Porn Star(37)

“That’s not where you say it ends.” Logan’s lips tickle against me as he talks, and I shudder.

“No. It’s not. My father says that’s a foolish ending, told only as a moral lesson for those who fear worldly lust. He insists instead that the lovers remained star-crossed, even in death, and that they exist now as Venus and Jupiter, far, far apart in the night skies. But every now and then, they meet and spend a night of love and passion together before parting again at dawn. Like tonight.”

Logan stands up, but only long enough to fold my legs in toward my stomach. His eyes scan hungrily over my cunt. “Keep going.” His words are marinated in heavy desire. “You stop, I stop.”

“The story is over.” I sound desperate because I am. I don’t think I can take any more of his torture, but I’m certain I can’t stand it if he stops.

“Then tell me another,” he says, and so I do. I tell him another and another and another, dredging up every myth I’ve ever been told about the constellations and the planets and the balls of fire that flicker and flame above us until I release again. And then again. And I can’t talk anymore, drunk on coming. Drunk on Logan and this night and the poetry he’s written in my most private parts.

Still, he doesn’t let up.

I’m limp and sweat-soaked when he straightens and tugs me up to meet him. With his fingers still buried inside of me, his mouth finds mine, his lips are smeared with my wetness and his tongue is thick with my taste, and the kiss he gives me turns me inside out.

Soon he pulls away and mumbles at my ear, so softly that I wonder if he’s forgotten that he’s filming or if he’s just gotten too caught up to care, because there’s no way the camera is picking up these words. “You’re making me so hard, Devi.” He grinds against the curve of my ass, proving his point. “My cock is f*cking lead because of you.”

Unbelievably, this turns me on even more. I tighten around his finger, and he groans. “You should pay for this. For being such a tease. For making me this goddamned turned on.”

I close my eyes as yet another climax crests, but he jerks my chin up toward him.

“Look at me,” he says, and I do. His features are strained as if he’s the one close to orgasm instead of me. As if giving me pleasure is as intense for him as it is for me to receive. It’s shocking and thrilling and perfect and I can’t look away, both because he’s told me not to and because he’s too beautiful not to look at. Especially with his face framed by the night behind him, the tiny dots of stars twinkling like candles he’s lit just for me.

But the brightest lights before me are the twin sparks in his eyes as he urges, “give it to me. Give it to me.”

And then the stars are falling, shooting across his face, across my vision, and I understand why Juliet paired her thoughts of orgasm with Romeo cut up into stars and preserved forever as a constellation. Because I will now forever pair this bliss with Logan and the heavenly bodies above me now.

I’m gasping against his mouth, tears are falling from my eyes, and every muscle in my body is vibrating with this release—this orgasm so violent, so intense, that I’m sure my heart has stalled.

“Jesus, Devi! Yes! Yes.” He’s pleased. Excited by the potency of my climax. “More. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

I shatter around him, until I’m nothing, nothing, nothing,

I’m also desperate to do to him what he’s done to me, so when I’m able to move my limbs again, I sit up, into his kiss, and fumble to get into his pants. Eagerly, he gropes my breast, half climbing on top of me as he bucks against my hands, muttering for me to hurry with my task.

But before I even have his belt undone, red and blue lights streak through the now pitch black night, and the headlights of a police car land on the road beside us.

“Fuuuuck,” Logan says, sliding off of me. He turns away toward the camera and a second later I see the red record light disappear.

I sit up, and smooth my skirt over my thighs then run my fingers through my hair, so that I’m—hopefully—presentable by the time the cop gets out of his car and approaches us.

“Good evening,” he says in greeting.

“Hello, officer.” I give him my flirtiest grin. In my periphery, I see Logan pull down his shirt to cover his erection.

The cop narrows his eyes, surveying the scene in front of him. “What are you two doing out here tonight?”

“Just looking at the stars,” Logan says, turning to join the conversation. He points to the sky. “That’s Jupiter and Venus over there. Do you want to see my Wilderness Pass?”

“Not necessary.” The officer never takes his eyes off us. There’s no way he’s fooled. The scent of sex is clinging heavily to me, and I’m sure my hair is even more mussed than Logan’s.

With a knowing shake of his head, the policeman says, “It’s probably best you get moving on now.”

“Yep. Going.” Logan is already loading up the camera and tripod. I clean up the remains of our dinner, and within a handful of minutes, we’re in the Mustang, driving down the highway back toward the lights of the city.

And then another minute, and we burst into laughter. I laugh so hard my eyes water and my sides hurt by the time I can speak. “Wow. That was a first.” I wipe at the tears running down my cheeks.