by C. J. Wells
Subject: Leaving paradise
Trip cut short. We’re heading home. And yes…EPIC SEX. You can hate me later. ;)
Aby xx
HOLY HELL, FLASHES blind me as we exit the arrivals gate. This is it. The ultimate test of composure - the world-renowned vultures of LAX.
“Just stay with me, baby,” Alex reassures me with a smile.
Comments and questions come at us from every direction as we walk, Alex handling those he can, with gentlemanly finesse. He’s amazing. Patient, warm, kind. I, however, feel like a fish out of water. I need a distraction…cell phone. Brilliant. Pulling it from my purse, I turn it on, a fake smile plastered across my face despite inwardly cursing at how long it’s taking. Mother fucker, turn on! Jeez, finally. Scrolling through, I’m desperate to immerse myself in something, anything, yet the only thing I find is the unread message from Mom. Fuck it, I’ll take it.
Subject:
Just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of my beautiful, brave girl. I realize my actions don’t always express how much I love you. But I try. And I’m more proud of you than you know.
Love Mom
I’m stunned. Oh my God, Mom. I have no idea where that came from, but the heartfelt strength it gives me in this moment is beyond words. Feeling confident, I put my cell away, looking up, head held high.
Alex’s gaze catches my eye first, his beaming adoration pulling my questioning smile.
He says nothing, simply smiling in return, taking my hand with a gentle squeeze before looking ahead; another question called from behind a camera, stealing the moment of silence.
“Alexander, what kind of underwear do you wear?” a reporter asks, walking sideways to keep up, dangling a microphone in Alex’s face like a carrot to a horse.
I stifle a laugh as I catch the look Alex flashes the reporter’s way.
“Not a good question, buddy,” Alex replies on a laugh, following it up with a smile.
“Boxers or briefs?” he tries again.
“Dude, seriously,” Alex squeezes my hand a little - for his own composure perhaps?
“When does filming start?” the reporter goes for three as we pass him, reaching the car.
“Tomorrow, in fact,” Alex turns to offer the nuisance a final smile, ushering me into the backseat of the Black Yukon Denali. “Take care, man,” he adds, taking a seat beside me, the driver closing the door behind him.
The incessant camera flashes are insane. Jesus, I look around, taking them in from all sides, grateful for the tinted windows inside our semi-private seclusion.
Giving my thigh a squeeze, Alex pulls my gaze, “You handled that beautifully.”
“I was feeling suddenly brave,” I sidle into his side, looking up with a smile, his quirked brow urging me on. “I received a nice text from Mom,” I shrug, trying to pass it off as no big deal, when really I’m still reeling.
He smiles knowingly, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Are you ready to see the sites of L.A.?”
“Hell, yeah!” I settle into him, excited as we exit the airport, maneuvering onto the I-405.
Wrapping his arm around me, we settle into comfortable silence and I lean into the warmth of his hold. I can’t believe we’re here. I’ve never been to L.A. before, and I’m almost unable to contain my schoolgirl excitement - the only thing reining it in at this moment being the spell of Alex.
“As much as I enjoyed our island retreat,” Alex jars me from our tranquil moment, “…I’m immensely looking forward to showing you our home.”
His words hit deep. Our home. The thought sends butterflies through my tummy, anticipation setting in as we exit the freeway, my excitement unleashed.
“Sunset Boulevard,” he nods out the window and I lean over him like a giddy child.
Stopping at a set of lights, I watch wide-eyed as a Michael Jackson impersonator puts on a free show from the sidewalk. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was the real deal. Passing another block, I spy a scantily clad woman - or man, who knows - lingering at the curb. It’s terrible, but I have to ask, “Will we see hookers? Cause, I think I just saw one.”
The deep baritone of his laugh sings down my spine.
“Hello? Pretty Woman…Hollywood Boulevard?” I explain.
“We’re on Sunset Boulevard, sweetheart,” he smiles, still laughing.
“So? What? They only congregate on Hollywood Boulevard, not Sunset Boulevard?”
“Do you really want to know if I know that answer?”
My mouth hits the floor before his smirk gives him away. “Jerk,” I slap his chest playfully. “So not funny.”
He laughs and I ignore him to continue perusing out all windows, taking in as much as I can. “There’s so much I want to see.”
“We have tons of time, baby,” he grins, beaming exuberance.
“I want to see Rodeo Drive, that Chinese theatre place with everyone’s foot prints, the walk of fame…Malibu, Beverly Hills. Oh! And I really want to see that dude walking up the sidewalk chanting, ‘What’s your dream? Everybody’s got a dream’.” I catch his peaked brow and shrug, “Pretty Woman.”
“You’re adorable, Miss Ryan,” he laughs. “I’m not sure we’ll manage to see all of that this evening.” His saucy smirk pulls my stink eye.
“Okay, then I only have one request tonight. It’s the biggest of all, the most important. Iconic, is what it is,” I whisper the latter dramatically, nodding with the accuracy of my statement. “The Hollywood Sign.”
“That, we can manage, sweetheart,” he pulls me in for a chaste kiss.
I’m enthralled with the scenery; images I’ve seen before, though only in movies. We sit in comfortable silence for a while and I lean back into the warmth of his hold.
“Doug, why don’t we take Laurel Canyon to Mulholland Drive for my girl.”
“GOOD MORNING, HANDSOME,” I manage, pausing for a drool-worthy moment at the entrance to our bedroom. Our bedroom. A week in L.A. and it still hasn’t set in.
Having found Alex tugging a t-shirt over his head, I’m in a familiar state of rapid-fire adrenaline that instantly kick-starts my kegels at the sight, his glorious chest and rippling abdominal muscles shielded too quickly as he pulls it into place. Damn.
I’ve been awake for a couple of hours, enjoying the sun on the deck while I let Alex sleep. He was so tired last night when he returned home, these long days filming clearly taking its toil, I simply couldn’t bring myself to wake him up.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask, folding into his arms for a hug, attempting to hide my pout at the end of the delicious show I’d walked in on.
“I did, thank you,” he lifts my chin to his gaze. “However, I would have much preferred waking up with you beside me.”
“Oh,” I release the word on a breathless whisper. This man never ceases to take my breath away with the way he looks at me. “Well, I’ve been up for ages, I didn’t want to wake you. You needed your beauty sleep, Mr. Hot Stuff.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh huh,” I reply cheekily. “Sadly, though, it seems I waited too long to check on you - it’s such a shame I missed the show,” I playfully tug at his shirt, pulling out of his light embrace. Walking around him, I teasingly smack his bottom, placing the book I’d been reading down on the dresser.
On a growl, he turns towards me, taking gentle hold of my arms to walk me backwards. “Well, if the lady wants a show,” he whispers in my ear, sending goose bumps along my flesh, “…I’m all for a repeat performance.”
“Is that right?” I ask breathlessly amid backward steps, purposely mimicking his earlier question. I’m already lost in a haze of lust at his words alone, the mere thought of him touching me, coming inside me, has me panting as I curl my fingers around his muscular biceps.
“Yes, that’s right. Are you ready, baby? Do you have any idea what I plan on doing to you?”
Oh God. I’m putty in his hands, a complete ball of yearning just waiting to be taken, devoured. I mo
an as his words invade my psyche, the lascivious thoughts now floating through my mind creating a whirlwind sensation of desire cascading through my system.
I falter slightly as the backs of my knees hit the ottoman, before Alex assists in setting me down into the adjoined chair, running his fingers along my bare legs, spreading them wide.
“Don’t move,” he whispers huskily. “Stay right where you are.”
Wetness pools between my spread legs at the sheer cadence of his voice, his sexy command; my jean shorts feeling slightly constricting in my need to simply get naked and have my wicked way with him.
Sprawled in the seat, my feet flat on the floor on either side, I watch, transfixed as he saunters slowly backwards, his eyes taking me in, consuming me with each step.
His gaze sears me; devouring my eyes, lips, breasts, before landing on the apex of my thighs. My nipples pebble and my sex throbs under his blatant stare, my need overwhelming me.
“Alex…” I plead breathlessly, moving to sit up, wanting him to return.
“I told you not to move, Aby,” he reminds me in that authoritative tone I love so much…the alter ego of the gentleman I love so much.
Obediently, I sit back to rest against the cushion, giving in to his dominance not because I have to, but because I want to. I love when he tells me what he wants. When he directs me with his commanding, seductive words, enticing me with a provocative warning of what is to come. My body falls under his sexy spell, hungry for him to take me to orgasmic bliss. Simply knowing that the latter is a foregone conclusion once he unleashes this side of himself is my undoing, and I offer no argument in submitting to his bidding.
“Good girl,” he stops, his gape molten, his irises darkened a deep shade of blue. His fingers move to undo the button of his jeans, pausing slightly, taking in my watchful, wanting gaze as he lowers the zipper. My desire is evident as I stare at him in lustful need, and his sinful smirk tells me he’s very aware of the effect he has on me. “Do you want me, Aby?” he asks, baring a hint of the sexy trail of hair that cascades down beneath his white boxer briefs, the treasure that lies within making my mouth water.
“Ye-es.”
“And, what else do you want?”
I tremble slightly, unable to reply as he removes his jeans, slowly pulling each leg off, discarding them to the side. His manhood tents his boxers, and I whimper with need at the mere sight, the sheer magnitude of this gorgeous specimen.
“Tell me, baby. Do you want me to lick your sweet pussy? Devour your pink flesh with my mouth, my tongue? Do you want me to fill you full with my fingers until you scream?”
“Oh. My. God.” The words plummet from my mouth through my sexual haze, my legs shaking with desire at his flagrant inquisition. I’ve never heard him talk this way. The shock to my system is excitingly delicious.
I can’t keep from biting my lip in anticipation as I watch him grab his t-shirt from behind his neck and pull it off in one fluid motion. The man puts every underwear model in history to shame with his incredible physique.
“Do you want this?” he slowly swipes the length of his erection through his boxers.
I lose all vocal ability, an inaudible mumbled gasp escaping my lips as he pulls at the waistband, releasing his clear desire. It flexes and bobs in its freedom against his stomach before he bends to shed the final piece of clothing.
Moaning in need, I inadvertently bring my hands to my breasts, plumping them in my grip to assuage the incredible ache for his touch, the mounds heavy and full in my palms. I shudder at the sensation as my fingers glide along my hardened nipples.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he predatorily walks towards me in his naked glory, “…I believe I told you not to move.” Resting one knee on the ottoman between my wide spread legs, he grabs my wrists in his hand, holding them above my head. “Do I need to tell you again, sweetheart?” he asks, looking into my eyes. Holding my throat, he leans down to my ear, “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
My heart slams in my chest at his forcefulness; his aura of sexy dominance careening through my system. My pulse pounds heavy in my throat, my skin prickling with sweat. I’m so utterly insatiable for him. Always insatiable for him.
He makes quick work of undoing my shorts, pulling them down my hips and legs with my lift of eager assistance; my cotton panties soaked through on display for his avid, unwavering gaze. “Mmmm…Always ready for me, aren’t you, baby?” he growls, swiping his finger teasingly, fleetingly, along my core.
My body jolts at the impact, and I whimper at the loss of his touch. “Alex…please,” I beg.
“Please what, baby?” His breath on my earlobe sends a spasm of lustful shudders through every inch of my body, his question filled with enough sexual foreboding to elicit the clenching of my core in anticipation.
“Please, take me now. Please…” my plea is desperate.
“Oh, I will, Aby. I’ll take you. Every part of you. I’ll devour you, cherish you…” his teasing touch mimics his words, his fingers seductively gliding along my curves, his palms swirling against my nipples. He knows that drives me crazy for him. Makes me wild for him.
“Alex, please...fuck me,” my demanding request is but a mere, begging whisper. It’s effect, however, is loud and clear - evident in the swift lock of his gaze on mine. It’s as though I flipped a switch, turned things up a notch, set off the fire sprinklers. The desire dripping from every inch of him is suddenly soaking me.
“Oh, I’ll fuck you, baby. I’ll take you so far, fill you so deep, you’ll still be feeling it when you wake tomorrow,” his confession is as bold as the grip he takes of the end of my flimsy tank top with both hands. Tugging hard, he rips it in half up my torso.
I shriek at the sensation, the sheer enormity of strength in his grasp, before he spreads the cotton material, exposing my bare breasts. His pleasure at the absence of my bra solicits his husky groan as he leans forward, taking a nipple into his mouth.
The bolts of pleasure send instant spikes of need to my clit amid my moaning scream. I want so desperately to run my hands through his hair, along his glorious shoulders, desperate to touch him, feel him. Yet I don’t. I stay exactly as he’s instructed me, commanded me. His order an imaginary tie, binding me, spiking my desire higher to dangle me over the edge. It’s too much. I want to fall…“Ahhh, please!” I beg.
I feel his grin against my breast, his fingers tweaking and pulling at my other nipple, before he leans back on his haunches to stare down at me. Grazing his fingers along my stomach, my muscles rippling and shaking in their wake, he slides teasingly along my inner thighs. “Touch them. Play with your nipples for me.”
Though it’s his body I’m desperate to feel, I immediately obey, plumping my breasts, palming my nipples in a circular motion as though my touch were his own.
His approving smirk is sinfully delicious, leaving me breathless, panting, as I watch his eyes, mesmerized, devouring me all the way down to my core, his gaze hungry with want.
Tugging my panties to the side, he swipes his thumb along my wetness before slowly pushing it inside me, my body tightening and gripping in welcome yearning.
Yes…I moan, grinding towards his teasing fill, needing more, my body begging without words.
He pulls his thumb out with a devilish snicker, my gaze immediately darting to his knowing simper. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”
“Yes! Please…” I plead, pinching my nipples slightly to assuage the overwhelming ache, closing my eyes against my desperate need. I feel him slide my panties to the side once more, his thrust forceful as he buries himself inside me to the root. “Oh, fuck…Alex!”
“God, Aby”, he groans, leaning down to tantalize my nipple with his tongue. “I love fucking you, baby. You feel so good, so tight, squeezing me, clutching me as though you don’t want to let me go.”
“I don’t ever want to let you go!” I manage through a gasp as he pulls back and fills me once more, my legs wrapping securely around his waist.
Pr
imal in our need for each other, we’re frantic in our touch - tugging, pulling, scratching, and moaning in each other’s arms; the screeching of the seating on the floor beneath us from his deep and heavy thrusts an animalistic auditory aphrodisiac.
He pumps into me repeatedly, deeper and deeper, in long fluid motions. His relentless drives send me careening further and further into sexual abyss, his fingers sliding into the hair at my nape, tugging hard to expose my neck to his devouring lips.
“Fuck, Aby,” he growls, gliding his teeth along my flesh. “Come for me, baby…”
“Ye-es!!” I scream as I fall. My core clenches around him like a vise as I ride the waves of my orgasm before feeling him still above me, groaning in my ear as he fills me.
“Fuck, I love you,” he manages through labored breaths.
“I love you, too,” I reply in my euphoria, momentarily noting that love isn’t a strong enough word.
“FUCKERS!” I CURSE aloud, slamming my laptop closed. Could the media be any more ridiculous?
I’m not sure what deep-rooted affliction I suffer from, given my incessant need to peruse the Internet in search of any new drivel the media has written about Alex - or me, I should say. Each time I find something I get annoyed, promising myself I’ll never look again, only to go searching the next day. Yup, it’s an affliction, alright.
It’s amazing what the gossips come up with. According to the bullshit write-ups to date, I’ve been pregnant with Alex’s baby; am Alex’s live-in escort/hooker; and a boat load of other completely ridiculous - and might I say, incredibly uncreative - fabrications of the media’s imagination. Whatever sells magazine I guess.
I’m not sure why I bother looking. Again, it’s an affliction. I simply can’t help myself. It’s almost addictive. Particularly when I’m bored out of my skull, as I am at the moment. I love my freelance work with Thomas, but it doesn’t take up much of my time - an hour or two a day, maximum. With Alex constantly filming, it leaves me with a ton of free time - free time to surf the net and aimlessly pad around the beach house looking for something to entertain myself with.
