Fame (Not Like The Movies #1)

by Lauren K. McKellar

  My hands reach to the bottom of his shirt and I lift it, delighting in the gorgeous tanned skin before me. His chest is rock hard and sculpted to perfection—just looking at it sends a zing straight between my legs.

  “Like what you see?” he asks, and I gulp. He is a drug, and I’m addicted. My hands reach for his belt, but he places his large ones over them. “Let’s take this slow.”

  My body screams hell no! Take me now! But my mind can see his point. After all, I guess he is in a faux relationship, and I’ve just come out of a—

  Oh, my.

  Tate undoes the buttons on my fly.

  “I thought we were taking this slow?” My voice tremors as I speak.

  “We are,” he says. “I’m taking you slow. Then I’m gonna take you fast.”

  Oh.

  He wiggles my shorts down my legs, removing them and my white shoes until I’m lying there in just my lingerie. His eyes travel over my body, and he licks his lips. “Gonna make you mine.”

  One finger trails over my panties. I thrust up, my body desperate for more. He pulls the lace to the side and traces his finger between my slick folds. “So wet for me, baby.”

  I blush. Mike never talked to me like that. Mike never—

  All thoughts of Mike fly from my brain as Tate pushes his finger inside me. He watches the whole time, as if I’m on display, and it’s a turn-on like no other. His hand unbuckles his belt and his cock springs free. His hand wraps around the thick mass and he strokes himself as one of his fingers plunge into me, then two, his thumb working my clit.

  Pressure builds, and just as I think I’m going to explode, that the pressure is too much—

  He stops.

  The bastard stops.

  “Frick,” I whimper, and he laughs, a glint in his eye.

  “You don't want me to stop?” he asks.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Oh.” He stands and kicks off his jeans, then positions himself back on the couch, pulling my panties down my thighs and tossing them aside. “So you probably don't want me to kiss you here.” He takes one of my legs and kisses the inside of my thigh. I shiver at the luscious touch.

  “Or here.” He inches closes to my core, and it takes all my self-control not to thrust in his face. God, I want this. I want this so much.

  “Or here.”

  I quiver as he kisses at the junction of my thigh and my body, and damn it, go down on me already!

  “Please,” I whimper.

  “Please what?” he asks, his head poised between my legs. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “Please … lick me.” The words are barely a whisper.

  “Hold on, Madison.” Cool air blows over my core, and my anticipation builds to fever-pitch. Is he even going to do it?

  And then he does. He licks between my folds, and my body goes limp. Fuck. Yes. He does it again, then finds my clit, his tongue flicking and licking and sucking as his fingers thrust into me. It’s a rapid assault of head-spinning sensation, and I clutch at his hair, pulling him to me, riding his face as the orgasm builds to glorious heights.

  He growls, and the vibrations run right through my body. One more suck, one more thrust, and I come undone, thrusting against his face as the waves of my orgasm wash over me. My chest heaves and I close my eyes for one long, blissful moment. God, that was … everything.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

  I blink my eyes open to see Tate hovering over me. He lowers himself to kiss me, and I taste myself in that kiss.

  “You ready for this?” he asks, blue eyes so close to my face.

  I nod, and he rips open a condom from who knows where and rolls it over his cock before positioning himself above me once again. He thrusts, and holy hell. He’s inside me.

  And it feels so fucking good.

  He pauses, those blue eyes locking on mine, as I revel in this feeling of being filled with him.

  Then our bodies move together, slowly at first, building to a passionate frenzy. My body tingles with his every touch, every time his fingers circle my nipple, flick at my clit, or tangle in my hair. Sensation builds inside me, and I’m close, so close, when he pulls out. I feel the loss immediately.

  “Wh … what’s wrong?” I ask, desperate for more.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” His voice is low and guttural. He pins my hands above my head. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” I breathe. He leans over and grabs my panties from where they rest on the floor, then loops my hands through one of the leg holes, twisting them around until I’m bound by a loose knot above my head.

  “Lose control, Madison. Don’t be anyone else. No responsibility.”

  I blink up at him. “Huh?”

  “Right now, you’re Madison, no strings attached. You’re that leaf, floating out to sea—only I’m here to guide you, to make sure you don’t float too far.” He licks his lips. Darkness flashes over his features, and my stomach pings. “And I can do whatever I want.”

  The power in his eyes as he says those words has me shivering. He’s giving me permission to not be Madison who’s something to someone. Right now, I can just be me. And he can do whatever he wants?

  It turns out he wants to lick me again, and he does. One long, delicious lick that has me quivering, pushing toward his touch.

  Then he thrusts his fingers inside me while his mouth goes to work on my nipples, one then the other, licking, sucking, pulling, biting, until I teeter on the brink of orgasm again. I’m powerless to stop his assault on my body, and I love every second of it.

  “Tate,” I groan. I’m a buzzing cell of senses, on the precipice of no return when—

  He stops.

  He just stops.

  “Please,” I cry, and he smiles. His lips are wet from my juices.

  “Please what?” he asks, and it’s all I can do not to rub myself against him.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper.

  And he does.

  Oh, does he ever. He lifts one my legs and places it over his shoulder, then he pumps into me. His cock hits a place deep inside I didn't know existed. Pleasure shoots through my core, building in my spine as he drives into me again and again.

  “Gonna come soon,” he grunts, only I can’t reply—the sensation has me in its grip. It builds, and it builds, and it builds, and as he roars out his release, I come undone around him. My orgasm controls every cell in my body. It’s pain and it’s pleasure, and it’s sweet, sweet release.

  And as he undoes my hands and rests his head on my chest, I know there’s no place I’d rather be.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tate

  She stays the night. We fuck.

  A lot.

  In the shower. On the bed. Over the table. On the balcony.

  It’s as if she’s a drug I can’t get enough of, and for some strange reason, she feels the same way about me. She’s so honest and innocent, so brave and yet timid—she’s a contradiction of a woman, and completely unlike anyone else I’ve ever been with. Together, our bodies connect—they just work in perfect synch. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.

  And I don’t want it to end.

  “What time is it?” she asks, her voice thick with exhaustion.

  I glance at the bedside clock. “Three in the morning.”

  “Shit.” She shakes her head. “I have this beach run thing at six-thirty.”

  “Do you have to go?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn't. What am I going to do? Keep her locked up in my hotel room, like some princess in a tower?

  Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I should keep her locked up in my hotel room like—

  “I do. I don’t back out of things I commit to.”

  “So that’s who Madison Winters is, huh?” I trace a finger around her nipple, and it stiffens into a little bud. God, I love her body. So responsive. Such a treasure trove of sensation. “A committer.”

  As soon as the word leaves my mouth, I want to slap mysel
f. Yesterday was the day she was supposed to have been married.

  By the look on Madison’s face, she feels the same way.

  “Shit, sorry. I didn't mean—”

  “It’s fine.” She waves the comment off, but sits up in the bed. “I actually had forgotten until now.”

  A frown mars her perfect forehead, and I just want to kiss it off. Instead, I sit up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her head to my chest.

  “What you said yesterday … about finding myself. Being me, without anything … any identity tie-ups.” Her voice is muffled against my skin.

  “Mmm?”

  “It made so much sense to me. I think … I think I need to be me. To find me.” She glances up, and her dark eyes look so lost as they gaze into mine.

  I tighten my grip around her, then lean forward to kiss her head. “I know you can do this.”

  She gives a small smile. “I know we barely know each other, but that means a lot.”

  Finding her clothes is like a Where’s Waldo hunt. Her panties are the last to be retrieved from the folds of the couch, and I almost want to keep them. But it seems a little sappy. Besides, housekeeping will be here in any moment, and it’s things like that which end up becoming fodder for gossip at the newsstand (Tate Masters masters art of wearing women’s underwear—I can see it now).

  At the door, Madison pauses, one hand on the white wooden surface. “I guess I’ll see you when the photographer arrives today.”

  Don’t go.

  Stay.

  “You will.” I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Oh, and when you leave? There’s a stairwell at the end of the hall. If you head down a few floors in that and then jump out, catch the lift … You won’t get spotted …” I trail off. Disappointment registers on her face for a split-second, but she covers it back up quickly.

  “Bye,” she whispers.

  “See ya.”

  And she leaves.

  It’s exactly how it should be. This was just sex, after all.

  But for some reason, as soon as she’s left, the air’s just a little harder to suck in.

  I turn on the air-con and go back to sleep.

  ***

  The shoot drags on for hours. My words stumble over each other, and it takes me five attempts to get the scene right.

  “Take five,” Julien calls, and Mikaela rolls her eyes as I curse under my breath.

  “You going to talk about what’s going on with you?” She hands me a water bottle, and I take it, grateful for the cold liquid.

  “Nothing.” I shrug it off. “Just a rough night’s sleep.” And a brunette I can’t get off my mind.

  “Sleep?” She scoffs. “Didn't sound like you had much of it.”

  My stomach twists. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not deaf, Masters. We share a wall between our rooms.”

  “I was watching porn.”

  “Mmhmm.” She gives me a very clear I don't believe you glare, then glances around to make sure no one is close enough to hear. “Whoever it is, you better make sure they keep it quiet. We cannot risk things getting out this close to the whole Shade thing.”

  “I know.” And I do. In the clear light of day, it seems a no-brainer. Don’t screw the sexy reporter. It’s only when I’m in her presence that I seem to lose control of my logical thoughts, and my desire to strip her naked, fuck her, protect her—

  Whoa.

  Back the hell up.

  Protect her? Where did that one come from?

  “You can’t risk delaying the shoot by showing up here half-asleep, with your brain all sex-drunk.”

  “Sex-drunk?”

  She shakes her head. “I can see it in your eyes. You practically smell like pussy. Just make sure you don’t screw this up, Masters.” Mikaela squeezes my shoulder. “I’m counting on you.”

  She has just as much to lose as I do.

  The problem is, I don't know how I can get Madison off of my mind.

  ***

  Madison

  The cell phone, when it arrives to my hotel room door, is unexpected. The white box containing the new iPhone comes with no note, but it doesn't take a genius to work out who it’s from. I can’t help but smile as I thank the hotel porter and open the box up, bringing out my new cell.

  New phone.

  New start.

  New me.

  Even though I’ve had something like three hours sleep, there’s an undeniable energy pulsing through me. It’s as if a weight has lifted from my shoulders—like I’m truly free.

  Tate gave me that.

  I hum as I shower, washing off the combination of sex and sweat from my run. Water sluices over my body, and as my fingers trail down my stomach I trace the path Tate did with his hands, his mouth, his dick, until my body falls apart again to the memory of him.

  No one has ever turned me on like he does.

  After my shower, I attend the morning yoga class. It’s without a doubt my worst attempt to date. Every stretch sends a new twinge of pain through my body, no doubt a result of some of the positions I bent into last night and in the early hours of this morning.

  “Are you okay today?” Selene asks softly, stepping around my mat as I move forward into warrior pose.

  “Yes thanks,” I reply.

  “The body can become stressed when you try too much, too soon,” she says in that calm gentle voice, and I can’t help the laugh that falls from my lips. To be fair, I did try a lot of new positions in a relatively short space of time. It made Missionary Mike seem incredibly bland.

  Luckily, Selene doesn't seem to notice my mirth—or perhaps she’s just decided to ignore it. Either way, she walks across the room to Kiara and I continue stretching out, trying to ignore the burn in my legs and not think how it’d feel to have Tate pumping into me in this position.

  At the end of class, Trevor waits outside. He nods as I walk past. “Madison, I have something for you.” He rifles around in his multi-coloured tote bag and pulls out a thick cream candle.

  “A candle.” The scent of lemons wafts over me as I take it from his outstretched hand.

  “After I saw you in the evening class, I thought you could use it. It’s a meditation candle. Before you go to bed, light it. Focus on the flame, and only the flame, then close your eyes and keep the image in your mind. Sometimes it can help turn off the outside world.”

  “Thank you,” I say, this time with a whole heap more sincerity in my voice. Anything that turns off the voices in my head has to be a good thing. And besides, that fresh citrus smell will be such a refreshing thing to wake up to.

  “Of course, you need to blow it out before you go to sleep. Fire hazard and all,” Trevor says, and I give myself a mental slap to the forehead. You can’t leave a candle lit overnight. Obviously.

  “Noted. Thanks again,” I say, and turn around. A familiar face awaits me.

  “Ready for action?” the man from the plane asks, a smirk on his face. He shifts his weight, and the camera slings from behind him to his rotund front.

  “You’re the photographer?” I ask.

  “Best they could get at short notice,” he says, as if it’s a feat to be proud of, then sticks out his hand. “The name’s Davo. And you must be Madison.”

  “Hi Davo.” I shake his sweaty palm and track his eyes as they move over my body, lingering on my hips. I glare at him. “Did you just watch me yoging?”

  “I don't think you can use that as a verb.”

  Great. Even the photographer’s a grammar expert. “Just let me get changed,” I say, and turn to head down the path to my room. “I’ll be back in twenty.”

  “I’ll just grab a bite to eat,” Davo calls, and I wave my goodbye.

  In my room, I spend a little extra time on my appearance. I dab concealer under my eyes, trying to disguise some of the evidence of my late-night activities. I run a brush through my hair, pulling it up into a ponytail, and smear some clear gloss over my lips. After thro
wing a black dress over my head, I study myself in the full-length mirror. I look—

  I look like the girl next door. So not movie-star-fling material.

  Still, I don't have much else to wear aside from more Lorna Jane gym clothes, and in this heat, leaving my brown locks out will result in a frizz reminiscent of pubic hair. In a fit of desperation, I grab an extra-large pair of sunnies to protect my sensitive eyes from the glare of the sun, then walk out the door, ready to watch the man who made me orgasm five times in one night make out with another woman.

  ***

  “Let’s try that again from a new angle,” Davo says, pointing to an area just to the left of Mikaela and Tate. Tate’s arms uncurl from Mikaela’s toned waist as he whispers in her ear, and she gives a coy laugh, slapping him on the chest. If I didn’t know better, I’d say their relationship was rock-solid.

  “These two … gold, right?” Davo elbows me in the side, snapping me out of my trance. “It’s hard to get a bad shot.”

  “Right,” I say.

  Watching the man I like pose seductively with another woman isn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.

  It’s a million times more difficult.

  Mikaela laughs again, and I clench my fists, trying to push down the completely irrational jealousy that burns inside me. It was just one night. It didn't mean anything. He didn't ask me to come back. He didn't say it was anything more to him than sex. He’s a movie star, for crying out loud. On no planet does this, the idea of him and me, work.

  My stupid heart seems to have other ideas, though, because when we move to the new position and Davo suggests a steamy make-out shot, even though I know she bats for the other team, I’m quick to veto it.

  “Or maybe we could do a cuter couple shot. You know, standing back to back, like you’re mad at each other.” My mouth is open before I even realise what I’m saying.

  Davo shoots me a disgusted look. “Lady, I wanna get paid. And that shot is not a winner.”