Exrated

by Stevie J. Cole

I want to kiss him. Fuck I want to kiss him…I flatten my palms over his chest and shove him off of me. “What I won’t forget, Tyle,r is that you’re a porn star.”

My heart is thumping in my chest, adrenaline buzzing over my skin. I feel like a raging bitch, but it’s a defense mechanism. If I’m nice, if I give him any leeway, I will give into him, and I can’t let myself do that. Do I want to fuck him? God yes I do, but my heart can’t take that.

I bend down, unzip my suitcase, and pull out my toiletries bag. When I straighten up, Tyler’s back is to me, and he’s pulling his shirt over his head. My eyes inadvertently skim over his hard muscles, my traitorous body heating. The muscles in his forearm twitch as he unzips his fly. I should turn away, but I’m unable to tear my gaze away. He’s slowly shoving the hips of his jeans down in the same teasing fashion a stripper would. I swallow. My heart rate kicks up a notch. He glances over his shoulder and catches me blatantly gawking at him. “You looking at my ass or that stain?”

Part of me thinks I'm an idiot—both for wanting him and for not giving into him. We grew up together. I loved him in a way I doubt I will ever love another man, and I know that because I’ve hated him more than I’ve ever hated anyone before. Hate is a product of failed love only when you can’t find it in you to let go. And you know what? I fucking hate him because I love him.

Porn star… I mean, after all, it’s just a job, right? Maybe I'm shallow. What the fuck am I thinking, shallow? He screws other women. I can just imagine how that would work out if I actually got involved with him. He’d come home from a day at work and I sure as hell wouldn’t ask him, ‘How was your day, babe?’ Because I wouldn’t want to know. There’s stigma…and, again, he would be fucking other women.

The women in line stare and drool when we walk past them. The one in the front has the replica of Tyler’s dick clutched in her hand. I seriously cannot believe this is real life right now.

Tyler holds the door to the shop open. As soon as I’m inside, I see a banner with a picture of a flesh colored dildo—his very own personal dildo, the name ‘Johnny Depth’ in bright red letters to the side of it. “Wow,” I say, reading over the description of his dildo. “Suction cup for pleasure during bath time, huh?” “Yep.”

Tyler hands the dildo back to her, stands up for a picture—during which, the woman grabs his ass—and then she walks off. As soon as he sits back down, I lean over to him. “You know,” I whisper as the next person walks toward the table. “You just held something that woman has had inside her quivering vagina.” He swallows and exhales. “Did you have to say quivering?” “Yep. Quivering wet folds.” He gags a little, then smiles as the next woman hands him her replica of little Johnny.

The rant of this perv fades into the background. I hate this. Before, all the shit was funny. This—this is not entertaining. All I can see is Tyler balls deep in some girl, and as much as I try to not let it get to me, I can’t help it.

From the outside, everyone thinks we hate each other, but deep down inside all that bickering comes from a place of love, and as long as we aren’t ignoring each other, we both know there’s still something there. And even though I know this will never go anywhere, well, I still like knowing it’s there.

She groans before slamming the door to the bathroom. When I hear the shower cut on. I glance toward the door, then back at the clock. She takes thirty minute showers. I can get off in five minutes. Having to share a room with her, watching her prance around in those short sleep shorts, having to ignore how hard her nipples are when she wakes up and climbs out of bed to piss. I swear she wears thin shirts on purpose. My balls are fucking heavy as shit right now. I know it’s sick, but I think I’m getting backed up.

Pressing play, I prop my phone on the pillow beside me and shove my sweats and boxers down to my ankles. At the sound of that first moan, my dick swells. The fact that Jemma’s in the bathroom naked and wet makes this all the more of a turn on. I fist my cock, watching as she grins up at the camera before slipping those perfect fucking lips of hers around that dick. I can’t see him, so I just imagine it’s my cock sliding into her warm, wet mouth. The camera pans down her body, stopping on her perky little tits. I can remember exactly what they feel like in my palms—what she smells like.

The thought of how damn good her pussy tastes on my tongue makes my muscles tense and a short groan work its way up my throat. I’m jerking my shit hard, my hand slapping against my stomach. I close my eyes for a second and listen to her moans, her heavy breaths. I’m so fucking turned on right now. I reach down and grab my balls with my free hand, rolling them around in my palm. I’m close, I can feel everything in my gut tightening and threatening to explode, and my movements grow more frantic in the process. Another moan and my toes are curling.

“Tyler, what the…” My gaze drifts from her to the video still playing. “Stroking one out to your video, what’s it looks like I’m doing?” I ask, pumping on my cock a few more times. My pulse is in overdrive, and I feel like a shady shit, but I would never let her know it. “Now,” I motion her away with the hand that has been fondling my balls, “if you’d go back to your shower so I can finish…” Her cheeks redden as her eyes stray back to my phone.

My eyes remain locked with hers. My dick’s still in my hand when she comes stomping across the room. Water drips onto my bare stomach when she leans over me to snatch the phone. I should grab her and throw her down on the bed, rip that towel open and fuck some goddamn sense into her.

She stumbles back onto the other bed and glares at me like she wants to fucking kill me. Her chest is heaving, her hair still dripping over her shoulder. Standing, I yank my sweatpants up before taking the few steps to the edge of her bed. I stand over her, and we stare at each other. With each passing second, her breaths fall more ragged. Rolling her eyes, she tears her gaze away and pushes up from the bed, but when she tries to walk past me, I grab her wrist and tug her back.