All I feel is my love for him. My lust and hunger and this urge to make him mine forever and ever.
Dean feels the same, I think. He can’t stop touching me, running his hands up and down my body. He can’t stop kissing me, either. I give as good as I get. I touch him, play with his hair, rake my nails down his sweaty back.
It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world, being connected to him like this. My best friend. My soulmate. The love of my life.
Dean’s strokes become faster, more urgent. They shake my entire body, making me moan into his mouth. I feel my climax building and building, deep in my lower belly.
The moment Dean circles his arms around my back and hugs me to his chest like he needs me, needs my skin to breathe, it washes over me.
My second orgasm is even more intense, more charged up. I’m moaning, shaking constantly, massaging his dick with my pulsating channel. It triggers Dean’s climax and he whips his cock out, spilling his cum over my stomach. It’s hot and thick and smells like all my lustful dreams put together.
We breathe into each other’s mouths, kissing lazily, trying to slow down our hearts. Although, I don’t think that’s happening any time soon. Our hearts are probably not going to relax for a long while, especially, if sex is going to be like this every time.
Dean stops kissing me and I open my eyes to find him watching me. “What?”
He traces a finger over the apple of my cheek. “You’re fucking stunning.”
I blush. “You are too.”
He chuckles and presses a kiss on my nose. I smile at his tender gesture.
“Mom always knew,” I tell him.
“What?”
“My mom. She always knew that I loved you and that you loved me.”
Dean goes rigid over me. Rigid and frowny. It’s like I’m hugging a mountain with my thighs and arms. “I’ll handle your dad.”
“Uh, no. We’ll handle him. Together.”
“Fallon, you’re—”
I put my finger on his soft mouth and squeeze his waist with my legs. “Oh, were you going to say something like . . .” I deepen my voice to mimic his. “Fallon, you don’t know how to do these things. Because you’re just so young and naïve.” Rolling my eyes, I say, “You know what, maybe you were right. Maybe I should’ve gone with a guy my age. At least, he wouldn’t be so bossy.”
Dean’s eyes flare and he removes my finger from his mouth. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk about other guys when my dick is this close to your pussy.”
I feel him getting hard and grazing my still-wet core. “You’re bad, Dean.”
Smirking, Dean rubs our noses together. “You’re no saint, Fallon. You seduced me.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
The look in his eyes changes, becomes grave as he declares, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
As he enters me once again, I close my eyes and smile. I think of something my mom always said to me when I was a kid and didn’t know why some days were sad for me. And why, on those days, I felt like crying or sleeping.
She always forced me to get up, to keep going. She told me I was a fighter. That if I didn’t face the day, I’d miss out on so many things, so many possibilities. She told me I was born with more than blood in my veins. I was born with strength.
She was right.
But I was also born with something else. I was born with love.
Love for this man.
I was born with love for Dean and now that I have him in my arms, I’ll never let him go.
♬
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Say It First
Nikki Sloane
“Say It First” – Sam Smith
CHAPTER ONE
Anna
I left my agent’s office with an assignment—choose my next role, so he could give both studios an answer tomorrow.
Anxiety poured into my stomach as I rode the elevator down to the lobby. My last movie had opened big, but I was still at a precarious stage in my career. If I didn’t line up a good project, I’d risk fading into obscurity, and taking a wrong step wasn’t an option.
A distracting Facebook notification leaped onto the lock screen of my phone. Someone had mentioned me, Annalise Shrader, in a comment. Which was strange. I’d been going by Anna Douglas ever since I moved to LA, and it was weird seeing my OG name.
My profile was set to private, and I didn’t post—it was only to keep up with my relatives and stay connected. So who was this Samantha Hidenrite who’d tagged me?
I pulled the app open as I strolled off the elevator and headed for the exit, only to slow to a stop. Her profile picture, even as the small icon, was familiar, and the group where she’d posted her comment made it click into place.
Philpot High School - Class of ’09, the banner across the top read.
Samantha Hidenrite—Sam Richards as I’d known her ten years ago—had added me to the Facebook group last week. She was organizing our high school reunion, which wasn’t surprising. In school, she’d been homecoming queen, a cheerleader, and a classic overachiever. We weren’t friends back then. Like the rest of my classmates, she’d looked down on me as a drama club freak.
Why the hell were we Facebook friends now? She must have requested me at some point, and I’d accepted. My mother would say it was because I was too nice, but it was entirely possible I’d done it out of pettiness. The industry was hardening me up.
I scrolled to the post and then her comment.
Samantha Hidenrite Still haven’t heard from a few of you. It’d be so awesome if we could get most of the class together! I’m sure @Annalise won’t come.
Tim Washburn Did Anna say she couldn’t?
Samantha Hidenrite I assume. Seems like once she got famous, she forgot we existed. Not like @Jamie Campbell.
My grip tightened on the phone. How ironic. She pretended I didn’t exist in high school but didn’t like it when the roles were reversed. I turned the screen off and pushed my way through the revolving door out into the Los Angeles sun.
I hustled across the sidewalk in a huff, down the street, and into the parking garage. I’d been home to Kentucky plenty of times since I’d started my acting career, but my visits had been less frequent recently. My schedule was a nightmare because I was always working, but that was a good problem to have, wasn’t it? Plus, the press tour for my last movie had eaten away any desire to travel.
Right now, I needed to focus on my decision about The Blindfold Club project, not be thinking about my ten-year reunion. I hadn’t enjoyed my four years at Philpot High School and had no plans to go back.
I climbed into my car, set my phone on the dash holder, and as I stuck my keys in the ignition, a new notification caught my attention.
Jamie Campbell mentioned you in a comment.
There was a strange flutter in my chest. Jamie had always been friendly, but we hadn’t been friends. I’d probably spoken to him a handful of times. But everyone in Philpot knew him. Probably all of western Kentucky did. Until last year, he was easily the biggest thing to come out of our sleepy town.
Had I surpassed him in the fame department? It was tough to say. I didn’t follow NASCAR, but a lot of people back home did. He was a professional race car driver, and that made him Philpot’s favorite son.
Samantha Hidenrite mentioned you in a comment.
I tried to ignore the notifications as I turned my car key. The air conditioner blasted to life, blowing my brunette hair back over my shoulders. Was Jamie’s hair still sandy colored? Or had it darkened as he’d gotten older?
Jamie Campbell mentioned you in a comment.
“Okay, what the hell?” I muttered. I snatched the phone up and went to the notifications.
Jamie Campbell Not sure why I got dragged into this
, but @Annalise Vandevere was in town over Christmas.
Samantha Hidenrite I just meant you come back a lot and do stuff for the community. @Annalise doesn’t. She acts like she’s embarrassed by us. So I’m not going to hold my breath on her showing.
Jamie Campbell I’m sure @Annalise really wants to come now. Good job, @Sam.
He knew I was home over the holidays? I typed out a snarky response to Sam but deleted it. Then I drew in a deep breath and thumbed out a new response.
Annalise Schrader I’m not going to be able to make it work with my schedule, but thanks for thinking of me!
I wondered if she’d understand the passive-aggressive dig. What was her deal? I was by no means ashamed of my hometown. My parents and extended family still lived there.
Jamie Campbell wants to be friends on Facebook.
There it was again. That weird fluttering in my chest, which was ridiculous. He’d been pretty cute ten years ago, but I didn’t get star-struck. I’d learned no matter how big a star seemed to shine, they were still just regular humans like the rest of us. If anything, meeting them caused the luster to fade.
I pushed the ‘confirm’ button without thinking about it.
We’d run in different circles, but I’d never heard anything bad about him. Just a rumor he’d gotten a speeding ticket for taking the Salem Drive challenge—where you drove on the rural road that ran alongside the bypass. The goal was to match the speed of the cars on the freeway.
They said he’d been going eighty and sweet-talked the female cop out of losing his license.
The chat icon lit up.
Jamie: Is it cool I said you were home during Christmas? I realized after I posted you might not want people to know. I can delete.
Jamie: Also, hello.
Me: Hi! No worries, it’s fine.
My trip had been low-key, so I was curious.
Me: How did you know?
Jamie: My mom. She does your mom’s hair.
Me: Oh, that’s right!
Jamie: Also, what’s up with Sam? Was she always like this?
Me: No idea. I wasn’t cool enough to be friends with her.
Jamie: Hey, me neither.
He was being humble. He’d been the epitome of cool.
Jamie: She’s messaged me a dozen times about coming. It doesn’t rate real high on my priority list. I hated high school.
I tugged my eyebrows together in surprise. I didn’t enjoy my time there, but hate was a strong word.
Me: Really?
Jamie: Yeah. Busywork to get ready for college. I wasn’t going. I already had a car and sponsor lined up my senior year.
Jamie: I was counting down the days till graduation.
Me: Same.
Jamie: Did you always want to be an actor?
Me: Yup. You always wanted to be a driver?
Jamie: Yeah. I think we’re the only ones out of our class who knew what they wanted to do. And neither of us will be at the reunion.
Me: You’re not going?
Jamie: No. It’s in the middle of race season. Even if I wanted to, the closest airport to home is two hours away.
Me: Yeah. It’s not the easiest place to get to.
Jamie: Sam will be pissed when she finds out, but she has no clue what our lives are like. My schedule’s bad. I bet yours is worse.
Me: I stay busy. Although right now I’m just sitting in my car.
Jamie: Hey, same for me. Which race track are you on?
Me: You’re on the track right now?
Jamie: No, I’m kidding. I just finished training. Why are you just sitting in your car?
Me: I had a meeting with my agent.
Jamie: Was it . . . bad? Your car’s not running in a closed garage, right?
Me: No, it was a good meeting, but I have to make a decision between two films for my next role.
Jamie: You picked the right place to work it out. I do my best thinking behind the wheel.
Jamie: Although my crew chief might disagree.
My short laugh punctuated the silence inside my car. This conversation was surreal, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
Jamie: Can I help? Want to pro/con it with me?
Lord help me, I considered his offer. He was basically a stranger, but at the same time, not. He’d been a nice guy ten years ago. There wasn’t risk in doing it. I wouldn’t put anything in the chat I didn’t feel comfortable getting out, and I had ‘mom’ insurance anyway. His mother was my mother’s hairdresser, and in the South, that was the ultimate level of trust between women.
Jamie: I did a commercial for spark plugs last year, so I’m an expert at acting.
Jamie: Full disclosure, it was one line and I fucked it up, but still consider myself an expert.
Me: One role is a rom-com. The script is funny, but the director’s last movie didn’t do well. They haven’t cast the male lead yet.
Jamie: OK. What about the other one?
Me: The script is amazing. Director has won two Oscars.
His message popped through while I was still typing.
Jamie: So maybe do that one.
Me: The problem is it’s sexy.
Jamie: How sexy?
Me: The role calls for full-frontal nudity.
Jamie: Are you serious?
Me: Yup.
The Blindfold Club was based off an anonymous memoir written by a high-end escort, and the book was currently sitting on the New York Times bestseller list.
Speech bubbles danced across the screen, showing he was typing, but then they disappeared. Finally—
Jamie: OK.
I chewed on my lip at his plain response. In fairness, when he’d started this chat, he hadn’t been expecting to help me decide if flashing my vajay was a good career move.
Me: I don’t have a problem with nudity, but should I cross that line? This movie could be huge, but it’s a gamble.
Jamie: So, rom-com = safe.
Me: Yes.
Jamie: Sexy movie is high-risk, but maybe high reward.
Me: Yeah.
Jamie: I’m probably the wrong guy to ask. I like risk.
Of course, he did. Every Sunday he drove in circles at two hundred miles an hour, knowing any second a crash could send him into the wall.
Jamie: If you turn down the sexy one, how will you feel about it a year from now?
If I passed on The Blindfold Club, I was certain I’d spend the rest of my life wondering, “What if?” The role was an original. Not like the rom-com, where the chances of me being offered a part in some similar movie down the road were likely.
I was lost in my thoughts as I stared out the windshield, not seeing anything beyond the glass. Jamie had asked me a simple question, and it had given me my answer. Excitement skittered down my body, confirming I was making the right choice.
Me: I’d have regret. OMG, thank you! I’m going to do it.
He sent me a thumbs-up emoji.
Jamie: Cool. Don’t forget to mention me in your acceptance speech.
CHAPTER TWO
Jamie
-FOURTEEN MONTHS LATER-
At the start of the season, no one else noticed the friction between me and Rob. My crew chief was conservative. Like, Old Testament conservative. The giant stick up his ass only got worse as the races went by. He stayed quiet when I did well, but the last two had been a shitshow, and he was all out of patience with me at today’s practice.
As soon as I cut the engine, I yanked the earpiece out, happy to have Rob’s voice out of my head. While I undid my gloves, movement caught my attention.
For fuck’s sake.
Rob stormed toward the car, his face red. If I didn’t know him, I’d say he looked irate, but it turned out he always looked that way.
“What’s going on with you?” His tone was accusatory.
I did not want to talk to him right now. “Sorry. I slept like shit last
night.”
He frowned at my language. He legit scowled at the cussword like I’d uttered it while kneeling at church. Everyone else in the pit swore like they’d hit a hammer on their thumb, and Rob never batted an eye. Only when I cussed, did he get angry. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his puritanical ass.
Yeah, I’d had a slow, messy run, but it hadn’t been entirely my fault. “The front’s loose,” I said.
“Well, it was too tight yesterday.” He put his hands on his hips and stood too close to the window, blocking my exit.
It was hot inside the car, and even with the cooling system in my suit, I was melting. I grabbed the A-pillar and hoisted myself up out of the seat, not caring when I put a shoulder into Rob’s chest. He needed to back off.
“Figure it out and get your head on right,” he said, “or we’re not gonna win a single race this year.”
“Yeah, I got it.” I gritted my teeth. “Thanks for the motivational speech.”
Rob’s statement was loaded with meaning. It was my second year driving for Randall Whitman, and the way things were shaping up, it might be my last. Rob had been with the crew for six years, and no one else seemed to have issues with him.
Maybe he just had it out for me.
Team chemistry was everything in this sport. If I couldn’t make it work, no way was Whitman, the team owner, going to choose me over Rob.
I needed a top-five finish like I needed air to breathe.
I ignored my irritation with my crew chief and tried to focus on work. “Let’s dial it halfway between yesterday and today.”
Rob nodded and looked off into the distance. The conversation was over.
Yet he stayed rooted to the track. Shit. I braced for the incoming comment when he sighed loudly. “I can’t wait till they put a new one up.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about but glanced up at the billboard anyway.
The track we practiced on wasn’t far from the freeway, and we could see one of the signs looming over it. Two months ago, it’d been advertising some new Frankenstein creation from Taco Bell.
Mixtape: A Love Song Anthology Page 6
