That was better. And I couldn’t say no to her. Not ever.
I gripped her hips and slammed into her as she groaned. I gasped in relief. “Yes,” she screamed as if it was all she’d been waiting for her whole life.
It was so deep like this. We fit perfectly. I couldn’t stop. I wanted to give her whatever she wanted. I needed to take from her more.
I pressed my palm on her lower back, desperate to keep her in position, not wanting to waste a single thrust.
Her hair skirted her skin as she leaned up on her elbows and turned her head to look at me.
It was like a bullet to the chest. She was so beautiful, her eyes heavy with desire, her mouth slightly parted, the need in her expression. How had I got so fucking lucky?
I wanted to come on her. Over her. In her. I wanted her whole body covered in me. She quivered the way she always did before she came the second time and it was too much. Seeing her undone sent blood rushing to my dick.
Her desire for me—not the actor, model, star, but just me—tipped me over the edge. Her eyes widened and she lingered on the cusp of orgasm, begging for release. I was happy to give it to her. Three final, sharp thrusts and she arched her back and called out my name. She couldn’t get any more perfect.
I fell onto the bed and rolled to my back, pulling her into my arms.
She twisted her legs, linking them through mine as she always did. Who would’ve thought I’d have a postcoital routine that existed of something more than a piss and a good-bye.
Our breathing hadn’t even returned to normal before I started imagining Lana gripping the edge of my dining room table while I pounded into her from behind. “You’re wicked,” I said, kissing the top of her head.
“I am?” she asked.
“You make me insatiable.”
“I’m pretty confident you had that covered before I arrived,” she said.
My sexual past wouldn’t stop hovering around us like a bad smell. Did it bother her? Worry her?
I shifted so she was on her back, then propped my head up with my hand and stared down at her perfect naked body. I slid my palm between her breasts and over her belly. “You get that this is different for me, right?” She caught my hand before it could go lower. “You’re different. For me. That’s why you’re here, in LA, in my home, in my bed. I can’t pretend there haven’t been women before you, and I can’t change that—don’t want to. But you’re the only one that I want to be with. I hope you feel the same.”
She traced my eyebrows with her finger as if buying herself time to think. “Kiss me,” she said simply. It wasn’t any kind of declaration, but she never had to ask twice.
And anyway, it was enough.
For now.
Lana
Between orgasms, I had managed a little sleep thanks to the difference in time zones. So although I was tired, it could have been worse. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to go out in the middle of the night, but Matt seemed excited. I’d rather have stayed naked and in bed with him.
“Are you ready?” he called through the bathroom door. We’d agreed to have separate showers or we’d never manage to get out of the house.
“Just coming.”
He snickered and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and grin as I pulled on a pink blouse and a pair of skinny jeans.
Being here in LA with him hadn’t been as awkward as I’d imagined it might be. We’d spent a lot of time together in Maine, but I’d been worried he may be someone different at home. Sometimes people changed depending on their environment.
Part of me had thought this trip would be a release. I’d be able to leave and say to myself that Matt wasn’t the man I’d thought he was and that we’d go our separate ways. But so far, Matt was the same, which was both wonderful and terrifying.
I scrambled through my bag for my mascara. Even though Matt had said I didn’t need makeup tonight, I was pretty sure there wasn’t a woman in Los Angeles who went completely barefaced. Mascara, blush and maybe a bit of lip balm would be the absolute minimum while I was here.
“Car’s here,” he yelled.
I almost ran into him as I came out of the bedroom. Excitedly, he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the house.
Matt held my car door open as David slid into the front seat. “You’re okay with the route?” Matt asked.
“Absolutely, sir,” he replied and then Matt flicked the switch that brought the screen up between us.
“You’ve never been to LA, right?” Matt asked, taking my hand and clasping it in his lap.
“Nope. Ruby and I were going to go after graduation but then . . .” But then my ex had ruined our plans. I hadn’t even attended the ceremony.
“If I ever meet him, he’s going to get knocked into next week.”
I kissed his shoulder. “You’re sweet, but I wouldn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing it still bothers me.” Bobby had wanted to control me, to punish me, and releasing those photos had given that to him. In my own way, I was finally trying to take some of that power back, here, with Matt. I was getting on with my life.
“Have you seen him since it happened? To confront him?”
“No, never laid eyes on him again.” The damage had been done and confronting him would just have given him the attention from me that he wanted. “There was no point. I just walked away.”
He pulled me closer to him. “Always a lady.”
“Not when I’m in yoga pants and socks.”
“Especially then. That’s your sexiest look.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “You’ve got all the right words today.”
He kissed me on the lips, then moved away and tapped on the tinted window. “This is Rodeo Drive. You’ve heard of that, right?”
“With all the stores? Can I roll down the window?” I asked. “I like the breeze and I want to see better.”
He grinned and reached for the button.
“No one will see you, right?”
“Not at all. We’ll be moving too fast.”
The warm air slipped into the air-conditioned car, making me shiver. “It’s so hot, even so late.” The street was quiet and still, and reminded me of a film set, all new and perfect.
“We can come shopping tomorrow if you like.” he said.
“Like you can just walk into stores without people noticing you.” I laughed. “And anyway, I’m not much of a shopper.” He’d promised me we wouldn’t go out in public. Hopefully he wasn’t regretting that decision.
“And now we’re turning on to Sunset Boulevard,” he said as we turned right. “Like the movie.”
“And the musical.”
“That,” he said, pointing to the left. “Is the Beverly Hills Hotel.”
The familiar white cursive font on the side of the green building poked out from between the palm trees. “We’re not going there though, are we?”