Porn Star(63)

Figuring out how to turn someone on is like figuring out a math equation. How much of this will equal this? How many kisses before her breath gets shallow? How many flicks of my thumb over her nipple before it’s hard? How many strokes of her clit before her thighs start to tense?

Today, the math is easy because Kendi, in her role as teacher, is giving me all the answers. She’s telling me what feels good in words as well as body language. Naturally dominant, she’s good at this part, and I willingly submit, giving into the command of her soft lips and firm tongue invading my mouth. She tastes like mouthwash and the Skittles I saw her munching on before we started filming. Until she doesn’t. Until we’ve kissed so long, so deeply that our tastes have mingled and the only flavor in my mouth is want and pleasure.

We move through the steps of seduction organically, hands roaming over curves and slopes, under shirts, over cotton panties. Our clothes come off, and while I caress and grope the softest parts of her body, she makes love to my breasts, her tongue laving first one nipple then the other, turning them into sharp, rosy peaks.

I’m lost in delight. Before her fingers even find my clit, I’m wet and throbbing with need. Kendi’s a good lover, and I’m desperate for her to get me off. And, yes, I’d be into this no matter what, but I’m even more desperate for her because I know Logan is watching. Because I suspect that Logan is just as hot for this as I am.

If only I could watch him back…

But the cameras are on, and the story is just Kendi and me, so my eyes are pinned on her as her mouth roams lower and lower, as her tongue finds my most sensitive parts, as she brings me to delicious climax.

We shift positions, kissing for long moments before, at Lynne’s direction, Kendi turns me so my back is pressed up against her front. Her breasts push into my skin as she wraps herself around me so her hands can stroke my *. She swirls a fingertip across my clit, and when she slides her longest finger inside of me, I look up. I catch Logan’s eyes.

And the whole scene changes.

Logan is still as he watches, riveted, and the expression on his face is so wild and hot, so intense, so provocative, that I’m as transfixed as he is. I can’t look away. It’s Kendi who’s stroking me, Kendi who’s finger-f*cking me to orgasm, but all I can see is Logan. All I can think is Logan. All I can feel is Logan, Logan, Logan.

Images of the night before come back to me, vivid and alive. “Your * is so good.” The memory of Logan’s raspy words fills my head. The way he looked so greedy and driven and starved as he shoved inside of me. “I’m going to come so hard for you, going to come so f*cking hard…”

The memory transforms into fantasy, and the words I hear aren’t ones he spoke then, but ones I imagine he’s speaking to me now. Greedy, greedy girl, he says from across the distance.

Please, I beg. Put it in me. Put it in me now.

That’s not how I want you to come.

But I need you.

He’s unflinching. This isn’t about you right now.

And he’s right—this isn’t about me. I can see clearly that he is as swept away with this fantasy as I am, whether or not the words he hears in his head match the ones that play in mine. It doesn’t matter. We are in this together. This scene is about us. This moment is about us.

It could be like this, he tells me. Our world. Filming with each other, for each other. This could be the future you were looking for. This could be us.

I’m coming, my * throbbing, my hips stuttering as they buck against Kendi’s hand, my breath frozen as Logan encourages my climax. Give it to me, Devi. Give it to me, Goddess. Layla. Cass, the Queen of the Night.

The fantasy swells with my release, pieces of the puzzle shifting into place—the star I could be with him, the movies we could make, the art. How we could go on working together, how we could go on seeing each other. How we could go on…together.

I’m completely spent when it hits me—I don’t just want to make porn with Logan O’Toole; I want to make a life.





14





The scene goes long.

Lynne says it was too beautiful, and she couldn’t bear to call cut. “Absolutely the best thing I’ve seen from you,” she says, and I look past her to Logan, who has surely heard her, and I wonder if he knows, like I do, that he’s the reason my performance today was so superb.

I don’t have time to find out because now I’m running late for the scene that I have booked with LaRue, and I barely have a chance to gather my things and kiss Logan goodbye before I have to be on the road.

It’s not a long drive, and instead of using the little time I have to prepare mentally for the next scene, I spend it thinking about the one I just left. Thinking about last night. Thinking about Logan, and how he’s burrowed inside me, how I should have maybe built more walls to keep him out. How I don’t know what my career will look like now that he’s in my life. Wondering how I will ever be able to work again without him.

It’s not until I’m parked in the driveway of the mansion that LaRue has rented in the Hills that I finally pull my thoughts into focus and realize I’m about to film my first het sex without him. A male/female scene without Logan.

Oh shit.

Seriously, oh shit.

I’m being silly. I’ve done lots of scenes without Logan. I’ve had lots of sex that wasn’t with Logan. I can have sex now in a scene without Logan.