing full well that Noah was watching somewhere. “Besides, Sinners Like Us is so much more than two lovers who enjoy rope play.”
"Since you brought up Noah," Sammy said. He wiggled his eyebrow.
"Oh, here it comes," I said, taking the mug left out for me.
"You know, I gotta ask, just for the poor saps at home and in this audience who have pictures of you taped up on their walls."
“Fine, fine. Ask.”
“You and Noah Sloan: is it the real deal, or is this just a stunt?”
“Sammy, this movie doesn’t need any more hype than it already has.”
“So it’s a yes.”
“It’s a hell yes. Sorry, ladies,” I replied. There was a mixture of sounds coming from the audience.
“So you guys came out as couple while filming, but you two dated once before, right? How did it happen again?”
On the screen was a photo of Noah and me as teenagers wearing matching denim outfits and blue shades.
“Ugh…” I groaned, putting my face in my hands and trying not to laugh while the audience cooed at us. Shaking my head, I went on. “We both were young, and it was our first time dating. We were going through our awkward years, as you can see, except we did it front of the whole world. But when you get to your twenties as a former child star, you’ve seen a lot. We both just reconnected, and there was no turning back.”
“There are rumors that things got very… heated on set. Was all of it just acting, or…?”
“I don’t know, Sammy. You’re just going to have watch the movie and let me know,” I responded coyly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Amelia London. Her new movie, Sinners like Us, comes out this December."
I smiled, standing as our interview ended. The light flashed red by the camera, signaling the commercial break.
"Thank you so much for coming on last minute," Sammy said as he shook my hand.
"No, thank you! It was a lot of fun," I replied with a smile, moving toward Austin and a few of my bodyguards off stage.
There was no time to chat. They just ushered me out the back door. Austin handed me my sunglasses, and I sighed, placing them on my face as they opened the door. Keeping my head down, I was basically surrounded by screaming fans as I headed into the car.
"We love you!"
"Just one picture!"
"I'm your biggest fan!"
"Please follow me back on Twitter!"
Finally, when I was in and the door closed, I took a deep breath and leaned into my seat.
"So if you fly out tonight, you can be in—"
"Austin, I'm tired. I just want to go home tonight."
"What about—"
"I’ll call Noah and let him know." While I had come back to Los Angeles for two weeks, Noah was in New York. Now that shooting had wrapped up, we both had other work to do before we had to go on the full promotional tour for the movie. Austin spent most of his days flying back and forth between us—how he managed to juggle everything was beyond me. However, I couldn’t complain. Reaching for my phone, I dialed Noah’s number. However, it went straight to voicemail—and that was the second time today.
I didn’t want to be one of those girls … but would it kill him to at least text?
“He’s in the studio working on voiceover work. You know they turn their phones off so it doesn’t interfere with anything, right?” Austin asked.
“I know.”
“Then why do you look annoyed at your phone?”
“Smartass,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
Ignoring him, I glanced out the window. There was something odd about being here after returning from Chicago. I was born here, but now, something felt off, and no matter how much I had thought about it, I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Finally, when the car stopped after we entered the
private garage of The Tower, my bodyguard opened the door.
"Nolan, thanks, but I'm okay." They weren't really needed anymore. The Tower was home to some of the most famous people in the world. It was easier to get into the White House than it was to get in here.
"Amelia, we don’t want a repeat of the last incident. Let them go up and check the place.” The incident he was referring to was one crazy fan who hid in a bathroom trashcan just to take photos of me—a fucking trashcan.
“It’s The Tower. I’ve lived here for years, and no one has gotten through,” I said as politely as possible, moving towards the elevator.
"Just text me when you’re in."
"Fine," I called out as the doors closed. And just when I thought he was less overprotective than Oliver.
"Thank you." I tipped the elevator attendant as I got off on my floor.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said as the doors closed.
Stepping into my flat, I grinned at the mixtures of pink: still my favorite color. Taking my shoes off right at the door, I froze, noticing a tub of vanilla icing sitting on my counter along with a silver spoon.
"I could tell you were craving some."
My head whipped around to him so fast it might have fallen off had it not been attached. He stood there, in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, just staring back at me.
"Noah!" I grinned, running to him. He caught me as I jumped on him and he kissed me just as hard as I kissed him. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but right now, I just wanted to be with him.
His hands ripped at my dress as he walked us to the bedroom. Without a second thought, he threw me onto the bed, peeling the rest of my dress off.
"You looked beautiful tonight," he muttered, kissing up my stomach.
"You were watching?"
"Always," he whispered, taking my lips once again.
As I pulled at his shirt, the buttons popped off all over the room. I ran my hands up his chest.
He took off my bra, cupping both of my breasts, and I shivered, not sure what to say to him. He didn't even give me a chance before he took a nipple into his mouth.
"Noah—" I gasped, wrapping my legs around him.
He kissed from the top of my breasts and down my stomach until he reached my panties, peeling them off as he made his way further south.
"Say it," he whispered, his eyes glazed over with lust.
A wicked grin spread across my face as a shiver went down my spine. “Tie. Me. Up. Noah.”
He said nothing, rising off the bed and moving to my side table as I propped myself up on the pillows. Actors technically weren’t supposed to take things from the set, and in the past, I had taken things like pants or dresses. However, Noah took one thing and one thing alone: the red rope.
Watching as he wrapped it around his hand, I felt my chest tighten with anticipation. I bit my lip and sat up on my knees when he looked back over at me. His eyes traveled the length of my body, mapping out exactly how he was going to tie me. Each time we did this, he tied me in a different way, and each time, I found myself wanting more. To go further, to push the boundaries of everything.
“Come,” he said, and I crawled off the bed, kneeling in front him. I stretched my hands out in front me. Gently, he lifted all my hair, tying it up into a messy bun on top of my head, and instead of taking my hands right away, he lifted my chin.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but stopped himself, kissing my forehead.
“Turn around.”
I did as he asked. He pulled my arms back around my back, tying the rope around my wrists twice. My heart race as he worked his way up my arms, weaving and—
“Ahh!” I gasped when he pulled tighter, my back arched fully.
With my arms tied, he circled me, his eyes never looking away from my body as he stopped and tied the rope around my breasts tightly, my nipples erect for him—only him.
“Noah…” I moaned, the pain was nothing in comparison to the pleasure I got when he looked at me like this. Like I was the only woman in the world, his own personal masterpiece. Closing my eyes, I accepted everything, jumping only when I felt the rope move between my thighs.
“Beautiful,” he whispered when he was done.
I was completely under his control, unable to move, unable to think of anything but him, wanting him.
He bit his own lip as his thumb brushed over my nipples. “I’ll never stop being turned on by this.”
“Noah—”
“Say it.”
I couldn’t. I was already melting in his hands, my body hot.
“Baby,” he said as he kissed my jaw, his hand securely on my neck, “I know you want to. Don’t torture me. Say it.”
“W—whip … me.” My voice trembled, not out of fear—no, fuck, I wanted it. “Whip me.”
Kissing my lips hard, he got up and grabbed the horsetail whip, and like always, he let it glade freely over my skin before …
SNAP. The middle of my back.
SNAP. The side of my stomach.
The whip glided up my stomach and rested right on my hip. I glanced up at him and he back down at me.
SNAP.
“Ahh!” I hissed, my head thrown back.
SNAP.
SNAP.
“Fuck,” I moaned
“Spread your legs.”
He didn’t need to ask twice. I more than glad to—
SNAP.
The sound of his whip smacking my wet pussy … I would never not be embarrassed by it, but I’d always want it.
Wiggling under him, I ached for him. I needed him.
SNAP.
SNAP.
SNAP.
SNAP.
“NOAH! Please,” I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him.
“Say it.”
“Fuck me, please!”
He smirked, bent down, and lifted me off the ground with ease before dropping me onto my stomach in the middle of the bed.
“If it’s a fuck you want, it’s a fuck you’ll get,” he replied rubbing his cock in between my ass cheeks slowly, making me even wetter, if that was possible. My only reply was to shake my ass for him—it was the only part of myself I could really move at this point, anyway.
“Noa—”
“Fuck,” he gasped, thrusting himself into me. My mouth dropped open from the sheer pleasure of it. He waited only for a second, if that, before pulling out and burying himself again, even deeper, over and over again.
“Two weeks,” he grunted, thrusting so hard the bed slammed into the wall. “Two. Fucking. Weeks. How did I live without you and this fucking ass for two weeks?”
I didn’t know. My mouth was open, but the only sounds coming from it didn’t sound like English.
"Noah—"
"No," he declared.
"So close."
"We do it together," he responded.
I didn't think I could wait for him. I didn't want to.
"Come … on ... baby," he said between grunts above me.
With each thrust, I felt myself losing any control over my body I had left. The sweat dripped from his body on to mine, and I welcomed it. All of him—I wanted it.
“NOAH!”
“AMELIA!” he cried out when he came, breathing in deeply for only a second before pulling out of me, my body crumbling on to the bed.
My chest rose and fell as I lay on top of the sheets.
Neither of us spoke as he moved to untie me, a process that thankfully took less time than the actual tying.
“I missed you,” he said when he undid the final tie, kissing the middle of my back. Smiling, I rolled over, opening my arms to him, and he lay down on top of me.
“I missed you more.”
Noah
“You both gotta be kidding me!”
Cracking one eye open, the first thing I saw was hair, Amelia’s brown hair, sprawled out on my face, her naked body partially on mine. And in the doorway was Austin, glaring down at the both of us.
/> “It’s 10 a.m., Amelia. You have a photo shoot in an hour!”
“Please make him go away,” Amelia groaned, grabbing the sheets and dragging them over her head.
“Austin, go away,” I laughed, pulling the sheet over my head as well and grabbing her sides, causing her to giggle hysterically as she tried to roll away from me.
“You both have been like this for three months. The honeymoon needs to be over. Get up, or I swear, Amelia, I’ll make sure you’re thirty before you get another day off!” he snapped, slamming the door behind him.
“You’re only punishing the both of us!” she yelled in return as I pinned her under me.
“You’re going to give him gray hair,” I teased.
“Says the man who ditched his work in New York for a quick screw,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at me.
“It was hardly quick—”
“Noah. Get out here now!” Austin bellowed.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“We get it! We’re—”
“Noah!”
I froze. The tone his voice was odd. Rolling off Amelia, I pulled on my boxers before opening her bedroom door to find him staring at the TV on the wall. The scroll on the bottom read, “Huge drug bust in the heart of Chicago today.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind, Austin? I nearly had a heart attack. Why would you—”
He rewound to three minutes prior, pausing on a shot of Frank, shooting at the fucking police before jumping into a white van.
“Keep watching,” he said, fast-forwarding.
“One of the suspects, Frank Sloan, father of former child star Noah Sloan, is currently on the run—” He muted the television, pinching the bridge of his nose.
I didn’t have words. How? How is it possible for one man to be so fucking stupid?
“You should be able to guess how this gets worse,” Austin groaned, trying to contain the rage we both had to be feeling at this point.
“It gets worse than this?” Amelia stepped out, gray robe wrapped around her body, her hair an absolute mess, and I loved it. When I stretched my hand out to her, she came over, placing her hands on either side of my face.
“I get it. Being on the police’s radar—in any way, shape, or form—is bad,” she whispered, her hands working their way into my hair. “But he knows nothing about us.”