Hollywood Lies (5 page)

I gently glide my index finger over my swollen clit. “What makes you think you can make me come,
Vincent
?”

He obviously doesn’t want to play anymore and lost his shyness because he takes two giant steps to me and says, “Shut up and let me show you.”

I love the new confidence in his voice, but I love the wet heat of his tongue even more.
 

He flattens it against the throbbing length of my pussy, then rakes it across until the end of his tongue flicks my clitoris hard. Vincent licks at me greedily which causes the muscles in my legs to tighten and twitch. The prickling heat spreads from the core of me down to the tips of my toes. Blood rushes through my veins, thrumming inside of me until I can only hear the beating of my heart and his lapping tongue.

I can’t stop my moans, and don’t want to, as he slides one long finger into me. He bends it just right to press against that powerful spot that makes my toes and fingers curl. My head presses back into the cushions of the couch. I bring my hips closer to him and use my legs to manipulate his body.

Vincent pumps his finger in and out of me, only stopping to add another, and increases the tempo.

“More,” I beg, but he doesn’t give it to me. He keeps his speed even until my thighs tighten again around his head, and I rise farther off the sofa.
 

Sensation comes at me from all directions, somehow blasting me from within and showering me from outside my body. I yell out as I come. When I can open my eyes and focus, I give him a smirk.

Vincent exaggeratedly sucks his wet fingers.
 

“I wanted more of those,” I say.

“And I want you tight. Didn’t want to stretch you out too much.” He stands up, which brings his dick right in front of my face.

“I don’t think it would have mattered much with how big that thing is,” I say, nodding to his mammoth cock. I’m still catching my breath when I lick my lips and reach out for him. With a solid hold on his cock, I flick my tongue over the head. “Like that?” I look up, the tip of his prick still resting on my bottom lip.

His dick jumps in response and he says, “Yeah.”

“Want me to do it again?”

“Yes, please.”

I want to make him beg for it further, but the hunger in his eyes is enough. His hips buck toward me, and the tip nudges into my mouth. First, I only suck the large head while I use my hand to stroke him.

“Fuck, baby . . . yeah,” he grunts out.
 

His hands drop almost possessively to my shoulders, and I tense for a second. Security is right outside. I’m safe. This is a situation of my own making.
This guy isn’t trying to hurt me; he’s just into it.

With a calming breath, I relax.

Vincent’s cock is too large for me to take all the way down, so I take him as far as I can. The head bumps the back of my throat, and I move my mouth to suck only on the underside of his shaft while stroking and gently twisting the head with one hand. I use the fingers on my other hand to tickle his balls.

When his hands tighten on my shoulders and his moans grow louder, I stop and stand up. “Not so fast. You don’t get to come yet. I want to know what that fat fucking cock of yours feels like when you shove it inside me.”

I toss a package I’ve stashed in the couch to him, then turn and bend over the couch.
 

Vincent wastes no time rolling the condom down onto his shaft. The head nudges open my pussy, and he slowly drives into me. He feels fantastic inside of me, filling me completely, and he pulls out just as slowly.

But I push my hips back against him roughly. “No. Go fast. Fuck me hard,” I demand. “Try to break me.”

With a sharp smack to my ass, Vincent gives me what I want. His grip tightens on my hips as he brings me back against him. The sound our bodies make as they come together echoes through the penthouse. Over and over again we slap together, not violent, but hard. My breathing hollows as the measure of his thrusts increase. I can’t help but cry out. I dig my fingers into the sofa; I strain my arms to hold me up. I stand on the very tips of my toes to perfect the angle of his thrusts.

He—I forget his name already—wraps his strong arm around my waist, which limits both our movements. I hang like a rag doll as he continues to manipulate my body while rocking his hips. His cock is buried deep within me now, filling me. I move my legs to wrap snake-like around his waist to seal our connection. My whole body stiffens when we find the right angle of penetration.

I grasp behind me and lock my hands around his forearms.
 

“You like this, baby?” he asks.

I can only nod and respond with a moan. My body is burning, and the sensation of pleasure is near the point of bursting. When he suddenly releases me, I fall back down onto the sofa. With my knees on the floor, and my head and torso on the cushions, I gasp as he aggressively enters me again. I had gotten used to him, but this new position makes it feel like he grew bigger. I feel stretched farther than before.

He fucks me even faster now, his own grunts overpowering my moans. He says things to me, dirty things, but I only hear the sound his voice makes. I move my fingers quickly over my clitoris. I’m lost in the pure feeling of bliss. If there is a nirvana somewhere out there in the great ether, I’m sure it feels just like this. My toes curl, my abdomen tightens, my limbs shake, and hot, prickling heat shoots out from my base chakra.
 

He slams his hips into me harder, faster, and he holds me so tightly I know I’ll have bruises. As my orgasm subsides, I could completely ignore his need to come, but I’m not a bitch like that, so I turn my efforts to get him off by rocking my hips back and forth to the time of his thrusts. I reach down between my legs again, but this time I use the tips of my fingers to brush the underside of his balls every time they come forward to slap against me.

“Fuck!” he says and spills into the condom as he comes.
 

My body feels loose and fatigued when he pulls out, and for a moment, I just lie there with my face buried in the soft cushion.
 

Delicious silence. Total stillness. Complete contentment.

It isn’t until his heavy hand sweeps down over my back when the moment breaks.

I sit back on my heels.
 

“You okay?” he asks.

I give him a smile. “Fantastic. What’s your name again?”

His eyebrows furrow and he chews on his bottom lip. “Vincent.” He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again without a word.
 

I take his hand and lift myself up. It has taken me a long time to realize this, but I’ve found that many men like to be soothed after sex. Little touches reassure them that I’ve had a marvelous time and like what just happened, but since Vincent will never be anything more than some guy I had sex with, I forgo the overly sappy, lovey-dovey bullshit. I decide to be sensual and fun instead.

I pull away and let just the tips of my fingers trail down his body.
 

His muscles twitch as his flesh rises in response. An involuntary shiver visibly courses its way down him.

I laugh. “Ticklish?”

“No,” he denies, but his upturned mouth tells me otherwise.

Playful now, I reach to tickle the sides of his torso.

He catches my wrists and keeps me from it. “So, um . . .” he begins, but trails off and darts his eyes to the door.

“You ready to call it a night?” I twist my hand out of his grasp. I bring it to his softened cock, and it jumps against my palm. I get close to him again and attach my mouth to his nipple as I gently knead his dick back to semi-hardness.
 

When I’m satisfied by his body’s response, I pull away and walk backward a few steps. “I have the most amazing shower in the world. Two overhead spigots, and a line of five jets shooting out from each wall.”

He takes a step toward me and allows me to take his hand.
 

“Want to go clean up so we can get dirty again?” I tug him toward the bathroom, but his feet stay planted. “What is it?”

Vincent’s eyes are cast down as he says, “Well, that’s what I want to ask you. What . . . I mean . . .”
 

When he looks up, I look away. This is the part I hate; the part that might destroy the whole evening. Not every guy asks the question, some already know, but then there are the guys like Vincent, a little more sensitive than others, a little too quick to let their dicks trick their minds into believing that sex is the beginning of love or a relationship.

I give him a little shake of my head and tighten my fingers on his. “I’m sure you’re an awesome guy, worthy of someone’s investment, but I don’t do relationships. When I do, they go to shit.”

His tongue moves out to run over his bottom lip. After a moment, I tug on him again, and he nods. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

“This is just sex.”

When our eyes connect, I shake my head and smile a bit. “This isn’t just sex; this is the height of bodily awareness. It’s an all-night exercise in worshipping each other in a way that is ancient and primal. There is no better way for two people to connect; to share. We’re contributing to each other’s supply of peace, calm, and harmony.”

He laughs, the sound of it lightening my mood. “Damn, you’re a good actress, ‘cause that was a bunch of bull.”

“Come shower with me,” I whisper. This time, when I tug, he follows.
 

I adjust my sunglasses, then pick up my cup of mocha from the table. Something about sitting outside at this little café makes me uncomfortable, though I know it’s good for me to be outside. I’m not agoraphobic, but being out in the open isn’t something I do much.

Whenever I meet my friend, Jesse, he picks the venue, and it’s almost always outside.
 

We live in one of the best climates in the world, girl! Why sit around inside where no one can witness our fabulousness?
he said once.

He doesn’t carry the same burden of celebrity and fame as I do, even though he is an accomplished musician. In fact, he is my oldest friend since I met him back on the child dog and pony tour, otherwise known as the child musical phenom circuit. We played several concerts together, me on the piano and him on the violin.
 

Jesse is also an established documentarian. He was probably born with a camera attached to his hand. Indeed, he documented my recovery after what happened with Rodney Douglas years ago. While he promised he wasn’t going to sell it, when I was healthy and he showed me the edited footage, I couldn’t let him waste it, so I gave him permission to sell it if he wanted to. He still works on it in between other projects, though. I think he’s dragging his heels to see if I do anything else interesting enough to earn a place in the documentary. Honestly, it’s probably something he won’t sell until he feels it’s good and ready, and he won’t sell it to just any gossip show. He thinks of it as art.

“Look at you! Outside in full view of the shutterbugs!”

I turn at Jesse’s voice, stand to embrace him, then whisper in his ear. “This is going to make all the magazines.”

“Won’t that make Terell jealous?”

I should’ve known he would have that reaction. As we sit down, I ask about his boyfriend. “How is Terell?”

“Talented, intellectual, spiritual, enthusiastic, sexy.”

How could I not laugh at that?
 

“So what about you, Colebaby? You okay?”

His question sobers me up quickly. I think about my failed interview yesterday and the sex with the guy from the club last night. I don’t even remember his name now. “Lonely.”

“So when are you going to let yourself get another boyfriend? And by that, I’m asking when are you going to have someone around for more than your carnal desires.”

“Carnal desires?” I take a sip of my mocha. “You’re so dramatic, Jesse. It’s sex; it’s not a clandestine, torrid affair.”

“You mean a series of affairs, and don’t kid yourself, they’re torrid. I can’t imagine anything with you being tame.”

I shift to my left and find about fifty photographers jockeying for a better position to shoot from across the busy street. “You make me sound like a dirty whore. Thanks.”