Shit!
Massaging my pounding temples, I tried numbing the memory of her desolate expression. I had no idea she’d be here. Sarah never mentioned it. Not that she had reason to. I hadn’t spoken to her all week, I’d been running that damn hard. I had spoken to Jordan via Eligia when I called first thing this morning, and nothing was mentioned about a schedule change for him or his damn mother!
That fucking Ty had crossed the line with this one. I’d asked her to befriend Zoey, not to bring her to the damn lion’s den. What the hell was she thinking?
“You okay, babe?” Erika purred from the sofa next to me. “You want some aspirin or something? I can have Josh fetch you something.”
I shook my head, fucking frustrated, further annoyed by the lack of privacy. There was always a “gathering” or just “a few people over” with Erika. It was like she was allergic to the peace of being alone. The shit annoyed the fuck out of me. We left the club and on the way back, in the truck, she informed with her baby voice and puckered lips that there would be “a few people over” for drinks here at our suite. Still caught up in thought about Zoey’s presence at the club and trying to withstand a steeping headache, I didn’t think to cancel the notion. I came back to the hotel, showered the scent of the club away and threw on a sweat suit. Now, I was sitting in the living room with seven people I barely knew.
I felt like shit emotionally and physically. Zoey and I were as distant as ever now. And when I learned that Erika’s pretentious ass tweeted that picture of my thigh, I almost lost it on her. “But you said no official pictures…like for promos and stuff. This was one I took from my phone. It’s different,” she cried when I reamed her ass out about it, demanding she take the shit down. I’d put her ass on time out for a couple of days, ignoring texts and refusing calls. I needed a breather. I didn’t sign up for my private life to be on public display.
And to give off the impression that our sex life was any more than the fucking joke it was had been comical. I’d finally given in and started fucking her in hopes of it forcing me to follow my plan of giving Zoey the room she needed from me to spread her wings. I’d continue to make love to her if I could and still allow her to experience life without my influence, but there was no way of that happening. Our chemistry was too potent. Our love was too addictive and soul reaching. I’d always known it, and those facts had been highlighted since I moved on to another lover.
Erika was a poser, and actor. She made all the right sounds at the ideal times during sex, thinking that contrived bullshit turned me on. The first few times she wanted me to believe she was enjoying it when I knew she was simply enduring it. Erika couldn’t take the dick—at least not mine. As of recently she’d come around, but there was certainly no astounding chemistry between us. She didn’t do it for me like that. Her perfect olive frame…bountiful tits, robust ass—that I’d started to believe wasn’t a feature she was born with—was every man’s wet dream. But Erika couldn’t fuck to save her botoxed life. Yeah, she indulged in that a bit, too.
And then there was the trust factor. I had none for her. Erika spent too much time measuring her outward persona. So this meant everything we did had to be on full display to her fans. Nothing was organic. I didn’t honestly know who she was, which was why I never exposed her to bondage. I couldn’t trust her confidence, couldn’t risk her slip to the wrong person and having it on TMZ like her deleted tweet. Jackson pegged her right with having a docile personality. She was sweet. Just shallow as hell.