Finding Love's Wings

by Derrick, Zoey

  "Well, I'm looking forward to meeting both of them. And I'm really hoping that Mick can help me out with my finances. I'm crap with them, and I'm bothered by the amount of money I do have. I've done very little to earn it. There are some days I wish I could do it for free. Then there are other days I feel that I am not paid anywhere near enough. It's an overwhelming burden sometimes. I'm guessing you know how that feels."

  She nods. "Yeah, that I do understand. I make more money then I can possibly spend." She sighs. "I worry sometimes that having money will turn me into a pretentious bitch."

  I laugh. "Well I vow to do my best to not let that happen."

  Smiling at me, ignoring the suggestion in my words, she continues, "I wasn't raised with money. Bobbie gave me a meager allowance, and it wasn't until I graduated high school that I was handed the first portion of my trust fund."

  I nod. "I would love to do what I do without all the money and the fame that comes with it. Nothing is more annoying than going to the pharmacy and being followed around the store by crazed fans demanding autographs or touching me. It's gotten to the point that I usually send Tyson or someone else out to do my shopping, and trust me, that gets old. I don't like being confined to my house or hotel because of the fans."

  "I can understand that to a point. It's not something that I've ever had to deal with. I suppose that's something I do have to thank Bobbie for. He kept me out of the spotlight. I know that he made the tabloids more than a few times."

  I grin. "Yeah, I suppose you do. You're his best-kept secret. Although, if you should decide to take over the company, I would imagine that would change pretty fast."

  "I imagine that being around you alone will change that status pretty fast."

  Shit! "Good point," I say simply. She's smiling. "What's so funny?"

  She ponders her answer for a second. "Honestly?"

  "Of course."

  "The thought of hanging around with you."

  "Why is that funny? It's not a bad thing, is it?"

  She shakes her head. "No, it's intriguing. Kind of like what you told Beau on the phone. Did you really mean what you said to her?" she asks.

  "Yes, although I'm curious as to what part you are referring to."

  "All of it, but more specifically the 'if you'll have me' part."

  "Yes." I look at her, pulling her closer and tighter. A line comes into my mind from a movie I saw some million years ago. I've always wanted to use it on a woman, and it feels right with Cami. "Can I keep you?"

  She blushes and about ten different emotions cross her face, but all of them seem good, so I'm not concerned. She doesn't answer me out loud. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulls me tight into her body, and brings her lips to mine, cementing our relationship with a kiss that's passionate and full of promise. Her body fits against mine perfectly, despite our difference in height.

  Her tongue gently seeks entrance into my mouth, I let her in easily, eager to feel her tongue against mine. Kissing Cami is the ultimate. Her taste and flowery scent cause a great single-minded desire to pool deep down in the pit of my stomach. To have her close to me. I'm not sure if it's Cami or the hot tub making my head swim. But as much as I want her in this moment, I am going to behave myself. She deserves better than this hot tub for our first time.

  Tyson comes into my peripheral vision and clears his throat. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes."

  I look up at him, barely able to pull away from Cami's kissing. "Thank you, Tyson," I try to say clearly, but it comes out husky with desire. It's very obvious to me that Cami has caught the tone in my voice because she squirms a little in my arms. Tyson nods to me and retreats back to wherever it is he's been hiding.

  "Should we get dried off for dinner?" I ask.

  Without waiting for an answer, I stand up with Cami still in my arms. She weighs next to nothing, and it partially satisfies my desire to have her in my arms. I carry her out of the hot tub, my arms wrapped around her ribs and her feet hanging straight down. Her corset rings are warm against my arms. I gently lift my arms up a little bit higher, hoping that I'm not rubbing or pulling on her piercings.

  As I step up out of the tub I can feel her feet bumping against my shins. I let out a chuckle.

  She gives me a puzzled look. "What's so funny?"

  "It wasn't until your feet bumped into my shins that it dawned on me just how short you are."

  "Ha-ha!" she says, sticking her tongue out at me. I laugh, then suddenly her face lights up into a huge smile. "You know, Tristan?"

  "What do I know?"

  "Great things come in small packages." She giggles and squirms against me, brushing against my erection.

  Feeling playful, I quickly loosen my arms like I'm going to drop her and she squeals. She quickly has me in her clutches; she grabs tight onto my hair and pulls.

  "Ah!" I growl and look down at her. She is still smiling. "You think so, little lady. Keep that up and I can't promise to control myself." No need to directly mention the fact that her hair-pulling move has made my already painful erection throb harder. "For the record, I like what comes in this small package," I say, kissing her forehead.

  I can feel her breasts and hard nipples pressing against my chest. All it will take is one quick flick and I can have her bikini undone and her breasts falling out of her top.

  She pulls my head down and kisses me with fervor. I meet her ferocious kissing with my own tongue. I pull her lower lip between my teeth and tug. She moans into my mouth.

  Without breaking the kiss, I set her down on the deck near the table and pull her tighter against my body so I can feel every delicious curve pressing against me. I steady her, then my hands caress her back, slowly sliding down until the tips of my fingers meet with the top of her bikini bottoms. She stands on her tip-toes so she can deepen the kiss, rubbing her breasts against my chest.

  My fingers trail along the waist of her bikini. She shivers at my touch but kisses me even harder. I slide my hands around her hips to her stomach and then up to the underside of her supple breasts. Slowly my thumbs graze, feather light, against the hard peaks of her nipples.

  She moans and her hands move down my body and skim across my ass. Her fingers continue gently along my hips before diving into the waistband of my shorts. My erection is aching, throbbing for her touch. Her fingers are cool when they finally find me, stroking me slowly and gently, a sweet teasing torture. She gasps as her fingers take in the surprise she finds along the shaft of my erection. I moan back into her mouth and my thumbs both begin rubbing more firmly against her nipples.

  My want is quickly turning to need as she continues to stroke along the shaft of my cock. I want desperately to take her back into the hot tub and strip her of her tiny bikini, but I know I have to stop this for multiple reasons, one of which is the fact that I'm not ready to go there. Also, the hot tub is hardly the place for our first time, and lastly, Tyson has come back around the corner to let us know dinner is ready. I can see him out of the corner of my eye.

  He is smiling as he looks at me. I can tell that he is happy to see me this happy.

  I kiss Cami a couple more times, each kiss becoming more chaste. I reluctantly pull my hands away from her nipples. She follows my lead, releasing my erection and taking her hand out of my shorts. She brings her arms around me and hugs me, looking up at me through her lashes with an expression that's sensual and full of lusty promise. A promise I so desperately want her to fill.

  "If we keep this up, Cami, you're going to strip me of every ounce of strength I have in place to control myself." Her face falls just a little bit. "Believe me, I want you, but I'm not so sure I'm ready for that tonight."

  She looks at me and smiles a brilliantly white smile. "I do love a challenge, Tristan."

  "Not a challenge." I smile and lean in to whisper in her ear. "I want to be buried deep inside of you, in every imaginable position. But not here. Not now. And not tonight." I pull back and add in a normal tone of voice, "Besi
des. Dinner's ready."

  PART NINETEEN

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  As we walk toward the stern of the boat for our dinner, Tristan's trying desperately to make subtle adjustments to his erection and failing miserably. Knowing I am the one causing that makes me want to giggle like a school girl.

  I was very pleasantly surprised by the four piercings running along his shaft. A Prince Albert and three frenums along the shaft of his cock. Feeling that sent a shiver through me, desire hot and heavy running through my body.

  I know what a challenge it is to wait; it's taking every ounce of strength I have to not rip off his shorts and take him right here on the deck. I've never encountered someone of the opposite sex wanting to hold out. Were it not for his erection, I might feel self-conscious about how much I want him, but it's comforting to know that Tristan and I are both having a hard time controlling our urges to bed one another. To know that this means more to him than getting laid is a bit heady.

  Now that I'm out of the hot tub and we're out on open water, I'm a bit chilly, so I slip on my t-shirt. Tristan's face falls as I cover myself up.

  "So, let me guess. You would rather enjoy having me for dinner in the buff?" I tease.

  He blushes. "Is it that obvious?"

  I blush in response. "Sometimes. But just now I noticed that you looked a little disappointed when you saw my shirt. Then you perked up when you realized it was going to be just as revealing as the bikini." I giggle. "Don't worry," I whisper. "I like it."

  His returning smile practically lights up the evening sky. "Good, so do I."

  He lifts his elbow in a gesture for me to take his arm. I take it, and he leads me through the cabin to the deck on the other side. The view is spectacular. The captain has turned the boat so that our table is quite literally backlit by the beautiful setting sun. I gasp as the view takes my breath away. The sun is huge, sitting low in the sky, and it has lit up the water in a beautiful array of reds, oranges, blues, and purples. It looks like the clouds are in the water.

  "My God, Tristan, this is beautiful," I say as I look up at him. He's not looking at the sunset, but rather at me.

  "I couldn't agree more."

  He pulls out my chair for me to sit. "Whoever said chivalry is dead was dead wrong," I giggle out. "Thank you."

  "Chivalry, in my book, is far from dead. A man should always hold a door and pull out a chair for a woman."

  Oh my, my! I cannot believe he just said that. At least now I know not to be surprised by the gesture going forward. "I will keep that in mind."

  "What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asks.

  "Tomorrow morning, around eight, I have a video conference with Trinity. That is where I earn my paycheck." I smile and continue, "I expect that tomorrow will be filled with a lot of talk about you."

  He scowls. "Why would you be doing that?"

  Before I can answer, a gentleman dressed in livery brings out our dinner salads and a bottle of white wine.

  "Well, we need to figure out our plan of attack for Tuesday. Bold is going to be completely bombarded with phone calls regarding the story. We need a plan in place when it comes to who all will be involved in the situation."

  Trinity had emailed me earlier today regarding the story. Attached was the unreleased copy. It was a very well-written article, and Tristan was painted rather favorably. Even so, the stories that are going to follow will be harsh as far as Tristan is concerned.

  As we begin to eat our salads, Tristan looks as though he is mulling something over.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" I tease.

  He flashes me a brief, tense smile. "I'm just not looking forward to all the negative attention on Tuesday."

  "But you won't have to face the fans or the press until you go back to the States. The only people who know you're here are Trinity, Mick, Beau, and me."

  "That's not true. I was recognized downstairs today. I signed autographs and let them take some pictures in an attempt to stop them from being vindictive. I asked the girls to wait a couple of days before telling their friends." He takes on the task of pouring our wine. "I'm not sure if it'll work, but I did my best."

  Crap. Well I guess it's inevitable that he'll be recognized, even all the way out here. "Hm. In that case, I suggest that once this story comes out, you drop from sight. Change the name on the hotel room to something a little less common."

  "Tyson is on it."

  "Good." I have this overwhelming desire to protect him as best as I can. "I want you to come out of this in one piece. Stories like this can completely destroy a person emotionally."

  He frowns. "I know, but frankly, at this point, once the promotional events are done for the movies I have already completed, I'm not entirely sure that I care to get back in front of the camera."

  I sigh. "Is that because you no longer want to act, or is it because you're afraid this will destroy your career?"

  He does not respond right away. I watch an array of emotions cross his face and his body. Anytime he is tense or anxious, his entire body tightens up. When he finally does respond, I'm amazed by what comes out of his mouth.

  "Cami, I love acting. There is nothing more that I want to do in this world than continue to pursue the career as far as it will take me." He pauses, taking a very large swig of his wine. When he drains the glass, he refills it and drinks about half of the new glass before continuing.

  "I am scared to death that Layla has destroyed my credibility with all this negative publicity. I know it's an irrational fear. I didn't do anything wrong in this whole mess. But my name is going to be dragged through the thickest of mud regardless of what I do." He takes another drink of his wine. This one is slower and smaller. "The contracted production schedule for the films prevented me from taking on very many new roles. I was able to take two additional roles and completed the production of those films outside of Burning, but the last few months have been pretty dry on scripts, and I'm concerned that my career is coming to an end and not because of Layla." He takes a deep breath.

  I'm puzzled because I'm not exactly sure what he's referring to. "What do you mean, ‘not because of Layla’?" I ask.

  "I haven't received very many new scripts. The ones that I have received were either poorly written or they were B movies with unreasonable production schedules." He takes a bite of his salad. "I've been wondering if it has to do with my acting ability or if it's just the movies that I've done. A lot of my popularity stems from the character I play, not necessarily my acting abilities."

  Our waiter returns to clear our salad plates and bring us our main course: blackened duck, roasted potatoes, and mixed vegetables. I pick up my fork and knife and slowly slice into the duck. It's tender and juicy.

  Before I take my first bite, I say to him, "Vincent has four scripts sitting on his desk – at this moment – waiting to be released to you. He's just waiting until we have a final production schedule and tentative contract in hand. From my understanding, he holds the majority of your scripts until he has more information. He tries very hard not to bombard you with scripts that turn into nothing or with demands for production that you can’t meet."

  His expression changes from grim to slightly excited.

  I take my first bite, and it's delicious. Mouthwatering. I swallow and take a sip of the wine, which tastes crisp after the rich meat.

  "You'll be able to pick and choose or possibly do them all," I continue. "According to Vinnie, the tentative production schedules would not overlap, and you could meet the timelines on all of them."

  Watching his reaction intently, I see how his body shifts from bent over and tense to a looser, straighter position. A smile spreads across his face, and his eyes warm.

  We eat in silence for a few minutes as I mull over the fact that I haven't told him everything I know, and it's nagging at me. Finally I take a deep breath and speak up, bracing myself for his reaction. "I've seen the article."

  "Wha...? When? How?" He's pretty cute when h
e's flustered, actually.

  "Trinity sent me the article today. She received it yesterday but waited to forward it to me until the pictures were validated. There's also a video, but that won't be released to the public. It confirms that it's her, though, without doubt."

  "She admitted to cheating."

  "Right, she did. To you and no one else. At least that we know of. Validating the photos is standard in scandal stories because if they're faked we would fight it and file a law suit to stop the story. In this case, the pictures are pretty good quality. They haven't been altered or enhanced."

  "Well, I guess that's something," he sulks.

  "Tristan, the article tears Layla apart, claiming that this is not the first time she's done this. Though the source requested anonymity in the article, the magazine did receive written permission to disclose their information you and to Bold."

  He looks at me, completely puzzled. "You know who took the photos?"

  "No, I don't know who took the pictures. But I know who sent the pictures to the magazine, and I also know why the source chose Entertainment Now to release the story to." I had never considered who the source might be until it was brought to me. The source’s anonymity is being protected by Bold until Tristan decides he wanted to know. I am hoping that the person who sent the pictures will reveal themselves to Tristan in their own time.

  "Why EN?" he asks. I can tell that he is doing all he can to calm himself. But surprise washes over me that he asked this question and not who.

  I take a rather large drink of the wonderful wine. It seems like a waste to gulp it, but I am suddenly feeling the need to steel myself for the rest of this conversation. "EN was chosen because they have a reputation for verification. Also, they only publish once a month, and they tend to sit on the stories until the person or persons involved have a chance to respond. They do all that so they can fully attempt to verify the validity of the claims. The creators of the magazine feel it makes for better magazines if they report the truth."

  The waiter interrupts us with another bottle of wine and our desserts. I take a sip of my wine, thank him, and watch him disappear back into the cabin.