by Penny Wylder
"There wasn't time. I'm sorry."
"Jesus." He shakes his head. "I can't believe this. And believe me, we're going to talk about the fact that you're sleeping with her."
I sigh. "No, Michael, we're not."
He raises his eyebrows. "I told you that this isn't a good look. That you can't do this."
"We're not going to talk about it because this isn't what you think it is. You don't know the whole story. You don't need the complete history, but you can know enough." I give him the short version of our history, and the fact that this isn't either of us sleeping with the other one because we're lusting after one another or we don't have enough will power.
Michael scrubs a hand across his face. "This is a lot of fucking information."
"I know."
"You could have told me more than that you just to know each other. I'm not a complete dick. If you'd told me that she was the love of your life, I wouldn't have been such an asshole about you not going after her. So you guys are together?"
I nod. "Yeah. We thought that it might be good to wait until after the show has some good critical acclaim, and then come out as a couple together. Cute interview, story about our past and how we reconnected. We wanted to make sure it didn't get broken by the tabloids. Or like this."
"Yeah," Michael says, "I'll take care of that fucker. He won't be able to touch you when I'm done with him."
"That's what I was hoping to hear," I say, "but there's one more thing we need to talk about."
He's already on his phone, typing away, but I cover it with my hand, and he looks up at me. "Fantasia."
"What about it?"
"You don't remember?"
He shakes his head. "I don't. I remember getting there, and I remember getting home. I don't even know what was in the drinks that they served me that would have gotten me that wasted. Please tell me I didn't do something monumentally stupid."
I sigh. "You did, but it was just in front of Amber and me." I tell him.
"Ah, Jesus," he says. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure that I apologize to Amber. This is why I don't drink normally. I get fucked up and the side that has no social manners comes out."
"You have social manners at all?"
He narrows his eyes, but he's trying to keep a smile off his face. "I'm about to save your ass, watch what you say."
"Thanks, Michael. I like knowing that you've got my back."
"I do," he says, clapping me on the shoulder. "And I'll have Amber's too."
I nod. "Speaking of, I've got to go. She's obviously pretty freaked out by all of this."
"It'll all be in motion by tomorrow," he says, heading to his car, head ducked down to his phone again.
For once, I did the right thing. I fixed it. I didn't do something that ruined someone's life, or career, I made it better. Hopping in my car, I speed back to the restaurant. Amber is still in the corner booth, and I can see that she had a second piece of pie, and she looks way more at ease. She smiles when she sees me. "What happened?"
"It's done," I say.
"But what?"
I pull her to her feet. "Let's go home," I say, "and I'll tell you everything."
"Okay."
"Can Gloria pick up your car?"
She nods. "That should be fine. I'll text her."
I wrap my arm around her waist and walk with her out on to Sunset Boulevard. "Perfect, because for the foreseeable future, I don't want you out of my sight."
20
Amber
Present
In the car, Peter tells me everything that happened, and I can't believe it. I can't believe that he would do that for me, be willing to risk his entire career for me. And yet I can believe it, because that's Peter. Even when I didn't want to see it, he's been willing to give up everything for me.
"But how did you know?" I ask. "How did you know that he was high?"
The look on his face is grim. "When you grow up with an addict, you learn the signs."
I reach over and take his hand. "I never realized that it was that bad. I'm sorry. You mentioned her earlier today. What happened?"
And then he tells me that his mother came back into his life and pretended to be clean just so she could use him for money and a place to live, and when he refused, she took everything he had. "That's awful."
"It is what it is," he says.
My mind is racing, and I put two and two together. "She's the real reason you didn't want to keep quiet about the fainting." Peter says nothing as we pull into the garage of my apartment. "You'd already seen someone you love fall apart, and you didn't want to see someone else do the same thing."
"That was why," he says quietly.
I squeeze his hand as he pulls into the parking space. "Thank you."
We barely make it up to the apartment before our clothes are off and he's carrying me into the bedroom, sprawling on the bed together. "I want to make sure that this is okay," he says, "after what happened."
"Yes," I say, pulling him to me, wanting his skin on mine. "I don't want to think about him. I only want to think about you."
"In that case," he says, rolling away from me, laughing when I whine, "I have two more questions."
He pulls a couple things from his bag which he dropped in the hallway. "How much do you trust me?" he asks, coming back over. He has some papers, and something black. Sitting on the side of the bed, he hands me the black thing. I unfold the soft fabric and it takes shape in my hands as a simple black mask, for sleeping. "A blindfold?"
His hand is on the back of my neck and he pulls me in for a kiss, my nipples brushing his chest. "I don't want you to be distracted by anything, not even what you see me doing."
"And what will you be doing?"
He laughs. "For tonight, nothing I wouldn't normally do while you can see. I thought this might be a step toward other things."
I think about putting on the blindfold, and it doesn't seem scary, it seems exciting. Especially given what he told me he was going to do this afternoon. "Yeah, I can do that."
He kisses me again. "I promise you'll like it."
"I think I will."
Handing me the papers, he says, "This is the other thing. Not nearly as sexy. They’re my test results." I recognize these from my own. My own are older, but I haven't slept with anybody but him in a long time. "I was hoping—"
"No condom?"
"Yeah."
The thought of him being inside me, really inside me, makes me suddenly wet, as wet as I've been all day, with the exception of the past couple hours. "I want that," I say. "Yes."
He sweeps the papers onto the floor and pushes me back onto the bed, capturing my mouth with his own. He doesn't have to tell me how excited this makes him, because I can feel how hard he is against my stomach. And I want it too. As he kisses me, I begin to fall into that place where I don't have to think about anything, and I feel blissfully free. My face is cradled in Peter's hands, the mask soft on my skin where he's holding it.
When he finally pulls away, I'm melted, ready and content. Peter slips the mask on over my eyes, and for a second, I feel panic that I can't see him, but I can still feel him, and his kiss feels entirely different when I'm not able to just open my eyes. It feels delicious. Expansive. "Is that comfortable?"
"Yeah," I say. "It's really soft."
"Good."
His mouth is on my shoulder, and I jump in surprise. He laughs. "I made you wait all day, so you can come whenever you want. As much as you want."
Anticipation rolls through me in a wave. "Okay."
And then I can't speak anymore because he's using his mouth and tongue to paint lines on me. Across my collarbone and shoulders and around my breasts, not touching my nipples until the last second so I moan with need. I never know where he's going to touch next and it makes me feel like every nerve is a live wire waiting to be shocked. He's moving so slowly it's excruciating. The way he's sucking on my skin and tracing with his tongue, it feels like hours for him to travel across my stomach a
nd tease around my belly button. And when he reaches my mound, I think he stops completely.
He teases my thighs and the crease that leads to where I want him, but even when I raise my hips closer to his mouth, he just pushes them down and continues on his wandering journey. And he can, because I let him, because I said that it's his choice. I shiver and savor the sudden vulnerability. There's no other place where I get to feel this, the sensation of being free and light and complete. It's perfect.
It starts with his tongue. Barely a flick on the tip of my clit, and even that is enough to make me moan. The pleasure shoots inward and settles in my gut. Every tiny touch gives me more. Then his lips with fluttering kisses on my skin. On my entrance. Right next to my clit.
"Peter," I say, "you're teasing me."
"Yes, I am."
"Why?"
I can feel his smile. "Because I can."
God damn it that shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but it turns me on more, if that's even possible. He goes back to his teasing, with every round of it adding a little more of his tongue and his lips so that the pleasure is building, but never enough to send me over. I reach for him, try to guide him closer and deeper but he just chuckles and moves my hands aside. "The system, Amber. If I want you to guide me, I'll let you. Right now, this is mine." I grab my comforter instead, fisting my hands in it. I grit my teeth because the pleasure is too much and not enough and it's so good. He's not just flicking my clit with his tongue now, it's long, broad strokes across my slickness. He's slipping it inside my pussy to taste me, and then drawing is across everything before circling my clit again and again. He makes me think that he's going to stay there, that he's going to let me go over when he moves.
I practically scream, but I'm too lost in the pleasure to know if I actually do. I want to see his face buried in between my legs but I can't, and I have the urge to rip the blindfold off, but I don't. It's his choice. His choice.
Just repeating those words in my head lets me get control. It's not me, it's him. Not me. Not me.
The overwhelming need to come recedes, and I sigh, relaxing into the feel of his tongue on me, of the way he sucks me deep into his mouth. "That was very good," he says. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," I say.
And then he slips two fingers into me, and I shatter into pleasure. I do scream now, body taken off-guard by the sudden thrust and I'm flying. His mouth is sealed over my clit and he fucks me with his hand while I'm soaring on wave after wave of pleasure. All the teasing today has broken open and is working its way through me and out, until the waves spit me out, limp and wrecked on the shore of the orgasm. Peter's fingers work my G-spot, and my muscles jump and flutter, still sending pleasure in fits and sparks while I heave in breaths. His mouth is over me, lapping up every little bit of my cum just like he promised. I love it.
"You're gorgeous when you come," he says, licking over me again slowly, emphasizing his point. "Are you still sore?"
"Yes," I say, honestly, "but I don't care." I'll be damned if he's not inside me tonight.
Strong hands grab my hips and flip me over on the bed and lift my ass. I like the way he spreads me open, smooths his hands over me like he's inspecting and measuring. And I jump when his fingers touch my ass. "On those days when you're not allowed to come," he says, "I might want to fuck you here."
My pussy clenches down, and I'm wet again, because the way he says it is so confident, so sure that I'll love it and that he'll love it, that I want it. I can't help the moan that comes out of me, and the second one when his tongue is suddenly there in my ass, licking and sucking and making me want more. I didn't even know it could feel like that, let alone that I would want anyone to touch me there. But I can't even think about that now, because as soon as his mouth disappears, his cock is at the entrance to my pussy, hot and ready and bare and yessss.
Peter slips right in and doesn't stop until his balls are pressed right up against me. Giving me a second to adjust to him, I relax under his hands. They stroke down my back and up to my neck and I'm just...happy. I can't remember the last time in my life that everything was coming together like this. Even that idiot Clay can't bring me down, because we won, and as Peter pulls back and slams into me again, and again fucking me with brutal strength, I let myself surrender to the pleasure.
I reach back for him, and Peter takes my hands, holding them, not missing a beat in the rhythm. Pleasure is building fast and steadily, and I ask him to fuck me harder, and he does. He takes me and I take him, and I'm swimming through an ocean again. When lightning strikes, I feel split open, every part of me electrifies for a brief, perfect moment before it sizzles through me and leaves me breathless and gasping and feeling every movement he makes and the aftershocks of pleasure through my gut.
Peter is grunting with every thrust, the slap of his skin on mine so good, and I can feel it when he's there. He swells inside me, cock jerking as he yells out his climax, and I fall into pleasure again as heat spreads inside me. So good I never want him to stop. So good I never want to leave the bed. So good that I'll never not be angry that I missed ten years of him.
We stretch out on the bed together, and he wraps me up in his arms. I look up at him, eyes still glazed and out of it, and it's adorable. "I love you," I tell him.
He smiles, a sleepy, perfect smile. "I love you, too."
We fall asleep like that, him first, and then me, tangled together so that we'll never come apart.
It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes me up in the morning, and the sense of joy and wonderment that this is the start of waking up like this, with Peter, every day for the rest of my life.
21
Peter
Present
The credits roll, and there’s applause that greets the end of the show. I’m sitting all the way in the back, because I don’t want to take away from this moment for Amber. The room is filled with industry people. Journalists, but not just them, important industry people and the who’s who of Hollywood are here for the premiere. My jaw kind of dropped when I saw the guest list. Clay Markham is not here. He was not invited.
It’s not every day that a television show even gets a premiere, but the show has been so anticipated that we were lucky.
Amber stands up and walks to the front of the theatre during the applause. She looks fucking stunning in a shimmery gold dress that flows down her body, and I can’t wait to get a closer look at that. My first thought was that I can’t wait to peel her out of it. But she’s so sexy in it that I think I might let her keep it on. I want to watch her breasts bouncing inside that gold fabric while she comes.
It’s been a great month. We wrapped the first season of the show, and ever since then, Amber and I have just been enjoying each other. As privately as we can, even though we’re not quite as careful as we once were.
The audience quiets down and Amber begins to speak. “Thank you all so much for coming. I know I speak for the whole cast and crew when I say that we’ve worked really hard to put this show together and make it the best that it can possibly be. I hope you enjoyed watching it as much as we enjoyed making it, and here’s hoping that you’ll enjoy the rest of the season just as much. Thank you!”
There’s another round of applause and people begin standing, speaking to each other and mingling. I see several people approach Amber immediately, and from the way that she’s smiling, I hope that it’s congratulations. It’s hard to make it to her because people are trying to stop me too. I do my best to keep the conversations short, but not rude. These aren’t exactly people that you want to piss off.
I’m halfway across the room when I see the president of the studio approach her. I can see from here the way she tenses, and I excuse myself immediately. I move swiftly through the crowd, but I don’t get there in time, walking up behind her just as he’s leaving.
“Amber?” She turns, her face blank, tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong? What did he say?”
She shakes her head, drops her head into her hands
and my stomach sinks. It wasn’t good enough. They didn’t like it. I’m fired. She’s fired. All of those things swirl through my head in a second, but then she looks up at me and smiles. “We did it,” she says, laughing. “We did it. We’re greenlit for seasons two and three, and they liked it so much that they’re adding an option through season six.”
I freeze. Oh my God. This is perfect and beautiful and I think I’m so happy that it’s going to leak out of me. I laugh, and pull her into me, kissing her deeply, and it’s only when I hear a gasp that I realize what I’ve done. I step away from Amber quickly and see Gloria standing there, her mouth open. Michael is right behind her. And there’s silence that falls over the room. More and more people are looking at us until it feels like the whole theater is.
Amber is blushing, and I can’t believe that I did that. “It was just a congratulations kiss, I—”
But Amber reaches out and puts her hand on my chest. “It’s okay,” she says. “Peter and I are a couple.” She directs her words towards the studio executives, who are watching with surprise on their faces. “We’ve known each other for a long time, and the show brought us back together. If this jeopardizes the future of the show, I’ll step down.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick. She can’t step down. They can’t make her. “Are you kidding?” Gloria squeals. “People are already in love with you two. They’ve been tagging you together everywhere. Ever since you two were at that place and you bought her pie, Peter. The fans totally ship you. If everyone finds out that you’re a couple and then you step down, the fans will riot. Besides, like, on the scale of scandal, you guys are totally boring. Pie? Give me more please.”
People burst out laughing, and Amber turns into me, hiding her face. I put my arm around her, and glancing at the executive team, they’re smiling too. Thank you, Gloria. People don’t seem too stunned, and Michael gives me a thumbs up from across the room. He apologized to Amber, and since then he’s been in our corner in a big way. It’s really helped.
