I’ve been in her room before, but never like this. Never with the intent to touch her, kiss her. I’ve never had impure thoughts about her either, and now they're running rampant through my mind. I walk into her room, my steps quieted by the plush carpet. My heart beats faster the closer I get to her bed. If she knows I’m here, she’s not calling me out. My knees brush the side of her bed, but she doesn’t stop moving her legs up and down. I want to reach out and make them stop, but I can’t.
I reach out and run my fingers down her back. Her legs still and she pushes aside her magazine. I don’t know what I’m doing, but this feels right. When I get to the hem of her shirt, I pull it up, showing more of her back. Her dark-as-night blue panties grab my attention. She scoots over on the bed, giving me space to sit next to her. Taking her cue, I kneel down and move her shirt up more. She moves away, sitting up on her knees. Her arms cross, her hands picking up her shirt and pulling it over her head.
Her breasts are bare. I don’t know where to look. My eyes travel from her eyes to her breasts and back. I want to touch her and think she wants me to as well, but what if she doesn’t? I had to lead up to this before and now everything is happening so fast and in the back of my mind I remind myself that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I want to touch her. Her eyes close when my fingers graze her nipple. It hardens against my fingertips. I touch the other one. She leans back, breaking our connection. I crawl over the top of her, touching her again. She opens her eyes when I settle in between her legs. Her smile is breathtaking, she wants this… me. Her fingertips travel up and down my back, pulling me closer. Our mouths are inches apart. Our foreheads rest against each other, lips touching lightly. She pushes on my ass, creating friction. I can’t hold back. I kiss her hard, not waiting for her to meet me halfway. My arm shakes from holding myself up. I’m afraid I weigh too much. My fingers roll over her nipple as she pushes me into her again. Her back arches as I kiss down her neck. I’ve been so afraid I wouldn’t know what to do, but my body knows. It knows how to make her feel good.
Taking her nipple in my mouth, I bite down lightly. Her hand flies to my hair and pulls, which feels good. I add more pressure and move my hips more, alleviating the pressure that’s building. She moans and I like it. I like knowing that I’m causing these reactions. She rolls us over, shocking me. I didn’t realize she was this strong. She straddles me, her mouth moving over my chest. She bites down on my nipple and now I know what it felt like and why she liked it so much. She moves down, kissing her way toward my hard-on. I reach out and grab her arm. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with her doing that. She sits up and grinds, adding pressure to my groin. I sit up, hell-bent on moving her, but she pushes harder and rocks, creating much needed friction.
“I want to do this with you,” she whispers against my lips as she moves a bit faster. The soft sounds coming from her make me believe she’s getting pleasure, too.
I can’t speak, only nod. I want this. I want to experience this with her. She jumps off of me and walks over to her dresser. She comes back with a condom in her hand. I swallow hard over what I’m about to do. She hands it to me and slides off her panties. I try not to look, but I can’t help it. I follow her lead and push off my boxers, my erection springing free. I try to push it down, but to no avail. If she thinks it’s funny, she doesn’t laugh. She climbs back on top of me, kissing me all over as she works her body over mine. Her hand slides into mine, taking the condom from me.
She’s done this before, but I’m trying not to think about that as she opens the package and slides the latex rubber on me. The sensation alone is going to make me cum and I know that would be embarrassing. My body tenses when she centers herself over me. I don?
??t think it’s supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to be underneath me.
“Relax, let me show you.” She picks up each of my hands and places them on her hips. I push her down lightly, feeling myself enter her. Her eyes close, but I watch. The sensation of being in her rocks my core. I feel the need to scream or something. I don’t know. My hands grip her hips and move her up and down. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t.
Dylan moans and moves up and down faster, causing an intense buildup in my stomach. I grunt hard as my body releases. She falls forward, kissing my chest and rocking against me slowly.
“Happy Birthday, Ryan,” she says against my skin.
I wrap my arms around her and worry that I didn’t satisfy her and I don’t like that fear. “Can we do that again? I think I’m supposed to last longer and maybe touch you.”
“Says who?” she asks, laughing.
I shrug. “I read it in a magazine.”
“Yeah, we can do it again.” She looks at me when she says this, the glint in her eyes says so much more than words. I have a feeling I’m about to learn a lot from her.
CHAPTER 38
Hadley
I think I have a problem.
Sure, I paint a happy smile on my face each time I step out of my hotel room and loop my arm into Cole’s. I pose whenever there is a camera around. I feed him ice cream when fans are lurking. I do everything I’m asked.
But it’s getting to be too much and Cole agrees.
After the incident – that’s what we’re calling it – we’re certain that Ian set me up. The problem is we can’t prove it. We’ve tried. Alex has a lot of contacts and she even tried to find out who tipped off the photographers about Ryan, but none of them are budging. I can’t believe they like Ian that much to sell me out.
I told my parents. At first they didn’t believe me, but when my mom bought the magazine and read the article she finally relented that maybe her brother is a bit off his rocker. She suggested Cole and I quit the tour, but she doesn’t understand what that would do to both of us. Neither of us is willing to forgo the tour and upset the fans just to stick it to Ian. My dad on the other hand, is looking for a new manager and was quite shocked to find out that Cole didn’t have one.
Getting rid of Ian will be hard, but will be better for me… I think. I know he does his job, but it’s the way he manipulates me to get what he wants. First with the staff he hires and now with the media. He’s supposed to protect me, not feed me as live bait to the sharks.
The tour is almost over. This makes me happy and sad. Each night, I’m looking. Looking for any sign that Ryan is in the audience or out front trying to buy tickets. I don a disguise and walk around the concourse pretending I’m a concertgoer so I can mingle with the crowd in the hope that he’s out there. Each night I come up empty. I stay awake long after everyone has gone to bed and text him, but I never receive a response. His phone rings and rings, never being answered by the one voice I so desperately want to hear. I know I screwed up, but I thought he knew I’d call him on his birthday.
No, he didn’t know. I gave him no indication that I would. I shut off our lifeline like a selfish bitch in order to protect myself and started a very public relationship with my ex. He’d know about that, I’m sure. Dylan would show him. She would make sure of it. She didn’t like me with Ryan because she wanted him for herself and I handed him to her on a silver platter. I have no doubt he knows about Cole and me and there isn’t anything I can do about it because he doesn’t answer his phone or return my texts. If he’d just return one, I’d go to where he was and get him and bring him here with me. We can live in my apartment and not have to worry about what people say.
I’m going to look for him when the tour is over. I’ll go back to Brookfield and start there, maybe hire a private investigator. I can’t believe he ran away. I know he talked about leaving, but I thought he’d wait until he graduates. A diploma can mean so much more when looking for a job.
The sun is up when I finally retire. He’s not going to answer or return my text. I crawl into bed and close my eyes. Life should be so much easier, but it’s not. My door opens slightly. I turn and find Cole standing in my doorway. He walks in and sits on my bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Can’t sleep,” he says as he slides down the bed, resting his head on the extra pillow. I roll onto my side and face him.
I’m tired of pretending and he must be, too. He’s been so good, though. He’s the devoted boyfriend, always holding my hand, tucking my hair behind my ear at the right moment. He never complains that behind closed doors our relationship is platonic. He’s been without a partner for months now, just to help me. He’s really the best, most perfect fake boyfriend any girl could ask for.