Within minutes, I gritted my teeth to keep quiet and started to come in his mouth. The orgasm rolled through me in waves. My hands clenched in his hair, and I bucked and threw my head back. A sound almost like a sob slipped from me as my body shuddered and gave everything it had, and when it finally ebbed I was a shaking, disoriented mess.
Harper zipped me up again, and then he held me in his arms and talked to me soothingly while he dotted kisses on my forehead and cheek. Meanwhile, I curled into him and held on while I tried to catch my breath. Finally, I sat up and mumbled, “Rehearsal. You’ll be late.”
“It’s okay. I’ve spent the past several years successfully lowering everyone’s expectations of me, so no one will be surprised if I’m late. They’ll just say ‘typical Harper’ and that’ll be that.”
I managed, “You need to go. I’ll come watch as soon as I can.”
“Okay. Take your time.” He kissed my forehead, then got up and grinned as he adjusted the bulge in his jeans. After he straightened his light blue button-down shirt and quickly ran his fingers through his short hair, he asked, “Do I look okay?”
“You’re perfect.” He smiled at me and left the dressing room.
A moment later, my phone beeped. My hand was shaking a little as I took it from my pocket and read the message from Noah, who was letting me know rehearsal had started and the producer was asking where Harper was. I sent back a quick message before tucking myself into the corner of the couch. Besides still being dazed from that massive orgasm, I was also having a hard time processing what had just happened.
One thing was clear—I’d lost control of pretty much everything, including my relationship with Harper, my libido, and my life in general. That was unsettling, because I was all about control. Surprisingly though, it was also exhilarating.
I couldn’t wait to see if he followed through with his suggestion of fucking me in this dressing room, or in the prop closet. I also couldn’t wait for the part that came after, where he took care of me and acted like I was the most important person in his world.
At some point, I’d obviously made a decision, and I finally acknowledged it and made my peace with it. I was going to enjoy everything Harper Royce was willing and able to give me—every kiss, every fuck, every touch, every moment.
I never did this. I never just let myself indulge, but I was going to this time. I’d accept everything he was willing to give me, and in return I’d give him all of me. I was going to do that knowing for a fact this was a temporary situation, and knowing I was going to be crushed when it ended.
And it absolutely would end. In a day or two, or maybe a week, Harper would get bored and move on. He wasn’t the type to settle down, especially with someone like me. Noah had been right when he said celebrities gravitated to their own kind.
There were a lot of reasons for that, including the fact that they obviously had a lot in common with their peers, but it also amplified their fame. Every star had a virtual spotlight on them, and when two stars got together, their spotlights combined and shone even brighter.
Sure, there were some exceptions to the rule. But those examples were few and far between, and I wasn’t deluded enough to think Harper and I might have a shot at a future together.
I sighed and heaved myself off the couch. My legs still felt weak, but I’d promised Harper I’d watch the rehearsal, and I was going to make good on that. I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge and drank half of it, then grabbed a second one for him and left the dressing room.
The hall was empty, since everyone had shifted to the studio. When I reached my destination, I flashed the visitor pass that hung around my neck, then slipped into the seats that would be filled by the studio audience during taping.
A director and choreographer were guiding a group of celebrities through the musical number that would open the show. It was a special tribute to Tommy Allen on his fortieth anniversary, and the performers represented several generations of Hollywood royalty. The choreography was pretty basic. It really just instructed the actors on when to make their entrance, which direction to cross the stage, and where to hit their mark. Large monitors fed them their lines, and a few of them also held the two-page script.
I had to hand it to the director. She managed to stroke all those huge egos while somehow getting them to do what she wanted. That definitely wasn’t easy, since a lot of stars liked to offer input on their performance, which was a nice way of saying they always thought they knew best about everything and wanted to do things their way.