“Does it feel real now?”
A pause. Then: “Yes.”
I trace the curve of her shoulder, my fingers dancing over her skin to find the slope of her rib cage, and my hand settles in making circles in the dip of her waist. “I want things to be real between us all of the time,” I say, and I didn’t realize how nervous I would be saying this until I’m saying it now. “I know we’ve admitted that we like each other in a physical sense. That we’re attracted to each other and want to be more than friends. But it’s even more than that for me.”
I feel her tense up underneath my hand, and I have a brief debate—backpedal or continue? But I have to continue. If she decides that my feelings make her too uncomfortable to go on with Star-Crossed, then I have to accept that. But I don’t think I can hide how I really feel from her any longer.
But to make myself more comfortable, I revert to what I know best—sex. My hand skims around her waist to the curve of her ass, and then I find her pussy warm and soft between her legs. She moans as I start playing with her.
“I like you, Devi. Not just in the porno way, but in the mushy hearts and flowers kind of way. I like being with you and hearing you talk and just watching you exist. I know that makes me a stalker, but...well, I guess I don’t really have an excuse for that. Almost every night since we filmed Playdates, I’ve beaten off to your scenes…”
“Jesus, Logan,” she murmurs.
“Is that a good Jesus or a bad Jesus?”
“So good,” she mumbles, rolling onto her stomach and spreading her legs so that I have better access to her pussy. “Rub me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I comply with her request and search out her clit, kneading it gently in case she’s sore. “So I know I’m being manipulative by fingering you while we have this discussion, but I guess I want to know if I’m alone in this. If you like me in the mushy way too.”
I can hear her smile in her words even though I can’t see her face. “I like you in the mushy way too. A lot. You’re definitely not alone.”
The wave of sweet relief hits me so hard that I’m surprised to find that my eyelids are burning a little. I clear my throat to cover it up. “Really?”
“Really.” She turns her head to look at me. “I masturbated to you almost every night too, you know. And the sex tonight was so good. You make me feel—I don’t even have words for it. Reckless. Alive. Ecstatic. I was so caught up in you that I let you fuck me without a condom.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I would fucking never do that in my right mind.”
By now I should be used to the fact that Devi doesn’t make emotional leaps without a healthy dose of logical caution, that there will always be a gap between my impetuous declarations and her admitting that she feels the same way. But I’m not used to it yet, I guess, because relief and joy and giddy excitement are still thrumming through me with tornadic force. I drop my head to her shoulder blade, breathing in her cinnamon smell. “I want to make you out of your mind all the time,” I say against her skin. “Like the way you make me.”
“I’d say you’re off to a good start.” She squirms against my hand, and when I tease her folds open, I find that she’s completely soaked.
I peer around to see her eyes. “Does this mean I can—” I search for the right words. “—try to be your boyfriend?”
“Try?” Her voice and expression are unreadable as she repeats the key word to the request, and shame bolts through me. I want to offer her so much more than try, I want to be, but at the same time, this is Devi. Perfection embodied. My goddess and queen of the night, and what if I’m not able to be good enough for her?
What if, like Tanner suggested, she’s not okay with me continuing with my porn career?
Try is safest for now, even though it’s the least of what I want to give her. I’m the older, (theoretically) more mature party in this, and I’ve also recently traveled through the conflagration of a ruined relationship. I deserve better, Devi certainly deserves better, and that means treading thoughtfully for now.
“Yes,” I say carefully. “I want to try a boyfriend-girlfriend thing with you.”
I see her mind running through my words, weighing them and judging them, and then the biggest, most bashful smile spreads across her face. “Yes, Logan. Let’s try to have a boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say, and I should tell her I love her now, I want to, but then I think of my logical girl with her cautious eyes. It’s fascinating to me how she can seem so carefree, so sunny, but at the same time, she’s got a mind that ticks through thoughts and decisions like a Swiss watch. I can’t spring the love thing on her now without making her watch mechanisms work overtime, so instead, I say, “I’ve got to fuck you again, you know that right?”
Her body makes a sinuous arch as she stretches off the sleeping bag to find my wallet. She extracts a condom, and I rise up on my knees, a big dopey grin on my face. My thoughts run something like this: sex is happening, yay! With my new sort-of girlfriend, yay! Sex sex sex!
She tears the wrapper open with her teeth, expertly pinches the tip and rolls it down my thick erection. When she’s done, she gives my cock a little teasing squeeze and looks up at my face.
“You look so happy,” she says shyly.
“Because I get to fuck my sort-of girlfriend right now.”
Spontaneously, she rises up and gives me a deep, searing kiss. I kiss her back until she’s panting and squirming against me.