Comfort Object (22 page)

How to hide. Like you do, behind your fake girlfriend.

A knock came from the door, and Jeremy let Kyle in.

“Oh, she's here.” He looked relieved.

“Yes, she's here,” Jeremy snapped, releasing me to stalk over to the kitchen and grab a beer out of the refrigerator.

Kyle glared at me. “If you wanted to go out, you should have said.”

“I told her that already,” said Jeremy. I could see that Kyle was the one in the hot seat now.

The personal assistant/sex-toy procurer shall not allow said sex toy to wander about the city alone after torturing her with tit clamps and forced orgasms all day.

“Everything's fine now, Kyle. I'll see you in the morning,” Jeremy said. After Kyle left with one last frown in my direction, Jeremy looked at me as if assessing my mental soundness. He didn't look impressed with what he saw.

“You know, sunlight helps jet lag. Maybe tomorrow you can come with me to the set. It's closed. You'll be safe from the fans and paparazzi there, and you can get some fresh air and light. Reset your clock.”

“Yes, Jeremy,” I said. “That sounds fine.”

“You look tired. Are you hungry?”

“I ate just before I went out. I'm not hungry, no.”

“Go to bed, then,” he said. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day.”

My throat felt tight. Dismissed. I wanted him to hold me some more, but he was right, I was tired. I headed to my room and tried not to think about how wonderful it felt to be held so tightly in his arms, and the fact that I was going to my big, empty bed alone.

The restraints were still there on the headboard and footboard. I tucked them away and brushed my teeth, put on my old, ratty Betty Boop pajamas and climbed into bed. I didn't want to cry, but I did. I couldn't help it. I felt so lost and sad. I hunched into a ball and let the tears come.

Then he was there, sliding into the bed behind me, pulling me close. He didn't shush me this time, just held me as I sobbed and shook, my back pressed to his chest. He buried his face in my hair and clasped me hard.

“It's all right.” He nuzzled against my ear as I shuddered and cried. He kissed my neck and snaked his hand up under my loose T-shirt, caressing me, avoiding my tender nipples as if he knew they ached too much for play. Soon I felt his hard cock nudge against my hip. While I sobbed, he pulled my pajama bottoms down and ran his hand down between my thighs. I heard the rattle of cellophane, then felt the thick head of his cock pushing into my slit. I thought it strange that he would want to fuck me now, when I was weeping and falling apart.

But as soon as he began to move in me, I felt the strange appropriateness of it. It calmed me. It soothed me. It grounded me. He took me in long, measured strokes, his hands on my shoulders and neck, then down between my legs, stroking, caressing, pressing, and pinching my clit. My bereft, tortured sobs quickly commuted into soft moans of pleasure. He filled me so perfectly, he moved in me so deftly and skillfully, like no lover I'd ever had.

“Better, Nell?” he whispered in my ear as he fucked me.

Yes yes yes, better. Everything's better again.

And I would have been perfectly happy not coming. I would have not come just to prove how sorry I was, just to let him know that from then on, every one of my orgasms would be his. But he urged me to come, stroking my clit the way I had stroked it that morning when I was forced to masturbate myself. I remembered how he'd watched me, studied my fingers as they moved across my slit. It occurred to me that this man was more complex than I realized. I cried even harder to think that he'd done that, watched me in order to learn how to pleasure me later. Punishment…and care. My quaking, sparkling orgasm came in hectic waves of color, waves the color of ice blue eyes.

“Yes,” he said as I shook and gasped in his arms. “Good girl.”

I thought it was all too much. Too much warmth, too much confusion, too much pain, too much pleasure, too much joy.

Too much fear of living life with him, too much devastation if he were to send me away.

Too much of his cock, and never enough.

Too many feelings that I couldn't come to terms with.

Too many tears and too much pain. Too much risk.

Too many floors up, and way too far to fall.

Mine

Jesus Christ. She undid me.

I would just hold her until she fell asleep, and then I'd leave.

I might lick her velvet skin, just a little, to soothe her…her shoulders and the luscious little hollow at her nape.

I buried my hand in her lovely, silky, soft red curls and squeezed lightly. I bit her neck, but I didn't mark her.

I wanted to, though.

Mine.

“Go to sleep now. No more crying.”

“Yes, Jeremy,” she whispered.

My cock was still inside her. I pulled out to peel off the condom, but I didn't pull away. I didn't want to think about what that meant, that I couldn't let her go.

I mean, sure, I liked her. That much was obvious. When I'd returned to the hotel early and found her gone, my mind had flown at once to the worst possible scenarios.
She's left you. She's lost. Someone's got her
. Unreasonable fears, the worst one being that she had simply decided to bail.
You're too much for her, too sick, too rough, too coarse, too perverse.

I knew I had been harsh on her, but I had to be. Law was law, and she had to be taught that rules mattered to me. Plus, to be honest, I got off on punishing her. I was a pervert. There was nothing I could do about it.

Anyway, she was a pervert too.

Deep down inside, I believed she was every bit as perverted as me, although she was holding back like any submissive would. There were so many things I still had to do to her, so many ways I still wanted to use her, and I knew she'd enjoy every one. When I thought she had left, I'd had a moment of real panic.
No, not already. Not so soon.

But she hadn't left. A cursory look in her room showed me her luggage was still there, and anyway, where could she have gone? She didn't have enough money yet to leave on her own. She would have had to ask me to get a ticket for her, at least until she got her first paycheck. And if she'd asked me, I would have—I really would have—but only after I'd done everything in my power to convince her to stay.

But no, she hadn't left. Instead she'd foolishly braved the streets of Bangkok alone, as if no one would notice her. Her picture was plastered all over the daily tabloids, standing beside me with that lovely, tired smile and that ridiculous red hair that made it impossible to look away.

Yes, I'd bought a copy of one of the papers, the nicest, full-color one, left it in my trailer on the set to look at during breaks. I needed to get some erotic pictures of her for my private use. It wasn't in the contract, but I bet I could talk her into it if I turned on the charm.

But not now. For now I had to let her sleep the day off, sleep everything away, so we could start fresh again. I wasn't happy about her wandering off, but I figured she'd been punished enough for that lapse in judgment. When she'd walked into the hotel lobby beside the policeman, my breath had left my chest in a rush.

Mine
, I'd wanted to say as soon as I laid eyes on her.
Thanks, Officer. She's mine.

She was mine. She'd agreed to be. Maybe I'd just sleep beside her all night. Why not? That way if I woke up horny, I could just use her. I could just slip deep inside.

That way, I could sleep all night with her in my arms, and remember that she hadn't left after all.

* * *

I stood beside Jess, stifling a yawn. Above us, grips were rigging the lights, and the stunt crew was resetting the ladder Jess and I would climb, so it would fall down again just the right way. Rig, reset, repeat. I was so fucking bored.

Across the soundstage, Nell had her nose buried in a book. Only her. Bring her to a massive studio during the filming of a blockbuster production, and she's more interested in the
Odyssey
. I stared at her, thinking of the things I could be doing if we were alone. I could strap her to the rigging, do some deep character study involving her ass and my cock.

I'd been eager to bring her to the set, to get her out of the secluded hotel room. I thought it would be good for her to get out and about. But she retreated by herself into a quiet corner of the soundstage as soon as we arrived. And her brief meeting with Jess had not gone as I imagined it. Nell mostly blushed and stared at the floor. I tried to figure out what she was feeling, what was making her so moody. Shame? Surely she realized I'd forgiven her for the day before. Punishment meted out. Finished. Time to move on.

But she wasn't moving on.

Jess nudged me when she noticed me looking at Nell. “Really, Jeremy. Another one? When are you going to get a real girlfriend?”

I chuckled. “Well, you're no longer available. I take what I can get.”

“And how is this one treating you? She seems a little skittish compared to the last one.”

“We haven't been together long.”

“She might not be up to the depths of your depravity.”

“She's up to it.” I looked at her bent over her book, her lips drawn together in a pout of concentration. My cock twitched. “We just literally haven't had much time, Jess. I met her…God…a couple of weeks ago.”

“And she followed you all the way to Bangkok.” Jessamine raised her eyebrows. “You must be paying her a lot. Or she must have been really desperate for work.”

“A little bit of both. Anyway, she's not like the last one. She's smart. She's really…real.”

“Is she?” Jessamine looked over at her. “Be careful, or you might actually fall in love.”