Chapter 23
Corey
W arm lips trail my jaw, down my neck, to my chest. My hand is wrapped tightly around a ponytail, and I bite my lip. Expert fingers deftly undo the button on my jeans and a slender hand sneaks in to stroke my cock—
“What the fuck, Corey!”
Sabrina’s shrill voice snaps me out of my zone. Opening my eyes, I look at where she kneels before me, and I have to suppress the urge to shudder .
“Cut!” Mark’s voice calls from behind the camera set up opposite the room. At his call, a few production assistants scatter onto the set. A few attend to me and Sabrina, while the others adjust things about the room that don’t even need adjusting. One of the PAs slips a robe over Sabrina’s naked body, but she doesn’t pull it closed to cover herself.
Sabrina is glaring at me when Mark makes his way over to us. She doesn’t rise from her knees as she looks at him and says, “He’s fucking soft. I can’t work with this, Mark.”
I lean back on my elbows and fight the urge to lie down and cover my face with my hands. Being soft on set, for a scene like this, is humiliating. Even more so, given the fact that I popped a pill an hour earlier.
Mark gives me a questioning look, and before he can even open his mouth to ask, I grumble, “Yeah, I did.”
“Ha!” Sabrina goes to stand, placing her hand over my dick and pressing down hard for leverage.
“Goddammit, Rina!”
“That was uncalled for,” Mark says, rubbing her arm in a show of reassurance. “Why don’t we all take fifteen and come back to this? I’ll talk to him.” He’s speaking to Sabrina as if I’m not here, which is incredibly annoying.
Sabrina, robe still wide open, her lithe body and fake, perky tits fully on display, hisses, “You know you’re a washed up asshole when even the little blue pill can’t help you.”
She stalks off the set, and I lean back, like I wanted to do in the first place. I put my hands over my face and lie down.
I’m not sure how I made it through shooting the scenes today, but I managed. The entire set is beginning to suffer from the tension between me and Sabrina. Being under the scrutiny of a cast and crew who have come to look up to me, given my seniority and title on the film, has been stressful, to say the least.
This shit, what I do for a living, most of the time it’s fun. It’s fun to mess around, let loose, and embrace sexual expression. But this? With Sabrina? It’s fucking torture.
It didn’t help the scene we just finished required me to fuck her six ways from Sunday. Mouth, pussy, ass, tits—I had to fuck her every which way. The penultimate scene in the film, so the pressure for it to appear as authentic as possible was high.
Earlier, during one of the many breaks I had to take just to get through the fucking day, Bridget called to “check in.” That’s usually code for “shit’s hitting the fan and someone’s called to report your behavior.” The person in question being Mark.
“Corey, this is it. This is your last film. And it’s a big fucking investment, not just for the end of your career, but the future of Neon Nights Media,” Bridget had said.
“I’m aware,” I responded harshly.
“If the pills aren’t helping, why don’t you try asking your girlfriend for some pics?”
The blood drained from my face at the suggestion, and it took everything in me not to snap at the one person who is—usually—supportive and on my side. “Bridget,” I said, trying to even out my tone but failing miserably. “Do not ever, ever suggest that I jerk off to pictures of my girlfriend and then go fuck my ex.”
“Jesus Christ, Corey, I’m trying to help you here. And you’re not fucking your ex, you’re working with her. That’s what you do. That’s what you’ve done on every film before this one,” Bridget said, managing to keep her tone deliberate, but in check. “You have two more days left of this shoot. So, please, for the love of god, figure your shit out. You’re almost done.”
Bridget hung up after that, and it had taken everything in me not to throw my phone at the wall. She’s not wrong—this is my job. This is what I’ve done for twenty long fucking years. But suggesting I think of Bex and then… No. I couldn’t do that. I won’t do that, not to Bex.
The reality is the guilt of withholding information from Bex—all right, fucking lying to her—about my job and what’s happening with this movie, it’s slamming into me daily. There were so many opportunities to be honest with her, and I made excuses at each one. I deserve this feeling right now.
“Fuck,” I grumble, slamming the door shut on my Range Rover. I’m just glad it’s over. I’m home, and I cannot wait to video chat with Bex.
I take the world’s hottest and longest shower, scrubbing extra hard wherever Sabrina had her mouth. It’s not til I’m drying off that I notice a hickey—an actual fucking hickey—on my neck. I haven’t had one of those in years, especially since we established a strict “no marking” rule on the set of my films a long time ago.
Staring at myself in the mirror, it’s impossible to miss the mark on my neck. I have a feeling Rina did this intentionally, and fuck if I’m not seething with rage toward her right now.
My first thought is if I have any concealer in these bathroom drawers to cover it. My second thought beat the shit out of the first thought.
“You have to tell Bex tonight.”
I pour myself a glass of Maker’s on the rocks just as my phone buzzes, announcing Bex’s call. She seems to enjoy when I’m shirtless for these video calls, so I made sure to ditch the shirt, but keep the gray sweats.
My glass is halfway to my lips when I tap “accept,” but I freeze when her image clears up. Bex is… a mess. Her hair is in a messy bun, she’s wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants—far from the little shorts and tank she usually takes these calls in. But it’s her face that rocks me. Bex’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and there’s not a trace of a smile on her face.
She knows. I don’t know how, but she fucking knows.
“Bex—”
Bex holds up a hand, silencing me. She has every right to be upset and pissed. I’m not going into this conversation blazing with excuses. Absolutely nothing I can say will make this better right now, so I wait.
After a minute of silence, punctuated with sniffles and a few deep breaths from Bex, she finally says, “Why did you lie to me?”
Fuck , her voice is broken. She doesn’t even sound mad, just disappointed, and honestly, that’s worse than if she had just started screaming at me. I did this to her. I made her feel this way. I’m a fucking asshole. Rina was right.
“I…” I trail off, not even sure where to begin to make this right.
“Here, let me help you,” she says, sitting up straight and tilting her head. “You met me one random night, and we had a few drinks, some good conversation. We had fun. And then you went back to your life, and I went back to mine.”
“Bex— ”
“Let me finish.” There’s a sharpness to her tone, and I’m so happy to hear it—like maybe she’s more pissed than upset. Maybe we can work through this , I think, nodding. “But there’s something fun about hooking up with the fat girl, right? So you came back to play around, no strings attached.”
What the fuck? “Bex—” She starts to cut me off again, but I speak over her. “Stop, please. Wait a fucking minute. Please.”
The defiant expression on her face crumbles, and I recognize her front is falling. She is broken; she was just pretending not to be.
“I know I don’t deserve a chance to explain myself,” I begin. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “But… fuck, Bex. First of all, you’re not fat.” She opens her mouth to object, but it’s my turn to hold my hand up. “You’re not, so don’t try to play me like that. You’re sexy and curvy, and you’re the woman of my goddamn dreams.” I take a deep breath. This sure as fuck was not how I expected this conversation to go, but once I start, I find it difficult to keep the truth in. “We never defined ourselves, and part of that is my fault. I was having fun, and I thought you were, too.”
Bex shrugs. “I was.”
Past tense. Fuck. I swallow hard and continue. “When we met, I didn’t know what to expect. I never planned on… I can’t even tell you when it happened, but Bex, I’m fucking crazy about you.”
Her silence continues, so I say, “There are no excuses. I should have been up front about my work and why I’ve been so fucking crazy the last few weeks. But I wasn’t, and I’m a complete fucking asshole for not being honest with you.”
She takes a deep breath before she says, “You just let me believe you were done acting. Like I was a fucking idiot. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have the truth exposed, in front of my best friends, by Aaron, of all people?”
I almost cringe at the mention of my best friend. He never knew, so I don’t blame him for saying anything. And, on top of that, I never reached out to him after the hockey game to see what was going on with him. It feels like another punch to my gut, realizing how many people I’ve been letting down lately.
“Bex, baby, I’m so, so sorry. I should have told you. After a few weeks of knowing you, it was just… I was so happy having you in my life, and it was just easier not to—”
“Be honest with me.”
I sigh. “Yes. There’s nothing I can say or do to change what I’ve already said and done. Or what I haven’t said. Or done.” I wince as the words sound like a mess coming out of my mouth.
The corner of Bex’s mouth tilts, and I feel fluttering in my chest. “Smile, Bex. Please, smile. Laugh at me. Just don’t cry anymore. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
I prop my phone up on the coffee table and step back a few paces, then lower to my knees. “I’m on my knees for you, Bex. Always. Even when you can’t see me. I’m at your mercy.”
She bites her lip, and I stifle a groan.
“Tell me about Sabrina.”
It’s like an anvil drops in my stomach. I must visibly deflate because Bex says, “I just want to hear about this from you. By now, Ally and Britney have recited half the internet articles about the two of you… I just want to give you a chance—”
“Okay,” I say as I grab my phone and head to the couch. I settle back before saying, “For the record, she wasn’t even supposed to be a part of ‘Edgelord.’ It was a last-minute casting swap—”
“I don’t care about that,” Bex says, waving. “You still lied about the movie in the first place. Tell me about Sabrina.”
Fuck, I love her sass right now. I love how she’s clearly still upset, but she’s handing my ass to me. Like I deserve. “We first met on the set of a movie about ten years ago. She was starting out in her career and mine was elevating beyond ‘well-known’ status. Rina was just… she was so innocent and normal. I just wanted to help her get comfortable in her own skin and on the set.”
Bex’s brows raise. “Comfortable?”
I shrug. “We hooked up off set. A lot. And it became a habitual thing. Especially that first year, when she was in high demand for a rookie. We found each other on set more and more and then one day…” I reach for my drink and take a significant gulp. It burns on the way down, but it makes it easier to revisit the memories. “She suggested she move in with me, and I… I didn’t say no.”
Bex narrows her gaze at me. “You make it sound like you settled for her.”
“Baby, I did. I settled for her because it was easy. It was easy being with someone in the industry. It was easy working with her because we were sexually compat—”
Bex holds up her hand and I cut myself off. “I think I get the point,” she says, wincing.
“We were married for six years. We never defined ourselves either, because I just assumed we didn’t need to. I thought I was going to marry her at some point.” I down the rest of my drink and slam the glass down on the table harder than necessary. “One morning, when I was on location for another movie, she texted me and said we were done. No explanation, no opportunity to understand why. When I got home two days later, she was gone.”
“Oh, Corey,” Bex whispers. There are tears in her eyes again, this time for me.
“Don’t do that, Bex. Don’t cry for me. Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but that was years ago. I’m a different man than I was then.” I watch a few tears slip down her cheeks, and there’s an uncontrollable urge to get in my car and drive the five hours to Vegas, just so I can scoop her up in my arms and hold her. “I can’t imagine how you felt, not only learning about this stupid movie, but who was starring in it with me. It’s paramount that you understand, Bex… There is nothing between me and Rina. Absolutely fucking nothing.”
Bex nods through her tears. “I sort of figured, but I’m terrible at assuming things. Imagining feelings and emotions that aren’t there—”
“Shh, shh, shh.” I hold the phone closer to my face so she can see the truth in my eyes. “Part of why this week has been such a fucking mess is that I can’t…” I sigh, accepting that the brutal truth is necessary here. “I can’t even get hard enough to perform. I’ve been taking Viagra, and that shit is messing with my moods. Again, not trying to give you any excuses, but—”
“She doesn’t turn you on?” Bex glances toward her desk, where I can make out a fuzzy glow from her laptop screen. “She’s really pretty, Corey.”
“Don’t do that, Bex. Physically, she’s manufactured, and any of the beauty she may have had when we met is distorted to the point where she’s a goddamn stranger to me. That’s saying nothing about her cheap attitude. ”
Bex breathes a sigh, hopefully of relief. “You really are from a different world.”
“Bex, ‘Edgelord’ is my last movie.” I say it, out loud, for the first time, for her. And I mean every fucking word. She looks at me in disbelief. “Seriously. It’s one of the biggest adult films ever made, and my production company is behind it, and… it made sense for me to be in it, too. But I’ve been considering where my career is going, when it’s gone this far, for this long…”
“You’re incredibly successful, Corey. I don’t want you to like, retire or anything just because of me. Because of my insecurities,” Bex says quietly.
“The seed was planted in my mind long before I met you, Bex. And can I tell you a secret?”
Bex nods and whispers, “Yes, sir.”
Fuuuuuuck. When she says “sir” like that—fuck, whenever and however she says it—it’s like a jolt of arousal shoots down my spine, leaving my cock twitching with need.
“Even if I wasn’t already considering this being the end of my acting career… Meeting you changed me, Bex. I would walk away from the industry entirely, if that would make you feel comfortable with me. With us.”
Leaving the industry was honestly never a thought that crossed my mind, but as I say it to Bex right now and feel the spark of hope in my chest as her eyes brighten at the thought… maybe this is the right thing. The right thing for us both to move forward. Together.
“Are you… I mean, do you still want to come to the awards show with me next weekend? ”
“Corey, honestly? I don’t know.” The admission snuffs out the spark of hope, and I try not to look disappointed. “Just give me some time with this. Okay? It’s a lot.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“I’ll call you when I’m ready, okay?”
Before I can respond, she ends the call. I burrow back into the couch and allow myself a few minutes of wallowing before making my way back to the kitchen. I pour myself another glass of bourbon and tap out a message to Aaron.
I need to know what’s been going on with my friend, of course. But the real reason for my text tonight? I need help getting the girl.