Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Details
Windsong
About the Author
windsong
CAITLIN RICCI
At seventeen, Jamie was cursed to always have his inner thoughts exposed as a tattoo across his neck for all the world to see. He lost his home, his family, and his relationship with his best friend when the tattoo outed him.
More than a decade later, he's a successful porn star who loves his life and never once thought about returning to the horse farm he grew up on. But his boss wants to do a shoot with him where he grew up, and Jamie can't say no.
Windsong
By Caitlin Ricci
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Amanda Jean
Cover designed by Natasha Snow
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition April 2017
Copyright © 2017 by Caitlin Ricci
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781620049853
windsong
Kissing different guys was one of the best parts about being in porn. I loved kissing, and everyone did it a little differently. Sometimes fucking got to be redundant, especially if it was the sixth shoot I was doing in a weekend and I just didn't have it in me to be sexy and amazing anymore. But kissing was different; it told me so much about a guy's personality when I was being kissed by him. If he was rough and forceful with me, I knew what I would be in for. Soft and playful, and I'd probably get to top him.
I was happily vers, and I made more because of that since I could be cast in pretty much any movie that required a good-looking, athletic, thirty-something white guy. I was currently saving up to expand the tattoo on my back. Right now, it was just around my shoulders, but by the end of the summer I wanted something beautiful and intricate that wound down my spine and touched my ass. Some guys used their money for cars or huge televisions. I had a car and I was rarely home enough to watch TV. What I liked were my tattoos.
All except for one, that was. The one a fae had given me when I'd blown him off as a teenager after he'd asked me, quite simply, for directions to the nearest homeless shelter. And now I had to go through life with my secrets and inner thoughts spilled out over my skin. I was called a monster often enough from the things I thought about. It was a pain in the ass more than anything, to be exposed like that for all the world to see. The fae had wanted to let everyone else know how ugly I was on the inside, and he'd succeeded. Now just to work I had to slather globs of makeup over my neck to cover up that tattoo. I couldn’t wear it all the time, since it irritated my skin to wear it for more than the few hours it took to do a scene or two, but it was vital for me to be able to work.
The guy kissing me was so sweet I might have thought he was a virgin if I hadn't done a shoot with him the day before. There was something tentative and honest about him as if he were laying it all out there for me. It could have been an act, and sometimes it was, but people who could lie to me when they kissed were few and far between in my experience. It took real guts and commitment to do that, and very few people had that going for them.
Randy, the guy currently reaching his hand inside my shorts to grab my cock. I was hard. It was porn. I was supposed to be. He was too. It didn't mean much. But I acted like it did as I took the lead and started controlling the kiss. His hand tightened on my shaft as I held the back of his head to kiss him deeper and let him silently know that I was going to be taking over here. He didn't have to worry about looking good while he organized us into the right positions for the camera. He just had to act like he was enjoying being fucked by me. Randy, if that was his name, was a natural at that. He could plaster a smile on and not let it slip until two hours later when he was done. He'd told me his real name once, in passing, but I'd forgotten it. Most of us didn’t use our real names, or at least not our whole names. I still went by Randy, but that was because I didn't give a shit what anyone else thought. I didn't have some family at home waiting for me to come back that I wanted to give some privacy to like a lot of these guys did.
When Randy was ready for me to go into him—after I'd put on the lubed condom, of course—he grabbed my hip and pulled me closer. I liked that about him.
He was decent at fucking. Maybe he was better when there weren't cameras on him and he wasn't getting paid to do a scene with a veritable stranger. But he moaned when he was supposed to, and I came over his stomach when we were done. He smiled at me, played with my come for a little while as the cameras kept going, but as soon as we got the all-clear signal, he was off the bed and grabbing a bottle of water.
I went over to join him because I was thirsty too. He wasn't a bad guy and he certainly wasn't rude like a lot of the guys in the business could be, but I didn't exactly want to spend more time with him and he didn't seem that interested in me either. That was fine.
"Your neck says that you're tired. So, I guess it is true what they say about you. What you're feeling really does show up on your skin."
"It's true," I confirmed. "It's a curse. Makes me a beast." I shrugged and pretended, as I always did, that having my secrets exposed in such a manner wasn't the absolute worst thing that I could ever imagine happening to someone.
"Are you going to the holiday vacation next week?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I'm doing the Country Boys shoot in Montana."
He gave me a long look, from my head down to my still-naked thighs, before he met my gaze again. "I would have never guessed that you grew up as a farm boy." He'd said it with a smirk, like he thought I was joking.
I knew why he'd think that. I had over a dozen tattoos, and I'd pierced plenty of parts of me at one time or another. I'd kept some of the piercings and grown out of others. My nipples and my ears were still pierced, but it had been a long time since I'd had anything pierced below the waist.
"Yeah, that was a long time ago. My family has a horse farm there."
Tim nodded and sipped his water. Soon he found something more interesting than me or my past to focus on, and I moved on as well to get in the shower. I was done for the day, so I could have just gone home smelling like sex and sweat, but I preferred not to take my work home with me. I wasn't ashamed of it in the least. I loved my life and everything I was able to do and afford to have because of it. But I also smelled like I'd been with a dozen different guys since eight that morning, which I had since we'd done a lot of threesome and more scenes, and I was ready to get back to smelling like myself for a while. Showering in between the scenes helped some, but not nearly enough when I could still smell Paul's way-too-thick cologne on my arms from four hours before. He really had to tone it down on that shit.
I came out of the shower to pass by someone waiting to go in. I put on fresh clothes, my own that were just a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and I headed out the front door.
"See you next week, Jamie," the producer, Albert, called to me from the kitchen where he was talking with one of the other guys and eating some mini corn dogs. He loved his junk food, and I wanted some too, but he didn't have to look good naked on camera.
"Yep," I said to him. I gave him a wave as I left the studio—a converted warehouse—and headed to my Jeep. She was the best thing about being in porn. The tattoos and getting to have sex all the time with generally good-looking, and sometimes nice, people was definitely a bonus. But before I'd left the farm I would have never dreamed of being able to walk into a d
ealership, pick out a forty-thousand-dollar vehicle like this, and pay cash for her. Saving up that much money hadn't been easy, but it had been so worth it.
I had every bit of luxury possible and I could still go off-roading. It wasn't even below forty degrees out, but I still blasted the heated seats and sank blissfully into the leather with a sigh.
The one indulgence I allowed myself was Thai food, and I grabbed it on the way home. I was off work until I had to be in Montana to start shooting on Monday. That gave me four days off, but I had to subtract the one I'd spend driving there. Most of the guys were flying, and if I'd wanted to fly with them then my ticket would have been covered. But unlike them, I liked driving, and I wouldn't mind the little more than eight hours it would take me to get from Denver to Billings. My family's farm was only a short drive away from Billings in Joliet, but I had no reason to go back there. I hadn't been welcome anywhere near my family since I was eighteen.
I slipped out of my shirt and shoes as I got in the front door of my condo. It was just me, so I didn't mind the little bit of a mess I'd made. Some of the guys I worked with had boyfriends. Sometimes they even came to the shoots to make absolutely sure there was nothing going on beyond sex. Maybe they were afraid we were hanging out and falling in love with each other, which would have been bullshit. I was friendly with some of the guys and I could fake it with the others, but we certainly didn't all get together and drink beer and have BBQs on my patio or anything like that.
Going back to Montana shouldn't have filled me with anxiety like it did. And that unwelcome tightening in my gut was a completely new experience for me. I hadn't been anything but generally happy since I'd left Montana when I was eighteen, even with the complications that came with having my tattoo, and I really didn't want to go back. But the photo shoot was a great promo opportunity for me, and in my contract it said that I had to do at least two of photo ops each year, along with at least six events. It was almost the end of the year and I’d been slacking so far. I had to go back to Montana. I didn't have a choice about that, but there was no reason for me to go anywhere near Joliet, or my family's farm.
Yet, I did miss it. Windsong had been more than my home. It had been my place of peace and comfort for the first eighteen years of my life, and as hard as I'd tried, I'd never found another place that made me feel that content with myself. But thinking about my home at Windsong came with a whole shit-load of complications too, none of them I really had the energy, or the time, to deal with right then.
*~*~*
I was supposed to check in with Albert as soon as I got into Montana, but I decided to get some breakfast first. After a completely loaded omelet to warm my stomach, it was still a few hours before he expected any of us to show up at the house he'd rented.
I stood in the diner's parking lot looking out at the city I'd known for the first eighteen years of my life, and I tried not to feel a bit sick about being back in the state I'd once called home and swore I'd never move from. I wouldn't have either, if my fucked-up family hadn't gone and turned on me. I had been just a kid and they'd been like animals. Thinking about it now, even after more than ten years, still made me angry. It shouldn't have. I'd gone through therapy to come to grips with what my homophobic family had done. I'd made good progress too. But all of that work apparently didn't matter at all now that I was back here in the last place I ever wanted to be. No, I took that back: Montana was the second-to-last place I wanted to be. Windsong was the place I'd never go to again. I hated everyone there and my memories of it. Especially from the last few months I'd lived there.
Even as much as I hated Windsong and everything it represented to me, I knew it would always be my home. Despite the piercings, the tattoos, and my condo in the city, I was a country boy at heart, and that pull was impossible to ignore. That was why, ten minutes later, I was in Joliet and driving past the high wooden arch with 'Windsong' dangling from it. I'd helped hang that sign with my dad when I'd been thirteen.
I pulled my Jeep over to the side of the dirt road and rolled my window down so that I could look out over the pastures where the paint horses grazed. There were a dozen pastures, plus two barns, a round pen, and an arena. At full capacity, Windsong could be home to nearly a hundred horses. I'd never seen it that full though, and now I did a quick count and saw that there were probably only thirty or so horses there. It was still plenty, especially with half of those being new foals who huddled tightly against their mother's sides.
I wondered who my father had as his stallion now. It wouldn't have been a horse I'd known growing up since that had been too long ago, but maybe it was a descendant of one of the horses I'd ridden and loved as a child. I could barely remember them now after so many years of blocking out those memories, but sitting there in my Jeep and seeing them all in the pastures, it was starting to come back to me. How free I'd felt galloping around bareback with only a pair of lead ropes attached to the horse's halter as my reins with my best friend Tom right there beside me. We were fearless and free back then, back before everything had changed for us.
Before anyone could notice me, and come out to kick me off the property, I started up the Jeep again and headed back to the hotel to meet up with Albert and let him know that I'd made it safely to Montana. I checked my neck in the mirror. My tattoo called me a coward.
*~*~*
I got to the hotel, planning to have to search for Albert to let him know I'd made it up to Montana just fine on my own, but I found him after only about a minute. He was talking to some cute blond guy by the bar, and Albert's cheeks were tinted pink so I knew he'd been drinking a bit already. I wasn't surprised, and I didn't really care either. He was an adult; he could do what he wanted in his own time. As long as his drinking didn't mess up my career, it wasn't a problem for me.
"Hey," I said, coming over and dropping my bag down at the base of his stool. I was interrupting him talking to the blond guy.
He clapped me on my back and kissed me on my cheek. It was a sure sign that he was a lot more drunk than I'd originally anticipated. I laughed it off, but I didn't push him away.
Albert introduced me to the guy he was talking to. "Brady, this is Jamie. Brady is interested in doing a few scenes while we're all in town this weekend."
I looked the guy over. He was cute and had a look I was sure the guys would love. It was easy for me to see why Albert had probably come up to this guy first and talked him into trying things out. Brady was probably a little taller than my own six feet, but not by much. He was thinner than me, which wasn't a bad thing. A lot of guys liked a skinny guy over a muscular one like me. And from what I could see of him, he didn't have any tattoos. He was a perfectly nice-looking guy for a boy-next-door type of role. I knew in an instant that I'd like to be in a scene with him. He looked like he'd be fun to work with sometime soon.
"What do you like?" I asked him.
Brady gave me a sultry little smile that hinted at plenty that we could do together once the cameras were on us. "Anything, as long as I'm on top."
That surprised me, because he didn't look like a stereotypical top like a lot of the guys I worked with did, but that was fine by me. "Sure thing. Albert, whenever you want to set it up, I'm game."
Albert laughed and kissed me on my cheek again. I didn't react.
"I'm going to go up to my room," I told him as I started to back away. "Nice meeting you," I told Brady.
"You too." He smiled at me again, and then he was back to paying more attention to Albert than to me.
I went up to my room and smiled at the sounds of people having sex in the room beside mine. It was two guys, I knew, because of the low moans I could clearly hear coming through the thin walls. Whatever worked for them was cool, but that wasn't my style at all.
I hadn't had sex without the cameras being on me in years. I didn't see a point in it. Sure, porn was just naked, sweaty acting, but I still got off and I still had a lot of fun while I was doing it. Usually, at least. Why have sex with someone whe
n I wasn't getting paid for it? Maybe that made me like a whore, but at least my career paid me very well.
Maybe things would have been different if I weren't as popular as I was. Maybe then I would have been more likely to take guys up on their blatant offers, even the ones who also worked with Albert. Some guys liked to try each other out before the cameras were on them so that they could get out any rough patches and awkwardness and make the scene look good right from the start.
But I wasn't like that. I had been when I'd first started though. Back when I'd thought I had to get on my knees and suck some guy's cock just to get him to notice me in this business. But that wasn't the case now. After years of doing this, I knew that if I wanted to try something new, or if I wanted to do more scenes, or if I saw a guy at the company that I wanted to be with, then all I had to do was shoot a text over to Albert and he'd made it happen. I'd been spanked, tied up, double teamed, and fisted all because I'd wanted to try new things out—and I'd gotten to do them all on camera and been paid ridiculous amounts for getting to explore my fantasies. I wasn't sure why more people didn't get into this career. I hadn't seen a downside to it yet.
Albert came to my door about half an hour later. I'd changed, and showered, and was watching TV. There was some cop show on. I'd forgotten how boring local TV was in Montana.
"Hey," I said, letting him in.
"So… I was thinking," he started. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like this new idea of his one bit. "Didn't you grow up near here?" Yep, I already hated it. I didn't like talking about my family, and that definitely included where I'd grown up.
At least he'd brought me a six pack. Maybe as a peace offering for whatever he was going to ask me that I was going to hate. I took one of the beers, and we sat down at the little table against the window. "Yeah. About twenty minutes away."
"Cows or horses?" Apparently, we were jumping right in.
I sipped my beer. "Horses. Paints."
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