How I Became Lotus Raine...the Porn Star (16 page)

“Well that definitely gives new meaning to the term cum shot.” I kicked at his leg, teasing him.

“Hmm,” I glanced down at my list only having a few left to go. “Have you ever met someone you liked outside of work and were afraid to tell them your profession?” I snuck in a question of mine in.

“I try to avoid relationships or even situations where I’d have to explain myself while in this business. Of course I meet people that know prior, so it’s not an issue. But, yes. I have.” He gave me a weak smile before resting his head back against the couch. He was ready for the interview to be over. I was ready before it even started.

“Have you ever wanted more with a co-star?”

Brent’s head shot up and he looked at me with disbelief.

“No. Not that nothing has never happened, but I’ve never been involved with anyone for relationship purposes. Or wanted more beyond anything physical.”

He clasped his hands together and leaned his arms down on his legs. He watched me intently as I starred the ones we’d already did. I put a few extra stars down, not making him aware of the ones I planned on skipping.

“Have you ever been required to do something you weren’t comfortable with?” I read off my personal question I had filtered in.

“There are many aspects of the job that I’m not always comfortable with. But once I remind myself why I’m in it, the feeling goes away.”

“Why are you in it then? Is it strictly about the money?”

“No. The money is a big reason, but I’ve told you before I’m an artist. If done correctly, sex can be a form of art. There’s all sorts of techniques, movements and feelings involved. To me, sex is the most artistic thing a human can take part in.”

And there it was. My panties melted. Or combusted. I wasn’t quite sure. But hearing from that perfect mouth of his the true reasoning behind his career choice, had me all sorts of hot and bothered.

“You alright over there?” Brent asked with a smirk as he leaned forward with his elbows pushing down on his thighs.

“Yeah.” I shifted from side to side, trying to get comfortable. “Why?” I basically stuttered the word.

“Because I don’t think you are.” His eyes filled with amusement.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I scribbled on my paper, hoping the movement of my hand would distract him.

He clasped his hands together, the sound caused me to look up, meeting his stare.

“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.” His mind was working. I could see it. He was retracing what led to my change. I felt like a dog in heat, and I hated that he could basically smell it when I was horny. Well, I hated it a little bit.

“Well let me know when you do,” I said, trying to replace my sudden skyrocket in hormones with some sense of control.

He let out a cluck noise as his tongue popped the roof of his mouth.

“I knew you were different.” Brent stood, and strutted toward me. “Even though we messed around the first time we met, I still knew you weren’t like the women I’m used to.” He sat down on the coffee table and grabbed my notebook, closing the questions inside with the cover and setting it down. I kept the pen in my hand and kept clicking the top of it, feeling nervous. “I just didn’t realize the extent.” He smiled, letting out a slight laugh as he shook his head. “Let me clarify that. I never realized how much of a fucking turn on it would be to be with someone so different.” He cupped my cheek, “But my God, I never knew how hard it’d make me to be around someone who was interested in more than just my cock.”

“Well,” I gulped hard as my eyes trailed down his body seeing the physical evidence of how turned on he was. “That’s not completely true.”

Keeping his hand firmly against my face, he eyed me suspiciously.

“You see.” I dropped the pen and placed my hand on his thigh. His breath hitched and his body stilled as I let it trail up his jean covered leg. “I’m very interested in your cock.”

“Show and tell time, baby.” He leaned in and pulled my face closer, placing a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. “And by the way,” I felt him smile against my skin. “I’m more into showing.”

“Then let me show you.” I slightly pushed him back as I stood closing the small space between us. I spread my legs and sat on his lap, straddling him. And from there, I showed him just how smitten with his cock I was.

“I’M CONFUSED,” SHEPARD admits as he drops his pen and leans back in his chair.

“About what?” I re-cross my leg, ready to un-confuse him.

“Well, Brent said how big of a turn on it was to be with someone who was interested in more than just his cock.” I nod and he continues. “But it seems like all you two did was have sex.”

I laugh. “Yeah, we had sex the whole time I was there. How else do you think I became a porn star? Obviously I had to get trained in the department.” I shrug, “Kind of.”

I stand up and Shepard’s eyes drift up and down my body. I walk towards the window and lean against it as I look out and watch the world buzzing beneath us.

“I could go through our every move each day I was there, but each little moment won’t lead to the ending any faster. And it damn sure won’t give you a better understanding of it all.” I walk back to my chair and sit down. “The sex was a huge part of our connection. But that wasn’t all. But it’s easier to get to know someone once you’ve familiarized each other physically.”

“Do you think everything would have still taken place between you both if you guys hadn’t hooked up beforehand in that bathroom?”

“I cannot confirm or deny that.” I smirk and Shepard raises a brow. “Honestly, I don’t know. If I would have known he was a porn star previously, it might have scared me off. I justified the instant attraction I had to him and allowing us to continue being physical that week off the fact that we had already been intimate before I knew.”

I laugh again and kick my boots off. “Who am I kidding? There’s no way I could have stayed with him for that entire week and not done anything. Sometimes the pull is just too strong and the end result is inevitable. No matter how hard you fight it. Which I didn’t try very hard.”

“Would you call what you felt toward him a version of insta-love?”

“Now, Shepard, you know that phrase is sometimes frowned upon in the literary world.” I tsk my finger at him. “I believe insta-love exists for some people. And that the people who’ve been burned or haven’t experienced it are very cynical of its existence. I had many feelings when it came to Brent during our first week together. But none of them were insta-love. More like insta-lust.”

LATER ON THAT day, Brent had told me to throw something comfortable on.

“If you have like some sort of exercise clothes and tennis shoes, that’d be best,” he said as we both walked our separate ways to our rooms.

Ten minutes later, I met him back in the living room. I had on my super fitted, short, black shorts and a purple sports bra. I held a loose, grey tank in my hand to put on once we left the apartment. I was never into being so revealing in public and that particular outfit was reserved for the classes I took nightly twice a week.

Brent was bent over stretching and momentarily froze in his movement as he spotted me. He slowly lifted his torso up, keeping his eyes fixed on my body.

“You have no clue how fucking sexy you are.”

“Yeah, I do.” I threw my hand over my mouth. “Wow that sounded conceited.”

“No, it sounded confident. And confidence is sexy.” Even though I was practically naked, I loved the fact that he still thought I was sexy clothed.

“So, what are we doing?” I asked as I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail.

“Well first, you’re going to get over here and stretch.”

I walked over and stood right in front of him. Then turned around, and slowly bent over, touching my fingertips to my toes.

Brent’s hands gripped my hips and I stayed bent over waiting for him to stretch me out again. The thin shorts I had on, and the gym shorts he was wearing hid nothing as he pulled me against him and bounced us together a few times.

“Later,” Brent said with a slight edge to his voice before releasing his hold on my hips. I leaned over even farther for the hell of it and heard him let out a groan. With that, I slowly stood back up with a very satisfied grin across my face.

“WHAT’D YOU GUYS do? Go to the gym?” I wonder if Shepard’s recorder is still recording. Or if he even pushed it to start to begin with.

I huff. “I wish. We went running. I hate running,” I say in a dreadful tone.

Shepard smiles. He should do so more often. He’s got a very handsome one, especially when he actually smiles wide enough to show off his straight, white teeth and the dimple that peeks out when it’s allowed out of hiding.

“Did you tell Brent that?” he asks with amusement.

“Well, yeah. After the fact though. I had this weird idea that maybe with Brent being involved that it’d change my view on running. That I’d magically like it or something—like sex.”

“And?” Shepard eyes me.

“Pft. I still hate running.”

“HOW MUCH LONGER?” I yelled at Brent as I held my side. I was quickly falling further and further behind him. I knew the man had stamina in bed, but he was just plain showing off when it came to running. I did enjoy the show of being behind him as he ran shirtless...with sweat cascading down his body. I never got what the deal was with women salivating over sweaty men—for example: at the gym. But as I salivated from behind, watching him run and sweat, I got it. Besides the fact that I instantly pictured both of us naked and equally sweaty, I came to the conclusion that attractive male sweat must contain some sort of aphrodisiac. There is just no other logical explanation why something so gross should turn any sane woman on.

Brent turned around and began jogging backwards in front of me, taunting me as I slowly crept behind.

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” I said out of breath as I stopped.

“And what fun would that be for me?” he teased as he jogged in place in front of me.

“I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”

“You want to take a break?” He stopped his movements and stood still in front of me.

I cocked a brow at him. “Another rhetorical question, right?”

He laughed.

“The only type of break I want, is an infinite one.” I crouched down, low to the cement sidewalk, stretching out some of my sore muscles. “I hate running.”