The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

“I want to see you,” I tell her as I quickly flip us around and switch positions.

So lost in pleasure she either forgets or chooses to ignore that I have a full view of her scars as she settles on top of my body. Her body glows from the streetlamp shining through the window, its light the only illumination in the room basking it in a romantic radiance.

As she bounces up and down on my cock, I watch in rapt fascination as her breasts sway from side to side, her hair bouncing along with her motions, the long strands skimming the tops of my knees. She looks like a siren pulling me toward her with a sultry and hypnotic song.

Larsen is lost in ecstasy, and as she leans forward, I capture one of those supple breasts in my mouth, suckling on the sweetness while reaching up to hold her hips in place. I jackhammer my erection into her sex until I hear her scream in release, the cry echoing through the entire room, vibrating off the walls. That’s when I finally let go.

Spent, Larsen collapses on top of my body and I capture her weight in my arms.

“That was. . .” I begin and stare off into space for the words I’m searching for.

She can barely speak but she tries to finish my sentence. “Exactly what I wanted.” But I shake my head.

Rolling us to the side, I face Larsen and tuck away her sweat-covered hair behind her head.

“Perfect. It was perfect.”

CHAPTER EIGHT – LARSEN

Devyn’s fingers have been trailing up and down my arm for the last half-hour, following my scars as if they’re a treasure map and he’s determined to find the prize. I’ve known the question was coming, and I could have covered myself up, silently ending any further conversation, but I’m not afraid to share my story with him. For the first time, I actually want someone else besides Uncle Jeff to know what I’ve endured.

Opening my mouth, I beat him to the punch as his hand settles on my mangled hip. “I was trapped in a car after a collision. The tangled metal of the car had pierced my skin all over. Slicing me like a knife.” His hand tightens on my body, gripping the place where my hipbone settles under the skin. But his eyes are torn away from my body and are solely focused on my face.

“I was in the car with my mom. After my dad died, she was determined that she was going to make it as a showgirl in Vegas. At least I think that’s what she told me. We stopped in a few towns and Mom had met some people, my guess is they were looking for someone to pass drugs over state lines. She took the money and drugs and told me we were taking a scenic route to our next stop.

“As we were passing through Pueblo, Colorado, our car got T-boned on my side. Mom got out without a scratch, but because of the drugs in the trunk, I needed to hold two moving boxes on my lap. I wore a seatbelt, but I had no way to escape.

“I’m not sure how long I was in the car before I started to smell gasoline, and then in the blink of an eye the car was engulfed in flames. I was lucky that the fire department arrived quickly, but at that point, most of the right side of my body had third-degree burns running from top to bottom.

“I don’t need to go into detail about all of the surgeries I underwent, but those doctors and nurses saved my life. When I came to, I asked for my mother and one of the volunteers had the lucky draw to tell me that my mom couldn’t be located, but that they were still looking. I already knew that she wasn’t coming back for me.

“I had already lost my dad, but that day I lost my mom and my freedom. I was in the hospital for months as I healed. When I was discharged, I had nowhere to go and at sixteen, I was considered old enough to go out on my own.

“But Susan found me that day in the hospital and she and Uncle Jeff took me in. Fate brought her to me. The whole town took me in. I’d be lost without them. They dropped everything to take me to therapy every day until I was able to do it on my own.”

I tell him the sordid details without looking away. I anticipate the shock, the disgust, but not the pride. Not the respect that shines back at me. Silently he bends forward and kisses me. It’s nothing like our kisses from earlier, it’s a kiss of gratitude.

It doesn’t last long, just a few brushes of his lips and tongue. Pulling away, his attention goes back to the creases and folds of my skin. He gently runs his hands over the puckers with a look of awe.

“Do they hurt?”

“Some are extremely painful due to the scar tissue. With others, I have no feeling whatsoever.”

His hand pauses just above the deepest scars along my upper thigh. “Does it hurt for me to do this?”

Shaking my head, I tell him, “No, I love your touch.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I don’t need to hide from you,” I say sincerely.

Devyn continues his journey to the tips of my feet and I hate to tell him that I have minimal feeling left on the tips of my toes as he tries to tickle me. Giving up, he grabs the blanket at the edge of the bed and drapes it over our bodies as he settles next to me again.

“That first night together when we sat on that little stairwell you asked me what I was running from,” he whispers, his hoarse voice cascading over my body. I nod in recognition. “It isn’t so much of a what, as it is a who.

“See, I was emancipated from my parents as a teenager when they continued to overschedule me on projects and then fired my manager without my consent. I was an overworked kid with no end in sight. Later my uncle learned that they had stolen almost every cent I had made.

“I remember my uncle, aunt, and Tessa had traveled all the way to LA to confront my parents. We were living in a huge mansion that my work was paying for and my uncle had had it. See, he knew that they had no jobs; they were living off all of the money I was earning. I must have been ten or eleven, but I can remember the shouting and screaming. My uncle and aunt fought with everything they had to get control over my finances.