Centre Stage (Lies for a Living Book 2)

by Lissa Bilyk

  “Cam,” I said. “I mean it. Don’t do what you normally do. Let loose. Go wild.”

  “Oh, I will,” he said, and turned back to his closet. He pulled out two business ties and turned to face me, running them through his hands with relish. I felt my belly twitch in nervousness. Was this what he wanted to do to me?

  He crawled up the bed and instructed me to place one of my hands at the corner next to the post. I felt the silk of the tie slither around my wrists, caressing like a lover’s kiss, and gave an experimental tug.

  “Don’t pull too hard,” he said groping my breast before he moved to the other hand and repeated the procedure. “I don’t want you panicking so they’re not tight and will come loose if you pull hard enough.”

  “This is what you did with the other girls?” My voice came out in a squeak as he pushed me back down to the mattress and kissed my neck, moving down my throat to the exposed skin of my breasts.

  “No, silly. Whatever made you think I’d do that with you?”

  “I said-” I gasped as he tweaked my nipples through the material of my dress and my bra. “I said…” I tried to remember what I’d said. Had I come right out and told him to do to me what he did to the other girls? Or had my vagueness been lost in its subtlety?

  “You told me to stop lying to myself. So I’m doing what I’ve dreamed of doing ever since our first night together.” He undid the halter neck of my dress and unclasped my strapless bra, tugging them both down to expose my breasts. Then he fell upon then with ferocious savagery, his mouth launching a full frontal attack on the sensitive peaks.

  I squirmed in pleasure and moaned, the weight of him pinning me down. I desperately wanted to free my hands and run them over his glorious golden skin, but I did as he said and tried to keep them still. It wasn’t easy. He lay half on top of me, pressing his bruising cock into my bare leg, and massaged my mounds of flesh with both his hands. He periodically swapped between them, worrying my nipples with his tongue, his lips, nibbling on the soft skin around them.

  “Cam,” I moaned, desire spiking through me. I was desperate for him to enter me, to take me in any way so long as he filled me up. I ached with a sorrowful emptiness. He gave my breasts a final squeeze and lowered himself down my body, taking my dress with him, revealing my flesh below his delighted eyes, trailing after with his lips and tongue.

  Once I was completely naked he stopped. I went to reach for him as he sprang off the bed and said, “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

  “Cam?” I called after him, frustrated, watching his naked, muscular backside disappear through the bedroom door. If he thought this was funny, getting me all hot just to leave me hanging, then I’d… well, I’d be pissed off for one thing, horny and frustrated. I tugged on the ties, but an answering call from Cameron stopped me from attempting to undo them altogether and escape.

  He re-entered the bedroom brandishing a can of whipped cream.

  “Oh, my god,” I said. Three months together and we’d never even thought of doing this. Well, at least I hadn’t.

  Cameron kneeled on the bed and shook the can. I felt anticipation clench at my belly. He lay the nozzle over my breast and depressed the pointer.

  Cream spurted from the nozzle on to my breast and I squealed. It was cold!

  Cameron sprayed some on to my other breast, then settled over me and started lapping like a thirsty kitten. His tongue was smooth on my skin and warm where it removed the cream. I giggled and let my head fall back, but jerked up on shock when the can hissed again and cream appeared on my stomach. I tried to relax: the shock of the cold sent adrenalin spiking through me, and watching Cameron lick it off my pale skin made me wet. He moved on to my nipples next, the cold even more abrasive against my soft pink skin. Then he laid a trail from my breasts down my belly leading south, kissing and licking me thoroughly, heading always further south.

  “Cam,” I moaned again as his hands caressed my thighs. He looked up in amusement.

  “What is it? Tell me.”

  I licked my lips, hoping I looked seductive. “I want you inside me.”

  “I will be,” he growled as he lowered his face to my pussy and drew a long, languid lick right up the centre. I shivered in pleasure – his tongue held vestiges of cool, quickly replaced by my own heat. He grasped my knees and pushed them wider, the better to give himself access, and ran his tongue over me again.

  “Cam,” I gasped, my body twitching in uncontrollable spasms. He tortured me with his tongue, ignoring my squirms and my pleas. It was like he could read my mind – the instant I wanted to tear my hands free of the bonds and grab his head to steady him, or push him deeper, he’d do just that. My orgasm built as he found my special spot, the spot that I loved, the one spot where he could always, without fail make me come, and teased the tip of his tongue over it.

  “Cam,” I begged, breathless and desperate, my face hot and my pussy drenched and aching. He raised his head from his worship.

  “What, princess?” His smile was mischievous.

  I gazed at him down the length of my body and tried to make my most flirtatious eyes at him. “Make me come.”

  He slid a long finger inside my slit and nipped at my inner thigh. “You want to come, princess?”

  “Stop teasing me!” I said, frustration welling in my belly. I tried to close my legs and press down on his hand, desperate for the friction it might give me, but he forced then back open and licked me again, avoiding my clitoris.

  “But I enjoy it,” he murmured. “I love pleasuring you, and I love that I’m the one to get you off.”

  I cried out wordlessly as his tongue razed over my clit.

  “I love everything about, you Tori.”

  “Oh my god!” I cried as his thumb depressed over my clit and he slid a second finger in me to fuck me, the pressure of his digit finally giving me the release I craved. The orgasm swelled and broke over me and I screamed in bittersweet pleasure. Without meaning to, I drew my arms closer in to my body and broke the grip of the silk ties as my back arched against his insistent, gentle pressure. It was enough to have me writhing, screaming until my voice went hoarse, but no matter what I did, the pressure remained.

  Only when my jerking resided and I flopped to the bed like a rag doll did he remove his fingers. Dazed, half still in the bliss of my orgasm, I barely realised he slid over the top of me and took me in his arms, then guided his cock, hard like granite, into my welcoming, warm, wet centre.

  I clenched around him, loving the feel of his naked skin inside me, and tried to hold him there by wrapping my legs around him. He ignored my protests and withdrew almost all the way, then eased into me again, this slow, sweet agony that drew across all my nerves. His pubic bone nudged against my clit and he held himself inside me, as close as two people can be, gazing into my eyes, kissing me and stroking back the hair from my flushed cheeks. He continued his slow, treacherous way until I felt my second orgasm building. Each time me withdrew I lost it and had to build it back up again.

  I gripped his hips and tried to take him in close to me.

  “Is there something you want to say to me?” he asked playfully, grunting with his control and exertion.

  “Just fuck me.” The words slipped out, like they usually did, without me thinking, and with me wanting to round them up, hog-tie them and haul them back inside me.

  His eyes lit up. “You want to be fucked?”

  I nodded, breathless.

  “Do you want another orgasm?”

  “Yes!”

  He kissed me, hard. “Only when I say so, Tori.”

  My eyes flew wide. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He withdrew, still hard, and wordlessly eased me onto my stomach. He guided me onto my knees, spread apart my legs, and took me from behind. His strong arms wound around me, helping me to rise as he pressed his chest against my back. I found it harder to keep my balance so I sank back into him. One hand tightened just beneath my bosom, pinning me to him, the other hand
stroked over my belly. He made me yelp in pleasure, but I’d had enough: I needed to come. I moved my hand down to finish the job myself but he grabbed at my arm.

  “What did I just say?” he hissed in my ear, the nipped at it. I said nothing, just tried to concentrate on the feeling if his cock plunging into me again and again.

  “Do you enjoy ignoring my orders?” he asked me.

  I shook my head. What was he on about? Then sudden pressure on my shoulders flung me forward into the soft mattress, and he twisted both my arms behind my back and gripped them in one meaty fist. It wasn’t enough to hurt me, just enough to let me know he was in charge. He gripped at my hip with his free hand and pumped into me, and I moaned again and again as his cock went deeper, my face pressing into the mattress.

  Cameron reached around me and ran his fingers over my clit, then pinched. I wailed, pressing my ass back into his hips, trying to drop lower so he could go deeper inside me. His fingers delved down and ravaged my clit again until I came hard, my pussy contracting around his cock, my mouth full of bed sheets and passionate cries.

  I thought my second orgasm might make him come with me, with the strength of it, but he withdrew from me and let me flop to my belly as he went to retrieve something from the bedside table. He moved behind me again and I felt some cool and thick and viscous coat the cleft between my buttocks. I twisted to look over my shoulder at him.

  “Trust me,” he said. His soothing voice calmed my own nerves and I waited as he coated his fingers in lube and then ran one down my cleft – and into a place I’d never even thought to accept him before.

  “Relax, princess,” he encouraged me and I breathed deep, trying to do just that. He fucked me with his finger for a good minute before I felt I was adjusted.

  “I’m ready,” I told him, breathless.

  “I know,” he said, removing his finger. He pressed the head of his cock against my flesh and eased in. I tried to relax – it felt wrong, to be taking me like that, but at the same time deliciously naughty. I felt him take a deep breath with me and on the release he eased in again, past the protesting ring of muscle and deep inside me where no one had ever been before.

  I was beyond surprised to find that I liked it.

  “Have you done this before?” I managed to gasp, the sheets mangled in my tightening grip.

  “No princess,” he said breathlessly from above me. “Only with you.”

  “Harder,” I instructed him.

  He chuckled, and I felt him drop a kiss along my back. “Who’s in charge tonight?”

  “More,” I told him. “I want more!” I pushed my ass back towards him, desperate for him to surge into me, deeper, harder, rougher. He tightened an arm around my waist and stroked me hard with the other while his cock plunged into me, deep and slow. I felt like I was walking along the edge of a razor wire, unfamiliar sensations bombarding me from all over. After what seemed like an eternity he seemed to shudder with the inability to hold back any longer and started taking me in sharp, steep thrusts.

  I screamed his name as his fingers ravaged my clit and sent me over the edge, plummeting headlong into my third body-smashing orgasm. I felt Cameron shudder against me again, heard him shout my name as he, too, came within me, spilling his seed. I lay unmoving against the bed as he drew out of me – I missed the sensation already – then he helped me to my feet and we both stumbled towards the shower.

  Chapter Six

  Curled together in bed, I broke the silence first. “How long have you wanted to try that?”

  “Ever since I first saw you.”

  “You’ve been holding back on me for so long?”

  The silence stretched between us as he snuggled into me and tightened his arms. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you and I think you’re beautiful and sexy and smart and funny and all kinds of wonderful… but I never wanted to do wild things with you. I’ve done that stuff – sex in public, threesomes, orgies, you name it, I’ve done it. I don’t want kink with you, Tori. I get butterflies when I’m going to see you and half the time I’m walking around semi-hard anyway. Having sex with you makes me feel like a king. I want to grow old with you and have lots of babies and delight in your body. You’re my normal, beautiful, extraordinary girl.”

  “You realise that’s an oxymoron, right?”

  He pinched at my bare flesh. “Shush, you.”

  I smiled and fell silent for a moment, before another thought popped into my head. “So you only did that wild stuff with me because I wanted it?”

  He nuzzled into me. “Mmm-hmm. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  I squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to do that again, if you don’t want to.”

  “We’ll see,” he replied.

  A few minutes later he snored softly in my ear.

  The next day we were late rolling out of bed. Cameron only got up because Hayley had an appointment, and then he had two auditions in the afternoon. I went out to bring home some breakfast – today was Cameron’s cheat day and he wanted doughnuts. I was in the apartment foyer when my phone rang. I put the box down on Leslie’s desk and fumbled in my purse.

  “Hi baby,” I said, overly cheerful, turning my back on Leslie.

  “I forgot to ask, can you take me to my auditions this afternoon?”

  “Sure, where and when are they?” I asked Leslie for a pen and paper and he told me the time and addresses. I had nothing better to do that afternoon and I could go shopping while I waited for him. His auditions sometimes lasted twenty minutes, sometimes a few hours, and it was often difficult to find a place to park in central London. After we hung up I thanked Leslie sweetly and offered her a doughnut. Her face twisted into an expression of disgust, so I took one myself and bit into it.

  “Your loss: they’re delicious,” I said as I sauntered away.

  I invited Hayley to stay for a drink after Cameron’s training, figuring that if we were both targeted by the media maybe I could overlook the fact that she was friendly with my famous boyfriend and at least try to become friends. It turns out she was actually very sweet and caring, thought of Cameron as a brother, and was excited to become my friend. Me! As if she idolised me or something.

  After she left and Cameron had showered and dressed for his auditions, he told me that he talked a lot about me to her over the past few months, and he’d never talked to her before about girls. He’d first floated the idea of us moving in together before her, to get her reaction and advice, and she had been all for it. Well, who wouldn’t be in this huge, clean, white, light-filled penthouse suite? With a beautiful, glorious, wonderful man to warm one’s bed?

  We left for Cam’s audition in his shiny sleek silver Jaguar. I loved his car. Not being a ‘car person’ – though still not convinced such a thing exists, unlike ‘cat people’ and ‘dog people’ – I knew next to nothing about the Jag; but I loved it lines, and its purr, and the way it responded to my touch, like a lover. It was easy to drive in London in a Jag.

  I dropped Cameron off and did some shopping, picking up fresh fruit and vegetables for dinner and some nice steak. British beef was superior to Australian beef. I could surprise Cameron by cooking dinner. I wasn’t much of a cook – I liked the eating part, not so much the preparing part. I often felt like too much effort was put into something that was eaten in less the time it took to prepare. But tonight I would cook Cameron a healthy grilled steak and steamed vegetables, with maybe something with carbohydrates for myself. After all, I wasn’t in the same league as Cameron and not expected to maintain my body to his professional standards – and besides, steak was hard to fuck up.

  After his second audition – within walking distance of each other, which isn’t strange in London where a lot of the theatres are so densely packed together – I parked down the street from the theatre and waited. I checked my phone for any messages from John – his The Glass Menagerie meeting was today, too, I remembered, and I wondered if it had finished, and what the outcome was.
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  I jumped, startled, when the door opened and Cameron jammed his long body into passenger side seat. His face gave away nothing, and I knew better than to ask. It didn’t matter how well an audition went, sometimes they just weren’t looking for whatever an actor had to offer. Cameron had been rejected on the grounds of being too handsome, too tall, too fit, too old, too young, too boring, too intense, not big enough, not emotional enough… the reasons, when offered (and often they weren’t; because it’s not personal, it’s business) were varied.

  I looked over at my beautiful man, his piercing blue eyes hooded, and patted his knee.

  “There’s always the next job,” I said.

  He squeezed my hand. “One of them was for the next Bond. I didn’t even stand a chance: they only ever cast British actors.”

  “Not true,” I said as I drove us home. “George Lazenby was Australian.”

  “One film, and they kicked him out,” Cameron muttered darkly. “Current Bond’s not even six foot tall and here I am topping in at six five. Who’d cast a six five Bond? Why did they even bother to see me?”

  “It’s probably not the right fit,” I admitted. “Sean Connery was six two, wasn’t he? Was he the tallest?”

  In the rear vision mirror a black car followed me for two turns.

  Cameron noticed my distraction. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t mean to sound all MI6, but I think someone’s following us.”

  I watched in the rear vision mirror as the car followed me around several more turns and ran a red light to stay behind us. I feinted some turns and took ones that wouldn’t lead us to our destination to test my theory.

  The black car was still on us.

  I started to feel frightened.

  Cameron took my hand. “Relax princess, what could it possibly be? Immigration wouldn’t follow us, and besides, we both have dual citizenship.”