by N. K. Smith
“Do you even want this with me? I mean, I know the kinds of guys you’ve gone for, and I’m not like Oliver Jonas or Quin Houston. I don’t have either of their power. I’m not charismatic like Oliver, and I’m not some raw, organic soothsayer like Quin.” As I stand, I pull up my pants, then scratch my head as I turn to look at her. “I mean, are you just fucking me, or are we actually doing this? Having an actual relationship? Because it seems like all we do is stay closed off from the world, screwing.”
Cole moves to my side of the bed on her knees, slides her arms around my waist, and presses her head to my chest. “Yes, we’re in a relationship. I’m sorry if I go overboard on precautions, but I’m not in the habit of leaving myself vulnerable, and I don’t want you to be either. I want us to be together, which is why I’m so adamant you know what you’re getting into.”
“Someday I’m going to take you out on a proper date. We are going to walk into a restaurant holding hands, smiling, laughing, shoulders pressing together because we can’t stand any amount of physical distance between our bodies. And we’re not going to give a shit about who takes a picture.” I feel her nod against my chest, and finally I bring my arms around to encompass her. “When we start filming in New York, there’s no reason not to come out as a couple.”
“There’s every reason not to, Dev.”
I clench my jaw again.
“I don’t want to fight with you. Lie back down with me. We’ll deal with this another day, but let it go for tonight.” She pulls away, but holds my hands and gives them a tug. “Please?”
She looks tired, and I feel tired. I take my hands back and cup her face, then let them run down the curve of her neck to her shoulders. I slide them down over her arms, then back up to her breasts. I don’t pinch or grope, just lightly touch, before I follow the lines of her sculpted stomach. With my hands still on her hips, I connect my eyes with hers.
“I love you, Cole. I know you have experiences I don’t. They have forced you to mask who you are or how you feel, but you don’t have to protect yourself against me.”
Cole lowers herself down onto the bed again, and I follow. Her body presses against mine, her leg hitches over mine as her head rests on my bicep. She falls asleep before I do because my mind is restless with the fear of everything that could go wrong with us and the hope that nothing will.
Finally, when my body can take being awake no longer, I drift off next to her.
A few weeks after I signed the contracts for the next few films, Cole won’t look up as she talks to Liliana and me. I get the feeling something is wrong. It reminds me of when my parents disapproved of something I did and had to tell me how disappointed they were.
“You’ve both signed for the next movies, and that’s great, but a PR person from the studio will be coming by to give you the rules of conduct.”
Before I could, Liliana asks, “Rules of what?”
“It seems you both agreed to the terms, and so you’ll have to behave a certain way until the promotion of the final film is complete. You’ve agreed to lead the media and the public into thinking that you both fell in love on set.”
I did fall in love on set, but if I’m hearing her right, I’m supposed to make everyone believe it’s Liliana I fell for. I want to protest, but I’m not sure if Cole will want me to be explicit with Lili in the room.
“But I have a boyfriend,” Liliana says.
Cole nods and still won’t look at me. “Well, you can keep him. They want it to all look deceptive, like the two of you are together, only hiding it.”
The irony is not lost on me. I need Cole to look at me, so I speak. “That’s not fair. We just want to be in the movie.” I feel childish and sound like it, too, now that I’ve said it.
Finally, she fixes those beautiful green eyes on me. It’s not anger or disappointment I see; it’s resolution and acceptance. “It doesn’t really matter if it’s fair. You signed the contract regarding promotion and marketing of the next two films. This is what they require. Acting doesn’t stop just because the cameras aren’t rolling, and if you don’t want a lawsuit for breach of contract, you’ll do it.”
Cole turns back to Liliana. “Clue your boyfriend in. He’ll have to play his part as well.”
“But—” I begin to say, but she cuts me off with her hands on her hips.
“Look, this isn’t anything new. Hollywood’s been fabricating relationships almost as long as it’s been putting out moving pictures, okay? And this isn’t even the biggest lie out there. Next time either of you sign contracts, I advise you to have a lawyer read it, or here’s a novel idea: Read it yourselves because it’s obvious neither of you did.”
Cole turns away, rolls her head from side to side like she tries to ease away the tension. I can hear her taking deep breathes. Maybe I should do the same, but the whole thing disgusts me, and I curl my hands into fists as they rest on top of my thighs.
I know Cole doesn’t want to go public with our relationship while still directing this movie and Reflections. We’re still new, and if we came out now, the rumors will start. I know she thinks that all of her relationships go sour once the public knows about them.
But I can’t help but think if she’d just let us come out to the world before, I wouldn’t be contractually obligated to pretend to love someone else.
Later, in her suite, Collette flops down onto the sofa and pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. She stays silent, but I can tell she has something dancing around that active brain of hers. “Say it.”
She hesitates and shakes her head, but then grips me in a weighty stare. “You should’ve let Anthony look at your contract.”
“I know that now.” I nearly drain my bottle of beer and then get another one. When I come back, Cole looks so sad. I sit down next to her and nudge her into a sitting position. “This doesn’t have to change anything. We’ll still be secretly together, but now we’ll just have the added fun of pretending I’m in love with Lili.”
Cole rests her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. “There’s just so much pressure, Devon. You’re going to be the hottest, most wanted commodity on the planet. You’ll be able to have anyone you want, and trying to find time together will be difficult. More misdirection and hide-outs.”
“I don’t want anyone else. I want you. You’re my beer, remember? Everyone else is just peanuts.”
“That’s sweet, but your every move will be analyzed, and the studio needs all your moves dedicated to selling this movie and the next.”
“I can do that with you. What’s the difference? We’re already hiding. Now I just have more incentive to keep it that way. You should be happy about this.”
She gets up and crosses the room. “You think this is what I want? Seriously? You think I don’t want to waltz out in front of every journalist and fan and declare that I love you? Because I do. I want that, but wanting things don’t always mean they’re practical.”
I shake my second beer can and realize it’s empty.
“I can’t believe you signed it. You didn’t want me to keep doing things for you.” She curls her fingers in air quotes. “You wouldn’t let Anthony—”
“Yeah, I already said that was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”
“I’m so fucking done with this shoot. I’m done with this fucking studio!”
I choose not to remind her we’ll both be working for them again when we start Reflections in a month.
Cole runs her hands through her hair. “I’m not filming the sequel, just so you know.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to be attached to the sequel. I barely wanted anything to do with this one, but there’s no way in hell I’ll—”
I get up and wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can think to say.
The past few weeks with Cole at her estate have been great. Apart from having to be seen with Liliana, it’s been just been me and Cole. She has been editing, but her house is eq
uipped with everything she needs.
Now that Tortured Desires is finished shooting, we’re back in New York, away from any kind of work before we start Reflections. We’ve enjoyed a great dinner. Outside on the balcony, she seems a bit more carefree than usual. She claims no one will see us out here.
“Look at all those lights.”
“Hmmm.” She nods. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re not beautiful. They’re lights. You’re beautiful.” I hug her from behind and slide my cheek against hers, then kiss her ear.
“All those lights represent people. Millions of women are already tweeting about you, ready to do whatever it takes for a second of your time. Any of those women would suck you off if you just said one word. You’re already a god to them.”
I have a brief vision of an empty life of a movie or music star, waking to a rumpled king-sized bed, the night before nothing but a dream. A ten in the morning call gets me moving. The sight of a used towel and lipstick marks on a wine glass reminds me that the meaningless encounter actually happened. I realize I don’t want that. “Doesn’t seem so good now.”
Cole presses her ass to my groin and wriggles. “You have so much power now, and it’s only going to increase. You’re a god. Fuck me like a god, Devon.”
While my dick gets hard, I don’t press for sex. I haven’t been overly interested in physical affection for a few weeks. I’m tired and worried quite a lot of the time, and tonight, I came out to the balcony to be inspired by the New York night; to hold Collette close to me and breathe in the triumph of my life. “I don’t know how to fuck like a god.”
Cole lowers herself down until she kneels before me and pulls off her light pink camisole. Her breasts are free, her nipples already hard and waiting to be touched. She grabs my hand and places it at the back of her head. “Take control.”
I’m suddenly naked from the waist down, my cock deep inside her mouth. The head is back against her throat, her lips stretching almost to the base of my dick; her head moves only slightly. She places a hand on my hip and pulls me forward as another hand covers my hand on the back of her head.
She wants me like this? With wild abandon? Without concern for her? I pull my hips back while I shiver in pleasure as her tongue does wonderful things to the underside of my shaft. “Cole, while I love fucking, I’m not going to fuck your mouth and make you gag or puke. If this is what gods do, it’s not—”
“Then don’t,” she says, almost out of breath. “Take me some other way, but show me your power. Right now.”
At this, I hesitate. I don’t want power. I mean, I want to make good money doing something I love, but I don’t want to be a role model, or influence people. And I certainly don’t need power in our relationship. I want equality. “I want to—”
She starts sucking my cock hard and wraps her fingers around me. Cole starts pumping me while her mouth works the head. It’s so intense, I could come right now.
I pull away, then bring my hands to her head and lift her up as gently but forcefully as I can. Pressing her back against the stone railing, I constrain her. After I pull off my T-shirt, I bend down to remove her pants. The little pink panties, I leave on. While squatted down, I rake my tongue flat against her satin-covered pussy.
Cole widens her stands to give me better access to the sweet little spot I love. I do it again, licking her panties, applying more pressure than what she’d be able to handle without the fabric between us. One of my hands travels the inside of her leg, and I rub her opening with the tips of my fingers. So wet. So needy. So ready to be fucked.
The nagging part of my head telling me to make love to her, not fuck her, is still there, but just like Cole wants, I ignore it. I push the panties to the side and slide my middle finger into her. She bends her knees to drive it deeper, but as I start lapping harder against her clitoris beneath the satin, she pushes me away.
“I don’t want it like this.” Cole pushes hard against me.
I catch myself so I don’t wind up flat on my ass. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into her. The fire in her eyes matches the fire of her hair. I’m not sure what I should do, but then she tells me. “Gods don’t eat pussy like a starving man eats bread. Gods eat pussy like they’re entitled to it. Like it’s their right; like they own it.”
My cock deflates a little at the implication that I’m not doing it right; that she doesn’t like how I make love to her. What the hell’s gotten into her? How am I ever going to keep this woman happy? She wants more than I can give, and I’ll never be able to be both commanding and sensitive. Collette wants it all, and I have only a small piece.
I don’t know why she wants it like this, but she’s waiting to get fucked. If she wants me to be dominant, then I’ll do my best and hope it’s good enough.
I stand up and move to her like a predator stalks its prey. Why would anyone ask for more when I’m giving her all I have? I take her body, and lay it out on the cold wood bench that serves as a seat. Instead of kneeling down and diving back into her, I circle, then straddle the bench. My face might be buried in her pussy, but my cock is now buried in her mouth.
If she wants someone to not give a shit about breaking her, then there is no reason not to thrust down. Her hands are on my waist. They travel to my back, then hips, then ass, nails skimming across my skin. I lap at her, but it’s not with the same reverence as I normally give. Now it’s just to get her off. She doesn’t want my love, so there isn’t a need to show it to her through this action.
She wants to be fucked. She wants to be fucked hard without love, without real passion. Only with lust and want and greed.
Cole tries to gain more friction by bucking her hips, so I take away my tongue again and smack her pussy, right on the clit. She makes a noise, perhaps a gasp of surprise, but my dick is still in her mouth, so it comes out as a strangled choke. She keeps her hold on my cock tight as I slide it in and out of her mouth.
This position is growing tiresome, so I wrap my arms around her hips and bring us both up. Cole is upside down now, moving her head back and forth on my cock, and my neck is bent as I flick my tongue out and over her.
The cool night breeze heightens the sensitivity of my skin, and as I move back to lean against the stone next to the window, I shiver. I can’t come like this, so after a while, I twirl her around, but her feet are only on the ground for a moment before I pick her back up, spin us around, and press her back into the building.
Plunging into, I don’t look at her. I can’t. I know she loves this by the sounds she makes, by how her body clutches onto mine, and by how the muscles of her vagina squeeze me. I pump up into her, and Cole digs her nails into my shoulders. She’s going to come soon, and I want to deny her that pleasure.
If she wants me to fuck like a god, it means I can do anything I want, so I let go of her and move back. Her legs aren’t quite ready to handle the sudden weight; they buckle. I catch and steady her, but just for a moment, then I swirl her until she faces away from me. My hand on her back presses her down onto the bench, belly down.
I spread her open with my hands on each one of her ass cheeks. Cole has been trying to push me past my point of comfort. I don’t know why, but she has. I have to show her that maybe I don’t have any areas of discomfort. That I’m fine with it all. I smack each side of her ass hard, then stick my hand between her legs to collect her wetness.
I smear it on that taut little asshole, then quickly use some of my saliva to lubricate my cock. I don’t ask permission before pressing into her, but the tightness overwhelms me, and I stop before I’m all the way inside of her.
“Yes,” she says, breathily. Slowly, she presses her hips back.
It drives me deeper into her. I can’t believe she’s okay with this without proper lubrication. But she seems fine with just my dick made wet by her mouth and her own moisture. I guess I shouldn’t care since I’m supposed to be some kind of god, so I grab her hips and stop her movement. Then I really fuck her.
My grip on her hips is so tight my knuckles and her flesh are turning white. The steady smack of our body echoes on the balcony, then rises out to be swallowed up by the noises of the New York streets below. She loses all ability to help the process along, so she just lies there, moaning because she likes the way I’m fucking her ass. But after a second, she moves her hand between her legs and shouts.
That is her first orgasm. I give her three more before I allow myself to thrust harder, deeper, faster to achieve my own orgasm.
When I’m done, I pick up her slack body and carry her into the shower. I don’t look at her as we wash up, and when I’m ready to get out, I don’t wait for her. Instead, I dress, grab a couple of beers, then go back outside. The balcony is somehow not as comfortable anymore; not as amazing as it was just an hour ago.
With my arms over the railing, I look down and watch people going about their lives.
I don’t want to be a god to anyone. I just want to share my life with someone who wants me as is.
I stiffen when she presses herself close to me in a hug. As she moves to stand beside me, I still don’t look at her.
I’m not okay with what just happened. Maybe the innocence she so liked about me isn’t a good thing after all. Even though she stands right next to me, I feel miles away. I could tell her I love her, or tell her how beautiful she is, but it would be a waste of effort. Anytime I talk about emotions, she shifts it either to another topic or turns it into an opportunity for sex.
She places her hand on my forearm. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head while wondering about the dichotomy of our relationship. In all my relationships before her, I was the one who pressed for sex, and the girls were the ones who expressed their feelings.
Soon, we’ll start shooting this film. A separate apartment has been booked for me, and although it breaks me to think it, I’m happy to have some place to go other than Cole’s. I can’t stay with my friends or family because I’m already getting followed and asked for my autograph. I need to get away and think. I need to evaluate who I am and try to figure out some way of making it balance with who she needs me to be.
