Porn Star (33 page)
Authors: Laurelin Paige,Sierra Simone
Devi
Devi
Devi,
until we both come down, until I feel her body ease and slump against mine, until my cock stops pulsing inside of her. I lift her off my dick and place her back on my lap. It occurs to me that I’m probably going to have to change into a new pair of slacks for dinner, but I don’t care.
“That was a hell of a present, Cass,” I murmur into her hair.
Her face is pressed against my chest, and I can both feel and hear her happy humming deep in her throat.
“Are you purring, little kitten?”
She nods lazily, still humming.
I glance at the clock—five in the evening. We’re supposed to meet our parents for a big family dinner at seven, which is when I planned on giving Devi her graduation present. But her present to me was so amazing, and honestly, I’d give anything to this naked goddess curled up on my lap right now.
“I have something else to make you purr,” I say, standing up and resettling her on the chair. She looks perfect, her hair mussed and her lips swollen, wearing nothing but her heels. I button myself back up and jog over to the small alcove that serves as my office, where I open a filing cabinet and pull out a little box I stashed behind all the files.
I also leave the camera running. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for years, and I want to capture every naked, sex-rumpled second of it.
My hands start to shake and my pulse starts to race, my heart somehow hammering a frantic beat in my chest and choking my throat all at once. But I manage to walk over to the chair and hand her the box as casually as possible, given the circumstances.
She smiles up at me. “Logan, this better not be expensive.”
“I only had to pawn off like half of our sex toys to buy it, it’s fine.”
She laughs and turns her attention back to the package, which is a small square box with a massive bow on top. She unties the giant silk ribbon and it falls into her lap in sinuous loops. And then she opens the lid to see what’s inside.
A ring box.
The moment it hits her, her eyes snap up to me, but I’m already on one knee in front of her.
“Devi Daryani,” I say, my voice trembling a little, “I love you more than Manjun loved Layla. I love you more than I love anything else in this life. I know you wanted to wait until we were completely done with school to move forward, but Devi, I can’t wait another second. I want to be your husband. I want you to be my wife. I want to be loving you and giving you orgasms until we’re too frail to get out of our beds in the nursing home.”
She blinks those long eyelashes rapidly, tears shimmering in her amber eyes.
“Will you marry me?” I ask, realizing I hadn’t actually said the words yet. “Will you let me be your husband?”
She takes a deep, choking breath and opens up the box. I see the reflection of the diamond in her eyes. For the first time, my vague fears crystalize into an extremely concrete and immediate terror that she’ll say no. That she wants to wait or that she doesn’t want to ever get married or, worse, that she doesn’t love me enough to bind herself to me.
“Please marry me, Devi,” I say anxiously. “Please say yes.”
She eases the ring out of its box and then she looks up, those tears finally spilling over and tracing streaks down her face.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I’ll marry you.”
My chest expands into that hugely dizzying
big
feeling, and I collapse in relief, my head falling onto her lap. “Thank God,” I mumble into the silken skin of her thighs. “I would have died if you said no.”
She runs her fingers through my hair. “As if anyone could say no to you.”
“You did once,” I remind her, nuzzling her thighs.
She parts them for me, half instinct and half banked desire from earlier. “But you had to know that I was still yours, even when I left,” she says.
I kiss my way up her thigh to her pussy, giving her clit a gentle, lingering nibble. “I didn’t know,” I say, pausing in between words to taste her. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“I think I was yours from the moment I first saw you,” she admits, shivering as my tongue finds a sensitive spot. “And that’s why I wanted you to be all mine.”
“Forever,” I say, pulling back for a minute. I take the ring and slide it onto her finger, the vintage rose gold and princess diamond beautiful and brilliant against her skin. And then I move my hand to the nape of her neck and pull her into a long kiss. Our lips move together and my ring sparkles on her hand, and the world is stunning—magnificent and mysterious and big.
Big and
real
.
And then Devi is pulling away, using her hand with its new ring to find the thick bulge in my slacks. “Fuck me like a porn star, Logan O’Toole.”
I look over my shoulder at the camera and give it a wink.
Time to get to work.
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I
t's probably
no secret to our fans that Laurelin Paige and I love porn. Tumblr porn, classy porn, kinky porn, whatever. And when we started talking about writing a book set in the porn world, we knew we wanted to be clear about two things: firstly, how sexy, fun, and surprisingly progressive the industry can be, and secondly, how deep cultures of assault, racism, misogyny and de facto coercion still run. Porn, like any other industry—film, publishing, music—is a huge world with both amazing and terrible parts, and so we wanted to make sure we highlighted both.
Pornography right now is grappling with huge issues of consent, performer safety, and piracy, and has been for much longer than Laurelin and I have been researching our story, and it would do a disservice to the very layered and complicated world of porn if we concocted an airbrushed fantasy without addressing the very real issues that threaten performers and producers today. We hope that we've written a story that showcases a realistic portrayal of porn, and we hope that after you read this, you'll be inspired to consume smut more consciously...and more voraciously.
—
S
ierra and Laurelin
T
o our agent
, Rebecca Friedman (and friend and cheerleader and soul healer), and everyone at Rebecca Friedman Literary, especially Kimberly Brower. And to our foreign agents at Bookcase Literary Agency, Flavia Viotti and Meire Deis.
To our publicist, Jenn Watson (we don’t know how you manage us most days), and the entire team at Social Butterfly PR, especially Shannon from Shanoff Formats and Hilary Suppes. To Kylie McDermott for our cover reveal and Shayna Snyder at Shayna’s Spicy Reads for our excerpt reveal.
To Sara Eirew for a cover that we flove, and to Nancy Smay for finding all our mistakes and correcting them.
To our assistants, Melissa Gaston, Candi Kane, and Sarah Piechuta - we would literally be nowhere (online) without you.
To Kayti McGee and Melanie Harlow for loving us, trapped farts and all. To JM who shares our love of (and frustration with) porn. To the women of the Order.
To the authors in our community who inspire and sustain us, especially Lola Darling, Lauren Blakely, Katy Evans, Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, C.D. Reiss, Kristy Bromberg,
To the readers who met Devi and Logan first and helped to make their story better - Jen McCoy, Liz Berry, Vox Libris, Roxie Madar, Jodi Marie Maliszewski and the Peen Queens.
To the readers who supported this book as well as the ones before, especially to Laurelin’s Lovelies, the lambs in Sierra Simone's reader group, and the fans in The Sky Launch. Our words would be pointless without people to read them. We write for you.
To our husbands and families - we’re always amazed when we survive the birth of a book and even more amazed to find you’re all still around when we’ve done so. We actually do love you more than our characters. Thank you for getting that even when we don’t show it.
To our Creator - thank you our gifts and talents. We hope we always strive to be worthy of all you’ve given us.
T
he Fixed Trilogy
T
he Found Duet
F
irst and Last
F
alling Under You
: A 1001 Nights Novella
w
ith Kayti McGee
Midnight Mass (A Priest Novella)
T
he Markham Hall Series
T
he London Lovers Duet
The Seduction of Molly O'Flaherty (a prequel)
W
ith over 1
million books sold, Laurelin Paige is the NY Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She's a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there's kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn't seem to complain, however. When she isn't reading or writing sexy stories, she's probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She's also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn't do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio.
