Porn Star

by Lola Cherry

  “Gladly.” He’s up and standing before I can even process his response and his arms steady me as I stagger against the concrete. We run back into the house like horny teenagers, exchanging glances and giggling as we push our way through the warm bodies. He barely stops to say goodbye before we’re out the front door, running down the street to his truck. He almost drags me to the passenger side, tugging open the door and pressing his hand against my ass as he lifts me inside. I’m breathless, from laughing and lusting. I watch with amusement as he has to adjust himself inside his jeans, a grimace pulling at his facial muscles.

  “We’re not going to make it back to Stanford,” he warns, pushing his key into the ignition and twisting it. The engine starts up with a roar. “Just so you know.”

  Excitement pools in the bottom of my stomach, and I turn in my seat, putting my hand out to rub against his biceps. My eyes move from his face to his groin as I watch his response.

  It takes us less than ten minutes to drive to Fort Point. The aching between my thighs makes the minutes feel like hours, and I urge him to drive faster, watching his hands grip the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. The parking lot is empty, and Carter swings into a bay near the end of the strip, shifting the stick into park with one hand, and releasing his belt with the other.

  I clamber on top of him, my knees either side of his hips as my dress rides up. We’re kissing the hell out of each other, his hands stroking the sides of my body, making me ache for more. He pushes the top of my dress down and puts his lips on my breasts, while I grind against him, the wetness of my panties making the movement seem easy and light.

  “I’m clean,” he whispers in my chest, as his hand dips inside his jean pocket. “I get tested every four weeks, and I’ve never had a problem.”

  I ignore the reason why he gets tested, instead tugging at his zipper and releasing his glorious cock into my hand, his girth widening at my touch.

  “I was clean at my last medical.” I pull his head up from my breasts and kiss him again. “And I always use condoms.”

  Speaking of which, I grab the foil package from his hands and rip it, pushing myself up on my knees to give me enough room to roll it down his engorged cock. I don’t even take the time to pull my panties off; instead I tug them to one side and position myself over him. My eyes nearly burst out of their sockets when I feel him stretching me. The pain and pleasure mingle until I feel crazy with desire.

  “Fuuuckk.” He bends his head, burying his face in my hair. “That is so fucking good.”

  “I know.” I rise up again, swallowing hard to suppress my moan, trying to get control of the sensation.

  He leans down and presses a lever, and the car seat moves backward, giving me more room to move against him. I lean back, my hips grinding as they move up and down his cock. My hands brace against his shoulders, and he moves his own around to cup my ass, lifting me up and down on him, both of us panting as we start to peak.

  The rhythm has removed any rational thought from my brain. Every stroke of my clit against him squeezes a strangled cry from my throat. All I can think is I’m going to come so hard the car is going to rock. My toes curl and my thighs tense, and I push down on him a final time, my body shaking as the tremors wrack through me. I scream out his name before tipping my head back and gasping for air.

  His hips start to buck under me, and he holds me tighter, pushing himself inside me until he suddenly stills. He’s so wide I can feel every pulse inside my pussy as he fills the condom, his head buried in my shoulder as he moans, “Princess,” against my skin. And it seems to last forever, this sensation, this peaking, and when his eyes catch mine I feel like I’m drowning all over again.

  Our mouths linger together, softly, gently, and I can feel something inside me want to break. Because the way he kisses me tears me apart, making me want to laugh and cry at the same time. He pulls me back, wrapping my jacket around my shoulders as he holds me tightly against his bare chest. And when looks at me, and grins widely, his eyes sparkling, I find I couldn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. He’s all I want, and everybody else can go to hell.

  Chapter 6

  The weeks pass in a blur of school work, punctuated by the occasional date, whenever Carter is working in San Francisco. I haven’t introduced him to any of my friends, and he hasn’t invited me to any more parties. I wonder if we’re ever going to move things on from being only about sex.

  One evening we’re lying on my bed, both sweaty and panting after an hour and a half’s worth of intense fucking, and I turn and ask him how many women he’s slept with.

  I immediately want to kick myself when his eyebrows dip, and he looks at me with confusion. Whatever answer he gives, I know I’m not going to like it, so I quickly open my mouth and rephrase.

  “Okay, how many women have you made love to?”

  His expression softens, making me want to pounce on him all over again. His voice is deep and gravelly as he answers my question.

  “One.”

  I don’t know why his answer makes me want to fist-pump, but I find my fingers curling, and I have to sit on my hand to stop myself from doing it. Sometimes I’m so lame I embarrass myself.

  Later that week, we discuss my thesis. He surprises me with his insights, eventually admitting his high school GPA was 4.0.

  “Seriously?”

  He looks a little fed up. “Yeah. Did you think I was stupid?”

  I lick my dry lips. “I never really thought about it.” I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because the idea of somebody as sexual, as potent, as Carter going to high school seems so wrong. “So why didn’t you go to college?”

  “I did.”

  My brows about shoot through the roof. “No way.”

  He shrugs. “I went for a year.”

  “So why did you quit?”

  He rolls over and flings an arm across the pillow, his forehead creasing as he considers my question. Eventually, he capitulates and gives me an answer.

  “I was at a frat party, and a guy came over and bet me a hundred dollars I wouldn’t screw this girl in front of everybody. I was a kid and didn’t know any better, and she was begging me to do her on the couch. So eventually I did it, and after making her come a couple of times, the guy gave me a hundred dollar bill and his card, and told me to give him a call.”

  “He was an agent?” I ask, my fingers running up and down his chest.

  “Nah, I don’t really have an agent. He was a director, and he was casting for a scene. I decided to give it a go, figuring it was easy money. Before I knew it, I was in such demand I had to up and quit school.”

  “How old were you?” My hand lingers on his stomach. I trace the lines running down from his hips.

  “Nineteen. I’ve been in the business for seven years.”

  I find myself thinking about all the things he must have done during those years and once again the green monster growls angrily inside me. I try to ignore it and drag my lips down his torso, past his hips and to the soft, smooth skin of his thigh. I trace each word of his tattoo with the tip of my tongue, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and the heat of my own desire.

  “Why did you get this?” My words are muffled by his body. He still hears, though.

  “It was a big fuck you to everybody.” He runs his hands through my hair as I kiss my way toward his cock. “They don’t know me. Nobody does … ahh … fuck.” His words disappear as I wrap my lips around him. And I don’t tell him that I know him. But I think I’m beginning to.

  A lot of my classmates vacation for Spring Break, but all I want to do is go home and sleep for a few days. I find myself, once again, on the Pacific Coast highway, my soft top down as the warm March wind floats across from the ocean. When I get to our house, I see Carter’s truck parked in his driveway, and it’s all I can do to stop from running to his bungalow and throwing myself at his feet.

  Instead, I walk up to my own house, smiling as Mom pulls the door open and emits her trademark
squeal. She pulls me against her then scrutinizes me as usual. I’ve actually remembered to have a haircut before driving down, so she finds little to criticize, although her eyes narrow when she sees my nails.

  “Don’s still at work,” she tells me as we walk into the hall. “And you’ll be pleased to hear Dirk Diggler next door has calmed down a bit. We haven’t had any more noisy parties.”

  I can’t tell her why the news has made me grin so widely. She must think I’m happy they aren’t being disturbed. My body warms at the thought of my secret, and more than ever I want to see Carter. There’s still a part of me that’s uneasy, though. Because although we’ve been spending some time together, neither of us has spoken about what is growing between us.

  I don’t know how to classify what we are. He seems more than a hook up to me. Maybe less than a boyfriend. All I know is that I’m becoming emotionally attached and it scares me to death. Because I like him too much for my own good.

  “What are the plans for tonight?” I ask as we sit down in the living room. Mom hasn’t offered to make me a coffee, and I don’t ask, having bought one at the last stop before I entered LA. I like to think I’m learning from past mistakes.

  “Bebe’s bringing her boyfriend over,” Mom confides, her eyes sparkling. “His father is an executive at MGM.”

  I bite on my lip to stop from making a clever remark.

  “He has a younger brother. Bebe’s bringing him to meet you.” Mom’s words remind me how much of a secret Carter is in my life, and I can’t even bring myself to tell her I’m taken.

  Am I taken?

  A part of me is green with envy. Not only has Bebe found someone eminently suitable, but it’s so easy for her to bring him home to meet the family. I try to picture Carter sitting at our dining table, and fail miserably.

  Before dinner, I find myself texting him, to let him know I’m home. There’s no response, and I glance out of the window next to the door, checking if his truck is parked in the driveway. When I see it’s empty, my stomach clenches in dismay, and I start to think about all the things he could be doing.

  With other women.

  My eyes water, and only when I see an unknown car pull up in our drive do I pull myself together, and walk into the bathroom to check my makeup is still okay.

  I haven’t made much effort for tonight’s dinner. My skinny jeans and silver top seem domestic next to Bebe’s wildly sexy red dress. She introduces me first to her boyfriend, Martin, and to his younger brother, Joseph, who at twenty-three is a few years older than me.

  The evening passes slowly, and I try not to look bored as Don grills Martin and Joseph about their father’s work, and asks them about their own jobs. Martin is already working with his father—which no doubt lands him Don’s seal of approval.

  Joseph is at law school, making him even more of a catch in my mother’s eyes. Her feverish excitement makes me want to slap her.

  I try to dodge any talk of myself, beyond explaining what my thesis is about, and that I’m applying for master’s programs in order to start my career in academic research. Things have started to crystallize in my mind, and I haven’t told either Mom or Don I plan to concentrate on the psychology of online pornography, knowing this will engender an argument I can’t be bothered to have with them.

  Yet.

  When the evening is over, Bebe and I walk the boys out to their car. Joseph and I stand awkwardly next to each other as Martin and Bebe suck each other’s face. I try not to roll my eyes at their public display of affection.

  “Would you, ah, want to go out for dinner sometime?” Joseph’s question blindsides me. I stare at him in surprise as I try to think of a suitable response.

  “Oh, goodness, how wonderful, we can double date!” Bebe’s excited voice nullifies my need to answer. I feel slightly resentful that none of them wait for my opinion before they start to discuss suitable places to eat. They agree to meet up on Wednesday. Throughout the entire conversation I keep glancing over at Carter’s bungalow, noting his truck is back in the driveway, and wondering why the hell he hasn’t texted me back.

  The boys climb into their Porsche and drive away. Bebe grabs my hand and actually squeaks as she pulls me back into the house, breathlessly telling Mom about the double date. They make plans for us to spend Wednesday at the spa, so we are fully ready to be seen out in public.

  I suppress my need to scream. Instead I start inventing my excuse to avoid the date, because there’s no way I’m going to spend an evening with the bland brothers, batting my eyelashes at them and hanging on their every word.

  Before I climb into bed, I check my cell a final time to see if Carter has replied to my text. The only messages I can see are from Domino’s Pizza, and I want to fling my phone against the wall in frustration, angry he finds me so easy to ignore.

  Because all I can think of is him.

  Chapter 7

  He calls me back just before midnight. I can tell he’s tired from the way his voice is thick and crackly, and almost too deep for me to hear.

  “I was in meetings all day. I wasn’t ignoring you, Princess.”

  The relief that flashes through me is quickly replaced by suspicion. “What kind of meetings?” Were they naked ones? I hate the way I feel so suburban whenever we talk about his work.

  He doesn’t laugh at my enquiry. “Nothing important. Just a couple of business leads. Are you coming over?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  I wait until everybody is asleep to sneak out. I’m happy to find Don hasn’t bothered to change the alarm code since Christmas, and I tap it into the keypad, opening the front door, before padding down the driveway in my pajamas. I make sure none of the neighbors are watching as I run up to Carter’s bungalow, banging on the wooden door a couple of times to let him know I’m there.

  The relief I feel when he pulls open the door is massive.

  Carter stares at me for a moment, his eyes glancing down at my bare thighs, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips before he pulls the door wide open and stands back to let me in. His welcome is very subdued, and I can’t help but worry my lip with my teeth as I watch his expressionless face, and question why the hell he doesn’t seem very pleased to see me.

  The food I ate at dinner turns to lead in my stomach as my anxiety increases, and I wonder if he’s already bored of me.

  Maybe I’ve done something to turn him off.

  Before I can finish this thought, he pushes me hard against the wall, and his mouth comes crashing down on mine, my head banging into the plastered brick as I try to order my mind. I can’t understand his sudden volte-face. All I can do is submit to his kisses.

  He gathers my wrists in his hands, pulling them over my head. His face moves down my neck, teeth scraping sensitive skin while he mutters unintelligible words against my flesh. He doesn’t look at me, or speak to me, ripping my tank away from my chest, and throwing the scrap of fabric on the floor. His teeth bite on my nipples as he starts to grind himself against me, and I’m so breathless I can’t even ask him what’s going on. I cradle his head in my hands, my fingers twisting in his dark hair as I submit to him, not caring how he wants to take me, as long as he does.

  His mouth continues to plunder, as his free hand pushes down my shorts. The fabric pools at my feet before I step out of them, and I’m naked in front of his fully clothed body. I want to tug at his zipper, but his hand is still holding me still. I watch as he removes his own jeans, then he releases me for a moment and rips his t-shirt off over his head.

  I’m so captivated that even when he lets go of my wrists, I leave them above my head. Once he is naked, he grasps for them again. I can feel his hard cock nudge my thigh when he bends his head and continues to assault my tits.

  The tops of my thighs are moist with need, and when he lifts his head up and kisses me once more, I moan into his mouth, my body pushing against his to try and tell him what I want.

  He reads me like a book, and rel
eases my hands, dropping to his knees and wrenching my legs apart, burying his face in my pussy, his tongue lapping against my clit. There’s no gentleness, or playing around. He’s going in for the kill, and I’m his willing victim, giving myself up in return for an ounce of pleasure. My loud moans tell him I’m all too happy to let him dominate me.

  My knees start to buckle, and he puts one hand on my behind to support me, the other moving between my thighs. His fingers tease at my entrance until I beg him to push them inside me. His mouth sucks in my clit, and as he continues to lash at it with his tongue, the noises coming from my throat sound like something feral.

  A drag of his fingers and I’m done. I convulse against him rapidly, my orgasm making my entire body shake.

  “You’re mine,” he growls. I meet his gaze and watch as his eyes darken. He lowers his head and starts to lick again.

  “Yours.” The pleasure builds a second time, until my toes are curling so hard I’m afraid they’re going to get cramped.

  “Don’t you ever fuck anybody else.” His breath is short, and I have to listen closely to understand what he’s saying. I move my hands down and thread my fingers through his hair. He’s eating me like I’m the Last Supper. Like he can’t get enough.

  “I don’t want to fuck anyone else.” My words come out as a gasp. My head falls back onto the cool plaster. Every part of my body is hypersensitive, and as he sucks harder, I find myself bucking to meet each thrust of his fingers, the need to orgasm overriding every other thought in my fevered mind.

  He lets out a strangled groan and pushes them inside me one last time. I cling to his head while I soar, pulsing around him, and he stands up and grinds his mouth against mine, our teeth clashing as he kisses me hard. Eventually, he moves back, his expression turning to one of concern as he stares at my lips and opens his mouth to speak.

  “Are you okay?” His hand reaches out to brush the hair away from my face.

  I take a deep breath and nod.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” His lips turn down with regret, and I reach out to stroke his cheek.