My hips lift off the bed meeting her thrusts and she cries out, "Yes! God, Jesse, so good." I grunt and then moan when she swivels those fucking sexy as hell hips.
"Fuck, Lucy, I'm going to come." The telltale tingling at the base of my spine, spreading to my balls and the base of my dick tells me I can't hold out much longer no matter how hard I try.
I thrust hard and fast, meeting her downward thrusts, pounding into her, I press my thumb harder against her clit and circle once, twice and she throws back her head and moans out my name.
She's still got a hold of my nipple rings and as she leans back, coming hard, she tugs and I'm done. I start coming with a shout, the orgasm fierce and long, it just keeps going and then she comes again, her pussy clenching my dick harder and I see stars. I shit you not, stars.
"Holy fuuuuuuck," I groan.
"Oh yes, Jesse, I can't stop coming."
I can't take it. The pleasure is so fucking intense even when our bodies still and she lies on top of me, her pussy spasms and my cock twitches. I need to fuck her again. It's just not enough. I need more. And then I feel it.
"Shit, Lucy."
She sits up, noting my tone. "What?"
"I didn't wear a condom." What the fuck is wrong with me? "I never ever forget a condom."
She giggles. "You did this time. It was kinda my fault."
I grunt. Fuck. Nope, that's all on me.
"It's okay. I'm on the shot and I'm clean." She looks at me warily. "Um…"
"Fuck. I'm clean, Lucy. I just had a checkup and I'm good. Besides, I never fuck without wrapping up first."
"Except now," she says as I roll her over onto her back, my hips thrusting into her.
I nod. "Except now. I'd put a condom on but it's kind of like closing the barn door after the horse is out and holy shit does it feel good with you bare around me."
"You feel more?" she asks.
"Mhmm," I groan. "Condoms aren't all bad, but fuck, being able to feel your wetness around me, feeling the texture of your pussy walls; that gets dulled down with a condom. And your heat, damn."
I fuck her in slow, long strokes and she wraps her legs around my hips, locking her ankles at my lower back. In this position her head is even with my nipples and she leans up to lick one, tugging on the ring with her teeth.
"Lucyyyy," I moan.
"You feel so good, Jesse."
Her hips start to rise and fall, meeting up with mine, I take an extra second to grind my pelvis against her clit and it doesn’t take long before she's moaning, her head thrashing from side to side.
"Faster, Jesse."
"Nuh-uh. Just like this. It feels too fucking good to rush."
"Torture, you're torturing me."
"Torture by cock. You shouldn't complain, Cupcake, the way your pussy's squeezing my dick you're going to be coming soon."
"Mmm, I need to come now," she demands.
"Soon. Just let it happen, enjoy the feel of my cock sliding in and out of you, how your tight walls grip me." I thrust deeper, nudging her cervix and all I want to do is pound into her, fuck her hard and deep, but I want this to last. It feels incredible. Like hot, wet velvet wrapped around my cock.
"Jesse," she moans, "Oh yes, yes Jesse," she chants as I thrust deep and hearing her calling my name in that breathy tone of pleasure triggers my need to get her off. I start moving faster.
"Yesssss Jesse."
"I want to feel you come all over my cock. Squeeze me tight and make me come with you. Christ, you're so hot and wet. I have to--" I break off as I thrust faster, deeper, her hips meeting mine again, her swivels matching up with my pelvic grinds and she screams out my name, literally screams, "Jessseeeeee!" and damn if I don't feel like a god damn caveman because I want to pound on my chest knowing I did that to her. The tightening of her walls around me pulls me from all coherent thought and I hammer into her and come with a roar into her neck.
"Fuuuuuuck." I come hard and it keeps going on and on, each thrust releasing more cum and more pleasure.
When she collapses back onto the bed, I fall on top of her, our bodies still shaking from the strength of our orgasms.
"Holy fuck," she whispers.
"Yeah," I whisper through my pants.
"I think they heard me screaming," she says with a giggle. "I heard them cheering."
I laugh into her neck. "That was so fucking hot, Lucy. You screaming my name."
"It was so good."
I grunt as I get up and head to the bathroom to wash up. I grab a clean washcloth and wet it with warm water then fill a cup with cold water and grab some ibuprofen.
I get back to the bed and kneel next to her.
"Spread your legs."
She eyes me warily but complies.
"Damn if that isn't a pretty fucking sight. Our cum mixed and leaking out your pussy. I almost hate to wash it away."
"If you don't, you're laying in the wet spot," she says with a laugh.
I raise my eyebrows and hand Lucy the water and pills and she murmurs her thanks as I gently wipe between her legs until she's clean. I toss the washcloth into the hamper and crawl back into bed, snuggling up to her from behind, wrapping my arm around her and burying my face in her neck.
"Mmm," she wiggles back against me. "I'm sore again."
I grin against her neck. There's that caveman again pounding on his chest.
She lets out a sigh.
"What is it?"
"It's really going to suck when this ends."
"Who says it has to?"
She shakes her head. "It will. This won't be enough when you're out on tour and I'm touring somewhere else."
I grunt, not knowing what to say but hating that what she said might be true. Fucking hell. I can't imagine fucking anyone but Lucy, but when we're drunk out on the road… I let the thought drift. Unless… huh. That thought has possibilities that make me feel better, good enough to pull Lucy back tighter into me. I smile into her hair as I drift off to sleep listening to her really cute drunk snuffle snore.
***~~~***
She wakes up, bolting upright and running for the bathroom. I follow and hold her hair back just as she throws up. And damn does she throw up. I reach over with my free hand to wet a cloth with cool water and hold it to the back of her neck as she pukes and pukes and pukes. Her stomach is a never-ending pit, I swear. She only ate three pieces of pizza. Jesus. Where is it all coming from?
I flush for her as she catches her breath and moans. I press the washcloth to her forehead.
"I'm sorry, Jesse."
"No, Lucy. Don't be sorry. It's okay. I'm sorry you feel so shitty."
"It was my dream that triggered it," she tells me getting up on shaky legs. I lift her up onto the countertop and hand her a cup of mouthwash. She rinses, gargles, and spits. Then reaches for her toothbrush and toothpaste and brushes her teeth and tongue before rinsing her mouth.
"What was the dream?" I ask as she drinks a cup of water.
She sighs. "Fucking press conference. Nightmare."
"Damn, babe," I say, pulling her to my chest. "You really have a lot of anxiety over that, huh?"
"And then some. I'll show you," she says, "as soon as my wobbly legs get back to normal."
I chuckle. "You sure you're okay."
She nods.
"Up you go." I carry her to the bed.
"I need my laptop."
"Stay put. Where is it?" I ask turning on the bedside lamp.
"In the laptop bag over by the window seat." I nod and grab it for her. I hand it to her and she pulls out the laptop, booting it up. When she pulls out a case and a pair of glasses and puts them on. I can't hold back my surprise.
"Damn."
"What?" she asks, oblivious.
"All you need is one of those long tight skirts and a white silk shirt, and with those glasses you could be a naughty school teacher."
The glasses are retro-looking, kind of the cat frames from 1950s, a dark brown color, and she looks sexy as hell.
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She laughs. "You're such a perv," she says shaking her head and typing in her password.
"Wait. Hold the phone! What's your password?"
"Nevermind," she blushes.
"I saw it, I just want to hear you say it."
"Never," she laughs.
"Say it. You know you want to."
"I really, really don't."
"So, that's how much you love me, huh? I'm your password? Name and birthday. JKingston0121."
"Oh boy. Don't let it go to your head or you won't fit through the door."
I chuckle. "You're crazy about me, admit it."
"You drive me crazy, yes, that you do. Okay, here we go," she says changing the subject.
"What is this?" I ask as she pulls up a media file.
"My nightmare."
"Ah."
"Pardon me if I don't watch."
"You don't have to show me."
"I do. I want you to understand, about this anxiety. I'm really not being a baby."
I nod and she presses play. There she is, a younger version of Lucy standing behind a podium. She's smiling and reading from her cards. A bee buzzes around her head and she swats at it, lifting her hands and the wind takes her cards, blowing them all over the ground. I hear her gasp, but she recovers pretty well, looking nervous, wiping her hands on her skirt--then comes the Q and A portion.
They hammer question after question at her, not about her being in the movie that would go on to get her nominated for an Oscar, but rather about her being seen with the notorious womanizer she'd mentioned the other day. Question after question, even when she redirects them to the movie, they bombard her. I run a hand down my face.
"You can't be more than what, eighteen here?"
She nods. "It was only a couple months after we met, actually. I was young, unprepared, and obviously naïve."
"Where's your agent?"
"She'd got stung by a bee and she's allergic so she and my mom were inside the building giving her an injection so she didn't go into shock."
"Christ, Lucy. That never should have happened. It wouldn't have happened if--"
"Oh, I know, but it did. And every time I get up there in front of the press, they ask the personal questions even though I'm there for the professional ones. They don't care about my success or whatever movie I'm working on, they only care about anything that will humiliate or create drama."
I nod. Having seen more than enough, I turn off the video and power down the laptop.
"Now you understand."
I nod. "I didn't need to see that to support you and try to ease your anxiety, Luce."
"I know. I just wanted--needed you to see why I'm such a pathetic mess about this. I'm not as bad up there in front of them now, having walked the red carpet enough I've learned to talk around the questions I don't want to answer."
I nod. I would like to punch every one of those fuckers in the face, especially that one reporter. He was brutal. When she didn't give him the answer he wanted, he just kept asking and rephrasing until he was shut down by the other reporters.
"I'll be there, Lucy. I won't let that happen to you again. I promise."
She nods and takes her glasses off, putting them in the case, and setting it on the bedside table. I tuck her laptop into her bag and set it under the bedside table on my side and turn off the lamp.
"Come here," I pull her to me and she snuggles into me.
"What should I tell them, Jesse, when they ask about us?"
"What do you want to tell them?"
"Don't do that. Please. I'm asking you. We need to be on the same page with this."
I blow out a breath."As far as I'm concerned, you can tell them everything. If you want to tell them you're living with me and you're sleeping in my bed, I'm all for it. I don't have anything to hide and I don't plan on hiding you."
She nods. "Then if they ask if we're involved, I'll tell them yes."
"Good."
"If they probe too much, I will evade. They don't need to know the depth of our relationship, just that there is one."
"Right. They don't need to know that we have toe-curling, spine-tingling sex where you scream my name at the top of my lungs and our band members cheer," I say with a grin and she giggles. Again, besides her moans and now her screams, her giggles: Best. Sound. Ever.
I kiss the top of her head. "I'm okay with whatever you want to tell them."
She sighs. "Thing is, I'm comfortable telling them we're involved. What I'm dreading is when the time comes that you go your way and I go mine and they start in about that."
If my earlier thought pans out, that may not even be an issue, but I'm not telling her that until I know if it's even possible.
"Why don't we worry about what's going on now, now; and deal with later, later. I won't leave you to deal with that alone if that's what happens."
She nods.
We lay there in silence for a few minutes before she lifts her head and pushes my hair out of my face.
"I really like you, Jesse."
I smile and damn if I don't feel like a big pussy because my heart jumped in my chest when she said that.
"I really like you too, Lucy."
She smiles and snuggles back into my chest.
"So…" I say
"Hmm?"
"You found my nipple rings."
She laughs. "Oh, I found them before but you had me positioned in a way where I couldn't play with them."
I grunt. "That's true. That was one hell of a weekend."
"Mhmm. I want to get a tattoo," she says.
"Do you know what you want? Where you want it?"
"I do." She laughs. "I thought for sure you were going to try to talk me out of it."
"That'd be pretty fucking hypocritical of me, don't you think seeing as a large portion of my body is inked."
"Mhmm, but that doesn't stop some people."
I shrug. "You've got amazingly soft and flawless skin. It's beautiful as it is and it'll be beautiful if you choose to get ink."
She nods. "Thank you."
"I can set you up with my guy, the one that does all our ink."
"Really?"
"Sure. He's a fucking talented artist."
"I noticed, looking over your tattoos, and the guys'."
"Huh."
"What?"
"You should only look at mine," I say as jealousy rears its ugly head at the thought of her looking at another guy.
She giggles again. "You're so dumb. I just looked at their tattoos, I didn't stare at them like I do yours. I look at yours in a totally different way."
Well, that's better. Caveman, beating chest.
"Good. I like it when you only look at me," I tell her, rolling her to her back and brushing my lips over hers.
"Jesse," she says put her hand on my cheek. "There's no one else I want to look at."
I look down at her and my heart does that flip-flop thing again. I swallow hard and nod. I gaze into her eyes, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear then running my knuckles down her cheek.
"I only see you, Lucy. Only you."
Chapter Sixteen
Lucy
In spite of all the support I'm receiving from everyone, I'm a nervous wreck--it doesn't help that my mother called to tell me she would be at the press conference. Shit.
"Who was it?" Sera asks, walking out of the bathroom.
I sigh. "Mom."
"No." Her eyes wide, her mouth gaping.
"Oh yes, yes Regina will be there. God damn it! FUCKING COCKSUCKER!"
Jesse walks in chuckling. "She's swearing again," he says walking over to me, pulling me to him, and giving me a toe-curling kiss.
"Wow. Yeah," I say, my vision unfocused.
"Holy shit, Jesse," Sera says with a laugh. "You're magic. Your kisses calm her down and blank out her mind. It's awesome."
Jesse grins.
"She does the same thing to him," Ben says with a chuckle .
"Legit," Jes
se agrees and they fist bump.
"My mom is going to be there," I groan and throw myself on the bed face down.
"So what?" Ben asks.
"My mother is…"
"A bulldozer. A whirlwind. A tornado."
Ben nods. "Destroyer of all that is good?"
"And then some," Sera tells him.
"You've got an hour and we need to leave, Lucy," Jesse reminds me as they head into the media room.
"I know," I pout like a baby but I can't help myself. I don't want to do this. Don't. Want. To. If I stomp my foot, then my imitation of a three year old will be complete. Ugh. Suck it up, Luce. I walk to the bathroom and start applying my eye shadow when there's a knock at the door.
I walk over, enter the code, and on the other side stands my savior. I squeal, "Spenser!"
"Oh Lucy, I knew you needed me for this circus your mother's forcing on you."
"How did you know?"
He picks up the remote on the bedside table and turns on the TV where there's a picture of me, notes about a press conference, speculation about why I'm not acting anymore, speculation about Jesse, assumptions about everything.
Spenser flicks channel after channel. Same shit, different channel.
"Ugh, turn it off."
"Did I hear my name on the news?" Jesse asks coming out of the game room.
"You did. Get used to it, not that you aren't already, being the sexy super rockstar that you are," I say, rubbing my hand over his amazing ass.
He grins. "There's no time for that so don't get me started."
"No, there's not, so let's get started," Spenser scolds. I take a seat in a chair by the windows.
"No, dressed first," he motions to the bathroom. I look at him and notice he's carrying a dress bag.
"Okay."
He closes the door behind him and locks it. "Everything you need is in this bag including bra and panties, shoes. Get moving. We're short on time."
I strip my clothes off and toss them into the laundry hamper before putting on lacy lemon yellow boypants and a strapless yellow bra.
"Yellow?"
"Mhmm. Looks fab with your dark brown hair."
"Okay."
He pulls out a yellow dress and slips it over my head before I even get to look at it. He zips up the back and it fits like a glove.
I look in the mirror and gasp. This dress is gorgeous. It's some form of cotton/spandex/nylon blend that is stretchy and unbelievably comfortable. The scooped neckline lands just above my breasts showing just a hint of cleavage. The yellow and white polka dot cap sleeves are so short they could almost be considered straps. There's a line of polka dots along the hem of the dress which falls just above my knees. Next Spenser hands me a pair of sandals identical to the red ones I wore on the video shoot except these are yellow with white polka dots.