A shiver works its way through me, and my greedy pussy pulses with renewed need. Twisting onto my side, I press my body against his so we are skin to skin and perfectly aligned. “I think I’m addicted to sex with you.” Grabbing his ass, I thrust my pussy against his semi-hard cock. Either that or the ticking clock leading to our impending separation is looming large, demanding I take everything I can before he has to leave.
“Ditto, babe.” He fondles my breasts, softly tweaking my nipples, and they are so hard they could cut glass. “Hold that thought,” he adds, grabbing his jeans off the floor. He removes his vibrating cell, flashing me the screen. It’s my mom. “Hey, Lauren.” Reeve puts her on speaker. “Were you looking for us?”
“I don’t want to think about why it took you so long to answer your phone,” Mom replies. “Do we need to have the safe-sex conversation again?”
“Mom!” I screech. “You have lectured us enough, and we’re always safe.”
“As much as I adore children, I’m not ready to be a grandmother yet.”
I slap my palm against my forehead. “Mom, seriously?”
Her laughter trickles down the line. “I’m calling to invite you both to dinner. Can you be here in a half hour?”
Although we are neighbors, all houses in North Beverly Park are built on at least two to three acres of land, so it still takes ten minutes to walk between our houses. Considering we are both currently naked and smelling of sex, thirty minutes to shower, redress and get home is cutting it close unless we drive.
I frown, stretching out on the mattress and stifling a yawn as I consider legitimate excuses that Mom will buy. We usually eat takeout in bed while watching movies on Friday nights unless there’s a party. I can’t remember the last time we ate dinner with my folks on a weekend night, and I’m really not in the mood to get out of this bed.
“We sure can,” Reeve says, as I prepare to open my mouth and decline her invitation.
“Great, we’ll see you then,” Mom says before hanging up.
“Ugh.” I snuggle into the pillow, pulling the sheets around me. “Why did you have to say yes? I was planning on giving you celebratory sex all night long.”
Reeve rolls his eyes. “Now she tells me.” He yanks me up onto his lap. “You can make good on your promise after dinner.”
I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. “Deal.”
* * *
“Congratulations!” Mom squeals, enveloping Reeve in a big hug. “I’m so happy for you, honey.” Her long black hair is loose, tumbling in lush thick waves down her back.
Tears stab my eyes as I take in the lavishly decorated dining room. I don’t know how Mom pulled it off so fast, but there are balloons, streamers, banners, and a giant cake that looks like it would feed forty people, not four. Dad pours Cristal Champagne into flutes, and I help him to hand them out. “Don’t get used to it, princess,” he warns, as I take a sip of the delicious bubbly amber-colored liquid. “Only because this is a special occasion.”
“Chill, old man,” I tease. “It’s not like I haven’t been drinking champagne at movie premieres since I was fourteen.”
My parents are one of Hollywood’s golden couples, and attending industry events was the norm for Reeve and me growing up. Mom has won several Oscar nominations and awards for her acting, and Dad’s trophy collection isn’t too shabby either. Last year, he took home the Golden Globeandthe Oscar for best director. What’s even more noteworthy is the fact they are happily married and they genuinely adore one another. They manage to have successful careers and a successful relationship, and that’s not an easy feat in Hollywood.
They are my idols, and I look up to them in so many ways.
“That had better be a joke, young lady,” Mom says, finally letting Reeve go. Her vibrant green eyes pin me in place, and I know she’s semi-serious.
It’s not a joke though. Those events can get crazy, and Reeve and I always found a way to sneak some champagne. As we’ve gotten older, my parents have let us drink on special occasions, but it’s strictly one glass. I’m sure they know we drink when we’re out with our friends, but they don’t hassle us about it too much.
My dad squeezes Reeve on the shoulder as he offers his congratulations. I give Mom a quick hug. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Has he even called him?” she whispers.
I shake my head, and she sighs. “Felicia would be so disappointed in Simon,” she adds, careful to keep her voice down so Reeve doesn’t overhear. “This is a big milestone in Reeve’s life, and his father should be here.”
“He should, but I can’t say I’m surprised. He always lets him down.”
I hate Simon Lancaster.
I really do.
Even when he is around, he’s absent. He’s cold and selfish, and Reeve is usually an afterthought to him. Simon is a few years older than my mom but a few years younger than my dad, and he’s still a very handsome man. As head of Studio 27, one of Hollywood’s most reputable production studios, Simon Lancaster is a busy man and a desirable catch. If he’s not burning the midnight oil, he’s bumping uglies with his latest fuck buddy. I haven’t mentioned it to Mom—as I’m fearful she would stop me from staying over at Reeve’s—but we have regularly run into naked women roaming the house at all hours.
It disgusts me and upsets Reeve, and anyone who upsets my love is an automatic addition to my shit list.