The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

“Oh, well, I need to buy a ticket. I only got the one way here. I guess Quinn was hoping that I’d stay.”

“Why can’t you? Stay, I mean.”

The excitement of her staying with me the next week in Chicago and then traveling back to LA, having her in my home, is like taking a shot of liquid excitement. It burns and leaves me wanting more.

“I can’t. My classes start again soon, the diner, store, and auto shop all need me, and we both know that I don’t belong here.”

“You could. . .belong here with me. We can find a way.”

Her mind drifts off as she stares at our hands and I crave to know what’s going on in her head.

“So, what time is the game?” She shuts me down, changing the subject of us trying to figure things out.

I reach into my pocket and grab my phone, opening the reminder Tessa sent this morning. “Two hours, so we probably want to get ready.”

I let her slip away; each step she takes from me feels like another tether broken between us. She steps into the bathroom, and without a backward glance, she peels away her clothing, leaving her backside open for my viewing.

Like a beautiful seductress Larsen peers over her shoulder at me, her lids heavy, cheeks a dusky pink. “Want to join me?” This brazen side of her is not one I’ve been able to witness before, but it’s as intoxicating as her innocent side.

I’ve had to get dressed in a hurry, but I’ve never shed my clothing at this record speed. Opening the drawer in the nightstand, I praise the heavens for the complimentary protection and rush into the bathroom, lifting Larsen into my arms in my haste, and depositing us both into the shower.

I’m not wasting one more minute of my time with her.

We stand in the spray of cold water until it turns into a steamy heat, the warmth feeling like prickles along my chilled skin.

Larsen slips around me and settles her head under the spray, her head tilted back and eyes closed as she soaks her hair. An overwhelming urge to take care of her washes over me faster than the water sleuthing down our bodies.

“Here let me.” I hold open my palm with the dollop of shampoo I poured from the provided bottle. He

r eyes widen in surprise then she turns around giving me access to her mass of wet strands. I don’t miss the subtle smile on her lips before she turns.

I massage her scalp as I lather her hair, doing the same with the conditioner after rinsing it clean. We take turns under the spray, my own hands pouring shampoo onto my head.

Switching positions again, I place her back under the spray and bend forward to capture her pale pink nipple in my mouth, remembering how sweet her skin had tasted before. The flavor hasn’t changed but seems to be stronger.

“Devyn,” she moans, my name echoing in the shower stall sounding like a musical interlude to my ears. Thoughts of what could potentially happen control my mind causing my cock to stand at full attention. Larsen’s tentative hand reaches down and grips the base of my erection, her slender fingers stroking the hardness.

“Fuck,” I hiss as her thumb rubs over a sensitive part just on the underside of my head.

“I want to feel you, Devyn.” I swear that is what I hear Larsen say, but I’m so delirious from her touch that I’m burning inside.

Flipping our position like the sides of a quarter, I lay a punishing kiss on her lips before I turn her again to face the wall of the shower. My hands stroke down her hips as I position myself between her spread legs. My cock slides between her folds and the sensation is crushing.

Something inside me registers, breaks me free from my trance, and I remember the condom I brought into the shower. Tearing the wrapper apart without a care, I slide the latex on my shaft, align our bodies again, and slide home.

“Yes,” we cry out in unison.

My body jerks back and forth, no effort in my movements this time. My motions are possessed by my uncontrollable desire for her.

Her palms attempt to grip the wet tile, slipping in the process, and I have to reach my arm around her waist to keep her languid body from crashing against the hard surface. My other arm lifts one of her legs onto the ledge, repositioning our bodies. Her arm raises and wraps around my neck.

The thrusts quicken and Larsen’s back arches against me just as my release spills into the condom.

“I . . .wow.”

“Yeah,” I reply. My cock only softens slightly, the shaft still hard and ready, but I know that time is running short. “We should probably clean up, again.”

“I can’t move.”