Hollywood Lies (15 page)

I want to drive him wild. I bob my head up and down his shaft. One hand is wrapped around him, moving with my mouth, while the other tickles his balls. The sounds coming from Devon are making me hotter for him than I already am.
 

I love giving head to the right man. It’s men like Devon who make it worthwhile. I can tell he enjoys what I’m doing to him by the way he sucks in his breath, and how he holds it tight for a moment before letting the air rush out of him, as well as by how his hands are in constant motion, urging me on, massaging my scalp, and playing with my hair.

The need grows within me, so I start sucking his cock with abandon. It’s skilled, but not precise. I don’t stop before the tip nudges the opening of my throat. I let myself gag a bit because I know he’ll love how it feels. I’m moving so fast now as I hold onto his rock-hard dick tightly, but bring my other hand down between my legs.
 

He grunts and moans, saying dirty things about what he wants to do to me. I could do this all night if he wants me to, but he pulls his hips away, and his cock slides out of my mouth. I duck my head back toward him and flick my tongue against the tight cord that runs the underside of his shaft.

Devon’s hands on my shoulders stop me from bringing him back into my mouth. He bends down and takes my hands. I’m curious how he’ll be.
His body tells me he wants me, but will he be the kind of guy that controls the situation, or will I be the one that drives it? Will he bend me over the sofa and fuck me hard? Will he take me against the wall?
 

Devon leads me to the bedroom, carefully laying me down on the king-sized bed. My legs are open wide, inviting him in, but he takes the time to survey the scene. As his eyes move from mine down my body, his hands glide down my flesh as well. The sensation sends shivers coursing through me.

I point to the table beside the bed. At his confused look, I say simply, “Condom.”

He retrieves it, then returns to me as he rips open the packet. When Devon’s free hand gets to the junction of my legs, he slips a finger between my folds, rubs my clit, then pushes the finger inside of me. In and out several times, then he puts another finger into me. I contract my muscles to let him know how it’ll feel when he fills me up with his cock.

Just when I begin to wonder if he’ll be like Oliver and want me to beg, he grabs my hips and tugs me close to him. My eyes stay connected with him until the point of entry. I can’t help but let my eyes close, heightening the sensation of the fat head of his cock pushing into my tight opening.

A breathy moan escapes me as I arch my body up.

Devon buries himself deep now, and stays still until we both adjust to the newness. Me on my back and him standing before me is very vanilla, but it’s ridiculously hot all the same. His body is tight and lean. I reach up and run my hand down his sparsely-haired chest and use my nails to scrape his skin.
 

As he begins to thrust into me, Devon moves his hand to my belly. With his fingers splayed across my mound, his thumb circles my clit in time with his body smacking mine. He takes his hand away and drapes himself over me. The skin on skin contact makes the vibrations within me double. His hips keep the rhythm while he stares into my eyes.

This is the most intimate and erotic moment I’ve had in a long time. I can’t remember the last time a guy looked directly into my eyes in a moment like this. I bring my hand up to curl it around Devon’s neck. Our noses touch, and his lips move, not to kiss me, but to whisper soft things like how much he wants me, how beautiful I am, how good I feel, how good I make
him
feel.

“God, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”

I nod. I’m lucky, too.

Heat rises up and my toes curl. It forces me to break our visual connection. My orgasm hits.

Devon coaxes me through it with a gentle voice. “Yeah, baby, come for me.”

My climax triggers a change in his actions. His thrusts become just a little less timed, a little more frantic. I clutch him, arms around his shoulders, and let his movements rock my body underneath him.
 

Devon is still hitting the spot I love, so I let go of him, then gently press his shoulders back. I flip us around and straddle him. With my head thrown back, I make a sound between a chuckle of pleasure and a grunt of serious concentration.
 

He brings his hands to my hips and tries to control my grinding, but I just give him a small, wicked smirk and shake my head. This is my turn to rock him. He obviously gets it because he brings both hands up to my breasts and squeezes them. I want him to know I like it, and he can be rougher with me, too, so I place my hands over his and force him to dig his fingers deeper into my flesh.

I rock on top of him, carefully at first, then faster until my hips buck on the upstroke. The whole bed is moving with the beat of our bodies. My next orgasm is about to hit, and I know Devon is close, too. I’m ready for us to come together, but before I can stop him, he grabs my hips and spins me around.
 

I’m facing away from him now, still in control of the action, but then he pulls my arms behind me. My hands are flat on the bed beside him as I ride him backwards. I can feel the hot warmth of his breath against my neck and ear. “Let me,” he says in a tone so different than the whispers earlier.

I raise my hips a little and hold myself still as he fills me from below. The slap of our bodies grows louder and louder. When he reaches around and rubs my pussy hard with one hand and grabs my breast tightly with the other, my shouts compete with the smack of skin on skin.

“Oh, God,” I say.

“You like that?” he grumbles in my ear.

“Yes.”

“You like my cock?”

“I love your cock.”

“You want to come?”

I nod, the back of my head against his shoulder. When his hand moves faster over my clit, I can’t hold back, and I don’t want to. Shouts fill the air, and my arms can no longer hold me up. I collapse back onto him.

But Devon isn’t finished. He lifts me easily to maneuver me onto my hands and knees on the edge of the bed, then pushes back into me hard.
 

This is all about him now. He has given me mine, and now he wants his. His fingers are nearly ripping off the flesh over my hipbones. The thrusts are hard and jarring and going to make me come again. I push back against him each time he drives into me.
 

He says things like, “Damn, baby. Fuck, yeah,” and making some noises I’m not sure are words.

With one big smack, I come again. His strokes into me are shorter and quicker now. He grunts, then both our bodies slacken.

When I return to the room, Devon is sprawled out on the bed. He has the covers drawn up to just above his hips. It hides his cock, but showcases the tight abdomen. The fact he is comfortable enough to just crawl into my bed doesn’t shock me. What surprises me is how much I want him there.

Even though I want something with Devon like I had with Oliver and Quin, he isn’t like them. Quin would have been dead asleep by now, and Oliver would have been up writing or reading another script, making calls—getting business done.

But Devon is in my bed, eyes open, waiting on me to return. There is something beautiful and scary in that.

“Hey.”
 

His soft voice sets butterflies loose in my chest. I step toward the bed and let my fingers play over the comforter. “Hi.”

Devon reaches out, intertwines his fingers with mine, then pulls me down. I raise my legs up, then slide them beneath the covers. The feel of his rough, hairy ones against mine makes me smile. I sometimes forget how much I like things like this. I just look at him as I press my lips together.
 

He looks back at me. “You’re so beautiful.”
 

I shake my head. I’m never good when real people pay me a real compliment. I watch as his eyes dart all over my face.
 

He rolls onto his side, then brings his hand up to cup my cheek. “Cole,” he says, and nothing else.

“Hmm?”

“You seem timid now. You’re always so confident, I don’t . . .”

A quiet, amazed chuckle escapes me. “How do you figure people out the way you do?”
 

Devon shakes his head as if to say he doesn’t understand.
 

“I
am
confident in most things I do, but you’re pretty intense.”

“What?” Devon takes his hand away from my cheek and rises up onto his elbow. “Pretty much everyone I know would say I’m the most laid-back person they know.”

I nod. “You are, but emotionally, you’re incredibly intense. I don’t emote much, and you wear your feelings in each expression you have. When we’re shooting and you’re not on camera, I can tell if a scene works based on your expression. Like the scene with Landon and Liliana. I knew we needed to reshoot until this little line . . .” I run a finger along the crease of his brow. “Disappeared.”

Devon lays back down. “What are you saying?”

“You intimidate me.”

“Bullshit,” he says with a laugh.
 

I just shrug. He doesn’t have to believe me. After a few minutes of silence in which I enjoy the sensation of his arm pressed against mine, I turn to him again and ask, “What do you want most in life?”

“Happiness.”

“How do you get it?”

I have his complete attention now, but he distracts me by running a finger lazily up and down my arm. “Friends, family, and a beautiful and complete lover.”

“I want happiness, too, but I get it from gaining peace. My happiness comes when I’m left alone.”

Devon sits up and runs a hand through his bed-tangled hair. “Do you want me to leave?”

I’m quick to move into his lap. “No.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold myself tightly to him. “No, please don’t.”

“But you said you want to be left alone.”

“Not completely alone. I meant being left alone as in, people not coming at me from all directions, trying to get or take things from me.”

Finally, Devon glides his hands down my back, soothing. “You picked the wrong business to be in then, didn’t you?”

I chuckle, then give his shoulder a small kiss. “So you like relationships,” I say in summary of how he attains happiness. “Tell me something about your childhood. Like with your parents or something.”

“I think you’d like my dad. He’s got this way of making the whole world boil down to two things: beer and peanuts.”

“What?”

“Yeah, so beer is the stuff you can’t live without, the stuff you need to survive, and the peanuts are the fluff of life, what you like, but don’t need.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Beer was designed to be liquid bread, right?”

I nod against him. “I guess so.”

“So you can essentially live off it. When you go to a bar, what do you go there for? The beer or the bowl of peanuts on the bar?”

“The beer.”

Devon smiles. “Right. The beer. So when my sister and I were growing up, every time we had an issue, my dad made us classify the main object—be it the love of Ashley McKellen in the sixth grade or the Nike shoes I just had to have. Back when we were real small, he didn’t say beer or peanuts. He used juice boxes and potato chips, but that’s not as snappy as beer and peanuts.”

“You’re right. I like your dad already.”

Devon’s laugh tickles my ear, and I tighten my arms around him.
 

“So when I was just a kid in my acting class, I heard about this awesome actress shooting a movie in my hometown. And I wanted to go so badly. It was going to cost money to go into Manhattan for the day, and I’d have to take a day off school to do it, so when I asked my dad if he’d give me permission to miss school and give me some money for the subway and food, he asked me to classify the trip. Beer or peanuts. Need or want.”

It feels like I can’t breathe as I listen to him. “And what did you say?”

“Beer. So he gave me seventy-five bucks, way more than what I needed, and told me to have a good time. When I woke that morning and it was raining, he asked again, but wasn’t surprised when I said going was a necessity.”