by Heather Lin
He laid Monroe down and straddled her hips, tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging, coaxing her into exposing the smooth flesh of her throat. He licked and nipped the sensitive skin incessantly, feeding off the short gasps escaping her lungs, the way her nails raked his back through his shirt, the unconscious grind of her warm, jean-clad mound against his thigh. He brought a hand down to rub her through the fabric, to ease some of her suffering, reveling in the way she moved against him.
He peeled off his shirt and undid the top button of hers, but she surprised him by grasping his wrists and flipping him onto his back before he could gain full access to her sultry body. She stripped off her pants and underwear, then traveled down the length of his body to tug off his shoes and socks.
Soon, he was naked, and she remained in the button-down flannel shirt, which he had to admit was sexy in itself. She sat on top of him, pressing the warm, wet vee of her thighs against his throbbing erection, sliding methodically up and down its length, driving him wild without giving him exactly what he wanted.
“Shit…Monroe…,” he moaned, grasping her bare hips in his hands and quickening the pace.
He could feel the nub of her clit rocking against the head of his penis, and her closed eyes and parted lips told him she was deriving her own pleasure from the act. She reached up and felt her breasts through the shirt, one hand hidden by a fingerless leather glove, gently kneading the mounds of flesh, her index fingers teasing her nipples. The sight was erotic. He was mesmerized, even as he knew it would be too much to handle.
But he hadn’t come here for another almost. He wanted to be wrapped inside her, feel her tight muscles clamp down and milk him dry. So he lifted her up, rested the apex of his erection at her entrance, and let her take it from there. Her eyes remained closed. She was lost in the moment. Every infinitesimal change in her expression spoke volumes of the ecstasy she felt as she took him in, centimeter by blissful centimeter. When he came to rest fully inside her, she released a long, guttural moan that shook him to the core and almost made him lose it right there.
He went for the bottom of her shirt, wanting to slip his hands in so he could touch her breasts as she began riding him in a slow, circular rhythm. But she grasped his hands again, threading their fingers together and holding on tight, her fingers pulsing with each deliberate thrust.
“Alton,” she whispered.
He couldn’t be sure she even knew she’d said it, but hearing his name on her lips, in the throes of passion, was another devastating blow to his endurance. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and tried to fight the ecstatic pressure threatening to explode.
He felt a hand on his cheek, and he opened his eyes. Monroe’s gaze was glazed with pleasure and a small smile rested on her lips. She was ready to go over the edge with him. He rolled them again, putting himself back on top and lifting her leg for maximum contact. Then he thrust, long and hard, eliciting delicate sounds of pleasure from Monroe’s sweet lips.
Her eyes were closed, her breath was heavy, and as her hips rose to ride the wave of his creation, her body tensed, her back arched, and he released himself deep inside of her welcoming warmth. She moved against him for another moment, riding the aftershocks of her orgasm and, he suspected, teasing him. When they were spent, he kissed her and collapsed beside her.
Monroe rummaged in a bedside drawer for tissues and handed him one as she cleaned her thighs and replaced her underwear. Then she lay back down next to him. He put on his boxer briefs and stroked her arm through the fabric of her shirt, her head resting on his shoulder.
He wanted a cigarette, but not enough to leave her side just yet. They lay in silence for several minutes, relaxing in the afterglow. Then Monroe sat up and looked at him.
“Want some dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Spaghetti okay?”
“Perfect.”
He ran a hand through his hair and propped himself up on his elbows to watch her. She didn’t cover herself further, and the way the firm curve of her ass peeked out beneath the fabric of her panties had him wanting her all over again. Her hair was a mess, and he took a certain pride in knowing he was the cause. He still had yet to see what was beneath her shirt, but that was how it would be with her. There would always be something more for him to see, something more he wanted.
He sighed and fell back on the pillow. Sleeping with her was supposed to satisfy his craving, but the plan had backfired. A part of him had always known it would. Sophie was far from his mind. There was only Monroe.
She turned slightly to look at him as she put water on to boil. Her body was relaxed, but her expression held a certain tension he was sure mirrored his own. He knew why he felt that way—the risks, the public, the unexpected emotion. But why did she? What was at stake for her?
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” She reached into a cabinet and pulled down a jar of sauce and a box of noodles.
“Do you want me to go?”
“No,” she answered quickly, turning back to him. She toyed with the box’s cardboard flap as she seemed to mull over her own thoughts, deciding if she should and how she would put them into words. In the end, she just shrugged and dumped the noodles in the pot. “No, not really.”
Alton sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his jeans, then walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck.
“I’m going for a smoke.”
“Okay. Stay away from the hay.”
He nodded and left the cozy studio apartment. He was still shirtless, but he wouldn’t be gone long and he figured no one had any business being at the barn this late in the evening. The property was fenced and gated. He couldn’t ask to be in a more secure location. So he leaned against the doorframe of the barn’s back entrance and smoked an after-sex cigarette.
He was gone maybe five minutes. When he came back, Monroe was plating the pasta. Some true crime show played in the background.
“Is this okay?” she asked, gesturing to the TV.
“Sure. I don’t think I’m in danger of hearing any gossip about her on this station. And if I do, it might be the kind that cheers me up.” He gave her a wry smile, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
“So she’s been downgraded to her?”
Alton shrugged and sat in one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. “I’m coping.”
“Yes, you are.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, alluding to their recent encounter, and turned to fill two glasses with tap water. She set them on the table and then joined him with the food and forks.
“So what did your publicist say about the picture?” Monroe asked as they ate.
Alton shrugged.
“Don’t you have a publicist?”
“I do. I haven’t talked to him. I haven’t talked to anyone, really, except Madison.”
He glanced at her as he swallowed a bite of pasta, just in time to catch a fleeting grimace at the mention of his friend’s name. There were pieces to put together here, and he wracked his brain to find them all. The pictures, his tirade, her moodiness, Madison’s phone call…Madison’s phone call.
Of course she would have made Monroe fully aware of her disapproval.
“Did Madison say anything to you?” he asked.
Monroe’s eyes flitted to his. “No, of course not.”
His eyes narrowed as he tried to read her. “I’ll be right back.”
“What? Why? Where are you going?”
“I just have to make a quick call.”
“Don’t,” Monroe pleaded, completely unraveling her lie. “I understand where she’s coming from. And she’s right. This shouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t happen again.”
Alton was already at the door. “Bullshit. She doesn’t have a right to interfere. And she doesn’t have a right to use her position to control you.”
“I don’t see it that way. You’re a guest and her friend. I crossed a line.”
“You didn’t feel that way this morning.”
“I was mad. In the heat of the moment.”
“And drunk.”
“And drunk. And I’m sorry. I know the picture isn’t your fault. I should have known better than to go out in public if I didn’t want my actions public. It’s not fair, but it’s the life I live. I can’t expect you to understand why I can’t let loose like that. I have to know I can’t let loose like that.”
“I’m starting to understand.”
Alton approached her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her sweetly on the lips. “I won’t get you in trouble. I just need to have a proper conversation with her. I haven’t done that in too long.”
Monroe seemed skeptical, but she shrugged and let him go.
*
Monroe pressed her ear against the door. Alton didn’t go as far as he had when he’d left to smoke, and even though the walls were thick, she could make out most of what he was saying.
“Hey, Madison…Yeah, sorry about earlier…Thanks…I wanted to talk to you about something…No, I’m fine…I know I sounded like an ass…No…No, seriously, I couldn’t care less about Sophie…Monroe…Yes, I’m serious…It was more than that…I know you told Ms. Hutter…No, she didn’t tell me and she didn’t tell me to call you about it…”
Monroe rolled her eyes from her place against the door. That was exactly what she’d been afraid of. Mrs. Avery would think she couldn’t even take criticism professionally.
“…Because it’s fucking obvious, Mads!...Sorry, sorry, I’m just…Yes, it’s that simple….I know it looks that way, but it’s not…She’s special…I know things will change when I’m back in L.A.…We’re not even thinking that far ahead…Look, Madison, all I’m asking is that you give the girl a fucking break so we can explore this…Thank you.”
Monroe jumped away from the door and landed back in her seat, making sure to keep her eyes on the TV as if she’d been watching the whole time. She gave Alton a casual glance when he came back inside.
“She’ll get off your back,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
She continued eating her spaghetti, and he joined her. As was always the risk with eavesdropping, now she knew the truth. He thought she was special. He thought this debacle of a casual romance had potential. She had to decide how she felt.
She wanted to believe this could keep going, but she’d never even tried opening herself fully to a man. It was new and terrifying territory. Unconsciously, she held her shirt closer to her chest. She had secrets she’d never revealed, desires she’d never explored. There was so much she liked about Alton but so much she just wasn’t ready for.
She stood to put the plates in the sink. They were both spent, but Alton moved his chair closer as they sipped their water, so he could touch her back, stroke her arm, toy with her hair. She closed her eyes. This was bliss. They were comfortable with one another, at peace, with the TV droning in the background. Monroe could fall asleep right now, even though it was barely 8:00. She felt Alton’s lips close to her ear.
“Why don’t I stay over?”
She pulled back and looked into his deep brown eyes. They were clear, less brooding than when they’d first met. Maybe it was the sex or maybe she just made him happy. She knew what she wanted, but she wasn’t sure it was in her best interest to give in completely. At least she could give into this.
“Okay,” she agreed.
He kissed her neck sweetly, the barely-there prickle of his freshly-shaven face tantalizing her flesh. He smelled so good—clean and spicy, intoxicating. She sighed, and his lips moved to her lips. He turned off the TV. She turned off the lights, and they climbed into her bed again. This time, he just held her, one arm wrapped around her waist as he breathed in the scent of her hair. It felt good.
“Do you wear that thing to bed?” he asked, referring to her glove.
“Not usually.”
“Why don’t you take it off?”
“Why don’t you shut up and go to sleep?” She traced circles lovingly on his arm as she spoke, taking any menace out of her words.
Soon, his breath evened out, and Monroe could finally let herself drift off.
X
The nightmare came, same as always. Monroe heard the screams and felt the terror, but, once again, Alton entered her room instead of her father. This time, there was no sexual encounter—her conscious and subconscious desires had been placated for the time being—but he kissed her and told her everything would be alright.
When she finally opened her eyes, it was 5:00am. Nine hours was the longest she’d slept without the help of sedatives in ten years. Alton’s arm was still slung across her body. He snored softly. She snuggled into him and closed her eyes, fully awake but enjoying this time to relax before she had to see to the horses.
Maybe she was over thinking this. He liked her, she liked him. He was the only one who had ever been able to chase the nightmares away. She should give them a shot. A real shot. She should open up to him. Why not?
She hadn’t realized he’d stopped snoring until his hand was unbuttoning the top of her shirt. That was why. She had to remember. Panic coursed through her veins, and she pushed his hand away as she sat up.
“What?” Alton’s voice was groggy, but he was alert enough to be offended by her rejection.
“Nothing. I have to take care of the horses.”
“Do they eat at a different time each day? Because you fed them at six yesterday.”
Monroe’s cheeks flamed. She’d let her guard down, let him stay the night. Her past was too heavy; she had too much baggage to ever put on another person. Her present and future could never be storybook because she would never look like a princess.
It wasn’t vanity that held her back—it was reality. She didn’t mind her scars. Scars were stories. They were a part of her. But hearing about what her father had done and seeing what he’d done were two very different things for the people she loved in her life.
Alton hadn’t even heard it yet. That was step one. And she could barely even get there.
“I just don’t want to this morning. Yesterday was great. I’d like to do it again. Just not now.”
He studied her, eyes narrowed, trying to see past her guarded exterior. “Every time I try to undress you, you find a way around it. Why? Why can’t I see you?”
He’d unraveled her poorly-disguised plan. She hadn’t anticipated being in this position more than once. Otherwise she may have figured out a better method of diverting his attention. Her cheeks burned hotter. She had to choose between honesty and deceit. In the end, she went with a little of both.
“I just don’t like the way I look.”
He seemed surprised. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “I just…didn’t think you were the type to be insecure about your looks.”
Monroe pursed her lips. She had been the one to downplay the issue, so she couldn’t blame Alton for thinking of her as typical, as unconfident, for assuming she was worried about belly fat and cellulite. She couldn’t blame him, but it still hurt.
“Sorry to disappoint.” She turned away, keeping her voice cool as she rummaged in a drawer for a change of clothes.
She locked herself in the bathroom and turned on the shower, washing away their mingled sweat and soothing her aching muscles. Then she looked down at her body, down at the poorly-patched scars on her chest and stomach. The plastic surgeon had done all he could, but they were still glaringly obvious, the color of her flesh but tattered at the edges. Small but prolific.
Her father had tried to ensure her death. He’d failed. It was a good thing, even if she hadn’t believed it for the first year or so following the incident. She was a survivor. She was brave. Her story could be m
ade into a fucking Lifetime movie.
But at the end of the day he’d still succeeded in stealing bits and pieces of her life. Her parents, her looks, any hope of a future involving 2.5 biological kids and a white picket fence. She turned off the spray and vigorously dried herself, trying to vent some of her frustration. By the time she’d dressed, glove on, Alton was gone. The small apartment seemed larger somehow, empty. He’d only stayed one night. How could she already miss him?
She frowned, unwilling to feel the sentiment for very long. He’d made his opinion of her crystal clear, which meant he sure as hell wasn’t missing her right now. She downed a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, then grabbed a bottle of water and headed downstairs. Work always kept her mind off her troubles. She turned on the lights and fed the horses. Then she led them out to pasture and mucked out their stalls.
There was no sign of Alton. There was no sign of anyone. She felt lonely. She hadn’t felt that way a few days ago, under the same circumstances. How could someone come into her life for such a short amount of time and turn it so upside down? She didn’t understand. She didn’t want to understand.
Monroe didn’t pause until 1:00 when she finally had to go upstairs for lunch and more water. She kept the TV off but flipped through her phone. She had a text from Shannon: OMG, did you see TMZ?
Her heart skipped a beat. She already knew a question like that meant bad news. What the hell had happened now? No, she answered.
It took her friend less than a minute to send the link. The picture was from the previous day, but the information was new.
The headline read New mama, new drama!
Monroe scrolled down and read the short article, anger rising in her veins with every word.
Alton’s country romance is every bit as intense as it is accelerated. Sources say his mystery rebound girl was not happy when Alton tried to go for a night on the town with another woman. The sexy British actor even alluded to an earlier disagreement, but the tête-à-tête seemed to end on a happy note when the movie star decided to stay in after all with this lucky lady.
