Текст книги "Child Star: Part 1"

Автор книги: J. J. McAvoy

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 6 страниц)

“Yes!” she cried out, and I pulled her up from the bed, kneeling down and bouncing her onto my dick.

“Ahh…that’s … so … fucking … good!” she cried out, biting her lips as she clung to me. She stared deeply in my eyes and then … she smacked me hard across my cheek.

I paused for a moment and looked to her. “Do it again.”

She smirked, slapping my other cheek.

The pain felt good.

Pulling out of her, my cock throbbed and twitched with need. But I had to fulfill another desire altogether.

“Get on your knees.” Without question, she moved onto all fours with her smooth, round ass facing me.

“Like this?” she questioned seductively, leaning over for me even more.

“Do you like to be smacked as much as you enjoy smacking me?” I ran my hand over her ass softly.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Who was this? The Amelia I remembered was so shy when we first had sex…but then again she was sixteen then.

SMACK.

Her hands clenched the sheets as her body shivered.

“It seems like I got my answer,” I whispered, moving her hair back over her shoulders.

She swallowed, taking a deep breath. “So what are you going to do now?”

SMACK.

SMACK.

“Fuck,” she cried out, dropping her head. I rubbed circles onto her now-red ass.

“We will get to that, but I want to see how much of this you can take.”

SMACK.

Her legs quivered under her.

SMACK.

She panted, her body rising and following with each deep breath.

SMACK.

“Harder.”

SMACK.

I felt the ache in my hand that time. But she still didn’t tell me to stop. Her ass was so red I was sure she would have begged me to end it. Instead, she bit her lips, and her eyes shifted to me, daring me to do it again.

“Again.”

SMACK.

SMACK.

“Ah!” She cried out. “Please…please fuck me.”

She didn’t have to ask a second time. Kissing both of her red cheeks, I grabbed her waist and slid into her, my eyes rolling back at how much wetter and tighter she was for me.

“God, you are amazing,” I told her, thrusting deeply into her as I kissed her back.

“So…good,” she said as she came for me.

Again, all I heard were our moans and grunts.

I can’t take this anymore. 

 I had been hard for her from the moment she kissed me. It had taken all my strength to hold back until now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I grunted as I thrust, coming at last.

I collapsed onto her. We were both covered in sweat, breathing in the scent of our sex. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I was going to do. It had taken me almost a decade of mindless and meaningless sex to get over my addiction to her…and now I was back to square one.

Amelia

Rolling onto my stomach, I knew he was awake, even though neither of us had spoken in the last hour. We’d just laid there still and naked in his bed. We may have had sex, but that solved none of our problems. I wanted to ask him what this meant for us now, but I was scared of the answer. So I asked something else entirely.

“What are the pills for?”

He was silent for a while, but that was fine. I had time. Finally, he sat up and sighed. I could hear him sitting up, but I didn’t turn to face him.

“I was diagnosed with panic disorder a few years ago,” he whispered into the darkness.

“That’s why you went to rehab?”

“I tried to get off the pills on my own and ended up having an episode. We’d thought it was better to use as a cover—”

“You’d rather people think you were on cocaine or something.”

“Anxiety isn’t exactly sexy, Amelia.”

Rolling back over, I glared at him. He reached for a pack of cigarettes on his nightstand.

“So to protect your bad-boy image, you’re willing to let people think you’re a drug addict.” He was such an idiot!

Lighting his cigarette, he shrugged. “Don’t blame me. Blame society.”

Reaching over him, I took the cigarette before he could hit it again, but he grabbed my hand.

“It helps to relax me,” he said seriously.

“It also helps lung cancer.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry—”

“Just because you tell me not to doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Sighing, he took the cigarette back and put it out on the nightstand. “Happy?”

Frowning, I laid back down.

Silence again.

There was just so much between us that it was hard to know where to start.

“Why do you hate Noah Sloan?” I questioned, even though it was weird talking about in him the third person.

He didn’t answer, but he did reach for another cigarette.

I didn’t bother asking him another question. I quietly watched him smoke naked beside me.

What were we now? I had no idea.

Would he hurt me? Most likely.

Would I still love him anyway? Yes.

Should I? No.

But what could I do? Even though I knew all this could blow up in my face at any moment, I still didn’t want to move. I really was a masochist.

Chapter Seven

Amelia

Six.

That’s how many days have passed since Noah and I slept together. I wanted to think it was just a coincidence that this week he and I were filming in separate locations within the city. But it didn’t feel like it. It felt like I was being avoided. He hadn’t left me in the morning like I had expected him to, but neither of us spoke. We just got ready to leave since we woke up late. Ollie was already waiting outside the door, less than pleased with me, but I didn’t care. I was waiting on Noah. Even now, when we were finally in the same room, there was tension between us. I stood on the other side of the studio booth, watching as they gave him a pair of headphones along with his script for the voiceovers we needed to do. He lifted up the page in front of him, reading over it only once before nodding to the director sitting at the soundboard.

“Start whenever you’re ready, Noah.”

Finally, his eyes stopped on mine, and he froze like he had seen a ghost…or the last person on earth he ever wanted to see.

“Noah?” the director shifted, confused. He glanced between us. Not wanting to distract him, I tried to leave, but the director stopped me. “Amelia, I’d like you to hear this. In this monologue, Damon is speaking to Blair. It will be good to catch your reaction right afterward, so go inside.”

I peeked back at Noah, but he was no longer looking at me. Inside, he adjusted this headphones as the sound coordinator handed me mine. I stood right across from him, a microphone the only thing between us now. Clearing his throat, he began.

“The scariest mask you will ever see is the face I was born with. Yes, it’s true: I could never dream at night before I met you. Around me, there was nothing but silence under the gaze of the full moon hovering in the center of darkness. The wind didn’t howl. The clouds never gathered. The stars were hidden … and then you appeared, and I didn’t need stars because you were like the sun. But the longer I stayed near you, the dimmer and darker you became. My demons became your demons because you try so hard to save me when it is so clear I’m meant to drown.” He paused, clenching his teeth. His hands gripped the small podium between us. He continued, “You’ve gotten too close, and now I’m hurting you because I don’t want to hurt you. You can’t take this much longer. So even though I promised not to, even though I don’t want to, I’m letting go because I have to. You’ll always be burned into my mind, stitched to my soul, and the owner of my heart, Ame—Blair Calliope Hawthorne.”

When he was done, I let go of the air I was holding in my lungs. It’s not me. He isn’t really talking to me. However, until he said Blair’s name, I just kept seeing him as Noah in front of me.

“Noah, do you mind repeating the last sentence?”

Nodding, he pinched his nose, took a deep breath, and repeated the line. “You’ll always be burned into my mind, stitched to my soul, and the owner of my heart, Blair Calliope Hawthorne.”

“Perfect. Now, Amelia, you’ve just gotten Damon’s letter. We are at the close of the movie, so you aren’t talking to him, but to the audience.”

I had to pick up the paper to read it over once more. My mind was blank again.

Screw it.

“Zane,” I said, as I held onto the headphones.

“Yeah? What’s the matter, Amelia?”

“Do you mind if I go off script here a little bit? I just don’t feel like Blair would respond like this. I can do the scripted version afterward if you like,” I said, my eyes never looking away from Noah’s. He lifted his eyebrow like he was tittering somewhere between amused and confused.

“Fine, go ahead.”

Nodding, I tried to find a confidence I didn’t have, to stand up straighter, almost ignorantly so. However, I couldn’t do it staring at him, so I closed my eyes and began.

“He’s one smooth-talking son of a bitch, ain’t he? He wants to break up. Yeah, sure! No hard feelings. I’ve been trying to leave this fool for years. After all, I’m good at being alone. You heard him: I’m the sun! I shine brighter than any other goddamn person. Why doesn’t anyone ever bother asking the sun if it likes being the sun? If it likes planets always orbiting around it and never near it, if it enjoys being so hot that you can only love it from a distance. What’s so good about being the fucking sun if you’re alone in the sky? I’m done with this analogy. Don’t label me. Don’t make choices for me. If you love me, then you love me even if we self-destruct! That’s what I’m going to say to him when I see him. I don’t know how far he’s gotten, but the thing about Damon and I is that we’re always going down the same road. Sometimes I have to speed up to catch up to him…but I always catch up.”

When my eyes opened again, Noah was staring at me, but not like before. He wasn’t confused or amused. I wasn’t sure what he was, but he didn’t look away.

“Amelia…that was remarkable,” the director’s stunned voice replied directly into my ear.

“Thank you. Is there anything else?”

“No. All that’s left are the sex scenes to shoot,” he reminded us. Ollie had arranged that we would save those scenes for last, and we were finally here.

“Okay, I’ll rest until call time. Thanks, everyone,” I said, taking off my headphones. I grabbed my script without looking at him. I just walked away. It wasn’t like we could talk in there anyway. I had planned to come to his room again tonight.

I wasn’t expecting him to follow me out to the lobby.

“Amelia.” He grabbed my wrist, spinning me back to face him. “Wait, I—”

“Amelia!” said another voice.

Oh no….no. No. No. I knew that voice anywhere.

“Mom?” I looked back. She stuck out like a pig among wolves in a bright green cocktail dress with white gloves and a sun hat, even though it was September.

“Amelia, sweetheart!” She ran up to me, pulling me into a hug.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Why? I told her not to come. I all but begged her. I should have known better.

“Oh, I missed you, and besides…” Her voice trailed off as her attention focused on Noah. “If it isn’t little Noah Sloan. Well maybe not, ‘little.’” Her eyes traveled up the length of his body. She looked like a dog staring at a bone.

“Mom!”

“I’m just kidding…jeez.” Turning to address him, she asked, “How are you, Noah? It’s been ages.”

“I’m fine. Amelia…I…ugh…you and your mother should spend time together. Call time isn’t until nine, so I’ll see you then.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I wanted to laugh because it reminded me of the old him. He never knew how to talk to me when my mother was around. He’d either be really polite or just run off. But I didn’t blame him. If I could run, I would.

“Perfect!” My mother clapped her hands. “Amelia, let’s have a spa date.”

Let’s not, I wanted to say. However, I found myself walking away with her, even when I really wanted to go to him.

“You’re not seeing him again, are you?” she asked, linking her arm with mine.

“What?” I stopped before we got the doors.

“Ollie told me you were having a hard time—”

“Why are you talking to Ollie?” I questioned.

“I was just calling to check up on you—”

“Then you call me!” I snapped, pulling my arm from hers. “If you want to check up on me, Mother, you call me, not my manager and not anyone else.”

“Sweetheart.” She gave me the evil eye, taking my hand again. “People are watching. Let’s not make a scene. I’m didn’t want to bother you. I know you tense up whenever I’m around, so I thought Ollie was the next best choice. Besides, I’m your mother. Shouldn’t you remember to call me? I’m sorry, okay? I really miss doing this stuff with you. It sucks. You went and grew up on me too quickly,” she added, wiping the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I just don’t know when you’re being my mom and when you’re being my other manager.”

“Sweetheart, I’m always your mom. Now stop frowning. You’ll give yourself wrinkles, and then how will you find work?”

“Mom!”

“Kidding! I’m just kidding!” she laughed, pulling me into a hug. “Sort of.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I hugged her back as she reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of cat-eyed white sunglasses. She looked so ridiculous I could only laugh, but laughing with her felt good.

Noah

Despite what I said to her when we first met again, I never thought she couldn’t play Blair. I just never wanted her to for several selfish reasons.

First, I wasn’t over her. Being in a movie with her would only make it harder for me…and I was right.

Second, there was no way in hell I was comfortable with anyone else seeing her naked.

Third, Damon and I had similar desires, so it wouldn’t be acting for me. The moment I saw her, I wouldn’t be able to see her as Blair Hawthorne.

I knew where every freckle on her body was, and I had memorized each one of her curves. When it came to sex, I could barely control myself. Now, for the sake of a movie, I was going to be pushed to do things I had only dreamt of doing to her.

The director said he wanted this to be tasteful, that it wasn’t pornography. But that just proved how naïve he was. Did he think I could tie her up, punish her, kiss her, and suck every inch of her and make that look tasteful? Sex was not tasteful. Sex is, if you’re doing it correctly, pornographic.

“Noah…it’s 9:00 a.m.” Austin opened the door of my room. We were shooting the scene in the same hotel we were staying in, only this time in the penthouse suite.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Excited to have her.

Annoyed others would see her.

So fucking confused.

But “fine,” was all I could say. In the back of my mind as we rode the elevator up, I could see her face glaring at me for saying “fine” again. But what else could I say? No one ever wanted to know the real answer. No one, maybe, with the expectation of her.

“Penthouse suite,” an automatic voiced recited once the doors opened. I was expecting at least a dozen or so people. However, it was only the director, a nurse, two camera and sound technicians, a makeup artist, and Amelia’s manager.

“Like we promised, we kept the crew as small as possible,” the director said to Oliver.

“I’m going to excuse myself as well. If she needs anything, please have her call me,” Oliver responded, leaving a small bag, a bottle of water, and her favorite gum on her chair. He didn’t acknowledge me when he walked by, nodding only to Austin before he entered the elevators.

“Is Amelia ready?”

“Yes,” she said as she appeared from what I could only guess was the bathroom on the other side of the living room. She was dressed in a white cotton robe. Her dark brown hair fell down in loose waves over her shoulder. The dark pink lipstick and light eye shadow, Blair’s signature, made her look less sweet—as I had always known her—and more sexual.

The director took a step forward “Amelia, if you feel uncomfortable at any time…”

“I’ll use the safe word?” she replied.

“Amelia. Seriously,” I said to her.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Guys, thank you, I got it. Okay. Let’s start. With any luck, we can get these down with one take.”

“Alright, everyone, places,” said the director.

Pulling off my shirt and throwing it to Austin, I offered her my hand, which she didn’t take. Instead, she held her head up high, the smile never once leaving her face as she walked toward the bedroom. She had that same confidence this morning when she delivered one of the best monologues I’d heard in a long time. Even the scriptwriter couldn’t complain. She only wondered why the hell she hadn’t thought of it herself.

“This is scene twelve, Damon ties Blair,” the director stated as someone handed me the red rope.

“I hoped you practiced,” she said, undoing the belt of her robe. With one small action, it fell to the ground.

Jesus….I cannot do this. Instinctively, I stepped in front of her, blocking her body with mine. It would only work until we started, but still.

“So is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ on the practicing?” she questioned casually. However, my eyes were glued to her breasts, remembering how perfectly they fit into my hands just a few days ago. “Noah?”

“Yeah…I’ve done it before,” I replied. Shit. I hadn’t meant to tell her that.

Biting her lip, she nodded, and I could see her chest rise anxiously. Closing the distance between her and myself, I cupped her cheek.

“No one else in the room but us, right?” she whispered.

“Yeah, no one but us…” I agreed.

“Amelia, once we start, just follow the guidelines from the stage directors,” the director shouted, and I was tempted to beat the shit out of him.

“Ignore him and follow my lead, okay?” I told her.

“So just keep doing what I’ve been doing?” she asked, snickering.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, slowly I turned her around. “BDSM isn’t about pain. It’s about pleasure. None of this is to hurt you or make you feel scared. But it is going to feel odd at first. The more you trust me, the better it will feel.”

“Action.”

Any restraint I had died with that one word.

“What am I going to do with you, Blair?” I whispered, kneeling beside her, brushing her hair to the side, and kissing the nape of her neck.

“Why ask questions you already know the answer to?”

Dropping to her knees and placing her hand behind her back like the script instructed, I took a step back, breathing in through my nose, trying to calm myself down—but it was hopeless. The curve of her back, her ass, everything about her made me hard.

Holding her wrist in place, I fed the rope between both of her arms, ignoring the camera that panned in to focus on every moment. Her body arched forward the higher I went, securing the knots as I worked.

“Ah…” she gasped, but I didn’t stop.

Amelia and Blair both knew their safe words.

Amelia

I’d never felt anything like this in my whole life.

My skin was as hot as fire, and I couldn’t stop moaning.

I couldn’t move. My arms and chest were bound, but it was more than that: it felt as though my whole body was competently under his firm control.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now,” he said, relaxed in the chair before me. In one hand was a glass of champagne, and in the other was a leather riding-crop. Rising to his feet, he downed the drink, threw the glass to the side, and held my neck. Lifting my chin, he kissed me hard. I could taste the champagne on his tongue, and I wanted more.

“Ah!” I gasped when he beat my nipple.

“Don’t be greedy,” he teased.

“Again,” I begged biting my lip.

He forced me to stare into his eyes, smirked, and said, “No.”

“Master, please—”

Slap. It stung, but it also felt amazing.

“Who gives the orders here?” he asked.

“You.”

“Who?” he demanded again.

“You!”

Like a wolf around a sheep, he circled me, his whip gliding over my skin in between the ties of the rope. When he got to my nipples again, slap.

I was so wet, so horny, I wanted to cry out in frustration.

With one gentle push, I was on my side, watching as he stared down me hungrily, his whip gently—almost like a feather—working up from my toes, legs, and thighs. Then he rounded the curve of my ass.

Slap.

“Master—”

“Shh…” was his only reply as the whip found its way between my thighs. “Spread your legs.”

I followed his order. Anything he wanted in that moment, he could have had.

“Look how wet you are, Blair.”

Slap.

“Oh!” I gasped as pleasure ripped through my body so forcefully that I clenched my legs shut.

“I’m not done yet. Open them,” he demanded, but I couldn’t. “It’s only going to hurt you more, baby, to go against me. Open. Them.”

I did.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

He didn’t stop his assault on my pussy, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. It was so fucking good. Shamelessly, I spread my legs even wider, wiggling with need on the carpet.

“Why do you torture me, Blair?” he whispered, kneeling between my legs. “I can’t hold back any longer.”

Excited, I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me. However, that never came. He was above me, and I could feel his hard-on pressed up against me with only his boxers to separate us. He thrust forward, his eyes never leaving mine. We were acting. I had forgotten so quickly. Even hearing him call me “Blair” didn’t bring back reality. It was the fact that he couldn’t actually fuck me. I was annoyed, but I couldn’t let it show on my face.

Damn it! Screw Damon. I wanted Noah, now.

Noah

I’d never experienced as much torture in my whole life as I did this evening.

The moment our shoot ended, I was only strong enough to grab her robe and put it over her before leaving. I didn’t care what the director or anyone had to say. I needed to fuck.

And as if God had heard my prayers, my phone buzzed.

“Your room ten minutes.”