Page 35 of Act Three

“What’s wrong?”

“You have a girlfriend.”

He sat up, still breathing heavily. His face was flushed, and I tried to ignore the outline of his erection where it bulged within his pants. And then he said the last thing I expected him to say.

“No, I don’t.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. I frowned and sat up on my elbows.

“But Brooke…”

“Is a massive pain in the ass, and my publicist is forcing me to be in a fake relationship with her.” Dean reached over and stroked my cheek. “It’s all for publicity.”

My mind raced, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I guess you don’t.” Dean lowered his hand to my shoulder. “But I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life. I’ve slept around, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never lied to anyone about my intentions.”

What are your intentions now?I wanted to ask, but my vagina told me to shut up as Dean leaned forward to kiss me again. I allowed myself to sink into his lips as his hands ran all over my body. He smelled like expensive cologne and it sent electricity straight up my nose and into my brain.

Fuck him, all my senses begged, and I arched my back as he unzipped my jeans so he could slide them down my hips. It had been so long since I’d done this, and my body ached for his touch. I wriggled out of the tight denim as he sat up and slid the waistband down my thighs, his eyes locked on my white lacy panties.

Think of it as method acting, the part of my brain that was controlled by my vagina reasoned.How can you pretend to fuck Dean on camera unless you know how it really feels?

When my waistband of my jeans was around my knees, Dean left it there to reach up and explore my pussy through my panties. I was soaking wet and the fabric must have been drenched, especially as he pressed it into me, his fingertips stretching the lace. He nudged it aside with one fingertip and touched me, his bare fingers pressing into my uncovered wetness as he kissed me again.

“Oh Dean,” I moaned into his mouth as he penetrated me with two fingers. I was so turned on that they slid in without any resistance, my pussy welcoming him as he stroked his way up and down my inner walls. I parted my thighs as far as I could with my knees locked into my jeans and ground over his fingers until his knuckles pressed against my opening, turning me on even more.

They felt like the base of an extra thick cock.

Dean’s erection had reached its limit now, straining against my thigh through his own jeans. He ground it against me as he fingered me, and although I couldn’t tell exactly how long it was, I knew it was wide — intimidatingly so. I reached between our bodies to unzip his pants, and he pulled his fingers out of me for a moment to help me free his erection from its cage.

It was every bit as large as I’d expected. I closed my hand around it and my middle finger didn’t touch my thumb. How was I supposed to fit it inside me? How could anyone?

But Dean didn’t seem worried. He sat up again, giving me an uninterrupted view of his long thick cock and waxed balls, as he pulled my jeans down further.

And stopped.

“What’s this?”

He’d uncovered the top of my prosthetic leg.

“It’s fine,” I said, as he frowned and pulled my jeans down to my ankles. His eyes moved to mine, then back to the length of plastic, silicone, and titanium that attached to my leg below my knee and ran down to my shoe.

“It doesn’t look fine.” Dean pulled back as though he was afraid to touch it.

“I lost my leg in a car accident when I was a kid,” I explained. “This allows me to walk. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

Dean continued to look puzzled, and I felt a stab of fear. What if this was too weird for him? What if he was repulsed by my prosthetic and wanted nothing to do with me now? What if…?

My mind raced with all my teenage fears returning. I hadn’t dated for years because I was worried about how boyfriends might react to my leg. I only lost my virginity after Eric, my boyfriend at the time, swore on his grandmother’s life that he was fine with it. And he was… until he decided he wasn’t and dumped me for a girl who had two working legs and a habit of saying “axe” instead of “ask”.

I pushed those fears down. I was too old for them now, and if Dean wasn’t okay with my body, I didn’t care.

Or at least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

But then he smiled, and it felt like that moment of hesitation had never happened.

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