He crawled up over my body, and I felt his muscled thighs brush against mine. The mattress indented when he braced his arms on either side my body, and I could feel his forearms touch the sides of my breasts.I put my hand on the back of his massive arm. His muscles were so hard and firm, it took me by surprise.Something else was hard and firm, too.His cock brushed against my pussy, and I could feel his skin against mine, the cloying pull as his and my wetness met – wet, hot, sticky – and then he pulled away.It was hard as rock, but clothed in soft, satiny skin.And just like that, I was ready to go again.He kissed me on the mouth, and I felt his lower body shift, and then there was a wonderful, throbbing, amazing pressure just about to part me – “Condom,” I whispered.He paused, and I could tell he was disappointed.I remembered what he had said in the showers:I get tested now, once a month. And I’m totally clean, by the way.I was actually on birth control. I could have let hi
We lay in bed, him holding my body against his, and just talked for a long time afterwards.A good portion of it was Derek busting my chops.“See? Was that so difficult?” he teased.“What?”“Sleeping with me.”I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see. “Whatever. If you hadn’t been such an asshole last night – ”“Me?! How was I an asshole?”“What, you don’t remember the 200 pairs of boobs you signed?”“Oh… that.”“‘Oh, THAT,’” I mimicked, and twisted his nipple.“Aaaaah!” he laughed, and started tickling me in retaliation, which led to roughhousing, which led to more kissing.After a minute, though, he pulled away and smiled. “It was just to make you jealous.”“Yeah, I’ll bet.”“Seems like it worked.”I wasn’t about to tell him that, yeah, it worked, all right.“Didn’t work so great, or we could have been doing this last night.”“Hey, I tried the straightforward approach – ”“Can we not talk about this?”Derek grinned. “What was it that changed your mind?”He was a little too pleased w
I awoke the next morning in Derek’s arms. I squinted blearily at the alarm clock by the bed. 10:52AM.A pure jolt of adrenalin shot through my veins.“Oh my God, get up, get up!” I shouted, shaking him roughly awake.“Wha– wha’s wrong?” he asked groggily.I hit the floor running, collecting my clothes and throwing his at him as he continued to loll on the bed. “It’s almost check-out time! We’ve got to go!”He just lay there, looking at me like I was the strangest thing he had ever seen.“Get up!” I said, hastily pulling on my panties.“You did not just wake me up for that,” he said, his expression somewhere between amused and pissed.“They’re going to charge us for an extra day if we’re not out of here by 11!”“Kaitlyn,” he said in a tone of voice he probably reserved for small children and older folks missing a few marbles. “I’m a rock star. And a millionaire. The fuck do I care if they charge us another couple hundred bucks?”I was used to looking for pennies and dimes in my kitche
It happened pretty quickly. First Derek said to me, “I liked those kids’ convertible last night. You want to get a convertible?”“No,” I said loudly.Derek ignored me. “I want a convertible. Show me the best convertible you’ve got on the lot,” he said.The salesman – who, after he got over the worst of being star-struck, introduced himself as Tad – showed it to us. It was absolutely gorgeous.I about choked on the price tag, though: $78,000.But Derek saw something else a few rows away, and walked over to check it out.It was a beautiful little retro convertible with rounded lines and powder blue paint. Perfect condition.“Oh yeah – sorry, I forgot about that one. 1969 Mercedes convertible,” the guy said. “We just got it yesterday – guy got divorced, had to sell it and get a cheaper car to pay off his lawyer. My heart broke for him when he gave me the keys, man.”“I’ll take it,” Derek said.“Don’t you want to know how much it is?” I asked, my mouth agape. There wasn’t even a ‘For Sa
Things weren’t morose for long. We walked back to where we’d parked the car and found a Greek place with gyros.“For old times’ sake,” Derek said, and winked.The sun was getting low in the sky when we climbed back in the car and headed south for San Diego.We got into the city limits just as the sun was setting. The sky was on fire with gorgeous oranges and reds, and I snuggled next to Derek as he drove along the freeway.Somehow we missed our exit. We had to stop for directions (at my insistence – like most men, Derek couldn’t admit when he was lost, and did NOT want to ask anybody else), but we finally figured out how to get to San Diego University.After the truck stop clerk drew us a map, Derek got a mischievous look on his face. First he bought a San Diego Padres ballcap, two red bandanas, and a flannel shirt. Then he motioned me over to a payphone and dumped in a whole bunch of quarters.I could hear Ryan answer on the other end. “Damn it, Derek, where the hell are you?! The op
Once I got close, though, my worrywart nature took over, and I decided to check out the bus first to make sure my things were still there.The crew knew me by now, and directed me out the back of the auditorium. I found the tour bus being guarded by a big, bearded roadie, and he let me aboard.Utter and complete relief. All my stuff – my purse, my wallet, my phone, my computer, my luggage, Ryan’s Zoom digital recorder – were exactly where I’d stowed them, in Derek’s personal closet. There was a message on my phone from Glen, my editor at Rolling Stone, but I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that conversation about journalistic ethics, so I just stowed the phone again and vowed to call him later.I took just a couple of minutes to throw on some light makeup in the posh bathroom, then put my purse back and turned to exit – When I saw Miles standing at the head of the bus.He did not look happy.In fact, he looked sort of like a serial killer in a horror movie. I guess it was that ‘fa
Our encounter in the shower was a thousand times better than the one from two nights ago.And in a wildly different way, so was the after-party.After we got dressed (I insisted on putting on some makeup and changing into new clothes on the tour bus), Derek took me on his arm and escorted me backstage – and into the midst of a couple dozen celebrities. Suddenly I wasn’t the wallflower reporter skulking on the sidelines; I was on the arm of the most desired man in a room full of fame and fortune. Hell, the most desired man in the country. Rappers, rock legends, film stars, TV actors – all of them were looking at me like, Who’s this? A couple of the rappers playfully hit on me, then joked with Derek like they were afraid he would come after them (“Awright man, you know I’m jus’ playin’ – I wouldn’t do you like that, dawg – but daaaamn, shorty is tight”). The older rockers and movie stars were courtly and polite, but the women – especially the younger women, the ones who had probably com
He strolled over to us, smoking a joint and strumming his guitar.“‘Ello, luv,” he smiled at me, then looked at Derek. “We still on for tomorrow, yeah?”Derek stared at him blankly – and then closed his eyes and winced. “Oh, shit, I totally forgot…”I frowned. “Forgot what?”For the first time ever, I saw something other than a look of placid contentment on Killian’s face. He looked flat-out disappointed. “Aw, c’mon now… I’m happy you two are in the midst of connubial bliss, but you promised, mate.”“Connubial…?” I slurred, now firmly in the grips of the champagne. “I don’t think that means what you think it means…”I giggled, realizing I sounded a lot like that quote from The Princess Bride:Inconceivable!You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.Which I thought was hilarious.Come on, cut me a break. I was drunk.Everybody else, though, was ignoring me.“Killian…” Derek said, sounding like he was about to try to weasel his way out of something.“You