Porn Star(34)

The part that’s supposed to be the end.

But it doesn’t end there. It goes on, and soon I’m watching Logan run after me—not once, but twice—and then he’s ravishing me on my doorstep in what I’m certain has to be the hottest kiss ever captured by a camera.

My heart sinks with disappointment—not with the speed of a comet or a falling star, but with the slow descent of a hot air balloon. It takes me a minute to process that the most utterly thrilling moment of my life so far has been tainted by its preservation. Because now I’m uncertain whether he ran after me for me…or for this.

I slump onto a dining room chair. He couldn’t have faked that kiss. It’s impossible. Isn’t it? He was definitely aroused—I know that for a fact. His cock was a steel rod through his clothes.

But this is his job. He knows how to deliver a kiss. He has his dick trained to respond, too.

And what does it matter if it wasn’t real? It looked real. That’s what’s important. Nothing else.

Logan must have assumed I’d watch the clip as soon as he sent it over, and he must have kept an eye on the clock, because not two minutes after I’ve finished, he’s texting me. Well????

I haven’t quite pulled myself together, and all I can think is to answer honestly. I didn’t realize you filmed the kiss.

I left the camera running in the car. It could have turned out like shit recording through the window, but doesn’t it f*cking rock?

He’s happy with the outcome—and he should be. It’s good! I just forgot for a moment that this isn’t a relationship; it’s a show. Anything else I thought it might be was just a misunderstanding on my part.

I text him what I should have said to begin with. It’s incredible, Logan. All of it. You’re so talented. Even I was convinced by the storyline.

Then I pull up Halsey on Spotify, turn my speakers on so the music will play via Bluetooth, and flip my phone upside down so the screen is facing the table and I can’t see it light up with calls or texts. It’s possible Logan will want more feedback or will want to chat, but he’ll have to wait. There’s laundry to put away and dishes to be done and a whole slew of “real” things that need my attention.



* * *



Tonight, let’s try to aim for oral.

I reread the text several times as I get ready for my next date with Logan. My stomach flutters like I’m in an airplane that’s taking off, and I have goose bumps in anticipation. I probably shouldn’t be this excited, but I’ve been looking forward to giving Logan head again since, well, since the last time I gave him head. Despite my disappointment over the last date’s footage, I’m psyched.

As I step out of the shower and towel off my hair, though, a voice inside asks, Are you sure getting excited is a good idea?

I wipe the steam from the mirror and stare at my reflection. “There’s nothing wrong with looking forward to going to work,” I tell myself. Especially when work is sex. “You just have to manage your expectations.”

Tonight, I expect that everything will be filmed, everything that happens will be for the show, and as long as I remember that, it’s going to be fun.

Satisfied with my pep talk, I use the night’s agenda to plan my wardrobe. Since it’s too hot for pants, I choose a short black skater skirt to wear paired with a loose blouse with spaghetti straps and a low neckline. My cleavage will look awesome when Logan looks down at me bowed before him. My knees are likely going to get scuffed or else my thighs are going to strain from squatting, but that’s fine—it’s part of the job.

It’s not until I start applying my makeup, and realize I’ve been grinning for almost an hour, that I start to reevaluate my anticipation. The thing is, it’s not just the sex I’m looking forward to. And it’s not just the job. It’s Logan—I’m looking forward to seeing him. I’m looking forward to seeing him a lot.

And maybe that’s a problem after all.

“This is fine,” I tell the Devi in the mirror. “It’s probably completely normal to have a crush on the first guy you had sex with on camera.” The only guy. And perhaps that’s the problem—I need more mainstream porn experience.

Logan’s project paid me a decent advance, but it’s a good idea to have something else lined up.

So when my agent happens to call a few minutes later with details about a lesbian shoot I have, I tell her I’m ready to book more. I’m ready to take the next step and commit to a hetero scene with Hagen. “Can you please make sure he’s aware of all my limits and restrictions?”

“Do you want me to give him the same guidelines you gave Logan?”

The honest answer is no. I want things with him that I want with no one else. Which is why I tell her, “Yes.” Because I need to treat Logan’s job like any other, and that means treating every other job just like it’s a scene with Logan.



* * *



Logan already has the camera on when I open his car door twenty minutes later. It’s propped on his dashboard, and the minute I slide in, he slips his hand behind my neck and pulls me toward him. His kiss is fire and salt, and I’m dizzy when he eases up.

“Hello,” he says, his mouth still against mine. “I think I’ll be needing to do that a lot tonight.”