I, Porn Star (I #1)

by Zara Cox

  His breath hisses out. After a minute, he yanks his digit out. Then he’s back to kissing me. My fingers find his hair. I pull and scrape as my panties grow stupidly, shamelessly wet. His hands move roughly over my body, searching, imprinting, but his mouth never leaves mine. It’s as if he’s starved for it and doesn’t intend to let up until he’s engorged.

  My need to breathe becomes increasingly frantic, and I gulp in desperate lungfuls when he lets up. He rests his forehead against mine, rocks his hips into mine. The thick outline of his cock makes me struggle not to salivate like a hormonal teenager. But I can’t stop my hips from rocking forward too, from cradling him for a mad minute against my pelvis.

  He groans. “God, I want to fuck you till you break. I may not be the right person to put you back together, but I want to do it anyway.”

  I lift my gaze and am immediately annihilated by piercing silver blue pools of hell.

  “I can’t,” I breathe into his mouth.

  He kisses the words away, but doesn’t protest.

  I can’t have sex with him while I’m fucking Q. Even if I could get away with it, it feels wrong. But the temptation is there. God, how I’m tempted. Because if he fucks half as good as he kisses, I’m in for a wild ride. I lick my lips and attempt to step back. His grip tightens, and he growls under his breath.

  “Not yet.”

  “Quinn…”

  “Don’t go yet, Elyse. One more minute.”

  His ragged plea makes me melt back against the wall. “Okay.”

  This time his kisses are gentler. Like he’s feeding his depleted soul instead of the demons riding him. We stay like that for a long time, his mouth sipping and nipping at mine.

  Eventually he tears himself away with a harsh curse. He stares at me with a thousand horrifying emotions seething in his eyes.

  Then he walks away without a backward glance.

  34

  SCENE 3 - VIAGRA NIGHTS

  PART TWO

  “She’s on her way.”

  “How long?”

  “Depending on traffic, half an hour.”

  “You’re angry with me.”

  Fionnella sighs. “I don’t know what I am. But I do want to know what the hell you’re playing at. She wanted to stay at the loft. That was perfect. Why take her out? And why Juniere’s for God’s sake? Maxwell and Delilah could’ve been there.”

  “They weren’t.”

  “Would you even have noticed if they were?”

  My jaw grits. “Yes.”

  “Quinn, we’ve come too far for you to hit the self-destruct button prematurely when we’re this close.”

  I grip the phone tighter. “I need her, Nella.”

  “What about her? Paying her for a job she undertook with her eyes wide open is one thing. This…whatever you’re doing on the side with her… I can’t talk you out of it, I know. But her baggage is as heavy as yours. Take a moment before you drag both of you down.”

  “It’s too late.”

  She sighs again. “How did I know you’d say that?”

  “Because it’s always been too late.”

  “Quinn…” she stops and exhales. “Don’t take her to Juniere’s again.”

  I turn away from the Fifth Avenue view and rest my back against the cool glass. I hadn’t meant to take Elyse to Mama’s favorite restaurant or sit at her favorite table. That it happened at all is a puzzle I’m grappling with. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” she responds.

  “What about the Clay situation?”

  “I’m on it. I should have something for you by Saturday.”

  Fionnella is normally quicker than that, but I know what day tomorrow is.

  “Want some company tomorrow?” I offer.

  “No. But thanks.” Her voice is bleak and cold with long suppressed grief. “You know I prefer to do the drive on my own,” she adds roughly.

  The drive to Maine. To the grave where Michael, her son, is buried. It’s the anniversary of his death tomorrow.

  Michael Smith was my age when Adriana Nathanson got her claws into him. A two-tour Marine suffering from acute PTSD, the good doctor had fucked with his mind, while fucking him every chance she got.

  I met Fionnella Smith on the last day her son was alive. She accompanied him to Dr. Nathanson’s office because she was worried about his treatment. A chance meeting by the water cooler. A desperate confession of her fears for her son. My biting advice to take Michael and run. An email from her a month later that Michael had committed suicide. My own confessions of what those who were supposed to love her had done to Mama.

  Those events brought about this unlikely partnership. I may be fucked up beyond repair, but I’m not fucking this up for her.

  “Call me when you get back,” I say.

  “I will.”

  She hangs up, and I turn, lean my head against the glass. I want to blank my mind, but the voices won’t stop. Neither does the raw hunger that’s been plaguing me since I walked away from Elyse. Dinner was a bad idea. It opened me up to…a lot. I said things…felt things I can’t take back. Like telling her about Kiawah Island. She’ll only needs a quick internet search to connect the dots and find out that where Q took her and where Quinn was born are two properties within the same estate.

  Maybe I want her to make the connection? Maybe I’m tired of giving her one persona without the other. Of fucking her without showing my face.

  And that kiss. Fuck, that kiss.

  I groan, lift the glass of whiskey and take a sip. My cock is harder than fuck. But my mind hasn’t stopped reeling through events. Her hand on mine on the table. The sympathy in her eyes. The unexpected jolting of that charred lump in my chest. And this relief that I suddenly want? What the fuck is that about?

  How can I want respite now when it’s all coming to an end anyway?

  I drain the glass and toss it away, not caring where it lands. I press both hand against the glass and breathe, searching for a center I know isn’t there.

  I’m grateful when the concierge’s buzzer sounds. “Your guest has arrived, sir. Shall I send her up?”

  “Yes,” I croak.

  She’s here. The sharp edges of my lust glisten, readying itself to cleave. I step back from the window, go to the far side of the living room where the mask is waiting on the cocktail bar. Next to it is a solitary blue pill. I swallow the pill and put on the mask. The voice distorter goes in my mouth and I adjust the lighting. The cameras are already rolling.

  I open the door and wait for the elevator to arrive. This apartment is by far one of the most expensive of my New York portfolio. It’s also a Blackwood Estate apartment. Once going back to South Carolina became unviable, I chose this apartment.

  The elevator arrives and I see she’s heeded my instruction. The weather is cool enough for her to get away with a light coat covering her body. But I’m more interested in what she has on underneath. Or what she hasn’t.

  “Lucky.”

  Her head jerks in my direction, the blindfold I asked her to wear in the elevator firmly in place.

  “Hello, Q,” she responds huskily.

  I step forward to stop the doors from shutting and toy with the idea of sliding my fingers through hers like I did earlier this evening. Would she recognize Quinn’s touch?

  A part of me wants her to; the part of me that confessed to needing her to Fionnella. The part I haven’t been able to block out effectively since.

  Another part of me wants the game to continue forever.

  I catch hold of her wrist. Her perfume, the same one she wore to dinner, wraps around me as I walk her into the apartment.

  The moment the door shuts, I come up behind her, slide my arms around her waist to untie the coat. I release the single button and the coat slides off her shoulders.

  She’s naked, except for the lace topped stockings, the diamond necklace and her heels. I cup her shoulders and she shivers.

  “Did you enjoy your naked-under-the-coat ride across town, Lucky
?” I growl in her ear.

  “A little bit,” she mutters.

  “And when you talked to the concierge downstairs? Did you blush?”

  She bites her inner lip and her nostrils flare. “Possibly.”

  I turn her around, my movements a little rougher than I can control.

  Her mouth. Holy fuck, her mouth. Still swollen from my rough kisses a couple of hours ago.

  I pass a rough thumb over her bruised lower lip, the need to experience the kiss again making my cock throb painfully. I silently despise Quinn for taking what I can’t have.

  Shit. I’m jealous of myself. That’s how fucked up I am. The fact that I’m dying to kiss her again, but can’t in case she recognizes me, makes me want to lash out and cuddle her the same time. Jesus. I don’t know what the fuck I want.

  “Come here,” I growl, walking backwards. “Follow the sound of my voice.”

  She comes immediately. As I walk deeper into the living room, I can tell she’s aroused, already panting lightly. I clench my teeth against a moan and the need to take her, like right fucking now.

  The apartment is a minimalist’s dream of space and glass. The only significant pieces of furniture are the extra large, L-shaped white designer sofa and the floating fireplace. The soaring glass windows offer a stunning view of the city. The strategic lighting offers a modicum of privacy, but it’s not total. Anyone with a powerful set of binoculars can witness what’s happening in here.

  I lead her to the sofa and I sit down, spread my legs. “Stop.”

  She halts, her hands twitching at her side. “You haven’t had the privilege of sucking my cock yet, have you?” I rasp.

  Her panting increases a notch. “You know I haven’t,” she mutters.

  “Would you like to?” Why am I asking when I should be commanding?

  The answer ceases to matter when her head bobs and her tongue darts out to coat her upper lip. “Yes.”

  “Get on your knees. Slowly.”

  Her descent is smooth, measured. Her tits bounce lightly when she rocks forward onto her knees. My mouth dries as I gorge myself on her stunning beauty.

  “Come to me, Lucky.”

  She prowls forward and positions herself between my thighs with unerring accuracy. Her hands lift, pause. “Can I touch you?” she asks softly.

  “Fuck, yes.”

  My forceful answer brings a hint of a smile to her luscious mouth.

  “Does it amuse you, firecracker? To know how much I’m becoming addicted to your touch?”

  Her smile widens and her small hands find the inside of my thighs. “Not amuse, no. But I…like it.”

  I catch her hands in mine and drag them to the fastening of my pants. “Take me out. See how much you like sucking me, too.”

  Her fingers go to work. The moment she has me in her hands, her whole body tightens. She gasps softly and I watch her areolas break out in goose bumps.

  “Something wrong?” I ask redundantly.

  She swallows. “You’re so big. So hard.”

  “I’ve been inside you. You know how big I am.”

  She shakes her head as her hands tentatively explore me. I bite back a groan and take a deep breath. “This is different. Oh God, you took the Viagra?”

  Despite the tortured pressure in my balls, my mouth twitches. “Did you think I was joking?”

  Heat rushes up her neck into her smooth cheeks. “I wasn’t sure.”

  I grunt. “Now you know. You’re going to have me like this, all night. Jack me, Lucky. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

  Her hands close over me and work me up and down. The expert little flick of her wrists intensifies the pressure in my balls. Her lips part and her breath emerges in tiny, erotic puffs.

  I move my gaze from her mouth before I go insane. “Tell me. Did you enjoy your date?”

  Her movements halt for a nanosecond before she resumes her task. “You sure you want to talk about that?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not…appropriate.”

  “By whose definition?”

  Her mouth purses and she concedes the argument. “It was good.”

  My gaze fixates on her hands. I grit my teeth as her thumb catches a drop of pre-cum and spreads it down the underside of my cock. “Just good?” I grate.

  “Okay, it was better than good.”

  “Do you like him, Lucky? This guy you’re seeing behind my back?”

  “It’s not behind your back. And…yes, I like him.”

  I allow myself a smile. The sensation of it feels strange but I let it linger, and something lightens in my chest. Her hands tighten around my cock and the smile turns into a groan.

  “Are you trying to distract me, firecracker?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re doing a superb job,” I growl. “Jack it harder.”

  Her grip firms and my vision blurs. My head slams back into the seat, and I can’t help the muted roar that rips through my throat.

  I’m about a minute, tops, from coming. “Mouth, baby. I want your mouth.”

  Her soft lips close around my thick head, and my hips buck in wild response. Once I’m wet with her saliva, she attempts to take more of me. She works me in like a champ, her tongue circling and flicking like little flames of torture. In moments, she takes me to another plane.

  Fuck, she’s perfect.

  As sensation reels through me, I crack open a strange new door, and I contemplate what my life would’ve been like had I not been set on this path. Would I have found happiness with a woman like Elyse ‘Lucky’ Gilbert? Filled her cute little womb with my babies and let her shower them in love? She’s capable of it. Tonight I witnessed her compassion for Quinn. Watched her soft eyes drench with sympathy for his insanity.

  The picture grows. Its vividness threatens the obsidian foundations of my destiny. Enough to trigger a thick vein of desperation, which in turn triggers anger.

  I buck harder into her mouth. She gags and tries to raise her head. I plunge my fingers into her hair and hold her still. “Take it!”

  I tense in anticipation of her refusal. Instead, she takes a deep, noisy breath through her nose. Then opens her throat.

  “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Fire shoots through my balls, and I explode down her gorgeous throat. I come like a torrent, my curses ripping through the room as I buck like a fucking demented thoroughbred.

  She swallows every single drop, a sultry little smile of triumph teasing her lips.

  I don’t have the energy to call her on it. Instead, I bask in it as she gently massages my balls. I take five to catch my breath, then pat my thighs. “Come here, baby.”

  Lucky rises and climbs onto my lap. I’m still erect, and my cock rests between her pussy lips when she spreads her legs on either side of me. Her hips circle in cute little jerks as she fights the need to plunge down and fill her snug cunt with my cock.

  “Stay,” I warn.

  She whimpers, but her hands rise to rest on my shoulders. Her fingers play with the hair on my nape as I take turns licking and sucking her beautiful nipples. Her wetness soaks the head of my cock, but she doesn’t go beyond teasing herself with my tip.

  “My little firecracker, you’re so good,” I murmur against her skin. “Do you want to be rewarded for being my excellent little slave?”

  “I’m not your…” She stops. I look up to catch her biting her lip. “Yes,” she blurts.

  I laugh. Another titanium string anchoring me to my blackness snaps free. My laughter strangles.

  What the fuck is going on?

  “Stand up. Turn ninety degrees to your left and walk forward in a straight line. Slowly.”

  She tenses at my hard tone, but she does as she’s told. I get off the sofa and kick off my pants. My dick is rock hard again. The sight of her, black stockings caressing her legs, swaying sinuously on those heels, turns me harder still.

  I prowl after her. “Hands out in front of you now.”

  She reaches out, to
uches the cool glass wall. I stop behind her. She’s so fucking small. I want to protect and possess. I want to absorb her into me and make her fly at the same time.

  I shut off my increasingly disturbing thoughts and plant my hands on either side of hers. Our bodies are so close I feel the soft heat vibrating off her. I want to bask in it so bad, my vision blurs. “You know where you are?”

  She shakes her head. Her hair is styled up. I lean forward and bite lightly at her nape.

  “You’re in front of a glass wall. The light is dimmed, but the glass is still see through. We’re on the thirtieth floor, but anyone who’s really looking can see you. What do you think about that, firecracker?” I whisper in her ear.

  Her throat moves. “I…I don’t care.”

  My cock jumps, slapping her lightly on the ass. “Why don’t you care?”

  “Because I just want you to fuck me,” she replies shakily.

  “So you don’t mind who sees me cramming that tight little pussy?”

  She moans, a soft and needy sound that makes my cock slap her again. “Your body. Your pussy. However you want it.”

  A red haze blankets me. “Jesus. Where the fuck did you come from?” The raw question burns my throat. Another million alien sensations lance me as I place my hands over hers.

  I don’t even need to tell her to part her legs, pout her sexy rump toward me. I bend my knees long enough for my cock to find her entrance. An upward thrust sends her to her toes. Her scream is fucking ambrosia. She turns her head and places her cheek against the glass. And I fuck her long and hard and deep until she comes and collapses into my arms.

  I carry her sweet weight to the rug before the fireplace. Wait for her to catch her breath. Then I take her ass.