Hollywood Hot Mess (24 page)

As soon as my ass hits the floor he pushes his fingers so far inside me I scream and buck up off the floor. If I wasn’t so wet I would be writhing in pain instead of pleasure right now. After the initial shock it feels so heavenly I close my eyes and grind against him. So badly needing the release he just interrupted.

“You are mine!” he growls, shoving his fingers even farther. I nod my head. “Say it!” he growls, falling back over me and biting down on my lip once again.

“Argh!” is all I can manage. He’s taken my breath away. Again his fingers charge into me and I buck off the cold stone floor for release. Instead of relief, I impale my body further on his fingers.

“I’m yours!” I cry out in exquisite pain, breathy, writhing for relief, my vagina filled to the breaking point.

“And do you care what the queen says?”

“No!”

“Neither do I!” He snarls and licks my lip, massaging his teeth marks with his tongue.

He releases his hold on my vagina long enough to grip my waist and flip me over on my stomach.

My mouth goes Sahara dry.

I try to rise up on my hands and knees, but he stops me, pushing me back down to the frozen stone, pinning me beneath him. I can’t see anything but mint green and his silhouette against the megawatt stage lighting overhead. No crew, no camera, no movie set. No one but us. And it heightens the senses I still possess to a whole new level.

“Do you love me?” he growls into my ear. I momentarily lose focus, because this dialogue is not in the script. Devon is ad-libbing and I’m not sure how blurred these lines are. Am I loving Devon, or the king? Either way, my answer is the same.

“Yes,” I pant back.

One hand fists in my hair, the other slides down and grabs my waist. His body tenses and he slides into me from behind, his knee pinning my thigh far out to the side to give him room. Moving so slowly at first I thrust my hips back, needing him faster, needing him deeper. His hand pushes me to the floor, checking my eagerness, holding me still as he continues slowly pushing his way inside me. It’s the best kind of torture.

I cry out again when I think he has reached the top of me. But he doesn’t stop. It’s now obvious why he left his pants on. His knees dig into the cold stone floor, getting leverage and pushing even deeper. So deep it pushes another moan out of my throat, freeing the space for his girth.

I whimper when the warm, rock-hard flesh of his stomach muscles press into my ass. His own tuft of wiry hair tickles my backside, causing me to constrict around him. The simple squeeze sends spasms of pleasure radiating in every direction along the live wires of my body.

He pulls back just as slowly. My ass rising with him, hating to see it go. I grind my exposed cheeks in the air before him, signaling to him I want more. He chuckles so only we can hear and slides his hand over the curve of my bottom.

And then he finds his rhythm. Not too fast, not too slow. Just right.

It’s calm and soothing to my ravaged body, and so hypnotic I once again can think of nothing but him. His hand between my shoulders keeps my chest firmly on the ground. My cheek brushes along the red carpet. But the most delicious part is when my hardened nipples follow.

They grow hard and tight. Filled with blood and nerve endings and sending sultry sensations all over me. I bring a hand up and slide it under me. Squeezing the rosy pebbles as they writhe against the carpet. In no time they are raw and begging for release.

Just like the rest of me.

He picks up the pace and we climb that mountain again. Searching for our peaks together.

The next second soft green satin is flying through the air. Devon’s hands are on my hips and he’s slamming me into him as he tosses me to the side and up. Rolling our bodies without ever losing contact, so I now straddle him in reverse cowgirl. What. The. FUCK?!

I’m instantly stunned by the bright lights. But he coaxes my hips to keep the rhythm, moving me on top of him, pushing me away and then bringing me back down. My fingers still squeeze my nipple and I close my eyes, blocking the lights, focusing on Devon.

I decide it’s time to take it up a notch, grinding against him and squeezing my walls with each rise and fall. His body shudders and he lets out a moan of his own.

My hands fall from my breast and reach between my legs. One thumb’s over my clit, the other caresses his balls. He groans like I’ve twisted the vise in a medieval torture chamber.

He sits up, holding me against the heat of his chest, slicked with the effort of our love. Grabbing both my breasts and holding me tight we erupt together with intertwining, guttural roars that seem to shake the ancient stone floor.

Our bodies rock together like boats in a storm surge. Slick, wet, panting and throbbing as the raw flesh between our legs quivers with the aftershocks of what we’ve done.

“You are mine!” he whispers in my ear, sealing it with a kiss in the spot that drives me wild and thrusting his hips forward one more time to emphasize exactly what he’s claiming.

“All yours.” I tuck my head toward him, kissing my own shoulder, because I can’t kiss him from this angle.

I don’t have to see the faces behind the camera to know their expressions. Enough gasps and ohs and ahs slipped through the filter during that last take to tell me. But I don’t give a shit. I want everyone to know Devon is fucking me for real. Devon Hayes wants me. Me—poor little Carly Klein. Not his bitchy fake wife or any other nameless Hollywood hottie.

His dick is still in me when my assistant walks over to offer me a robe.

It’s then that I look down and notice my breasts have been bare since he flipped me over. Who gives a shit about tits when you’re fucking the king?

Chapter Twenty-Three

“What the fuck, Devon?” I was thrilled five seconds ago when he presented me with a going—away gift. Thinking it was another fabulous piece of jewelry, I eagerly ripped into the wrapping. A cold silver cylinder slid from the box and into my hand.

At first I thought it was a fancy cigar tube. But now I know exactly what it is. And I’m disgusted and confused by his gift.

Sadly,
The Mighty Fall
wrapped yesterday. Tomorrow we leave for L.A. Tonight, we’ve made love on set for the last time. My crotch is still raw from the earth-melting orgasm we just shared. Possibly getting caught made our loving deliciously fierce. The entire crew is downstairs at the wrap party. We managed to sneak away for one final romp in the king’s bed. It’s amazing the frame is still intact after all we’ve put it through.

We haven’t chanced anything other than on-screen love. Multiple reshoots have more than satisfied our desires. I’m pretty sure I’m getting to him. It only took a single naughty text to lure him away from the party and up to our favorite set one last time.

And now this?

“A fucking vibrator?” My eyes flare with rage. “This is my going-away gift?” I turn the silver tube over in my hand, sitting cross-legged in the sheets, unable to believe what he’s just given me. Devon’s lying back with his hands tucked under his head, looking very proud of himself.

“It’s not just a vibrator, Carly.” He leans over to pick up the box and shows me the logo. “It’s a Jimmyjane, limited edition, platinum and diamond vibrator.” He raises his eyebrows and smiles as if this means everything. He’s got to be kidding.

“Why would I need this? Your dick is so much better.” I smile and try to play along, holding the cold metal tube beside his penis to show him that his dick is bigger and better than a cold, buzzing pipe.

“Come on, Carly. You know we can’t carry on like this in L.A. It’s too dangerous.” His arms slide around my back and he pulls me onto his stomach, covering me in kisses.

“What do you mean, we can’t carry on like this? How in the hell are we supposed to stay away from each other until the second film starts shooting?” My heart sinks with the reality of what I know he’s saying. There’s just no way. We’ve been together almost every day. I’ve been so happy—and I know he has, too. Never in a million years did I think this wouldn’t continue when we got back to L.A. I mean, Heather’s fucking someone else. Why can’t he?

“We can still keep it up. We just can’t be together.” He takes the vibrator from my hand and slides it up my thigh. I slap it from his hand. It skids across the sheets. “I thought this would make phone sex better for you.” He looks up at me all hurt and bewildered, like I’ve just stolen his candy.

“Devon, I’m going to be five miles away from you when we get back to L.A. You would rather I fuck a vibrator than fuck you?” I hadn’t anticipated this. I thought by now he would be so addicted to me he would find a way for things to continue between us.

“Come on, Sunshine...” He’s certifiable if he thinks my pet name will calm me at a time like this. “It’s just a month. Just until the next film starts shooting.” I sit up to try to find a coherent thought. He leans forward, planting a kiss on my shoulder and running his hands through my hair. On the inside I’m seething mad, and want to slap his damn hands off me. How dare he treat me like this? Casting me aside when it’s no longer convenient for him. But I know I can’t lose it. I have to somehow keep the upper hand with him, and flying off the handle is not the way to do that.

“You were being thoughtful?” I pick the damn dildo up and stroke it seductively with my fingers, smiling at him sheepishly. His face goes all soft and smiley again and he plants another kiss on my neck, right under my ear—the spot he’s learned I love.

“I was only thinking of your pleasure.” Oh, how I’d longed to hear this man say words like this to me. He says them on a daily basis now, and he thinks he can just take that away from me? Ha! I’ll show him. He’s truly underestimated me. And I know if he’s going to find a way to make things work for us, I’m going to have to force him into it.

I can’t live a month without him. And the only chance I’ve got is to make him realize he can’t live a month without me either.

“So, you want me to fuck this while we’re on the phone?” I swing myself on top of him, straddling his legs so he can see me push the silver vibrator deep inside. It disappears and I throw my head back, moaning with fake delight. His breathing picks up as I play with myself. I hate to admit—it feels pretty damn good.

My little act works. His dick swells beneath the buzzing device after a few seconds and I smile as I bring my head back to look at him. It’s dim in the room. We couldn’t risk turning on any lights.

I pull the vibrator from me and slide it over his tongue as I pull his dick into me and sit down. My pink walls slowly meld down the massive length of his erection, lubricated by the vibrator’s foreplay. I grind with an agonizing snail’s pace against him, being sure he feels every inch of me. Good lord it feels amazing to have him fill me up like this.

Resistance is a quality Devon doesn’t possess. He grabs my hips, taking charge of the situation, rocking our bodies in a rhythm of his own. There’s just no way he could refuse me now. It’s not like he’s going home to a loving family. He’s going home Heather—a crazy bitch who flaunts her own lover in his face every day.
I’m
the one who loves him. Doesn’t he remember that I’m what he needs?

“You won’t get jealous that you aren’t fucking me? When I’m...so...close...” My voice is low and teasing, and I move my hips with the last words for emphasis. I let the double entendre hang in the air and moan with pleasure.

“I’m jealous of anything inside you. Even if I gave it to you.” His hands are tangling in my hair. He sits up and we wrap around one another, moving like our bodies are one. “You better not fuck anyone else, either,” he growls into my ear, and balls his fist so tightly in my hair I whimper in pain.

When he says this, I stop immediately. What the fuck? He can’t tell me what to do with my body. Not that I want anyone else, but if this is the only card I have...I’ll play it. I pull out of his embrace, slapping his hand out of my hair.

“Seriously? You think you get to tell me who I can and can’t fuck if you aren’t man enough for the job?” I grab his hair and tighten my fist so it hurts. He grins at my anger like it’s cute. It unnerves me.

“You’ve known this all along. Why are you so surprised?” He leans back on his hands, shrugging his shoulders and wrinkling his brow. He’s still inside me, and the thought of jerking his penis off and taking it with me crosses my mind. But I can’t, so it’s Plan B.

“Fuck you, Devon.” I leap off the bed. It hurts like hell to be pulled apart so quickly, but I’m pretty sure it hurts him more because he curls around himself on the bed, groaning and grabbing at his crotch. I grab my clothes and head for the door.

“Carly, wait!” he yells after me, but I don’t stop. I yank my dress over my head and slam the door behind me. Devon always needs to think our coming together is his idea. Well, I’ve got news for him. He may not realize it yet, but he can’t live without me any easier than I can live without him.

He’ll chase after me as soon as he gets his clothes on. He’s pissed off and dealing with some lethal blue balls after being interrupted in the middle of sex so good. I hate doing it, but how else will he see how much he needs me? What he’ll be missing if he doesn’t find a way to make this work on American soil? I found a way to make it work here. It’s his turn.

* * *

But he doesn’t come for me. I wait all night, smoking cigarettes and listening for a knock on the door or a text message.

Nothing. Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life?

He’s already gone when I check out of the hotel the next morning.

“Miss Klein, there’s a package for you,” the hotel clerk says as I sign for the room charges, which are mainly cigarettes. The cigarettes I have told this same clerk I was certainly not smoking in my room.

Immediately I know it’s Devon’s gift. He’s such an ass
.
What the hell is this supposed to mean? Doesn’t even tell me goodbye, but leaves me this damn thing? For a moment I think about throwing it in the trash. But I don’t. I remember how amazing it felt last night, and I’m afraid I’m going to need something to get me through the sex withdrawal since Devon obviously isn’t planning on being around.