by Harley Rayne
“Yeah, but, like… for real for real.”
“You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So drunk isn’t my thing.”
“What izzzz your thing?”
“Consent.”
“I’m… mmmgiving that.”
“Mel, no. You aren’t.” I feel almost bad for her, and I wonder if she’s done this with someone else.
Her hand reaches out to rub my beard, her nude manicured nails scratching my jaw. “Ssss’nice. You’re… you’re nice.”
“Okay.” Once more, I pluck her hand from me and press it away. She sinks down against me again, but this time she’s asleep. Frankly, I’m relieved.
I give the driver five stars and a ten dollar tip when we arrive, even though I’m sure this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in his car. I carry her to her front stoop, nudging her a little to wake her enough so she can stand and I can fish out her keys.
The process wakes her up a bit, and she winds up stumbling inside, one bare foot after the other, like she’s shuffling through mud instead of hardwood.
She lives in an apartment complex on the bottom floor, and the two-story place is relatively nice. It’s well-kept, sprinkled with wood carvings and abstract art. It seems like something from Better Homes.
“Where’s your coffee?” I ask, heading to the kitchen to try and find it. I root through cabinets as she mutters something and flops onto her couch. She has an entire shelf devoted to tea and I search for something with caffeine, but I don’t know shit from shinola as far as this is concerned. I abandon the hunt for a glass of water instead.
I fill it from the filter she has sitting next to her sink and take it to her, sitting on the couch and handing it off. “Drink.”
“Bossy.” She manages to push herself up until she’s sitting, and takes the glass with two hands to drink from it. “Sssss’good.”
“Yeah, enjoy it, drunky.”
She snorts a laugh, and some of the water splashes onto her shirt. I tug a blanket from the back of the couch and slide it over her legs. She pulls it up instinctively.
“You gonna be okay?” Melanie nods, and I give her shoulder a little squeeze. “Okay. I’m gonna get going then. Where’s your phone?”
She hands it off to me easily, and I take her hand to press her thumb to the home screen. I set a few alarms for her so she’ll be on set on time, and set it on the coffee table. “Get some rest, Mel.”
The last thing I want to give is the impression of impropriety, so I get up before she tries to ask me to stay. I make sure the front door will lock behind me and I leave, pulling it firmly behind.
It’s a thirty minute walk home, but I’m not interested in apping another Uber and I need to clear my mind. Besides, regardless of the fact that it’s past midnight, no one in their right mind would fuck with me. I look intimidating, and even if I didn’t, I could probably fuck an aggressor up.
And Kylie is all I can think about.
I hate the way that my mind keeps coming back to her, but I also don’t hate the fact that she’s all I can think about. I can see her so clearly, almost like she’s walking beside me. Her brown hair -- the length of which I can’t be sure, since she always has it back in a messy bun. Her hazel eyes, hidden by thick, black glasses. The curve of her body, which reminds me that she’s a normal girl, not just one more in the legion of porn star babes I’m used to fucking on a regular basis.
She’s perfect for me, and she has no fucking clue. Or at least, I think we’ve gotten past the part where she thinks I’m a total asshole. We’ve come to some sort of peace. I’ve even made her smile once.
Still, I want to see her. She said she’d be back on set in a few days but a few days isn’t soon enough. I need her now. I need her as soon as I can have her. The thought of not having her is so intense that I’m almost trembling when I reach the front door of my building.
The doorman greets me but I’m on a mission, and I give him a slight wave as I head to the elevator. 34th floor. Penthouse. Of course I have the penthouse. I’m almost pissed at the simplicity and the obviousness of it now. I realize that I’ve been living a life full of stereotypes, just like Kylie said, and there isn’t a genuine thing here.
My AVN Awards are scattered on the hanging shelves I installed above my flatscreen. I’ve got pictures of myself with famous assholes everywhere. I’m so full of shit that it’s a miracle my eyes aren’t brown.
I’ve never been so furious with myself as I am right now.
The alcohol doesn’t help, nor does my refusal of Melanie. I feel guilty somehow, like I’ve hurt her feelings, even though it was just a plastic wall of intimacy she was trying to set up. It would hurt her, and that’s not what I want.
But what about me? I had goals once. Plans. I knew where I was going and how the fuck I was going to get there. And now? I’ve complicated my life, and it feels like I’ve hit a midlife crisis fifteen years early.
I imagine Kylie here, her things scattered amid mine, and it makes me feel a little better. I picture her next to me, sprawled out on the couch, her eyes half-lidded, her hand outstretched to me. I hear her whimper my name, like I’m too far away, and I reach for her.
I’m watching the movie in my mind as my hand braces against the wall and my cock hardens. I rub against it with the palm of my other hand, working it, my eyes darting over the couch.
I picture her parting her legs as I settle myself between them, my lips at her neck. She pulls the tie out of her hair and I take hold of it to keep her as close to me as possible. I suck her neck and she moans for me, her body shifting to get close to mine.
My shaft is straining against the zipper of my jeans now and it’s uncomfortable, so I thumb the button and tug down the zipper. Relief comes as I take out my cock, hand circling it, barely able to hold myself up. I’m overcome by this fantasy, and how I imagine her skin tasting.
In my mind, she’s forward and demanding. She knows what she wants. She tells me to lick her, and I push up her shirt as I make my way down her body, covering it with kisses.
The alcohol is settling into my system and I’m unaware of how close I am. I can feel my balls tighten and draw up, and I’m barely able to moan before I come, spilling into my hand, just as I imagine peeling Kylie’s panties down.
I don’t think I’ve come this fast since high school.
I’m amazed that a woman I barely know can have such a strong effect on me. But then again, is it all that surprising? Kylie is the kind of woman who’s confident, steadfast, but still doesn’t know her worth. She is so much more than where she is and the job she’s doing.
As I shuffle into the bathroom to shower off, I wonder how I can tell her that. And I wonder how tolerable the set will be tomorrow without her if she doesn’t feel up to coming.
Chapter Thirteen: Kylie
I’ve fallen asleep again.
I don’t know what it was that lulled me into slumber, but I certainly have a few guesses. It has the middle-of-the-night quiet when I wake up, and there I am in bed, with Rob beside of me.
It has all the makings of a total fantasy, and how many times have I had this particular one? I blink a few times, I pinch my thigh, and I realize… it’s real.
At some point, he’d shrugged off his jacket and shoes and crawled underneath the covers with me. I lift the covers slightly and I see his boxer-briefs; his pants are on the freaking floor. Rob is in bed, with me, with no pants, and he’s perfect.
He’s sleeping, so I give myself a few moments to study him like this.
His stubble is darker than his hair, thickest at his chin, and I want to kiss it. Suck it. Feel it between my lips and on my tongue. His nose is perfectly sloped, the tip of it small enough that it’s an addition to his face, not a distraction. This man, I swear to God, is the most perfectly carved man I’ve ever met in my entire life. Now that he’s only in his t-shirt, I can see the muscles of his arms, lines that se
em placed and drawn more than earned. Everything about him is just natural.
Even the way he breathes as he sleeps seems manufactured in its perfection. His nostrils flare just slightly, the inhale filling his lungs so his chest swells. I’m not entirely sure how I got lucky enough to have this perfectly well-formed man in my bed, but he’s here and I’m not about to complain.
I shift down, and take a chance by lying my head on his chest. And Rob stirs, his arm instinctively coming around my shoulders to keep me in against him. He inhales once, sharply, rousing himself from sleep, and he looks down as I look up. Our lips are a breath away from one another.
“Feeling okay?” he mumbles, body still waking up to greet his mind.
“Mmhmm.” I’m worried about my breath, so I keep my lips sealed. But he doesn’t seem to mind.
There’s a pause, and then a change, and I can feel him give, leaning in towards me, forehead tipping so it meets mine.
I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. My heart begins pounding, my thighs searing, wanton need plunging through my stomach and down until it hits my inner walls which clench in need of him. I’m aware through my throbbing that I’m soaking wet. I wonder if I should mention this to him, or at least inform him that I’m utterly aroused, but he moves before I can.
His lips find mine, and it’s such a sudden moment that I’m completely caught off guard by it. But he’s fearless and depthless before I am, and the pressure of his mouth is intoxicating. Rob moves, his body turning, his hand at my waist, as he shifts some of his weight on top of me.
I part my lips.
He fills the gap with his tongue, exploring my mouth, finding my tongue to flick against it. He lets out a moan, satisfied and sated, as he sucks my tongue into his mouth, inviting me in.
I lick it, the rest of my body struck numb and on fire. His hand at my waist rises, fighting underneath my shirt to find my breasts. At first, his palm simply lies between them on my sternum, but his thumb grows impatient and begins to rub small circles.
I arch my back so Rob can reach me better, so he can know it’s okay, and he takes the mile with my inch, sliding his hand over to cup my breast. He squeezes, fore and middle fingers capturing my nipple and giving it a tug, and I let out a sharp whine at the feeling. It makes me wetter. One of his legs is between mine, and my thighs clamp around it, hips betraying me as they roll against his muscle, needing friction and some kind of relief.
He responds by pushing his thigh up against my hot core and my body moves with it, shifting up slightly. I whimper into his mouth, and he pulls back from the kiss without sealing it to mutter, “Good girl…”
I can feel his cock hardening against me, and I am elated. I’ve done that. I’ve turned Rob on and made him want me. I feel incredibly triumphant, amazingly wanted, and brilliantly sexy for what must be one of a dozen times in my entire life.
My hands have been useless by my side and I finally utilize them, overcoming the initial nerves that came with disbelief that Rob would be here with me. One hand finds his shoulder, the other dips lower, and I make a bold decision. I cup his groin over his boxer-briefs, and he presses his hips against my palm, encouraging me with a moan.
He pulls away from my breast to reach behind to his shoulders and gather his shirt. He tugs until it’s off, breaking all contact with me for a moment in order to do so. It’s hard to see his body from this angle, with his hands on either side of me, supporting his weight in bed, but I feel his stomach against mine. There aren’t many thick muscles, but he’s all hard anyway, metal and steel and all man.
Meanwhile, my hand hasn’t left his erection, and I rub my palm up and down along it, trying to work him up. My hips grind against his leg, and I realize I might come without him even being inside of me, as much as I want it.
“I hope you don’t think I’m being unprofessional,” I say, hushed. I accent it with a breath of a laugh that he graciously mirrors.
“We’re off the clock.”
“Good, because if you left right now, I might cry.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses me again feverishly before pulling back to sit on his haunches. His hands run up the thigh that isn’t caught between his legs, resting at my knee. I wonder whether or not I should be self-conscious, but he’s looking at me, really studying me, and I suddenly feel absolutely stunning.
He’s looking at me the same way he looks over the playback from set, or how he looks when he reads the script. He’s seeing me as a piece of his work, as something to be relished and nearly worshipped. He confirms it when he says, “You’re fucking sexy, do you know that?”
“You said that to me once on set,” I say, my fingers dancing over my stomach.
“I meant it then, too. I wanted you.”
“I wanted you, too.”
His smile grows devilish, and he taps my knee once. “We should have just done it then.”
I’m smiling as he moves, crawling to the edge of the bed. He leans half of his body off of it to scrounge around for something, and he pulls his pants back into bed with him, resuming his place kneeling.
“Aren’t you supposed to be taking off clothes?” I tease, but secretly pray that he isn’t looking to redress now that we’ve taken a step towards the intimate.
Rob shoots me a dazzling smile. “Don’t worry. Rub yourself.”
I wet my lips and obey, a hand slipping down into my panties, fingers finding my clit to trace small circles. My body is buzzing. “I touched myself when you were in the kitchen…” My words are breathy and sex-hazed.
He looks pleased. “Naughty girl.” He finds what he’s looking for and pulls out his wallet, and from it, a condom. He holds it up like a prize, and I nod with a smile.
Rob puts the packaging between his teeth in order to reach in towards me, then he pulls the waistband of my panties, sliding them. I pull up my knees to help him, and he tosses them over his shoulder. He pulls off his own boxer-briefs, shifting to tug out one leg and then the other, and finally tears the condom packet.
My finger is still working my clit into a frenzy as I have a realization: I’m about to fuck Rob. It’s something I’ve wanted for so long, something my body has craved, and it’s happening. I work to store the motions to memory so I can relive them over and over again.
His cock has sprung free, and I watch with hungry eyes as he rolls the condom over it.
With some sense of familiarity, as though we’ve done this a million times, his hands find my calves, and he hoists them up so my ankles dangle over his shoulders, the backs of my thighs resting at his chest. I’m already panting as he guides his erection to my already-soaked entrance, and with a single thrust, he pushes himself inside of me.
I gasp at the feeling. He’s filled me completely. Rob gives me a moment to adjust before he draws out of me and rocks his hips forward again. His hands grip my knees, keeping me locked against him. I arch my back and use my free hand to yank my shirt up over my breasts, exposing them. Rob turns almost predatory, and his motion jerks once, disjointed. I’m immediately satisfied by that.
He hasn’t even broken a sweat. His breath is even through his nose, though his nostrils are slightly flared. I’m suddenly aware that everything is easy for him. And he’s good at everything.
With a hard push, his cock hits something inside of me that’s so sensitive and delicious it makes me cry out. He seems to like the reaction, because he does it again, harder this time, and I can hear the slap of his skin against mine. I’m suddenly lost, no more mental faculties. I can only hear and feel and smell Rob, even tasting the remnants of his mouth.
Rob parts my legs and hugs them around his waist in a sudden movement before he tumbles down on top of me. His lips find mine again, and our kiss is sloppy and hedonistic. He picks up his pace and thrusts hard and fast inside of me. My ankles lock behind him in order to keep myself as flush against him as possible.
My hands fall to his upper arms,
which are flexed and strained with the weight of him, and they’re all lean muscle. I cry out again.
My fingers are still working the sensitive bundle of nerves at my clit, and with the faster rhythm set, it’s easier for me to pick up the speed. Soon, I’m pounding my own fingers there, keeping up with Rob the best that I can, and it’s as if my whole body swells with it.
I can hear his breath finally pick up and it beats against my cheek as he struggles not to break the kiss. I’m getting closer, but I want to last as long as he does. I don’t want to come without him.
But he’s getting closer, too. I know it, because he drops our kiss to press his forehead to mine, his pacing growing jerky and uneven.
He tells me, “I’m gonna come… come with me…” and his voice is so heated that I melt under him.
“Yeah…”
My finger circles my clit faster and faster as his hips slam into mine. Suddenly, he lets out a guttural noise and his body thrusts into me and stays there. He pulls out a little, then thrusts back in with another low growl, and finally, my body catches up.
There’s a hot coil in the pit of my stomach that springs to life, causing my orgasm to come quickly, and it’s crashing around me and around Rob, sending us both over the precipice together.
His hips jerk every time he empties himself a little more, and finally, he stills on top of me. He kisses me once before he pulls out with a soft declaration. “You are incredible…”
He flops on his back and looks over at me, and I’m a little stunned in the quiet after the typhoon. I finally look over at him, and then… I laugh. And soon, I’m almost hysterical, and he joins in, laughing with me. We probably look like two complete morons, sweaty and naked and laughing like we’re insane.
But it settles, and I’ve got tears in my eyes from the motion of it all. “Holy shit,” I say, wiping them from the corners of my eyes. “Yeah, that was good.”
Rob snorts once, and opens up his arm for me to climb in. I do, and I snuggle into his body, my head on his chest, my shirt still pulled up over my breasts.