Kicking Reality

by Kat T. Masen

  The new me wants to crawl into a hole and die.

  “I’m sorry Em. I was drinking and shouldn’t have been so forceful. I know you’re angry, I mean fuck, you didn’t get home till after four,” he says in desperation, pacing up and down the kitchen, stopping only to shove a bagel in his mouth.

  It appears I’m listening attentively, quiet and allowing him to speak. But my head is pounding like a bitch and I am ready to call quits on life and climb back into bed.

  “I was angry,” I tell him in a hoarse voice. “Not just at you.”

  “Your brother?”

  I nod, keeping my words to a minimum. Talking hurt my brain.

  He continues to talk but I’m half listening. Last night was . . . I don’t know. I was bold, brave, something I hadn’t been in a long time. I took that bold me and pretty much offered to be Logan’s fuck buddy. What was I thinking? Like he needed a fuck buddy. I knew enough to know that he pretty much fucked whoever and whenever he liked. There is no shortage of fucking. Probably what happens when you’re crowned hottest athlete. I hated to admit that I sold myself short, desperate for anything to make me wild and careless.

  After we both admitted that spending a night together would be harmless fun, we jumped into a cab where we made out for the entire ride to the hotel. The cab driver warned us several times that he charged extra to be a mobile sex vehicle. It was enough to break the ice, laughing for one moment and kissing heavily the next.

  Kissing Logan was something else. I wasn’t the biggest fan of kissing. I mean, it’s nice and everything but I guess after years of being in a relationship, you avoid the warmup and head straight for the main show. Yet something about him was different. It was intense. Several times I found myself pulling back because he almost dry-humped me into an orgasm. This coming from the guy who had zero appeal to me weeks ago, and now, I wanted him naked underneath me while I rode him like a cowgirl hitching a ride to town.

  Stop thinking about riding him. You know he is well endowed. It practically poked your eye out in the cab.

  “He’s a guy, Em. Men are programmed differently than women.”

  I focus on Wesley, unsure of what we were talking about. Taking a punt, I comment, “Yeah, I know. But vows are vows regardless of how long you’ve known the person.”

  “You’re right.”

  “You’re agreeing with me?” I answer in shock, wishing I didn’t stretch my eyes because the pain was unbearable.

  “Yeah, marriage is sacred. People fuck up, don’t punish them for a lifetime because mistakes are just that—mistakes.”

  I can see he is still trying to justify his behavior in Amsterdam. If I had more energy, I could have debated that topic and left a very negative vibe in this room. George had walked in moments earlier, sniffing at his bowl and staring back at me with pitiful eyes because I hadn’t put out his kibble. I knew what he was thinking: ‘There they go again, fighting over the same thing. I wish things never changed. Why is Daddy such a douchebag?’

  Opening the bottom cupboard, I take out the bag and pour a small amount into his bowl. Even then, George sniffs the bowl and holds back his need to snack on the dry food. George is a peculiar dog; only eating food when everyone leaves the room and even then, he waits minutes not wanting to be caught.

  “He’s your brother. That’s family, Em. Just don’t let it get to you.”

  Wesley was never ‘pro’ family. His mom is a well-known gold-digger that married some billionaire and moved from Bel-Air to the South of France. Her priorities were men and money. Although Wes hated talking about her, I could tell that he didn’t approve of her lifestyle and wished he had a mother less involved in herself. I had met her twice in our relationship and each time I wondered how a woman could be so possessed by wealth. She was never shy in parading the fact that her son is a well-known star. Her only disappointment was Wes’s sister—Clara. She lives in Utah on some ranch with her husband and two sons. A stay-at-home mom that couldn’t care less about money.

  Ash is something else though. Sure, I was livid that he could so easily disregard his marriage for a night but I didn’t expect him to be at the hotel—alone.

  Logan pushes my body against the mirror that lined the elevator; sliding his hand up my leg and settling on the back of my thigh. His kisses were fast, desperate, and left me breathless. He did this thing where he moaned every time I grinded him. I fucking loved it, purposely doing it on repeat so I could hear his frustration come out each time.

  The elevator pings and I push him away with force to the other side of the elevator, bowing my head as the doors open to hear Ash’s voice.

  “There you guys are. I was beginning to worry.” He pauses, and it gives me a chance to look up. “What’s going on? Wait, did you guys get into a fight again? I swear I can’t fucking take you two anywhere. Just move on will you?”

  “Actually.” I clear my throat. “There was this crazed homeless guy around the corner and he started chasing us so we ran hence why we’re out of breath.”

  “Yeah,” Logan follows. “I think he had a knife.”

  “A knife?” Ash stares at the both of us like we’re crazy.

  We nod.

  “It doesn’t explain the wig and mustache.”

  “Funny story.” I laugh, trying to ease the nerves. “Our cab driver took a wrong turn and we didn’t want to head home so we went to this bar and there happened to be a costume shop. We thought why not have some fun you know?”

  We step out of the elevator, Ash standing with his arms folded and brow raised.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Ash proceeds to whine. “I would have been all for dressing up like an aging porn star.”

  Logan chuckles, ripping his mustache off with a pained face and removing his wig. His hair is a wild mess, and I find myself gawking at it like a fool.

  “Maybe next time.”

  Ash foiled our plan to get naked and join the friends-with-benefits club. It wasn’t such a bad thing. Logan and I were just crazy together. It’s like he brought out this other person in me that lay dormant and just wanted to throw all caution to the wind not realizing the amount of trouble we could get into.

  I’m distracted by my phone; the vibration causing it to sound against the marble top.

  We need to talk. Meet me at my hotel in an hour. My plane leaves at noon.

  Why did everyone want to talk this morning? I read the text and quickly erase it, not wanting Wes to see. I pop two Advils into my mouth accompanied with a tall glass of water.

  “I have to go.”

  “Where?” he questions raising his eyebrow.

  “I have that fitness shoot this morning and have to pick up a couple of things.”

  “Right . . . what things do you have to pick up?”

  “Feminine products.”

  He instantly backs off, turned off by the prospect of shopping for tampons. The lie pays off as he leaves the room allowing me to finally get some peace and quiet.

  Inside the confinement of my room, I quickly respond telling him I’ll be there in thirty minutes. I sort out my bag and pack my things. The shoot is at eleven and if the traffic isn’t too awful, I would have enough time to see Logan then quickly dash to the shoot for hair and makeup. I was already dressed in my yoga pants and tank, adding a cap just to cover my face from the sun.

  Wesley is sprawled on the sofa, wearing only a pair of shorts as he aimlessly channel-surfs. He usually visited the gym early but lately, he’s been hanging around doing nothing. Even though we weren’t together, I still noticed his behavior and how he had lost the motivation he once had. A part of me felt guilty, knowing my constant cold shoulder made it impossible for either of us to be happy. Then I remember how it all started and I’m back to sporting the shoulder.

  “I’m going. I’ll be back here after lunch when Karl and Josie arrive.”

  “What?” His mood shifts, tone agitated. “We’re fucking filming again today?”

  I’m surprised at his
outburst. “You wanted to continue filming, Wesley. Poppy is coming over so make sure the apartment is clean.”

  “We are both contracted to film.” He softens his voice. “It’s just not fun anymore with you being so . . .”

  “So what?”

  “So distant.”

  “Maybe I have been distant,” I say in haste, “but it’s not without reason. Like I said, I’ll be back.”

  I walk off, making a conscious effort not to slam the door is his face. I am tired, irritable, and just want this day over with. If it weren’t for meeting Logan, I would have brought George with me. Instead, I left him with a cranky father and an unappetizing bowl of kibble.

  With my cap down and shades on, I wait in the elevator with two teenage girls that had just been in the pool. They’re wearing almost matching bikinis that barely hide their assets.

  “Oh my god Livvy, did you know that Logan Carrington was staying at the hotel? Maddie said she saw him in the lobby yesterday.”

  “Are you kidding?” She places her hand on her heart, chewing gum at a fast pace. “OMG that means he’s probably with Ashley Chase. I swear I would blow him in a heartbeat.”

  I’m secretly dying in the corner. The elevator is ridiculously slow and hearing about your brother being blown is enough to hurl in the corner.

  “They are so hot,” she squeals. “We should go find them!”

  “I think I saw them coming out of their room on level five,” I tell them, keeping my face hidden.

  In the corner of my eye I see them look at each other.

  “Are you trying to find them too?”

  “Me?” I laugh. “No, I’m not into celebrities at all. I think they’re sell-outs.”

  The comment is enough to put the girls off and surely, they exited on level five on the hunt for their soccer stars.

  I exit on level twenty-two, taking a left and hoping I didn’t run into Ash. They were on the same floor but in different rooms. A request from Logan because Ash snored like a freight train.

  The door to room 609 is in front of me. Knocking gently, I wait for any sounds of life before knocking harder. The door opens and Logan is standing at the entrance, wearing a towel around his waist with his hair dripping wet.

  Don’t look at his body.

  Ignore the pack of abs screaming ‘lick me.’

  I smile politely, then walk in holding my breath then letting it go when I scan the room. Logan is a complete neat freak, the opposite of Ash. He made his own bed and even hung the towels in the bathroom. The room is modern, drapes open slightly to allow the morning sun. I turn back around to face him.

  “Did I miss the memo to work out?” he jokes.

  I try to hide my smirk but it’s impossible, especially as he stands there tempting me so bad.

  “Did I miss the memo to join the Swedish hot-tub club?”

  Logan chuckles, his wide grin accentuating his strong jawline. “I was taking a shower.”

  “How convenient of you?” I say, holding his gaze.

  A look passes between us, and not to show how uncomfortable I am, I walk to the window and pretend to be looking at the view. I had to admit it is stunning, the Hollywood Hills in the distance and blue skies gracing us on the beautiful spring day.

  As I look around, I notice a couple in the apartment block the next street over. They’re inside what looks like a living room and the chick is on all fours as a guy eats her out from behind.

  “Oh my God!” I gasp, covering my mouth instantly.

  “What?” Logan stands behind me, a little too close. I could feel the towel touching my yoga pants.

  “That couple.” I point.

  “Oh yeah . . . them.”

  “Oh yeah them?” I repeat. “You’ve been here a day and you’re talking about them like you’re besties.”

  “They caught my eye yesterday. Although, he had his cock in her ass that time.”

  My eyes widen, the heat rising beneath my skin. Logan mentioning the word cock just did something to me that needed to be restrained or I would jump him with that towel on.

  “Nice.”

  He laughs, placing his hands on my shoulder while massaging them gently. “There’re many words to describe being ass-fucked but nice is probably not one of them.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I admit, immediately regretting it. “Wow! Those palm trees are tall!”

  He turns me around, his stance intimidating me.

  “You don’t go from telling me you’ve never had a dick in your ass to the height of palm trees.”

  “Uh . . . whatever.” I roll my eyes at him. “I bet you’ve fucked a million girls that way, man-whore.”

  Logan continues to laugh irritating me further. “Believe it or not, no. When I fuck I want it over and done with. Out of my apartment.”

  “Nice,” I say again, with a fake smile.

  “That’s not nice, Emmy. I sense some jealously in your voice.”

  “Me?” I point to my chest. “Jealous of what? I know what you’re like, Logan. It’s not a secret. I came here to talk because you wanted to talk. So talk.” I fold my arms, keeping myself protected.

  “You’re hot when you’re angry. Do you know that?”

  “Yes I do,” I respond with sarcasm.

  He rubs his chin, making it hard for me not to notice the playful grin he continues to maintain.

  “About last night . . .”

  Of course it was about last night. What did I think it would be about? “Yeah?”

  “I was going to fuck you,” he states firmly.

  “And? I was going to fuck you.”

  “Then we didn’t.”

  “Well Ash being a cockblocker is nothing new. Once, in high school, Mom and Dad were away and I brought this guy home. I swear Ash had his radar on because he clung to me like a bad smell.”

  Logan’s grin disappears, his muscles tightening with a pinched expression. If I didn’t know better, he looked jealous. I wanted to laugh . . . how could he be jealous of something that happened in high school?

  “Wait . . . are you jealous? You know jealously looks nice on you,” I tell him playfully.

  “Stop with the word nice.”

  “Fine, but you’re jealous. Just admit it.” I poke at his chest, an excuse to touch him.

  “I’m jealous that other men get to touch you but I don’t.”

  I stand perfectly still, heart racing followed by quick breaths. His stare is persistent, making it hard for me to think straight. The green is his eyes made it hard to notice anything else but this hard stare that made me want to fall to the ground and beg him to have his way for me. And then, I remember our pact—to have fun. Our little secret.

  “Then touch me,” I whisper.

  He raises his fingertip and traces my cheek.

  “We need to agree this is just for fun.” He keeps his voice low. “Just between us.”

  I nod. I didn’t want anything else from him but this escape.

  “And fucking you won’t just be nice,” he accentuates. “If I fuck you, you’re going to feel it.”

  Inside I have already descended into orgasm mode, but to keep my tough-girl persona, I think of a way to challenge him. I didn’t want him to think he had the upper hand.

  “You’re on, Carrington.” I tug on his towel, watching it fall to the ground. I’m taken aback by his cock standing hard. I’ve never been one to analyze one with such detail but his looks absolutely perfect.

  I fall onto my knees, wrapping my hand around it. His body instantly jerks; the moan follows as his hand wraps around my head. I stroke it gently; his skin so soft yet rock hard beneath my grip. As I move my head in, I open my mouth accordingly and allow my lips to wrap around him, sliding him into me as his whole body buckles forward.

  “Fuck,” he moans, pushing my head into him.

  I take in as much as I can, his growl coercing me to go deeper. His cock hits the back of my throat; my reflexes pushing him back out in between my attempts to catch
my breath. Beneath my yoga pants, my thin cotton panties soaked, waiting for him to rip all my clothes off and fuck me hard like he promised.

  I pull his cock out of my mouth, and with barely any breaths tell him, “Fuck me like you promised.”

  His expression is pure torment, using all his strength to pull me up and toss me onto the bed. I lay back, fully dressed as he strips me bare leaving me naked in front of him.

  He remains dead quiet, silently admiring the view in front of him. His eyes begin to wander, eating me up as they burn with fire when they land on the prize.

  Spreading my legs with force, he positions himself in the middle, resting on his knees with his cock sitting at the entrance, gently caressing my clit. I close my eyes, moaning in delight as my back stretches against the white sheets.

  He slides himself in, then waits, not moving and keeping himself buried. I open my eyes, maintain an even breathing pattern to stop myself from coming straight away. His lack of movements leave me wondering, but now is not the time for questions.

  “We were supposed to talk,” he strains.

  “You’re buried inside me. I don’t know how coherent our conversation could be.”

  He thrusts forward, catching me off guard and making me moan.

  “When I’m fucking you, it’s just you and me.” He commands that of me, his tone rigid, posture straight demanding I listen to him.

  “It’s just you and me,” I repeat, above a whisper. “But who else would it be? I’m not into threesomes Logan.”

  His body falls onto mine, lips touching as he kisses me deeply. Moaning into his mouth, I place my hands on his back, scratching from top to bottom as he lays still again.

  I had never been slow-fucked before. Not realizing how intense everything could be in slow motion.

  Lifting his head, he drops it again into the crook of my neck, tasting the sweat off my skin. The tip of his tongue dances against my skin until he has found my lobe, biting on it while using his hand to fondle my breast.