The Passion Series (5 page)

3 – Tears

He’s a fake, that’s all there is to it,
Heather thought. But she couldn’t put him out of her mind. Her body ached for him, his scorching hot touch.

Her apartment seemed emptier than ever. Sleep eluded her. All night she’d hugged her pillow and sobbed. Even then, she’d ached for him, desire pressing against her excited clit. The pain was intolerable.

At least she wasn’t planning to go to the office today, so nobody would see her swollen red eyes and ask questions. She couldn’t face questions.

The chimes of the doorbell echoed through the room, reminding her that she’d agreed to have lunch with Jenna today. Her trusted friend was a welcome sight. Heather didn’t realize what a mess she really was until she started sobbing again, uncontrollably, trying to explain to Jenna why she didn’t feel like going to lunch today.

“Hey, Heather, don’t worry. We can do lunch another time. Tell me what happened, please. I want to hear everything.” Jenna sat Heather down on the sofa and handed her some tissue.

“I hardly know where to start,” Heather blubbered. She saw the crease in Jenna’s forehead and took a deep breath. She proceeded to recount last night’s events, slowly, between sobs and dabbing her eyes. Jenna’s eyes widened at the pure romance of the story, even though Heather didn’t give graphic details.

But the crease in her forehead deepened when Heather described making her earth-shattering discovery. Jenna was quietly shaking her head.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Jenna stood to pace back and forth, rubbing her temple. “I feel so horrible for you, that you had to go through that.”

Heather looked down at the floor. “I can’t see him again. He’ll destroy me. I don’t seem able to resist him.” She buried her eyes in a fresh Kleenex.

Both girls jumped when the doorbell rang again. “Are you expecting anyone?” Jenna was already walking toward the front door.

“Nobody else, just you.” Heather shook her head.

“Who is it?” Heather asked. Jenna had her eye against the peephole. Suddenly, she jumped back. “It’s him.”

“Ryan?” Heather gasped.

4 – Explanation

Jenna slipped out the door and Ryan barged in. “You have to listen to me, Heather. Let me explain, please. I’ve been up all night.”

Heather was hardly presentable. She could just imagine her puffy eyes. And she was dressed, barely, in a thin satin robe. Ryan looked dashing, as usual. She felt excitement flood through her just looking at his biceps. He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt with his washed jeans.

Ryan saw the distress Heather couldn’t hide and felt even worse. Her soft blond curls were held up in a clip. She looked deliciously disheveled.

“You’re engaged?” The words just came out before she could think.

“No, not really.” He took her hand and pulled her to the sofa. “It’s kind of a long story. I don’t suppose you’d just trust me.” The look on Heather’s face was distracting.
She should hate me
, he thought. Yet there was a look in her eyes that he’d come to know in just this short time. Ryan felt the lust consuming him, being this close to her. He had to fix this mess.

“Let’s just say that in my business, there are pressures. Publicity is a big deal.” Ryan combed his hand through his hair.

“So, you are going to marry her?” Heather moved away from Ryan, leaning farther back on the cushion behind her. Looking at Ryan’s anxiety pulled at her heart, but she tried to stay strong.

“No. Believe me when I tell you that I’m not. We’ve gone out. We were seen together. The tabloids went crazy. That’s nothing unusual. The big story is our engagement. But there is no engagement. Christina must have leaked something to the press.”

“Do you love her?” Heather’s voice was so quiet she barely heard it herself. She took in his muscled chest and shoulders, the ache for him starting deep inside her.

Ryan looked at her with his piercing gray-green eyes and just kept looking at her. Heather felt the heat spreading through her core. She began not caring what Ryan said, as long as he was
with her. Last night’s torture told her that she needed him, badly, whether he was good for her or not.

“No. I don’t love her.” Ryan felt his dick harden as he looked into Heather’s eyes. Neither spoke. Heather felt weak and looked down, clinging to her last second of restraint. Ryan reached out, pulling her suddenly close to him, with his hand behind her back. As she slid on the sofa, the silk robe came open. He realized that she had nothing under it. His heart skipped a beat.

Heather had no strength to resist. She was crazy for him, out of her depth. The wetness between her legs betrayed her again. Ryan’s lips on hers, pressing into a hard, almost desperate kiss, pushed her over the edge. She clung to him, grabbing his hair, stroking his hard neck and shoulders.

Ryan moaned as he kissed her. He had one hand behind her head, as if to hold her to him so she couldn’t escape. His tongue slipped in and out of her mouth, stroking her tongue, loving her. His other hand found her moist vagina. He felt the outer lips and tangled his fingers briefly in the sparse pubic hair.

“Heather, baby,” he gasped as he pulled back from a kiss and began to lick down her neck to her lovely, firm breasts. His possessiveness pushed her closer to orgasm. She felt the urge to have him deep inside her. His mouth tenderly sucked first one nipple, then the other. He licked her delicious, flawless skin. Heather’s soft moan excited him and he bit lightly at each hard pink nipple, feeling the tiny darts harden in response.

Heather spread her legs invitingly, responding to Ryan’s hand on her exposed sex. Without hesitation, his two fingers slid into the wet opening. Heather felt his thumb massage her clit, ever so slowly at first, driving her insane and making her want more. She kissed his neck, breathing in his scent. Sex made him smell so erotic. Male sex engulfed her senses.

Ryan’s thumb now stroked her clit insistently. She arched her back, her head tilting back, offering her breasts to Ryan’s tongue. He swirled his tongue around a nipple and her eyes closed in pleasure. He leaned her back until she was lying on the sofa and quickly undid his jeans, slipping off his loafers and taking the pants off. Heather looked at him through glazed eyes, noticing that he wore tight briefs. He yanked them down and his dick sprang out, exposed to her.

Heather writhed on the sofa and reached out her hands to touch his beautiful, hard cock with soft, loving touches. Ryan’s heavy male groan tipped her arousal beyond limits. She leaned farther forward and licked his hard shaft, up and down, tasting the intimate flavor of his skin, smelling his maleness. Pre-cum flowed from the hard knob at the top. She dipped her finger in it, spreading the thick liquid around the head.

Ryan lost control. He pressed her into the sofa and buried his head between her legs. He licked the inside of her thighs, across her outer labia, then inside her. Finding her tight clit, he sucked delicately, knowing how sensitive it was right then. He looked up momentarily, seeing that Heather’s eyes were closed, her fists pushing into the sofa cushion underneath her.

He put his tongue inside her, causing her to writhe in response, but pulled it out before she could come. She gasped. He opened her inner lips and sweetly kissed her little clit, then blew on it lightly. Heather whimpered. The first wave of orgasm was threatening. She wanted to be taken.

Ryan reached up toward her breasts and pinched her nipples. She emitted a very feminine sound, the sound of a woman in the throes of ecstasy. He continued to rub her nipples, his warm mouth over her clit. He began to expertly lick her cleft and around her clit, gradually faster and faster. His cock had become so hard it pained him. He instinctively rubbed it against the side of the sofa as he licked and pleasured Heather.

He breathed in her sweet smell and tasted the cream dripping out of her. With renewed vigor he licked her, faster and faster, then sucked in just the right way over her clit, knowing she was sliding into convulsive waves.

Heather was panting, pushing her head back, arching her back, tightening her muscles. A hard, violent orgasm rolled through her. She shouted. The pleasure gripped her and wouldn’t let go. She bounced her hips up and down. The orgasm lessened, allowing a calmer feeling to flood her body. She continued moving her hips, her hands in Ryan’s hair. For what seemed like minutes, she softly moaned.

Ryan raised himself over her, relishing the flush of her cheeks and the orgasmic state she still reveled in. His hard cock demanded attention. He’d nearly come just witnessing Heather roll
uncontrollably through her waves of orgasm. He reached into his pants pocket and grabbed out a condom in a rush to get it on before he sprayed his hot cum all over her.

She spread her legs wider, begging him to enter her. The hard shaft slid into her, filling her. He moaned, grabbing her hands and holding them down. He was nearly afraid to move, not wanting to come just yet. Heather moved her hips up and down, helping Ryan penetrate her fully. His hugeness excited her. She wanted him in her as deep as he could go. She felt down to the bottom of his shaft and grabbed his hot balls in her hand. “God, Heather!” He gasped.

She reached behind, grabbing his ass in her hands. It was so hard. She felt the muscles tensing. Her clit had never fully relaxed. Now, her insides seemed to tighten, her whole vagina craving release.

Ryan tensed and she tensed with him. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking into her eyes at just the last second. Then his moan became louder and didn’t stop. He came hard and long with her, as her sheath tightened around him, clutching ever harder. Her orgasm started inside her vagina, fully engaging her sex. She stiffened and came completely. Ryan collapsed but held his weight on his elbows, his head bowed down. She leaned up to kiss the top of his head, lingering there to inhale the sweet smell of love.

5 – Torn

Ryan was late to a meeting. It seemed recently that his investment business consumed as much time as his acting career. He hated leaving Heather. She’d seemed emotionally okay when he left, but he couldn’t be sure. His heart warmed, thinking of coming in her arms.

They kissed goodbye, long and passionately. Heather had watched until Ryan’s Escalade was out of sight, not sure when she’d see him again. He’d promised to call.

She took a long, hot shower, still subdued with the effects of her wild, erotic sex with Ryan. She dreamily reflected on it and became aroused. She was his and she knew it. No other man had ever made her feel the way he did. He seemed to know her body and knew precisely how to please her. She wasn’t going to give that up.

Once she dried off, she threw on her painting clothes and hustled down to her studio. She wanted to make significant progress on Ryan’s painting, especially now. Her brush flew on the canvas, the passion for the painting fueled with her erotic thoughts of Ryan.

Yet something still nagged at her. The memories of sex with Ryan washed over her body as if they were a part of her. The distraction was welcome. It felt so good after the many months it had taken her to recover from her broken heart. She feared she was heading toward another one, not yet strong enough to deal with it.

Christina plagued her thoughts. She recognized jealousy mixed with her erotic memories. Ryan had dated Christina Levain, after all. He must have been attracted to her, maybe still was. Christina was labeled Most Beautiful Woman in a recent entertainment magazine. Heather wasn’t sure it was right to replace Christina as Ryan’s lover. And she didn’t know if that was all she was. They hadn’t talked about more.

It was evident that Heather was drawn to him, any resistance melting in his presence. She was so angry, partly at herself, for blindly falling into Ryan’s arms at the least provocation. Whether it could last was uncertain.

She was a painter, an artist, but not a celebrity. In Ryan’s world, everything was larger than life. Privacy was not part of the package. The article about the rumored engagement was evidence of that.

That was what bothered her. How did the tabloids get that idea? True, they exaggerated. But rarely did they make up stories out of thin air. There was more to the story. She’d have to get to the bottom of it.

Her work left her thirsty. She went upstairs, making her way to the kitchen. On the hardwood floor, in front of the door, was a small yellow envelope. She noted her name written in perfect script across the back. There was no return address.

Inside, the note was brief yet purposeful. It read: “Stay away from Ryan.”
Signed simply, “Christina.”

She couldn’t imagine what prompted such a reaction. She and Ryan weren’t in the columns. For all anyone knew, they hadn’t even met. Not only did Christina know
, she had Heather’s home address.

Heather already knew she couldn’t continue this way. She didn’t want her name splashed about in connection with the Ryan and Christina relationship. She cringed to think. Who would hire her to paint after her name was dragged through the mud? And that was the least of it—
emotionally, she didn’t think she’d survive it. She fell into a nearby chair, covering her face with her hands.

An hour must have passed before she was able to follow through on what she knew she had to do. Her hand shook as she inked out a short note:

Dear Ryan, I won’t pretend to hide how I feel about you. I’ve been all too clear about that already. But due to the circumstances, I feel it’s best to decline the commission for your painting. I’ve become too emotionally involved. I’ll provide a list of other competent artists. I’m sure you will find someone suitable. Personally, I cannot find it in my heart to regret being with you. But I know I don’t fit in your world. I’ll never be good for your image. Not like Christina. Please don’t call. Heather

She called Jenna, asking her to drop by and deliver the note to Blake Enterprises, Ryan’s investment company. She knew he had a meeting there today and wanted him to read it as soon
as he was free, before he called her.

She went back to her studio. Losing herself in her work would be the best thing. But Ryan’s painting, sitting on the easel, reminded her of the immense loss of the man that meant more to her than she cared to admit.

She slumped to the floor, tears filling her eyes.