The Princess and the Porn Star (17 page)

“How so?”

“On-set, I’m performing for the camera.” I watched my finger make light circles around the outline of her erect nipple. “In bed, it’s all for the woman I’m with.” I leaned down and traced the same path with the tip of my tongue. “Nobody matters but her.”

Rachel moaned and wriggled against me.

“And I don’t give a damn who’s watching,” I whispered. “Because all I’m watching is the woman I’m with.” I slid my fingers into her hair. “And you’d better believe, every time I’ve fucked you”—I barely kept myself from shivering when she did—“I was
definitely
watching you.” When I closed my fingers around her hair, she pulled in a hiss of breath and closed her eyes.

Rachel licked her lips and looked up at me. “Did you like what you saw?”

“
Ooh
, yeah.” I leaned in as if to kiss her but stopped just short of touching my lips to hers. “In fact, I think I might like to see it again.”

“Would you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then we should get upstairs.”

“Right now.”

“Agreed.”

We couldn’t get upstairs and out of our clothes fast enough. I barely had the presence of mind to avoid tearing anything, and I was quickly getting close to not caring if I did.

Movement caught my eye, and when I turned my head, I realized it was our reflection in the full-length mirror. My hand cupped her breast, and the sight as much as the warm, soft touch made me even harder.

I turned her around and made her face the mirrored closet doors. “You asked if I liked what I saw,” I growled in her ear. “
This
is what I saw.”

Rachel whimpered, and her back arched off my chest.

I kissed behind her ear. “And you’d better believe I liked it.” The woman against me breathed faster as the one in the mirror moistened her lips. I nipped her neck, and she bit her lip. “I loved it. Every fucking second.”

She whimpered again, reaching back just like she had on the set of her video and sliding her hands over the sides of my thighs.

“Get on your knees,” I growled into her ear.

Whether it was conscious effort or just a submissive reflex, Rachel’s knees buckled. I eased her to the floor and, before I joined her, went to the nightstand for a condom. Then I knelt behind her. She leaned back, and we kissed over her shoulder. I slid my hand around her throat. Rachel ground her ass against my erection, and I couldn’t take any more.

With a hand between her shoulder blades, I pushed her down onto her arms.

“Stay just like that.” As I tore open the condom, she looked at the mirror, her ponytail dropping over one shoulder. Her hair was bound with a loose holder, and I slid it free. “Don’t think you’ll need that.”

She bit her lip again, and our eyes met in the mirror as some of her hair tumbled down the sides of her face, the rest pooling on her back and shoulders. Goddammit, now she looked even more spectacular. Disheveled. Primal. I had to be inside her
right now
.

I put the condom on as quickly as I could and positioned myself behind her again. She moaned, leaning back against me, but I held her hip in one hand and grabbed her hair in the other. I jerked her head back and shivered when she yelped.

“Look at yourself,” I said, already panting. “Look, Rachel.”

She opened her eyes. Blinked a few times. Then held her own gaze in the mirror, heavy-lidded eyes locked on heavy-lidded eyes.

And that was when I forced myself inside her.

“Oh God…” Her arms shook under her. She looked into my eyes, her own, mine again.

“Like what you see, baby?” I growled, struggling to keep my voice somewhat even. “Like watching me fuck you?”

She whimpered an affirmative and struggled to keep her eyes open. I tightened my grip on her hair, and she gasped, eyes widening.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “God, Lee, don’t just—”

I slammed into her again. Again. Fuck,
again
. Rachel moaned and rocked back against me, her voice jumping to a yelp every time I thrust into her, and there I pleaded with myself—
ordered
myself—to last, because this had to go on. Fucking her like this, watching her like this, was too damned hot to be over quickly.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “That’s…”

“Touch yourself,” I ordered.

Without a second of hesitation, Rachel shifted onto one arm. Her other hand disappeared beneath her. A second later, her pussy tightened around my cock. I groaned, letting go of her hair and gripping her hips, and kept thrusting as deep inside her as I could.

I’d seen myself on video more times than I could count, watched myself fuck more women than I could remember, but nothing—nothing—was as hot as watching myself with Rachel. Holy hell.

“That’s it, baby,” I said through gritted teeth. “Make yourself come.”

Her head fell forward. A sound that was as helpless as it was primal escaped her, and her whole body shuddered. She cried out and dropped onto her forearm. Oh Jesus, she was impossibly tight, squeezing my cock harder every time I forced myself into her.

She lifted her head, and this time, unruly dark hair fell over her eyes, over her parted lips. Stripper heels, tight leather, and semi-choreographed dance moves were one thing, but on her hands and knees with her hair falling over her face and her eyes on fire as she took me again and again and again, she’d never looked so animalistic and raw, so beautifully sexual and uninhibited.

I closed my eyes and fucked her as hard as I could, not holding back any more as my orgasm started to close in.

“Wait,” she said.

My eyes flew open. I slowed down, nearly stopped. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Her reflection met my eyes. “Stop, stop, please…”

Puzzled and alarmed, I did. “Are you—”

The words lodged in my throat when she leaned forward. I wasn’t inside her anymore. Confusion spun my head around. I wasn’t inside her. What happened? Why—

Rachel turned around. Still on her knees, she reached for my cock, and before I could make sense of what was happening, she’d pulled off the condom and put it aside. Then her mouth and hands were around my dick.

“Oh, fuck…” I stared down at her, slack-jawed.

She looked up at me as she took me deeper into her mouth than I thought she could. I was in heaven, watching Rachel—the real one and the reflected one—suck my cock. From here, I could see her naked curves and her hands and mouth working their magic. Like being the voyeur and the participant.

“Fuck, baby,” I whispered. “Fuck, yes…”

She stroked and sucked me with even more enthusiasm, squeezing tighter and mercilessly teasing the head with her lips. I gripped her hair, not enough to force her onto my cock or hinder her
oh my God
mind-blowing motion, but enough to keep me anchored.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered. My eyes rolled back. My spine couldn’t decide if it was straightening or turning to liquid. My toes curled into the coarse carpet, and if I could have breathed at all, I’d have cursed from the sheer intensity as she drew my orgasm out, stroke after stroke, squeezing and fluttering just right until I couldn’t take anymore and managed to whisper, “Stop, baby, stop…”

Rachel sat up, grinning at me as she ran the back of her hand across her lower lip.

“Oh my God.” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against me as I caught my breath. “And you didn’t think you could fuck while you were being watched?”

She grinned up at me. “Well, if that’s what you mean when you talk about being watched, then sign me up any time, any place.”

“Ditto.”

I kissed her once more, and then we got up off the floor and moved into my bed. Once we’d settled under the sheets, some thought furrowed Rachel’s brow.

“Something on your mind?” I asked.

She hesitated, laughing shyly. “I don’t know, maybe it’s not the best time to ask.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, well…” Another moment of hesitation. “When you’re…in front of the cameras, it is
really
that different?”

I nodded. “Oh yeah. It’s not the same at all. Not even close. You just go through the motions. I’m more concerned with pleasing the cameras than pleasing her, and she’s more concerned about the cameras than me too. There’s nothing. No connection at all.”

“But you enjoy it?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Well, there
are
times when it’s nothing but work.”

“Really?”

I nodded again. “You ever been in a relationship that’s pretty much dying, and you have sex with the person and just don’t feel a thing anymore? And it’s not even fun physically because you don’t even want to be in the room with the person?”

Rachel groaned. “God, yes.”

“Okay, well, it’s kind of like that, except there was never a connection to begin with. And sometimes I’m not interested in the girl, or she’s not interested in me. Or we’ve worked together before and don’t like each other. Sometimes I’m uncomfortable. Those positions that look great on camera are murder on the body, especially when you have to keep at it forever. Or sometimes I’m just not feeling it.”

“Is it always that difficult?”

“Not at all. I mean, it’s never easy, going for hours and hours on end like that, but sometimes, everything clicks, and it’s fun and hot.” Heat rushed into my cheeks. “That must sound incredibly sleazy.”

“Not really.” She turned onto her side and rested her hand in the middle of my chest. “With a job like that, what would be the point if you didn’t enjoy it at least sometimes?”

“Good point.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “Some people get really weirded out by it, though. Especially if they’re in relationships.”

“Is that common? Porn stars being in relationships?”

“Hell, I know a few who are quite happily married.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “And some, well, not so much. One time, this girl had her boyfriend with her on-set. Which is fine. A lot of women do that. But she hadn’t been seeing him long, and I guess he wasn’t used to the idea of her being in porn.”

“But he knew, right?”

“Of course.” I absently put my hand over her wrist and ran it up and down her forearm. “But there’s a difference between bragging that your girlfriend is a porn star and actually watching her get fucked by another guy for hours on end.”

“Yeah, I suppose there would be.”

“There is. So this guy was built like a brick shithouse too, and I thought he was going to kick my ass.”

“But he didn’t, did he?”

I shook my head. “Fortunately, no. He sure made me nervous, though.”

“I believe it.” She clasped our fingers together. “So you had to… You had to have sex? While
he
was watching?”

I nodded. “In fact, I think in the final cut you can actually see me looking at him a few times.”

Rachel giggled. “Wow. I still can’t imagine being watched while I’m having sex.”

“Can’t you?” I ran the backs of my fingers down her cheek. “You didn’t mind when I watched you.”

Her brow furrowed with confusion for a second, but then she laughed. “Okay, but it’s not like you were just standing off on the sidelines and watching. You were an active participant.”

“True.” I paused. “All this, it…doesn’t weird you out, does it?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Part of me thinks it should, but no, it doesn’t.” She met my eyes. “Is
that
weird?”

“No. In fact, it’s rather refreshing.” I kissed the top of her head. “If people find out, they’re going to speculate, though, and they’re going to tell you all kinds of things about how I feel, what I do, all of that.” I lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes. “But I promise you,
this
has nothing to do with what I do on a set.”

Rachel smiled. She pulled me closer, and just before she kissed me, said, “I believe you.”

And nothing else needed to be said.

Chapter Eleven

Rachel

THINK HE’S KISSED HER YET?—Olivia Taylor Spotted Ducking Out of Porn Star Buck Harder’s L.A Condo

The sizzling chemistry between once-troubled singer Olivia Taylor, 26, and porn star Buck Harder, 29, is undeniable as the two cozy up in her controversial new music video for the single “You Ain’t Even Kissed Me Yet”. But is that just acting? Or does the pop star, whose former squeaky clean image was shattered by drug addictions and out-of-control behavior, really have eyes for the five-time Skinman Award winner?

Taylor’s behavior is no stranger to the headlines. A painkiller-and-cocaine habit overshadowed her previously successful career, as well as bringing her turbulent relationship with Oryx lead singer Dawson Wright to an explosive end.

After her third album flopped even more miserably than her second, Taylor hit rock bottom. She emerged from rehab into obscurity, mostly disappearing from the public eye except for the occasional desperate role in train-wreck reality shows such as
Blind Dates with Celebrities,
and most notably,
Marooned Celebrities
, which resulted in Taylor and actress Jessica Hailey being airlifted off a remote island after both were bitten by brown recluse spiders.