My phone rings, lighting up with an incoming call from my favorite actress, and just like that the stress of the day melts away. “Hey, you.” I walk across the room and flop back on the couch.
“Guess what I’m doing right now?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is I’m picturing you in sexy lingerie.”
Her laugh is husky. “You would be sorely disappointed. Nothing about my outfit is attractive.”
“I beg to differ. You look amazing all the time.”
“Even in sweatpants and an old T-shirt?”
“Especially that.” For real. The thought of Cora casual and relaxed in her bed hardens my cock.
“You’re delusional, you know that?” She pauses a moment, a sharp inhale of breath as if she’s yawning. “Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?”
“Always.”
“I’m staring at your painting.”
“Oh, God, you hung it?” I close my eyes. Embarrassed at the idea.
“Of course, I did! Art is meant to be enjoyed, not locked away. It looks really good in my bedroom.”
As much as the thought of my amateur painting in her million-dollar condo makes me cringe, it’s overrun by the fact she hung it in her bedroom. A smile pulls at my lips. “Well, since I can’t be there with you, it’s the next best thing.”
“Exactly.” Her next yawn interrupts her words. “I like having a piece of you with me. Is that too forward? I should play it much cooler, but I’ve never been good at games.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“You’re not just saying that to be nice?”
“Maybe I haven’t been abundantly clear. Cora Bentley, I am so into you.” I pause and delight in her laughter. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Dreaming about you. Fantasizing about you.” My dick grows painfully hard as my mind fills with all the delicious ways I want to worship her. “Is it the weekend yet?” I groan, gripping my shaft over my shorts.
“Two more days.” Her voice is breathy. “I hope you’re ready for me. Because I have a lot of built-up sexual tension and I intend to unleash all of it on you at some point.”
“Are you touching yourself?” Because I sure as hell am.
“Basically, any time we are on the phone and I’m at home you can guarantee I am.”
A frustrated groan passes through my lips. “Fuck. That’s so hot.” I wish I were there. My hand sneaks under the waistband of my shorts to stroke my throbbing cock. I imagine her lips open and ready to suck me dry. Her legs spread, pussy open and on display. My mouth salivates at the memory of her taste.
“Isaac.” Her breaths are ragged, “I want you to come too.”
I stroke myself in earnest, needing to catch up so we experience pleasure together even though we’re miles apart. Her breaths fill the line, hitting my ear and shooting tingles of arousal throughout my body. Minutes pass and we don’t talk or dictate the play-by-play. It’s not necessary. I know what she’s doing, who she’s thinking of while she touches herself, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s everything.
“Cora.” I bite back a moan so it won’t wake David, even though it probably wouldn’t anyway. “I’m gonna come.”
“Yes. I’m . . . Fuck.” Her moan sends a bolt of lust down my spine. Listening to her fall apart sends me over the edge.
My balls tighten. Breath catches. My entire body tenses as my orgasm hits. I shoot my load, coating my fingers and stomach in a mess, but totally worth it. “This weekend,” I pant. A promise. A resolution. We will find a way to be intimate.
“Yes.” Exhaustion is thick in her answer.
“You’re tired. You should sleep.”
“But I don’t want to say good night.” Her words strike something inside me, rattling feelings loose that I assumed I was incapable of.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Sleep well.”
“I will. Night, Isaac.”
I end the call and head to the bathroom to clean myself up. I should go to bed too. It’s been a long day and tomorrow will be longer. But restless energy swirls in my chest, like a dust devil building with speed and size, and I can’t ignore it.
The feeling surges and grows with each passing second, buzzing in my limbs. It’s a familiar emotion, one I’d all but forgotten. Hello, old friend. It courses through my veins until my fingertips tremble. Fuck it. I walk to the hall closet to resurrect a box I buried there. One I meant to go through and sell off over a year ago.
Inside, I find everything still the same. Brushes. Bottles. Pencils, canvases, and notebooks. Taking out a box of pencils and a notebook, I head back to the table and clear away my textbooks.
I don’t overthink. I don’t rationalize. Or even stop to consider what a monumental waste of time this is. Instead, I inhale a ragged breath and let my fingers take the lead. I haven’t done this in so long, but much like riding a bike or picking up a football, the muscle memory is there. It’s not as if I’m attempting to recreate the Sistine Chapel, just trying to honor the artist buried inside.
Lines chase across the parchment. Swift strokes. Shading. It all comes together to form an image. One I can’t get out of my head. The one thing that led me back to myself.
Her. Every feeling she’s stoked. Every conversation we’ve shared. The touch of her skin. The smell of her shampoo. The sparkle in her smiling eyes. All of it invades my thoughts, rushing like wind and inspiring this art.
When I glance at the clock, over an hour has passed but I feel more alive and awake than I’ve been all day. Satisfaction fills my chest as I take in my work in progress. Damn. That felt amazing. I feel like myself, the new version. A little older. More experienced. Jaded too, sure, but appreciative of all the good things because of the hardships to get here. I may never be a bestselling artist, but I don’t have to give up this part of my life. It isn’t an all or nothing. It never was.
Twenty-Eight
Cora
“You boys ready for a good time?” I call out through the open window of my Hummer, idling at the curb in front of Isaac’s apartment.
Isaac smiles, but it’s forced and seems full of worry. He walks over holding David’s hand and cradling a kid’s booster seat under his other arm. “It’ll be an adventure.” His gaze drops to where David seemingly ignores us both.
They usually travel by bus, using public transport, but I can’t do that without risking a scene. Fans are usually pretty cool, but there have been instances when they won’t leave me alone or become pushy and rude. I won’t expose Isaac or David to that. Besides, Isaac told me again yesterday he isn’t sure how David will handle our outing. It’s outside of his routine, so having my vehicle provides an easy way to bail.
“Need help?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” Isaac adjusts the booster seat in the back and buckles David in.
I adjust the AC and attempt to refrain from filling the silence with chatter. Not the easiest because I am so excited for this day. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.