Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story (10 page)

I was profoundly sorry for what had happened – how I’d handled the entire situation from start to finish – but apologies alone would never heal those wounds. I’d have show her – not with words but with my deeds – that the past month had only been a blip in what I hoped would be a long, wonderful life together.

I worshipped her breasts like the blessed gifts they were – nipped and laved and sucked and nuzzled – and eventually Sarah’s body eased back into a state of aroused anticipation. Kneading, stroking, and suckling each of her perfect tits in a steady onslaught meant to reduce her to a pool of want and need, I stopped thinking about what I could have done differently, and focused my energy on the warm, willing body beneath me now and all the dirty, hot, sexy things I wanted to do to it. 

Only once Sarah began panting and her skin glistened with the sheen of her desire did I move on. I loved how perfectly responsive to my touch her tits were and wondered if I could make her come without touching her anywhere else. Given the current state of her desire, I thought it entirely possible. I’d have to give it a thorough effort sometime in the future. Not now though. Right now I wanted my dick inside of her.

Licking and kissing my way back up her chest, I traced my tongue over the seam of her lips and when she parted them on a sigh, I captured her mouth in a kiss meant to convey everything I felt for her with only our mouths.

I breathed out her name on a reverential sigh and dragged the tips of my fingers lightly down her face. “I want you so much, more than you can ever know.”

Her eyes flicked between mine, questioning, and when I silently begged her to let me love her the way I needed to, she nodded, gave me permission to sink inside her warmth. With a look of devotion in my eyes and so much love in my heart, I guided my thick, heavy cock inch by incredible inch into and back out of the warm, honeyed cleft between her legs. I took my time making love to her as each slow and measured thrust of my cock entered her in time with my heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

Our eyes never wavered. I wanted to tell her with my soul, if not with words, what she meant to me, how much I loved her. How no amount of fame or fortune could ever complete me the way she did. How I never wanted to her her go and that I would die a happy man if only she never left my side. How I wanted to be inside of her forever. I said none of that though. Instead I let my body say it all.

After several long moments, the pace of my strokes increased and Sarah thrashed beneath me. Her hips rose and met each of my driving thrusts as our bodies thundered against each other, a give and take, gasoline and flame. Hot breaths tore from her lungs in punctuated gasps that told me she was close to coming. As I rocked inside her, over and over, she writhed with need and I waited for her orgasm to come, for her to shatter in my arms.

When she cried out below me, a soft mewling sound of content, a fiery crescendo swept over my body – straight from my balls, up my spine, and out my mouth in a groan of ecstasy. My body stretched taut and my neck, corded with muscle, strained as I thrust one last time. I shuddered and convulsed and in that moment of abandon, Sarah joined me, her pussy clenching tight around me, as pulsating waves of pleasure rocked me to my core.

The most exquisite orgasm of my life left me feeling boneless. We lay connected for several long moments and Sarah dozed off again, exhausted from our lovemaking. Just before sleep claimed her, I canted up on my elbows and kissed the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared back at me. I’d swear I knew her eyes better even than I knew my own. As my gaze greedily took her in, I couldn’t remember having ever been this happy. I kissed her again, a soft, lazy mating of our lips, and when I pulled back tears shimmered in those lovely green orbs.

“What?” I whispered, afraid to break the spell of our lovemaking.

“It’s too much. I don’t know how to process it.”

I knew exactly what she meant. The things I felt for her were more than I knew how to handle. “I know, me too.” 

My gaze wandered lovingly over her face before making its way back to her eyes and holding them. Her stare bore into me and it felt like she could read my soul. Eventually she blinked on a happy exhalation, breaking the connection.

“You’ll never know how much you mean to me.” Her words fluttered between us as a whisper soft caress.

Her eyes closed, I took my fill of her lovely face – auburn brows slashing across her alabaster forehead, her little sprite’s nose, a smattering of adorable freckles, soft, full lips meant for kissing, a defiant chin. Each part of her was perfectly unique, but she was the sum of these parts and simply put, she was the loveliest creature I’d ever seen. But it wasn’t just her looks. Beneath those tits I loved so much, beat a heart of gold. A heart I wanted to be mine forever.

She must have sensed I’d been staring for too long because she slanted one eye open.  “What?” she asked, using her forearms to lever herself up to kiss me, a playful joining of our lips a contrast to the passion of our previous one.

Damn it, but I wanted her again, so fucking bad, so I took control of the kiss and gently sucked her bottom lip into my mouth, suckling it. She moaned and her body shuddered when I released her lip on a pop. I parted her mouth with my tongue and feasted on her until she collapsed back onto the bed, her arms going out from under her. My cock, still sheathed inside her, twitch once, then twice, and that infinitesimal movement sent spasms of pleasure coursing through her body. Eventually, I slowed our kiss and eased my lips away from her mouth. She mewled in despair.

“Hush,” I admonished, and a lazy, satiated grin split her face.

“The last time you said that, you did evil, wonderful things to me. Things that have left me a boneless pile of nothingness. I don’t know if I can go again.”

I ground my pelvis against her, my erection buried deep inside of her. I moved against her, the friction of her swollen, slippery softness an exquisite form of torture. Even though she claimed to be too tired for anything more, I knew if I kept the slow, steady movement up I could have her coming apart again in mere seconds.

Sarah shook her head back and forth, and laughingly begged me to stop, to spare her. Her words told me she’d had enough, while the slick wetness of her excitement as she raised her hips to meet mine said otherwise.

“Yes?” I asked, the tip of my cock poised at her entrance, teasing her. I took it in hand, and rubbed it against her clit and she trembled. “Tell me you want my cock deep inside of you.”

Her eyes twinkled up at me. “I dunno.” She bit her lip and played the coquette while I caressed her with my dick.

“Are you sure? Because I think you do.” I entered her, just enough to torment her and flexed my hips.

Her breathing intensified and her eyes went glassy.

“Tell me you want this cock in your dripping pussy.” I pulled back out and rubbed the head over her pussy, making sure to come close to but never quite touch her aching clit.  “All you have to do is say the word and it’s yours.”

Her hips bucked and her nails dug into my back. “Please,” she begged.

“Say it.”

“Cameron …”

“Say you want my cock Sarah.”

When she screamed out “Oh Christ, I want that perfect, delicious, fucking amazing cock deep in my pussy!” I plunged into the slippery heat of her and lost myself.

“Oh god Cameron. I’m going to come!”

Before she did though, I pulled nearly all the way out her and then in one fluid motion glided back in and upward, thrusting deep to hit her g-spot. All at once she broke apart and uncontrollable, shuddering contractions wracked her body.

“I want you to come with me when I come.” I buried my face in the crook of her neck and sucked, bit, and laved, my cock slinking in and out of her plush heat.

“I can’t take any more,” she whispered as I felt the evidence of her last orgasm coat me from root to tip.

“Yes you can.” I ground my pelvis against her sensitive clit. “Come with me Sarah.”

Dazed with an intoxicating combination of exhaustion and a pleasure I knew bordered on pain, her next orgasm hit, throwing her over the edge and she sobbed as her body trembled beneath me. “My body … my heart …” she choked out between ragged breaths, “It’s not my own anymore. You own me, completely.”

She was wrong.
She
owned me.

With a powerful, driving thrust my balls contracted and my vision blurred as I joined her with an explosion of release that tore me apart and knitted me back together again. In a moment of blinding clarity, I knew I’d give up everything I had, everything to come, if it meant I could be with her always.

One heartbeat, ten, maybe a million beats later, she opened her eyes and her kiss-swollen lips tipped up in an exhausted smile and I saw my future in her eyes. In the span of an instant I witnessed us growing old side by side, her name the last word on my lips before I departed this earth, and I wanted that more than anything I’d ever wanted before in my life.

“Marry me Sarah,” I choked out before burying my head in the crook of her neck.

From the first moment I realized I was in love with Sarah Travers, my best friend and the best person I’d ever known, I’d imagined the moment I’d ask her to marry me. After picking up the ring from my parents, I’d planned all manner of proposals in my head, but none of them had ever looked like this. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to regret how I’d done it, I hoped I hadn’t just made the most colossal mistake yet.

His words hit me like
a two-ton truck, a crash that obliterated my defenses. Marry him? He couldn’t be serious. And yet …why not?

Other marriages – even a number of
successful
marriages – had been built on less. Hell, if this were Regency England we’d have been betrothed after knowing each other only a couple of weeks, and that was only if we were lucky. And we certainly wouldn’t have been able to do what we’d just done, repeatedly, in an effort to determine if we suited. Safe to say, there was
no
question of our physical compatibility. Rarely did reality live up to fantasy, but in our case, reality had to be even better.

In my experience, sex was rarely, if ever, this good. I’d lost my virginity at 18 to my high school boyfriend (prom night, how cliché) in what had proven to be a whole lot of anticipation and not a lot of exhilaration, and in the ensuing 15 years I’d had only two or three lovers who’d made my toes curl. What Cameron and I had though? That was some next level shit.

If I had to say what made it different with him, it was the fact that I was wholly invested. It sounded trite, but it wasn’t just sex with Cameron. It was making love. Pure, unadulterated love. Sure I could demand he take me harder and he could use all sorts of dirty language to turn me on, but when it was like it’d just been? We’d made love with our hearts as well as our bodies. Don’t get me wrong, not every we came together was some special special snowflake, transcendent experience where our hearts, minds, and souls united in harmony. There had been some down and dirty fucking thrown in for good measure, but when he gazed at me with wonder and awe while our bodies were joined, I knew to the depths of my soul that what we had together
was
some special snowflake shit. That it mattered. That it was the foundation something greater would be built upon.

But marry him? Could I? Things were happening so damn fast and a part of me felt like we needed to slow down, take a minute. Only days ago, I’d thought our friendship over for good and now I was contemplating the reality of becoming his wife. Not that I hadn’t dreamed about it in the hidden recesses of my heart, but that was the stuff of fantasy. This wasn’t make believe. His proposal hadn’t been something he’d thrown out in the heat of the moment because I’d overwhelmed him with my magical vagina. The feelings behind it had been real. I knew that, because I knew him. But still …

“Say something, please,” he begged and I realized several moments had passed since he’d changed everything between us – again. I’d been rattling around in my head, his words crashing around my skull, my thoughts coming a mile a minute as I tried to work through whether or not I could actually do it, say the words he wanted to hear, and meanwhile he’d been waiting for my answer. Terrified at what I’d say, I could tell, by the fact that he was even now trembling in my arms.

I wrapped my arms around him and crushed him to me tightly. I didn’t want to say no, I knew that much for certain, but I also didn’t know if I could say yes.

We had a long established friendship; that much was true. Way more than friendship, actually. Cameron was everything to me. And I’d known that well before those shots of tequila had tipped my world on its axis. I had loved him in secret for so long that I’d begun to think of our friendship differently. To think of
him
differently. Tonight had turned that thinking on its head once again and I was feeling spun out of control.

Once we’d decided to give our relationship a shot, I assumed at some point we would sit down and discuss the future, how we’d transition our relationship from friends to lovers. There were legitimate issues to sort through, details that needed to be hammered out, not the least of which was the other major change in Cameron’s life – being cast in Broderick’s movie. And yet that hadn’t happened.

Okay, so I’d thought about this way too much – sue me – but there hadn’t been a day in the past year where I hadn’t wondered what it would be like to be with him. And yeah, I’d concocted this fantasy narrative where we’d be so sickeningly perfect together that other couples would hate us. I’d be wonderfully devoted to him and everything between us would be just terrific. Because when you’re building up your fantasy life? There was no room for the unpleasant truths of reality. Namely, being with a man in Cameron’s position actually came with a whole lot of challenges. I’d watched women throw themselves at him when they had no idea who he was. Add legitimate fame and star power on top of his looks and it’d be a million times worse. And being married to all that? Well, that’d probably harder than anything I’d experienced in life thus far. We’d face pressure other couples couldn’t imagine. No part of my secret daydream had ever taken into account Cameron being a bonafide movie star.

I’d already experienced first-hand what the entertainment press and gossip bloggers – not to mention the rabid fandom! – were like where his relationships were concerned. There was no forgetting they’d already had him paired off with the most beautiful of friends and that they’d basically already written the narrative they wanted without having ever heard him speak about his private life. Which reminded me, I still had to deal with the whole PR fiasco come Monday.

Could I let my fear of what the gossip machine would say about Cameron and me influence my decision? I didn’t want it to and yet … I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified of how they’d paint me. My earlier words to Cameron flitted through my mind: men who look like him didn’t fall in love with women who looked like me, especially not in Hollywood where a female’s currency was defined by her measurements. I knew the first time I saw a picture of us labeled “Cameron Scott and friend” I’d go ape shit. Or, even worse, when I was relegated to that horrible caption, “Cameron Scott and unidentified female.”

If I remained Cameron’s girlfriend, the likely truth was I would
always
be consigned to the background of his public persona. As his wife though? They would be forced to acknowledge me. Even if the photos were only ever labeled “Cameron Scott and wife” I’d exist in that world. They couldn’t push me into the shadows then. It angered me to no end that a smart, funny, loyal, woman like me would always be viewed as less than. Any man would be lucky to have me. I knew this, and yet the devil on my shoulder told me other people wouldn’t think so.

I went from resigned to my fate to indignant in the flash of a nanosecond. So what if I didn’t live up to Hollywood’s ideal of beauty? Cameron saw me for who I was and he loved me for it. I was not going to let someone else’s standard of beauty, love, or anything else I didn’t agree with keep me from fighting for the one thing I wanted most – Cameron.

I took a deep breath and let the surety of my decision wash over me, push away any and all doubts. Settle in my head and my heart.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Cameron pushed up onto his forearms and stared down at me. I saw surprise flash in his eyes.

“Yes,” I repeated, a stupid happy smile stretching across my face.

Cameron’s smile echoed my own and when he grabbed my hands and brought them to his lips, he winced. We’d been so careful the past couple of days with his hand, that this was the first time he’d been in pain since early yesterday afternoon.

“Will you promise you’ll get that looked at tomorrow?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Cameron laughed, launching himself from the bed and digging his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. His thumbs flew over the keyboard and he continued chuckling to himself. The
click, clack, click
of the virtual keyboard sounded as he typed, and I wondered what he was saying and to who. Before I could ask, the
whoosh
of a message being sent echoed in the room and then the
beep, beep, beep
on my phone signaled I’d received a new text message.

I raised my eyebrow, a silent question, and he laughed again. Crawling his way toward me on the bed, his eyes sparked with mischief and I had to laugh back. I’d always thought Cameron a happy person, but in the minutes since I’d agreed to marry him, that happiness had become a pulsing, living thing. He was joyful and carefree in a way I was surprised to realize I hadn’t seen in many, many months. Had the secret of his love for me weighed as heavily on him as mine had on me? Was that why over the past few months he’d seemed a dimmer version of his best self?

He nudged me into the pillows at my bad and straddled me, his chest hovering over my face. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to lick the muscled expanse of skin before me, to bite and suckle it as I wanted to. I grinned as a memory from last summer popped into my head. Knowing my secret was safe with her, I’d confided to a work friend who’d come to one of my barbeques that I wanted to lick Cameron from head to toe. She’d taken one look at him, ran her eyes up and down his body, and had said, “Yup, I can see that.” How was it that I could do that now, whenever I wanted? It was like I’d won the Beautiful Man Lottery.

Before I could put my plans of licking him to distraction into play, Cameron grabbed my phone off of the bedside table and dropped back on his haunches as he typed in my four-digit passcode and handed it to me.

I took it, asking, “Wait, you know my secret code?”

He shrugged. “Of course. You know mine too.”

“Yeah, but yours is easy. 1-1-1-1 isn’t exactly quantum physics.”

“Neither is your birthday.” He had me there. “You have a message,” he nodded to the device in my hand.

I hit the green icon and saw a new message where the “to” field had been populated with the names and numbers of several of our friends. Below was a selfie I’d taken four months ago, me smiling cheerfully at the camera while Cameron’s lips rested playfully on my cheek in a quick, stolen kiss.

Despite the few – okay, let’s be real, the many – beers I’d consumed that afternoon, I recalled the moment the photo had been taken perfectly. A bunch of us were horsing around in James and Charlie’s backyard, waiting for him to finish cooking the steaks on the grill. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and it was a glorious Saturday afternoon in Southern California.

While my friends laughed, talked, and bantered amongst themselves, I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures. After about twenty snaps of couples, friends, groups of friends, I went to put my phone away when Cameron trotted over to complain that I hadn’t taken a picture of us. Frankly, I’d been surprised he’d noticed.

I’d been trying to keep my distance from him because I wasn’t doing too well dealing with my unrequited love. If we were out in a group, I could manage, just barely, but I got through it. But when he started paying too much attention to me or singled me out, I worried I’d say or do something that would give my feelings away. So I’d had done my best to avoid those situations and thought I’d done a good job abstaining from one-on-one time with him until he sauntered over and demanded I take the picture. Avoiding taking the photo after he’d asked me to would have put too much scrutiny on my reasons for dodging him all day and that was scrutiny I didn’t think I could hold up under.

So I wrapped my arm around him to pull him in close, our heads nearly touching, and told him to smile on the count of three. Just as I moved my finger to hit the button Cameron turned his face and planted a kiss on my cheek. There was nothing overtly romantic about the gesture but it flustered me nonetheless. Looking at the photo now you’d never guess that seconds later I’d hidden away in the bathroom, talking myself down from the proverbial ledge. The picture staring back at me was of two happy, carefree people, a sweet, easy moment captured forever.