Captive Films: Season One (23 page)

He moves me up and down on top of him, faster and harder, giving me a frenzied burst of thrusting that causes my insides to tighten.
 

We’re both vocalizing our pleasure, when he shudders and gets suddenly still, leaning his head into my chest.
 

As he exhales, I caress his back, run my fingers through his hair, and kiss his temple.

Tears spring to my eyes as emotions run through me.

And I have no idea why.

This was supposed to be a hot fantasy fuck.
 

“Are those tears?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because no one has made me feel this way for a long time.” I say, admitting the truth and suddenly feeling very naked.
 

“No one has made me feel this way for a long time either,” he says.
 

“I liked your fantasy,” I tell him with a smile, trying to lighten things up. “Do you have any more?”

“You were the object of almost every fantasy I’ve had since the day I met you,” he says, which tugs at my heartstrings even more.
 

“I should have looked you up when I was in New York,” I say, suddenly wondering why I didn’t and wondering how different my life might have been if I had.

“Yeah, you should have. Let’s have some champagne, eat something, and if you’re good, I’ll show you some more of them. I’m assuming we’re not going to the event.”

I shake my head. “Nah.”

“Is there even an event?” he laughs.
 

“Yes, there is, but I gave away our tickets.”

“So you planned this?” he teases, handing me his white shirt to put on.
 

I can’t help but smile. “Well, I planned to show up like I did, but I didn’t know if you’d be interested.”

He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. “I’d be a fool not to be interested. Tell me about the coat.”

“The coat?” I ask.
 

“Yeah, why the fur and not a trench coat? It’s hot out.”

“It’s soft?” I say, tentatively.

“And—?”

“Fine, it’s possible that I hate this coat. But it’s so incredibly beautiful. And I wanted to look nice for you tonight.”

“Vanessa, I love that you wanted to impress me, but I’m already impressed. I think you’re beautiful. Why do you hate the coat?”

“My ex bought it for me after he cheated on me.”

“He was trying to win you back?”

“Yes.”

He gives me a sweet kiss and touches the fur. “It’s my new mission to make this your favorite thing.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“We’re not done with the fur,” he says in a way that sounds almost like a threat to both my fur and my ex.

 
He leads me to the kitchen, where he grabs a tray of fruit, cheese, and nuts out of the fridge and opens the champagne.

“Are you expecting company?”

He laughs. “No, it’s a welcome gift. Keatyn thinks of everything.”

“Actually, Tyler thinks of everything.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to thank him then.” He hands me a flute and says, “To luxury spending.”

“And to fur,” I say with a laugh and take a sip. The bubbles go straight to my nose and cause me to sneeze.
 

“Bless you,” he says.
 

“Thanks.”

He picks a grape off the tray and feeds it to me.
 

I’m shocked by how natural it feels. How it doesn’t feel like I’m submitting, but rather he’s taking care of me.
 

And for a woman who’s trying hard to hold everything together, it’s really, really nice.
 

“So, um,” he says, “we’ve done it twice now without a condom. I keep meaning to ask, and I know it’s not very responsible of me, but . . .”

“I can’t get pregnant,” I admit.
 

“Why not?”

“Well, after I lost my baby—”

“Wait, what? When did that happen?”

“A few years ago. I was pregnant and miscarried at about four months.”

He moves quickly around the island and wraps me in his arms. “That must have been horrible for you.”

“It was. And I don’t know what all went wrong, but they told me I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant again.”

“I’m sorry. Your husband must have been crushed.”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“Didn’t he want children?”

I take a gulp of champagne. Why the hell am I talking about this? I don’t talk about it to anyone.
 

Not even Keatyn knows the details of how it all went down.

“I, um, it’s not something I want to discuss.”

He nods, while studying my eyes. “I understand. But, Vanessa, just so you know, you can tell me anything.”

“Does that go for you too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why haven’t you worked for the last two years?”

“My wife left.” He pauses for a moment, seeming to reconsider his words. “Actually, that’s not exactly right. My wife, um, she died.”

My eyes get huge and I feel horrible for prying, especially when I see tears shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrible for you.”

“It was. That’s why I stopped last night. It’s not because I didn’t want you. I just, well, you’re the first woman since . . .” His voice trails off.
 

And I’m thinking no fucking way. He hasn’t been with anyone since she died? Two years ago? Oh, god, no. Please tell me he went out and got laid like I did after Bam. I just wanted to be fucked.
 

But I don’t want that with Dawson, because I want . . . I want . . . Ohmigawd. I want him to love me. I don’t want to be the girl he fucks to get over his dead wife.

“Since, uh, when?”
Please say since you’ve been in California.

“Since she died.”

Shit. I’m so fucked.

Thursday, October 2nd

Four Seasons Hotel - Las Vegas

RILEY

“Riley, you’re drunk. I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jennifer says, trying to get away from me.

I give her my sexy grin and pull her back onto my lap. “You were grinding on me all night and gave me a lap dance in the club. Got me hot.”

“I’m sorry. I was just dancing.”

“On my dick.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I was a little drunk and dancing in a totally fun but inappropriate way.”

I slide my hands up her shirt. “I like inappropriate.”

She pushes my hands down. “Riley, you’re drunk.”

“So?”
 

“I don’t want to have sex with you when you’re drunk. We’re going to be working together. I don’t want to mess up our business relationship.”

“Fine, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me. I have a contract.”

“Dallas always gives me a way out.”

She frowns, gets up, and walks toward the huge bank of windows overlooking the strip.
 

I follow her. My horny thoughts conjuring up visions of fucking her from behind while we both look out at the lights. That would be a beautiful shot in a movie, actually.
 

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her ass against my hardness. “I was just thinking. . .”

“Just stop it, Riley,” she cries.
 

And it hits me that she’s actually crying.

This sobers me up.
 

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“Yes, you jerk, I’m crying. I like you. And you’re ruining it. If sex is all you want—if you aren’t interested in me, or in being friends—then just get the fuck out of here, call Dallas, and get me fired.”

I start to feel nauseous.
 

“Uh, excuse me,” I say, but I only get as far as the ice bucket before throwing up.
 

“Gross,” she says, coming to help me. “I’ll call down for some coffee.”

I throw up again and then shake my head. “Make it a nice greasy cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.”

“That sounds good,” she says, taking the ice bucket away from me and handing me a larger version, one that held the magnum of champagne we drank to pre-party.

I hear her ordering room service and slide to the floor with the bucket, praying I didn’t just screw everything up.

Dawson’s beach house - Malibu

DAWSON

My heart goes out to Vanessa for not only having a miscarriage, but also for not being able to get pregnant again. I can tell it’s something that hurts her deeply, and I’m pretty sure, based on the little she said, that her husband wasn’t supportive.
 

Whether or not I was a supportive husband is a question that has gone through my head a million times over the last two years.
Was I a good husband? Is it my fault Whitney’s dead? Did she know I wouldn’t stand by her?

It’s weird how you can look back on your life and so clearly see all the mistakes you made. If you knew then what you know now, how would your life be different? Or would it be? For example, would I have used the condoms Whitney gave me when we had sex or used my own?

I was going to tell Vanessa about my daughters tonight. But, after her admission, I’m thinking now’s not the right time.
 

Plus, she’s wearing nothing but my shirt.
 

I glance at the fur coat she showed up in. I need to come up with a few more ways to make her love that coat. To make her think of me every time she sees it. Because for the first time in a very long time, I feel like maybe things are turning around for me. That everything I’ve been through, from Whitney getting pregnant to the aftermath of her death, is over. My brothers were right. It’s time for me to put the past behind me and start living again.
 

It’s dark outside and although I’m more than ready to fuck her again, I don’t want it to be just sex with us.

“Do you want me to open another bottle of champagne or would you prefer something else?”

“You got any good scotch?” she says to me with a grin.
 

I grab two lowballs from a cabinet, drop a couple ice cubes in, and pour us each a drink.
 

“Would you mind carrying these?” I ask, handing them to her while I grab the fur.
 

“Where are we going?”

I don’t answer, just give her a directional nod.
 

“Is that the way to the bedroom?” she asks.
 

“Sorta,” I say, leading her through the master bedroom, bathroom, and then out a side door.
 

“Wow,” she says, echoing my own thoughts when I first saw the little Zen courtyard. “This is so pretty. It must be for meditating and doing yoga.”

“And relaxing,” I say, turning her toward the round daybed tucked into the corner.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” she says, taking in the daybed which looks like something you would find at an exotic resort. It’s layered with red cushions and pillows and has a pointed wicker top. There are even curtains for privacy.
 

I set our drinks on a wicker cocktail table next to it, lie down, and snuggle her into my chest, using the fur as a blanket.

“I feel like a genie in a bottle,” she says, looking around and laughing.

“Does that mean I get to rub you and make three wishes?” I ask.

She quickly stops laughing, her breath seemingly taken away by my question. “What would you wish for?” she whispers.

“Love,” I say softly.

“I want love too. Big love. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Like Keatyn and Aiden?”

“Yes. The kind of love that can’t be torn apart. The kind of love that heals and inspires. The kind of love that lasts forever. What else would you wish for?”

“Happiness and forgiveness.”