Kim Karr - Dazed

I pull my sweater off and let it fall to the ground. I can feel his eyes on me as I move toward the bed and seconds later drop my bra. When I kick my red heels off and unzip my pants he watches me intently.

“Put those back on once you’re undressed,” he breathes.

I smile to myself as I pull my legs out of my jeans, but leave on my white silk panties. I wedge my foot back in my shoe and bend backward to hook my heel into it.

“Everything first.” His deep voice sends a shiver through me.

I still can’t see him, which makes this so much easier. I turn around as I step out of my shoe for the second time. He’s leaning against the wall and as I turn he licks his lips. He has lust and want written all over his face and that’s all I need to see to set my soul on fire. There’s something so empowering about knowing he wants me as much as I want him. And I want tonight to be a night he’ll never forget.

His eyes pin me as I slide my panties over my thighs and let them drop before stepping out of them and back into my shoes.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Sauntering up to him, I notice his lips are slightly parted and his eyes hooded. He smells incredibly sexy and I can’t help but run my nose down his neck, stopping to suck in a few places along the way. I’ve never given anyone a hickey and right now I really want to. He doesn’t say I can’t so I give it a try. His hands are at my hips and his fingers are splayed across my ass. I run my hands under his shirt and it bunches at the top as my lips follow the same path. I notice he’s watching me with a predatory look as I pull his plain, white long-sleeved tee over his head.

He pulls me tight against him and my nipples harden instantly at the contact.

His teeth skim the shell of my ear. “Tell me what you want first.”

My stomach flutters. “Whatever you want,” I say, trying not to sound too breathy.

“I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you right now. What were you thinking about in the lobby?”

I lean back and look at him—the connection we share is so powerful, I am not the least bit ashamed to tell him what my thoughts were. “About you making me come, about your face between my legs and your cock inside me.”

He tilts my chin to look at him. “I can’t wait to fuck you with my tongue and my cock. But can you do something for me?”

I nod, completely turned on by his words and the thought of what’s to come—I think I’d agree to anything.

“Can you let your need for control go, for just this one night?”

I swallow and stare back into his eyes for the longest time before answering. “Yes.”

He grins. “And leave your shoes on.”

I smirk.

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know,” I answer, as my hands move to his pants and unbutton them. I’ve been waiting to hold his full, thick cock in my hand for way too long.

He kicks his boots off and I quickly help him slide the denim down his legs and then follow with his boxers. He stands gloriously naked before me and the minute his cock springs free, I wrap my palm around it. With my other hand roaming his body, and both of his roaming mine, he moves us toward the bed. He tugs the bedspread off and pats his hand against the pillow.

“Lay here and keep your hands gripped to this,” he says pointing to the top of the wooden headboard.

As I lie on the bed and grip the headboard, I place my legs as wide apart as I can in anticipation of what’s to come. When his lips find my mouth and slide down my neck, he sucks in one spot for a few short moments. When he stops I can feel the vibration of laughter dance across my skin. “Now we can have matching hickeys,” he murmurs and my body begins to shake with laughter as well, but it quickly stops when his teeth graze my nipple.

His descent is slow and torturous, but so good. He circles my breasts and licks my nipples into hard peaks as his hand slides down my body. His fingertips trail down my hip bone to my inner thigh and work their way up again.

“You’re so wet.”

With his mouth on my breasts, his fingers circle my clit and I’m sure he can tell how much I want him—no more words are necessary because my body is speaking on its own.

His tongue flicks in and out of my belly button as he slips a finger inside me. I can feel the centralized pulsing starting to build as every nerve comes alive. I reach down to tangle my fingers through his hair, and just as his tongue hits right where I want it the most—the place where the ache radiates most strongly, he lifts his head.

“Put your hands back over your head or I’ll have to start all over.”

I quickly do as he says—needing the release that I know will come. With my hands back in place, but itching so badly to touch him, I look back down at him. His hands spread my folds and he dips his tongue inside me and then moves it up to circle my clit.

“Do you like this?” he asks.

I can only moan.

“Or this?” he asks.

And then I figure it out; he wants to know which place will set me off. Which place brings the most pleasure.

“There, right there,” I call out as my orgasm swells inside me.

He circles his tongue in just the right spot and my orgasm builds to new heights and I can’t stop myself.

“Oh God, yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. Oh God, yes.” I repeat these words over and over.

“Let go, Aerie, just let go,” he tells me.

And I do. I let everything I am and everything I know fade away as I look into his stormy grey eyes and scream his name over and over as that single wave of pleasure consumes my entire being.

He moves up my body staying pressed against me and when his head is aligned with mine he weaves his hands in mine. His hard cock throbs against my leg and he kisses me with the sweetest of kisses—soft, gentle, loving.

“Let’s do that again, but this time I’m going to be inside you.”

I want to push his hair from his eyes, but his hands hold mine tightly.

“I don’t know if I can,” I breathe.

“You can,” he says confidently.

He positions himself on top of me and, letting go of my hands, guides himself in. He moves slowly, stopping occasionally to assess my reaction. I moan when he pulls out and re-enters and again slowly slides in. He buries his face in my neck and instead of sucking on the spot he had more than likely bruised, he kisses it gently. I raise my hips and his cock moves deeper, but I want even more. Pressing my heels into the mattress, I try to engulf him. I want to feel all of him.

“What do you want, Aerie?” he whispers.

“More of you. All of you.”

But instead of giving me more, he pulls out. His eyes are intense and focused. “Do you trust me?”

I nod.

“Get on top of me.”

My heart pounds, but I do as he says, and as I straddle his thighs, his cock rubs against my stomach. He takes it his hand and my stomach flutters.

“Lift yourself on top of me,” he whispers.

I want to laugh at myself for not having figured that out to begin with.

As I lower myself down, he grabs my hands and pushes against my palms. That’s all the support I need, and before long, we find a rhythm. He arches his back as I rise up and I can see the pleasure he’s feeling at the same time I feel it. He lets go of my hands to cup my breasts. I look down at him and my hair tumbles forward. He pushes it away. His hips rise off the bed, his hands move to my clit. I watch it all. Erotic, beautiful, different, new—everything I’ve never known and nothing I ever want to live without.

I lean back slightly and sensations sweep through my body everywhere.

“Fuck,” he groans.

And in unison, the two of us become one and small ripples of pleasure race through me over and over, one after the other in continuous waves.

For the rest of the night, we didn’t say we loved each other again . . . we didn’t have to. We took the time to learn each other’s body. What we liked, where we liked it. I let go and let him in—and he showed me how.

Jagger had promised to get me to work on time, but I took the morning off anyway. I had tons of personal hours saved up that I hadn’t used in years. He dropped me off at my house with plenty of time for me to shower and get to work by noon.

The sight of two huge white envelopes, at least six inches thick, sitting on my desk greets me the moment I walk in my office. I approach it with curiosity.

Kay looks at me. “I hope that’s not your severance package,” she jokes.

I raised a brow. “At least it would be a big one.”

Laughing, she taps her pencil on her desk. “Well, what is it?” she asks.

Pride rushes through me as I see Warner Bros. stamped across the thick packages.

“It must be the script changes for my uncle’s movie,” I beam.

She purses her lips. “What movie? I didn’t know your uncle made movies.”

I sit down and roll my chair to open the side drawer. “He doesn’t. My uncle was a musician and Warner Bros. is making a movie about his life.”

“Don’t tell me your uncle is Ian Daniels,” she remarks in shock.

Slitting the envelopes open with the letter opener, I pull the contents out of the first one. “None other.”

She stares at me, seemingly unable to speak.

“What?” I ask, glancing down at the two-page memorandum from the director addressed to me.

“My sister is doing her first screen test today for the role of Madeline in that movie.”

“In the movie, No Led Zeppelin?” I ask.

“Yes.” She beams.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she answers.

My eyes scan the words before me.

Ms. Daniels,

As you know screenplays are instruments that transform words on a page and bring stories to life. They should snap, crackle, and pop from page one. And although I find your uncle’s life fascinating, I believe the integral element of romance is needed to make this movie all it can be. I want to grab the audience’s attention from page 1, from the very first scene. And when it ends, I want to leave the audience grieving with the most profound emotional impact I possibly can.

So with that being said, attached are the changes I’ve made to the script. The biographers stumbled across your uncle’s on again off again romance and I have taken a few liberties to expand upon it. The romance your uncle shared with Madeline Grayson through the years and even up until the two years before his death is inspiring . . .

My heart sinks and I lift my eyes from the paper. Madeline Grayson? That’s Levi’s mother. I had no idea my uncle ever dated her. She was married to Levi’s father for years. But they divorced that last summer I spent at the beach with my uncle. The summer before Levi broke my heart and I couldn’t bring myself to go back until it was too late. Until my uncle was dying.

I glance over at Kay. “When did you say your sister was doing the screen test?”

“She got a call about an hour ago and was told to be there at two.”

“Who’s your sister?” I ask as I try to glance at the script changes that will take days to go through.

“Jules Atwood. We’re half-sisters, actually.”

The name rings in my head, but I can’t place it. I know I’ve heard of her.

“Aerie?” she asks.

I look up. “I’m sorry. What?”

“My sister. Do you think she’d be good for the role of your uncle’s girlfriend?”

I click my computer keyboard and Google Jules Atwood. “I’m not really sure, to be honest with you.”

My mouth drops as I stare at the face of the woman I saw in the elevator that morning. The one with the raspberry leather jacket, the one with the haunting face, the one Jagger spoke to by his car, and—Kay’s sister. Zooming in on one of the pictures on the screen, she’s dressed in a long tight skirt, showing off her narrow hips and tall, slender figure—and that’s all she’s wearing. She’s topless with her hair in front of her breasts and her heavy-looking earrings sparkle in the reflection of the water she’s standing in. She’s absolutely stunning and the thought of her cast against Jagger makes my stomach turn.

I quickly close the computer window and take a deep calming breath. “Excuse me a minute.” I grab my phone and head out to the lobby. Dialing my attorney, he comes on the line and reminds me that I declined my rights to review script changes. He says we can fight them but they’d probably win. However, it would tie up production for a long time and maybe long enough that the execs would just shelve the project.