Chapter 12 #2
Her words hit deeper than they should have. Because she was right. I’d spent years perfecting my control. I didn’t get distracted. I didn’t get flustered. But tonight, one look at her, and everything I thought I was good at fell apart.
I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the tension build between my shoulders. “You think I don’t know that?” I said. “You think I wanted to lose control in front of everyone? You think I liked watching you sit there, pretending not to look at me while I was pretending not to care that you were?”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything.
“You want honesty? Fine. I couldn’t get hard until I looked at you. That’s what happened.”
She froze, her expression hardening. “Don’t.”
“It’s the truth, and you fucking know it.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You have to.”
Her voice rose now. “No, I don’t. I don’t have to listen to this. I’m not part of your problems. I’m not part of your world, Callan. I’m not doing this anymore.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not!”
Her shoulders were trembling, and she held her notebook so hard against her chest that the cover bent. “I’m changing my topic. I’ll write about something else. I’ll make something up if I have to. I shouldn’t have said yes to this. It was a mistake.”
Before I could stop myself, I moved toward her. I caught her wrist with my hand and grounded her in place. “You’re not changing your topic,” I said. “You’ll write about this. About me. About what we do here.”
Her brows furrowed, confused and furious all at once as she tried to pull her arm away. “Why? So you can use me as your new toy to get off?”
“No. Because that’s not what your essay is supposed to be about. You said it yourself. You want to write about the production side of my world. So do that.”
“I can’t,” she bit out.
“Why not?”
“Because!” She finally pulled her hand from mine, but I reached for it again and took another step toward her, pushing her against the wall behind her. Her notebook and pen fell to the ground with a thud.
“Tell me why you don’t want to continue this, Lana. Come on, give me one good reason.”
Her breathing became faster, with her chest rising and falling, while her eyes stayed on mine. Her head was tilted back, and her body was tense.
“No? Can’t give me a reason?” My face was close to hers. “Then I will give you one.”
I guided her hand down, making her cup my cock. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened before a hint of excitement flashed through them. My voice dropped low. “I need you in there. Feel this? I’m hard because of you, and you didn’t even have to touch me to make this happen.”
Her fingers twitched like she wanted to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, I made her squeeze me, pressing her fingers around my hardness. That felt fucking nice. Better than anyone’s mouth around it.
“No other woman has made me this hard in the past week,” I said quietly. “Not Madison. Not Kira. None of the girls.”
Her eyes lowered to my chest, and she swallowed hard as my words sank in.
“Callan,” she whispered, pleading now.
“Look at me.” I kept my voice low and squeezed her hand again. I couldn’t help it, but her touch was what kept me sane. And I hated using her for this, but I knew in the end we’d both benefit from it. As selfish as it sounded, I needed her to just give in to me.
Her eyes were back on mine. They were filled with raw emotions that told me all I needed to know. She was enjoying this, but she’d never admit to it. That was fine with me.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, or how, but I need you in there.”
“I distracted you,” she managed to croak out. This time, it was her moving her hand on her own. Her palm pressed against my cock, and her fingers curled around it.
“You didn’t distract me,” I murmured, pushing my hips forward. “I refused to acknowledge that your presence would help me through that scene.”
“You had two girls sucking your cock,” she said. This time, her voice was steadier.
“Yeah, and I wished it was your mouth around my cock.” I lifted my hand from hers and wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her against me tighter while she kept her hand on me.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered.
“It’s the truth. And you know it because you’re not oblivious or na?ve. You want honesty, right? That’s what this is. I can fake a lot of things on camera, but not that. You were the reason I couldn’t finish. You’re also the reason I’ll be able to, next time.”
She shook her head, but it wasn’t convincing. Her pulse jumped at the base of her throat, and her hand stayed exactly where I wanted it. “This isn’t right.”
“No?” I chuckled and moved one hand to her ass, squeezing it tight while I cupped the back of her head with the other. “But it feels right. You’re curious. And I can tell not just by your hand still on my cock. You came here to write about this world. You wanted the truth, the real side of it—”
“About production,” she interrupted, her face tight.
“So write about that. Don’t turn away now just because it feels uncomfortable.”
Her eyes flicked over my shoulder and lingered there before looking at me again. “You think it will be easy for me? Knowing that you’ll only be able to fuck and come in those girls because I’m in the room with you? It’s sick, Callan, and I don’t want to be part of this game.”
She wiggled free from my arms and gave my chest a hard shove to put some distance between us. “I don’t want to be like some object you lust over.”
“You’re not an object, and you know it.”
“But it feels like I am!”
I shook my head, trying to find better words. “Answer me one thing, Lana. Touching me…did that feel right to you?”
She was ready to shoot a harsh “no” at me, but she swallowed it as her jaw tightened. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and her fingers nervously picked at the hem of her shirt.
“Answer me, Lana. Did it feel right?”
She nodded slowly but squeezed her eyes shut as she shook her head instead. “It’s wrong, Callan.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because—” She let out a heavy sigh and threw her hands into the air. “You were married to my mother, and you’re way older.”
“Don’t give me that,” I said with a dry laugh.
“I’m not wrong,” she shot back. “I can’t do this.”
I watched her pick up her notebook, and without another glance in my direction, she started to head upstairs.
“Lana.”
She stopped on the second step but didn’t turn around.
“I never meant for this to happen,” I said. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t want it.”
She glanced over her shoulder, face torn. “Then stop,” she said flatly. “You can stop this. You’re the one in control, remember?”
“I’m not,” I said, and the honesty in my voice surprised even me. “I lost that the second you walked into that room.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not my problem.”
“It is now. Because you’re part of this. You wanted to understand my world—this is it. And, to be honest, I think that’s what you should really be writing about.”
She turned halfway toward me. “You want me to write about your dysfunction?”
That made me laugh. The girl had some humor. “I want you to write the truth,” I said. “Not what looks good on paper, not just about the boring production process. The truth.”
She looked away, staring at the stairs like she could disappear into them if she tried hard enough. “You’re asking too much,” she whispered.
“I’m asking you to finish what you started,” I replied. “You’re already in it, Lana. Be brave.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, finally, she exhaled and turned back to face me fully. “Fine,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I’ll finish it.”
I nodded once. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She gave a tight, humorless smile. “No. It’s not. You’re asking me to stay close enough for you to use me as fuel.”
I didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But you can’t deny you’re curious. Even when you shouldn’t be. You want to understand what makes people cross the line. You want to understand the art of porn. That’s why you’re still standing here.”
She stared at me, lips pressed tight, and eyes widening at the realization of how right I was. “You’re exhausting.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
She shook her head, her expression softening just enough for me to see the conflict underneath. “I’ll write,” she said again, quieter this time. “But after that, I’m done.”
I didn’t push. “All right.”
She turned and walked the rest of the way upstairs. The sound of her door closing echoed faintly, and I stood there for a moment with many different things rushing through my head.
I told myself I’d convinced her because I cared about her work.
But the truth was simpler.
I couldn’t stand the thought of her walking away from me.