Page 18 of Beneath the Fame

By the time we were done, I was more worried about myself than her, in that particular area.

Alone in my bed that night, it was damn near painful not to let my mind wander to being up close and personal with the subject of too many un-prompted fantasies in the playscape of my dreams. Fantasies I’d never hadbeforewe started working together.

Before, I could admire the fact that she was just as much of a “baddie” as she claimed and keep it pushing.

Now though?

Shiiiit.

Her fine ass was front and center to the kind of nasty shit that woke you up in a full-blown sweat, and now…I’d kissed her.

Not even the acted-out kiss in the scene, which had been passionate, rough, driven by carnal need.

Theotherkiss.

The one at her house that she’d begged me for with her eyes and I’d been more than happy to oblige, despite knowing it was a terrible idea.

It was all blended together now.

The taste of her mouth, the heat between her legs, her long nails digging into my skin as I simulated deep-stroking her on the foyer table in the dark. In the scene, there had been a need for quiet, and I went from a hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her moans to my tongue practically down her throat to do the same.

It hadn’t mattered that there was a whole camera and crew two feet away.

The sound of those moans, the clamp of her thighs…shit.

Just the memories were doing some unwanted heavy lifting right now.

In the dark of my bedroom, I grabbed my dick, squeezing to try to get some of the blood to flowawayfrom it.

Terrible idea.

That just seemed to wake it upmore, and the urge to just give in to what was happening in my head was…powerful.

Fuck it.

It waswaytoo easy to imaginemyhand as Vanessa’s.

My phone rang as soon as the thought crossed my mind.

Shit, I cursed to myself, sitting up like I’d gotten caught. The phone was happily buzzing away on my nightstand, silenced for the night since I was supposed to be asleep.

The name on the screen surprised me.

VK.

Vanessa “Vanity” Kirkland.

The numbers had been exchanged, sure, but she and I didn’t really…talk.

Not like that.

We kicked it on set, at cast parties, all that, maybe even an occasional text.

But hercallingme?

That was different.

And a bit worrying.

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