Porn Star(12)

So I should probably explain to her why I just chucked a brand new phone into the water, and also maybe not reveal the fact that I have a massive crush on her.

I try to muster the casual, flirty guy I was earlier tonight. “Devi, I…”

I jack off to you almost every day.

“…I, uh, didn’t know anyone else was out here. Or I wouldn’t have, you know.” I mime throwing the phone.

She laughs and then bends down to unfasten her leather heel. “If it’s in a good case, it might still be okay,” she says. I watch, transfixed, as she kicks off both shoes, shimmies out of her shorts, and then walks to the edge of the pool. She’s wearing what legally might qualify as underwear, but only just barely.

Have I mentioned Devi Dare’s ass? Because I should. She has one of the best asses known to mankind. Plump and thick and juicy, the kind of ass that invites biting and squeezing, and the way it slopes out from her small waist is pure poetry. And those legs—despite the obvious muscles in her calves and thighs, they still move as she walks, like her ass does, and there’s something so healthy about it, so tantalizing about her body with its wide hips and slightly soft stomach and full breasts. She’s sexy in such a visceral, biological way, the kind of way that says you want to make babies with me. My cock lengthens as I watch her, tens of thousands of years of evolution telling me to haul her off and impregnate her.

She turns, hands on her hips. “Are you going to join me?”

“I was just enjoying the view,” I say, and it comes out a little too raspy, a little too honest, but then I follow it up with a weak grin, and then she laughs and jumps into the pool. With a final gulp of whisky, I put the cork in the bottle and then fling myself in after her, clothes, shoes and all.

The water is cool and it’s the best kind of contrast to the dry heat of the July night and the warmth of the scotch in my stomach—and to the new kind of warmth that’s agitating in my chest, something frictive and thrilling pressing up against my anger and my broken heart. Something that started the moment Devi brushed against my arm.

I jumped into the deep end, so it’s a few beats before my feet press flat against the bottom and I can push myself back up. I break the surface, sputtering, and awkwardly try to swim over to Devi with one hand still clenched around my scotch bottle. She treads water as steadily and gracefully as a water nymph, her long hair floating around her shoulders and her gold top drifting away from her skin, giving me just the barest glimpse of one nipple, dark rose and peaked into a tight furl. Water droplets cling to the thick fringe of her eyelashes.

“You’re not very good at swimming,” she points out as I make my way closer.

“Never liked it much,” I say, swimming past her and moving to where my feet can touch. With a sigh of relief, I set my feet down, examine the scotch bottle to make sure no pool water leaked in, and then take a long drink. I’m on my way to being drunk, and I’m intent on sealing the deal. What can I say? I’m a finisher.

Devi drifts up next to me, holding something in her hand. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my phone, the entire reason we spontaneously jumped into the pool in the first place. And somehow, miraculously, the pricey case the Apple Store girl talked me into buying has saved the phone. The screen still glows with my unwritten text message.

Somehow, between the pool and the scotch and Devi Dare with no pants on, I’ve lost the urge to talk to Raven. I take the phone and toss it carelessly onto the concrete and then turn back to Devi.

“You, on the other hand, seem like quite the swimmer,” I say with a smile, offering her the scotch. She takes it and raises the bottle to her lips.

“I was raised in California, you know,” she says and then takes a drink.

“Well, so was I. But my parents are Boston transplants, so I guess they never saw swimming as a priority for me.”

She hands the bottle back to me. “I think I had floaties before I had a bicycle. My parents are very, uh…” She searches for the right words. “Natural people. They think it’s important to be periodically cleansed of negative energy, and flowing water is one of the best ways to do that. So we went swimming at least once a week.”

I can see the faintest blush coloring the apples of her cheeks, as if she’s embarrassed by what her parents believe. And then I wonder if she’s embarrassed because she believes it a little too.

God, that blush is so sexy. I want to lick it right off her face. And then pin her down and lick her everywhere.

She tilts her head to the sky. “You can see Cassiopeia tonight.”

I look up, following her gaze, but I see nothing other than the golden glow hovering above the city and a smattering of faint, twinkling stars. “Is Cassiopeia a constellation?” I venture.

She laughs and nods, and then she reaches over and takes my head in her hands. My pulse thrums, that warmth in my chest explodes into flames, and I want her to kiss me kiss me kiss me, but before I can turn my head to her, she trains my face to the sky, facing the right direction this time.

“Do you see it?” she asks. Her mouth is close to my neck, and I wonder what it would feel like if she bit me there. “It looks like a letter M.” She traces the shape of it with her fingers, until finally I see it—an underwhelming handful of tired stars.

“You can’t see it this far into the city sometimes,” she continues.