20. Ben
20
Ben
T he light caress of Carlisle's fingers roving down my chest to the drawstring of my pajama pants sends a tingle down my spine. My abdominal muscles clench in a potent shot of desire that I feel down to my balls. My hand cups her breasts, first one then the other, squeezing and pinching her rosebud nipples before I bend to taste them.
“Oh, Ben,” she pants, her chest heaving as I suck and flick her nipples with my tongue. “That feels so good.”
Biting playfully, I soothe the pain with gentle kisses along her chest, enjoying the sounds she makes.
Swiveling, I push her backwards further into the room until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. Scooting toward the pillows, her shameless gaze calls to me, beckoning me to follow her onto the bed, but I don’t want to hurry this. I want to take it slowly and enjoy every single fucking second of familiarizing myself with her body.
Kneeling at the end of the bed, I kiss my way up her legs, starting at her ankles and lazily winding my way up towards her inner thighs. Over her thong, I rub her center with my knuckles, feeling her dampness seeping through the silky material.
“You’re fucking dripping for me already, Carlisle.” Lowering my head to her wet heat, I slide her underwear to the side and spread her lips with my thumbs. Lapping her with my tongue, swirling and sucking her clit, she writhes under the attention of my mouth, moaning softly. “Fuck, you taste like ambrosia.”
Slipping her legs over my shoulders, she bucks as she tries to escape the pressure of her impending orgasm. Her breathing becomes shallow, and she twines her fingers into my hair, tugging forcefully as her pleasure grows. She rocks against my mouth, grinding into my face. Focusing my attention on her sensitive bundle of nerves, I lick and suck before inserting two fingers into her drenched core.
Pumping in and out, I curl my fingers upwards, hitting her g-spot and I feel her inner walls clenching tighter and tighter. Her back arches off the bed, her body rigid with tension until she spirals from the powerful release. She buries her head into a pillow to muffle her cries as her orgasm rips through her. She flops back, her body spineless.
I pull back, gently releasing her legs and she whimpers at the loss of my mouth, my tongue, and my fingers. As she slowly opens her eyes, I lift my fingers to her mouth and press on her bottom lip. “I want you to know how good you taste.” She sucks my fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them. I close my eyes at the sensation, imagining her velvety mouth on me. My dick is rock hard and throbbing at the thought. Through my pajama pants, I fist my cock, pumping twice from head to shaft, unable to ignore it any longer.
Needing to see her naked, I peel her silky underwear down her legs. The sexy confidence that she exudes as she lies spread out before me is the biggest turn on.
“You’re so damn gorgeous, Carlisle.”
Swiftly, I shed my pants and crawl up the bed, settling my body over hers as I kiss her with reckless abandon. Shifting my weight onto an elbow, I move a hand to caress her breasts. Her nipples pucker under my touch and Carlisle lets out a strangled sigh as I move my mouth to them.
“I need you, Ben. Inside me. Now,” she begs breathlessly. Carlisle murmurs, “I have condoms in the bathroom in my pink toiletry bag.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” I respond, jumping from the bed and hustling into the adjacent bathroom. Digging quickly through her bag, I grab a condom and then roll it on.
Lowering myself onto her body once again, I revel in the skin-on-skin contact. Nipping at her neck, I feel her pulse jumping. Carlisle’s arms cinch around my waist and my ass, holding me in place. My erection presses against the apex of her thighs, and she shifts under me, opening herself up to me.
I stroke my cock through her wetness before slipping inside of her inch by agonizing inch until I’m fully seated inside her. She’s so warm and tight that I might blow my load before I even start moving.
Rolling over, I push her on top of me, so that I can watch her ride my dick. Carlisle tosses her head back, clawing at my chest as she sets a frantic pace. I roll my hips upward, thrusting into her deeply.
Watching her breasts sway is mesmerizing, but I need to feel them. As I knead and pinch her nipples, she flutters around my dick, and I hold my breath to stave off my explosion. Sliding a hand between our conjoined bodies, I rub circles over her slippery clit with my thumb.
Her whispered moans increase in volume and frequency, and I feel another orgasm building as her walls pulsate and tighten like a vise around my dick before she shatters atop me. It only takes two more thrusts before black dots dance across my vision as my own orgasm roars through me .
Sweaty and spent, she collapses on me. Neither of us move for a couple of minutes as our breathing and heart rates slowly return to normal. I push her hair off her face and kiss her temple.
Eventually, I hop up, shuffling into the bathroom to discard the condom and grab a washcloth. Gently, I clean her before returning once more to the bathroom to toss the washcloth into the laundry hamper.
As I crawl back into the bed, she snuggles into my side, laying her head against my chest. I feel content and satiated.
We lie together peacefully for a long time before Carlisle says anything. “How was it seeing Cole this week? Y’all haven’t seen each other much since everything blew up with Kelsey, have you?”
“I was thinking about Cole earlier. I feel sorry for him, and I’m so relieved that Duke is Cole's son, not mine.”
“You’re not sad or jealous that he ended up with Kelsey?”
“No, not at all,” I respond immediately and emphatically to her question, wanting to reassure her, especially after the intimacy that we just shared.
I pull Carlisle even tighter into my chest, but she cranes her head to look up at me, hesitation skipping across her features. “I noticed that Kelsey disappeared while you were cleaning the kitchen. Did you guys talk?”
“She cornered me in the kitchen and came onto me. I shut her down.”
“Good.”
I chuckle remembering how it went down. “Though I inadvertently quoted Taylor Swift, so that may have taken some of the seriousness from my words.”
“No, you didn’t!” Shocked delight spreads across her face. “What’d you say? ”
“I told Kelsey that we were never, ever getting back together.” Carlisle’s tinkling laughter is music to my ears.
Through our talks, texts, dates, and more, Carlisle and I are allowing each other into our personal spaces, those private parts of our hearts and minds that we hide from the outside world. For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. The walls of defense that I carefully crafted to protect my heart after my break-up with Kelsey are slowly crumbling under Carlisle’s care.
Running my fingers through Carlisle’s wavy hair, I kiss her forehead and open my heart up to her even more. “My therapist once told me that the best way to heal a broken heart isn’t to shy away from love, but rather to let new love in. To allow it to flow freely, filling in the cracks and crevices created from your previous heartbreak. I never really believed her before, but now, as I lie here with you, I do.”
The next morning, I awaken entangled with a very sexy, very naked Carlisle, and I am fully intent on giving her a repeat performance of last night.
But then I notice my cell phone on the nightstand. It’s lit up like a Christmas tree with dozens of notifications, which is never a good sign.
My stomach drops as I read the text Becky sent, along with the accompanying link to a gossip website.
BECKY
Call me immediately. Photos from outside Le Bistro hit the tabloids. Studio 67 is not pleased with the situation. We need to discuss your options and get ahead of this.
Fuck!
I slip out of bed as stealthily as possible. I tug on my pajama pants and creep out of the guest room and return to my childhood bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.
Dialing my publicist, I lift the phone to my ear. Without preamble, I say, “Got your text from last night."
Although the sun hasn’t even risen yet in California, Becky is already awake and alert. “Ben, I don’t have good news for you. Photos of some drunk TV stars were published on a few gossip websites, and a fan noticed someone who looks like you in the background of the photos. And you appear to be kissing a random girl. Is that you and Carlisle in those photos, Ben?"
"It is," I admit sheepishly.
"Shit. At this point, all they have is pure conjecture, but the story is gaining steam.” Becky's voice is icy, laced with disapproval and disappointment. “As you know, perception is reality in Hollywood. If enough media outlets run the story, people will believe it.”
“Damnit,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. I thought I was being careful enough when I took Carlisle out for dinner.”
“This is terrible timing, Ben. Studio 67 is pissed.”
“I know, I know,” I grouse.
“Send me a couple of photos from Thanksgiving with you and your family, and I’ll quash the story. But there’s more, Ben.” Becky sighs. “Last night, Jada and I had an impromptu phone conference with the studio heads. They weren’t pleased that you didn’t agree to the showmance with Willa, but after these photos of you and Carlisle came out… they're furious now, Ben. The studio is already working to secure financing for a Captain Commander sequel, so they don't want you to do anything that could jeopardize the movie's success."
"I won't. I promise."
"They want more than that, Ben. They're convinced that the best way to boost ticket sales will be to go public with the PR relationship between you and Willa.”
Interrupting, I implore her, “Look, I’ll do whatever I need to do other than faking a relationship with Willa. I’ll do extra interviews, photographers can follow me around, whatever. But not that. Don’t make me do that, Becky.”
“You know that the studio’s publicity contracts are purposely vague, Ben. They don’t want to force you to do the fauxmance, but they absolutely will if push comes to shove.” She pauses. “And you don’t want to earn a reputation for being hard to work with or that you're not a team player. Not if you want to keep landing movie roles, like the one in Losing Love .”
The movie business is fickle, with every player vying for attention. My current tidal wave of success is one that I want to ride for as long as I can because I know that I could become irrelevant overnight. The studios know it too and routinely use that knowledge to their advantage.
"Let me guess. You're afraid that if I don't cave to Studio 67's demands, then they'll circulate rumors about me within the industry, and Lyonsfilms Studios may decide that I'm a liability and a risk," I surmise, my voice quiet and miserable at the prospect. "Too risky to land the role of Martin."
“That’s the gist of it, yes. Especially since there are other actors interested in playing Martin.” Becky exhales loudly.
"What does this mean for my relationship with Carlisle?"
“If you want to maintain your relationship with Carlisle, then it will have to continue behind closed doors, but I have to caution you about that. It’s dangerous.”
I pace the small bedroom as I contemplate the situation. Agreeing to a showmance with Willa the morning after having sex with Carlisle for the first time feels all kinds of wrong. It feels fucking smarmy.
“Shit. I don’t know what to do, Becky.”
“Ben, let me give you my professional opinion.” My publicist trails off for a moment before she continues. “You’ve known Carlisle for a few weeks, but you’ve been building your career for over a decade. Don’t risk your entire career for someone you’ve only just met. Cooperation with the studios is the best way forward, and you know that."
Becky’s giving me the hard sell, and I hate that I’m wavering in my conviction.
"If you don’t readily agree, Studio 67 will force you to do it anyway. The harder you make this, the greater the likelihood that your reputation will suffer. It’s pointless to fight the studio. It’s only six weeks and then you and Carlisle can openly be together in the new year after you’ve wrapped your publicity tours and landed the role in Losing Love .”
It isn’t what I want to hear, but I understand Becky’s point of view. Rationally, it makes sense even if it seems emotionally screwed up.
Fuck, I hate this .
I rake my fingers through my hair, pulling on the ends. The studio has me backed into a corner. I really don’t have a choice.
"Fine. I'll do it," I agree begrudgingly.
“It's the smart move, Ben. But remember, your name is your brand, and it’s only as good as your reputation. When your arranged relationship with Willa goes public, your reputation will tarnish, possibly irreparably, if any rumors come out about you being involved with another woman. Any insinuation that you’re cheating on Willa will damage your image, so you have to be really careful from here on out. No more public outings with Carlisle. I’ll email you the revised publicity contracts. Sign them and get them back to me ASAP.”
I am so close to landing my dream role. I just wish it wasn’t happening at the same time that I’m also working to land my dream girl.
Whatever the opposite of serendipity is, that’s what this feels like.