When Stars Burn Out

by Carrie Aarons

He’s eating me alive, his teeth scraping against my swollen nub and nearly sending me over the edge. I see his right hand disappear, and then his muscles beginning to work. I realize he’s jerking himself, as he feasts on my body, and it’s so hot that my orgasm steals over me before I can even take a lungful of air in.

  I writhe, gripping the edge of the counter to keep upright, or from collapsing and hurting myself. My climax is white hot, making my vision fuzzy as every limb sings with ecstasy.

  I’m barely conscious when Pax stands, grabbing me and moving to the wall. Instinctually, my legs come around his waist, and I press my lips into his neck, awaiting the invasion.

  It comes with a burn and two groans of pleasure, echoing through the dark, silent house.

  Pax isn’t gentle. He impales me, up against that wall, the same exquisite feeling that I felt all those years ago coursing through my body. He whispers in my ear as he fucks me, and that’s what it is, fucking.

  “Your pussy feels like a fucking vise.”

  “Scream for me, baby.”

  “Who is the only one who knows how to fuck you?”

  And while he talks dirty to me, he grips my neck, looking me straight in the eyes.

  It’s lust, but it’s also love.

  And Paxton is the only man I’ll ever feel both for.

  Thirty-Two

  Demi

  “Sweetheart, why don’t you change the paint color in here? A nice pop of yellow would really brighten the place up.”

  My mother walks around my office, examining every nook and cranny. And driving me up the wall that she wants to guilt me into painting sunshine yellow.

  “I like my whites and beiges, but thanks, Mom.” I turn my head back to my computer, furiously checking for any reason to excuse myself and get back to work.

  Every other week, she’d bring me lunch from my favorite Jewish deli near their house, and I loved the food and her company.

  For about an hour and a half.

  Anything after that and I was grasping at straws to get her to leave. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom to death, but her nagging can wear on me.

  My staff has no idea what I’m talking about. Whenever she comes in, she has a hug and a piece of candy for each of them. Sometimes she brings the entire office lunch, and regales them with stories that they roll on the floor laughing at.

  “Paxton says hi, by the way.” She slides this into the conversation as if it’s as casual as saying that she’s taking up yoga.

  I nearly spit out the iced tea she brought for me. “What?”

  “Oh, yeah, I stopped over at his apartment earlier to bring him some fresh baked bread that I whipped up yesterday.”

  It’s official, my mother is smitten with my gentile boyfriend.

  “Mom, you can’t just …” I laid my head in my hands.

  I loved her, would do anything for her. But her nagging and meddling was going to give me a migraine. Not that anything was wrong between Pax and I, but … I’m not sure. Maybe I didn’t feel like bringing anyone too close to us yet, because we were enjoying each other’s company so much. I wanted to stay in this honeymoon phase a little bit longer, before we started coming home and complaining about work, or traffic, or why there were dirty dishes in the sink.

  “What? I don’t get what the big deal is, Demi! He’s part of your life, so I want him to be part of ours. And he doesn’t mind, we sat down and chatted for almost two hours. He told me about his parents, and his retirement … he’s a very sweet boy, you know.”

  I did know, and I had to smile because my mother could get anyone to talk. She could probably get those stoic guards outside of Buckingham Palace to talk, and it was part of their job description not to. But I also didn’t want her finding out about our past, in college. Perhaps one day I would tell her, but not now.

  “What did he say?” I was actually genuinely curious about what he’d divulged to her.

  “We talked about the accident some, but mostly about what his parents instilled in him as a child. And oh, he definitely wants to have children after he hangs up his cleats this year.” She winked at me as if I should start tracking my ovulation cycle in anticipation.

  “Mom, oh my God …” I couldn’t do anything but laugh.

  “I think you should have three, how wonderful would it be to have all those little bubbalas running around?!” She claps her hands together as if she can just picture it now.

  I have to admit, I can see it too. A future, a family, with Pax. Little blond-haired boys rough housing in the yard, learning how to play football from their father. A girl who looked just like me, lying in my arms as I read her a book. It sounded like exactly what I wanted out of life.

  “That would be pretty wonderful,” I tell Mom, because it’s impossible not to get swept up in her jubilation.

  “That’s how I know this is the one. That Pax will be the man you marry.” She walks over and kisses me on the nose.

  “How?”

  “Because even when you’re annoyed with me, you still had a smile on your face the whole time. You never did that with Zachary. That’s how I know.”

  My heart warmed, because she could see it too. “I told him about Ezra.”

  Mom stilled, and then patted me on the shoulder. Her eyes looked out the glass walls of my office building, down onto Charlotte, but I knew she was seeing the son she’d lost.

  “Good, you should share that with the person you love. He should know about our baby.” Her eyes are misty when she looks back at me.

  She pretended not to wipe her eye on her sleeve. “Now then, when is the next time I’ll see you both? I think I should lay claim to every single night, put it in your wedding vows. You’ll spend them with your father and I, because I’m your mother and I say so.”

  There was that Jewish guilt again, and Mom was the expert at it.

  I stood and enveloped her in a hug, because while she could be a pest, I loved her fiercely. It was the kind of hug you gave your parent when you realized just how much they did for you, and how life would be drastically different if they weren’t the one who raised you.

  “Whatever you say, Mom. We’ll be there.”

  Thirty-Three

  Demi

  Watching Pax play in a football game from my couch, the announcers singing his praises on TV, brought me back to my college days.

  Only this time, when he scored a touchdown, he did the funny dance move he told me he would perform in this game especially for me. It looked like a bad imitation of Michael Jackson, and each time he did it, for the three touchdowns he scored, I giggled.

  They were playing away for the championship game that would secure their place in the Super Bowl, and I was upset I couldn’t go, but we were fulfilling an extra special wish this weekend that I didn’t want to miss.

  One of the cases we’d been working on for a while, granting the dream of a teenage girl with Lupus, had finally come to fruition. She wanted to meet one of Hollywood’s It Girl actresses, the same one who was the star of those tween movies about vampires that netted millions at the box office.

  I had worked tirelessly to not only make the hang out happen, but it just so happened that a part of the next movie was being filmed in a remote location just outside of Charlotte. I’d scored her an entire day on set, watching and hanging out with the It Girl while she filmed.

  And if I was being honest, I loved the movies too and wanted to be there all day to watch her dream come true and get a little inside information on the next installment.

  Paxton understood, but he was upset his lucky charm wasn’t going to be there. So, he’d taken a pair of my underwear, sprayed in my perfume, for good luck. I had tried to wrestle them away from him, embarrassed that they would be sitting in his suitcase, but he had insisted.

  “Our dirty little secret.” He’d winked as he said it, and I had flushed but let him keep them.

  I patted Maya on the head as she slept in my lap, all seventy pounds of her, and took a sip of chamo
mile tea. As much as I missed Pax, it was nice to have a single girl’s night by myself. I’d been spending so much time with him, since we were practically living together now, that I missed some of my alone time.

  Life was immeasurably better now that Pax was back in it, but I missed being able to sit around in my ugliest, but comfiest, sweatpants, eating pickles wrapped in turkey, or a whole plate of Pillsbury cinnamon buns with no one looking. I missed binge watching Downton Abbey marathons, or staying up until four in the morning finishing a good book without someone rolling over and telling me it would be a good idea to go to bed.

  And this weekend, I had gotten to do all of those things. It filled my weird single person behavior tank for a while so that I could go on being in a committed relationship without feeling like climbing the walls.

  The game ended, the sound of the whistle and a bunch of fans cheering coming from the speakers in my TV. I clapped too, so freaking excited that the Cheetahs won and that Pax would be going to the Super Bowl. He deserved this, to go out on the highest note possible.

  An hour and a half later, my phone rang, Pax’s picture and number flashing on the screen. I’d shamelessly set his photo in my contacts as a shirtless one from a spread in a sports magazine from a couple of years ago. Sure, it might be awkward if it ever rang in a business meeting, but damn did it make me drool while I was in private.

  “Are you excited we’re going to the Bowl?” Pax sounded so excited.

  “Well, I’m more excited that Demi Lovato will be performing the halftime show …” I teased him.

  “Oh, stop! You know you can’t wait to wear my jersey and kiss me as I raise that Lombardi trophy.” I could hear the wind whip past the speaker of his phone as he walked outside somewhere.

  “You played so great, babe. I especially loved the horrible dance moves.” I curled my feet under me, getting more comfortable to talk to him for a while.

  I missed him.

  “You liked that, huh? The press sure did, trying to ask where that little bit of spontaneity came from. I miss you, gorgeous.” He spoke my inner thoughts.

  “I loved it. I love you. I’m so excited! So is Maya, although she slept through the second half of the game. But she sends her love.” I look at the dog snoring on the other end of the couch.

  “Kiss her for me. I’m back at the hotel now, how about you just fly out and be on the bed when I open the door?” I hear the ding of an elevator in the background.

  As much as I had enjoyed being home alone, I was done now. I wanted to be in bed with him, too. “Oh, how I wish. But we can stay on the phone all night. And you’ll be home in the morning.”

  I hear the automatic lock of a hotel room door, and then the closing of one. “But I’m alone in my hotel room and I’m horny.”

  My thighs suddenly felt like I needed to rub them together, like tingles were moving through my core that I had to alleviate. “Oh, are you?”

  “I am. Getting undressed all alone. In the dark. No one to rub my aching body.” I hear Pax unbuckle his belt, the shuffling noise of clothes coming off.

  I lean back into the couch, my breasts suddenly aching for his touch. “So, pretend I’m there. Naked, in bed waiting for you.”

  We’ve both silently agreed to play this game. It feels a little dirty, a little explicit, and oh so good.

  “I’m sliding into bed now, God, Demi, I’m so hard for you.”

  I’m fully reclined on the couch now, my hand resting on my stomach, quivering there. “Do you want me to touch myself for you?”

  “Fuck yes. Put that hand down your pants, baby. Finger yourself and think of me stroking myself here to the sounds of you getting off.”

  Oh lord, could that man set my skin on fire. I breached the waistband of my pants, gliding my hand down until I felt my slick center.

  “Pax,” I moan, stroking through my folds the way I know feels good. “Talk to me. What do you want to do to me?”

  I hear his sharp intake of breath. “I want to lie you down on the bed, completely naked in the moonlight so that I can see all of that beautiful skin. Your nipples, so hard and ready for me to suck. The scent of your arousal, God, I’d stick my tongue right in there.”

  My breaths are so shallow, my hand working my swollen nub over and over in a circular motion. “You’re making me feel so good, Pax.”

  “I want you to come for me, baby.” His breathing is ragged in my ear. “I’m stroking so hard for you, I’m so close to squirting all of this cum out for you. Just imagine me buried deep inside of you, pounding your pussy—”

  His use of that dirty word puts me over the edge, my climax bursting through me like an unfiltered beam of light. Blinding and fast, roaring through my system. The sounds I make are inhuman, not of conscious thought.

  As I wind down, I’m acutely aware of Paxton grunting loudly over and over into the phone. After a minute or two of us catching our breath, he speaks first.

  “If our phone sex can be that hot, I can’t wait to get home to you tomorrow.”

  I chuckle. “Well, Maya got a hell of a show, that’s for sure.”

  I can hear Pax’s smile through the phone. “That’s why we always lock her out of our room, can’t have the dog cockblocking us.”

  Thirty-Four

  Paxton

  I hit the ground hard, the cold indoor turf hitting my back as I suck in a breath.

  “Are you trying to fucking kill us?” Connor dry heaves, collapsing beside me.

  “Only trying to get you fucking ready for the Super Bowl. Or do you not want to win a ring?” Anthony cackles, putting his notebook down, and I hope that means we get a bit of a break.

  The Cheetahs made the playoffs, and then we made the NFC championship, and then we won. I can’t say I’m surprised, our team is really fucking good. But … there is something in my bones. It feels the same as the three other times I’ve been in this position, and with the sun setting on my career, some kind of fated feeling is settling over me.

  Little does anyone know though, that I’m not coming back next year. Whether we win or lose, I’m hanging up the jersey, I’ll have seen my last fifty-yard line.

  “Yeah, I want the ring. I also want to be able to walk onto the field in two weeks, too.” Connor pouts, gulping down the contents of his water bottle. “Hey, man, congratulations by the way. A little boy, huh?”

  Anthony smiles and inclines his head at Connor. “Thanks, bro, we are really excited.”

  “What’s that?” I’ve been so caught up in Demi that I’ve missed some of our training sessions, opting to workout on my own to get home to her quicker.

  “My wife and I are expecting again, a little boy in June.” He beams, and you can feel the pride coming off of him.

  “Congratulations, man, that is awesome.” I pat him on the shoulder, and inside a pang of jealousy ripples through my stomach.

  Not because I want Anthony’s life, but because I want to have a child. I shouldn’t have wasted so many years, shouldn’t have been so selfish. Now I’m retiring, and I feel like I’ve put my life on hold for this sport with nothing to show for it but some silly rings and bragging rights.

  Do I think Demi would go for letting me knock her up tonight?

  “Damn, I can’t imagine having a kid, though.” Connor shakes his head as if I need to explain the birds and the bees to him.

  “That’s because you are a kid. I can’t imagine you having one either.” Anthony laughs.

  “Like, what do you feed a kid? It’s not like a dog, where the food is clearly labeled in the store and you just pour it in a bowl on the floor twice a day. Hell, I can’t even do that. It’s why I don’t have a dog.” Connor keeps going.

  I have to crack up at that one, because he is so clearly out of his league in this conversation. “Note to self, never ask you to babysit.”

  “Why, you thinking about getting that fine-ass woman of yours pregnant?” He winks at me.

  Actually, it was what I was just thinking about.
“Maybe … in the future.”

  “Damn, you don’t mess around, Shaw.” Connor whistles.

  Anthony studies me, because he must know the look on my face. “Yeah, he wants to knock her up. Right now, if I’m correct. I’d know that face anywhere; it’s certainty. I felt it when I met my wife, and I can damn sure tell that you feel that way about Demi. Just put a ring on it first, I’m a traditional kind of guy.”

  “Oh, I plan to.” I nod, and they both exchange a glance.

  What they also don’t know, aside from my retirement bombshell, is that I’d spent three hours at the most prominent jewelry store in Charlotte the other day.

  Only to leave empty handed because none of the rings had felt right.

  I called Dylan and asked him to go into the safe at our parent’s home and get Mom’s ring. He’d FaceTimed me to show me the ornate, rose gold antique … a family heirloom passed down through the generations. It had been my mother’s engagement ring and had been returned to us when she passed.

  I knew right then that it was meant for me to give to Demi. I’d had him send it to me, securely, and the box had arrived just three days ago.

  “Well, tell us what the plan is!” Connor semi-shouts, and they must have been staring at me longer than I realized.

  “Yeah, give us the romantic details,” Anthony chimed in.

  “This is what you guys want to talk about in our manly athletic facility, just weeks before the Super Bowl?” I avoided the subject, mostly because I had no idea what I was going to do yet.

  They looked at each other, and exclaimed at the same time, “Yes!”

  I shifted on the ground, picking a blade of fake grass. “Well, truth be told, I don’t know yet.”

  Looking up, they both had disappointed expressions in their faces.

  “Okay, well, what does she like? My wife, for instance, loves ice cream. So I had a pint made up, planted in the grocery store, and when we went to pick it out one night, I made sure she saw it. Then I got down on one knee right there in the middle of Whole Foods.” Anthony smiled.