I slipped my UGGs back on and headed toward my trailer, trying to shake it off. But I could feel the tension in my back and neck tightening with each step.
“Austin,” Kathleen called from the makeup trailer, quickly catching up with me. “Do you need something to help you relax? I was going to offer it to you earlier, but there were so many people in there... I have some Xanax. It really will help get you through the first day jitters.”
God, did I look like a ball of nerves?
I couldn't deny I felt like it. I mean, the show was huge for me—I wrote it, and I was the lead. If the show failed, it was on me, and it would leave these people unemployed for who knew how long.
Yeah, you could say I was stressed.
“No. Thank you, though.”
Making the trek back to my trailer, the tension built as the full weight of my current situation settled in. I had been successfully shoving it aside, or so I thought.
Maybe I had just been ignoring it, not hiding it.
When I approached the trailer, David was standing outside talking to Alec. Aaron was nowhere in sight.
At David's wide-eyed expression, I looked down, realizing how obscene my breasts were in the dress. They bounced up and down like water balloons with each step. I wasn't sure if a nipple had escaped, and without a mirror, I couldn't tell.
Fuck, I forgot my cardigan.
It had been so long since I’d been on a set, I’d pretty much forgotten all my staples—baggy sweats, cardigan, blanket, pillow and my laptop.
“I'll be in hair and makeup. See you on set.” Alec was clearly unmoved by my appearance, which I hoped David noticed.
“’Kay,” I sighed, turning to David.
His eyebrows pulled together, making that cute W. “What's wrong?”
The list was long.
“I forgot my fucking cardigan, along with everything else. My tits are bouncing all over the place, and two fucking people have offered me Xanax,” I whispered harshly.
I hadn’t even been aware it bothered me that much until that moment. Sure, I was stressed and nervous, but to basically tell a complete stranger to take Xanax? I had gone from offended to pissed.
“Austin, calm down. We—”
“Don't fucking tell me to calm down,” I snapped.
His eyebrows lifted, in either offense or surprise, I couldn't tell. But his expression made me aware of my behavior.
I was stressed. I was freaking out, and I was taking it out on him. I only knew one way to fix it. Grabbing David's hand, I pulled him into the trailer.
“Austin, just—” he tried.
“We all have our own vices,” I cut him off, my tone cold as I pushed him down onto the couch.
He stared up at me confused, and I softened instantly. He had to be the sweetest fucking man I’d ever met.
“For some it's alcohol,” I rasped, toeing my boots off. “For others it's drugs.” I slid the lacy panties down, letting them fall to the floor, stepping out of them. Pulling my dress up, I crawled into his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs, my hands gripping the firm swells of his shoulders as I leaned in. “For me... it's fucking you,” I breathe against his lips. “Filthy. Sweet. It doesn't matter... Your cock is my own personal Xanax. From bitch to chill with just a few deep strokes.”
“That's what you need?” he asked in a tone I'd never heard before, but my body didn't hesitate in releasing a new flood of arousal.
God, that voice. Smooth, deep, and husky, going straight to my pussy.
“I need you to fuck me so I can get through a few more hours.” My hands moved to the hem of his shirt, lifting. But he quickly took over, pulling his shirt off with one smooth motion.
I took a moment, appreciating the view of layers of honed muscle shifting under his flawless skin. Unable to resist, my fingers trailed along his strong traps, down his sculpted pecs, tracing the deep grooves of his eight pack.
“What're you gonna do when I'm not here?” His tone was still pure sex, but the genuine concern was clear as his hands settled on my bare hips, thumbs brushing back and forth in a rhythmic sweep.
“Be a miserable, uptight bitch.”
“You're not as bad as you think you are... And I'll fake an injury anytime you want,” he murmured against my lips before claiming them in a heated kiss. His right hand moved, sliding up my inner thigh, stopping when his fingertips reached the crease. “I was going to complain about this slit, but its seriously convenient.”
Those fingers brushed back and forth. Teasing me. “And I think you’re about to fulfill one of my childhood fantasies.”
“What’s that?” I breathed, my body strung tight with anticipation, aroused by nothing more than his lips, voice, and those skilled digits.
“Fucking Jessica Rabbit,” he admitted huskily, his heated gaze held mine as his teasing fingers left me, moving to his mouth, dragging them across the flat of his tongue. It was raw, vulgar, and hot as hell.
Then those slick, warm digits met my sex, pushing into me with a controlled explicitness. My body shuddered, violent arousal shooting through me.
“Ugh.” I rotated my hips, working his fingers deeper. “Should’ve told me that at Halloween.”
I wasn’t actually horny when I pulled him into the trailer, but now...
“Goddamn, girl,” he groaned.
“Get your cock out,” I panted, riding his hand. When he didn’t immediately obey, I asked, “Are you hard yet?”
“Fuck, yeah.” His eyebrows pulled together, looking at me like I was crazy. “Been hard since you walked up in that dress, tits bouncing, hips swaying.” His hand on my hip squeezed, then roamed down my thigh and over the curve of my ass. His touch was both reverent and obscene, telling me he loved me, but he needed me to be his little slut, his dirty girl.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” I started, remembering not to say sorry as I worked my cunt on his fingers. Using him.
“Yeah, you should. That’s what I want, let me see what you’re feeling. I fucking love it when you let loose like that—especially when it’s not because of me.”
I huffed a soft laugh, my hands dropping to his zipper, tugging and fumbling to get it down.
His fingers left me then, taking over the chore with easy, graceful movements.
“Up,” he muttered.
Without hesitation, I shifted up onto my knees as he lifted his hips, shoving his jeans down to midthigh.
“You wanted it, take it” he challenged, holding his dick out for me, a vulgar invitation. It was so swollen and angry, pulsing in his hand. My mouth watered, wanting to feel that velvet over steel throbbing against my tongue. The corset of my dress pinched as I shifted, reminding me I couldn't.
Definitely later.
Gripping his shoulders for balance, I slowly sank down, savoring the feel of the thick column of flesh pressing into me. .
“Oh God,” I gasped, settling in his lap, his wide head pushing against my end, his warm hips snugged tight between my inner thighs.
His length jerked deep inside me. Twitching.
I shivered and my pussy clenched, squeezing him tight.
His head fell back as he groaned, a low, guttural sound, heating my blood. His hands gripped my ass, tight, his arm holding the skirt out of the way, giving us a perfect view of our joined bodies. Lifting up, I watched his dick, glistening with my slickness.
“Watch,” I breathed, tucking my head into the crook of his neck.
I loved watching his cock moving in and out of me. Fucking me.
“Mmmm, that’s so hot when you watch,” he breathed.
*****
His hands slid up my sides, thumbs grazing the edges of my breasts, finger digging into my back in a greedy, possessive touch.
“How the hell is this thing staying up?” he rasped.
"Corset." l moved his hands down, letting him feel the rigid bodice setting on my hips.
"You've worn corsets before. This thing is like armor.” He tried to squeeze the unyielding garment.
I giggled. I actually fucking giggled. This man turned me into a school girl.
"Had one in my wedding dress.”
He made a rough sound of acceptance or annoyance; I couldn't tell which.
He sighed, resigned, getting to his feet, gripping my hand, and entwining our fingers.
“Okay, let's go test my restraint.”
I really hoped he could control himself for an hour or so. Over the weekend, we agreed I wouldn’t actually kiss anyone on the mouth, except Alec, and Alec and I would cheat kiss; slightly off to the side of the mouth. But the fact that he was going to see it...
On tiptoes, I kissed his throat, chin, and lips, then swore, “I love you so hard.”
“I love the fuck outta you. But save the sweetness till after. Or when I’m seeing red and trying to rip Alec’s head off for touching you.”
Fuck...
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
David
“Did you see?" Noah asked, holding his phone out to me, gloatingly as I entered the locker room. “Already replaced you," Noah informed me as I looked at the image of Alec sitting with my wife at the Polo Lounge.
The headline read, “Austin James Has A New Man.”
My anger flared. Not because they were together, though that was annoying, but because we had agreed they would wait a month to start being seen in public together. It hadn’t even been a week.
I glared at him, not wanting to show weakness, not wanting him to know how much that bothered me. Alec was spending time with my wife when I was struggling to get ten minutes alone with her.
Her filming schedule had been more intense than either of us had anticipated, and it’d only been five days. It hadn’t helped that I'd had night games—except today—which meant I hadn't been getting home until one a.m., while she had to be on set at seven a.m. But apparently she'd had time off this morning.
And the fact that she hadn't told me... I didn't have words to describe how I felt.
Devastated came pretty close.
“Watch yourself,” I warned Noah, before going to my locker.
Stripping, I grabbed a towel and my phone before heading for the trainer, trying to clear my mind of what might be going on with Austin.
Lying on the table, I checked my messages.
Austin: Alec got me a meeting with his agent.
Going to Polo Lounge. Break a bat for me!
9:13 AM
Austin: Went well! I miss you!!!! I can't wait
to see you tonight!!!
10:40 AM
Austin: I love you.
10:41 AM
Her text consoled me some, but not completely. As irrational as it was, I thought she should have asked my permission before going.
I dialed Austin.
“Hey, babe.” She sounded happy to hear from me, like nothing was wrong. “Did you get my texts?”
Unable to restrain myself, I demanded, “You need to tell me before you go to lunch with anyone. You need to check with me.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yeah, I'm fucking mad.”
And it wasn’t just about her going to lunch with Alec to meet an agent. I hated that she had been fine the past few days without me. Like she didn’t need me anymore. That first day, she had been so fucking needy and clingy... I wanted her like that everyday.
“David, I actually don't,” she snapped back. “But I did text you to let you know.”
I loved her defiance, but not on this subject. I didn't want her having lunch with men who weren't me, and certainly not with men who I hadn't okayed beforehand.Knowing the only way to win an argument with her was in person, I said, “I'm not gonna argue with you over the phone. When are you getting on the plane?”
“After I'm done filming. We have two more scenes.” Her anger was already fading.
“Okay, but I'm not okay with that happened today,” I pressed.
“Yeah, I got that, David.” And her anger was back. “You're not here, and I can't stop everything until you call me back or text me back. It's unrealistic.”
“Not gonna argue with you over the phone, Austin.”
“Then don't. I'll see you soon.”
“Yes, you will,” I promised, quietly, darkly.
I ended the call feeling only marginally better than before. I knew it wasn't realistic for her to stop everything and wait to hear back for me, but that's what I wanted. I wanted to be included in every fucking decision she made.
****
Two hours later, my patience was wearing thin. I hadn’t heard from her, so I texted Fergus.
David: Is she on the plane yet?
5:55 PM
Fergus: No, they have one more scene
to get through and they just started it.
5:57 PM
Fucking fine.
David: I’ll be there in a little bit.
5:59 PM
When I arrived at the studio, security refused to let me in, only adding to how insignificant I felt in Austin's life.
“I'm sorry, sir. Miss James requested a closed set today. No guests allowed. I know you're her husband, I know who you are, but I just have to get clearance or I could get fired,” he rambled on.
If Austin requested a closed set, that meant someone had a nude scene today.
Could today get any fucking worse?
“Yeah, I get it,” I assured the security guard. I dug my phone from my back pocket and dialed Fergus. He answered immediately.
“I'm at the gate,” I said, then ended the call, not waiting for a response. I wasn’t giving him a chance to give me any excuses. Despite my warning, it seemed he was still protecting Austin from me at times.
Moments later, the security guard said, “You can go in now. Sorry again, Mr. Taylor.”
“No problem.” Because the truth was, it wasn't his fault. It was my fault. My relationship with my wife was not where it should be, and that was on me.
Going straight to her trailer, I didn't bothering knocking before I went in. She wasn't there. As I exited, I let the door slam a little too loudly, gaining attention from several crew members. Not having any idea where Austin was, I dug my phone out of my pocket. Just as I was about to call Fergus, I heard someone behind me say, “They just finished. She's on her way back, Mr. Taylor.”
Not wanting to cause scene, I sat in one of the chairs she had in front.
I didn't like this.
I didn't like it at all.
I felt like a fucking visitor in my wife's life. This shit was going to end today.
The sun had already set, but I would recognize my wife's silhouette anywhere, but she didn't recognize me until she got within ten feet of me.
“David? Oh my God, I was wondering who was sitting here waiting on me.”
“That's fucked up, don't you think?”
“What?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“That you didn't recognize me.”
“David, it's not like that,” she tried to explain.
“That's exactly how it is, Austin.”
I stood up and opened the door to her trailer, motioning for her to go in. “Come on.”
“Are we fighting?” she asked as she climbed up the steps.
“No.” I crowded in behind her, shutting and locking the door.
“Why are you here? I was coming to see you.”
“No, you weren't. You just now finished.”
If I would've waited in Phoenix for Austin, I wouldn't have been able to see her until midnight. I was tired of only seeing her for a few minutes before we fell asleep. And the fact that she didn’t seem to realize or care...
Then after moment I realized, “Where's Chance?”
“Fergus took him out to walk him a little bit.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant.
“Don't take a shower or bother washing your face, just change your clothes. We’re going straight home.”
I wanted our normal back, our routine. As stupid as it was, I wanted her at home with me when she showered and got ready for bed.
“Did you eat dinner yet?” I checked.
“No,” she answered quietly.
From her demeanor, she honestly had no idea what I was mad about. Or maybe she was counting on not having to see me until much later, so that she wouldn't have to talk about it.
Either way, she was obviously surprised by the current situation. And that pissed me off more, because if I was gonna fly to see my wife, to surprise my wife, I wanted her to be fucking happy to see me. And I wouldn't describe Austin's demeanor at that moment as pleased.
As I sat on the couch waiting for her to change, my gaze caught on the black chair. One of Alec’s jackets was tossed across the back, casual as could be. I couldn't help but wonder who all she’d had in the trailer with her when what she was doing caught my attention.
“Why are you changing back there with the door shut?” I called. “Austin?”
When she didn't respond. I got up and opened the door. She was standing there clutching a hoodie to her chest.
“Really? You're treating me like some fucking stranger now?”
“No, I... It's just habit now, I guess.”
A habit she formed in five days? Bullshit.
“You know, before I showed up here, I thought our only problem was communication, but now I'm realizing I'm a fucking tourist in my wife's life. I don't think I have to tell you that I really don't fuckin’ like the way that feels.”
She dropped the hoodie and hugged me tight. Her small hands moved underneath my T-shirt, sliding from the small of my back up my spine.
It was sick how relieved I was by that small gesture. My arms wrapped around her, the soft skin of her back under my fingertips, pulling her into me. That's what I wanted, to pull her into me, to never feel separated, to never feel like this again.
“I never meant for you to feel like that. I never want you to feel like that,” she murmured into my chest. “You're not a tourist. And I miss you so fucking much every day, but I don't want to tell you constantly. I don't want to put pressure on you, because I know you have to be gone.”
I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear that. That she missed me as desperately as I missed her.
Austin
“Is it always going to be like this?” I asked as I flopped down next to Alec on the sofa in my trailer.
We only had one more scene to do before we were officially done with the pilot. Then we’d have an entire week off before we started filming the next episode. And it had been exactly one week since David had showed up on set, pissed about my meeting with Alec and the agent.
“Like what?” Alec asked distractedly, looking through my DVR.
“This stressful? This time consuming?”
We'd been working twelve hour days for the past two weeks, and it was getting to be too much. David was getting more and more frustrated with my long hours and our conflicting schedules. And I couldn't blame him.
The past two weeks had been a painful adjustment—for both of us. David had held true to his word, coming home every night, but that frequently meant he wasn't getting home until long after I was asleep.
Something inside me ached at the loss.
Of us.
Our routine.
Somewhere along the way, David had become my best friend. And I missed him fiercely.
“No, I think it's just because it's the pilot. Has to be perfect. It can make or break the show. Sometimes a network determines future seasons based on it. You're just feeling that pressure. We all are.”
“I know... Do you think I made a mistake with some of the cast?” I checked, wondering if he had gotten any weird vibes from anyone.
There were three other regulars on the show, all of them had more screen time than Alec. But I hadn’t had the chance to get to know any of them, just Alec.
“No, we don't know each other yet. And I'm sure they're stressed too.” His genuine lack of concern eased my fears, a little.
Truth was, I was quickly regretting a casting choice I’d okayed four days earlier. For more than one reason. The big one being, David was pissed about it.
It had seemed like a good decision at the time.
“Knock, knock,” Sam, the director, barged in without actually knocking. “Having a wrap party at my house tonight, you guys in?”
“Yeah, I’ll stop by,” Alec pipped up.
“Uh,” I hesitated, not wanting to go at all. But if Alec was... “Yeah, definitely.”
“Great, it’s casual, no photo ops, just fun.” He handed me and Alec a big sticky note with his address.
“We’re almost ready, guys. Go ahead and get last looks.” He exited my trailer as abruptly as he entered.
Before I could ask Alec about the party, Jessica popped in. “They’re ready for you.”
Crap… Looks like I’m going.
David was going to be furious.
****
As soon as we arrived home, I told Fergus he could have the weekend off. He had been with me for the past five days without any time for himself—we both needed a break. And since he knew of my weekend plans, he agreed.
While Fergus checked the house over, I packed for a long weekend. Once he was gone and the gate was shut behind him, I called David.
“Hey, sweetheart.” David sounded partly relieved, partly excited. “You on the plane yet?
“Hi, babe. I thought you had a game tonight?”
“In it right now, brought my phone into the dugout.”
“Well... how much longer do you think it'll be?” Baseball games were absurdly long, and normally I found that irritating, but at the moment I was counting on it to save my ass.
“Couple more hours probably.” His words were slow, measured. He knew something was up. “Why?”
I hesitated. “I have a last-minute party that I have to go to.” I held my breath waiting for his response.
“Our deal was as soon as you finished, you come here,” he accused, none too subtly. After a moment of silence, he asked, “What's this last-minute party for?”
“It's a wrap party. And I feel like I should go—I don't want to seem antisocial.” That was the truth. I had no desire to go without David, which was alarming in itself.
“You are antisocial. You think you should be setting expectations for future behavior you won't be able to meet?”He had a valid point.
“I think I should this season, and then next season I can be my normal antisocial self,” I explained, hoping he would understand work was the only reason I wanted to go.
“Where's this party at?”
“The director’s house.”
“You're not going.” His tone was final.
“David—”
“Austin, you're not going.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but the demand was clear. “You don't—”
“David,” I cut him off, not willing to allow him to dictate to me from another state. If he wanted to control what I did, he had to be here. “Alec is going too. I feel like if Alec thinks he should go, I definitely need to go. It will be fine. I'll be there for like an hour—hour-and-a-half—and then I'll be on a plane and headed down there. Okay?”
“Sweetheart, you don't—” he started, his tone gentle.
“Babe,” I interrupted what was sure to be a very effective directive in that tone—his I-love-you-more-than-anything-and-would-do-anything-for-you tone. “I gotta go.”
“Austin—”
I could hear the announcer in the background, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“I'll see you after a little while.”
“Austin—” he repeated, his tone hard, gruff, all sweetness gone.
I ended the call before he could say anything else. I knew it was rude, but I needed to socialize with these people, at least until I got to know them a little bit better.
I fed Chance, then took advantage of the time I had to get a mani-pedi, hoping that would help make me not look as overworked and tired as I felt when I saw David.
By the time I got home, it was almost nine and my plan had been to attend the party from nine thirty to ten thirty, and then get on the plane and spend the next four days with David. While sacrificing a few hours away from David sucked, I knew it was something I was going to have to do occasionally, and I hoped attending this party would help soften the blow when I didn't attend future gatherings.
Because truth be told, I'd rather stay home and fuck David all day than socialize with other people.
I hopped in the shower quickly, not bothering with washing my hair. Minutes later, I was pulling on some cropped skinny ripped jeans, a black V-neck sweater, and a pair of nude platform flip-flops.
The director said it would be casual, and I was only half taking him at his word. I called for car service, quickly packed Chance’s bag, then got him settled with the TV on his preferred channel. I was setting our bags by the front door—wanting to leave as soon as I was done serving my time, making a public appearance—when my phone rang.
It was David.
“Change your mind about the party?” he asked as soon as the call connected.
I couldn’t deny his rough voice was enough to make me reconsider.
“No, I'm getting ready to leave now, but our bags are packed and ready to go, so I should be on the plane in two hours.”
When he didn't respond immediately, I started to get nervous. Then I heard something in the background.
A woman's voice.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, a chill racing down my spine as my heart stilled. “David, where are you? Are you at the house?”
“No, when you changed your plans, I had to change mine a little bit.”
“Are you mad?”
“Mad? Not mad.” He paused. “Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Everything's fine. I'll see you soon.”
Then the call ended.
Before I could fully process what had just happened, my phone rang again. It was the car service.
Quickly, I locked up the house and headed down the driveway to the waiting car. I found the crumpled-up piece of paper in my purse with the director’s address and handed it to the driver.
With it being a Friday night, navigating from the Hollywood Hills through West Hollywood took longer than usual, but once we arrived, there was no mistaking which house was having the party.
I tipped the driver before stepping out onto the street. High squeals, laughter, and splashing could be heard coming from the backyard of the massive Beverly Hills estate as I made my way up the driveway to the front door—a front door that was wide open with no one in sight.
Entering someone's home when you have never been there before was an odd feeling, and there was always that moment of feeling like it might be the wrong house. But before I could fully process that feeling, one of the extras I'd seen earlier in the day came streaking through the living room.
“Hey, you want something to drink?” the director asked as he entered.
I wasn’t sure what my expectations were, but finding Sam Massey, my director, wearing swim trunks and nothing else was not it. Maybe it was because I was accustomed to David's body, but I wasn't intimidated by Sam anymore, wasn't impressed. I'd been so nervous around him, the Oscar-winning director, but now he seemed extremely average without his shirt on.
"If you have flat water, that would be great,” I answered, scanning the room, completely relaxed now.
“Coming right up. I'll be right back, and I'll give you a tour of the house.”
“Sounds great.”
David
Austin was out of her fucking mind if she thought I was gonna sit in Arizona and wait for her while she went to a Hollywood party.
Correction... a Hollywood house party.
No fucking way.
Austin was still green to this level of fame; she didn't know what to look for. And she tended to be uptight around strangers. Odds were someone would slip her something to get her to relax and have fun. To get her to stay.
That type of thing was common.
Extremely common.
I knew something was up when she asked about my game, that’s why I lied—the game had just ended. I didn't blame Austin for ignoring me about the party. I wasn't happy about the show, and I hadn’t been hiding it. I’d been riding her ass all week. Complaining about every little thing.
I thought for sure she knew what I was up to when she asked where I was. And I wasn't the type of man to hit a woman, but the flight attendant saw I was on the phone and felt compelled to talk to me anyway, which left my wife thinking who-the-fuck-knew-what. Judging from the way she asked, “Where are you,” it wasn't anything good.
We'd already landed. I should've waited till I got off the plane and in the car to call.
Was I happy that she was possibly pissed at me, thinking I was with a woman while she was on her way to a Hollywood party? No.
Could I have explained? Yes.
But I wanted to see what was really going on.
She spent more time with these people during the week than she did me. She let Fergus go for the weekend, even packed in front of him before he left, made sure he was long gone before letting me know about the party. And I knew she went to the salon before the party.
Who did she want to look nice for?
But there was a real possibility that she just felt obligated to make an appearance.
Either way, I was going to find out.
And it wouldn't be long.
I couldn't help but wonder if she'd forgotten that I could track her phone. Or that she could track mine.
Austin
After the tour of the house, I went outside to be social. Sitting on one of the pool chairs, I sipped my flat water, watching the craziness unfold before me. The only person there I knew beside the director was Matthew. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since that night a drunken Tara humiliated him over the phone in front of David and me.
Not until his audition tape landed on my desk, and technically that was from his agent. Mathew was the casting choice David was pissed about. And aside from him, not a single other cast member was there.
Thirty minutes later, I realized Alec wouldn't be making an appearance. Everyone was half-dressed or completely nude. It was not the kind of party I'd thought it was. Just as I was about to get up and quietly leave, Matthew called to me.
“Austin, come here.”
Matthew and I had come to a truce. For one, he was a really good actor. Two, he was only going to be in six out of twelve episodes for this season. Three, after what happened with Zach, I was confident Mathew’s behavior toward me would completely change.
Standing up, I walked over to the hot tub where Matthew was sitting with two topless girls.
As I approached, he pulled away from them and came over to the side where I was.
“Sit down. You already have enough power over me. You don't have to stand over me, too,” Matthew said as he gripped my foot.
Still hyperaware these were people I'd be working with every day, I played it cool, not wanting to come across as a major bitch.
“Okay, okay, fine.” My tone was teasing as I slid my flip-flops off and sat at the edge of the hot tub, letting my feet dip in.
“Here.” Matthew tugged me closer, until my calves were in the water.
“Oh, leave her alone,” the director said as he scooted over.
I hadn't even realized he was in there. And honestly, him being in there with topless females was not something I wanted to witness. Definitely not a scene I wanted to be a part of.
“Guys, I appreciate you inviting me, but I haven't seen my husband, and he's waiting on me.”
“Oh, come on. He can wait a little longer. Relax. Just chill for twenty more minutes. You make us feel like we're not cool enough for you.”
That was true.
They were not cool enough for me, but in the interest of work, I decided to stick it out. I sat there continuing to sip my water, nodding and pretending like the two topless girls weren't actually there.
It wasn't long before I started feeling really tired, unnaturally tired.
Minutes later, or maybe it was seconds, the director grabbed my thigh, squeezing, and said, "Do you want to take these off and get in?"
Then everything snapped into place. I'd been given something. Again. But that euphoric arousal was absent.
I felt my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I tried to focus. I needed my phone. I needed to get my ass up, but my legs felt heavy and numb.
“Get in, hangout with us. You can see your husband anytime,” a different guy said, a guy I didn't recognize.
Then that guy moved next to me, his hand moving to my hip, trying to pull me closer. I felt another hand tugging at the neck of my shirt, fingertips crazing my breast. I tried to push them away, but my movements were sluggish and weak.
“Get your hands off her.” David's deep voice boomed behind me.
Abruptly, the hands disappeared.
“David?” I asked, hopeful it wasn't my imagination as I tried to turn around, but I could barely control my speech, much less my body.
I felt his warm palm cupping the back of my neck. Then he was in front of me, squatting down next to me.
“Yeah, sweet girl. I'm right here.” He looked at me for a long moment, studying me, then turned to Sam.
“What the fuck did you give her?” David demanded, his voice dark and threatening.
“Chill, it's just some Xany's,” Sam replied, annoyed.
David didn't hesitate, wrapping his arms around me and standing me up. When my legs gave out, he scooped me up, tucking me into his chest.
I could tell he was furious from his voice and the rigid muscles holding me, but I was too tired to care.
David barely jostled me as he grabbed my purse.
Next thing I knew, he was putting me in the truck. I barely registered him buckling me in and lowering my seat back. I heard his door shut, then he said something, but it was getting harder and harder to hang on to consciousness.
Eventually, I gave up.
*****
I felt something stroking along my jaw. Then it moved up the side of my face, pushing into my hair. That something turned into several somethings, and I realized it was David's fingers weaving through my hair, cupping the side of my head in his large hand.
“Austin?” he rumbled in my ear. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
A low moaning sound left my throat as I tried to speak.
“Hey,” he whispered, sounding relieved. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
I tried. Then I tried again. But I couldn't keep them open.
“It's okay.” His deep rasp was soothing, comforting. “There's food in the fridge. You'll have to heat it up. There's not a warming drawer here. I have a game, but I'll be back in a few hours. Okay?”
“’Kay,” I murmured, my voice rough from disuse.
“I love you.” His tone was alarmingly fierce.
“I love you more,” I murmured, making another attempt at opening my eyes and failing.
He let out a harsh breath. Then he pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. After a long moment, those lips moved, trailing firmer kisses down to my jaw until his face was buried in my neck.
“I'll be back soon,” he murmured into my hair before pulling away. His heavy boots thudded against the floor, a floor that sounded nothing like ours. A moment later, he said something to someone, but I couldn't make out the words. It felt like an eternity before I heard a door in the distance open and shut. Then heavy bolts clicked into place.
It took a minute for my brain to put it together. I was not in my house. Then the events started slowly coming back to me. The party, David showing up, and the hum of jet engines.
I was in Arizona.
And after what happened at the party, I knew I wouldn't be going back to LA until David did. It was a good thing I had the week off.
That was my last thought before I slipped back into oblivion.
The first thing I noticed when I finally woke up, Chance was cuddled up to me, back to back. The second thing, I was bizarrely alert and feeling great. I didn't have a clue what they'd given me, but this wasn't the aftermath I would've expected.
Getting to my feet, I headed to the bathroom. It still smelled of David’s body soap; coconut oil, honey, and vanilla. A warm musky fragrance that combined with his natural scent created that cotton candy, ocean smell. I took my time, breathing it in, taking comfort in it.
As I went through my morning ritual, David’s whispered words started resurfacing, piece by piece.
He’d been sweet as hell.
I felt terrible.
I'd completely blown him off, for what? A stupid house party I was roofied at? Making him come chase me, take care of me because I wouldn't listen?
I was an idiot.
Noticing Chance staring at me, I shook it off. I would deal with it later.
“Hey, buddy.”
At my voice, his head jerked up, tail wagging.
"Let's see what Daddy left us to eat," I enticed him as I made my way to the kitchen.
Glancing at the clock on the microwave, I stilled. Four thirty. I had been out for roughly seventeen hours.
What the fuck did he give me?
Opening the fridge, I discovered David had understated when he said there was something for me to eat. The fridge was not only full of my favorite foods, there were take-out boxes from four different places.
Checking each container, I found a cannoli cheese situation, a margarita pizza, and a huge piece of dark chocolate cake with some sinful goodness drizzled all over it. And finally... Ice cream cupcakes.
My man was fucking awesome.
I placed the pizza in the microwave, letting it heat up while I fixed Chances food. As soon as the microwave dinged, I headed to see what was on TV.
Four hours later, I heard the bolts in the front door being unlocked. Then the door opened and David's large body was filling the doorway.
“Hey, sweet girl,” he growled through a growing grin.
I was off the couch and running to him before I realized what I was doing.
He didn't hesitate, holding his arms out, catching me just as I jumped up and wrapped my arms and legs around him. His hands caught my thighs, holding me effortlessly as our lips met with wild abandon. The kiss was reckless, desperate, and frantic, as if we hadn't seen each other for weeks.
He carried me to the bedroom as our lips continued to seek the other’s out. He kicked the bedroom door shut, and then my back met the bed as his body pressed down on me.
His large hands slid up my sides, then he paused, pulling back enough to ask, “How do you feel?”
“Really good, actually.” My fingers twisted in his hair. “I felt really refreshed when I woke up.”
A low hum left his throat and his hand moved up the side of my neck, his thumb grazing my lower lip.
"That's because it was Xanax," he murmured.
“Really? I've never taken it before.”
“Good. And you're not gonna start.” His voice was gentle as eyes paced between mine, looking at me with an appreciation that made my heart flutter.
Once I recovered, I checked, “You didn't hit anyone, did you?”
He blew out a harsh breath and grumbled, “No.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No,” he answered soberly. "Look, Xanax or something similar is really common at these house parties, especially if you don't drink alcohol. And I should've told you that sooner."
I didn't want to tell him that I knew that. Out of the five Hollywood house parties I had attended, I had been slipped something at four of them. Although, I had never been given Xanax before. But because I didn't drink, I was able to tell what was going on and leave before I was knocked out. I had naïvely thought, since I worked with these people for two weeks, it would be different.
“Promise me, no house parties without me.”
“I promise.”
He studied my face as his fingers traced along my cheekbone and jaw. “You're in a really good mood.”
“I am. I have the sexiest husband on the planet and he takes such good care of me. Why wouldn't I be in a good mood?”
"Mmm," the soft rumble poured out of him, warming my insides. “You save me any dessert?”
“All of it.”
A deep “hmmm” vibrated from him as he stood and picked me up. “Let's go get it. I'm hungry.”
His eyes and his tone let me know it wasn't the dessert he was hungry for.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
“Do you have anything special you want for your birthday?” David's deep voice broke the long silence.
He’d woken me up in his usual way, breakfast in bed. We’d been sitting in peaceful silence watching TV while cuddled up and drinking coffee.
“Honestly,” I responded thoughtfully, “the only thing I want is to spend the day with you.”
A satisfied rumble vibrated through his chest as his arm tightened around me, pulling me closer.
“I wanted to throw you a big party,” he explained, sounding disappointed. “But got a game the night before, the night of, and the following afternoon.”
“No. No big parties for me. Not for a while anyway. After that impromptu bachelorette party and Friday night... Let's just keep our guest list to us for a while.”
He made a sound that was part apology, part annoyance.
“I'm sorry,” he murmured, his lips and nose ghosting over my hairline. “If I hadn't been such an asshole all week, you would've listened to me. It's my fault.”
“Everything that happens to me is not your fault,” I argued. “That night was—”
“My fault,” he finished. “You are my responsibility. And don't fucking argue with me about it.”
“Fine.” Then mumbled, “But you're wrong.”
“Stop it,” he grumbled, but I could hear a tiny bit of amusement in his voice.
Cuddling deeper into his side, I sipped my coffee, letting it go. We’d never agree on that point.
“Can I go to your game today?” I asked, hopeful.
“Mmm.” He considered it.
After my first game and the negative fan response, he wasn’t too thrilled to have me back out there.
“Please, I want to see you break a bat, baby,” I pleaded.
He chuckled. “Only if Fergus is with you at all times,” he conceded.
“Of course.”
David had to leave for the stadium several hours before us for practice, so Fergus and I hung around the house. David had arranged a deep tissue massage therapist to come over to fill my time and help relieve me of the residual tension from the chaotic and stressful previous two weeks.
And it worked. I felt like I would melt into the table. After a long, hot, indulgent shower I started getting ready.
I kept it simple—too relaxed to dress up and not wanting to draw attention to myself—opting for black leggings, David’s faded Metallica tee, and tennis shoes. I loved the way his tee’s fit me, hitting just below my butt, and they were so old and worn. The fabric was buttery soft, draping over my curves perfectly. They made me look bigger, but I was hoping the leggings would counteract that.
I grabbed my oversized gray Balenciaga purse, made sure Chance had everything he needed, and then we headed out.
When we arrived at the stadium, David had tickets waiting for us. We made it to our seats at first base without incident. No fans’ taunting comments, no one seemed to notice me at all. And I was grateful.
“Austin, I need to use the facilities,” Fergus mentioned not too long after David had come over to say hi. He actually said, “I love the fuck outta your ass,” but same thing. Kinda.
Confused by what facilities he was referring too, I responded, “Okay?”
“You need to come with me,” he said, as if it was obvious. “Wait for me.”
“What?” Then I finally understood. “You mean the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
I laughed incredulously. “Not happening. There is no way I’m hanging outside a men’s restroom.”
“Austin—”
“Fergus, that’s gross, for one. Two... just ewww... and no, I’m not. But can you grab me a water on the way back?” At his annoyed expression, I added, “I’ll be fine. There’s hardly anyone sitting over here.” And there wasn’t. I had a feeling it was an area they reserved for the players’ family. “Please.”
I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting outside a men’s bathroom like a child. And the smells that might emanate from there... No way.
As I watched him, I realized he really had to go. Like emergency had to go. “Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to anyone.” He stood abruptly and left.
I scanned the field, realizing something had happened. David wasn’t where he’d been only seconds before. I finally spotted him in the dugout. I watched him take his hat off, fanning himself a little before putting it back on. In my opinion, that was the only reason to come to these games, to watch David move around. I could watch him all day, and did frequently.
“Hey, that's my seat,” a man's voice startled me from my David appreciation. His tone was rude and condescending. And he was drunk as fuck in his head-to-toe Dodger apparel.
It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, I knew there was no way in hell I was sitting next to a drunk asshole. And why the hell did he need to sit next to me when there were plenty of empty seats?
“Really? Where's your ticket?” I challenged, my natural reaction to aggressive men kicking in. I was already calculating what was nearby to aid in injuring him. I quickly settled on the railing behind him. It was low, and if I could hit him in the right spot, with enough force, he would end up with a concussion.
“Move your bougie bag, bitch,” he slurred.
My anger flared as he loomed above me. My eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched as my heart rate sped up, adrenaline pounding through me.
“Touch my bag and you'll be on your ass.” My voice was level, but cold as I stood, my anger taking over.
I wanted to hurt him.
That's how I always felt toward aggressive men. And out in the open, there was no panic, just years of suppressed rage boiling up.
He stepped forward, getting in my face. His beer breath was nauseating, making my stomach turn.
“You uppity, white bitch.”
White bitch?
The asshole was pretty fucking white himself.
White trash.
“You would say that, you ignorant piece of shit.”
He shoved me, and we both stumbled back. When I recovered, I pushed him with everything I had.
And I hated touching people.
His chest was soft under my hands, the feeling so foreign I almost recoiled from the contact. But his ass met the ground. That seemed to have sobered him up some, because he stood up surprisingly fast. His face red and splotchy, his drunk glare was pure hate as he advanced. I was distantly aware of the crowd growing louder. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw David hopping the rail, taking the stairs two at a time in a dead sprint. I had no idea David could move that fast.
Next thing I knew, David’s broad back was in front of me. Taylor in big white print, the number twenty-three larger-than-life so close up.
My fingers itched to tuck into the back of his pants, but I resisted.
David bumped into the drunk fan, using his body to push him away from me. David said something, but his voice was too low for me to hear.
“Oh, come on, I haven’t even hit her yet,” the drunk guy taunted David.
Then David’s hand was around the fan’s throat, squeezing or holding him, I couldn't tell.
Part of me wanted to stop David. Another part of me felt a deep satisfaction from the damage David could inflict, while another part of me was jealous of it.
I wanted to be able to hurt the drunk asshole as effortlessly as David could. I wanted that strength, that physical power over anyone who threatened me.
“You stick your dick in that fat bitch’s ass?” he egged David on.
David swung.
Everything was a blur after that.
Fergus and several more Dodgers uniforms swarmed us, breaking them apart. It felt like an eternity, but it must've only been seconds, judging by the crowd’s startled reaction and recovery.
My chest pounded, my fear for David overshadowing any need for vengeance. The thought of him getting into trouble because of me was gut-wrenching.
“Get off me,” David snarled at the men restraining him. “Get the fuck off me.” He thrashed hard once, shaking them off, then turned to me. “Are you okay?” His hands gusted over my neck and shoulders.
“Yeah.” My voice was breathless. “I'm fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, suddenly realizing my issues had gotten us into this, the same ones I needed to overcome for the auditions. “I'm so sorry.”
He ducked down, eye level with me, his hands on my shoulders, conveying his seriousness through his touch. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I should've controlled myself—my mouth.”
“You can say whatever you want,” he insisted. “No one has the right to touch you like that. That drunk asshole was gonna fight a girl.”
When he put it that way...
“Get her outta here,” he muttered, still looking at me. “Take her back to the house.”
Fergus appeared next to me, holding my purse and water.
“Hey.” David’s soft voice pulled my attention back to him. “I love you. I’ll see you in a little bit.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Stay right by Fergus, okay?”
I gave a small, jerky nod, taking Fergus’ job more seriously than before.
When David finally turned away. I noticed several of his teammates were still surrounding us, as well as the drunk guy.
As Fergus led me away, he leaned in close and muttered, “You need to file a report before that guy tries to sue David.”
As his words sank in, I could feel the color draining from my face as my stomach dropped. I’d been so caught up in my anger, it never occurred to me it was intentional, baiting David into assault.
“Let’s do it now.”
“Come on.” He grabbed my arm, keeping me right next to him.
****
When Wednesday morning dawned, David and I were both ready to go home. David hadn’t allowed me to attend any more games since the incident on Sunday, so I’d filled my time with massages, facials, a mani pedi, and hanging out with Chance.
Fergus had been right; the guy had filed a law suit against David first thing Monday. Fortunately, Fergus and I had followed through with filing assault charges against him, and Fergus had found three videos of the incident, proving my claim that David had not randomly attacked the man. The league wasn’t penalizing him, but still. And the fan response had been mixed. Some saw a knight in shining armor, others saw a bully, while others saw a trouble-making wife.
Despite all that, David and I had done our best to ignore everyone else and make the most of the time we had together, whether working out, watching TV, breakfast in bed, or just having kinkier sex.
I’d also been having daily phone sessions with Dr. Vaughn, David sat through a couple of them with me. He wanted to help me any way he could.
He was a fucking angel as far as I was concerned. My tall, dark, sexy angel, always watching over me.
“Do you like it?” David asked, referring to his attempt at making Blueberry French toast. The past few days, he’d been cooking different breakfast foods, trying to switch it up a bit.
I nodded. “It’s awesome.”
We were sitting in the living room, cuddled up on the couch, watching TV. Fergus was sitting on the opposite side, wearing sweats and a tee. Fergus had become much more relaxed the past few days. I couldn’t be sure, and I wasn’t about to ask, but I had a feeling David had been the cause of Fergus’ cold demeanor toward me. It felt like we were friends again.
“Good,” David rasped softly behind my ear.
“I like it too, in case you’re interested,” Fergus added.
“I’m not,” David deadpanned.
“Well, I’m going to tell you all about it,” Fergus retorted. “They’re fluffy and—”
Fucking hot ass angel that cooks.
David gave me teasing side-eyed look and a mischievous smirk. “Did you just call me angel?”
Oh shit.
“Well, it’s better than safety net,” I admitted, realizing they were one in the same—as far as I was concerned.
He laughed, “Yeah.” But the intensity in his eyes... It meant something to him.
Safety net, angel, it was a lot of responsibility to put on someone, responsibility he wanted. Craved.
“Angel, are you listening?” Fergus goaded. “I’m critiquing—”
All three of our phones chimed, alerting us to a text.
Elaine: Have you seen this?
7:39 AM
Clicking on the link, I saw a crudely edited video of David attacking the guy, making it appear to be completely unprovoked.
Apparently, at least one gossip site was spinning the confrontation at the game into me flaunting an affair in front of David.
“Call Alec,” David muttered, gruffly. “Tell him, we’ll be home at eight, and to pick you up at our house tonight at nine. He's taking you to the Château. We’re taking control of this shit.”
*****
The next morning as we ate breakfast out on the patio of our penthouse suite above Sunset Boulevard, I looked over, noticing what David was reading on his phone.
It was a gossip site. I couldn’t help but smirk. The media had taken the bait, just like David and Alec said.
“Alec and Austin James” was the headline over a photo of me and Alec entering the Chateau the night before.
The caption underneath read:
“She never changed her name and she already has Alec's. Looks like you're out David.”
David grumbled, “Motherfuckers.”
“David, this was your idea,” I reminded him.
When David told me to call Alec and make arrangements, I did. And an hour before Alec picked me up, Fergus had dropped David and Chance off in Chateau Marmont’s garage, allowing them to enter unnoticed. David and I spent the night in the penthouse, while Alec hooked up with an unnamed boy toy in another suite.
I was sure, with how easy it’d been and how perfectly it worked, that would become our go-to. Because the Chateau was the only place we could be sure we’d have absolute privacy—aside from staying home.
“I fucking know. I can still be pissed.”
I tried to muffle my laughter.
“Yeah, it's really funny. Everyone thinks you're fucking him and me.”
“Ohhh. Now, that's a thought.” I pretended to seriously consider it.
“Don't you dare,” he warned sullenly. “Don't even think it.”
I couldn't hide my smirk as I looked at him. My gaze slowly raked down his bare chest and back up, teasing him, as I crawled in his lap.
“Alec in front, you behind me...”
“Stop it,” he demanded.
A laugh finally bubbled up out of me as I buried my face in his chest.
*****
Monday morning we arrived on set at seven a.m. And just like David had promised, there was a chef already making omelets for the crew.
Today we were shooting the first sex scene between Alec’s character and mine. David was sticking to his guns about standing in, which I was torn about. I was relieved it was David I'd be naked with, but the reality of it could really freak him out.
We got our breakfast and coffee and headed to the trailer.
“What's that?” David asked, pointing to the two thick white robes laying on the couch and the two small items next to them: “The Sock” and “The Patch.”
“It's for us to wear. The sock is for your dick. The patch is for me,” I explained in my sleep-rough voice.
“Seriously?” He picked up the two-by-four adhesive patch. “This is all that's covering your pussy?” When I nodded, he muttered, “Fucking bullshit.”
“We need to change before we eat.”
“Since when?”
David had been on set most mornings during filming the pilot, but filming the pilot had been a slower, more meticulous process, and we hadn’t been working around David's schedule.
“Since you have to be at the airport at one, we don't have any time to waste.”
“It's seven a.m.,” he said incredulously.
“Yeah, and the scene will probably take three hours to film.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
Following my lead, he set his breakfast down on the coffee table and proceeded to strip, then put on the oversized white fluffy robe. We'd deal with the other items later, before leaving the trailer.
We were only halfway through our breakfast when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I called out, knowing it was makeup.
“Good morning,” Kathleen, my makeup artist, greeted in a singsong voice as she entered.
“Good morning,” David's deep voice filled the room, while I offered her a sleepy smile.
“I'm so jealous of you two. So beautiful... flawless skin,” she said, looking over our faces. “Let's just do eyelashes on you, Austin, and a little powder for both of you, don't want you shiny. I'll be back in twenty...? They're ready.”
I nodded.
She turned, heading back out.
“Hurry up and eat.” At his questioning look, I explained, “Soon as she's done, we're going straight to set.”
“Fuck,” he breathed. It seemed he wasn't as ready for this morning as he thought.
Almost exactly thirty minutes later, we were stepping on set; a taupe bedroom with an oversized velvet tufted headboard in ivory, a huge ornate mirror against one wall, floor-length white curtains along another, complete with a crystal chandelier.
“Okay, guys, ready?” Danny asked.
Danny Hayes was our new director, replacing Sam.
I wasn't sure how that firing went, and truthfully, I didn't want to know.
Danny was perfect for our show. He was a child actor turned director and as close to a family guy as you'd find in Hollywood—under the age of fifty. And he genuinely nice.
“Yeah,” I breathed, feeling nervous.
“Clear the stage. Everyone out except camera and boom,” Danny called loudly.
“You okay?” David whispered.
My anxiety dropped significantly at his soft, concerned words.
I nodded, afraid my voice would give me away.
I wasn't just nervous about the crew being around, I was nervous David had overestimated his ability to deal with what we were about to do.
“Austin, go ahead and get on the bed,” Danny directed. “On top of the sheets.”
Untying my robe, I paused as my eyes met David's.
Please let him be okay with this.
His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as I slowly slipped my robe off. Something in his expression shifted, anger turning into sheer determination, and he dropped his robe.
Then he was on me, pressing up against me, covering my body with his, pushing me back onto the bed.
My bare back and ass met the cool sheets as David's warm body pressed me down.
“This is not the first time we fucked.” His voice was quiet and rough, his breath warming my cheek.
“Kinda sorta. This scene is at a house party, instead of the club. Everything else is pretty much the same.”
“Shit, we need to add this to our fucket list.”
I grinned at that, all my tension melting away. “Fucking in Jeff's guest bathroom wasn't close enough?”
“Mmm...” He pretended to really consider it. “No.”
“Okay, you two,” Danny interrupted. “This needs to be sweet, but aggressive. Now, David put your hand on her breast.”
David did, playing along while pulling a face that said, This is stupid.
“Austin, grab his ass. And David start moving your hips.”
I undulated under him slightly, rolling my hips against him.
“David move your hand up to her neck and keep your face away from the camera.”
David stopped moving and looked over his shoulder. “Dan, can we just do the scene—with sound? If you're not happy with it, give us notes after. Just back off and let us do this.” David's tone was casual, but confident. Quietly demanding.
I held my breath, waiting for Danny's response.
“All right, let's see what you got,” he obliged, good-naturedly. Danny obvious didn’t think David had a clue what he was doing.
David wasn't a professionally trained actor, but the man could fuck. He was born to fuck.
David was about to make a fool out of Danny.
****
Later that night, I got a taste of what was soon to become our normal—David not being home. And I didn't like it. At all.
I was curled up in bed at one a.m., clutching my phone. David had texted me on and off throughout the night, and I had stupidly turned on the game. Seeing him there, so far away from me...
My thighs rubbed together. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had fucked me on set earlier in the day. The way he filled out his uniform, the way he moved...
I was soaking wet.
I nearly dropped my phone when it finally rang.
“Hey,” I breathed.
“You waited up,” he purred.
“Did you change your mind about the sex tape?” I asked, shifting around under the covers.
My attempt at sexy texts had failed spectacularly when I asked for a sex tape, I had yet to get things back on track.
“No, Austin! What if it got out?”
It was the same thing he’d texted me earlier.
“No one would see it. It'd be just for us. Something to get me off when you're gone, because I get horny and you're not around to fix it.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groaned after a moment. “You’re that horny?”
“Well, I'm used to getting your cock every day, and now I'm not.”
“You did get it today,” he argued.
“I just need a video so I can see your muscles shifting and moving and working above me. And hear the sounds you make while you fuck me. Watch your cock slide in and out of me, all wet with my cum.” I moaned, just talking about it had me on the brink of orgasm.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart. You're makin' me hard.”
“How hard?” My voice was barely a whisper as my hand moved down my stomach.
“Like fucking steel.” His voice dropped an octave, to the sexiest rumble.
“Are you touching it?” My hand moved down, just grazing my mound.
“No,” he breathed.
“Touch it.”
“Fuck,” he rasped softly. “I'm touching it.”
“Is it hot?”
“I have pants on.”
“Take it out.” My voice betrayed my frustration. I’d been wound tight all night, I didn’t want to play games.
“Sweet girl, are you trying to have phone sex with me?” he purred.
Jesus, what did he think I’d been doing all night?
“Yeah.” His answering grown was raw and erotic, making my pussy clench.
There we go...
“Is that okay?” I inquired softly when he said nothing.
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Then take it out. I want to hear you.”
“What're you wearing?”
“Nothing.”
“Where are you?”
“In our bed.”
A deep, throaty grown rumbled through the speaker before he commanded, “Spread your legs. Wide.”
I obeyed without hesitation.
“You want me to touch my pussy?” I asked, hopeful.
“No, just your clit.”
Doing as he said, a low groan bubbled up out of me as the first sparks of pleasure shot through me. “Oh fuck,” I breathed..
“Does it feel good?”
“Yeah,” I panted, working my clit. “But not as good as when you do it.”
“Yeah, everything feels better when you do it, when it's your hands on me, your mouth, your wet cunt or your tight ass.” His voice was husky, his words intense, giving me the distinct feeling he’d been fucking with me, damn near making me beg.
“Oh God, I can't believe I actually miss you fucking me in the ass.”
“Next time I see you, I'll fuck you in the ass so good, sweetheart. So fucking good,” he promised.
At his dirty words my body arched and I came. It was short and shallow, a weak imitation of what he gave me.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Three days. It only took three days for my insecurities to take over.
The night before, I had been excited to see David when I boarded the plane. Embarrassingly excited in fact. But at some point during the two hour flight I fell asleep.
I can’t be sure what happened after that, because he never bothered to wake me. All I knew was what David had told me. He hadn’t even tried to have sex with me. He just held me. I knew most girls would think it was sweet, romantic, blah, blah, blah. But I didn’t. I was offended; we hadn’t had sex in two days.
After a long day of obsessing over the new development, I decided to investigate. As soon as we arrived home from the set, I snuck off to my room, pulling up David’s game, watching him. And I mean watching him. Every shot he was in, I zoomed in, watching him.
At one point he was on his phone. Texting, emailing? I couldn't be sure. But I was sure he wasn’t texting or emailing me. That little detail, along with the loss of his overbearing behavior, the lack of sex, his screaming fans, the girls crying when he reached out giving them high fives, and posing for pictures while groupies kissed his cheek...
It was the first time I saw The David.
And I hated him.
I tried to play it cool when he finally called, but I failed.
“You want me to believe you suddenly have no sex drive?” I demanded, a little too harshly. I focused on the night before, unwilling to admit I’d been stalking him.
“Seriously?” He sounded genuinely perplexed. “I was hard the whole night. You were out cold, I was happy just having you in my arms. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
It wasn’t hard to believe. It just hurt that he hadn’t been all over me, out of his mind with wanting me. I knew it was ridiculous, but it hurt even more after seeing the way he interacted with his fans.
Instead of telling him the gut-wrenching truth, I accused, “What are your plans tonight?”
I had been imagining it all evening: David out with his teammates, getting sucked off by random groupies.
“Stop it.” His voice was gentle, but firm. “I'm not doing anything but lying here alone, wishing you were here.”
“How do I know?” I shot back. “You could have a girl lying next to you right now. You could've told her to be quiet while you called your wife.”
“Now, that's fucked up. Don't put that shit in my head... Fucking great, I'm visualizing you doing the exact same thing.”
We both fell quiet for a moment. I quickly regretted giving in to the instinct. But the seed had been planted, and I couldn't stop visualizing all the what-if’s.
“This is not working,” I muttered, dejectedly.
“It really fucking isn't,” he gritted slowly.
My racing heart went still, frozen in my chest. I swore never to bring it up again, fearful the result would be losing him.
What the hell was wrong with me that I couldn’t let him have his career in peace?
*****
We continued on like that for five weeks; phone sex, FaceTime fucking, and I miss you’s all with an underlying suspicion. We maintained our forty-eight-hour rule. But even when I managed to stay awake, his games ran late and I was asleep by the time he arrived at the hotel. Our best nights were the ones were he fucked me while I was sleeping.
Even when he was home, he usually spent the entire day at the stadium; practice then the game. We got to sleep together and wake up together, but it wasn’t the same. My best days were when we filmed a sex scene, and those were few and far between.
Some days I wanted to call David and beg him to come home. Beg him to quit. Some days I was too busy to feel anything, those were the good days. But other days, I wanted to hurt him. Hurt him for making me miss him. Hurt him for being The David.
Pacing around the bedroom, I glared at my phone sitting on the nightstand.
It was one of the other days.
Maybe it was because the previous night we’d broken our forty-eight-hour rule. Not because I didn’t drag my ass all the way to Florida, but because his game ran so long I had to leave for the airport before he made it to the hotel.
It wasn’t his fault, I knew that, but I was still pissed.
Next thing I knew, my phone was in my hands as my thumbs pounded out a text, hitting send without a second thought.
Austin: I want to cheat on you. I want
to do it in public, in front of paps. I want
you to see it, to know.
8:02 PM
My phone rang seconds later.
My heart raced as I accepted the call. I held the phone to my ear, but I said nothing, my throat too tight.
“Austin?” David’s voice was calm and strong, reassuring.
Something inside me uncoiled; I’d expected anger.
When I didn’t respond, he continued, “Austin, don’t do it. Well... you can if you want to, I’m not there to stop you.” He paused. “Hell, it might make you feel better for a little bit. But how will you feel after? When you have to tell me everything in explicit detail?”
He was being so reasonable and understanding, I didn’t know how to react. But I knew I wouldn't be able to do what he was asking.
“That’s what I’ll want, every detail. I’m not leaving you and I’m not gonna let you leave. If you really need to do this, it’ll be a scar on our relationship. But we’ll get through it.” He paused. “But how will you feel?”
I couldn't imagine how I’d feel, I felt terrible just listening to him talk about it.
At my continued silence, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I think we have enough scars.”
He was right, we did. More than enough.
Before I could say anything, he added, “Thank you. For telling me how you feel. It feels good to know.”
I hesitated. “Know what?”
“That my wife misses me so much, she’s hurting. Hurting so much she’s feeling destructive.”
Shit.
He was right, I was falling into old patterns.
“Sweetheart, if all you really wanted to do was hurt me... that text was pretty effective.”
I could hear it in his voice, I had hurt him. I felt a dull ache in my chest. Hurting him, hurt me.
My eyes stung and my sinuses burned. “I have to go.”
Ending the call, I slumped down on the bed, staring at my phone, stunned. He was so calm, so accepting of me cheating on him, as if he had planned for it. Expected it.
What the fuck did that mean?
David
“Where is she?” I demanded, my voice louder than intended.
As soon as the line disconnected, I dialed Fergus. Austin didn’t know me if she thought I was really going sit by and let her decide whether or not she wanted to cheat on me.
“In her room, why?”
“Don’t let anyone come over. And don’t let her leave,” I directed as I packed my bag.
“Okay. Something I should know?”
I could tell from his voice—the acoustics in the room—he was sitting in my living room watching TV. That was the shit that got under my skin, niggling at me twenty-four/seven. He was living my life. In my house. With my wife. And I was paying him to.
“She’s wants to hurt me.” That’s all I had to say, Fergus understood. “If she comes to you...”
“I would never. And I don’t think she would.”
“She’s like a completely different person when she’s hurting,” I muttered.
“I know.”
He did know, because of me, Fergus had seen Austin upset more than he’d seen her happy.
I was a shit husband.
“Has the plan for tomorrow changed?” he inquired.
Fuck.
My surprise for Austin was fucked to hell. I was going to be in Denver in a few hours. The plan was for Austin to board the plane thinking she was going to Texas—she never checked my game schedule—only to be met by her mother at the airport. Then we would all spend the weekend at Evelyn's house together, except for my games.
It was better than nothing.
I had hoped spending time together, like we had over Thanksgiving, would get Austin focused on me again, on us.
“No, but it’s not going to be a surprise now.”
“I can force her—”
“No,” I jumped in a little too quickly. My pulse quickened at the thought of anyone forcing her to do anything. “Just let me try to talk to her. I’ll call you later.”
I ended the call and dialed Austin. It went to voicemail. Seconds later I received a text.
Austin: I’m busy.
8:15 PM
Was she kidding?
David: You know I can track your phone.
You’re at home.
8:17 PM
Austin: Never said I wasn’t, said I was busy.
8:20 PM
Looked like she recovered from our talk and was right back in angry bitch mode. I loved angry bitch mode, when I was there, on the receiving end of it; it always turned into some seriously hot sex. But over the phone, where I had no control over the outcome, no.
David: What are you doing?
8:21 PM
Austin: Debating on going out for girls night.
8:24 PM
Tara hadn’t texted her, so either Austin was debating calling her or she was lying. Regardless, it was a clear sign Austin still wanted to hurt me.
Should’ve known after the shit she pulled last night.
Yeah, my game ran late. Like crazy ass fucking late. But all Austin had to do was delay her flight for two hours. Two fucking hours. And we could have spent at least an hour together, but she had refused. Refused to shorten that two hour window she gave herself to get from the airport to work. It was her show, she couldn’t be late or rearrange the shooting schedule for one day?
She chose her career over me.
It felt like I was losing her.
And that, I want to cheat on you text... I tried to be reasonable, hoping to get her to calm down and think. Consider the consequences. Obviously, that hadn’t worked very well.
No more reasonable bullshit, just go with the truth.
David: You really think I’m gonna let that
happen? Really think I’m gonna let you
cheat on me? Your ass isn’t going anywhere.
Why do you think Fergus is there?
8:26 PM
Austin: Fuck off.
8:27 PM
There was a flutter in my chest as a smug grin took over my face. No angry caps or punctuation; her defiance was waning.
Fuck, it felt good that she responded to my aggression even through texts.
David: You’re angry because you miss me.
Hurt because you love me. Cranky because
I didn’t fuck you last night. Me too. Let’s
both stay mad so we can fuck fight it out.
In Denver. All weekend. At your mom’s house.
Hit me while you ride my dick. Come all
over me when I call you a bitch.
8:29 PM
My phone rang seconds later.
Austin
It didn’t seem real; how was this my life. A private jet? Who owns a private jet? It was a none too subtle reminder I didn’t fully grasp the reality of my life with David.
Yes, David gave me a jet for my birthday. It was ridiculous. The day itself had been uneventful—as far as birthday’s go. But he had approached it with a whimsical boyish charm; a thick Belgian waffle cover in whipped cream with a big pink candle in the middle. And his excited whisper, make a wish. It was childish. Adorable. And sweet as hell. It was hands down my best birthday ever.
I would give anything to go back there, back before he was traveling.
Goddamn, I missed him. It was killing me. The constant emotional roller coaster I lived on was driving me insane. I was lashing out rather than tell him the truth. But the truth was too selfish to admit.
His possessive, demanding, dirty texts the night before had been sweet relief, it was what I’d been craving for weeks.
“Do you have everything you need?” Fergus asked, settling in the seat across from me. It was a little late to ask that question. We were already on the plane.
“No, can you run to the store real quick?” I deadpanned.
“No.” He was trying to act annoyed, but failing miserably. The amusement in his eyes and the smirk on his face gave him away.
I was thankful for the break from my turbulent thoughts—grateful for a reset. I just wanted to enjoy our weekend.
David had arrived at my mother's house earlier in the day. No telling what they'd been up to, but that was where he wanted to stay—at Mom's.
It was perfect for me, because Mom would no doubt take care of Chance while I spent real time with David. I needed it.
I craved him.
Emotionally, physically... I was addicted. I just wanted to be happy. And so far, being with David was the only way that ever happened. A man emerged from the cockpit. “Mrs. Taylor, I'm Dennis. I'll be your pilot today,” he said eloquently.
Dennis was a bit of a silver fox with an expressive face.
“Hi, Dennis.”
“You have a beautiful aircraft here. As soon as you're ready, I'll be more than happy to get us on our way.”
“We're ready,” I said, the excitement obvious in my voice. I hadn't seen David in three and a half days.
While Dennis secured the hatch, I got comfortable, as did Fergus and Chance.
Unable to help myself, I texted David.
Austin: The jet is amazing! Hope you saved
some of your energy.
4:35 PM
Then I attached a pic I'd taken a couple of hours before, me fresh out of the shower making the most of my curves in a sexy, full-frontal pose.
We'd had sort of a competition going on all day, who could send the hottest pics. The first one was after our phone sex session the night before. His chest and abs glistening with spatters of his cum.