Porn Star by Laurelin Paige
and Sierra Simone
Release Date: March 8th
Release Date: March 8th
Excerpt:
I spin around and throw my phone as hard as I can into the pool.
It lands with a small splash, sinking like a brushed-aluminum
stone straight to the bottom. My momentary satisfaction is eclipsed by
immense regret, because I just got that phone a few weeks ago. Fuck it, I
can get a new one tomorrow. If that’s the price I have to pay to keep
myself separate from Raven, then so be it.
I take a few healthy chugs of the Laphroaig.
“I hope you’ve got a good warranty,” a cheerful voice says from
next to me. Even over the smoky scent of the whisky, I smell her.
Cinnamon and sunshine.
I inelegantly swallow the Scotch still in my mouth, turning to
face the person next to me. “Devi.”
She flashes me her sunny grin, and then returns the greeting by
playfully bumping her shoulder against my arm. Heat flares across my
bicep, emanating from the place where our bare skin touched, and the heat
slowly migrates towards my chest, independent of the blood now pumping to my
groin.
I am suddenly very aware of the fact that Devi and I have never
been alone. Strange, given that we’ve given each other
orgasms, but Raven’s Real Playdates was the only time we’ve
worked together, and there are so many people on a porn set that it’s
impossible to feel any sense of alone-ness, even when you’re
staring them in the eyes while they suck you off. And even though we’ve seen
each other at parties and events since then, we’ve only ever said hi or how
are you or where’s the drinks? Not exactly the basis
for a deep understanding of one another.
So I should probably explain why I just chucked a brand new
phone into the water, and also maybe not reveal the fact that I have a massive
crush on her.
I try to muster the casual, flirty guy I was earlier tonight.
“Devi, I…”
I jack off to you almost every day.
“…I, uh, didn’t know anyone else was out here. Or I
wouldn’t have, you know.” I mime throwing the phone.
She laughs and then bends down to unfasten her leather heel.
“If it’s in a good case, it might still be okay,” she says. I
watch, transfixed, as she kicks off both shoes, shimmies out of her shorts, and
then walks to the edge of the pool. She’s wearing what legally might qualify as
underwear, but only just barely.
Have I mentioned Devi Dare’s ass? Because I should.
She has one of the best asses known to mankind. Plump and thick and
juicy, the kind of ass that invites biting and squeezing, and the way it slopes
out from her small waist is pure poetry. And those legs—despite the
obvious muscles in her calves and thighs, they still move as she walks, like
her ass does, and there’s something so healthy about it, so
tantalizing about her body with its wide hips and slightly soft stomach and
full breasts. She’s sexy in such a visceral, biological way, the kind of
way that says you want to make babies with me. My cock
lengthens as I watch her, tens of thousands of years of evolution telling me to
haul her off and impregnate her.
She turns, hands on her hips. “Are you going to join me?”
“I was just enjoying the view,” I say, and it comes out a little
too raspy, a little too honest, but then I follow it up with a weak grin and
then she laughs and jumps into the pool. With a final gulp of whisky, I
put the cork in the bottle and then fling myself in after her, clothes, shoes
and all.
The water is cool and it’s the best kind of contrast to the dry
heat of the night and the warmth of the Scotch in my stomach, and the new kind
of warmth that’s agitating in my chest, something frictive and thrilling and
pressing up against my anger and my broken heart. Something that started
the moment Devi brushed up against my arm.
I jumped into the deep end, and so it’s a few beats before my
feet press flat against the bottom and I can push myself back up. I break
the surface, sputtering, and awkwardly try to swim over to Devi with one hand
still clenched around my Scotch bottle. She treads water as steadily and
gracefully as a water nymph, her long hair floating around her shoulders and
her gold top drifting away from her skin, giving me just the barest glimpse of
one nipple, dark rose and peaked into a tight furl. Water droplets cling
to the thick fringe of her eyelashes.
“You’re not very good at swimming,” she points out as I make my
way closer.
“Never liked it much,” I say, swimming past her and moving to
where my feet can touch. With a sigh of relief, I set my feet down,
examine the Scotch bottle to make sure no pool water leaked in, and then I take
a long drink. I’m on my way to being drunk, but I’m intent on sealing the
deal. What can I say? I’m a finisher.
Devi drifts up next to me, holding something in her hand.
It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my phone, the entire reason we
spontaneously jumped into the pool in the first place. And somehow,
miraculously, the pricey case the Apple Store girl talked me into buying has
saved the phone. The screen still glows with my unwritten text message.
Somehow, between the pool and the Scotch and Devi Dare with no
pants on, I’ve lost the urge to talk to Raven. I take the phone and toss
it carelessly onto the concrete and then turn back to Devi.
“You, on the other hand, seem like quite the swimmer,” I
say with a smile, offering her the Scotch. She takes it and raises the
bottle to her lips.
“I was raised in California, you know,” she says and then takes
a drink.
“Well, so was I. But my parents are Boston transplants, so
I guess they never saw swimming as a priority for me.”
She hands the bottle back to me. “I think I had floaties
before I had a bicycle. My parents are very, uh…” She searches for
the right words. “Natural people. They think it’s
important to be periodically cleansed of negative energy, and flowing water is
one of the best ways to do that. So we went swimming at least once a
week.”
I can see the faintest blush coloring the apples of her cheeks,
as if she’s embarrassed of what her parents believe. And then I wonder if
she’s embarrassed because she believes it a little too.
God, that blush is so sexy. I want to lick it right off
her face. And then pin her down and lick her everywhere.
She tilts her head to the sky. “You can see Cassiopeia
tonight.”
I look up, following her gaze, but I see nothing other than the
golden glow hovering above the city and a smattering of faint, twinkling stars.
“Is Cassiopeia a constellation?” I venture.
She laughs and nods, and then she reaches over and takes my head
in her hands. My pulse thrums, that warmth in my chest explodes into
flames, and I want her to kiss me kiss me kiss me, but before I can
turn my head to her, she trains my face to the sky, facing the right direction
this time.
“Do you see it?” she asks. Her mouth is close to my neck,
and I wonder what it would feel like if she bit me there. “It looks like
a letter M.” She traces the shape of it with her fingers, until finally I
see it--an underwhelming handful of tired stars.
“You can’t see it this far into the city sometimes,” she
continues.
“Cassiopeia sounds like a porn name,” I say frankly and she
laughs again.
“Ptolemy named it.”
I give her a blank look. I got pretty good grades in
school, but it’s been more than ten years since graduation, and anything not
intimately related to film or the kind of math I need to run my business has
been filtered out of my brain.
“Ptolemy was a Greek astronomer,” she explains, giving me an
amused glance. “He named it after a famous queen in Greek
mythology. She was so beautiful and vain and boastful that she brought
the wrath of Poseidon down on her kingdom.”
Beautiful, vain, boastful. My mind swerves back to Raven,
possibly still in this very house, possibly still being screwed with that evil
smile on her face. Where is Poseidon when you need him?
No.
No, I won’t let Raven crowd into my happy, drunk moment with
Devi and the Scotch. I speak as much to drive away thoughts of my ex as
to comment on Devi’s astronomy knowledge. “You know a lot about this
shit,” I tell her, turning my eyes back to her face completely.
And now she really blushes. “I really like
astronomy. Stars and galaxies and stuff. It makes life feel so...big...you
know?”
The thing is, I do know. That big feeling, I mean. I
get it every time I watch an amazing film, every time I imagine my own films
with just the right setting and just the right cinematography and just the
right score.
“I’ve never met a performer who’s told me anything like that,” I
say. And it’s true. Not once have I been around another adult film
star and had them confess a purely impractical fascination. A call toward
something that makes them feel like life is magical.
She blinks, and the way her long, thick eyelashes brush against
her wet cheeks is arresting. “Really?”
“Really. Devi Dare, I do believe you are my first.”
Pre-order
is available through iBooks
About
the Authors:
Laurelin Paige is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She's a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there's kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters.
Sierra
Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much
time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her
husband and family in Kansas City
Connect
with the Authors:
Laurelin
Paige
Sierra
Simone
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