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“Alcohol, vacations, having a good time with friends and generally living the good life. What hurt the most is that it wasn’t necessary. I’d bought them a house, and I deposited money in their bank accounts every month. A lot of money.”

“Money does strange things to people,” Grace says, her tone strange.

“Anyway, I gave them chance after chance. They promised to change every time, and then something else would happen. Another piece in the tabloid that could only have come from them. This cycle went on for three years, and then I had enough.”

“That must have been a tough decision to make,” Grace says.

“Not as tough as you’d imagine. By that time, I’d had enough, and I knew they weren’t going to suffer financially. I wasn’t going to cut them off financially. The deposits are automatic, but I haven’t seen or heard from them in four years.”

“Have they tried to get in touch?” she says.

“The answer to that is that I don’t know. Chris knows better than to tell me. I came to terms with who my parents are. It’s not that they don’t love me; they just love money more.”

“That is sad,” she says. “We’ve both been affected by fame in different ways.”

“Yeah, but I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. I’m proud of myself for making it in this industry. I worked my ass off to get where I am. Sure the paparazzi and the fake stories are horrible, but that’s just one side of it. I get to do what I love, and that makes it worth it.”

“I guess so,” she says.

“Come on; let’s get up. You have work to do, and so do I.” I hug and kiss her and gently roll her over from my chest.

“You’re right. I better start working on some ideas for the other paintings,” Grace says.

“I brought my script. That will keep me busy while you work your magic. “Shower first?” I ask her, already headed to the bathroom.

“I’m right behind you.”

I wasn’t entirely honest with Grace when I told her that I’d come to terms with it. I haven’t. Sometimes, I miss them with an ache that cuts deep. I miss my parents, not the fans they ended up being. They stopped seeing me as their son. I became an ATM. It hurt like fuck. I can see them in my mind’s eye when I was confronting them about selling a story to the press. The way my mother would shoot a guilty look at my father. He was tougher than her and would look at me defiantly as if asking me what was I going to do about it. Nothing, it turned out. Except not speaking to them. And that doesn’t seem to matter.

I know they’re well, though, and I keep tabs on them. They use their money for vacations and stuff like that. It makes me happy to know they are enjoying their lives and sunset years.

I step into the shower and turn the knob. The bathroom door creaks open, and Grace enters. She steps into the shower, and all my disturbing thoughts disappear when I set my eyes on her. It’s as if a ray of sunshine has stepped into the shower with me.

Chapter 19

Grace

I wake up to Kyle’s hands cupping my breasts and softly massaging them. I let out a quiet moan and arch my chest into his hands. My whole body is aroused, and wetness seeps from my center to my thighs.

His hard cock slides between my thighs, and I lift one leg slightly. He hisses when his cock comes up to my soaking wet entrance. Kyle presses his cock in slowly, pushing my walls back and filling me up. He pulls out completely, and I push my ass back and make noises of protest. He chuckles softly and rubs the tip of his cock up and down my slit, teasing my clit mercilessly.

“Kyle, please.”

“Are you begging for my cock?” he says, his voice teasing and lazy.

My body shudders from unfulfilled need. “Yes,” I tell him between gritted teeth. I make a silent vow for revenge by teasing him the same way he’s teasing me.

He plunges his cock deep inside me, and I cry out as sharp pleasure courses through my body.

“You are so perfect,” Kyle murmurs into my ear with his deep gravelly voice that makes me tremble involuntarily.

He grips the leg I’ve lifted in the air, keeping it in place. I hang on to the side of the bed as he pumps in and out. Pleasure builds up in me rapidly as he carries me higher and higher until it reaches unbearable proportions.

“Kyle.” I whimper his name, unable to form any other word.

“My Grace,” he growls.

I reach the edge and cry out as my body explodes. I pant as if I’m out of breath and shake from the aftermath of the orgasm. Kyle keeps pumping, and then his breathing changes, and I know that he’s about to come. I drop my leg from his hold and squeeze my thighs together. Kyle comes with a loud roar. I’m sure everyone in the building heard him. I try to stifle a giggle.

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