by Victoria Blisse
Caitlyn is out to get what she wants and she desperately wants Nick Casey, Star of Dobsons Digs the biggest soap on TV. She will do anything to get into his life but one thing, one person always stops her. His annoying yet handsome PA Mike.
But there is more to Nick and to Mike than she could ever have first imagined. She ends up on a journey from one side of BDSM to the complete opposite and all the time she’s just looking for the man who can make her whole.
~ * ~
I pick up my coat, and feel Nick’s hands helping me into it, like the gentleman he obviously is. We walk outside, I wave to the others as I leave, my hand in the crook of Nick’s arm, my face set in a knowing smirk that I know will drive the others crazy. Outside Nick leads me to a sleek grey Porsche Boxster. He leads me to the passenger side door and lets me in, holding the door until I sit down, then he closes it gently behind me. He is a gentleman (or paranoid about his Porsche getting beaten up) and I admire his strong frame as he walks around the front of the car, seating himself beside me.
“Where am I taking you?” I reply with my address and he nods, “Yeah, I know where you mean, it’s not far from where I live, actually.”
“Oh good. I’m glad you won’t be going too far out of your way.”
He drives with the confidence and speed of a secret spy. He takes a particularly sharp corner, pretending to overbalance I reach out my hand till it lands on his thigh, and squeeze it, as if I were using it to break my fall.
“Sorry,” he croaks. “I get a bit carried away sometimes.”
“No problem.” I reply, my hand still lying at the top of his thigh. “I’m just a bit of a delicate girly girl sometimes.” I squeeze his thigh again, and feel his cock twitch in his pants. I am wet, I want to just pull the lever to lie the chair back and let him take me here and now. Not that he could do that. Driving and fucking at the same time is impossible, even for a big star like Nick.
I lift my hand away, so he can get to the gear stick, I lick my lips, as I think about getting my hands on his gear stick that I can see pressing against the crotch of his jeans. When he pulls up outside my flat, I smile over to him as I undo my safety belt. “Thank you so much for the lift, you saved me the trial of finding a taxi on a Friday night.”
“It was definitely my pleasure,” he replies, leaning over, angled towards me. I tip into the middle myself and land a gentle kiss on his cheek, then I feel his skin move below my lips, and suddenly I’m lip to lip with a sex god. With my sexual fantasy.
My hand presses onto his arm to hold me up and his other hand sweeps down my bare arm giving me goose bumps and setting my spine to trembling. My lips are fused to his, the nerves alight, as if they’re melting onto his, hot, liquid kisses which slip into the French, tongues rolling against one another, dueling and caressing.
This isn’t just a kiss it is the kiss. The most important of an episode, the one where their lips finally meet, fireworks, screaming classical violins and neon lighting all try to take the moment, but the lips have it. The kiss is the main star and everything else fades into the background. When a couple of my motor neurons manage to spark once again, I pull out of the kiss. I know it’s important to take control now, to deprive him of me, not to cling or seem too wanting.
I take a staggered breath and unclick my door. “I’ll see you Monday then Nick.” I manage to squeeze the words out between my raw lips.
“See you then, Caitlyn. Goodbye.”
I step out and walk directly to my door, fighting the urge to turn round and watch him drive away. I struggle to walk as the blood is pumping around me so fast, I feel like I’ve just gotten off a treadmill. Once through the door I strike my fist into the air, and yell, “YESSSSSSSSSS!”
I startle Old Mr. Connors who was coming home from his night cap. I apologise sheepishly and run up the stairs to the safety of my flat.